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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9499-0.txt b/9499-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04a51fa --- /dev/null +++ b/9499-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9086 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dream, by Émile Zola + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Dream + +Author: Émile Zola + +Translator: Eliza E. Chase + +Release Date: October 6, 2003 [eBook #9499] +[Most recently updated: November 3, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Dagny, John Bickers, Roger Proctor and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM *** + + + + +THE DREAM + +(LE RÊVE) + +By Émile Zola + + +Translated by Eliza E. Chase + + + +CHAPTER I + +During the severe winter of 1860 the river Oise was frozen over and the +plains of Lower Picardy were covered with deep snow. On Christmas Day, +especially, a heavy squall from the north-east had almost buried the +little city of Beaumont. The snow, which began to fall early in the +morning, increased towards evening and accumulated during the night; +in the upper town, in the Rue des Orfèvres, at the end of which, as if +enclosed therein, is the northern front of the cathedral transept, +this was blown with great force by the wind against the portal of Saint +Agnes, the old Romanesque portal, where traces of Early Gothic could be +seen, contrasting its florid ornamentation with the bare simplicity of +the transept gable. + +The inhabitants still slept, wearied by the festive rejoicings of the +previous day. The town-clock struck six. In the darkness, which was +slightly lightened by the slow, persistent fall of flakes, a vague +living form alone was visible: that of a little girl, nine years of age, +who, having taken refuge under the archway of the portal, had passed the +night there, shivering, and sheltering herself as well as possible. She +wore a thin woollen dress, ragged from long use, her head was covered +with a torn silk handkerchief, and on her bare feet were heavy shoes +much too large for her. Without doubt she had only gone there after +having well wandered through the town, for she had fallen down from +sheer exhaustion. For her it was the end of the world; there was no +longer anything to interest her. It was the last surrender; the hunger +that gnaws, the cold which kills; and in her weakness, stifled by the +heavy weight at her heart, she ceased to struggle, and nothing was +left to her but the instinctive movement of preservation, the desire of +changing place, of sinking still deeper into these old stones, whenever +a sudden gust made the snow whirl about her. + +Hour after hour passed. For a long time, between the divisions of this +double door, she leaned her back against the abutting pier, on whose +column was a statue of Saint Agnes, the martyr of but thirteen years of +age, a little girl like herself, who carried a branch of palm, and at +whose feet was a lamb. And in the tympanum, above the lintel, the whole +legend of the Virgin Child betrothed to Jesus could be seen in high +relief, set forth with a charming simplicity of faith. Her hair, which +grew long and covered her like a garment when the Governor, whose son +she had refused to marry, gave her up to the soldiers; the flames of +the funeral pile, destined to destroy her, turning aside and burning her +executioners as soon as they lighted the wood; the miracles performed +by her relics; Constance, daughter of the Emperor, cured of leprosy; and +the quaint story of one of her painted images, which, when the priest +Paulinus offered it a very valuable emerald ring, held out its finger, +then withdrew it, keeping the ring, which can be seen at this present +day. At the top of the tympanum, in a halo of glory, Agnes is at last +received into heaven, where her betrothed, Jesus, marries her, so young +and so little, giving her the kiss of eternal happiness. + +But when the wind rushed through the street, the snow was blown in the +child’s face, and the threshold was almost barred by the white masses; +then she moved away to the side, against the virgins placed above the +base of the arch. These are the companions of Agnes, the saints who +served as her escort: three at her right--Dorothea, who was fed in +prison by miraculous bread; Barbe, who lived in a tower; and Genevieve, +whose heroism saved Paris: and three at her left--Agatha, whose breast +was torn; Christina, who was put to torture by her father; and Cecilia, +beloved by the angels. Above these were statues and statues; three +close ranks mounting with the curves of the arches, decorating them with +chaste triumphant figures, who, after the suffering and martyrdom +of their earthly life, were welcomed by a host of winged cherubim, +transported with ecstasy into the Celestial Kingdom. + +There had been no shelter for the little waif for a long time, when at +last the clock struck eight and daylight came. The snow, had she not +trampled it down, would have come up to her shoulders. The old door +behind her was covered with it, as if hung with ermine, and it looked +as white as an altar, beneath the grey front of the church, so bare and +smooth that not even a single flake had clung to it. The great saints, +those of the sloping surface especially, were clothed in it, and were +glistening in purity from their feet to their white beards. Still +higher, in the scenes of the tympanum, the outlines of the little saints +of the arches were designed most clearly on a dark background, and this +magic sect continued until the final rapture at the marriage of Agnes, +which the archangels appeared to be celebrating under a shower of white +roses. Standing upon her pillar, with her white branch of palm and her +white lamp, the Virgin Child had such purity in the lines of her body of +immaculate snow, that the motionless stiffness of cold seemed to congeal +around her the mystic transports of victorious youth. And at her feet +the other child, so miserable, white with snow--she also grew so stiff +and pale that it seemed as if she were turning to stone, and could +scarcely be distinguished from the great images above her. + +At last, in one of the long line of houses in which all seemed to be +sleeping, the noise from the drawing up of a blind made her raise her +eyes. It was at her right hand, in the second story of a house at the +side of the Cathedral. A very handsome woman, a brunette about forty +years of age, with a placid expression of serenity, was just looking out +from there, and in spite of the terrible frost she kept her uncovered +arm in the air for a moment, having seen the child move. Her calm face +grew sad with pity and astonishment. Then, shivering, she hastily closed +the window. She carried with her the rapid vision of a fair little +creature with violet-coloured eyes under a head-covering of an old silk +handkerchief. The face was oval, the neck long and slender as a lily, +and the shoulders drooping; but she was blue from cold, her little hands +and feet were half dead, and the only thing about her that still showed +life was the slight vapour of her breath. + +The child remained with her eyes upturned, looking at the house +mechanically. It was a narrow one, two stories in height, very old, and +evidently built towards the end of the fifteenth century. It was almost +sealed to the side of the Cathedral, between two buttresses, like a wart +which had pushed itself between the two toes of a Colossus. And thus +supported on each side, it was admirably preserved, with its stone +basement, its second story in wooden panels, ornamented with bricks, +its roof, of which the framework advanced at least three feet beyond the +gable, its turret for the projecting stairway at the left corner, where +could still be seen in the little window the leaden setting of long ago. +At times repairs had been made on account of its age. The tile-roofing +dated from the reign of Louis XIV., for one easily recognised the work +of that epoch; a dormer window pierced in the side of the turret, little +wooden frames replacing everywhere those of the primitive panes; the +three united openings of the second story had been reduced to two, that +of the middle being closed up with bricks, thus giving to the front the +symmetry of the other buildings on the street of a more recent date. + +In the basement the changes were equally visible, an oaken door with +mouldings having taken the place of the old one with iron trimmings that +was under the stairway; and the great central arcade, of which the lower +part, the sides, and the point had been plastered over, so as to leave +only one rectangular opening, was now a species of large window, instead +of the triple-pointed one which formerly came out on to the street. + +Without thinking, the child still looked at this venerable dwelling of a +master-builder, so well preserved, and as she read upon a little yellow +plate nailed at the left of the door these words, “Hubert, chasuble +maker,” printed in black letters, she was again attracted by the sound +of the opening of a shutter. This time it was the blind of the square +window of the ground floor. A man in his turn looked out; his face was +full, his nose aquiline, his forehead projecting, and his thick short +hair already white, although he was scarcely yet five-and-forty. He, +too, forgot the air for a moment as he examined her with a sad wrinkle +on his great tender mouth. Then she saw him, as he remained standing +behind the little greenish-looking panes. He turned, beckoned to +someone, and his wife reappeared. How handsome she was! They both stood +side by side, looking at her earnestly and sadly. + +For four hundred years, the line of Huberts, embroiderers from father +to son, had lived in this house. A noted maker of chasubles had built it +under Louis XI., another had repaired it under Louis XIV., and the Hubert +who now occupied it still embroidered church vestments, as his ancestors +had always done. At twenty years of age he had fallen in love with a +young girl of sixteen, Hubertine, and so deep was their affection for +each other, that when her mother, widow of a magistrate, refused to give +her consent to their union, they ran away together and were married. She +was remarkably beautiful, and that was their whole romance, their joy, +and their misfortune. + +When, a year later, she went to the deathbed of her mother, the latter +disinherited her and gave her her curse. So affected was she by the +terrible scene, that her infant, born soon after, died, and since then +it seemed as if, even in her coffin in the cemetery, the willful +woman had never pardoned her daughter, for it was, alas! a childless +household. After twenty-four years they still mourned the little one +they had lost. + +Disturbed by their looks, the stranger tried to hide herself behind the +pillar of Saint Agnes. She was also annoyed by the movement which now +commenced in the street, as the shops were being opened and people began +to go out. The Rue des Orfèvres, which terminates at the side front of +the church, would be almost impassable, blocked in as it is on one side +by the house of the Huberts, if the Rue du Soleil, a narrow lane, did +not relieve it on the other side by running the whole length of the +Cathedral to the great front on the Place du Cloître. At this hour there +were few passers, excepting one or two persons who were on their way to +early service, and they looked with surprise at the poor little girl, +whom they did not recognise as ever having seen at Beaumont. The slow, +persistent fall of snow continued. The cold seemed to increase with the +wan daylight, and in the dull thickness of the great white shroud which +covered the town one heard, as if from a distance, the sound of voices. +But timid, ashamed of her abandonment, as if it were a fault, the +child drew still farther back, when suddenly she recognised before her +Hubertine, who, having no servant, had gone out to buy bread. + +“What are you doing there, little one? Who are you?” + +She did not answer, but hid her face. Then she was no longer conscious +of suffering; her whole being seemed to have faded away, as if her +heart, turned to ice, had stopped beating. When the good lady turned +away with a pitying look, she sank down upon her knees completely +exhausted, and slipped listlessly into the snow, whose flakes quickly +covered her. + +And the woman, as she returned with her fresh rolls, seeing that she had +fallen, again approached her. + +“Look up, my child! You cannot remain here on this doorstep.” + +Then Hubert, who had also come out, and was standing near the threshold, +took the bread from his wife, and said: + +“Take her up and bring her into the house.” + +Hubertine did not reply, but, stooping, lifted her in her strong arms. +And the child shrank back no longer, but was carried as if inanimate; +her teeth closely set, her eyes shut, chilled through and through, and +with the lightness of a little bird that had just fallen from its nest. + +They went in. Hubert shut the door, while Hubertine, bearing her burden, +passed through the front room, which served as a parlour, and where +some embroidered bands were spread out for show before the great +square window. Then she went into the kitchen, the old servants’ hall, +preserved almost intact, with its heavy beams, its flagstone floor +mended in a dozen places, and its great fireplace with its stone +mantelpiece. On shelves were the utensils, the pots, kettles, and +saucepans, that dated back one or two centuries; and the dishes were +of old stone, or earthenware, and of pewter. But on the middle of the +hearth was a modern cooking-stove, a large cast-iron one, whose copper +trimmings were wondrously bright. It was red from heat, and the +water was bubbling away in its boiler. A large porringer, filled with +coffee-and-milk, was on one corner of it. + +“Oh! how much more comfortable it is here than outside,” said Hubert, as +he put the bread down on a heavy table of the style of Louis XIII., which +was in the centre of the room. “Now, seat this poor little creature near +the stove that she may be thawed out!” + +Hubertine had already placed the child close to the fire, and they both +looked at her as she slowly regained consciousness. As the snow that +covered her clothes melted it fell in heavy drops. Through the holes of +her great shoes they could see her little bruised feet, whilst the thin +woollen dress designed the rigidity of her limbs and her poor body, worn +by misery and pain. She had a long attack of nervous trembling, and then +opened her frightened eyes with the start of an animal which suddenly +awakes from sleep to find itself caught in a snare. Her face seemed to +sink away under the silken rag which was tied under her chin. Her +right arm appeared to be helpless, for she pressed it so closely to her +breast. + +“Do not be alarmed, for we will not hurt you. Where did you come from? +Who are you?” + +But the more she was spoken to the more frightened she became, turning +her head as if someone were behind her who would beat her. She examined +the kitchen furtively, the flaggings, the beams, and the shining +utensils; then her glance passed through the irregular windows which +were left in the ancient opening, and she saw the garden clear to the +trees by the Bishop’s house, whose white shadows towered above the wall +at the end, while at the left, as if astonished at finding itself there, +stretched along the whole length of the alley the Cathedral, with its +Romanesque windows in the chapels of its apses. And again, from the +heat of the stove which began to penetrate her, she had a long attack +of shivering, after which she turned her eyes to the floor and remained +quiet. + +“Do you belong to Beaumont? Who is your father?” + +She was so entirely silent that Hubert thought her throat must be too +dry to allow her to speak. + +Instead of questioning her he said: “We would do much better to give her +a cup of coffee as hot as she can drink it.” + +That was so reasonable that Hubertine immediately handed her the cup +she herself held. Whilst she cut two large slices of bread and buttered +them, the child, still mistrustful, continued to shrink back; but her +hunger was too great, and soon she ate and drank ravenously. That there +need not be a restraint upon her, the husband and wife were silent, and +were touched to tears on seeing her little hand tremble to such a degree +that at times it was difficult for her to reach her mouth. She made use +only of her left hand, for her right arm seemed to be fastened to her +chest. When she had finished, she almost broke the cup, which she caught +again by an awkward movement of her elbow. + +“Have you hurt your arm badly?” Hubertine asked. “Do not be afraid, my +dear, but show it to me.” + +But as she was about to touch it the child rose up hastily, trying +to prevent her, and as in the struggle she moved her arm, a little +pasteboard-covered book, which she had hidden under her dress, slipped +through a large tear in her waist. She tried to take it, and when she +saw her unknown hosts open and begin to read it, she clenched her fist +in anger. + +It was an official certificate, given by the Administration des Enfants +Assistes in the Department of the Seine. On the first page, under a +medallion containing a likeness of Saint Vincent de Paul, were the +printed prescribed forms. For the family name, a simple black line +filled the allotted space. Then for the Christian names were those of +Angelique Marie; for the dates, born January 22, 1851, admitted the 23rd +of the same month under the registered number of 1,634. So there was +neither father nor mother; there were no papers; not even a statement of +where she was born; nothing but this little book of official coldness, +with its cover of pale red pasteboard. No relative in the world! and +even her abandonment numbered and classed! + +“Oh! then she is a foundling!” exclaimed Hubertine. + +In a paroxysm of rage the child replied: “I am much better than all +the others--yes--yes! I am better, better, better. I have never taken +anything that did not belong to me, and yet they stole all I had. Give +me back, now, that which you also have stolen from me!” + +Such powerless passion, such pride to be above the others in goodness, +so shook the body of the little girl, that the Huberts were startled. +They no longer recognised the blonde creature, with violet eyes and +graceful figure. Now her eyes were black, her face dark, and her neck +seemed swollen by a rush of blood to it. Since she had become warm, she +raised her head and hissed like a serpent that had been picked up on the +snow. + +“Are you then really so naughty?” asked Hubert gently. “If we wish to +know all about you, it is because we wish to help you.” + +And looking over the shoulders of his wife he read as the latter turned +the leaves of the little book. On the second page was the name of the +nurse. “The child, Angelique Marie, had been given, on January 25, 1851, +to the nurse, Françoise, sister of Mr. Hamelin, a farmer by profession, +living in the parish of Soulanges, an arrondissement of Nevers. The +aforesaid nurse had received on her departure the pay for the first +month of her care, in addition to her clothing.” Then there was a +certificate of her baptism, signed by the chaplain of the Asylum for +Abandoned Children; also that of the physician on the arrival and on +the departure of the infant. The monthly accounts, paid in quarterly +installments, filled farther on the columns of four pages, and each time +there was the illegible signature of the receiver or collector. + +“What! Nevers!” asked Hubertine. “You were brought up near Nevers?” + +Angelique, red with anger that she could not prevent them from reading, +had fallen into a sullen silence. But at last she opened her mouth to +speak of her nurse. + +“Ah! you may be sure that Maman Nini would have beaten you. She always +took my part against others, she did, although sometimes she struck me +herself. Ah! it is true I was not so unhappy over there, with the cattle +and all!” + +Her voice choked her and she continued, in broken, incoherent sentences, +to speak of the meadow where she drove the great red cow, of the broad +road where she played, of the cakes they cooked, and of a pet house-dog +that had once bitten her. + +Hubert interrupted her as he read aloud: “In case of illness, or of bad +treatment, the superintendent is authorised to change the nurses of the +children.” Below it was written that the child Angelique Marie had been +given on June 20 to the care of Theresa, wife of Louis Franchomme, both +of them makers of artificial flowers in Paris. + +“Ah! I understand,” said Hubertine. “You were ill, and so they took you +back to Paris.” + +But no, that was not the case, and the Huberts did not know the whole +history until they had drawn it, little by little from Angelique. Louis +Franchomme, who was a cousin of Maman Nini, went to pass a month in his +native village when recovering from a fever. It was then that his wife, +Theresa, became very fond of the child, and obtained permission to take +her to Paris, where she could be taught the trade of making flowers. +Three months later her husband died, and she herself, being delicate in +health, was obliged to leave the city and to go to her brother’s, the +tanner Rabier, who was settled at Beaumont. She, alas! died in the early +days of December, and confided to her sister-in-law the little girl, +who since that time had been injured, beaten, and, in short, suffered +martyrdom. + +“The Rabiers?” said Hubert. “The Rabiers? Yes, yes! They are tanners on +the banks of the Ligneul, in the lower town. The husband is lame, and +the wife is a noted scold.” + +“They treated me as if I came from the gutter,” continued Angelique, +revolted and enraged in her mortified pride. “They said the river was +the best place for me. After she had beaten me nearly to death, the +woman would put something on the floor for me to eat, as if I were a +cat, and many a time I went to bed suffering from hunger. Oh! I could +have killed myself, at last!” She made a gesture of furious despair. + +“Yesterday, Christmas morning, they had been drinking, and, to amuse +themselves, they threatened to put out my eyes. Then, after a while, +they began to fight with each other, and dealt such heavy blows that I +thought they were dead, as they both fell on the floor of their room. +For a long time I had determined to run away. But I was anxious to have +my book. Maman Nini had often said, in showing it to me: ‘Look, this is +all that you own, and if you do not keep this you will not even have a +name.’ And I know that since the death of Maman Theresa they had hid +it in one of the bureau drawers. So stepping over them as quietly as +possible, while they were lying on the floor, I got the book, hid it +under my dress-waist, pressing it against me with my arm. It seemed so +large that I fancied everyone must see it, and that it would be taken +from me. Oh! I ran, and ran, and ran, and when night came it was so +dark! Oh! how cold I was under the poor shelter of that great door! Oh +dear! I was so cold, it seemed as if I were dead. But never mind now, +for I did not once let go of my book, and here it is.” And with a sudden +movement, as the Huberts closed it to give it back to her, she snatched +it from them. Then, sitting down, she put her head on the table, sobbing +deeply as she laid her cheek on the light red cover. Her pride seemed +conquered by an intense humility. Her whole being appeared to +be softened by the sight of these few leaves with their rumpled +corners--her solitary possession, her one treasure, and the only tie +which connected her with the life of this world. She could not relieve +her heart of her great despair; her tears flowed continually, and under +this complete surrender of herself she regained her delicate looks and +became again a pretty child. Her slightly oval face was pure in its +outlines, her violet eyes were made a little paler from emotion, and the +curve of her neck and shoulders made her resemble a little virgin on a +church window. At length she seized the hand of Hubertine, pressed it to +her lips most caressingly, and kissed it passionately. + +The Huberts were deeply touched, and could scarcely speak. They +stammered: “Dear, dear child!” + +She was not, then, in reality bad! Perhaps with affectionate care she +could be corrected of this violence of temper which had so alarmed them. + +In a tone of entreaty the poor child exclaimed: “Do not send me back to +those dreadful people! Oh, do not send me back again!” + +The husband and wife looked at each other for a few moments. In fact, +since the autumn they had planned taking as an apprentice some young +girl who would live with them, and thus bring a little brightness into +their house, which seemed so dull without children. And their decision +was soon made. + +“Would you like it, my dear?” Hubert asked. + +Hubertine replied quietly, in her calm voice: “I would indeed.” + +Immediately they occupied themselves with the necessary formalities. +The husband went to the Justice of Peace of the northern district of +Beaumont, who was cousin to his wife, the only relative with whom she +had kept up an acquaintance, and told him all the facts of the case. He +took charge of it, wrote to the Hospice of Abandoned Children--where, +thanks to the registered number, Angelique was easily recognised--and +obtained permission for her to remain as apprentice with the Huberts, +who were well known for their honourable position. + +The Sub-Inspector of the Hospice, on coming to verify the little book, +signed the new contract as witness for Hubert, by which the latter +promised to treat the child kindly, to keep her tidy, to send her to +school and to church, and to give her a good bed to herself. On the +other side, the Administration agreed to pay him all indemnities, and +to give the child certain stipulated articles of clothing, as was their +custom. + +In ten days all was arranged. Angelique slept upstairs in a room under +the roof, by the side of the garret, and the windows of which overlooked +the garden. She had already taken her first lessons in embroidery. The +first Sunday morning after she was in her new home, before going to +mass, Hubertine opened before her the old chest in the working-room, +where she kept the fine gold thread. She held up the little book, then, +placing it in that back part of one of the drawers, said: “Look! I have +put it here. I will not hide it, but leave it where you can take it if +you ever wish to do so. It is best that you should see it, and remember +where it is.” + +On entering the church that day, Angelique found herself again under the +doorway of Saint Agnes. During the week there had been a partial thaw, +then the cold weather had returned to so intense a degree that the +snow which had half melted on the statues had congealed itself in large +bunches or in icicles. Now, the figures seemed dressed in transparent +robes of ice, with lace trimmings like spun glass. Dorothea was holding +a torch, the liquid droppings of which fell upon her hands. Cecilia +wore a silver crown, in which glistened the most brilliant of pearls. +Agatha’s nude chest was protected by a crystal armour. And the scenes +in the tympanum, the little virgins in the arches, looked as if they had +been there for centuries, behind the glass and jewels of the shrine of +a saint. Agnes herself let trail behind her her court mantle, threaded +with light and embroidered with stars. Her lamb had a fleece of +diamonds, and her palm-branch had become the colour of heaven. The whole +door was resplendent in the purity of intense cold. + +Angelique recollected the night she had passed there under the +protection of these saints. She raised her head and smiled upon them. + + + +CHAPTER II + +Beaumont is composed of two villages, completely separated and quite +distinct one from the other--Beaumont-l’Église, on the hill with its old +Cathedral of the twelfth century, its Bishop’s Palace which dates only +from the seventeenth century, its inhabitants, scarcely one thousand in +number, who are crowded together in an almost stifling way in its narrow +streets; and Beaumont-la-Ville, at the foot of the hill, on the banks of +the Ligneul, an ancient suburb, which the success of its manufactories +of lace and fine cambric has enriched and enlarged to such an extent +that it has a population of nearly ten thousand persons, several public +squares, and an elegant sub-prefecture built in the modern style. These +two divisions, the northern district and the southern district, have +thus no longer anything in common except in an administrative way. +Although scarcely thirty leagues from Paris, where one can go by rail +in two hours, Beaumont-l’Église seems to be still immured in its old +ramparts, of which, however, only three gates remain. A stationary, +peculiar class of people lead there a life similar to that which their +ancestors had led from father to son during the past five hundred years. + +The Cathedral explains everything, has given birth to and preserved +everything. It is the mother, the queen, as it rises in all its majesty +in the centre of, and above, the little collection of low houses, which, +like shivering birds, are sheltered under her wings of stone. One lives +there simply for it, and only by it. There is no movement of business +activity, and the little tradesmen only sell the necessities of life, +such as are absolutely required to feed, to clothe, and to maintain +the church and its clergy; and if occasionally one meets some private +individuals, they are merely the last representatives of a scattered +crowd of worshippers. The church dominates all; each street is one of +its veins; the town has no other breath than its own. On that account, +this spirit of another age, this religious torpor from the past, makes +the cloistered city which surrounds it redolent with a savoury perfume +of peace and of faith. + +And in all this mystic place, the house of the Huberts, where Angelique +was to live in the future, was the one nearest to the Cathedral, +and which clung to it as if in reality it were a part thereof. The +permission to build there, between two of the great buttresses, must +have been given by some vicar long ago, who was desirous of attaching +to himself the ancestors of this line of embroiderers, as master +chasuble-makers and furnishers for the Cathedral clergy. On the southern +side, the narrow garden was barred by the colossal building; first, +the circumference of the side chapels, whose windows overlooked the +flower-beds, and then the slender, long nave, that the flying buttresses +supported, and afterwards the high roof covered with the sheet lead. + +The sun never penetrated to the lower part of this garden, where ivy and +box alone grew luxuriantly; yet the eternal shadow there was very soft +and pleasant as it fell from the gigantic brow of the apse--a religious +shadow, sepulchral and pure, which had a good odour about it. In the +greenish half-light of its calm freshness, the two towers let fall +only the sound of their chimes. But the entire house kept the quivering +therefrom, sealed as it was to these old stones, melted into them and +supported by them. It trembled at the least of the ceremonies; at the +High Mass, the rumbling of the organ, the voices of the choristers, even +the oppressed sighs of the worshippers, murmured through each one of +its rooms, lulled it as if with a holy breath from the Invisible, and +at times through the half-cool walls seemed to come the vapours from the +burning incense. + +For five years Angelique lived and grew there, as if in a cloister, far +away from the world. She only went out to attend the seven-o’clock Mass +on Sunday mornings, as Hubertine had obtained permission for her to +study at home, fearing that, if sent to school, she might not always +have the best of associates. This old dwelling, so shut in, with its +garden of a dead quiet, was her world. She occupied as her chamber a +little whitewashed room under the roof; she went down in the morning to +her breakfast in the kitchen, she went up again to the working-room in +the second story to her embroidery. And these places, with the turning +stone stairway of the turret, were the only corners in which she passed +her time; for she never went into the Huberts’ apartments, and only +crossed the parlour on the first floor, and they were the two rooms +which had been rejuvenated and modernised. In the parlour, the beams +were plastered over, and the ceiling had been decorated with a palm-leaf +cornice, accompanied by a rose centre; the wall-paper dated from the +First Empire, as well as the white marble chimney-piece and the mahogany +furniture, which consisted of a sofa and four armchairs covered with +Utrecht velvet, a centre table, and a cabinet. + +On the rare occasions when she went there, to add to the articles +exposed for sale some new bands of embroidery, if she cast her eyes +without, she saw through the window the same unchanging vista, the +narrow street ending at the portal of Saint Agnes; a parishioner pushing +open the little lower door, which shut itself without any noise, and the +shops of the plate-worker and wax-candle-maker opposite, which appeared +to be always empty, but where was a display of holy sacramental vessels, +and long lines of great church tapers. And the cloistral calm of all +Beaumont-l’Église--of the Rue Magloire, back of the Bishop’s Palace, +of the Grande Rue, where the Rue de Orfèvres began, and of the Place du +Cloître, where rose up the two towers, was felt in the drowsy air, and +seemed to fall gently with the pale daylight on the deserted pavement. + +Hubertine had taken upon herself the charge of the education of +Angelique. Moreover, she was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and +maintained that a woman knew enough if she could read well, write +correctly, and had studied thoroughly the first four rules of +arithmetic. But even for this limited instruction she had constantly to +contend with an unwillingness on the part of her pupil, who, instead of +giving her attention to her books, preferred looking out of the windows, +although the recreation was very limited, as she could see nothing but +the garden from them. In reality, Angelique cared only for reading; +notwithstanding in her dictations, chosen from some classic writer, she +never succeeded in spelling a page correctly, yet her handwriting was +exceedingly pretty, graceful, and bold, one of those irregular styles +which were quite the fashion long ago. As for other studies, of +geography and history and cyphering, she was almost completely ignorant +of them. What good would knowledge ever do her? It was really useless, +she thought. Later on, when it was time for her to be Confirmed, she +learned her Catechism word for word, and with so fervent an ardour that +she astonished everyone by the exactitude of her memory. + +Notwithstanding their gentleness, during the first year the Huberts +were often discouraged. Angelique, who promised to be skilful in +embroidering, disconcerted them by sudden changes to inexplicable +idleness after days of praiseworthy application. She was capricious, +seemed to lose her strength, became greedy, would steal sugar to eat +when alone, and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked wearied +under their reddened lids. If reproved, she would reply with a flood of +injurious words. Some days, when they wished to try to subdue her, her +foolish pride at being interfered with would throw her into such serious +attacks that she would strike her feet and her hands together, and +seemed ready to tear her clothing, or to bite anyone who approached +her. At such moments they drew away from her, for she was like a little +monster ruled by the evil sprit within her. + +Who could she be? Where did she come from? Almost always these abandoned +children are the offspring of vice. Twice they had resolved to give +her up and send her back to the Asylum, so discouraged were they and so +deeply did they regret having taken her. But each time these frightful +scenes, which almost made the house tremble, ended in the same deluge of +tears, and the same excited expressions and acts of penitence, when the +child would throw herself on the floor, begging them so earnestly to +punish her that they were obliged to forgive her. + +Little by little, Hubertine gained great authority over her. She was +peculiarly adapted for such a task, with her kind heart, her gentle +firmness, her common-sense and her uniform temper. She taught her the +duty of obedience and the sin of pride and of passion. To obey was to +live. We must obey God, our parents, and our superiors. There was a +whole hierarchy of respect, outside of which existence was unrestrained +and disorderly. So, after each fit of passion, that she might learn +humility, some menial labour was imposed upon her as a penance, such as +washing the cooking-utensils, or wiping up the kitchen floor; and, until +it was finished, she would remain stooping over her work, enraged at +first, but conquered at last. + +With the little girl excess seemed to be a marked characteristic in +everything, even in her caresses. Many times Hubertine had seen her +kissing her hands with vehemence. She would often be in a fever of +ecstasy before the little pictures of saints and of the Child +Jesus, which she had collected; and one evening she was found in a +half-fainting state, with her head upon the table, and her lips pressed +to those of the images. When Hubertine confiscated them there was +a terrible scene of tears and cries, as if she herself were being +tortured. After that she was held very strictly, was made to obey, and +her freaks were at once checked by keeping her busy at her work; as +soon as her cheeks grew very red, her eyes dark, and she had nervous +tremblings, everything was immediately made quiet about her. + +Moreover, Hubertine had found an unexpected aid in the book given by the +Society for the Protection of Abandoned Children. Every three months, +when the collector signed it, Angelique was very low-spirited for the +rest of the day. If by chance she saw it when she went to the drawer for +a ball of gold thread, her heart seemed pierced with agony. And one day, +when in a fit of uncontrollable fury, which nothing had been able +to conquer, she turned over the contents of the drawer, she suddenly +appeared as if thunderstruck before the red-covered book. Her sobs +stifled her. She threw herself at the feet of the Huberts in great +humility, stammering that they had made a mistake in giving her shelter, +and that she was not worthy of all their kindness. From that time her +anger was frequently restrained by the sight or the mention of the book. + +In this way Angelique lived until she was twelve years of age and +ready to be Confirmed. The calm life of the household, the little +old-fashioned building sleeping under the shadow of the Cathedral, +perfumed with incense, and penetrated with religious music, favoured the +slow amelioration of this untutored nature, this wild flower, taken from +no one knew where, and transplanted in the mystic soil of the narrow +garden. Added to this was the regularity of her daily work and the utter +ignorance of what was going on in the world, without even an echo from a +sleepy quarter penetrating therein. + +But, above all, the gentlest influence came from the great love of the +Huberts for each other, which seemed to be enlarged by some unknown, +incurable remorse. He passed the days in endeavouring to make his +wife forget the injury he had done her in marrying her in spite of the +opposition of her mother. He had realised at the death of their child +that she half accused him of this punishment, and he wished to be +forgiven. She had done so years ago, and now she idolised him. Sometimes +he was not sure of it, and this doubt saddened his life. He wished they +might have had another infant, and so feel assured that the obstinate +mother had been softened after death, and had withdrawn her malediction. +That, in fact, was their united desire--a child of pardon; and he +worshipped his wife with a tender love, ardent and pure as that of a +betrothed. If before the apprentice he did not even kiss her hand, +he never entered their chamber, even after twenty years of marriage, +without an emotion of gratitude for all the happiness that had +been given him. This was their true home, this room with its tinted +paintings, its blue wall-paper, its pretty hangings, and its walnut +furniture. Never was an angry word uttered therein, and, as if from a +sanctuary, a sentiment of tenderness went out from its occupants, and +filled the house. It was thus for Angelique an atmosphere of affection +and love, in which she grew and thrived. + +An unexpected event finished the work of forming her character. As she +was rummaging one morning in a corner of the working-room, she found +on a shelf, among implements of embroidery which were no longer used, +a very old copy of the “Golden Legend,” by Jacques de Voragine. This +French translation, dating from 1549, must have been bought in the +long ago by some master-workman in church vestments, on account of the +pictures, full of useful information upon the Saints. It was a great +while since Angelique had given any attention to the little old carved +images, showing such childlike faith, which had once delighted her. But +now, as soon as she was allowed to go out and play in the garden, she +took the book with her. It had been rebound in yellow calf, and was in +a good condition. She slowly turned over some of the leaves, then looked +at the title-page, in red and black, with the address of the bookseller: +“à Paris, en la rue Neufre Nostre-Dame, à l’enseigne Saint Jehan +Baptiste;” and decorated with medallions of the four Evangelists, framed +at the bottom by the Adoration of the Three Magi, and at the top by the +Triumph of Jesus Christ, and His resurrection. And then picture after +picture followed; there were ornamented letters, large and small, +engravings in the text and at the heading of the chapters; “The +Annunciation,” an immense angel inundating with rays of light a slight, +delicate-looking Mary; “The Massacre of the Innocents,” where a cruel +Herod was seen surrounded by dead bodies of dear little children; “The +Nativity,” where Saint Joseph is holding a candle, the light of which +falls upon the face of the Infant Jesus, Who sleeps in His mother’s +arms; Saint John the Almoner, giving to the poor; Saint Matthias, +breaking an idol; Saint Nicholas as a bishop, having at his right hand +a little bucket filled with babies. And then, a little farther on, came +the female saints: Agnes, with her neck pierced by a sword; Christina, +torn by pincers; Genevieve, followed by her lambs; Juliana, being +whipped; Anastasia, burnt; Maria the Egyptian, repenting in the desert, +Mary of Magdalene, carrying the vase of precious ointment; and others +and still others followed. There was an increasing terror and a piety +in each one of them, making it a history which weighs upon the heart and +fills the eyes with tears. + +But, little by little, Angelique was curious to know exactly what these +engravings represented. The two columns of closely-printed text, the +impression of which remained very black upon the papers yellowed by +time, frightened her by the strange, almost barbaric look of the +Gothic letters. Still, she accustomed herself to it, deciphered these +characters, learned the abbreviations and the contractions, and soon +knew how to explain the turning of the phrases and the old-fashioned +words. At last she could read it easily, and was as enchanted as if she +were penetrating a mystery, and she triumphed over each new difficulty +that she conquered. + +Under these laborious shades a whole world of light revealed itself. She +entered, as it were, into a celestial splendour. For now the few classic +books they owned, so cold and dry, existed no longer. The Legend alone +interested her. She bent over it, with her forehead resting on her +hands, studying it so intently, that she no longer lived in the real +life, but, unconscious of time, she seemed to see, mounting from the +depths of the unknown, the broad expansion of a dream. + +How wonderful it all was! These saints and virgins! They are born +predestined; solemn voices announce their coming, and their mothers have +marvellous dreams about them. All are beautiful, strong, and victorious. +Great lights surround them, and their countenances are resplendent. +Dominic has a star on his forehead. They read the minds of men and +repeat their thoughts aloud. They have the gift of prophecy, and their +predictions are always realised. Their number is infinite. Among them +are bishops and monks, virgins and fallen women, beggars and nobles of a +royal race, unclothed hermits who live on roots, and old men who inhabit +caverns with goats. Their history is always the same. They grow up for +Christ, believe fervently in Him, refuse to sacrifice to false gods, +are tortured, and die filled with glory. Emperors were at last weary of +persecuting them. Andrew, after being attached to the cross, preached +during two days to twenty thousand persons. Conversions were made +in masses, forty thousand men being baptised at one time. When the +multitudes were not converted by the miracles, they fled terrified. The +saints were accused of sorcery; enigmas were proposed to them, which +they solved at once; they were obliged to dispute questions with learned +men, who remained speechless before them. As soon as they entered the +temples of sacrifice the idols were overthrown with a breath, and were +broken to pieces. A virgin tied her sash around the neck of a statue of +Venus, which at once fell in powder. The earth trembled. The Temple of +Diana was struck by lightning and destroyed; and the people revolting, +civil wars ensued. Then often the executioners asked to be baptised; +kings knelt at the feet of saints in rags who had devoted themselves to +poverty. Sabina flees from the paternal roof. Paula abandons her five +children. Mortifications of the flesh and fasts purify, not oil or +water. Germanus covers his food with ashes. Bernard cares not to eat, +but delights only in the taste of fresh water. Agatha keeps for three +years a pebble in her mouth. Augustinus is in despair for the sin he has +committed in turning to look after a dog who was running. Prosperity and +health are despised, and joy begins with privations which kill the body. +And it is thus that, subduing all things, they live at last in gardens +where the flowers are stars, and where the leaves of the trees sing. +They exterminate dragons, they raise and appease tempests, they seem +in their ecstatic visions to be borne above the earth. Their wants are +provided for while living, and after their death friends are advised +by dreams to go and bury them. Extraordinary things happen to them, and +adventures far more marvellous than those in a work of fiction. And +when their tombs are opened after hundreds of years, sweet odours escape +therefrom. + +Then, opposite the saints, behold the evil spirits! + +“They often fly about us like insects, and fill the air without number. +The air is also full of demons, as the rays of the sun are full of +atoms. It is even like powder.” And the eternal contest begins. The +saints are always victorious, and yet they are constantly obliged to +renew the battle. The more the demons are driven away, the more they +return. There were counted six thousand six hundred and sixty-six in the +body of a woman whom Fortunatus delivered. They moved, they talked and +cried, by the voice of the person possessed, whose body they shook as if +by a tempest. At each corner of the highways an afflicted one is seen, +and the first saint who passes contends with the evil spirits. They +enter by the eyes, the ears, and by the mouth, and, after days of +fearful struggling, they go out with loud groanings. Basilus, to save a +young man, contends personally with the Evil One. Macarius was attacked +when in a cemetery, and passed a whole night in defending himself. The +angels, even at deathbeds, in order to secure the soul of the dying were +obliged to beat the demons. At other times the contests are only of the +intellect and the mind, but are equally remarkable. Satan, who prowls +about, assumes many forms, sometimes disguising himself as a woman, +and again, even as a saint. But, once overthrown, he appears in all his +ugliness: “a black cat, larger than a dog, his huge eyes emitting flame, +his tongue long, large, and bloody, his tail twisted and raised in the +air, and his whole body disgusting to the last degree.” He is the one +thing that is hated, and the only preoccupation. People fear him, +yet ridicule him. One is not even honest with him. In reality, +notwithstanding the ferocious appearance of his furnaces, he is the +eternal dupe. All the treaties he makes are forced from him by violence +or cunning. Feeble women throw him down: Margaret crushes his head with +her feet, and Juliana beats him with her chain. From all this a serenity +disengages itself, a disdain of evil, since it is powerless, and a +certainty of good, since virtue triumphs. It is only necessary to cross +one’s self, and the Devil can do no harm, but yells and disappears, +while the infernal regions tremble. + +Then, in this combat of legions of saints against Satan are developed +the fearful sufferings from persecutions. The executioners expose to the +flies the martyrs whose bodies are covered with honey; they make them +walk with bare feet over broken glass or red-hot coals, put them in +ditches with reptiles; chastise them with whips, whose thongs are +weighted with leaden balls; nail them when alive in coffins, which they +throw into the sea; hang them by their hair, and then set fire to them; +moisten their wounds with quicklime, boiling pitch, or molten lead; make +them sit on red-hot iron stools; burn their sides with torches; break +their bones on wheels, and torture them in every conceivable way. And, +with all this, physical pain counts for nothing; indeed, it seems to be +desired. Moreover, a continual miracle protects them. John drinks +poison but is unharmed. Sebastian smiles although pierced with arrows; +sometimes they remain in the air at the right or left of the martyr, or, +launched by the archer, they return upon himself and put out his eyes. +Molten lead is swallowed as if it were ice-water. Lions prostrate +themselves, and lick their hands as gently as lambs. The gridiron of +Saint Lawrence is of an agreeable freshness to him. He cries, “Unhappy +man, you have roasted one side, turn the other and then eat, for it is +sufficiently cooked.” Cecilia, placed in a boiling bath, is refreshed +by it. Christina exhorts those who would torture her. Her father had +her whipped by twelve men, who at last drop from fatigue; she is then +attached to a wheel, under which a fire is kindled, and the flame, +turning to one side, devours fifteen hundred persons. She is then thrown +into the sea, but the angels support her; Jesus comes to baptise her +in person, then gives her to the charge of Saint Michael, that he may +conduct her back to the earth; after that she is placed for five days in +a heated oven, where she suffers not, but sings constantly. Vincent, +who was exposed to still greater tortures, feels them not. His limbs are +broken, he is covered with red-hot irons, he is pricked with needles, +he is placed on a brazier of live coals, and then taken back to prison, +where his feet are nailed to a post. Yet he still lives, and his +pains are changed into a sweetness of flowers, a great light fills his +dungeon, and angels sing with him, giving him rest as if he were on a +bed of roses. The sweet sound of singing, and the fresh odour of flowers +spread without in the room, and when the guards saw the miracle they +were converted to the faith, and when Dacian heard of it, he was greatly +enraged, and said, “Do nothing more to him, for we are conquered.” Such +was the excitement among the persecutors, it could only end either by +their conversion or by their death. Their hands are paralysed; they +perish violently; they are choked by fish-bones; they are struck by +lightning, and their chariots are broken. In the meanwhile, the cells of +the martyrs are resplendent. Mary and the Apostles enter them at will, +although the doors are bolted. Constant aid is given, apparitions +descend from the skies, where angels are waiting, holding crowns of +precious stones. Since death seems joyous, it is not feared, and their +friends are glad when they succumb to it. On Mount Ararat ten thousand +are crucified, and at Cologne eleven thousand virgins are massacred by +the Huns. In the circuses they are devoured by wild beasts. Quirique, +who, by the influence of the Holy Spirit, taught like a man, suffered +martyrdom when but three years of age. Nursing-children reproved the +executioners. The hope for celestial happiness deadened the physical +senses and softened pain. Were they torn to pieces, or burnt, they +minded it not. They never yielded, and they called for the sword, which +alone could kill them. Eulalia, when at the stake, breathes the flame +that she may die the more quickly. Her prayer is granted, and a white +dove flies from her mouth and bears her soul to heaven. + +Angelique marvelled greatly at all these accounts. So many abominations +and such triumphant joy delighted her and carried her out of herself. + +But other points in the Legend, of quite a different nature, also +interested her; the animals, for instance, of which there were enough +to fill an Ark of Noah. She liked the ravens and the eagles who fed the +hermits. + +Then what lovely stories there were about the lions. The serviceable one +who found a resting-place in a field for Mary the Egyptian; the flaming +lion who protected virgins or maidens in danger; and then the lion of +Saint Jerome, to whose care an ass had been confided, and, when the +animal was stolen, went in search of him and brought him back. There was +also the penitent wolf, who had restored a little pig he had intended +eating. Then there was Bernard, who excommunicates the flies, and they +drop dead. Remi and Blaise feed birds at their table, bless them, +and make them strong. Francis, “filled with a dove-like simplicity,” + preaches to them, and exhorts them to love God. A bird was on a branch +of a fig-tree, and Francis, holding out his hand, beckoned to it, and +soon it obeyed, and lighted on his hand. And he said to it, “Sing my +sister, and praise the Lord.” And immediately the bird began to sing, +and did not go away until it was told to do so. + +All this was a continual source of recreation to Angelique, and gave her +the idea of calling to the swallows, and hoping they might come to her. + +The good giant Christopher, who carried the Infant Christ on his +shoulders, delighted her so much as to bring tears to her eyes. + +She was very merry over the misadventures of a certain Governor with +the three chambermaids of Anastasia, whom he hoped to have found in +the kitchen, where he kissed the stove and the kettles, thinking he +was embracing them. “He went out therefrom very black and ugly, and his +clothes quite smutched. And when his servants, who were waiting, saw him +in such a state, they thought he was the Devil. Then they beat him with +birch-rods, and, running away, left him alone.” + +But that which convulsed her most with laughter, was the account of the +blows given to the Evil One himself, especially when Juliana, +having been tempted by him in her prison cell, administered such an +extraordinary chastisement with her chain. “Then the Provost commanded +that Juliana should be brought before him; and when she came into his +presence, she was drawing the Devil after her, and he cried out, saying, +‘My good lady Juliana, do not hurt me any more!’ She led him in this way +around the public square, and afterwards threw him into a deep ditch.” + +Often Angelique would repeat to the Huberts, as they were all at work +together, legends far more interesting than any fairy-tale. She had +read them over so often that she knew them by heart, and she told in +a charming way the story of the Seven Sleepers, who, to escape +persecution, walled themselves up in a cavern, and whose awakening +greatly astonished the Emperor Theodosius. Then the Legend of Saint +Clement with its endless adventures, so unexpected and touching, where +the whole family, father, mother, and three sons, separated by terrible +misfortunes, are finally re-united in the midst of the most beautiful +miracles. + +Her tears would flow at these recitals. She dreamed of them at night, +she lived, as it were, only in this tragic and triumphant world of +prodigy, in a supernatural country where all virtues are recompensed by +all imaginable joys. + +When Angelique partook of her first Communion, it seemed as if she were +walking, like the saints, a little above the earth. She was a young +Christian of the primitive Church; she gave herself into the hands of +God, having learned from her book that she could not be saved without +grace. + +The Huberts were simple in their profession of faith. They went every +Sunday to Mass, and to Communion on all great fête-days, and this +was done with the tranquil humility of true belief, aided a little by +tradition, as the chasubliers had from father to son always observed the +Church ceremonies, particularly those at Easter. + +Hubert himself had a tendency to imaginative fancies. He would at times +stop his work and let fall his frame to listen to the child as she +read or repeated the legends, and, carried away for the moment by her +enthusiasm, it seemed as if his hair were blown about by the light +breath of some invisible power. He was so in sympathy with Angelique, +and associated her to such a degree with the youthful saints of the +past, that he wept when he saw her in her white dress and veil. This +day at church was like a dream, and they returned home quite exhausted. +Hubertine was obliged to scold them both, for, with her excellent +common-sense, she disliked exaggeration even in good things. + +From that time she had to restrain the zeal of Angelique, especially in +her tendency to what she thought was charity, and to which she wished +to devote herself. Saint Francis had wedded poverty; Julien the Chaplain +had called the poor his superiors; Gervasius and Protais had washed the +feet of the most indigent, and Martin had divided his cloak with them. +So she, following the example of Lucy, wished to sell everything +that she might give. At first she disposed of all her little private +possessions, then she began to pillage the house. But at last she +gave without judgment and foolishly. One evening, two days after her +Confirmation, being reprimanded for having thrown from the window +several articles of underwear to a drunken woman, she had a terrible +attack of anger like those when she was young; then, overcome by shame, +she was really ill and forced to keep her bed for a couple of days. + + + +CHAPTER III + +In the meanwhile, weeks and months went by. Two years had passed. +Angelique was now fourteen years of age and quite womanly. When she read +the “Golden Legend,” she would have a humming in her ears, the blood +circulated quickly through the blue veins near her temples, and she felt +a deep tenderness towards all these virgin saints. + +Maidenhood is the sister of the angels, the union of all good, +the overthrow of evil, the domain of faith. It gives grace, it is +perfection, which has only need to show itself to conquer. The action of +the Holy Spirit rendered Lucy so heavy that a thousand men and five pair +of oxen could not drag her away from her home. An officer who tried +to kiss Anastasia was struck blind. Under torture, the purity of the +virgins is always powerful; from their exquisite white limbs, torn by +instruments, milk flows instead of blood. Ten different times the story +is told of the young convert who, to escape from her family, who wish +her to marry against her will, assumes the garb of a monk, is accused of +some misdeed, suffers punishment without indicating herself, and at last +triumphs by announcing her name. Eugenia is in this way brought before +a judge, whom she recognises as her father and reveals herself to +him. Externally the combat of chastity recommences; always the thorns +reappear. Thus the wisest saints shrink from being tempted. As the world +is filled with snares, hermits flee to the desert, where they scourge +themselves, throw themselves on the snow, or in beds of prickly herbs. +A solitary monk covers his fingers with his mantle, that he may aid his +mother in crossing a creek. A martyr bound to a stake, being tempted by +a young girl, bites off his tongue with his teeth and spits it at her. +All glorify the state of single blessedness. Alexis, very wealthy and +in a high position, marries, but leaves his wife at the church-door. +One weds only to die. Justina, in love with Cyprianus, converts him, and +they walk together to their punishment. Cecilia, beloved by an angel, +reveals the secret to Valerian on their wedding-day, and he, that he may +see the spirit, consents to be baptised. He found in his room Cecilia +talking with the angel, who held in his hand two wreaths of roses, and, +giving one to Cecilia, and one to Valerian, he said, “Keep these crowns, +like your hearts, pure and unspotted.” In many cases it was proved +that death was stronger than love, and couples were united only as a +challenge to existence. It was said that even the Virgin Mary at times +prevented betrothals from ending in a marriage. A nobleman, a relative +of the King of Hungary, renounced his claims to a young girl of +marvellous beauty on this account. “Suddenly our Blessed Lady appeared, +and said to him: ‘If I am indeed so beautiful as you have called me, why +do you leave me for another?’ And he became a most devout man for the +rest of his life.” + +Among all this saintly company, Angelique had her preferences, and there +were those whose experiences touched her to the heart, and helped her +to correct her failings. Thus the learned Catherine, of high birth, +enchanted her by her great scientific knowledge, when, only eighteen +years of age, she was called by the Emperor Maximus to discuss certain +questions with fifty rhetoricians and grammarians. She astonished and +convinced them. “They were amazed and knew not what to say, but they +remained quiet. And the Emperor blamed them for their weakness in +allowing themselves to be so easily conquered by a young girl.” The +fifty professors then declared that they were converted. “And as soon +as the tyrant heard that, he had so terrible a fit of anger, that he +commanded they should all be burned to death in the public square.” + In her eyes Catherine was the invincible learned woman, as proud and +dazzling in intellect as in beauty, just as she would have liked to +be, that she might convert men, and be fed in prison by a dove, before +having her head cut off. But Saint Elizabeth, the daughter of the King +of Hungary, was for her a constant teacher and guide. Whenever she was +inclined to yield to her violent temper, she thought of this model of +gentleness and simplicity, who was at five years of age very devout, +refusing to join her playmates in their sports, and sleeping on the +ground, that, in abasing herself, she might all the better render homage +to God. Later, she was the faithful, obedient wife of the Landgrave of +Thuringia, always showing to her husband a smiling face, although she +passed her nights in tears. When she became a widow she was driven from +her estates, but was happy to lead the life of poverty. Her dress was so +thin from use, that she wore a grey mantle, lengthened out by cloth of +a different shade. The sleeves of her jacket had been torn, and were +mended with a material of another colour. The king, her father, wishing +her to come to him, sent for her by a Count. And when the Count saw her +clothed in such a way and spinning, overcome with surprise and grief, he +exclaimed: “Never before did one see the daughter of a Royal House in +so miserable a garb, and never was one known to spin wool until now.” + So Christian and sincere was her humility, that she ate black bread with +the poorest peasants, nursed them when ill, dressed their sores without +repugnance, put on coarse garments like theirs, and followed them in the +church processions with bare feet. She was once washing the porringers +and the utensils of the kitchen, when the maids, seeing her so out of +place, urged her to desist, but she replied, “Could I find another task +more menial even than this, I would do it.” Influenced by her example, +Angelique, who was formerly angry when obliged to do any cleaning in the +kitchen, now tried to invent some extremely disagreeable task when she +felt nervous and in need of control. + +But more than Catherine, more than Elizabeth, far nearer and dearer +to her than all the other saints, was Agnes, the child-martyr; and her +heart leaped with joy on refinding in the “Golden Legend” this virgin, +clothed with her own hair, who had protected her under the Cathedral +portal. What ardour of pure love, as she repelled the son of the +Governor when he accosted her on her way from school! “Go--leave me, +minister of death, commencement of sin, and child of treason!” How +exquisitely she described her beloved! “I love the One whose Mother was +a Virgin, and whose father was faithful to her, at whose beauty the sun +and moon marvelled, and at whose touch the dead were made alive.” And +when Aspasien commanded that “her throat should be cut by the sword,” + she ascended into Paradise to be united to her “betrothed, whiter and +purer than silver-gilt.” + +Always, when weary or disturbed, Angelique called upon and implored her, +and it seemed as if peace came to her at once. She saw her constantly +near her, and often she regretted having done or thought of things which +would have displeased her. + +One evening as she was kissing her hands, a habit which she still at +times indulged in, she suddenly blushed and turned away, although she +was quite alone, for it seemed as if the little saint must have seen +her. Agnes was her guardian angel. + +Thus, at fifteen Angelique was an adorable child. Certainly, neither the +quiet, laborious life, nor the soothing shadows of the Cathedral, nor +the legends of the beautiful saints, had made her an angel, a creature +of absolute perfection. She was often angry, and certain weaknesses of +character showed themselves, which had never been sufficiently guarded +against; but she was always ashamed and penitent if she had done wrong, +for she wished so much to be perfect. And she was so human, so full of +life, so ignorant, and withal so pure in reality. + +One day, on returning from a long excursion which the Huberts allowed +her to take twice a year, on Pentecost Monday and on Assumption Day, +she took home with her a sweetbriar bush, and then amused herself by +replanting it in the narrow garden. She trimmed it and watered it well: +it grew and sent out long branches, filled with odour. With her usual +intensity, she watched it daily, but was unwilling to have it grafted, +as she wished to see if, by some miracle, it could not be made to bear +roses. She danced around it, she repeated constantly: “This bush is like +me; it is like me!” And if one joked her upon her great wild-rose bush, +she joined them in their laughter, although a little pale, and with +tears almost ready to fall. Her violet-coloured eyes were softer than +ever, her half-opened lips revealed little white teeth, and her oval +face had a golden aureole from her light wavy hair. She had grown +tall without being too slight; her neck and shoulders were exquisitely +graceful; her chest was full, her waist flexible; and gay, healthy, of +a rare beauty, she had an infinite charm, arising from the innocence and +purity of her soul. + +Every day the affection of the Huberts for her increased. They often +talked together of their mutual wish to adopt her. Yet they took no +active measures in that way, lest they might have cause to regret it. +One morning, when the husband announced his final decision, his wife +suddenly began to weep bitterly. To adopt a child? Was not that the same +as giving up all hope of having one of their own? Yet it was useless for +them to expect one now, after so many years of waiting, and she gave her +consent, in reality delighted that she could call her her daughter. When +Angelique was spoken to on the subject, she threw her arms around their +necks, kissed them both, and was almost choked with tears of joy. + +So it was agreed upon that she was always to remain with them in this +house, which now seemed to be filled with her presence, rejuvenated by +her youth, and penetrated by her laughter. But an unexpected obstacle +was met with at the first step. The Justice of the Peace, Monsieur +Grandsire, on being consulted, explained to them the radical +impossibility of adoption, since by law the adopted must be “of age.” + Then, seeing their disappointment, he suggested the expedient of a legal +guardianship: any individual over fifty years of age can attach himself +to a minor of fifteen years or less by a legal claim, on becoming their +official protector. The ages were all right, so they were delighted, and +accepted. It was even arranged that they should afterwards confer the +title of adoption upon their ward by way of their united last will and +testament, as such a thing would be permitted by the Code. Monsieur +Grandsire, furnished with the demand of the husband and the +authorisation of the wife, then put himself in communication with the +Director of Public Aid, the general guardian for all abandoned children, +whose consent it was necessary to have. Great inquiries were made, +and at last the necessary papers were placed in Paris, with a certain +Justice of the Peace chosen for the purpose. And all was ready except +the official report which constitutes the legality of guardianship, when +the Huberts suddenly were taken with certain scruples. + +Before receiving Angelique into their family, ought not they to +ascertain if she had any relatives on her side? Was her mother still +alive? Had they the right to dispose of the daughter without being +absolutely sure that she had willingly been given up and deserted? Then, +in reality, the unknown origin of the child, which had troubled them +long ago, came back to them now and made them hesitate. They were so +tormented by this anxiety that they could not sleep. + +Without any more talk, Hubert unexpectedly announced that he was +going to Paris. Such a journey seemed like a catastrophe in his calm +existence. He explained the necessity of it to Angelique, by speaking of +the guardianship. He hoped to arrange everything in twenty-four hours. +But once in the city, days passed; obstacles arose on every side. He +spent a week there, sent from one to another, really doing nothing, and +quite discouraged. In the first place, he was received very coldly at +the Office of Public Assistance. The rule of the Administration is that +children shall not be told of their parents until they are of age. So +for two mornings in succession he was sent away from the office. He +persisted, however, explained the matter to three secretaries, made +himself hoarse in talking to an under-officer, who wished to counsel him +that he had not official papers. The Administration were quite ignorant. +A nurse had left the child there, “Angelique Marie,” without naming the +mother. In despair he was about to return to Beaumont, when a new idea +impelled him to return for the fourth time to the office, to see the +book in which the arrival of the infant had been noted down, and in that +way to have the address of the nurse. That proved quite an undertaking. +But at last he succeeded, and found it was a Madame Foucart, and that in +1850 she lived on the Rue des Deux-Ecus. + +Then he recommenced his hunting up and down. The end of the Rue des +Deux-Ecus had been demolished, and no shopkeeper in the neighbourhood +recollected ever having heard of Madame Foucart. He consulted the +directory, but there was no such name. Looking at every sign as he +walked along, he called on one after another, and at last, in this way, +he had the good fortune to find an old woman, who exclaimed, in answer +to his questions, “What! Do I know Madame Foucart? A most honourable +person, but one who has had many misfortunes. She lives on the Rue de +Censier, quite at the other end of Paris.” He hastened there at once. + +Warned by experience, he determined now to be diplomatic. But Madame +Foucart, an enormous woman, would not allow him to ask questions in +the good order he had arranged them before going there. As soon as he +mentioned the two names of the child, she seemed to be eager to talk, +and she related its whole history in a most spiteful way. “Ah! the +child was alive! Very well; she might flatter herself that she had for a +mother a most famous hussy. Yes, Madame Sidonie, as she was called since +she became a widow, was a woman of a good family, having, it is said, a +brother who was a minister, but that did not prevent her from being +very bad.” And she explained that she had made her acquaintance when she +kept, on the Rue Saint-Honoré, a little shop where they dealt in +fruit and oil from Provence, she and her husband, when they came from +Plassans, hoping to make their fortune in the city. The husband died and +was buried, and soon after Madame Sidonie had a little daughter, which +she sent at once to the hospital, and never after even inquired for +her, as she was “a heartless woman, cold as a protest and brutal as a +sheriff’s aid.” A fault can be pardoned, but not ingratitude! Was not it +true that, obliged to leave her shop as she was so heavily in debt, she +had been received and cared for by Madame Foucart? And when in her turn +she herself had fallen into difficulties, she had never been able to +obtain from Madame Sidonie, even the month’s board she owed her, nor the +fifteen francs she had once lent her. To-day the “hateful thing” lived +on the Rue de Faubourg-Poissonnière, where she had a little apartment of +three rooms. She pretended to be a cleaner and mender of lace, but she +sold a good many other things. Ah! yes! such a mother as that it was +best to know nothing about! + +An hour later, Hubert was walking round the house where Madame Sidonie +lived. He saw through the window a woman, thin, pale, coarse-looking, +wearing an old black gown, stained and greased. Never could the heart of +such a person be touched by the recollection of a daughter whom she had +only seen on the day of its birth. He concluded it would be best not to +repeat, even to his wife, many things that he had just learned. Still he +hesitated. Once more he passed by the place, and looked again. Ought +not he to go in, to introduce himself, and to ask the consent of the +unnatural parent? As an honest man, it was for him to judge if he had +the right of cutting the tie there and for ever. Brusquely he turned his +back, hurried away, and returned that evening to Beaumont. + +Hubertine had just learned that the _procès-verbal_ at Monsieur +Grandsire’s, for the guardianship of the child, had been signed. And +when Angelique threw herself into Hubert’s arms, he saw clearly by +the look of supplication in her eyes, that she had understood the true +reason of his journey. + +Then he said quietly: “My child, your mother is not living.” Angelique +wept, as she kissed him most affectionately. After this the subject was +not referred to. She was their daughter. + +At Whitsuntide, this year, the Huberts had taken Angelique with them +to lunch at the ruins of the Château d’Hautecœur, which overlooks the +Ligneul, two leagues below Beaumont; and, after the day spent in running +and laughing in the open air, the young girl still slept when, the next +morning, the old house-clock struck eight. + +Hubertine was obliged to go up and rap at her door. + +“Ah, well! Little lazy child! We have already had our breakfast, and it +is late.” + +Angelique dressed herself quickly and went down to the kitchen, +where she took her rolls and coffee alone. Then, when she entered the +workroom, where Hubert and his wife had just seated themselves, after +having arranged their frames for embroidery, she said: + +“Oh! how soundly I did sleep! I had quite forgotten that we had promised +to finish this chasuble for next Sunday.” + +This workroom, the windows of which opened upon the garden, was a large +apartment, preserved almost entirely in its original state. The two +principal beams of the ceiling, and the three visible cross-beams of +support, had not even been whitewashed, and they were blackened by smoke +and worm-eaten, while, through the openings of the broken plaster, here +and there, the laths of the inner joists could be seen. On one of the +stone corbels, which supported the beams, was the date 1463, without +doubt the date of the construction of the building. The chimney-piece, +also in stone, broken and disjointed, had traces of its original +elegance, with its slender uprights, its brackets, its frieze with a +cornice, and its basket-shaped funnel terminating in a crown. On the +frieze could be seen even now, as if softened by age, an ingenious +attempt at sculpture, in the way of a likeness of Saint Clair, the +patron of embroiderers. But this chimney was no longer used, and +the fireplace had been turned into an open closet by putting shelves +therein, on which were piles of designs and patterns. The room was now +heated by a great bell-shaped cast-iron stove, the pipe of which, after +going the whole length of the ceiling, entered an opening made expressly +for it in the wall. The doors, already shaky, were of the time of Louis +XIV.. The original tiles of the floor were nearly all gone, and had been +replaced, one by one, by those of a later style. It was nearly a hundred +years since the yellow walls had been coloured, and at the top of +the room they were almost of a greyish white, and, lower down, were +scratched and spotted with saltpetre. Each year there was talk of +repainting them, but nothing had yet been done, from a dislike of making +any change. + +Hubertine, busy at her work, raised her head as Angelique spoke and +said: + +“You know that if our work is done on Sunday, I have promised to give +you a basket of pansies for your garden.” + +The young girl exclaimed gaily: “Oh, yes! that is true. Ah, well! I will +do my best then! But where is my thimble? It seems as if all working +implements take to themselves wings and fly away, if not in constant +use.” + +She flipped the old _doigtier_ of ivory on the second joint of her +little finger, and took her place on the other side of the frame, +opposite to the window. + +Since the middle of the last century there had not been the slightest +modification in the fittings and arrangements of the workroom. Fashions +changed, the art of the embroiderer was transformed, but there was still +seen fastened to the wall the chantlate, the great piece of wood +where was placed one end of the frame or work, while the other end was +supported by a moving trestle. In the corners were many ancient tools--a +little machine called a “diligent,” with its wheels and its long +pins, to wind the gold thread on the reels without touching it; a hand +spinning-wheel; a species of pulley to twist the threads which were +attached to the wall; rollers of various sizes covered with silks and +threads used in the crochet embroidery. Upon a shelf was spread out an +old collection of punches for the spangles, and there was also to +be seen a valuable relic, in the shape of the classic chandelier in +hammered brass which belonged to some ancient master-workman. On the +rings of a rack made of a nailed leather strap were hung awls, mallets, +hammers, irons to cut the vellum, and roughing chisels of bogwood, which +were used to smooth the threads as fast as they were employed. And yet +again, at the foot of the heavy oaken table on which the cutting-out +was done, was a great winder, whose two movable reels of wicker held the +skeins. Long chains of spools of bright-coloured silks strung on cords +were hung near that case of drawers. On the floor was a large basket +filled with empty bobbins. A pair of great shears rested on the straw +seat of one of the chairs, and a ball of cord had just fallen on the +floor, half unwound. + +“Oh! what lovely weather! What perfect weather!” continued Angelique. +“It is a pleasure simply to live and to breathe.” + +And before stooping to apply herself to her work, she delayed another +moment before the open window, through which entered all the beauty of a +radiant May morning. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The sun shone brightly on the roof of the Cathedral, a fresh odour of +lilacs came up from the bushes in the garden of the Bishop. Angelique +smiled, as she stood there, dazzled, and as if bathed in the springtide. +Then, starting as if suddenly awakened from sleep, she said: + +“Father, I have no more gold thread for my work.” + +Hubert, who had just finished pricking the tracing of the pattern of a +cope, went to get a skein from the case of drawers, cut it, tapered +off the two ends by scratching the gold which covered the silk, and he +brought it to her rolled up in parchment. + +“Is that all you need?” + +“Yes, thanks.” + +With a quick glance she had assured herself that nothing more was +wanting; the needles were supplied with the different golds, the red, +the green, and the blue; there were spools of every shade of silk; the +spangles were ready; and the twisted wires for the gold lace were in the +crown of a hat which served as a box, with the long fine needles, the +steel pincers, the thimbles, the scissors, and the ball of wax. All +these were on the frame even, or on the material stretched therein, +which was protected by a thick brown paper. + +She had threaded a needle with the gold thread. But at the first stitch +it broke, and she was obliged to thread it again, breaking off tiny +bits of the gold, which she threw immediately into the pasteboard +waste-basket which was near her. + +“Now at last I am ready,” she said, as she finished her first stitch. + +Perfect silence followed. Hubert was preparing to stretch some material +on another frame. He had placed the two heavy ends on the chantlate and +the trestle directly opposite in such a way as to take lengthwise the +red silk of the cope, the breadths of which Hubertine had just stitched +together, and fitting the laths into the mortice of the beams, he +fastened them with four little nails. Then, after smoothing the material +many times from right to left, he finished stretching it and tacked on +the nails. To assure himself that it was thoroughly tight and firm, he +tapped on the cloth with his fingers and it sounded like a drum. + +Angelique had become a most skilful worker, and the Huberts were +astonished at her cleverness and taste. In addition to what they had +taught her, she carried into all she did her personal enthusiasm, which +gave life to flowers and faith to symbols. Under her hands, silk and +gold seemed animated; the smaller ornaments were full of mystic meaning; +she gave herself up to it entirely, with her imagination constantly +active and her firm belief in the infinitude of the invisible world. + +The Diocese of Beaumont had been so charmed with certain pieces of her +embroidery, that a clergyman who was an archaeologist, and another who +was an admirer of pictures, had come to see her, and were in raptures +before her Virgins, which they compared to the simple gracious figures +of the earliest masters. There was the same sincerity, the same +sentiment of the beyond, as if encircled in the minutest perfection of +detail. She had the real gift of design, a miraculous one indeed, which, +without a teacher, with nothing but her evening studies by lamplight, +enabled her often to correct her models, to deviate entirely from them, +and to follow her own fancies, creating beautiful things with the point +of her needle. So the Huberts, who had always insisted that a thorough +knowledge of the science of drawing was necessary to make a good +embroiderer, were obliged to yield before her, notwithstanding their +long experience. And, little by little, they modestly withdrew into the +background, becoming simply her aids, surrendering to her all the most +elaborate work, the under part of which they prepared for her. + +From one end of the year to the other, what brilliant and sacred marvels +passed through her hands! She was always occupied with silks, satins, +velvets, or cloths of gold or silver. She embroidered chasubles, stoles, +maniples, copes, dalmatics, mitres, banners, and veils for the chalice +and the pyx. But, above all, their orders for chasubles never failed, +and they worked constantly at those vestments, with their five colours: +the white, for Confessors and Virgins; the red, for Apostles and +Martyrs; the black, for the days of fasting and for the dead; the +violet, for the Innocents; and the green for fête-days. Gold was also +often used in place of white or of green. The same symbols were always +in the centre of the Cross: the monograms of Jesus and of the Virgin +Mary, the triangle surrounded with rays, the lamb, the pelican, the +dove, a chalice, a monstrance, and a bleeding heart pierced with thorns; +while higher up and on the arms were designs, or flowers, all the +ornamentation being in the ancient style, and all the flora in large +blossoms, like anemones, tulips, peonies, pomegranates, or hortensias. +No season passed in which she did not remake the grapes and thorns +symbolic, putting silver on black, and gold on red. For the most costly +vestments, she varied the pictures of the heads of saints, having, as a +central design, the Annunciation, the Last Supper, or the Crucifixion. +Sometimes the orfreys were worked on the original material itself; at +others, she applied bands of silk or satin on brocades of gold cloth, or +of velvet. And all this efflorescence of sacred splendour was created, +little by little, by her deft fingers. At this moment the vestment on +which Angelique was at work was a chasuble of white satin, the cross +of which was made by a sheaf of golden lilies intertwined with bright +roses, in various shades of silk. In the centre, in a wreath of little +roses of dead gold, was the monogram of the Blessed Virgin, in red and +green gold, with a great variety of ornaments. + +For an hour, during which she skilfully finished the little roses, the +silence had not been broken even by a single word. But her thread broke +again, and she re-threaded her needle by feeling carefully under the +frame, as only an adroit person can do. Then, as she raised her head, +she again inhaled with satisfaction the pure, fresh air that came in +from the garden. + +“Ah!” she said softly, “how beautiful it was yesterday! The sunshine is +always perfect.” + +Hubertine shook her head as she stopped to wax her thread. + +“As for me, I am so wearied, it seems as if I had no arms, and it tires +me to work. But that is not strange, for I so seldom go out, and am no +longer young and strong, as you are at sixteen.” + +Angelique had reseated herself and resumed her work. She prepared the +lilies by sewing bits of vellum on certain places that had been marked, +so as to give them relief, but the flowers themselves were not to be +made until later, for fear the gold be tarnished were the hands moved +much over it. + +Hubert, who, having finished arranging the material in its frame, +was about drawing with pumice the pattern of the cope, joined in the +conversation and said: “These first warm days of spring are sure to give +me a terrible headache.” + +Angelique’s eyes seemed to be vaguely lost in the rays which now fell +upon one of the flying buttresses of the church, as she dreamily added: +“Oh no, father, I do not think so. One day in the lively air, like +yesterday, does me a world of good.” + +Having finished the little golden leaves, she began one of the large +roses, near the lilies. Already she had threaded several needles with +the silks required, and she embroidered in stitches varying in length, +according to the natural position and movement of the petals, and +notwithstanding the extreme delicacy and absorbing nature of this work, +the recollections of the previous day, which she lived over again in +thought and in silence, now came to her lips, and crowded so closely +upon each other that she no longer tried to keep them back. So she +talked of their setting out upon their expedition, of the beautiful +fields they crossed, of their lunch over there in the ruins of +Hautecœur, upon the flagstones of a little room whose tumble-down walls +towered far above the Ligneul, which rolled gently among the willows +fifty yards below them. + +She was enthusiastic over these crumbling ruins, and the scattered +blocks of stone among the brambles, which showed how enormous the +colossal structure must have been as, when first built, it commanded +the two valleys. The donjon remained, nearly two hundred feet in height, +discoloured, cracked, but nevertheless firm, upon its foundation pillars +fifteen feet thick. Two of its towers had also resisted the attacks +of Time--that of Charlemagne and that of David--united by a heavy wall +almost intact. In the interior, the chapel, the court-room, and certain +chambers were still easily recognised; and all this appeared to have +been built by giants, for the steps of the stairways, the sills of the +windows, and the branches on the terraces, were all on a scale far out +of proportion for the generation of to-day. It was, in fact, quite a +little fortified city. Five hundred men could have sustained there a +siege of thirty months without suffering from want of ammunition or of +provisions. For two centuries the bricks of the lowest story had been +disjointed by the wild roses; lilacs and laburnums covered with blossoms +the rubbish of the fallen ceilings; a plane-tree had even grown up in +the fireplace of the guardroom. But when, at sunset, the outline of the +donjon cast its long shadow over three leagues of cultivated ground, +and the colossal Château seemed to be rebuilt in the evening mists, one +still felt the great strength, and the old sovereignty, which had made +of it so impregnable a fortress that even the kings of France trembled +before it. + +“And I am sure,” continued Angelique, “that it is inhabited by the souls +of the dead, who return at night. All kinds of noises are heard there; +in every direction are monsters who look at you, and when I turned round +as we were coming away, I saw great white figures fluttering above the +wall. But, mother, you know all the history of the castle, do you not?” + +Hubertine replied, as she smiled in an amused way: “Oh! as for ghosts, I +have never seen any of them myself.” + +But in reality, she remembered perfectly the history, which she had read +long ago, and to satisfy the eager questionings of the young girl, she +was obliged to relate it over again. + +The land belonged to the Bishopric of Rheims, since the days of Saint +Remi, who had received it from Clovis. + +An archbishop, Severin, in the early years of the tenth century, had +erected at Hautecœur a fortress to defend the country against the +Normans, who were coming up the river Oise, into which the Ligneul +flows. + +In the following century a successor of Severin gave it in fief to +Norbert, a younger son of the house of Normandy, in consideration of an +annual quit-rent of sixty sous, and on the condition that the city of +Beaumont and its church should remain free and unincumbered. It was in +this way that Norbert I. became the head of the Marquesses of Hautecœur, +whose famous line from that date became so well known in history. Hervé +IV., excommunicated twice for his robbery of ecclesiastical property, +became a noted highwayman, who killed, on a certain occasion, with his +own hands, thirty citizens, and his tower was razed to the ground by +Louis le Gros, against whom he had dared to declare war. Raoul I., who +went to the Crusades with Philip Augustus, perished before Saint Jean +d’Acre, having been pierced through the heart by a lance. But the most +illustrious of the race was John V, the Great, who, in 1225, rebuilt the +fortress, finishing in less than five years this formidable Château of +Hautecœur, under whose shelter he, for a moment, dreamed of aspiring +to the throne of France, and after having escaped from being killed in +twenty battles, he at last died quietly in his bed, brother-in-law to +the King of Scotland. Then came Felician III, who made a pilgrimage to +Jerusalem barefooted; Hervé VII., who asserted his claims to the throne +of Scotland; and still many others, noble and powerful in their day +and generation, down to Jean IX., who, under Mazarin, had the grief of +assisting at the dismantling of the castle. After a desperate siege, the +vaults of the towers and of the donjon were blown up with powder, and +the different constructions were set on fire; where Charles VI had been +sent to rest, and to turn his attention from his vagaries, and where, +nearly two hundred years later, Henri IV. had passed a week as Gabrielle +D’Estress. Thenceforth, all these royal souvenirs had passed into +oblivion. + +Angelique, without stopping the movement of her needle, listened +eagerly, as if the vision of these past grandeurs rose up from her +frame, in proportion as the rose grew there in its delicate life +of colour. Her ignorance of general history enlarged facts, and she +received them as if they were the basis of a marvellous legend. She +trembled with delight, and, transported by her faith, it seemed as if +the reconstructed Château mounted to the very gates of heaven, and the +Hautecœurs were cousins to the Virgin Mary. + +When there was a pause in the recital she asked, “Is not our new Bishop +Monseigneur d’Hautecœur, a descendant of this noted family?” + +Hubertine replied that Monseigneur must belong to the younger branch of +the family, as the elder branch had been extinct for a very long time. +It was, indeed, a most singular return, as for centuries the Marquesses +of Hautecœur and the clergy of Beaumont had been hostile to each +other. Towards 1150 an abbot undertook to build a church, with no other +resources than those of his Order; so his funds soon gave out, when the +edifice was no higher than the arches of the side chapels, and they were +obliged to cover the nave with a wooden roof. Eighty years passed, and +Jean V. came to rebuild the Château, when he gave three hundred thousand +pounds, which, added to other sums, enabled the work on the church to be +continued. The nave was finished, but the two towers and the great front +were terminated much later, towards 1430, in the full fifteenth century. +To recompense Jean V. for his liberality, the clergy accorded to him, +for himself and his descendants, the right of burial in a chapel of the +apse, consecrated to St. George, and which, since that time, had been +called the Chapel Hautecœur. But these good terms were not of long +duration. The freedom of Beaumont was put in constant peril by the +Château, and there were continual hostilities on the questions of +tribute and of precedence. One especially, the right of paying toll, +which the nobles demanded for the navigation of the Ligneul, perpetuated +the quarrels. Then it was that the great prosperity of the lower town +began, with its manufacturing of fine linen and lace, and from this +epoch the fortune of Beaumont increased daily, while that of Hautecœur +diminished, until the time when the castle was dismantled and the church +triumphed. Louis XIV. made of it a cathedral, a bishop’s palace was +built in the old enclosure of the monks, and, by a singular chain of +circumstances, to-day a member of the family of Hautecœur had returned +as a bishop to command the clergy, who, always powerful, had conquered +his ancestors, after a contest of four hundred years. + +“But,” said Angelique, “Monseigneur has been married, and has not he a +son at least twenty years of age?” + +Hubertine had taken up the shears to remodel one of the pieces of +vellum. + +“Yes,” she replied, “the Abbot Cornille told me the whole story, and it +is a very sad history. When but twenty years of age, Monseigneur was a +captain under Charles X. In 1830, when only four-and-twenty, he resigned +his position in the army, and it is said that from that time until he +was forty years of age he led an adventurous life, travelling everywhere +and having many strange experiences. At last, one evening, he met, +at the house of a friend in the country, the daughter of the Count de +Valencay, Mademoiselle Pauline, very wealthy, marvellously beautiful, +and scarcely nineteen years of age, twenty-two years younger than +himself. He fell violently in love with her, and, as she returned his +affection, there was no reason why the marriage should not take place +at once. He then bought the ruins of Hautecœur for a mere song--ten +thousand francs, I believe--with the intention of repairing the Château +and installing his wife therein when all would be in order and in +readiness to receive her. In the meanwhile they went to live on one of +his family estates in Anjou, scarcely seeing any of their friends, and +finding in their united happiness the days all too short. But, alas! at +the end of a year Pauline had a son and died.” + +Hubert, who was still occupied with marking out his pattern, raised +his head, showing a very pale face as he said in a low voice: “Oh! the +unhappy man!” + +“It was said that he himself almost died from his great grief,” + continued Hubertine. “At all events, a fortnight later he entered into +Holy Orders, and soon became a priest. That was twenty years ago, and +now he is a bishop. But I have also been told that during all this time +he has refused to see his son, the child whose birth cost the life of +its mother. He had placed him with an uncle of his wife’s, an old abbot, +not wishing even to hear of him, and trying to forget his existence. One +day a picture of the boy was sent him, but in looking at it he found +so strong a resemblance to his beloved dead that he fell on the floor +unconscious and stiff, as if he had received a blow from a hammer. . . . +Now age and prayer have helped to soften his deep grief, for yesterday +the good Father Cornille told me that Monseigneur had just decided to +send for his son to come to him.” + +Angelique, having finished her rose, so fresh and natural that perfume +seemed to be exhaled from it, looked again through the window into the +sunny garden, and, as if in a reverie, she said in a low voice: “The son +of Monseigneur!” + +Hubertine continued her story. + +“It seems that the young man is handsome as a god, and his father wished +him to be educated for the priesthood. But the old abbot would not +consent to that, saying that the youth had not the slightest inclination +in that direction. And then, to crown all, his wealth, it is said, is +enormous. Two million pounds sterling! Yes, indeed! His mother left +him a tenth of that sum, which was invested in land in Paris, where the +increase in the price of real estate has been so great, that to-day it +represents fifty millions of francs. In short, rich as a king!” + +“Rich as a king, beautiful as a god!” repeated Angelique unconsciously, +in her dreamy voice. + +And with one hand she mechanically took from the frame a bobbin wound +with gold thread, in order to make the open-work centre of one of the +large lilies. After having loosened the end from the point of the reel, +she fastened it with a double stitch of silk to the edge of the vellum +which was to give a thickness to the embroidery. Then, continuing her +work, she said again, without finishing her thought, which seemed lost +in the vagueness of its desire, “Oh! as for me, what I would like, that +which I would like above all else----” + +The silence fell again, deep and profound, broken only by the dull sound +of chanting which came from the church. Hubert arranged his design by +repassing with a little brush all the perforated lines of the drawing, +and thus the ornamentation of the cope appeared in white on the red +silk. It was he who first resumed speaking. + +“Ah! those ancient days were magnificent! Noblemen then wore costumes +weighted with embroidery. At Lyons, material was sometimes sold for as +much as six hundred francs an ell. One ought to read the by-laws and +regulations of the Guild of Master Workmen, where it is laid down that +‘The embroiderers of the King have always the right to summon, by armed +force if necessary, the workmen of other masters.’ . . . And then we +had coats of arms, too! Azure, a fesse engrailed or, between three +fleurs-de-lys of the same, two of them being near the top and the third +in the point. Ah! it was indeed beautiful in the days of long ago!” + +He stopped a moment, tapping the frame with his fingers to shake off the +dust. Then he continued: + +“At Beaumont they still have a legend about the Hautecœurs, which my +mother often related to me when I was a child. . . . A frightful plague +ravaged the town, and half of the inhabitants had already fallen victims +to it, when Jean V., he who had rebuilt the fortress, perceived that God +had given him the power to contend against the scourge. Then he went on +foot to the houses of the sick, fell on his knees, kissed them, and as +soon as his lips had touched them, while he said, ‘If God is willing, +I wish it,’ the sufferers were healed. And lo! that is why these words +have remained the device of the Hautecœurs, who all have since that +day been able to cure the plague. . . . Ah! what a proud race of men! +A noble dynasty! Monseigneur himself is called Jean XII., and the first +name of his son must also be followed by a number, like that of a +prince.” + +He stopped. Each one of his words lulled and prolonged the reverie of +Angelique. She continued, in a half-singing tone: “Oh! what I wish for +myself! That which I would like above all else----” + +Holding the bobbin, without touching the thread, she twisted the gold by +moving it from left to right alternately on the vellum, fastening it at +each turn with a stitch in silk. Little by little the great golden lily +blossomed out. + +Soon she continued: “Yes, what I would like above all would be to marry +a prince--a prince whom I had never seen; who would come towards sunset, +just before the waning daylight, and would take me by the hand and lead +me to his palace. And I should wish him to be very handsome, as well as +very rich! Yes, the most beautiful and the wealthiest man that had ever +been seen on the earth! He should have superb horses that I could hear +neighing under my windows, and jewels which he would pour in streams +into my lap, and gold that would fall from my hands in a deluge when I +opened them. And what I wish still further is, that this prince of +mine should love me to distraction, so that I might also love him +desperately. We would then remain very young, very good, and very noble, +for ever!” + +Hubert, leaving his work, had approached her smilingly; whilst +Hubertine, in a friendly way, shook her finger at the young girl. + +“Oh, what a vain little creature! Ah! ambitious child, you are quite +incorrigible. Now, you are quite beside yourself with your need of being +a queen. At all events such a dream is much better than to steal sugar +and to be impertinent. But really, you must not indulge in such fancies. +It is the Evil One who prompts them, and it is pride that speaks, as +well as passion.” + +Gay and candid, Angelique looked her in the face as she said: “But +mother, mother mine, what are you saying? Is it, then, a sin to love +that which is rich and beautiful? I love it because it is rich and +beautiful, and so cheers my heart and soul. A beautiful object brightens +everything that is near it, and helps one to live, as the sun does. You +know very well that I am not selfish. Money? Oh! you would see what a +good use I would make of it, if only I had it in abundance! I would rain +it over the town; it should be scattered among the miserable. Think what +a blessing it would be to have no more poverty! In the first place, +as for you and my father, I would give you everything. You should be +dressed in robes and garments of brocades, like the lords and ladies of +the olden time.” + +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It is ridiculous,” she +said. “But, my dear child, you must remember that you are poor, and that +you have not a penny for your marriage-portion. How can you, then, for a +moment dream of a prince? Are you, then, so desirous to marry a prince?” + +“Why should not I wish to marry such a man?” And she looked quite +amazed, as she continued: “Marry him? Of course I would do so. Since he +would have plenty of money, what difference would it make if I had none? +I should owe everything to him, and on that very account I should love +him all the more deeply.” + +This victorious reasoning enchanted Hubert, who seemed carried above the +earth by Angelique’s enthusiasm. He would willingly have accompanied her +on the wings of a cloud to the regions of fancy. + +“She is right,” he exclaimed. + +But his wife glanced at him reprovingly. She became quite stern. + +“My child, you will think differently later on, when you know life +better.” + +“Life?--but I know it already.” + +“How is it possible for you to know it? You are too young; you are +ignorant of evil. Yet evil exists and is very powerful.” + +“Evil--evil?” + +Angelique repeated the word very slowly, as if to penetrate its meaning. +And in her pure eyes was a look of innocent surprise. Evil? She knew all +about it, for she had read of it in the “Golden Legend.” Was not +evil Satan himself? And had not she seen how, although he constantly +reappeared, he was always overthrown? After every battle he remained +crushed to earth, thoroughly conquered, and in a most pitiable state. + +“Evil? Ah, mother mine, if you knew how little I fear it! It is only +necessary once to conquer it and afterwards life is all happiness.” + +Hubertine appeared troubled and looked anxious. + +“You will make me almost regret having brought you up in this house, +alone with us two, and away from the world as it were. I am really +afraid that some day we shall regret having kept you in such complete +ignorance of the realities of life. What Paradise are you looking for? +What is your idea of the world?” + +A look of hope brightened the face of the young girl, while, bending +forward, she still moved the bobbin back and forth with a continuous, +even motion. + +“You then really think, mother, that I am very foolish, do you not? This +world is full of brave people. When one is honest and industrious, one +is always rewarded. I know also that there are some bad people, but they +do not count. We do not associate with them, and they are soon punished +for their misdeeds. And then, you see, as for the world, it produces on +me, from a distance, the effect of a great garden; yes, of an immense +park, all filled with flowers and with sunshine. It is such a blessing +to live, and life is so sweet that it cannot be bad.” + +She grew excited, as if intoxicated by the brightness of the silks and +the gold threads she manipulated so well with her skilful fingers. + +“Happiness is a very simple thing. We are happy, are we not? All three +of us? And why? Simply because we love each other. Then, after all, it +is no more difficult than that; it is only necessary to love and to +be loved. So, you see, when the one I expect really comes, we shall +recognise each other immediately. It is true I have not yet seen him, +but I know exactly what he ought to be. He will enter here and will say: +‘I have come in search of you.’ And I shall reply: ‘I expected you, and +will go with you.’ He will take me with him, and our future will be at +once decided upon. He will go into a palace, where all the furniture +will be of gold, encrusted in diamonds. Oh, it is all very simple!” + +“You are crazy; so do not talk any more,” interrupted Hubertine, coldly. + +And seeing that the young girl was still excited, and ready to continue +to indulge her fancies, she continued to reprove her. + +“I beg you to say no more, for you absolutely make me tremble. Unhappy +child! When we really marry you to some poor mortal you will be crushed, +as you fall to earth from these heights of the imagination. Happiness, +for the greater part of the world, consists in humility and obedience.” + +Angelique continued to smile with an almost obstinate tranquillity. + +“I expect him, and he will come.” + +“But she is right,” exclaimed Hubert, again carried away by her +enthusiasm. “Why need you scold her? She is certainly pretty, and dainty +enough for a king. Stranger things than that have happened, and who +knows what may come?” + +Sadly Hubertine looked at him with her calm eyes. + +“Do not encourage her to do wrong, my dear. You know, better than +anyone, what it costs to follow too much the impulses of one’s heart.” + +He turned deadly pale, and great tears came to the edge of his eyelids. +She immediately repented of having reproved him, and rose to offer him +her hands. But gently disengaging himself, he said, stammeringly: + +“No, no, my dear; I was wrong. Angelique, do you understand me? You must +always listen to your mother. She alone is wise, and we are both of us +very foolish. I am wrong; yes, I acknowledge it.” + +Too disturbed to sit down, leaving the cope upon which he had been +working, he occupied himself in pasting a banner that was finished, +although still in its frame. After having taken the pot of Flemish glue +from the chest of drawers, he moistened with a brush the underside of +the material, to make the embroidery firmer. His lips still trembled, +and he remained quiet. + +But if Angelique, in her obedience, was also still, she allowed her +thoughts to follow their course, and her fancies mounted higher and +still higher. She showed it in every feature--in her mouth, that ecstasy +had half opened, as well as in her eyes, where the infinite depth of her +visions seemed reflected. Now, this dream of a poor girl, she wove it +into the golden embroidery. It was for this unknown hero that, little +by little, there seemed to grow on the white satin the beautiful great +lilies, and the roses, and the monogram of the Blessed Virgin. The stems +of the lilies had all the gracious pointings of a jet of light, whilst +the long slender leaves, made of spangles, each one being sewed on with +gold twist, fell in a shower of stars. In the centre, the initials of +Mary were like the dazzling of a relief in massive gold, a marvellous +blending of lacework and of embossing, or goffering, which burnt like +the glory of a tabernacle in the mystic fire of its rays. And the roses +of delicately-coloured silks seemed real, and the whole chasuble was +resplendent in its whiteness of satin, which appeared covered almost +miraculously with its golden blossoms. + +After a long silence, Angelique, whose cheeks were flushed by the blood +which mounted into them from her excitement, raised her head, and, +looking at Hubertine, said again, a little maliciously: + +“I expect him, and he will come.” + +It was absurd for her thus to give loose reins to her imagination. But +she was willful. She was convinced in her own mind that everything would +come to pass, eventually, as she wished it might. Nothing could weaken +her happy conviction. + +“Mother,” she added, “why do you not believe me, since I assure you it +must be as I say?” + +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders, and concluded the best thing for her +to do was to tease her. + +“But I thought, my child, that you never intended being married. Your +saints, who seem to have turned your head, they led single lives. Rather +than do otherwise they converted their lovers, ran away from their +homes, and were put to death.” + +The young girl listened and was confused. But soon she laughed merrily. +Her perfect health, and all her love of life, rang out in this sonorous +gaiety. “The histories of the saints! But that was ages ago! Times have +entirely changed since then. God having so completely triumphed, no +longer demands that anyone should die for Him.” + +When reading the Legend, it was the marvels which fascinated her, not +the contempt of the world and the desire for death. She added: “Most +certainly I expect to be married; to love and to be loved, and thus be +very happy.” + +“Be careful, my dear,” said Hubertine, continuing to tease her. “You +will make your guardian angel, Saint Agnes, weep. Do not you know that +she refused the son of the Governor, and preferred to die, that she +might be wedded to Jesus?” + +The great clock of the belfry began to strike; numbers of sparrows flew +down from an enormous ivy-plant which framed one of the windows of +the apse. In the workroom, Hubert, still silent, had just hung up the +banner, moist from the glue, that it might dry, on one of the great iron +hooks fastened to the wall. + +The sun in the course of the morning had lightened up different parts +of the room, and now it shone brightly upon the old tools--the diligent, +the wicker winder, and the brass chandelier--and as its rays fell upon +the two workers, the frame at which they were seated seemed almost +on fire, with its bands polished by use, and with the various objects +placed upon it, the reels of gold cord, the spangles, and the bobbins of +silk. + +Then, in this soft, charming air of spring, Angelique looked at +the beautiful symbolic lily she had just finished. Opening wide her +ingenuous eyes, she replied, with an air of confiding happiness, to +Hubertine’s last remark in regard to the child-martyr, Saint Agnes: + +“Ah, yes! But it was Jesus who wished it to be so.” + + + +CHAPTER V + +Notwithstanding her thoroughly cheerful nature, Angelique liked +solitude; and it was to her the greatest of recreations to be alone +in her room, morning and evening. There she gave herself up to her +thoughts; there she indulged to the full scope in her most joyous +fancies. Sometimes even during the day, when she could go there for a +moment, she was as happy as if, in full freedom, she had committed some +childish prank. + +The chamber was very large, taking in at least half of the upper story, +the other half being the garret. It was whitewashed everywhere; not only +the walls and the beams, but the joists, even to the visible copings of +the mansard part of the roof; and in this bare whiteness, the old oaken +furniture seemed almost as black as ebony. At the time of the decoration +of the sleeping-room below, and the improvements made in the parlour, +the ancient furniture, which had been bought at various epochs, had +been carried upstairs. There was a great carved chest of the Renaissance +period, a table and chairs which dated from the reign of Louis XIII., an +enormous bedstead, style Louis XIV., and a very handsome wardrobe, Louis +XV. In the middle of these venerable old things a white porcelain stove, +and the little toilet-table, covered with a pretty oilcloth, seemed out +of place and to mar the dull harmony. Curtained with an old-fashioned +rose-coloured chintz, on which were bouquets of heather, so faded that +the colour had become a scarcely perceptible pink, the enormous bedstead +preserved above all the majesty of its great age. + +But what pleased Angelique more than anything else was the little +balcony on which the window opened. Of the two original windows, one +of them, that at the left, had been closed by simply fastening it with +nails, and the balcony, which formerly extended across the front of +the building, was now only before the window at the right. As the lower +beams were still strong, a new floor had been made, and above it an +iron railing was firmly attached in place of the old worm-eaten wooden +balustrade. This made a charming little corner, a quiet nook under the +gable point, the leaden laths of which had been renewed at the beginning +of the century. By bending over a little, the whole garden-front of the +house could be seen in a very dilapidated state, with its sub-basement +of little cut stones, its panels ornamented with imitation bricks, and +its large bay window, which to-day had been made somewhat smaller. The +roof of the great porch of the kitchen-door was covered with zinc. And +above, the interduces of the top, which projected three feet or more, +were strengthened by large, upright pieces of wood, the ends of which +rested on the string-course of the first floor. All this gave to the +balcony an appearance of being in a perfect vegetation of timber, as if +in the midst of a forest of old wood, which was green with wallflowers +and moss. + +Since she occupied the chamber, Angelique had spent many hours there, +leaning over the balustrade and simply looking. At first, directly +under her was the garden, darkened by the eternal shade of the evergreen +box-trees; in the corner nearest the church, a cluster of small +lilac-bushes surrounded an old granite bench; while in the opposite +corner, half hidden by a beautiful ivy which covered the whole wall +at the end as if with a mantle, was a little door opening upon the +Clos-Marie, a vast, uncultivated field. This Clos-Marie was the old +orchard of the monks. A rivulet of purest spring-water crossed it, the +Chevrotte, where the women who occupied the houses in the neighbourhood +had the privilege of washing their linen; certain poor people sheltered +themselves in the ruins of an old tumble-down mill; and no other persons +inhabited this field, which was connected with the Rue Magloire simply +by the narrow lane of the Guerdaches, which passed between the high +walls of the Bishop’s Palace and those of the Hotel Voincourt. In +summer, the centenarian elms of the two parks barred with their +green-leaved tops the straight, limited horizon which in the centre +was cut off by the gigantic brow of the Cathedral. Thus shut in on +all sides, the Clos-Marie slept in the quiet peace of its abandonment, +overrun with weeds and wild grass, planted with poplars and willows sown +by the wind. Among the great pebbles the Chevrotte leaped, singing as it +went, and making a continuous music as if of crystal. + +Angelique was never weary of this out-of-the-way nook. Yet for seven +years she had seen there each morning only what she had looked at on the +previous evening. The trees in the little park of the Hotel Voincourt, +whose front was on the Grand Rue, were so tufted and bushy that it +was only in the winter she could occasionally catch a glimpse of the +daughter of the Countess, Mademoiselle Claire, a young girl of her own +age. + +In the garden of the Bishop was a still more dense thickness of +branches, and she had often tried in vain to distinguish there the +violet-coloured cassock of Monseigneur; and the old gate, with its +Venetian slats above and at the sides, must have been fastened up for +a very long time, for she never remembered to have seen it opened, not +even for a gardener to pass through. Besides the washerwomen in the +Clos, she always saw the same poor, ragged little children playing or +sleeping in the grass. + +The spring this year was unusually mild. She was just sixteen years of +age, and until now she had been glad to welcome with her eyes alone +the growing green again of the Clos-Marie under the April sunshine. +The shooting out of the tender leaves, the transparency of the warm +evenings, and all the reviving odours of the earth had simply amused her +heretofore. But this year, at the first bud, her heart seemed to beat +more quickly. As the grass grew higher and the wind brought to her all +the strong perfumes of the fresh verdure, there was in her whole being +an increasing agitation. Sudden inexplicable pain would at times seize +her throat and almost choke her. One evening she threw herself, weeping, +into Hubertine’s arms, having no cause whatever for grief, but, on the +contrary, overwhelmed with so great, unknown a happiness, that her heart +was too full for restraint. In the night her dreams were delightful. +Shadows seemed to pass before her, and she fell into such an ecstatic +state that on awakening she did not dare to recall them, so confused +was she by the angelic visions of bliss. Sometimes, in the middle of her +great bed, she would rouse herself suddenly, her two hands joined and +pressed against her breast as if a heavy burden were weighing her down +and almost suffocating her. She would then jump up, rush across the +room in her bare feet, and, opening the window wide, would stand there, +trembling slightly, until at last the pure fresh air calmed her. She +was continually surprised at this great change in herself, as if the +knowledge of joys and griefs hitherto unknown had been revealed to +her in the enchantment of dreams, and that her eyes had been opened to +natural beauties which surrounded her. + +What--was it really true that the unseen lilacs and laburnums of the +Bishop’s garden had so sweet an odour that she could no longer breathe +it without a flush of colour mounting to her cheeks? Never before had +she perceived this warmth of perfume which now touched her as if with a +living breath. + +And again, why had she never remarked in preceding years a great +Japanese Paulownia in blossom, which looked like an immense violet +bouquet as it appeared between two elm-trees in the garden of the +Voincourts? This year, as soon as she looked at it, her eyes grew +moist, so much was she affected by the delicate tints of the pale purple +flowers. She also fancied that the Chevrotte had never chattered +so gaily over the pebbles among the willows on its banks. The river +certainly talked; she listened to its vague words, constantly repeated, +which filled her heart with trouble. Was it, then, no longer the field +of other days, that everything in it so astonished her and affected her +senses in so unusual a way? Or, rather, was not she herself so changed +that, for the first time, she appreciated the beauty of the coming into +life of trees and plants? + +But the Cathedral at her right, the enormous mass which obstructed the +sky, surprised her yet more. Each morning she seemed to see it for the +first time; she made constant discoveries in it, and was delighted to +think that these old stones lived and had lived like herself. She did +not reason at all on the subject, she had very little knowledge, but +she gave herself up to the mystic flight of the giant, whose coming into +existence had demanded three centuries of time, and where were placed +one above the other the faith and the belief of generations. At the +foundation, it was kneeling as if crushed by prayer, with the Romanesque +chapels of the nave, and with the round arched windows, plain, +unornamented, except by slender columns under the archivolts. Then it +seemed to rise, lifting its face and hands towards heaven, with the +pointed windows of its nave, built eighty years later; high, delicate +windows, divided by mullions on which were broken bows and roses. Then +again it sprung from the earth as if in ecstasy, erect, with the piers +and flying buttresses of the choir finished and ornamented two centuries +after in the fullest flamboyant Gothic, charged with its bell-turrets, +spires, and pinnacles. A balustrade had been added, ornamented with +trefoils, bordering the terrace on the chapels of the apse. Gargoyles at +the foot of the flying buttresses carried off the water from the roofs. +The top was also decorated with flowery emblems. The whole edifice +seemed to burst into blossom in proportion as it approached the sky in +a continual upward flight, as if, relieved at being delivered from the +ancient sacerdotal terror, it was about to lose itself in the bosom of a +God of pardon and of love. It seemed to have a physical sensation which +permeated it, made it light and happy, like a sacred hymn it had just +heard sung, very pure and holy, as it passed into the upper air. + +Moreover, the Cathedral was alive. Hundreds of swallows had constructed +their nests under the borders of trefoil, and even in the hollows of the +bell-turrets and the pinnacles, and they were continually brushing their +wings against the flying buttresses and the piers which they inhabited. +There were also the wood-pigeons of the elms in the Bishop’s garden, who +held themselves up proudly on the borders of the terraces, going slowly, +as if walking merely to show themselves off. Sometimes, half lost in +the blue sky, looking scarcely larger than a fly, a crow alighted on +the point of a spire to smooth its wings. The old stones themselves were +animated by the quiet working of the roots of a whole flora of plants, +the lichens and the grasses, which pushed themselves through the +openings in the walls. On very stormy days the entire apse seemed to +awake and to grumble under the noise of the rain as it beat against the +leaden tiles of the roof, running off by the gutters of the cornices and +rolling from story to story with the clamour of an overflowing torrent. +Even the terrible winds of October and of March gave to it a soul, a +double voice of anger and of supplication, as they whistled through +its forests of gables and arcades of roseate ornaments and of little +columns. The sun also filled it with life from the changing play of +its rays; from the early morning, which rejuvenated it with a delicate +gaiety, even to the evening, when, under the slightly lengthened-out +shadows, it basked in the unknown. + +And it had its interior existence. The ceremonies with which it was ever +vibrating, the constant swinging of its bells, the music of the organ, +and the chanting of the priests, all these were like the pulsation of +its veins. There was always a living murmur in it: half-lost sounds, +like the faint echo of a Low Mass; the rustling of the kneeling +penitents, a slight, scarcely perceptible shivering, nothing but the +devout ardour of a prayer said without words and with closed lips. + +Now, as the days grew longer, Angelique passed more and more time in the +morning and evening with her elbows on the balustrade of the balcony, +side by side with her great friend, the Cathedral. She loved it the best +at night, when she saw the enormous mass detach itself like a huge block +on the starry skies. The form of the building was lost. It was with +difficulty that she could even distinguish the flying buttresses, which +were thrown like bridges into the empty space. It was, nevertheless, +awake in the darkness, filled with a dream of seven centuries, made +grand by the multitudes who had hoped or despaired before its altars. +It was a continual watch, coming from the infinite of the past, going to +the eternity of the future; the mysterious and terrifying wakefulness +of a house where God Himself never sleeps. And in the dark, motionless, +living mass, her looks were sure to seek the window of a chapel of the +choir, on the level of the bushes of the Clos-Marie, the only one which +was lighted up, and which seemed like an eye which was kept open all +the night. Behind it, at the corner of a pillar, was an ever-burning +altar-lamp. In fact, it was the same chapel which the abbots of old had +given to Jean V. d’Hautecœur, and to his descendants, with the right of +being buried there, in return for their liberality. Dedicated to Saint +George, it had a stained-glass window of the twelfth century, on which +was painted the legend of the saint. From the moment of the coming on of +twilight, this historic representation came out from the shade, +lighted up as if it were an apparition, and that was why Angelique was +fascinated, and loved this particular point, as she gazed at it with her +dreamy eyes. + +The background of the window was blue and the edges red. Upon this +sombre richness of colouring, the personages, whose flying draperies +allowed their limbs to be seen, stood out in relief in clear light +on the glass. Three scenes of the Legend, placed one above the other, +filled the space quite to the upper arch. At the bottom, the daughter of +the king, dressed in costly royal robes, on her way from the city to be +eaten by the dreadful monster, meets Saint George near the pond, from +which the head of the dragon already appears; and a streamer of silk +bears these words: “Good Knight, do not run any danger for me, as you +can neither help me nor deliver me, but will have to perish with me.” + Then in the middle the combat takes place, and the saint, on horseback, +cuts the beast through and through. This is explained by the following +words: “George wielded so well his lance that he wounded the enemy and +threw him upon the earth.” At last, at the top, the Princess is seen +leading back into the city the conquered dragon: “George said, ‘Tie your +scarf around his neck, and do not be afraid of anything, oh beautiful +maiden, for when you have done so he will follow you like a well-trained +dog.’” + +When the window was new it must have been surmounted in the middle of +the arch by an ornamental design. But later, when the chapel belonged to +the Hautecœurs, they replaced the original work by their family coat +of arms. And that was why, in the obscure nights, armorial bearings of +a more recent date shown out above the painted legend. They were the +old family arms of Hautecœur, quartered with the well-known shield of +Jerusalem; the latter being argent, a cross potencée, or, between four +crosselettes of the same; and those of the family, azure, a castle, or, +on it a shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent, the whole +between three fleurs-de-lys, or; the shield was supported on the dexter +and sinister sides by two wyverns, or; and surmounted by the silver +helmet with its blue feathers, embossed in gold, placed frontwise, and +closed by eleven bars, which belongs only to Dukes, Marshals of France, +titled Lords and heads of Sovereign Corporations. And for motto were +these words: “_Si Dieu volt, ie vueil_.” + +Little by little, from having seen him piercing the monster with +his lance, whilst the king’s daughter raised her clasped hands in +supplication, Angelique became enamoured of Saint George. He was her +hero. At the distance where she was she could not well distinguish the +figures, and she looked at them as if in the aggrandisement of a dream; +the young girl was slight, was a blonde, and, in short, had a face not +unlike her own, while the saint was frank and noble looking, with the +beauty of an archangel. It was as if she herself had just been saved, +and she could have kissed his hands with gratitude. And to this +adventure, of which she dreamed confusedly, of a meeting on the border +of a lake and of being rescued from a great danger by a young man more +beautiful than the day, was added the recollection of her excursion +to the Château of Hautecœur, and a calling up to view of the feudal +donjon, in its original state, peopled with the noble lords of olden +times. + +The arms glistened like the stars on summer nights; she knew them well, +she read them easily, with their sonorous words, for she was so in the +habit of embroidering heraldic symbols. There was Jean V., who stopped +from door to door in the town ravaged by the plague, and went in to +kiss the lips of the dying, and cured them by saying, “_Si Dieu volt, +ie vueil_.” And Felician III, who, forewarned that a severe illness +prevented Philippe le Bel from going to Palestine, went there in his +place, barefooted and holding a candle in his hand, and for that he had +the right of quartering the arms of Jerusalem with his own. Other and +yet other histories came to her mind, especially those of the ladies of +Hautecœur, the “happy dead,” as they were called in the Legend. In +that family the women die young, in the midst of some great happiness. +Sometimes two or three generations would be spared, then suddenly Death +would appear, smiling, as with gentle hands he carried away the daughter +or the wife of a Hautecœur, the oldest of them being scarcely twenty +years of age, at the moment when they were at the height of earthly love +and bliss. For instance, Laurette, daughter of Raoul I., on the evening +of her betrothal to her cousin Richard, who lived in the castle, having +seated herself at her window in the Tower of David, saw him at his +window in the Tower of Charlemagne, and, thinking she heard him call +her, as at that moment a ray of moonlight seemed to throw a bridge +between them, she walked toward him. But when in the middle she made in +her haste a false step and overpassed the ray, she fell, and was crushed +at the foot of the tower. So since that day, each night when the moon is +bright and clear, she can be seen walking in the air around the Château, +which is bathed in white by the silent touch of her immense robe. Then +Balbine, wife of Hervé VII., thought for six months that her husband had +been killed in the wars. But, unwilling to give up all hope, she watched +for him daily from the top of the donjon, and when at last she saw him +one morning on the highway, returning to his home, she ran down quickly +to meet him, but was so overcome with joy, that she fell dead at the +entrance of the castle. Even at this day, notwithstanding the ruins, as +soon as twilight falls, it is said she still descends the steps, runs +from story to story, glides through the corridors and the rooms, and +passes like a phantom through the gaping windows which open into the +desert void. All return. Isabeau, Gudule, Vonne, Austreberthe, all these +“happy dead,” loved by the stern messenger, who spared them from the +vicissitudes of life by taking them suddenly when, in early youth, they +thought only of happiness. On certain nights this white-robed band fill +the house as if with a flight of doves. To their number had lately been +added the mother of the son of Monseigneur, who was found lifeless on +the floor by the cradle of her infant, where, although ill, she dragged +herself to die, in the fullness of her delight at embracing him. These +had haunted the imagination of Angelique; she spoke of them as if they +were facts of recent occurrence, which might have happened the day +before. She had read the names of Laurette and of Balbine on old +memorial tablets let into the walls of the chapel. Then why should not +she also die young and very happy, as they had? The armouries would +glisten as now, the saint would come down from his place in the +stained-glass window, and she would be carried away to heaven on the +sweet breath of a kiss. Why not? + +The “Golden Legend” had taught her this: Was not it true that the +miracle is really the common law, and follows the natural course of +events? It exists, is active, works with an extreme facility on +every occasion, multiplies itself, spreads itself out, overflows even +uselessly, as if for the pleasure of contradicting the self-evident +rules of Nature. Its power seems to be on the same plane as that of the +Creator. Albrigan, King of Edeese, writes to Jesus, who replies to him. +Ignatius receives letters from the Blessed Virgin. In all places the +Mother and the Son appear, disguise themselves, and talk with an air of +smiling good-nature. When Stephen meets them they are very familiar with +him. All the virgins are wed to Jesus, and the martyrs mount to heaven, +where they are to be united to Mary. And as for the angels and saints, +they are the ordinary companions of men. They come, they go, they pass +through walls, they appear in dreams, they speak from the height of +clouds, they assist at births and deaths, they support those who are +tortured, they deliver those who are in prison, and they go on dangerous +missions. Following in their footsteps is an inexhaustible efflorescence +of prodigies. Sylvester binds the mouth of a dragon with a thread. +The earth rises to make a seat for Hilary, whose companions wished to +humiliate him. A precious stone falls into the chalice of Saint Loup. A +tree crushes the enemies of Saint Martin; a dog lets loose a hare, and +a great fire ceases to burn at his command. Mary the Egyptian walks +upon the sea; honey-bees fly from the mouth of Ambrosius at his birth. +Continually saints cure diseases of the eye, withered limbs, paralysis, +leprosy, and especially the plague. There is no disease that resists the +sign of the Cross. In a crowd, the suffering and the feeble are placed +together, that they may be cured in a mass, as if by a thunderbolt. +Death itself is conquered, and resurrections are so frequent that they +become quite an everyday affair. And when the saints themselves are +dead the wonders do not cease, but are redoubled, and are like perennial +flowers which spring from their tombs. It is said that from the head and +the feet of Nicholas flowed two fountains of oil which cured every ill. +When the tomb of Saint Cecilia was opened an odour of roses came up from +her coffin. That of Dorothea was filled with manna. All the bones of +virgins and of martyrs performed marvels: they confounded liars, they +forced robbers to give back their stolen goods, they granted the prayers +of childless wives, they brought the dying back to life. Nothing was +impossible for them; in fact the Invisible reigned, and the only law +was the caprice of the supernatural. In the temples the sorcerers mix +themselves up with the popular idea, and scythes cut the grass without +being held, brass serpents move, and one hears bronze statues laugh and +wolves sing. Immediately the saints reply and overwhelm them. The Host +is changed into living food, sacred Christian images shed drops of +blood, sticks set upright in the ground blossom into flower, springs +of pure water appear in dry places, warm loaves of bread multiply +themselves at the feet of the needy, a tree bows down before some holy +person, and so on. Then, again, decapitated heads speak, broken chalices +mend themselves, the rain turns aside from a church to submerge a +neighbouring palace, the robes of hermits never wear out, but renew +themselves at each season like the skin of a beast. In Armenia at one +time the persecutors threw into the sea the leaden coffins of five +martyrs, and the one containing the body of Saint Bartholomew the +Apostle took the lead, and the four others accompanied it as a guard of +honour. So, all together, in regular order, like a fine squadron, they +floated slowly along, urged by the breeze, through the whole length of +the sea, until they reached the shores of Sicily. + +Angelique was a firm believer in miracles. In her ignorance she lived +surrounded by wonders. The rising of the stars, or the opening of a +violet; each fact was a surprise to her. It would have appeared to her +simply ridiculous to have imagined the world so mechanical as to +be governed by fixed laws. There were so many things far beyond her +comprehension, she felt herself so weak and helpless in the midst of +forces whose power it was impossible to measure, that she would not even +have suspected they existed, had it not been for the great questioning +breath which at times passed over her face. So, trusting, and +as thoroughly Christian as if belonging to the primitive Church, +spiritually fed by her readings from the “Golden Legend,” she gave +herself up entirely into the hands of God, with only the spot of +original sin to be cleansed from her soul. She had no liberty of action +or freedom of will; God alone could secure her salvation by giving +her the gift of His grace. That grace had been already manifested by +bringing her to the hospitable roof of the Huberts, where, under the +shadow of the Cathedral, she could lead a life of submission, of purity, +and of faith. She often heard within her soul the grumblings of heredity +tendency to evil, and asked herself what would have become of her had +she been left on her native soil. Without doubt she would have been bad; +while here, in this blessed corner of the earth, she had grown up free +from temptation, strong and healthy. Was it not grace that had given her +this home, where she was surrounded by such charming histories she had +so easily committed to memory, where she had learned such perfect faith +in the present and hope in the future, and where the invisible and +unknown, or the miracles of ages, seemed natural to her, and quite on +a level with her daily life? It had armed her for all combats, as +heretofore it had armed the martyrs. And she created an imaginary +experience for herself almost unknowingly. It was, in fact, the +inevitable result of a mind overcharged and excited by fables; it was +increased by her ignorance of the life within and about her, as well +as from her loneliness. She had not had many companions, so all desires +went from her only to return to her. + +Sometimes she was in such a peculiar state that she would put her hands +over her face, as if doubting her own identity. Was she herself only +an illusion, and would she suddenly disappear some day and vanish into +nothingness? Who would tell her the truth? + +One evening in the following May, on this same balcony where she had +spent so much time in vague dreams, she suddenly broke into tears. +She was not low-spirited in the least, but it seemed to her as if her +anxiety arose from a vain expectation of a visit from someone. Yet who +was there to come? It was very dark; the Clos-Marie marked itself out +like a great black spot under the sky filled with stars, and she could +but vaguely distinguish the heavy masses of the old elm-trees of the +Bishop’s garden, and of the park of the Hotel Voincourt. Alone the +window of the chapel sent out a little light. If no one were to come, +why did her heart beat so rapidly? It was nothing new, this feeling of +waiting, or of hope, but it was dated from the long ago, from her early +youth; it was like a desire, a looking forward for something which +had grown with her growth, and ended in this feverish anxiety of her +seventeen years. Nothing would have surprised her, as for weeks she +had heard the sound of voices in this mysterious corner, peopled by her +imagination. The “Golden Legend” had left there its supernatural world +of saints and martyrs, and the miracle was all ready to appear there. +She understood well that everything was animated, that the voices came +from objects hitherto silent; that the leaves of the trees, the waters +of the Chevrotte, and the stones of the Cathedral spoke to her. But what +was it that all these whisperings from the Invisible wished to explain? +What did these unknown forces above and around her wish to do with her +as they floated in the air? She kept her eyes fixed upon the darkness, +as if she were at an appointed meeting with she knew not whom, and +she waited, still waited, until she was overcome with sleep, whilst it +seemed to her as if some supernatural power were deciding her destiny, +irrespective of her will or wish. + +For four evenings Angelique was nervous, and wept a great deal in +the darkness. She remained in her usual place and was patient. The +atmosphere seemed to envelope her, and as it increased in density it +oppressed her more and more, as if the horizon itself had become smaller +and was shutting her in. Everything weighed upon her heart. Now there +was a dull murmuring of voices in her brain; yet she was not able to +hear them clearly, or to distinguish their meaning. It was as if Nature +itself had taken possession of her, and the earth, with the vast heavens +above it, had penetrated into her being. At the least sound her hands +burned and her eyes tried to pierce the darkness. Was the wonderful +event about to take place, the prodigy she awaited? No, there was +nothing yet. It was probably merely the beating of the wings of a night +bird. And she listened again, attentively, until she could distinguish +the difference of sound between the leaves of the elms and the willows. +At least twenty times she trembled violently when a little stone rolled +in the rivulet, or a prowling animal jumped over the wall. She leaned +forward; but there was nothing--still nothing. + +At last, after some days, when at night a warmer darkness fell from the +sky where no moon was visible, a change began. She felt it, but it was +so slight, so almost imperceptible, she feared that she might have been +mistaken in the little sound she heard, which seemed unlike the usual +noises she knew so well. She held her breath, as the sound seemed +very long in returning. At last it came again, louder than before, but +equally confused. She would have said it came from a great distance, +that it was a scarcely-defined step, and that the trembling of the air +announced the approach of something out of sight and out of hearing. +That which she was expecting came slowly from the invisible slight +movement of what surrounded her. Little by little it disengaged itself +from her dream, like a realisation of the vague longings of her youth. +Was it the Saint George of the chapel window, who had come down from his +place and was walking on the grass in silence towards her? Just then, +by chance, the altar-light was dimmed, so that she could not distinguish +the faintest outline of the figures on the painted glass, but all seemed +like a blue cloud of vapoury mist. That was all she heard or learned at +that time of the mystery. + +But on the morrow, at the same hour, by a like obscurity, the noise +increased and approached a little nearer. It was certainly the sound of +steps, of real steps, which walked upon the earth. They would stop for a +moment, then recommence here and there, moving up and down, without her +being able to say precisely where they were. Perhaps they came from +the garden of the Voincourts, where some night pedestrian was lingering +under the trees. Or it might be, rather, that they were in the tufted +masses of the great lilac-bushes of the park of the Bishop, whose strong +perfume made her almost ill. She might do her best to try to penetrate +the darkness, it was only by her hearing that she was forewarned of the +coming events, aided a little by her sense of smell, as the perfume of +the flowers was increased as if a breath were mingled with it. And +so for several nights the steps resounded under the balcony, and she +listened as they came nearer, until they reached the walls under her +feet. There they stopped, and a long silence followed, until she seemed +almost to lose consciousness in this slow embrace of something of which +she was ignorant. + +Not long after, she saw one evening the little crescent of the new moon +appear among the stars. But it soon disappeared behind the brow of +the Cathedral, like a bright, living eye that the lid re-covers. +She followed it with regret, and at each nightfall she awaited its +appearance, watched its growth, and was impatient for this torch which +would ere long light up the invisible. In fact, little by little, the +Clos-Marie came out from the obscurity, with the ruins of its old mill, +its clusters of trees, and its rapid little river. And then, in the +light, creation continued. That which came from a vision ended in being +embodied. For at first she only perceived that a dim shadow was moving +under the moonlight. What was it, then? A branch moved to and fro by the +wind? Or was it a large bat in constant motion? There were moments when +everything disappeared, and the field slept in so deathly a stillness +that she thought her eyes had deceived her. Soon there was no longer any +doubt possible, for a dark object had certainly just crossed the open +space and had glided from one willow-tree to another. It appeared, then +disappeared, without her being able exactly to define it. + +One evening she thought she distinguished the dim outline of two +shoulders, and at once she turned her eyes towards the chapel window. It +had a greyish tint, as if empty, for the moon shining directly upon +it had deadened the light within. At that moment she noticed that the +living shadow grew larger, as it approached continually nearer and +nearer, walking in the grass at the side of the church. In proportion as +she realised it was a fact that someone was there, she was overcome by +an indefinable sensation, a nervous feeling that one has on being looked +at by mysterious unseen eyes. + +Certainly someone was there under the trees who was regarding her +fixedly. She had on her hands and face, as it were, a physical +impression of those long, ardent, yet timid looks; but she did not +withdraw herself from them, because she knew they were pure, and came +from the enchanted world of which she had read in the “Golden Legend”; +and, in the certainty of a promised happiness, her first anxiety was +quickly changed into a delicious tranquillity. + +One night, suddenly, on the ground whitened by the moon’s rays, the +shadow designed itself plainly and clearly. It was indeed that of a man +whom she could not see, as he was hidden by the willows. As he did not +move, she was able to look for a long time at his shadow. + +From that moment Angelique had a secret. Her bare, whitewashed chamber +was filled with it. She remained there for hours lying on her great +bed--where she seemed lost, she was so little--her eyes closed, but not +asleep, and seeing continually before her, in her waking dreams, this +motionless shadow upon the earth. When she re-opened her eyes at dawn, +her looks wandered from the enormous wardrobe to the odd carved chest, +from the porcelain stove to the little toilet-table, as if surprised +at not seeing there the mysterious silhouette, which she could have so +easily and precisely traced from memory. In her sleep she had seen it +gliding among the pale heather-blossoms on her curtains. In her dreams, +as in her waking hours, her mind was filled with it. It was a companion +shadow to her own. She had thus a double being, although she was alone +with her fancies. + +This secret she confided to no one, not even to Hubertine, to whom, +until now, she had always told even her thoughts. When the latter, +surprised at her gaiety, questioned her, she blushed deeply as she +replied that the early spring had made her very happy. From morning to +evening she hummed little snatches of song, like a bee intoxicated +by the heat of the sun’s rays. Never before had the chasubles she +embroidered been so resplendent with silk and gold. The Huberts smiled +as they watched her, thinking simply that this exuberance of spirits +came from her state of perfect health. As the day waned she grew more +excited, she sang at the rising of the moon, and as soon as the hour +arrived she hurried to her balcony, and waited for the shadow to appear. +During all the first quarters of the moon she found it exact at each +rendezvous, erect and silent. But that was all. What was the cause +of it? Why was it there? Was it, indeed, only a shadow? Was not it, +perhaps, the saint who had left his window, or the angel who had +formerly loved Saint Cecilia, and who had now come to love her in her +turn? Although she was not vain, these thoughts made her proud, and were +as sweet to her as an invisible caress. Then she grew impatient to know +more, and her watching recommenced. + +The moon, at its full, lighted up the Clos-Marie. When it was at its +zenith, the trees, under the white rays which fell straight upon them +in perpendicular lines, cast no more shadows, but were like running +fountains of silent brightness. The whole garden was bathed and filled +with a luminous wave as limpid as crystal, and the brilliancy of it +was so penetrating that everything was clearly seen, even to the fine +cutting of the willow-leaves. The slightest possible trembling of air +seemed to wrinkle this lake of rays, sleeping in the universal peace +among the grand elm-trees of the neighbouring garden and the gigantic +brow of the Cathedral. + +Two more evenings had passed like this, when, on the third night, as +Angelique was leaning on her elbows and looking out, her heart seemed to +receive a sudden shock. There, in the clear light, she saw him standing +before her and looking at her. His shadow, like that of the trees, had +disappeared under his feet, and he alone was there, distinctly seen. At +this distance she saw--as if it were full day--that he was tall, slight, +a blonde, and apparently about twenty years of age. He resembled either +a Saint George or a superb picture of Christ, with his curly hair, his +thin beard, his straight nose, rather large, and his proudly-smiling +black eyes. And she recognised him perfectly; never had she seen another +like him; it was he, her hero, and he was exactly as she expected to +find him. The wonder was at last accomplished; the slow creation of the +invisible had perfected itself in this living apparition, and he came +out from the unknown, from the movement of things, from murmuring +voices, from the action of the night, from all that had enveloped her, +until she almost fainted into unconsciousness. She also saw him as if he +were lifted above the earth, so supernatural appeared to be his coming, +whilst the miraculous seemed to surround him on every side as it floated +over the mysterious moon-lake. He had as his escort the entire people of +the Legend--the saints whose staffs blossomed, the virgins whose wounds +shed milk--and the stars seemed to pale before this white group of +perfection. + +Angelique continued to look at him. He raised his arms, and held them +out, wide open. She was not at all afraid, but smiled sweetly. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +It was a great affair for the whole household when, every three months, +Hubertine prepared the “lye” for the wash. A woman was hired to aid +them, the Mother Gabet, as she was called, and for four days all +embroidery was laid aside, while Angelique took her part in the unusual +work, making of it a perfect amusement, as she soaped and rinsed the +clothes in the clean water of the Chevrotte. The linen when taken from +the ashes was wheeled to the Clos-Marie, through the little gate of +communication in the garden. There the days were spent in the open air +and the sunshine. + +“I will do the washing this time, mother, for it is the greatest of +delights to me.” + +And gaily laughing, with her sleeves drawn up above her elbows, +flourishing the beetle, Angelique struck the clothes most heartily +in the pleasure of such healthy exercise. It was hard work, but she +thoroughly enjoyed it, and only stopped occasionally to say a few words +or to show her shiny face covered with foam. + +“Look, mother! This makes my arms strong. It does me a world of good.” + +The Chevrotte crossed the field diagonally, at first drowsily, then its +stream became very rapid as it was thrown in great bubbles over a pebbly +descent. It came from the garden of the Bishop, through a species +of floodgate left at the foot of the wall, and at the other end it +disappeared under an arched vault at the corner of the Hotel Voincourt, +where it was swallowed up in the earth, to reappear two hundred yards +farther on, as it passed along the whole length of the Rue Basse to the +Ligneul, into which it emptied itself. Therefore it was very necessary +to watch the linen constantly, for, run as fast as possible, every piece +that was once let go was almost inevitably lost. + +“Mother, wait, wait a little! I will put this heavy stone on the +napkins. We shall then see if the river can carry them away. The little +thief!” + +She placed the stone firmly, then returned to draw another from the old, +tumble-down mill, enchanted to move about and to fatigue herself; and, +although she severely bruised her finger, she merely moistened it a +little, saying, “Oh! that is nothing.” + +During the day the poor people who sheltered themselves in the ruins +went out to ask for charity from the passers-by on the highways. So the +Clos was quite deserted. It was a delicious, fresh solitude, with its +clusters of pale-green willows, its high poplar-trees, and especially +its verdure, its overflowing of deep-rooted wild herbs and grasses, so +high that they came up to one’s shoulders. A quivering silence came from +the two neighbouring parks, whose great trees barred the horizon. +After three o’clock in the afternoon the shadow of the Cathedral +was lengthened out with a calm sweetness and a perfume of evaporated +incense. + +Angelique continued to beat the linen harder still, with all the force +of her well-shaped white arms. + +“Oh, mother dear! You can have no idea how hungry I shall be this +evening! . . . Ah! you know that you have promised to give me a good +strawberry-cake.” + +On the day of the rinsing, Angelique was quite alone. The _mère_ Gabet, +suffering from a sudden, severe attack of sciatica, had not been able to +come as usual, and Hubertine was kept at home by other household cares. + +Kneeling in her little box half filled with straw, the young girl took +the pieces one by one, shook them for a long time in the swiftly-rolling +stream, until the water was no longer dimmed, but had become as clear +as crystal. She did not hurry at all, for since the morning she had been +tormented by a great curiosity, having seen, to her astonishment, an old +workman in a white blouse, who was putting up a light scaffolding before +the window of the Chapel Hautecœur. Could it be that they were about to +repair the stained-glass panes? There was, it must be confessed, great +need of doing so. Several pieces were wanting in the figure of Saint +George, and in other places, where in the course of centuries panes that +had been broken had been replaced by ordinary glass. Still, all this was +irritating to her. She was so accustomed to the gaps of the saint who +was piercing the dragon with his sword, and of the royal princess as she +led the conquered beast along with her scarf, that she already mourned +as if one had the intention of mutilating them. It was sacrilege to +think of changing such old, venerable things. But when she returned +to the field after her lunch, all her angry feelings passed away +immediately; for a second workman was upon the staging, a young man this +time, who also wore a white blouse. And she recognised him! It was he! +Her hero! + +Gaily, without any embarrassment, Angelique resumed her place on her +knees on the straw of her box. Then, with her wrists bare, she put her +hands in the deep, clear water, and recommenced shaking the linen back +and forth. + +Yes, it was he--tall, slight, a blonde, with his fine beard and his hair +curled like that of a god, his complexion as fresh as when she had first +seen him under the white shadow of the moonlight. Since it was he, there +was nothing to be feared for the window; were he to touch it, he would +only embellish it. And it was no disappointment to her whatever to +find him in this blouse, a workman like herself, a painter on glass, no +doubt. On the contrary, this fact made her smile, so absolutely certain +was she of the eventual fulfillment of her dream of royal fortune. Now, +it was simply an appearance, a beginning. What good would it do her +to know who he was, from whence he came, or whither he was going? Some +morning he would prove to be that which she expected him to be. A shower +of gold would stream from the roof of the Cathedral, a triumphal march +would break forth in the distant rumblings of the organ, and all would +come true. She did not stay to ask herself how he could always be there, +day and night. Yet it was evident either that he must live in one of the +neighbouring houses, or he must pass by the lane des Guerdaches, which +ran by the side of the Bishop’s park to the Rue Magloire. + +Then a charming hour passed by. She bent forward, she rinsed her linen, +her face almost touching the fresh water; but each time she took a +different piece she raised her head, and cast towards the church a look, +in which from the agitation of her heart, was a little good-natured +malice. And he, upon the scaffolding, with an air of being closely +occupied in examining the state of the window, turned towards her, +glancing at her sideways, and evidently much disturbed whenever she +surprised him doing so. It was astonishing how quickly he blushed, how +dark red his face became. At the slightest emotion, whether of anger or +interest, all the blood in his veins seemed to mount to his face. He had +flashing eyes, which showed will; yet he was so diffident, that, when he +knew he was being criticised, he was embarrassed as a little child, did +not seem to know what to do with his hands, and stammered out his orders +to the old man who accompanied him. + +As for Angelique, that which delighted her most, as she refreshed her +arms in this turbulent water, was to picture him innocent like herself, +ignorant of the world, and with an equally intense desire to have a +taste of life. There was no need of his telling to others who he was, +for had not invisible messengers and unseen lips made known to her that +he was to be her own? She looked once more, just as he was turning his +head; and so the minutes passed, and it was delicious. + +Suddenly she saw that he jumped from the staging, then that he walked +backwards quite a distance through the grass, as if to take a certain +position from which he could examine the window more easily. But she +could not help smiling, so evident was it that he simply wished +to approach her. He had made a firm decision, like a man who risks +everything, and now it was touching as well as comical to see that he +remained standing a few steps from her, his back towards her, not daring +to move, fearing that he had been too hasty in coming as far as he +had done. For a moment she thought he would go back again to the +chapel-window as he had come from it, without paying any attention to +her. However, becoming desperate, at last he turned, and as at that +moment she was glancing in his direction, their eyes met, and they +remained gazing fixedly at each other. They were both deeply confused; +they lost their self-possession, and might never have been able to +regain it, had not a dramatic incident aroused them. + +“Oh dear! Oh dear!” exclaimed the young girl, in distress. + +In her excitement, a dressing-sacque, which she had been rinsing +unconsciously, had just escaped her, and the stream was fast bearing it +away. Yet another minute and it would disappear round the corner of the +wall of the Voincourt park, under the arched vault through which the +Chevrotte passed. + +There were several seconds of anxious waiting. He saw at once what had +happened, and rushed forward. But the current, leaping over the pebbles, +carried this sacque, which seemed possessed, as it went along, much more +rapidly than he. He stooped, thinking he had caught it, but took up only +a handful of soapy foam. Twice he failed. The third time he almost fell. +Then, quite vexed, with a brave look as if doing something at the peril +of his life, he went into the water, and seized the garment just as it +was about being drawn under the ground. + +Angelique, who until now had followed the rescue anxiously, quite upset, +as if threatened by a great misfortune, was so relieved that she had an +intense desire to laugh. This feeling was partly nervous, it is true, +but not entirely so. For was not this the adventure of which she had so +often dreamed? This meeting on the border of a lake; the terrible danger +from which she was to be saved by a young man, more beautiful than the +day? Saint George, the tribune, the warrior! These were simply united in +one, and he was this painter of stained glass, this young workman in +his white blouse! When she saw him coming back, his feet wet through +and through, as he held the dripping camisole awkwardly in his hand, +realising the ridiculous side of the energy he had employed in saving it +from the waves, she was obliged to bite her tongue to check the outburst +of gaiety which seemed almost to choke her. + +He forgot himself as he looked at her. She was like a most adorable +child in this restrained mirth with which all her youth seemed to +vibrate. Splashed with water, her arms almost chilled by the stream, +she seemed to send forth from herself the purity and clearness of +these living springs which rushed from the mossy woods. She was an +impersonation of health, joy, and freshness, in the full sunlight. One +could easily fancy that she might be a careful housekeeper and a queen +withal as she was there, in her working dress, with her slender waist, +her regal neck, her oval face, such as one reads of in fairy-tales. And +he did not know how to give her back the linen, he found her exquisite, +so perfect a representation of the beauty of the art he loved. It +enraged him, in spite of himself, that he should have the air of an +idiot, as he plainly saw the effort she made not to laugh. But he was +forced to do something, so at last he gave her back the sacque. + +Then Angelique realised that if she were to open her mouth and try to +thank him, she would shout. Poor fellow! She sympathised with him and +pitied him. But it was irresistible; she was happy, and needed to give +expression to it; she must yield to the gaiety with which her heart +overflowed. It was such lovely weather, and all life was so beautiful! + +At last she thought she might speak, wishing simply to say: “Thank you, +Monsieur.” + +But the wish to laugh had returned, and made her stammer, interrupting +her at each word. It was a loud, cheery laugh, a sonorous outpouring of +pearly notes, which sang sweetly to the crystalline accompaniment of the +Chevrotte. + +The young man was so disconcerted that he could find nothing to say. His +usually pale face had become very red, the timid, childlike expression +of his eyes had changed into a fiery one, like that of an eagle, and he +moved away quickly. He disappeared with the old workman, and even then +she continued to laugh as she bent over the water, again splashing +herself as she shook the clothes hither and thither, rejoicing in the +brightness of the happy day. + +On the morrow he came an hour earlier. But at five o’clock in the +morning the linen, which had been dripping all night, was spread out on +the grass. There was a brisk wind, which was excellent for drying. But +in order that the different articles need not be blown away, they were +kept in place by putting little pebbles on their four corners. The whole +wash was there, looking of a dazzling whiteness among the green herbage, +having a strong odour of plants about it, and making the meadow as if it +had suddenly blossomed out into a snowy covering of daisies. + +When Angelique came to look at it after breakfast, she was distressed, +for so strong had become the gusts of wind that all threatened to be +carried away. Already a sheet had started, and several napkins had gone +to fasten themselves to the branches of a willow. She fortunately caught +them, but then the handkerchiefs began to fly. There was no one to help +her; she was so frightened that she lost all her presence of mind. When +she tried to spread out the sheet again, she had a regular battle, +for she was quite lost in it, as it covered her with a great crackling +sound. + +Through all the noise of the wind she heard a voice saying, +“Mademoiselle, do you wish me to help you?” + +It was he, and immediately she cried to him, with no other thought than +her pre-occupation as a good housewife: + +“Of course I wish it. Come and help me, then. Take the end over there, +nearest to you. Hold it firm!” + +The sheet, which they stretched out with their strong arms, flapped +backwards and forwards like a sail. At last they succeeded in putting it +on the ground, and then placed upon it much heavier stones than before. +And now that, quite conquered, it sank quietly down, neither of them +thought of leaving their places, but remained on their knees at the +opposite corners, separated by this great piece of pure white linen. + +She smiled, but this time without malice. It was a silent message of +thanks. He became by degrees a little bolder. + +“My name is Felicien.” + +“And mine is Angelique.” + +“I am a painter on glass, and have been charged to repair the +stained-glass window of the chapel here.” + +“I live over there with my father and mother, and I am an embroiderer of +church vestments.” + +The wind, which continued to be strong under the clear blue sky, carried +away their words, lashed them with its purifying breath in the midst of +the warm sunshine in which they were bathed. + +They spoke of things which they already knew, as if simply for the +pleasure of talking. + +“Is the window, then, to be replaced?” + +“No! oh no! it will be so well repaired that the new part cannot be +distinguished from the old. I love it quite as much as you do.” + +“Oh! it is indeed true that I love it! I have already embroidered a +Saint George, but it was not so beautiful as this one.” + +“Oh, not so beautiful! How can you say that? I have seen it, if it is +the Saint George on the chasuble which the Abbot Cornille wore last +Sunday. It is a marvellous thing.” + +She blushed with pleasure, but quickly turned the conversation, as she +exclaimed: + +“Hurry and put another stone on the left corner of the sheet, or the +wind will carry it away from us again.” + +He made all possible haste, weighed down the linen, which had been in +great commotion, like the wings of a great wounded bird trying its best +to fly away. Finding that this time it would probably keep its place, +the two young people rose up, and now Angelique went through the narrow, +green paths between the pieces of linen, glancing at each one, while +he followed her with an equally busy look, as if preoccupied by the +possible loss of a dish-towel or an apron. All this seemed quite natural +to them both. So she continued to chatter away freely and artlessly, as +she told of her daily life and explained her tastes. + +“For my part, I always wish that everything should be in its place. In +the morning I am always awakened at the same hour by the striking of +the cuckoo-clock in the workroom; and whether it is scarcely daylight or +not, I dress myself as quickly as possible; my shoes and stockings +are here, my soap and all articles of toilette there--a true mania for +order. Yet you may well believe that I was not born so! Oh no! On the +contrary, I was the most careless person possible. Mother was obliged to +repeat to me the same words over and over again, that I might not leave +my things in every corner of the house, for I found it easier to scatter +them about. And now, when I am at work from morning to evening, I can +never do anything right if my chair is not in the same place, directly +opposite the light, Fortunately, I am neither right nor left handed, but +can use both hands equally well at embroidering, which is a great help +to me, for it is not everyone who can do that. Then, I adore flowers, +but I cannot keep a bouquet near me without having a terrible headache. +Violets alone I can bear, and that is surprising. But their odour seems +to calm me, and at the least indisposition I have only need to smell +them and I am at once cured.” + +He was enraptured while listening to her prattle. He revelled in +the beautiful ring of her voice, which had an extremely penetrating, +prolonged charm; and he must have been peculiarly sensitive to this +human music, for the caressing inflection on certain words moistened his +eyelids. + +Suddenly returning to her household cares she exclaimed: + +“Oh, now the shirts will soon be dry!” + +Then, in the unconscious and simple need of making herself known, she +continued her confidences: + +“For colouring, the white is always beautiful, is it not? I tire at +times of blue, of red, and of all other shades; but white is a constant +joy, of which I am never weary. There is nothing in it to trouble you; +on the contrary, you would like to lose yourself in it. We had a white +cat, with yellow spots, which I painted white. It did very well for a +while, but it did not last long. Listen a minute. Mother does not know +it, but I keep all the waste bits of white silk, and have a drawer full +of them, for just nothing except the pleasure of looking at them, and +smoothing them over from time to time. And I have another secret, but +this is a very serious one! When I wake up, there is every morning near +my bed a great, white object, which gently flies away.” + +He did not smile, but appeared firmly to believe her. Was not all she +said, in her simple way, quite natural? A queen in the magnificence of +her courtly surroundings could not have conquered him so quickly. She +had, in the midst of this white linen on the green grass, a charming, +grand air, happy and supreme, which touched him to the heart, with an +ever-increasing power. He was completely subdued. She was everything to +him from this moment. He would follow her to the last day of his life, +in the worship of her light feet, her delicate hands, of her whole +being, adorable and perfect as a dream. She continued to walk before +him, with a short quick step, and he followed her closely, suffocated by +a thought of the happiness he scarcely dared hope might come to him. + +But another sudden gust of wind came up, and there was a perfect flight +into the distance of cambric collars and cuffs, of neckerchiefs and +chemisettes of muslin, which, as they disappeared, seemed like a flock +of white birds knocked about by the tempest. + +Angelique began to run. + +“Oh dear! What shall I do? You will have to come again and help me. Oh +dear!” + +They both rushed forward. She caught a kerchief on the borders of the +Chevrotte. He had already saved two chemisettes which he found in the +midst of some high thistles. One by one the cuffs and the collars were +retaken. But in the course of their running at full speed, the flying +folds of her skirt had at several different times brushed against +him, and each time his face became suddenly red, and his heart beat +violently. In his turn, he touched her face accidentally, as she jumped +to recover the last fichu, which he had carelessly let go of. She was +startled and stood quietly, but breathing more quickly. She joked +no longer; her laugh sounded less clear, and she was not tempted to +ridicule this great awkward, but most attractive fellow. The feminine +nature so recently awakened in her softened her almost to tears, and +with the feeling of inexplicable tenderness, which overpowered her, was +mingled a half-fear. + +What was the matter with her that she was less gay, and that she was so +overcome by this delicious pang? When he held out the kerchief to her, +their hands, by chance, touched for a moment. They trembled, as they +looked at each other inquiringly. Then she drew back quickly, and +for several seconds seemed not to know what she should do under the +extraordinary circumstances which had just occurred. At last she +started. Gathering up all the smaller articles of linen in her arms, and +leaving the rest, she turned towards her home. + +Felicien then wished to speak . . . “Oh, I beg your pardon. . . . I pray +you to----” + +But the wind, which had greatly increased, cut off his words. In despair +he looked at her as she flew along, as if carried away by the blast. She +ran and ran, in and out, among the white sheets and tablecloths, under +the oblique, pale golden rays of the sun. Already the shadow of the +Cathedral seemed to envelop her, and she was on the point of entering +her own garden by the little gate which separated it from the Clos, +without having once glanced behind her. But on the threshold she turned +quickly, as if seized with a kind impulse, not wishing that he should +think she was angry, and confused, but smiling, she called out: + +“Thank you. Thank you very much.” + +Did she wish to say that she was grateful to him for having helped her +in recovering the linen? Or was it for something else? She disappeared, +and the gate was shut after her. + +And he remained alone in the middle of the field, under the great +regular gusts, which continued to rage, although the sky was still clear +and pure. The elms in the Bishop’s garden rustled with a long, billowy +sound, and a loud voice seemed to clamour through the terraces and the +flying buttresses of the Cathedral. But he heard only the light flapping +of a little morning cap, tied to a branch of a lilac bush, as if it were +a bouquet, and which belonged to her. + +From that date, each time that Angelique opened her window she saw +Felicien over there in the Clos-Marie. He passed days in the field, +having the chapel window as an excuse for doing so, on which, however, +the work did not advance the least in the world. For hours he would +forget himself behind a cluster of bushes, where, stretched out on +the grass, he watched through the leaves. And it was the greatest of +pleasures to smile at each other every morning and evening. She was +so happy that she asked for nothing more. There would not be another +general washing for three months, so, until then, the little garden-gate +would seldom be open. But three months would pass very quickly, and +if they could see each other daily, was not that bliss enough? What, +indeed, could be more charming than to live in this way, thinking during +the day of the evening look, and during the night of the glance of the +early morrow? She existed only in the hope of that desired moment; its +joy filled her life. Moreover, what good would there be in approaching +each other and in talking together? Were they not constantly becoming +better acquainted without meeting? Although at a distance, they +understood each other perfectly; each penetrated into the other’s +innermost thoughts with the closest intimacy. At last, they became so +filled one with the other that they could not close their eyes without +seeing before them, with an astonishing clearness of detail, the image +of their new friend; so, in reality, they were never separated. + +It was a constant surprise to Angelique that she had unbosomed herself +at once to Felicien. At their first meeting she had confided in him, +had told him everything about her habits, her tastes, and the deepest +secrets of her heart. He, more silent, was called Felicien, and that was +all she knew. Perhaps it was quite right that it should be so; the woman +giving everything, and the man holding himself back as a stranger. She +had no premature curiosity. She continued to smile at the thought of +things which would certainly be realised. So for her, that of which she +was ignorant counted for nothing. The only important fact in her mind +was the intimacy between them, which united them, little by little, +apart from the world. She knew nothing about him, yet she was so well +acquainted with his nature that she could read his thoughts in a simple +look or smile. He, her hero, had come as she always said he would. She +had at once recognised him, and they loved each other. + +So they enjoyed most thoroughly this true possession from a distance. +They were certainly encouraged by the new discoveries they made. She had +long, slender hands, roughened a little at the ends of the fingers by +her constant use of the needle, but he adored them. She noticed that +his feet were small, and was proud of the fact. Everything about him +flattered her; she was grateful to him for being so handsome; and she +was overcome with joy the evening that she found his beard to be of a +lighter shade than his hair, which fact gave a greater softness to his +smile. He went away transported when, one morning, as she leaned over +the balcony, he saw a little red spot on her pretty neck. Their hearts +being thus laid open, new treasures were daily found. Certainly the +proud and frank manner in which she opened her window showed that, even +in her ignorance as a little embroiderer, she had the royal bearing of +a princess. In the same way she knew that he was good, from seeing +how lightly he walked over the herbs and the grass. Around them was a +radiance of virtues and graces from the first hour of their meeting. +Each interview had its special charm. It seemed to them as if their +felicity in seeing each other could never be exhausted. + +Nevertheless, Felicien soon showed certain signs of impatience, and he +no longer remained for hours concealed behind a bush in the immobility +of an absolute happiness. As soon as Angelique appeared at her window, +he was restless, and tried to approach her as he glided from willow to +willow. At length she was a little disturbed, fearing that someone might +see him. One day there was almost a quarrel, for he came even to the +wall of the house, so she was obliged to leave the balcony. It was a +great shock to him that she should be offended, and he showed in the +expression of his face so mute a prayer of submission that the next day +she pardoned him, and opened her window at the usual hour. + +But although expectation was delightful, it was not sufficient for him, +and he began again. Now he seemed to be everywhere at once: he filled +the Clos-Marie with his restlessness; he came out from behind every +tree; he appeared above every bunch of brambles. Like the wood-pigeons +of the great elms in the Bishop’s garden, he seemed to have his +habitation between two branches in the environs. The Chevrotte was an +excuse for his passing entire days there, on its willowy banks, bending +over the stream, in which he seemed to be watching the floating of the +clouds. + +One day she saw that he had climbed up on the ruins of the old mill, +and was standing on the framework of a shed, looking happy to have thus +approached her a little, in his regret at not being able to fly even so +far as her shoulder. + +Another day she stifled a slight scream as she saw him far above her, +leaning on an ornamented balustrade of the Cathedral, on the roof of the +chapels of the choir, which formed a terrace. In what way could he have +reached this gallery, the door of which was always fastened, and whose +key no one had a right to touch but the beadle? Then again, a little +later on, how was it that she should find him up in the air among the +flying buttresses of the nave and the pinnacles of the piers? From these +heights he could look into every part of her chamber, as the swallows +who, flying from point to point among the spires, saw everything that +was therein, without her having the idea of hiding herself from them. +But a human eye was different, and from that day she shut herself up +more, and an ever-increasing trouble came to her at the thought that her +privacy was being intruded upon, and that she was no longer alone in +the atmosphere of adoration that surrounded her. If she were really not +impatient, why was it that her heart beat so strongly, like the bell of +the clock-tower on great festivals? + +Three days passed without Angelique showing herself, so alarmed was she +by the increasing boldness of Felicien. She vowed in her mind that she +would never see him again, and wound herself up to such a degree of +resentment, that she thought she hated him. But he had given her his +feverishness. She could not keep still, and the slightest pretext was +enough for an excuse to leave the chasuble upon which she was at work. + +So, having heard that _mère_ Gabet was ill in bed, in the most profound +poverty, she went to see her every morning. Her room was on the Rue des +Orfèvres, only three doors away from the Huberts. She would take her +tea, sugar, and soup, then, when necessary, go to buy her medicine at +the druggist’s on the Grand Rue. One day, as she returned with her hands +full of the little phials, she started at seeing Felicien at the bedside +of the old sick woman. He turned very red, and slipped away awkwardly, +after leaving a charitable offering. The next day he came in as she was +leaving, and she gave him her place, very much displeased. Did he really +intend to prevent her from visiting the poor? + +In fact, she had been taken with one of her fits of charity, which made +her give all she owned that she might overwhelm those who had nothing. +At the idea of suffering, her whole soul melted into a pitiful +fraternity. She went often to the _père_ Mascart’s, a blind paralytic +on the Rue Basse, whom she was obliged to feed herself the broth she +carried him; then to the Chouteaux, a man and his wife, each one over +ninety years of age, who lived in a little hut on the Rue Magloire, +which she had furnished for them with articles taken from the attic of +her parents. Then there were others and others still whom she saw among +the wretched populace of the quarter, and whom she helped to support +from things that were about her, happy in being able to surprise them +and to see them brighten up for a little while. But now, strange to say, +wherever she went she encountered Felicien! Never before had she seen +so much of him; she who had avoided going to her window for fear that he +might be near. Her trouble increased, and at last she was very angry. + +But the worst of all in this matter was that Angelique soon despaired of +her charity. This young man spoilt all her pleasure of giving. In other +days he might perhaps have been equally generous, but it was not among +the same people, not her own particular poor, of that she was sure. And +he must have watched her and followed her very closely to know them all +and to take them so regularly one after the other. + +Now, go when she might with a little basket of provisions to the +Chouteaux, there was always money on the table. One day, when she +went to _père_ Mascart, who was constantly complaining that he had no +tobacco, she found him very rich, with a shining new louis d’or on his +table. Strangest of all, once when visiting _mère_ Gabet, the latter +gave her a hundred franc note to change, and with it she was enabled to +buy some high-priced medicines, of which the poor woman had long been +in need, but which she never hoped to obtain, for where could she find +money to pay for them? + +Angelique herself could not distribute much money, as she had none. It +was heart-breaking to her to realise her powerlessness, when he could so +easily empty his purse. She was, of course, happy that such a windfall +had come to the poor, but she felt as if she were greatly diminished +in her former self-estimation. She no longer had the same happiness in +giving, but was disturbed and sad that she had so little to distribute, +while he had so much. + +The young man, not understanding her feelings, thinking to conquer her +esteem by an increase of gifts, redoubled his charity, and thus daily +made hers seem less. + +Was not it exasperating to run against this fellow everywhere; to see +him give an ox wherever she offered an egg? In addition to all this, she +was obliged to hear his praises sung by all the needy whom he visited: +“a young man so good, so kind, and so well brought up.” She was a mere +nothing now. They talked only of him, spreading out his gifts as if to +shame hers. Notwithstanding her firm determination to forget him, she +could not refrain from questioning them about him. What had he left? +What had he said? He was very handsome, was he not? Tender and diffident +as a woman! Perhaps he might even have spoken of her! Ah, yes indeed! +That was true, for he always talked of her. Then she was very angry; +yes, she certainly hated him, for at last she realised that he weighed +on her breast too heavily. + +But matters could not continue in this way for ever, a change must take +place; and one May evening, at a wondrously beautiful nightfall, it +came. It was at the home of the Lemballeuse, the family who lived in +the ruins of the mill. There were only women there; the old grandmother, +seamed with wrinkles but still active, her daughter, and her +grandchildren. Of the latter, Tiennette, the elder, was a large, +wild-looking girl, twenty years of age, and her two little sisters, Rose +and Jeanne, had already bold, fearless eyes, under their unkempt mops +of red hair. They all begged during the day on the highway and along the +moat, coming back at night, their feet worn out from fatigue in their +old shoes fastened with bits of string. Indeed, that very evening +Tiennette had been obliged to leave hers among the stones, and had +returned wounded and with bleeding ankles. Seated before their door, in +the midst of the high grass of the Clos-Marie, she drew out the thorns +from her flesh, whilst her mother and the two children surrounded her +and uttered lamentations. + +Just then Angelique arrived, hiding under her apron the bread which she +had brought them, as she did once every week. She had entered the field +by the little garden-gate, which she had left open behind her, as she +intended to go back as quickly as possible. But she stopped on seeing +all the family in tears. + +“What is the matter? Why are you in such distress?” + +“Ah, my good lady!” whined the mother Lemballeuse, “do not you see in +what a terrible state this great foolish girl has put herself? To-morrow +she will not be able to walk, so that will be a whole day lost. She must +have some shoes!” + +Rose and Jeanne, with their eyes snapping from under their tangled hair, +redoubled their sobs, as they cried out loudly-- + +“Yes, yes! She must have some shoes! She must have some shoes!” + +Tiennette, half lifting up her thin, dark face, looked round furtively. +Then, fiercely, without a word, she made one of her feet bleed still +more, maddened over a long splinter which she had just drawn out by the +aid of a pin, and which must have pained her intensely. + +Angelique, quite touched by the scene, offered her the gift. + +“See! Here at least is some bread.” + +“Oh, bread!” said the mother. “No doubt it is necessary to eat. But +it is not with bread that she will be able to walk again, of that I am +certain! And we were to go to the fair at Bligny, a fair where, every +year, she makes at least two francs. Oh, good heavens! What will become +of us if she cannot go there?” + +Pity and embarrassment rendered Angelique mute. She had exactly five +sous in her pocket. It surely was not with five sous that one could buy +a pair of shoes, even at an auction sale. As it had often done before, +her want of money now paralysed her. And that which exasperated her +still more and made her lose her self-control was that at this moment, +as she looked behind her, she saw Felicien, standing a few feet from her +in the darkening shadow. Without doubt he had heard all that had been +said; perhaps even he had been there for a great while, for he always +appeared to her in this way when least expected without her ever knowing +whence he came or whither he was going. + +She thought to herself, “He will give the shoes.” + +Indeed, he had already come forward. The first stars were appearing in +the pale sky. A sweet, gentle quiet seemed to fall down from on high, +soothing to sleep the Clos-Marie, whose willows were lost in the dusk. +The Cathedral itself was only a great black bar in the West. + +“Yes, certainly, now he will offer to give the shoes.” + +And at this probability she was really quite discouraged. Was he always, +then, to give everything? Could she never, even once, conquer him? +Never! Her heart beat so rapidly that it pained her. She wished that she +might be very rich, to show him that she, too, could make others happy. + +But the Lemballeuse had seen the good gentleman. The mother had rushed +forward; the two little sisters moaned as they held out their hands for +alms, whilst the elder one, letting go of her wounded ankles, looked at +the new-comer inquiringly with her wild eyes. + +“Listen, my noisy children,” said Felicien. Then, addressing the mother, +he continued, “You may go to the Grand Rue, at the corner of the Rue +Basse--” + +Angelique had understood immediately, for the shoemaker had his shop +there. She interrupted him quickly, and was so agitated that she +stammered her words at random. + +“But that is a useless thing to do! What would be the good of it? It is +much more simple--” + +Yet she could not find in her own mind the more simple thing she +desired. What could she do? What could she invent, so to be before him +in giving her charity? Never had it seemed to her possible she could +detest him as she did now. + +“You will say from me, that it is I who have sent you,” continued +Felicien. “You will ask--” + +Again she interrupted him. The contest lasted a moment longer. She +repeated in an anxious way: + +“It is, indeed, much more simple; it is much easier--” + +Suddenly she was calm. She seated herself upon a stone, thoughtfully +examined her shoes, took them off, and then drew off her stockings, +saying: + +“Look! This is the best thing to do, after all! Why should you have any +trouble about the matter?” + +“Oh, my good young lady! God will reward you!” exclaimed the mother +Lemballeuse, as she turned over the shoes and found they were not only +excellent and strong, but almost new. “I will cut them a trifle on the +top, to make them a little larger--Tiennette, why do you not thank her, +stupid creature?” + +Tiennette snatched from the hands of Rose and Jeanne the stockings they +were coveting. She did not open her lips; she only gave one long, fixed, +hard look. + +But now Angelique realised that her feet were bare, and that Felicien +saw them. She blushed deeply, and knew not what to do. She dared not +move, for, were she to rise to get up, he would only see them all the +more. Then, frightened, she rose quickly, and without realising what she +was doing, began to run. In the grass her flying feet were very white +and small. The darkness of the evening had increased, and the Clos-Marie +was a lake of shadow between the great trees on one side and the +Cathedral on the other. And on the ground the only visible light came +from those same little feet, white and satiny as the wing of a dove. + +Startled and afraid of the water, Angelique followed the bank of the +Chevrotte, that she might cross it on a plank which served as a bridge. +But Felicien had gone a shorter way through the brambles and brushwood. +Until now he had always been overcome by his timidity, and he had turned +redder than she as he saw her bare feet, pure and chaste as herself. +Now, in the overflow of his ignorant youth, passionately fond of beauty +and desirous for love, he was impatient to cry out and tell her of the +feeling which had entirely taken possession of him since he had first +seen her. But yet, when she brushed by him in her flight, he could only +stammer, with a trembling voice, the acknowledgment so long delayed and +which burnt his lips: + +“I love you.” + +She stopped in surprise. For an instant she stood still, and, slightly +trembling, looked at him. Her anger and the hate she thought she had for +him all vanished at once, and melted into a most delicious sentiment +of astonishment. What had he said, what was the word he had just +pronounced, that she should be so overcome by it? She knew that he loved +her; yet when he said so, the sound of it in her ear overwhelmed her +with an inexplicable joy. It resounded so deeply through her whole +being, that her fears came back and were enlarged. She never would dare +reply to him; it was really more than she could bear; she was oppressed. + +He, grown more bold, his heart touched and drawn nearer to hers by their +united deeds of charity, repeated: + +“I love you.” + +And she, fearing the lover, began to run. That was surely the only way +to escape such a danger; yet it was also a happiness, it was all so +strange. The Chevrotte was gaily singing, and she plunged into it like a +startled fawn. Among its pebbles her feet still ran on, under the chill +of icy water. The garden-gate was at last reached, it closed, and she +disappeared. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +For two days Angelique was conscience-smitten. As soon as she was alone, +she sobbed as if she had done something wrong. And this question, which +she could not answer, came constantly to her mind: Had she sinned in +listening to this young man? Was she lost, like the dreadful women in +the Legend, who, having been tempted, had yielded to the Devil? Was life +to-day as it was centuries ago? The words, so softly uttered, “I love +you,” still resounded with such a tumult in her ears, and she was +confused, yet pleased by them to such a degree, that they must certainly +have come from some terrible power hidden in the depth of the invisible. +But she knew not--in fact, how could she have known anything in the +ignorance and solitude in which she had grown up? Her anguish was +redoubled by this mysterious and inexplicable struggle within her. + +Had she sinned in making the acquaintance of Felicien, and then in +keeping it a secret? She recalled to her mind, one by one, all the +details of her daily experience during the past few weeks; she argued +with her innocent scruples. + +What was sin, in short? Was it simply to meet--to talk--and afterwards +to tell a falsehood to one’s parents? But that could not be the extent +of the evil. Then why was she so oppressed? Why, if not guilty, did she +suddenly seem to have become quite another person--as agitated as if +a new soul had been given her? Perhaps it was sin that had made her +so weak and uncomfortable. Her heart was full of vague, undefined +longings--so strange a medley of words, and also of acts, in the future, +that she was frightened by them, without in the least understanding +them. The blood mounted to her face, and exquisitely coloured her +cheeks, as she heard again the sweet, yet appalling words, “I love you”; +and she reasoned no longer, but sobbed again, doubting evident facts, +fearing the commission of a fault in the beyond--in that which had +neither name nor form. + +But that which especially distressed her now was that she had not made a +_confidante_ of Hubertine. Could she only have asked her what she wished +to know, no doubt the latter with a word would have explained the whole +mystery to her. Then it seemed to her as if the mere fact of speaking to +someone of her trouble would have cured her. But the secret had become +too weighty; to reveal it would be more than she could bear, for the +shame would be too great. She became quite artful for the moment, +affected an air of calmness, when in the depths of her soul a tempest +was raging. If asked why she was so pre-occupied, she lifted her +eyes with a look of surprise as she replied that she was thinking of +something. Seated before the working-frame, her hands mechanically +drawing the needle back and forth, very quiet to all outward appearance, +she was, from morning till evening, distracted by one thought. To be +loved! To be loved! And for herself, on her side, was she in love? This +was still an obscure question, to which, in her inexperience, she found +no answer. She repeated it so constantly that at last it made her giddy, +the words lost all their usual meaning, and everything seemed to be in a +whirl, which carried her away. With an effort she recovered herself, and +realised that, with needle in hand, she was still embroidering with her +accustomed application, although mechanically, as if in a half-dream. +Perhaps these strange symptoms were a sign that she was about to have a +severe illness. One evening she had such an attack of shivering when she +went to bed that she thought she would never be able to recover from it. +That idea was at the same time both cruel and sweet. She suffered from +it as if it were too great a joy. Even the next day her heart beat as if +it would break, and her ears were filled with a singing sound, like the +ringing of a distant bell. What could it mean? Was she in love, or was +she about to die? Thinking thus, she smiled sweetly at Hubertine, who, +in the act of waxing her thread, was looking at her anxiously. + +Moreover, Angelique had made a vow that she would never again see +Felicien. She no longer ran the risk of meeting him among the brambles +and wild grasses in the Clos-Marie, and she had even given up her +daily visits to the poor. Her fear was intense lest, were they to find +themselves face to face, something terrible might come to pass. In her +resolution there was mingled, besides a feeling of penitence, a wish to +punish herself for some fault she might unintentionally have committed. +So, in her days of rigid humiliation, she condemned herself not even to +glance once through the window, so sure was she of seeing on the banks +of the Chevrotte the one whom she dreaded. But, after a while, being +sorely tempted, she looked out, and if it chanced that he were not +there, she was sad and low-spirited until the following day. + +One morning, when Hubert was arranging a dalmatic, a ring at the +door-bell obliged him to go downstairs. It must be a customer; no doubt +an order for some article, as Hubertine and Angelique heard the hum of +voices which came through the doorway at the head of the stairs, which +remained open. Then they looked up in great astonishment; for steps +were mounting, and the embroiderer was bringing someone with him to +the workroom, a most unusual occurrence. And the young girl was quite +overcome as she recognised Felicien. He was dressed simply, like a +journeyman artist, whose hands are white. Since she no longer went to +him he had come to her, after days of vain expectation and of anxious +uncertainty, during which he had constantly said to himself that she did +not yet love him, since she remained hidden from him. + +“Look, my dear child, here is something which will be of particular +interest to you,” explained Hubert. “Monsieur wishes to give orders for +an exceptional piece of work. And, upon my word, that we might talk of +it at our ease, I preferred that he should come up here at once. This is +my daughter, sir, to whom you must show your drawing.” + +Neither he nor Hubertine had the slightest suspicion that this was not +the first time the young people had met. They approached them only +from a sentiment of curiosity to see. But Felicien was, like Angelique, +almost stifled with emotion and timidity. As he unrolled the design, +his hands trembled, and he was obliged to speak very slowly to hide the +change in his voice. + +“It is to be a mitre for Monseigneur the Bishop. Yes, certain ladies in +the city who wished to make him this present charged me with the drawing +of the different parts, as well as with the superintendence of its +execution. I am a painter of stained glass, but I also occupy myself +a great deal with ancient art. You will see that I have simply +reconstituted a Gothic mitre.” + +Angelique bent over the great sheet of parchment which he had spread +before her, and started slightly as she exclaimed: + +“Oh! it is Saint Agnes.” + +It was indeed the youthful martyr of but thirteen years of age; the +naked virgin clothed with her hair, that had grown so long only her +little hands and feet were seen from under it, just as she was upon the +pillar at one of the doors of the cathedral; particularly, however, as +one found her in the interior of the church, in an old wooden statue +that formerly was painted, but was to-day a light fawn colour, all +gilded by age. She occupied the entire front of the mitre, half +floating, as she was carried towards heaven borne by the angels; +which below her, stretched out into the distance, was a fine delicate +landscape. The other sides and the lappets were enriched with +lance-shaped ornaments of an exquisite style. + +“These ladies,” continued Felicien, “wish to make the present on the +occasion of the Procession of the Miracle, and naturally I thought it my +duty to choose Saint Agnes.” + +“The idea was a most excellent one,” interposed Hubert. + +And Hubertine added, in her turn: + +“Monseigneur will be deeply gratified.” + +The so-called Procession of the Miracle, which takes place each year on +July 28, dates from the time of Jean V. d’Hautecœur, who instituted it +as a thanksgiving to God for the miraculous power He had given to him +and to his race to save Beaumont from the plague. According to the +legend, the Hautecœurs are indebted for this remarkable gift to the +intervention of Saint Agnes, of whom they were the greatest admirers; +and since the most ancient time, it has been the custom on the +anniversary of her fête to take down the old statue of the saint and +carry it slowly in a solemn procession through the streets of the town, +in the pious belief that she still continues to disperse and drive away +all evils. + +“Ah,” at last murmured Angelique, her eyes on the design, “the +Procession of the Miracle. But that will come in a few days, and we +shall not have time enough to finish it.” + +The Huberts shook their heads. In truth, so delicate a piece of work +required the most minute care and attention. Yet Hubertine turned +towards her daughter as she said: + +“I could help you, my dear. I might attend to the ornaments, and then +you will only have the figure to do.” + +Angelique continued to closely examine the figure of the saint, and was +deeply troubled. She said to herself, “No, no.” She refused; she would +not give herself the pleasure of accepting. It would be inexcusable on +her part thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was evident that +Felicien was keeping something back. She was perfectly sure that he was +not poor, and that he wore a workman’s dress simply as a disguise; and +this affected simplicity, all this history, told only that he might +approach her, put her on her guard, amused and happy though she was, +in reality, transfiguring him, seeing in him the royal prince that he +should be; so thoroughly did she live in the absolute certainty of the +entire realisation of her dream, sooner or later. + +“No,” she repeated in a half-whisper, “we should not have the needed +time.” + +And without lifting her eyes she continued, as if speaking to herself: + +“For the saint, we could use neither the close embroidery nor the lace +openwork. It would not be worthy of her. It should be an embroidery in +gold, shaded by silk.” + +“Exactly,” said Felicien. “That is what I had already thought of, for +I knew that Mademoiselle had re-found the secret of making it. There is +still quite a pretty little fragment of it at the sacristy.” + +Hubert was quite excited. + +“Yes, yes! it was made in the fifteenth century, and the work was done +by one of my far-off ancestresses. . . . Shaded gold! Ah, Monsieur, +there was never anything equal to that in the whole world. But, +unfortunately, it took too much time, it cost altogether too dear, and, +in addition, only a real artist ever succeeded in it. Think of it; it +is more than two hundred years since anyone has ever attempted such +embroidery. And if my daughter refuses, you will be obliged to give it +up entirely, for she is the only person who is qualified to undertake +it. I do not know of anyone else who has the delicacy of fingers and the +clearness of eye necessary for it.” + +Hubertine, who, since they had spoken of the style of the work, realised +what a great undertaking it was, said, in a quiet, decided tone: + +“It would be utterly impossible to do it in a fortnight. It would need +the patience and skill of a fairy to accomplish it.” + +But Angelique, who had not ceased studying all the features of the +beautiful martyr, had ended by making a discovery which delighted +her beyond expression. Agnes resembled her. In designing from the old +statue, Felicien certainly thought of her, and this idea--that she +was in his mind, always present with him, that he saw her +everywhere--softened her resolution to avoid him. At last she looked up; +she noticed how eager he was, and his eyes glistened with so earnest +a supplication that she was conquered. Still, with the intuitive +half-malice, the love of tormenting, this natural science which comes to +all young girls, even when they are entirely ignorant of life, she did +not wish to have the appearance of yielding too readily. + +“It is impossible,” she repeated. “I could not do it for anyone.” + +Felicien was in despair. He was sure he understood the hidden meaning +in her words. It was he whom she had refused, as well as the work. As he +was about to go out of the room, he said to Hubert: + +“As for the pay, you could have asked any price you wished. These ladies +gave me leave to offer as much as three thousand francs.” + +The household of the Huberts was in no way a selfish one; yet so great +a sum startled each member of it. The husband and wife looked at each +other inquiringly. Was it not a pity to lose so advantageous an offer? + +“Three thousand francs,” repeated Angelique, with her gentle voice; “did +you say three thousand francs, Monsieur?” + +And she, to whom money was nothing, since she had never known its value, +kept back a smile, a mocking smile, which scarcely drew the corners of +her mouth, rejoicing that she need not seem to yield to the pleasure of +seeing him, and glad to give him a false opinion of herself. + +“Oh, Monsieur, if you can give three thousand francs for it, then I +accept. I would not do it for everyone, but from the moment that one is +willing to pay so well, why, that is different. If it is necessary, I +can work on it at night, as well as during the day.” + +Hubert and Hubertine then objected, wishing to refuse in their turn, for +fear the fatigue might be too great for her. + +“No,” she replied. “It is never wise to send away money that is brought +to you. You can depend upon me, Monsieur. Your mitre will be ready the +evening before the procession.” + +Felicien left the design and bade them good-day, for he was greatly +disappointed, and he had no longer the courage to give any new +explanations in regard to the work, as an excuse for stopping longer. +What would he gain by doing so? It was certainly true that she did not +like him, for she had pretended not to recognise him, and had treated +him as she would any ordinary customer, whose money alone is good to +take. At first he was angry, as he accused her of being mean-spirited +and grasping. So much the better! It was ended between them, this +unspoken romance, and he would never think of her again. Then, as +he always did think of her, he at last excused her, for was she not +dependent upon her work to live, and ought she not to gain her bread? + +Two days later he was very unhappy, and he began to wander around the +house, distressed that he could not see her. She no longer went out to +walk. She did not even go to the balcony, or to the window, as before. +He was forced to acknowledge that if she cared not for him, if in +reality she was mercenary, in spite of all, his love for her increased +daily, as one loves when only twenty years of age, without reasoning, +following merely the drawing of one’s heart, simply for the joy and the +grief of loving. + +One morning he caught a glimpse of her for a moment, and realised that +he could not give her up. Now she was his chosen one and no other. +Whatever she might be, bad or good, ugly or pretty, poor or rich, he +would give up his life rather than not be able to claim her. + +The third day his sufferings were so great that, notwithstanding all his +wise resolves, he returned to the house of the embroiderers. + +After having rung the bell, he was received as before, downstairs by +Hubert, who, on account of the want of clearness in his explanations in +regard to his visit, concluded the best thing to be done was to allow +him to go upstairs again. + +“My daughter, Monsieur, wishes to speak to you on certain points of the +work that I do not quite understand.” + +Then Felicien stammered, “If it would not disturb Mademoiselle too +much, I would like to see how far--These ladies advised me to personally +superintend the work--that is, if by doing so I should not be in +anyone’s way.” + +Angelique’s heart beat violently when she saw him come in. She almost +choked, but, making a great effort, she controlled herself. The +blood did not even mount her cheeks, and with an appearance of calm +indifference, she replied: + +“Oh, nothing ever disturbs me, Monsieur. I can work equally well before +anyone. As the design is yours, it is quite natural that you should wish +to follow the execution of it.” + +Quite discountenanced by this reception, Felicien would not have dared +to have taken a seat, had not Hubertine welcomed him cordially, as +she smiled in her sweet, quiet way at this excellent customer. Almost +immediately she resumed her work, bending over the frame where she was +embroidering on the sides of the mitre the Gothic ornaments in guipure, +or open lacework. + +On his side, Hubert had just taken down from the wall a banner which was +finished, had been stiffened, and for two days past had been hung up to +dry, and which now he wished to relax. No one spoke; the three workers +kept at their tasks as if no other person had been in the room with +them. + +In the midst of this charming quiet, the young man little by little grew +calmer. When the clock struck three, the shadow of the Cathedral was +already very long, and a delicate half-light entered by the window, +which was wide open. It was almost like the twilight hour, which +commenced early in the afternoon for this little house, so fresh and +green from all the verdure that was about it, as it stood by the side of +the colossal church. A slight sound of steps was heard on the pavement +outside; it was a school of young girls being taken to Confession. + +In the workroom, the tools, the time-stained walls, everything +which remained there immovable, seemed to sleep in the repose of the +centuries, and from every corner came freshness and rest. A great +square of white light, smooth and pure, fell upon the frame over which +Hubertine and Angelique were bending, with their delicate profiles in +the fawn-coloured reflection of the gold. + +“Mademoiselle,” began Felicien, feeling very awkward, as he realised +that he must give some reason for his visit--“I wish to say, +Mademoiselle, that for the hair it seems to me it would be better to +employ gold rather than silk.” + +She raised her head, and the laughing expression of her eyes clearly +signified that he need not have taken the trouble of coming if he had no +other recommendation to make. And she looked down again as she replied, +in a half-mocking tone: + +“There is no doubt about that, Monsieur.” + +He was indeed ridiculous, for he remarked then for the first time that +it was exactly what she was doing. Before her was the design he had +made, but tinted with water-colours, touched up with gold, with all the +delicacy of an old miniature, a little softened, like what one sees in +some prayer books of the fifteenth century. And she copied this image +with the patience and the skill of an artist working with a magnifying +glass. After having reproduced it with rather heavy strokes upon the +white silk, tightly stretched and lined with heavy linen, she covered +this silk with threads of gold carried from the bottom to the top, +fastened simply at the two ends, so that they were left free and close +to each other. When using the same threads as a woof, she separated them +with the point of her needle to find the design below. She followed this +same drawing, recovered the gold threads with stitches of silk across, +which she assorted according to the colours of the model. In the shaded +parts the silk completely hid the gold; in the half-lights the stitches +of silk were farther and farther apart, while the real lights were made +by gold alone, entirely uncovered. It was thus the shaded gold, that +most beautiful of all work, the foundation being modified by the silks, +making a picture of mellow colours as if warmed from beneath by a glory +and a mystic light. + +“Oh!” suddenly said Hubert, who began to stretch out the banner by +separating with his fingers the cords of the trellis, “the masterpiece +of a woman who embroidered in the olden time was always in this +difficult work. To become a member of the Corporation she had to make, +as it is written in the statutes, a figure by itself in shaded gold, +a sixth part as tall as if life-size. You would have been received, my +Angelique.” + +Again there was an unbroken silence. Felicien watched her constantly, as +she stooped forward, absorbed in her task, quite as if she were entirely +alone. For the hair of the saint, contrary to the general rule, she had +had the same idea as he; that was, to use no silk, but to re-cover gold +with gold, and she kept ten needles at work with this brilliant thread +of all shades, from the dark red of dying embers, to the pale, delicate +yellow tint of the leaves of the forest trees in the autumn. Agnes was +thus covered from her neck to her ankles with a stream of golden hair. +It began at the back of her head, covered her body with a thick mantle, +flowed in front of her from the shoulders in two waves which united +under the chin, and fell down to her feet in one wavy sheet. It was, +indeed, the miraculous hair, a fabulous fleece, with heavy twists and +curls, a glorious, starry efflorescence, the warm and living robe of a +saint, perfumed with its pure nudity. + +That day Felicien could do nothing but watch Angelique as she +embroidered the curls, following the exact direction of their rolling +with her little pointed stitches, and he never wearied of seeing the +hair grow and radiate under her magic needle. Its weight, and the great +quivering with which it seemed to be unrolled at one turn, disturbed +him. + +Hubertine, occupied in sewing on spangles, hiding the thread with which +each one was attached with a tiny round of gold twist, lifted up her +head from time to time and gave him a calm motherly look, whenever she +was obliged to throw into the waste-basket a spangle that was not well +made. + +Hubert, who had just taken away the side pieces of wood, that he might +unstitch the banner from the frame, was about folding it up carefully. +And at last, Felicien, whose embarrassment was greatly increased by this +unbroken silence, realised that it was best for him to take leave, since +as yet he had not been able to think of any of the suggestions which he +had said he intended to make. + +He rose, blushed, and stammered: + +“I will return another day. I find that I have so badly succeeded in +reproducing the charming design of the head of the saint that you may +perhaps have need of some explanations from me.” + +Angelique looked him fully in the face with her sweet, great eyes. + +“Oh, not at all. But come again, Monsieur. Do not hesitate to do so, if +you are in the least anxious about the execution of the work.” + +He went away, happy from the permission given him, but chilled by the +coldness of manner of the young girl. Yes, he realised that she did not +now, and never would, love him. That being the case, what use was there +in seeing her? Yet on the morrow, as well as on the following days, +he did not fail to go to the little house on the Rue des Orfèvres. The +hours which he could not pass there were sad enough, tortured as he was +by his uncertainties, distressed by his mental struggles. He was never +calm, except when he was near her as she sat at her frame. Provided that +she was by his side, it seemed to him that he could resign himself to +the acceptance of the fact that he was disagreeable to her. + +Every morning he arrived at an early hour, spoke of the work, then +seated himself as if his presence there were absolutely necessary. Then +he was in a state of enchantment simply to look at her, with her finely +cut features, her motionless profile, which seemed bathed in the liquid +golden tints of her hair; and he watched in ecstasy the skilful play of +her flexible hands, as she moved them up and down in the midst of the +needlefuls of gold or silk. She had become so habituated to his +presence that she was quite at her ease, and treated him as a comrade. +Nevertheless, he always felt that there was between them something +unexpressed which grieved him to the heart, he knew not why. +Occasionally she looked up, regarding him with an amused, half-mocking +air, and with an inquiring, impatient expression in her face. Then, +finding he was intensely embarrassed she at once became very cold and +distant. + +But Felicien had discovered one way in which he could rouse her, and +he took advantage of it. It was this--to talk to her of her art, of the +ancient masterpieces of embroidery he had seen, either preserved among +the treasures of cathedrals, or copies of which were engraved in books. +For instance, there were the superb copes: that of Charlemagne, in red +silk, with the great eagles with unfurled wings; and the cope of +Sion, which is decorated with a multitude of saintly figures. Then the +dalmatic, which is said to be the most beautiful piece of embroidery in +the whole world; the Imperial dalmatic, on which is celebrated the glory +of Jesus Christ upon the earth and in heaven, the Transfiguration, and +the Last Judgment, in which the different personages are embroidered +in silks of various colours, and in silver and gold. Also, there is +a wonderful tree of Jesse, an orfrey of silk upon satin, which is so +perfect it seems as if it were detached from a window of the fifteenth +century; Abraham at the foot, then David, Solomon, the Blessed Virgin +Mary, and at the very top the Saviour. + +Among the admirable chasubles he had seen, one in particular was +touching in its simplicity. It represented Christ on the Cross, and the +drops of blood from His side and His feet were made by little splashes +of red silk on the cloth of gold, while in the foreground was Mary, +tenderly supported by Saint John. + +On another one, which is called the chasuble of Naintre, the Virgin is +seated in majesty, with richly-wrought sandals on her feet, and holding +the Infant Jesus on her knees. Others, and still others of marvelous +workmanship were alluded to, venerable not only from their great age and +the beautiful faith that they expressed, but from a richness unknown +in our time, preserving the odour of the incense of tabernacles and the +mystic light which seemed to come from the slightly-faded gold. + +“Ah,” sighed Angelique, “all those exquisite things are finished now. We +can only find certain tones to remind us of their perfection.” + +With feverish hands and sparkling eyes she stopped working when Felicien +related to her the history of the most noted men and women who were +embroiderers in the olden time--Simonne de Gaules, Colin Jolye, and +others whose names have come down to us through the ages. Then, after +a few moments, she took up her needles again, and made them fly +vigorously, as she appeared transfigured, and guarded on her face the +traces of the delight her artist nature had received in listening to +all these accounts. Never had she seemed to him more beautiful, so +enthusiastic was she, so maidenly and so pure, seated there in the +brighter surroundings of so many coloured silks, applying herself with +unfailing exactitude to her work, into the slightest details of which +she put her whole soul. When he had left off speaking he looked at her +earnestly, until roused by the silence, she realised the excited state +into which all these histories had thrown her, and became as embarrassed +as if she had done something wrong. + +“Oh, dear, look; all my silks are entangled again! Mother, please not to +move about so much.” + +Hubertine, who had not stirred at all, was amused, but simply smiled +without saying anything. At first she had been rather disturbed by the +constant attentions of the young man, and had talked the matter over +thoroughly with Hubert one evening in their room. But they could not +help being drawn towards him, and as in every respect his appearance +was good and his manners perfectly respectful, they concluded it was not +necessary to object to interviews from which Angelique derived so much +happiness. So matters were allowed to take their way, and she watched +over the young people with a loving air of protection. + +Moreover, she herself for many days had been oppressed by the lamenting +caresses of her husband, who seemed never to weary of asking her if he +had been forgiven. This month was the anniversary of the time when +they had lost their child, and each year at this date they had the +same regrets and the same longings; he, trembling at her feet, happy +to realise that he was pardoned; she, loving and distressed, blaming +herself for everything, and despairing that Fate had been inexorable to +all their prayers. They spoke of all this to no one, were the same to +outsiders in every way, but this increase of tenderness between them +came from their room like a silent perfume, disengaged itself from their +persons at the least movement, by each word, and by their way of looking +at each other, when it seemed as if for the moment they almost exchanged +souls. All this was like the grave accompaniment, the deep continuous +bass, upon which sang in clear notes the two hearts of the young couple. + +One week had passed, and the work on the mitre advanced. These daily +meetings had assumed a great and sweet familiarity. + +“The forehead should be very high, should it not? Without any trace of +eyebrows?” + +“Yes, very high, and not the slightest shade. Quite like an old +miniature.” + +“Will you pass me the white silk?” + +“Wait a minute, that I may thread it.” + +He helped her, and this union of work put them at their ease. It made +the occupation of each day seem perfectly natural to them both, and +without a word of love ever having been spoken, without their hands +having once met by a voluntary touch, the bond between them grew +stronger each hour, and they were henceforth eternally united one to the +other. It was sufficient for them to have lived until now. + +“Father, what are you doing that we no longer hear you?” + +She turned and saw Hubert, who was occupied in winding a long spool, as +his eyes were fixed abstractedly on his wife. + +“I am preparing some gold thread for your mother.” + +And from the reel taken to his wife, from the mute thanks of Hubertine, +from the constant little attentions her husband gave her, there was +a warm, caressing breath which surrounded and enveloped Angelique and +Felicien as they both bent again over the frame. The workroom itself, +this ancient hall, as it might almost be called, with its old tools and +its peace of other ages, was an unconscious accomplice in this work of +union. It seemed so far away from the noise of the street, remote as if +in dreamy depths, in this country of good, simple souls, where miracles +reign, the easy realisation of all joys. + +In five days the mitre was to be finished; and Angelique, now sure +that it would be ready to be delivered, and that she would even have +twenty-four hours to spare, took a long breath of satisfaction, and +seemed suddenly astonished at finding Felicien so near her, with his +elbows on the trestle. Had they really become such intimate friends? +She no longer attempted to struggle against what she realised was his +conquering power; her half-malicious smiles ceased at what he tried +to keep back, and which she so well understood, in spite of his +subterfuges. What was it, then, that had made her as if asleep, in her +late restless waiting? And the eternal question returned, the question +that she asked herself every evening when she went to her room. Did she +love him? For hours, in the middle of her great bed, she had turned over +again and again these words, seeking for meanings she could not find, +and thinking she was too ignorant to explain them. But that night, all +at once, she felt her heart was softened by some inexplicable happiness. +She cried nervously, without reason, and hid her head in her pillow that +no one might hear her. + +Yes, now she loved him; she loved him enough to be willing to die for +him. But why? But how? She could not tell, she never would know; simply +from her whole heart came the cry that she did indeed love him. The +light had come to her at last; this new, overpowering joy overwhelmed +her like the most ardent rays of the sun. + +For a long time her tears flowed, but not from sorrow. On the contrary, +she was filled with an inexplicable confusion of happiness that was +indefinable, regretting now, more deeply than ever, that she had not +made a _confidante_ of Hubertine. To-day her secret burdened her, and +she made an earnest vow to herself that henceforth she would be as cold +as an icicle towards Felicien, and would suffer everything rather than +allow him to see her tenderness. He should never know it. To love +him, merely to love him, without even acknowledging it, that was the +punishment, the trial she must undergo to pardon her fault. It would be +to her in reality a delicious suffering. She thought of the martyrs of +whom she had read in the “Golden Legend,” and it seemed to her that she +was their sister in torturing herself in this way, and that her guardian +angel, Agnes, would look at her henceforward with sadder, sweeter eyes +than ever. + +The following day Angelique finished the mitre. She had embroidered with +split silk, light as gossamer, the little hands and feet, which were the +only points of white, naked flesh that came out from the royal mantle of +golden hair. She perfected the face with all the delicacy of the purest +lily, wherein the gold seemed like the blood in the veins under the +delicate, silken skin. And this face, radiant as the sun, was turned +heavenward, as the youthful saint was borne upward by the angels toward +the distant horizon of the blue plain. + +When Felicien entered that day, he exclaimed with admiration: + +“Oh! how exactly she looks like you.” + +It was an involuntary expression; an acknowledgment of the resemblance +he had purposely put in the design. He realised the fact after he had +spoken, and blushed deeply. + +“That is indeed true, my little one; she has the same beautiful eyes +that you have,” said Hubert, who had come forward to examine the work. + +Hubertine merely smiled now, having made a similar remark many days +before, and she was surprised and grieved when she heard Angelique reply +in a harsh, disagreeable tone of voice, like that she sometimes had in +her fits of obstinacy years ago: + +“My beautiful eyes! Why will you make fun of me in that way? I know as +well as you do that I am very ugly.” + +Then, getting up, she shook out her dress, overacting her assumed +character of a harsh, avaricious girl. + +“Ah, at last! It is really finished! I am thankful, for it was too much +of a task, too heavy a burden on my shoulders. Do you know, I would +never undertake to make another one for the same price?” + +Felicien listened to her in amazement. Could it be that after all she +still cared only for money? Had he been mistaken when he thought at +times she was so exquisitely tender, and so passionately devoted to her +artistic work? Did she in reality wish for the pay her labour brought +her? And was she so indifferent that she rejoiced at the completion of +her task, wishing neither to see nor to hear of it again? For several +days he had been discouraged as he sought in vain for some pretext of +continuing, later on, visits that gave him such pleasure. But, alas! it +was plain that she did not care for him in the least, and that she never +would love him. His suffering was so great that he grew very pale and +could scarcely speak. + +“But, Mademoiselle, will you not make up the mitre?” + +“No, mother can do it so much better than I can. I am too happy at the +thought that I have nothing more to do with it.” + +“But do you not like the work which you do so well?” + +“I? I do not like anything in the world.” + +Hubertine was obliged to speak to her sternly, and tell her to be quiet. +She then begged Felicien to be so good as to pardon her nervous child, +who was a little weary from her long-continued application. She +added that the mitre would be at his disposal at an early hour on the +following morning. It was the same as if she had asked him to go away, +but he could not leave. He stood and looked around him in this old +workroom, filled with shade and with peace, and it seemed to him as if +he were being driven from Paradise. He had spent so many sweet hours +there in the illusion of his brightest fancies, that it was like tearing +his very heart-strings to think all this was at an end. What troubled +him the worst was his inability to explain matters, and that he could +only take with him such a fearful uncertainty. At last he said good-day, +resolved to risk everything at the first opportunity rather than not to +know the truth. + +Scarcely had he closed the door when Hubert asked: + +“What is the matter with you, my dear child? Are you ill?” + +“No, indeed. It is simply that I am tired of having that young man here. +I do not wish to see him again.” + +Then Hubertine added: “Very well; you will not see him again. But +nothing should ever prevent one from being polite.” + +Angelique, making some trivial excuse, hurried up to her room as quickly +as possible. Then she gave free course to her tears. Ah, how intensely +happy she was, yet how she suffered! Her poor, dear beloved; he was sad +enough when he found he must leave her! But she must not forget that she +had made a vow to the saints, that although she loved him better than +life, he should never know it. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +On the evening of this same day, immediately after leaving the +dinner-table, Angelique complained of not being at all well, and went +up at once to her room. The agitation and excitement of the morning, her +struggles against her true self, had quite exhausted her. She made haste +to go to bed, and covering her head with the sheet, with a desperate +feeling of disappearing for ever if she could, again the tears came to +her relief. + +The hours passed slowly, and soon it was night--a warm July night, the +heavy, oppressive quiet of which entered through the window, which had +been left wide open. In the dark heavens glistened a multitude of stars. +It must have been nearly eleven o’clock, and the moon, already grown +quite thin in its last quarter, would not rise until midnight. + +And in the obscure chamber, Angelique still wept nervously a flow of +inexhaustible tears, seemingly without reason, when a slight noise at +her door caused her to lift up her head. + +There was a short silence, when a voice called her tenderly. + +“Angelique! Angelique! My darling child!” + +She recognised the voice of Hubertine. Without doubt the latter, in her +room with her husband, had just heard the distant sound of sobbing, and +anxious, half-undressed, she had come upstairs to find out what was the +matter with her daughter. + +“Angelique, are you ill, my dear?” + +Retaining her breath, the young girl made no answer. She did not wish to +be unkind, but her one absorbing idea at this moment was of solitude. +To be alone was the only possible alleviation of her trouble. A word of +consolation, a caress, even from her mother, would have distressed her. +She imagined that she saw her standing at the other side of the door, +and from the delicacy of the rustling movement on the tiled floor she +thought she must be barefooted. Two or three minutes passed, and she +knew the kind watcher had not left her place, but that, stooping, and +holding with her beautiful hands the clothing so carelessly thrown over +her, she still listened at the keyhole. + +Hubertine, hearing nothing more, not even a sigh, did not like to call +again. She was very sure that she had heard sobs; but if the child had +at last been able to sleep, what good would it do to awaken her? She +waited, however, another moment, troubled by the thought of a grief +which her daughter hid from her, confusedly imagining what it might +be from the tender emotion with which her heart seemed filled from +sympathy. At last she concluded to go down as she had come up, quietly, +her hands being so familiar with every turning that she needed no +candle, and leaving behind her no other sound than the soft, light touch +of her bare feet. + +Then, sitting up in bed, Angelique in her turn listened. So profound +was the outward silence that she could clearly distinguish the slight +pressure of the heel on the edge of each step of the stairway. At the +foot, the door of the chamber was opened, then closed again; afterward, +she heard a scarcely-distinct murmur, an affectionate, yet sad blending +of voices in a half-whisper. No doubt it was what her father and mother +were saying of her; the fears and the hopes they had in regard to her. +For a long time that continued, although they must have put out their +light and gone to bed. + +Never before had any night sounds in this old house mounted in this way +to her ears. Ordinarily, she slept the heavy, tranquil sleep of youth; +she heard nothing whatever after placing her head upon her pillow; +whilst now, in the wakefulness caused by the inner combat against an +almost overpowering sentiment of affection which she was determined to +conquer, it seemed to her as if the whole house were in unison with +her, that it was also in love, and mourned like herself. Were not the +Huberts, too, sad, as they stilled their tears and thought of the child +they had lost long ago, whose place, alas! had never been filled? She +knew nothing of this in reality, but she had a sensation in this warm +night of the watch of her parents below her, and of the disappointment +in their lives, which they could not forget, notwithstanding their great +love for each other, which was always as fresh as when they were young. + +Whilst she was seated in this way, listening in the house that trembled +and sighed, Angelique lost all self-control, and again the tears rolled +down her face, silently, but warm and living, as if they were her life’s +blood. One question above all others had troubled her since the early +morning, and had grieved her deeply. Was she right in having sent away +Felicien in despair, stabbed to the heart by her coldness, and with the +thought that she did not love him? She knew that she did love him, yet +she had willingly caused him to suffer, and now in her turn she was +suffering intensely. Why should there be so much pain connected with +love? Did the saints wish for tears? Could it be that Agnes, her +guardian angel, was angry in the knowledge that she was happy? Now, for +the first time, she was distracted by a doubt. Before this, whenever she +thought of the hero she awaited, and who must come sooner or later, she +had arranged everything much more satisfactorily. When the right time +arrived he was to enter her very room, where she would immediately +recognise and welcome him, when they would both go away together, to +be united for evermore. But how different was the reality! He had +come, and, instead of what she had foreseen, their meeting was most +unsatisfactory; they were equally unhappy, and were eternally separated. +To what purpose? Why had this result come to pass? Who had exacted from +her so strange a vow, that, although he might be very dear to her, she +was never to let him know it? + +But, yet again, Angelique was especially grieved from the fear that she +might have been bad and done some very wrong thing. Perhaps the original +sin that was in her had manifested itself again as when she was a little +girl! She thought over all her acts of pretended indifference: the +mocking air with which she had received Felicien, and the malicious +pleasure she took in giving him a false idea of herself. And the +astonishment at what she had done, added to a cutting remorse for her +cruelty, increased her distress. Now, her whole heart was filled with a +deep infinite pity for the suffering she had caused him without really +meaning to do so. + +She saw him constantly before her, as he was when he left the house in +the morning: the despairing expression of his face, his troubled eyes, +his trembling lips; and in imagination she followed him through the +streets, as he went home, pale, utterly desolate, and wounded to the +heart’s core by her. Where was he now? Perhaps at this hour he was +really ill! + +She wrung her hands in agony, distressed that she could not at once +repair the evil she had done. Ah! how she revolted at the idea of having +made another suffer, for she had always wished to be good, and to render +those about her as happy as possible. + +Twelve o’clock would ere long ring out from the old church-tower; the +great elms of the garden of the Bishop’s palace hid the moon, which was +just appearing above the horizon, and the chamber was still dark. Then, +letting her head fall back upon the pillow, Angelique dwelt no longer +upon these disturbing questions, as she wished to go to sleep. But this +she could not do; although she kept her eyes closed, her mind was still +active; she thought of the flowers which every night during the last +fortnight she had found when she went upstairs upon the balcony before +her window. Each evening it was a lovely bouquet of violets, which +Felicien had certainly thrown there from the Clos-Marie. She recollected +having told him that flowers generally gave her a sick headache, whilst +violets alone had the singular virtue of calming her, and so he had sent +her quiet nights, a perfumed sleep refreshed by pleasant dreams. This +evening she had placed the bouquet by her bedside. All at once she had +the happy thought of taking it into her bed with her, putting it near +her cheek, and, little by little, being soothed with its sweet breath. +The purple blossoms did indeed do her good. Not that she slept, however; +but she lay there with closed eyes, penetrated by the refreshing +odour that came from his gift; happy to await events, in a repose and +confident abandonment of her whole being. + +But suddenly she started. It was past midnight. She opened her eyes, +and was astonished to find her chamber filled with a clear bright light. +Above the great elms the moon rose slowly, dimming the stars in the pale +sky. Through the window she saw the apse of the cathedral, almost white, +and it seemed to her as if it were the reflection of this whiteness +which entered her room, like the light of the dawn, fresh and pure. The +whitewashed walls and beams, all this blank nudity was increased by it, +enlarged, and moved back as if it were unreal as a dream. + +She still recognised, however, the old, dark, oaken furniture--the +wardrobe, the chest and the chairs, with the shining edges of their +elaborate carvings. The bedstead alone--this great square, royal +couch--seemed new to her, as if she saw it for the first time, with +its high columns supporting its canopy of old-fashioned, rose-tinted +cretonne, now bathed with such a sheet of deep moonlight that she half +thought she was on a cloud in the midst of the heavens, borne along by +a flight of silent, invisible wings. For a moment she felt the full +swinging of it; it did not seem at all strange or unnatural to her. But +her sight soon grew accustomed to the reality; her bed was again in its +usual corner, and she was in it, not moving her head, her eyes alone +turning from side to side, as she lay in the midst of this lake of +beaming rays, with the bouquet of violets upon her lips. + +Why was it that she was thus in a state of waiting? Why could she not +sleep? She was sure that she expected someone. That she had grown quite +calm was a sign that her hero was about to appear. This consoling +light, which put to flight the darkness of all bad dreams, announced +his arrival. He was on his way, and the moon, whose brightness almost +equalled that of the sun, was simply his forerunner. She must be ready +to greet him. + +The chamber was as if hung with white velvet now, so they could see each +other well. Then she got up, dressed herself thoroughly, putting on a +simple white gown of foulard, the same she had worn the day of their +excursion to the ruins of Hautecœur. She did not braid her hair, but +let it hang over her shoulders. She put a pair of slippers upon her bare +feet, and drawing an armchair in front of the window, seated herself, +and waited in patience. + +Angelique did not pretend to know how he would appear. Without doubt, he +would not come up the stairs, and it might be that she would simply see +him over the Clos-Marie, while she leaned from the balcony. Still, +she kept her place on the threshold of the window, as it seemed to her +useless to go and watch for him just yet. So vague was her idea of real +life, so mystic was love, that she did not understand in her imaginative +nature why he might not pass through the walls, like the saints in the +legends. Why should not miracles come now, as in the olden days, for had +not all this been ordained from the beginning? + +Not for a moment did she think she was alone to receive him. No, indeed! +She felt as if she were surrounded by the crowd of virgins who had +always been near her, since her early youth. They entered on the rays of +the moonlight, they came from the great dark trees with their blue-green +tops in the Bishop’s garden, from the most intricate corners of the +entanglement of the stone front of the Cathedral. From all the familiar +and beloved horizon of the Chevrotte, from the willows, the grasses, +and bushes, the young girl heard the dreams which came back to her, the +hopes, the desires, the visions, all that which she had put of herself +into inanimate objects as she saw them daily, and which they now +returned to her. Never had the voices of the Invisible unknown spoken +so clearly. She listened to them as they came from afar, recognising +particularly in this warm, beautiful night, so calm that there was not +the slightest movement in the air, the delicate sound which she was +wont to call the fluttering of the robe of Agnes, when her dear guardian +angel came to her side. She laughed quietly to know that she was now by +her, and waiting with the others who were near her. + +Time passed, but it did not seem long to Angelique. She was quite +conscious of what was passing around her. It appeared to her perfectly +natural, and exactly as it had been foretold, when at last she saw +Felicien striding over the balustrade of the balcony. + +His tall figure came out in full relief before the background of the +white sky; he did not approach the open window, but remained in its +luminous shadow. + +“Do not be afraid. It is I. I have come to see you.” + +She was not in the slightest way alarmed; she simply thought that he was +exact to the hour of meeting, and said calmly: + +“You mounted by the timber framework, did you not?” + +“Yes, by the framework.” + +The idea of this way made her laugh, and he himself was amused by it. +He had in fact pulled himself up by the pent-house shed; then, climbing +along the principal rafters from there, whose ends were supported by the +string-course of the first story, he had without difficulty reached the +balcony. + +“I was expecting you. Will you not come nearer me?” + +Felicien, who had arrived in a state of anger, not knowing how he had +dared to come, but with many wild ideas in his head, did not move, so +surprised and delighted was he by this unexpected reception. As he had +come at last, Angelique was now certain that the saints did not prohibit +her from loving, for she heard them welcoming him with her by a laugh as +delicate as a breath of the night. Where in the world had she ever found +so ridiculous an idea as to think that Agnes would be angry with her! On +the contrary, Agnes was radiant with a joy that she felt as it descended +on her shoulders and enveloped her like a caress from two great wings. +All those who had died for love showed great compassion for youthful +troubles, and only returned to earth on summer nights, that, although +invisible, they might watch those young hearts who were sorrowful from +affection. + +“But why do you not come to me? I was waiting for you.” + +Then, hesitatingly, Felicien approached. He had been so excited, so +carried away by anger at her indifference, that he had said she should +be made to love him, and that, were it necessary, he would carry her +away even against her will. And lo! now finding her so gentle as he +penetrated almost to the entrance of this chamber, so pure and white, he +became subdued at once, and as gentle and submissive as a child. + +He took three steps forward. But he was afraid, and not daring to go +farther, he fell on his knees at the end of the balcony. + +“Could you but know,” he said, “the abominable tortures I have passed +through. I have never imagined a worse suffering. Really, the only true +grief is to think that you are not beloved by the person to whom you +have given your affection. I would willingly give up all else; would +consent to be poor, dying from hunger, or racked by pain; but I will +not pass another day with this terrible doubt gnawing at my heart, of +thinking that you do not love me. Be good, I pray you, and pity me.” + +She listened to him, silent, overcome with compassion, yet very happy +withal. + +“This morning you sent me away in such a dreadful manner! I had fancied +to myself that you had changed your feelings towards me, and that, +appreciating my affection, you liked me better. But, alas! I found you +exactly as you had been on the first day, cold, indifferent, treating me +as you would have done any other simple customer who passed, recalling +me harshly to the commonplaces of life. On the stairway I staggered. +Once outside, I ran, and was afraid I might scream aloud. Then, the +moment I reached home, it seemed to me I should stifle were I to enter +the house. So I rushed out into the fields, walking by chance first on +one side of the road and then on another. Evening came, and I was still +wandering up and down. But the torment of spirit moved faster than ever +and devoured me. When one is hopelessly in love, it is impossible to +escape from the pains accompanying one’s affection. Listen!” he said, +and he touched his breast; “it is here that you stabbed me, and the +point of the knife still continues to penetrate deeper and deeper.” + +He gave a long sigh at the keen recollection of his torture. + +“I found myself at last in a thicket, overcome by my distress, like a +tree that has been drawn up by the roots. To me, the only thing that +existed in life, in the future, was you. The thought that you might +never be mine was more than I could bear. Already my feet were so weary +that they would no longer support me. I felt that my hands were growing +icy cold, and my head was filled with the strangest fancies. And that +is why I am here. I do not know at all how I came, or where I found the +necessary strength to bring me to you. You must try to forgive me; +but had I been forced to do so, I would have broken open doors with my +fists, I would have clambered up to this balcony in broad daylight, for +my will was no longer under my control, and I was quite wild. Now, will +you not pardon me?” + +She was a little in the shadow, and he, on his knees in the full +moonlight, could not see that she had grown very pale in her tender +repentance, and was too touched by his story to be able to speak. He +thought that she was still insensible to his pleadings, and he joined +his hands together most beseechingly. + +“All my interest in you commenced long ago. It was one night when I +saw you for the first time, here at your window. You were only a vague, +white shadow; I could scarcely distinguish one of your features, yet I +saw you and imagined you just as you are in reality. But I was timid and +afraid, so for several days I wandered about here, never daring to +try to meet you in the open day. And, in addition, since this is a +confession, I must tell you everything; you pleased me particularly in +this half mystery; it would have disturbed me to have you come out +from it, for my great happiness was to dream of you as if you were an +apparition, or an unknown something to be worshipped from afar, without +ever hoping to become acquainted with you. Later on, I knew who you +were, for after all it is difficult to resist the temptation to +know what may be the realisation of one’s dream. It was then that +my restlessness commenced. It has increased at each meeting. Do you +recollect the first time that we spoke to each other in the field near +by, on that forenoon when I was examining the painted window? Never in +my life did I feel so awkward as then, and it was not strange that +you ridiculed me so. Afterwards I frightened you, and realised that I +continued to be very unfortunate in following you, even in the visits +you made to the poor people. Already I ceased to be master of my own +actions, and did things that astonished me beyond measure, and which, +under usual circumstances, I would not have dared attempt. For instance, +when I presented myself here with the order for a mitre, I was pushed +forward by an involuntary force, as, personally, I dared not do it, +knowing that I might make you angry. But at present I cannot regain my +old self, I can only obey my impulses. I know that you do not like me, +and yet, as you see, in spite of it all I have come back to you, that +I may hear you tell me so. If you would but try to understand how +miserable I am. Do not love me if it is not in your heart to do so. I +must accept my fate. But at least allow me to love you. Be as cold as +you please, be hateful if you will--I shall adore you whatever you may +choose to be. I only ask to be able to see you, even without any hope; +merely for the joy of living thus at your feet.” + +Felicien stopped, disheartened, losing all courage as he thought he +would never find any way of touching her heart. And he did not see that +Angelique smiled, half hidden as she was by the open window-sash. It was +an invincible smile, that, little by little, spread over her whole face. +Ah! the dear fellow! How simple and trusting he was as he outpoured the +prayer of his heart, filled with new longings and love, in bowing before +her, as before the highest ideal of all his youthful dreams. + +To think that she had ever been so foolish as at first to try to avoid +all meetings with him, and then, later on, had determined that although +she could not help loving him, he should never know it! Such folly on +her part was quite inexplicable. Since love is right, and is the fate of +all, what good could be gained by making martyrs of them both? + +A complete silence ensued, and in her enthusiastic, imaginative, nervous +state, she heard, louder than ever, in the quiet of the warm night, the +voices of the saints about her, who said love was never forbidden when +it was so ardent and true as this. Behind her back a bright flash of +light had suddenly appeared; scarcely a breath, but a delicate wave from +the moon upon the chamber floor. An invisible finger, no doubt that of +her guardian angel, was placed upon her mouth, as if to unseal her +lips and relieve her from her vow. Henceforth she could freely unburden +herself and tell the truth. All that which was powerful and tender in +her surroundings now whispered to her words which seemed to come from +the infinite unknown. + +Then, at last, Angelique spoke. + +“Ah! yes, I recollect--I recollect it all.” + +And Felicien was at once carried away with delight by the music of this +voice, whose extreme charm was so great over him that his love seemed to +increase simply from listening to it. + +“Yes, I remember well when you came in the night. You were so far away +those first evenings that the little sound you made in walking left me +in quite an uncertain state. At last I realised perfectly that it was +you who approached me, and a little later I recognised your shadow. At +length, one evening you showed yourself boldly, on a beautiful, bright +night like this, in the full white light of the moon. You came out so +slowly from the inanimate objects near you, like a creation from all the +mysteries that surrounded me, exactly as I had expected to see you for a +long time, and punctual to the meeting. + +“I have never forgotten the great desire to laugh, which I kept back, +but which broke forth in spite of me, when you saved the linen that +was being carried away by the Chevrotte. I recollect my anger when you +robbed me of my poor people, by giving them so much money, and thus +making me appear as a miser. I can still recall my fear on the evening +when you forced me to run so fast through the grass with my bare feet. +Oh, yes, I have not forgotten anything--not the slightest thing.” + +At this last sentence her voice, pure and crystalline, was a little +broken by the thought of those magic words of the young man, the power +of which she felt so deeply when he said, “I love you,” and a deep blush +passed over her face. And he--he listened to her with delight. + +“It is indeed true that I did wrong to tease you. When one is ignorant, +one is often so foolish. One does many things which seem necessary, +simply from the fear of being found fault with if following the impulses +of the heart. But my remorse for all this was deep, and my sufferings, +in consequence, were as great as yours. Were I to try to explain all +this to you, it would be quite impossible for me to do so. When you +came to us with your drawing of Saint Agnes, oh! I could have cried out, +‘Thank you, thank you!’ I was perfectly enchanted to work for you, as I +thought you would certainly make us a daily visit. And yet, think of it! +I pretended to be indifferent, as if I had taken upon myself the task of +doing all in my power to drive you from the house. Has one ever the need +of being willfully unhappy? Whilst in reality I longed to welcome you +and to receive you with open hands, there seemed to be in the depths of +my nature another woman than myself, who revolted, who was afraid of and +mistrusted you--whose delight it was to torture you with uncertainty, +in the vague idea of setting up a quarrel, the cause of which, in a time +long passed, had been quite forgotten. I am not always good; often in my +soul things seem to creep up that I cannot explain or account for. The +worst of it was that I dared to speak to you of money. Fancy it, then! +Of money! I, who have never thought of it, who would accept chariots of +it, only for the pleasure of making it rain down as I wished, among the +needy! What a malicious amusement I gave myself in this calumniating my +character. Will you ever forgive me?” + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Felicien was at her feet. Until now he had kept his place in the remote +corner of the balcony. But in the intense happiness she gave him in thus +unfolding the innermost secrets of her soul he had drawn himself on his +knees towards her, as he approached the window. This great, illimitable +joy was so unlooked for, that he yielded to it in all the infinitude of +its hopes of the future. + +He half whispered: + +“Ah, dear soul, pure, kind, and beautiful, your wonderful goodness has +cured me as with a breath! I know not now if I have ever suffered. +And, in your turn, you will now have to pardon me, for I have an +acknowledgment to make to you. I must tell you who I am.” + +He was troubled at the thought he could no longer disguise himself or +his position, since she had confided so freely and entirely in him. It +would be disloyal in the highest degree to do so. Yet he hesitated, lest +he might, after all, lose her, were she to be anxious about the future +when at last she knew the facts. + +And she waited for him to speak again, a little malicious in spite of +herself. + +In a very low voice he continued: + +“I have told a falsehood to your parents.” + +“Yes, I know it,” she said as she smiled. + +“No, you do not know it; you could not possibly know it, for all that +happened too long ago. I only paint on glass for my own pleasure, and as +a simple amusement; you really ought to be told of that.” + +Then, with a quick movement, she put her hand on his mouth, as if she +wished to prevent this explanation. + +“I do not care to hear any more. I have been expecting you. I knew +that sooner or later you would come, and you have done so. That is +all-sufficient.” + +They talked no longer for a while. That little hand over his lips seemed +almost too great a happiness for him. + +“When the right time comes, then I shall know all. Yet I assure you that +I am ignorant of nothing connected with you, for everything had been +revealed to me before our first meeting. You were to be, and can be, +only the handsomest, the richest, and the most noble of men, the one +above all others; for that has ever been my dream, and in the sure +certainty of its full accomplishment I wait calmly. You are the chosen +hero who it was ordained should come, and I am yours.” + +A second time she interrupted herself in the tremor of the words she +pronounced. She did not appear to say them by herself alone; they came +to her as if sent by the beautiful night from the great white heavens, +from the old trees, and the aged stones sleeping outside and dreaming +aloud the fancies of the young girl. From behind her voices also +whispered them to her, the voices of her friends in the “Golden Legend,” + with whom she had peopled the air and the space around her. In this +atmosphere she had ever lived--mysticism, in which she revelled until +it seemed fact on one side, and the daily work of life on the other. +Nothing seemed strange to her. + +Now but one word remained to be said--that which would express all the +long waiting, the slow creation of affection, the constantly increasing +fever of restlessness. It escaped from her lips like a cry from a +distance, from the white flight of a bird mounting upward in the light +of the early dawn, in the pure whiteness of the chamber behind her. + +“I love you.” + +Angelique, her two hands spread out, bent forward towards Felicien. And +he recalled to himself the evening when she ran barefooted through the +grass, making so adorable a picture that he pursued her in order to +stammer in her ear these same words: “I love you.” He knew that now she +was simply replying to him with the same cry of affection, the eternal +cry, which at last came from her freely-opened heart. + +“Yes, I love you. I am yours. Lead the way, and I will follow you +wherever it may be.” + +In this surrender of her soul she gave herself to him fully and +entirely. It was the hereditary flame relighted within her--the pride +and the passion she thought had been conquered, but which awoke at the +wish of her beloved. He trembled before this innocence, so ardent and so +ingenuous. He took her hands gently, and crossed them upon her breast. +For a moment he looked at her, radiant with the intense happiness +her confession had given him, unwilling to wound her delicacy in the +slightest degree, and not thinking of yielding to the temptation of even +kissing her hair. + +“You love me, and you know that I love you! Ah! what bliss there is in +such knowledge.” + +But they were suddenly drawn from their ecstatic state by a change about +them. What did it all mean? They realised that now they were looking +at each other under a great white light. It seemed to them as if the +brightness of the moon had been increased, and was as resplendent as +that of the sun. It was in reality the daybreak, a slight shade of which +already tinged with purple the tops of the elm-trees in the neighbouring +gardens. What? It could not be possible that the dawn had come? They +were astonished by it, for they did not realise so long a time had +passed since they began to talk together on the balcony. She had as yet +told him nothing, and he had so many things he wished to say! + +“Oh, stay one minute more, only one minute!” he exclaimed. + +The daylight advanced still faster--the smiling morning, already +warm, of what was to be a hot day in summer. One by one the stars were +extinguished, and with them fled the wandering visions, and all the host +of invisible friends seemed to mount upward and to glide away on the +moon’s rays. + +Now, in the full, clear light, the room behind them had only its +ordinary whiteness of walls and ceiling, and seemed quite empty with its +old-fashioned furniture of dark oak. The velvet hangings were no longer +there, and the bedstead had resumed its original shape, as it stood half +hidden by the falling of one of its curtains. + +“Do stay! Let me be near you only one minute more!” + +Angelique, having risen, refused, and begged Felicien to leave +immediately. Since the day had come, she had grown confused and anxious. +The reality was now here. At her right hand, she seemed to hear a +delicate movement of wings, whilst her hair was gently blown, although +there was not the slightest breath of wind. Was it not Saint Agnes, who, +having remained until the last, was now forced to leave, driven away by +the sun? + +“No, leave me, I beg of you. I am unwilling you should stay longer.” + +Then Felicien, obedient, withdrew. + +To know that he was beloved was enough for him, and satisfied him. +Still, before leaving the balcony, he turned, and looked at her again +fixedly, as if he wished to carry away with him an indelible remembrance +of her. They both smiled at each other as they stood thus, bathed with +light, in this long caressing look. + +At last he said: + +“I love you.” + +And she gently replied: + +“I love you.” + +That was all, and he had in a moment, with the agility of a bird, gone +down the woodwork of the corner of the building, while she, remaining on +the balcony, leaned on the balustrade and watched him, with her tender, +beautiful eyes. She had taken the bouquet of violets and breathed the +perfume to cool her feverishness. When, in crossing the Clos-Marie, he +lifted his head, he saw that she was kissing the flowers. + +Scarcely had Felicien disappeared behind the willows, when Angelique was +disturbed by hearing below the opening of the house-door. Four o’clock +had just struck, and no one was in the habit of getting up until two +hours later. Her surprise increased when she recognised Hubertine, as it +was always Hubert who went down the first. She saw her follow slowly the +walks of the narrow garden, her arms hanging listlessly at her sides, as +if, after a restless, sleepless night, a feeling of suffocating, a need +of breathing the fresh air, had made her leave her room so early. And +Hubertine was really very beautiful, with her clothes so hastily put on; +and she seemed very weary--happy, but in the deepest grief. + +The morning of the next day, on waking from a sound sleep of eight +hours, one of those sweet, deep, refreshing sleeps that come after some +great happiness, Angelique ran to her window. The sky was clear, the +air pure, and the fine weather had returned after a heavy shower of the +previous evening. Delighted, she called out joyously to Hubert, who was +just opening the blinds below her: + +“Father! Father! Do look at the beautiful sunlight. Oh, how glad I am, +for the procession will be superb!” + +Dressing herself as quickly as possible, she hurried to go downstairs. +It was on that day, July 28, that the Procession of the Miracle would +pass through the streets of the upper town. Every summer at this date +it was also a festival for the embroiderers; all work was put aside, no +needles were threaded, but the day was passed in ornamenting the house, +after a traditional arrangement that had been transmitted from mother to +daughter for four hundred years. + +All the while that she was taking her coffee, Angelique talked of the +hangings. + +“Mother, we must look at them at once, to see if they are in good +order.” + +“We have plenty of time before us, my dear,” replied Hubertine, in her +quiet way. “We shall not put them up until afternoon.” + +The decorations in question consisted of three large panels of the +most admirable ancient embroidery, which the Huberts guarded with the +greatest care as a sacred family relic, and which they brought out once +a year on the occasion of the passing of this special procession. + +The previous evening, according to a time-honoured custom, the Master +of the Ceremonies, the good Abbé Cornille, had gone from door to door to +notify the inhabitants of the route which would be taken by the bearers +of the statue of Saint Agnes, accompanied by Monseigneur the Bishop, +carrying the Holy Sacrament. For more than five centuries this route had +been the same. The departure was made from the portal of Saint Agnes, +then by the Rue des Orfèvres to the Grand Rue, to the Rue Basse, and +after having gone through the whole of the lower town, it returned by +the Rue Magloire and the Place du Cloître, to reappear again at the +great front entrance of the Church. And the dwellers on all these +streets, vying with each other in their zeal, decorated their windows, +hung upon their walls their richest possessions in silks, satins, +velvets, or tapestry, and strewed the pavements with flowers, +particularly with the leaves of roses and carnations. + +Angelique was very impatient until permission had been given her to +take from the drawers, where they had been quietly resting for the past +twelve months, the three pieces of embroidery. + +“They are in perfect order, mother. Nothing has happened to them,” she +said, as she looked at them, enraptured. + +She had with the greatest care removed the mass of silk paper that +protected them from the dust, and they now appeared in all their beauty. +The three were consecrated to Mary. The Blessed Virgin receiving the +visit of the Angel of the Annunciation; the Virgin Mother at the foot +of the Cross; and the Assumption of the Virgin. They were made in +the fifteenth century, of brightly coloured silks wrought on a golden +background, and were wonderfully well preserved. The family had always +refused to sell them, although very large sums had been offered by +different churches, and they were justly proud of their possessions. + +“Mother, dear, may I not hang them up to-day?” + +All these preparations required a great deal of time. Hubert was +occupied the whole forenoon in cleaning the front of the old building. +He fastened a broom to the end of a long stick, that he might dust all +the wooden panels decorated with bricks, as far as the framework of the +roof; then with a sponge he washed all the sub-basement of stone, and +all the parts of the stairway tower that he could reach. When that +was finished, the three superb pieces of embroidery were put in their +places. Angelique attached them, by their rings, to venerable nails that +were in the walls; the Annunciation below the window at the left, the +Assumption below the window at the right, while for the Calvary, the +nails for that were above the great window of the first story, and she +was obliged to use a step-ladder that she might hang it there in its +turn. She had already embellished the window with flowers, so that the +ancient dwelling seemed to have gone back to the far-away time of its +youth, with its embroideries of gold and of silk glistening in the +beautiful sunshine of this festive day. + +After the noon breakfast the activity increased in every direction, and +the whole Rue des Orfèvres was now in excitement. To avoid the great +heat, the procession would not move until five o’clock, but after twelve +the town began to be decorated. Opposite the Huberts’, the silversmith +dressed his shop with draperies of an exquisite light blue, bordered +with a silver fringe; while the wax-chandler, who was next to him, made +use of his window-curtains of red cotton, which looked more brilliant +than ever in the broad light of day. At each house there were different +colours; a prodigality of stuffs, everything that people owned, even to +rugs of all descriptions, were blowing about in the weary air of this +hot summer afternoon. The street now seemed clothed, sparkling, and +almost trembling with gaiety, as if changed into a gallery of fête open +to the sky. All its inhabitants were rushing to and fro, pushing against +each other; speaking loud, as if in their own homes; some of them +carrying their arms full of objects, others climbing, driving nails, +and calling vociferously. In addition to all this was the _reposoir_, +or altar, that was being prepared at the corner of the Grand Rue, the +arrangements for which called for the services of all the women of the +neighbourhood, who eagerly offered their vases and candlesticks. + +Angelique ran down to carry the two candelabra, of the style of the +Empire, which they had on the mantel-shelf of their parlour. She had not +taken a moment’s rest since the early morning, but had shown no signs of +fatigue, being, on the contrary, supported and carried above herself by +her great inward happiness. And as she came back from her errand, her +hair blown all about her face by the wind, Hubert began to tease her as +she seated herself to strip off the leaves of the roses, and to put them +in a great basket. + +“You could not do any more than you have done were it your wedding-day, +my dear. Is it, then, that you are really to be married now?” + +“But yes! oh, yes! Why not?” she answered gaily. + +Hubertine smiled in her turn. + +“While waiting, my daughter, since the house is so satisfactorily +arranged, the best thing for us to do is to go upstairs and dress.” + +“In a minute, mother. Look at my full basket.” + +She had finished taking the leaves from the roses which she had reserved +to throw before Monseigneur. The petals rained from her slender fingers; +the basket was running over with its light, perfumed contents. Then, +as she disappeared on the narrow stairway of the tower, she said, while +laughing heartily: + +“We will be quick. I will make myself beautiful as a star!” + +The afternoon advanced. Now the feverish movement in Beaumont-l’Église +was calmed; a peculiar air of expectation seemed to fill the streets, +which were all ready, and where everyone spoke softly, in hushed, +whispering voices. The heat had diminished, as the sun’s rays grew +oblique, and between the houses, so closely pressed the one against +the others, there fell from the pale sky only a warm, fine shadow of a +gentle, serene nature. The air of meditation was profound, as if the old +town had become simply a continuation of the Cathedral; the only sound +of carriages that could be heard came up from Beaumont-la-Ville, the new +town on the banks of the Ligneul, where many of the factories were +not closed, as the proprietors disdained taking part in this ancient +religious ceremony. + +Soon after four o’clock the great bell of the northern tower, the one +whose swinging stirred the house of the Huberts, began to ring; and it +was at that very moment that Hubertine and Angelique reappeared. The +former had put on a dress of pale buff linen, trimmed with a simple +thread lace, but her figure was so slight and youthful in its delicate +roundness that she looked as if she were the sister of her adopted +daughter. Angelique wore her dress of white foulard, with its soft +ruchings at the neck and wrists, and nothing else; neither earrings +nor bracelets, only her bare wrists and throat, soft in their satiny +whiteness as they came out from the delicate material, light as the +opening of a flower. An invisible comb, put in place hastily, scarcely +held the curls of her golden hair, which was carelessly dressed. She +was artless and proud, of a most touching simplicity, and, indeed, +“beautiful as a star.” + +“Ah!” she said, “the bell! That is to show that Monseigneur has left his +palace.” + +The bell continued to sound loud and clear in the great purity of the +atmosphere. The Huberts installed themselves at the wide-opened window +of the first story, the mother and daughter being in front, with +their elbows resting on the bar of support, and the husband and father +standing behind them. These were their accustomed places; they could not +possibly have found better, as they would be the very first to see +the procession as it came from the farther end of the church, without +missing even a single candle of the marching-past. + +“Where is my basket?” asked Angelique. + +Hubert was obliged to take and pass to her the basket of rose-leaves, +which she held between her arms, pressed against her breast. + +“Oh, that bell!” she at last murmured; “it seems as if it would lull us +to sleep!” + +And still the waiting continued in the little vibrating house, sonorous +with the musical movement; the street and the great square waited, +subdued by this great trembling, whist the hangings on every side blew +about more quietly in the air of the coming evening. The perfume of +roses was very sweet. + +Another half-hour passed. Then at the same moment the two halves of the +portal of Saint Agnes were opened, and they perceived the very depths +of the church, dark in reality, but dotted with little bright spots from +the tapers. First the bearer of the Cross appeared, a sub-deacon in +a tunic, accompanied by the acolytes, each one of whom held a lighted +candle in his hand. Behind them hurried along the Master of the +Ceremonies, the good Abbé Cornille, who after having assured himself +that everything was in perfect order in the street, stopped under the +porch, and assisted a moment at the passing out, in order to be sure +that the places assigned to each section had been rightly taken. +The various societies of laymen opened the march: the charitable +associations, schools, by rank of seniority, and numerous public +organisations. There were a great many children: little girls all in +white, like brides, and little bareheaded boys, with curly hair, dressed +in their best, like princes, already looking in every direction to find +where their mothers were. A splendid fellow, nine years of age, walked +by himself in the middle, clad like Saint John the Baptist, with a +sheepskin over his thin, bare shoulders. Four little girls, covered with +pink ribbons, bore a shield on which was a sheaf of ripe wheat. Then +there were young girls grouped around a banner of the Blessed Virgin; +ladies in black, who also had their special banner of crimson silk, on +which was embroidered a portrait of Saint Joseph. There were other +and still other banners, in velvet or in satin, balanced at the end of +gilded batons. The brotherhoods of men were no less numerous; penitents +of all colours, but especially the grey penitents in dark linen suits, +wearing cowls, and whose emblems made a great sensation--a large cross, +with a wheel, to which were attached the instruments of the Passion. + +Angelique exclaimed with tenderness when the children came by: + +“Oh, the blessed darlings! Do look at them all!” + +One, no higher than a boot, scarcely three years of age, proudly +tottered along on his little feet, and looked so comical that she +plunged her hands into her basket and literally covered him with +flowers. He quite disappeared under them for an instant; he had roses +in his hair and on his shoulders. The exquisite little laughing shout he +uttered was enjoyed on every side, and flowers rained down from all the +windows as the cherub passed. In the humming silence of the street one +could now only hear the deafened sound of the regular movement of feet +in the procession, while flowers by the handful still continued to fall +silently upon the pavement. Very soon there were heaps of them. + +But now, reassured upon the good order of the laymen, the Abbé Cornille +grew impatient and disturbed, inasmuch as the procession had been +stationary for nearly two minutes, and he walked quickly towards the +head of it, bowing and smiling at the Huberts as he passed. + +“What has happened? What can prevent them from continuing?” said +Angelique, all feverish from excitement, as if she were waiting for some +expected happiness that was to come to her from the other end that was +still in the church. + +Hubertine answered her gently, as usual: + +“There is no reason why they should run.” + +“There is some obstruction evidently; perhaps it is a _reposoir_ that is +still unfinished,” Hubert added. + +The young girls of the Society of the Blessed Virgin, the “daughters of +Mary,” as they are called, had already commenced singing a canticle, and +their clear voices rose in the air, pure as crystal. Nearer and nearer +the double ranks caught the movement and recommenced their march. + + + +CHAPTER X + +After the civilians, the clergy began to leave the church, the lower +orders coming first. All, in surplices, covered their heads with their +caps, under the porch; and each one held a large, lighted wax taper; +those at the right in their right hand, and those at the left in their +left hand, outside the rank, so there was a double row of flame, almost +deadened by the brightness of the day. First were representatives from +the great seminaries, the parishes, and then collegiate churches; then +came the beneficed clergymen and clerks of the Cathedral, followed by +the canons in white pluvials. In their midst were the choristers, in +capes of red silk, who chanted the anthem in full voice, and to whom all +the clergy replied in lower notes. The hymn, “Pange Lingua,” was grandly +given. The street was now filled with a rustling of muslin from the +flying winged sleeves of the surplices, which seemed pierced all over +with tiny stars of pale gold from the flames of the candles. + +“Oh!” at last Angelique half sighed, “there is Saint Agnes!” + +She smiled at the saint, borne by four clerks in white surplices, on a +platform of white velvet heavily ornamented with lace. Each year it was +like a new surprise to her, as she saw her guardian angel thus brought +out from the shadows where she had been growing old for centuries, quite +like another person under the brilliant sunshine, as if she were timid +and blushing in her robe of long, golden hair. She was really so old, +yet still very young, with her small hands, her little slender feet, her +delicate, girlish face, blackened by time. + +But Monseigneur was to follow her. Already the swinging of the censers +could be heard coming from the depths of the church. + +There was a slight murmuring of voices as Angelique repeated: + +“Monseigneur, Monseigneur,” and with her eyes still upon the saint who +was going by, she recalled to mind at this moment the old histories. +The noble Marquesses d’Hautecœur delivering Beaumont from the plague, +thanks to the intervention of Agnes, then Jean V. and all those of his +race coming to kneel before her image, to pay their devotions to the +saint, and she seemed to see them all, the lords of the miracle, coming +one by one like a line of princes. + +A large space had been left empty. Then the chaplain charged with the +care of the crozier advanced, holding it erect, the curved part being +towards him. Afterward came two censer-bearers, who walked backwards and +swung the censers gently from side to side, each one having near him +an acolyte charged with the incense-box. There was a little difficulty +before they succeeded in passing by one of the divisions of the door the +great canopy of royal scarlet velvet, decorated with a heavy fringe of +gold. But the delay was short, order was quickly re-established, and the +designated officials took the supports in hand. Underneath, between his +deacons of honour, Monseigneur walked, bareheaded, his shoulders covered +with a white scarf, the two ends of which enveloped his hands, which +bore the Holy Sacrament as high as possible, and without touching it. + +Immediately the incense-bearers resumed their places, and the censers +sent out in haste, fell back again in unison with the little silvery +sound of their chains. + +But Angelique started as she thought, where had she ever seen anyone +who looked like Monseigneur? She certainly knew his face before, but +had never been struck by it as to-day! All heads were bowed in solemn +devotion. But she was so uneasy, she simply bent down and looked at him. +He was tall, slight, and noble-looking; superb in his physical strength, +notwithstanding his sixty years. His eyes were piercing as those of +an eagle; his nose, a little prominent, only seemed to increase the +sovereign authority of his face, which was somewhat softened by his +white hair, that was thick and curly. She noticed the pallor of his +complexion, and it seemed to her as if he suddenly flushed from some +unknown reason. Perhaps, however, it was simply a reflection from the +great golden-rayed sun which he carried in his covered hands, and which +placed him in a radiance of mystic light. + +Certainly, he to-day made her think of someone, but of whom? As soon as +he left the church, Monseigneur had commenced a psalm, which he recited +in a low voice, alternating the verses thereof with his deacons. And +Angelique trembled when she saw him turn his eyes towards their window, +for he seemed to her so severe, so haughty, and so cold, as if he were +condemning the vanity of all earthly affection. He turned his face +towards the three bands of ancient embroidery--Mary and the Angel, +Mary at the foot of the Cross, Mary being borne to Heaven--and his face +brightened. Then he lowered his eyes and fixed them upon her, but she +was so disturbed she could not tell whether his glance was harsh or +gentle; at all events it was only for a moment, for quickly regarding +the Holy Sacrament, his expression was lost in the light which came from +the great golden vessel. The censers still swung back and forth with a +measured rhythm, while a little blue cloud mounted in the air. + +But Angelique’s heart now beat so rapidly she could scarcely keep still. +Behind the canopy she had just seen a chaplain, his fingers covered with +a scarf, who was carrying the mitre as devoutly as if it were a sacred +object, Saint Agnes flying heavenward with the two angels, the work of +her hands, and into each stitch of which she had put such deep love. +Then, among the laymen who followed, in the midst of functionaries, of +officers, of magistrates, she recognised Felicien in the front rank, +slight and graceful, with his curly hair, his rather large but straight +nose, and his black eyes, the expression of which was at the same time +proud and gentle. She expected him; she was not at all surprised to find +him transformed into a prince; her heart simply was overflowing with +joy. To the anxious look which he gave her, as of imploring forgiveness +for his falsehood, she replied by a lovely smile. + +“But look!” exclaimed Hubertine, astonished at what she saw, “is not +that the young man who came to our house about the mitre?” + +She had also recognised him, and was much disturbed when, turning +towards the young girl, she saw the latter transfigured, in ecstacy, +avoiding a reply. + +“Then he did not tell us the truth about himself? But why? Do you know +the reason? Tell me, my dear, do you know who this young man is?” + +Yes, perhaps in reality she did know. An inner voice answered all these +questions. But she dared not speak; she was unwilling to ask herself +anything. At the right time and at the proper place the truth would +be made clear. She thought it was approaching, and felt an increase of +pride of spirit, and of great love. + +“But what is it? What has happened?” asked Hubert, as he bent forward +and touched the shoulder of his wife. + +He was never present at the moment of an occurrence, but always appeared +to come from a reverie to the realisation of what passed about him. When +the young man was pointed out to him, he did not recognise him at all. + +“Is it he? I think not. No, you must be mistaken; it is not he.” + +Then Hubertine acknowledged that she was not quite sure. At all events, +it was as well to talk no more about it, but she would inform herself +later on. But the procession, which had stopped again in order that +Monseigneur might incense the Holy Sacrament, which was placed among the +verdure of a temporary altar at the corner of the street, was now about +to move on again; and Angelique, whose hands seemed lost in the basket +on her lap, suddenly, in her delight and confusion, made a quick +movement, and carelessly threw out a great quantity of the perfumed +petals. At that instant Felicien approached. The leaves fell like a +little shower, and at last two of them fluttered, balanced themselves, +then quietly settled down on his hair. + +It was over. The canopy had disappeared round the corner of the Grand +Rue, the end of the cortege went by, leaving the pavements deserted, +hushed as if quieted by a dreamy faith, in the rather strong exhalation +of crushed roses. Yet one could still hear in the distance, growing +weaker and weaker by degrees, the silvery sound of the little chains of +the swinging censers. + +“Oh mother!” said Angelique, pleadingly, “do let us go into the church, +so as to see them all as they come back.” + +Hubertine’s first impulse was to refuse. But she, for her own part, was +very anxious to ascertain what she could about Felicien, so she replied: + +“Yes, after a while, if you really wish to do so.” + +But they must, of course, wait a little. Angelique, after going to her +room for her hat, could not keep still. She returned every minute to the +great window, which was still wide open. She looked to the end of the +street inquiringly, then she lifted her eyes as if seeking something +in space itself; and so nervous was she that she spoke aloud, as she +mentally followed the procession step by step. + +“Now they are going down the Rue Basse. Ah! see, they must be turning on +the square before the Sous Prefecture. There is no end to all the long +streets in Beaumont-la-Ville. What pleasure can they take in seeing +Saint Agnes, I would like to know. All these petty tradesmen!” + +Above them, in the heavens, was a delicately rose-tinted cloud, with a +band of white and gold around it, and it seemed as if from it there +came a devotional peace and a hush of religious expectation. In the +immobility of the air one realised that all civil life was suspended, as +if God had left His house, and everyone was awaiting His return before +resuming their daily occupations. Opposite them the blue draperies of +the silversmith, and the red curtains of the wax-chandler, still barred +the interior of their shops and hid the contents from view. The streets +seemed empty; there was no reverberation from one to the other, except +that of the slow march of the clergy, whose progress could easily be +realised from every corner of the town. + +“Mother! mother! I assure you that now they are at the corner of the Rue +Magloire. They will soon come up the hill.” + +She was mistaken, for it was only half-past six, and the procession +never came back before a quarter-past seven. She should have known well, +had she not been over-impatient, that the canopy must be only at the +lower wharf of the Ligneul. But she was too excited to think. + +“Oh! mother dear! _do_ hurry, or we may not find any places.” + +“Come, make haste then, little one,” at last Hubertine said, smiling in +spite of herself. “We shall certainly be obliged to wait a great while, +but never mind.” + +“As for me, I will remain at home,” said Hubert. “I can take down and +put away the embroidered panels, and then I will set the table for +dinner.” + +The church seemed empty to them, as the Blessed Sacrament was no longer +there. All the doors were wide open, like those of a house in complete +disorder, where one is awaiting the return of the master. Very few +persons came in; the great altar alone, a sarcophagus of severe +Romanesque style, glittered as if burning at the end of the nave, +covered as it was with stars from the flame of many candles; all +the rest of the enormous building--the aisles, the chapels, and the +arches--seemed filled with shadow under the coming-on of the evening +darkness. + +Slowly, in order to gain a little patience, Angelique and Hubertine +walked round the edifice. Low down, it seemed as if crushed, thickset +columns supported the semicircular arches of the side-aisles. They +walked the whole length of the dark chapels, which were buried almost +as if they were crypts. Then, when they crossed over, before the great +entrance portal, under the triforium of the organ, they had a feeling of +deliverance as they raised their eyes towards the high, Gothic windows +of the nave, which shot up so gracefully above the heavy Romanesque +coursed work. But they continued by the southern side-aisle, and the +feeling of suffocation returned again. At the cross of the transept four +enormous pillars made the four corners, and rose to a great height, then +struck off to support the roof. There was still to be found a delicate +purple-tinted light, the farewell of the day, through the rose windows +of the side fronts. They had crossed the three steps which led to the +choir, then they turned by the circumference of the apse, which was +the very oldest part of the building, and seemed most sepulchral. +They stopped one moment and leaned against the ancient grating, which +entirely surrounded the choir, and which was most elaborately wrought, +that they might look at the flaming altar, where each separate light was +reflected in the old polished oak of the stalls, most marvellous stalls, +covered with rare sculptures. So at last they came back to the point +from which they started, lifting up their heads as if they breathed more +freely from the heights of the nave, which the growing shades at night +drove farther away, and enlarged the old walls, on which were faint +remains of paintings and of gold. + +“I know perfectly well that we are altogether too early,” said +Hubertine. + +Angelique, without replying, said, as if to herself: + +“How grand it is!” + +It really seemed to her as if she had never known the church before, but +that she had just seen it for the first time. Her eyes wandered over the +motionless sea of chairs, then went to the depth of the chapels, where +she could only imagine were tombs and old funereal stones, on account +of the increased darkness therein. But she saw at last the Chapel +Hautecœur, where she recognised the window that had been repaired, with +its Saint George, that now looked vague as a dream, in the dusk. She was +unusually happy. + +At last there was a gentle shaking through the whole building, and the +great clock struck. Then the bell began to ring. + +“Ah! now,” she said, “look, for they are really coming up the Rue +Magloire.” + +This time it was indeed so. A crowd invaded the church, the aisles were +soon filled, and one realised that each minute the procession approached +nearer and nearer. The noise increased with the pealing of the bells, +with a certain rushing movement of air by the great entrance, the portal +of which was wide open. + +Angelique, leaning on Hubertine’s shoulder, made herself as tall as +possible by standing upon the points of her feet, as she looked towards +this arched open space, the roundness of whose top was perfectly defined +in the pale twilight of the Place du Cloître. The first to appear was, +of course, the bearer of the Cross, accompanied by his two acolytes with +their candelabra; and behind them the Master of the Ceremonies hurried +along--the good Abbé Cornille, who now seemed quite out of breath and +overcome by fatigue. At the threshold of the door, the silhouette of +each new arrival was thrown out for a second, clear and strong, then +passed quickly away in the darkness of the interior. There were the +laymen, the schools, the associations, the fraternities, whose banners, +like sails, wavered for an instant, then suddenly vanished in the shade. +One saw again the pale “daughters of Mary,” who, as they entered, still +sang with their voices like those of seraphim. + +The Cathedral had room for all. The nave was slowly filled, the men +being at the right and the women at the left. But night had come. The +whole place outside was dotted with bright points, hundreds of moving +lights, and soon it was the turn for the clergy, the tapers that were +held outside the ranks making a double yellow cord as they passed +through the door. The tapers seemed endless as they succeeded each other +and multiplied themselves; the great seminary, the parishes, and the +Cathedral; the choristers still singing the anthem, and the canons in +their white pluvials. Then little by little the church became lighted +up, seemed inhabited, illuminated, overpowered by hundreds of stars, +like a summer sky. + +Two chairs being unoccupied, Angelique stood upon one of them. + +“Get down, my dear,” whispered Hubertine, “for that is forbidden.” + +But she tranquilly remained there, and did not move. + +“Why is it forbidden? I must see, at all events. Oh! how exquisite all +this is!” + +At last she prevailed upon her mother to get upon the other chair. + +Now the whole Cathedral was glowing with a reddish yellow light. This +billow of candles which crossed it illuminated the lower arches of the +side-aisles, the depth of the chapels, and glittered upon the glass +of some shrine or upon the gold of some tabernacle. The rays even +penetrated into the apse, and the sepulchral crypts were brightened +up by them. The choir was a mass of flame, with its altar on fire, its +glistening stalls, and its old railing, whose ornamentation stood out +boldly. And the flight of the nave was stronger marked than ever, with +the heavy curved pillars below, supporting the round arches, while +above, the numbers of little columns grew smaller and smaller as they +burst forth among the broken arches of the ogives, like an inexpressible +declaration of faith and love which seemed to come from the lights. +In the centre, under the roof, along the ribs of the nave, there was +a yellow cloud, a thick colour of wax, from the multitude of little +tapers. + +But now, above the sound of feet and the moving of chairs, one heard +again the falling of the chains of the censers. Then the organ pealed +forth majestically, a glorious burst of music that filled to overflowing +the highest arches as if with the rumbling of thunder. It was at this +instant that Monseigneur arrived on the Place du Cloître. The statue of +Saint Agnes had reached the apse, still borne by the surpliced clerks, +and her face looked very calm under the light, as if she were more than +happy to return to her dreams of four centuries. At last, preceded by +the crosier, and followed by the mitre, Monseigneur entered with his +deacons under the canopy, still having his two hands covered with a +white scarf, and holding the Blessed Sacrament in the same position +as at first. The canopy, which was borne down the central aisle, was +stopped at the railing of the choir, and there, on account of a certain +unavoidable confusion, the Bishop was for a moment made to approach the +persons who formed his suite. Since Felicien had reappeared, Angelique +had looked at him constantly. It so happened that on account of the +pressure he was placed a little at the right of the canopy, and at that +moment she saw very near together the white head of Monseigneur and the +blonde head of the young man. That glance was a revelation; a sudden +light came to her eyes; she joined her hands together as she said aloud: + +“Oh! Monseigneur, the son of Monseigneur!” + +Her secret escaped her. It was an involuntary cry, the certainty which +revealed itself in this sudden fact of their resemblance. Perhaps, in +the depths of her mind, she already knew it, but she would never have +dared to have said so; whilst now it was self-evident, a fact of which +there could be no denial. From everything around her, from her own +soul, from inanimate objects, from past recollections, her cry seemed +repeated. + +Hubertine, quite overcome, said in a whisper, “This young man is the son +of Monseigneur?” + +Around these two the crowd had gradually accumulated. They were well +known and were greatly admired; the mother still adorable in her simple +toilette of linen, the daughter with the angelic grace of a cherubim, in +her gown of white foulard, as light as a feather. They were so handsome +and in such full view, as they stood upon their chairs, that from every +direction eyes were turned towards them, and admiring glances given +them. + +“But yes, indeed, my good lady,” said the _mère_ Lemballeuse, who +chanced to be in the group; “but yes, he is the son of Monseigneur. But +how does it happen that you have not already heard of it? And not only +that, but he is a wonderfully handsome young man, and so rich! Rich! +Yes indeed, he could buy the whole town if he wished to do so. He has +millions and millions!” + +Hubertine turned very pale as she listened. + +“You must have heard his history spoken of?” continued the beggar-woman. +“His mother died soon after his birth, and it was on that account that +Monseigneur concluded to become a clergyman. Now, however, after all +these years, he sent for his son to join him. He is, in fact, Felicien +VII d’Hautecœur, with a title as if he were a real prince.” + +Then Hubertine was intensely grieved. But Angelique beamed with joy +before the commencement of the realisation of her dream. She was not in +the slightest degree astonished, for she had always known that he would +be the richest, the noblest, and the handsomest of men. So her joy was +intense and perfect, without the slightest anxiety for the future, or +suspicion of any obstacle that could possibly come between them. In +short, he would in his turn now make himself known, and would tell +everything. As she had fancied, gold would stream down with the little +flickering flames of the candles. The organs would send forth their +most glorious music on the occasion of their betrothal. The line of +the Hautecœurs would continue royally from the beginning of the +legend--Norbert I., Jean V., Felicien III., Jean XII., then the last, +Felicien VII, who just turned towards her his noble face. He was the +descendant of the cousins of the Virgin, the master, the superb son, +showing himself in all his beauty at the side of his father. + +Just then Felicien smiled sweetly at her, and she did not see the angry +look of Monseigneur, who had remarked her standing on the chair, above +the crowd, blushing in her pride and love. + +“Oh, my poor dear child!” sighed Hubertine. + +But the chaplain and the acolytes were ranged on the right and the left, +and the first deacon having taken the Holy Sacrament from the hands +of Monseigneur, he placed it on the altar. It was the final +Benediction--the _Tantum ergo_ sung loudly by the choristers, the +incenses of the boxes burning in the censers, the strange, brusque +silence during the prayer--and in the midst of the lighted church, +overflowing with clergy and with people, under the high, springing +arches, Monseigneur remounted to the altar, took again in his two hands +the great golden sun, which he waved back and forth in the air three +times, with a slow sign of the Cross. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +That same evening, on returning from church, Angelique thought to +herself, “I shall see him again very soon, for he will certainly be in +the Clos-Marie, and I will go there to meet him.” + +Without having exchanged a word with each other, they appeared to have +silently arranged this interview. The family dined as usual in the +kitchen, but it was eight o’clock before they were seated at the table. +Hubert, quite excited by this day of recreation and of fête, was the +only one who had anything to say. Hubertine, unusually quiet, scarcely +replied to her husband, but kept her looks fixed upon the young girl, +who ate heartily and with a good appetite, although she scarcely seemed +to pay any attention to the food, or to know that she put her fork to +her mouth, so absorbed was she by her fancies. And under this candid +forehead, as under the crystal of the purest water, Hubertine read her +thoughts clearly, and followed them as they formed themselves in her +mind one by one. + +At nine o’clock they were greatly surprised by a ringing of the +door-bell. It proved to be the Abbé Cornille, who, notwithstanding his +great fatigue, had come to tell them that Monseigneur the Bishop had +greatly admired the three old panels of marvellous embroidery. + +“Yes, indeed! And he spoke of them so enthusiastically to me that I was +sure it would please you to know it.” + +Angelique, who had roused up on hearing the name of Monseigneur, fell +back again into her reveries as soon as the conversation turned to the +procession. Then after a few minutes she got up. + +“But where are you going, dear?” asked Hubertine. + +The question startled her, as if she herself knew not why she had left +her seat. + +“I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired.” + +In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason +that influenced her. It was the need of being by herself, the haste of +communing alone with her great happiness. + +When she held her in her arms pressed against her breast, she felt that +she was trembling. She almost seemed to avoid her usual evening kiss. +Looking anxiously in her face, Hubertine read in her eyes the feverish +expectation connected with the hoped-for meeting. It was all so evident +to her that she promised herself to keep a close watch. + +“Be good, dear, and sleep well.” + +But already, after a hurried good-night to Hubert and to the Abbé +Cornille, Angelique was halfway up the stairs, quite disturbed, as she +realised that her secret had almost escaped her. Had her mother held her +against her heart one second longer, she would have told her everything. +When she had shut herself in her own room, and doubly locked her door, +the light troubled her, and she blew out her candle. The moon, which +rose later and later, had not yet appeared above the horizon, and the +night was very dark. Without undressing, she seated herself before the +open window, looked out into the deep shade, and waited patiently +for the hours to pass. The minutes went by rapidly, as she was fully +occupied with the one idea that as soon as the clock struck for midnight +she would go down to find Felicien. As it would be the most natural +thing in the world to do, she traced out her way, step by step, and +every movement she would make with the most perfect composure. + +It was not very late when she heard the Abbé Cornille take his leave. +Soon after, the Huberts, in their turn, came upstairs. Then it seemed +to her as if someone came out of their chamber, and with furtive steps +moved cautiously as far as the foot of the stairway, then stopped, as if +listening for a moment before returning. Then the house soon sank, as if +in the quiet of a deep sleep. + +When the great church clock struck twelve, Angelique left her seat. +“Now I must go, for he is waiting for me.” She unlocked the door, and, +passing out, neglected closing it after her. Going down the first flight +of stairs, she stopped as she approached the room of the Huberts, +but heard nothing--nothing but the indefinable quivering of silence. +Moreover, she was neither in a hurry, nor had she any fear, for being +totally unconscious of any wrong intentions, she felt at perfect ease. +It would have been quite impossible for her not to have gone down. +An inward power directed and led her, and it all seemed so simple and +right; she would have smiled at the idea of a hidden danger. Once in the +lower rooms, she passed through the kitchen to go out into the garden, +and again forgot to fasten the shutters. Then she walked rapidly towards +the little gate of the Clos-Marie, which she also left wide open after +her. Notwithstanding the obscurity and the dense shadows in the field, +she did not hesitate an instant, but went direct to the little plank +which served as a bridge to the Chevrotte, crossed it, guiding herself +by feeling the way, as if in a familiar place, where every tree and bush +were well known to her. Turning to the right, under a great willow-tree, +she had only to put out her hands to have them earnestly grasped by +Felicien, whom she knew would be there in waiting for her. + +For a minute, without speaking, Angelique pressed Felicien’s hands in +hers. They could not see each other, for the sky was covered with a +misty cloud of heat, and the pale moon which had just risen, had not yet +lighted it up. At length she spoke in the darkness, her heart filled to +overflowing with her great happiness: + +“Oh, my dear seigneur, how I love you, and how grateful I am to you!” + +She laughed aloud at the realisation of the fact that at last she knew +him; she thanked him for being younger, more beautiful, and richer even +than she had expected him to be. Her gaiety was charming; it was a +cry of astonishment and of gratitude before this present of love, this +fulfillment of her dreams. + +“You are the king. You are my master; and lo! here am I, your slave. I +belong to you henceforth, and my only regret is that I am of so little +worth. But I am proud of being yours; it is sufficient for you to love +me, and that I may be in my turn a queen. It was indeed well that I knew +you were to come, and so waited for you; my heart is overflowing with +joy since finding that you are so great, so far above me. Ah! my dear +seigneur, how I thank you, and how I love you.” + +Gently he put his arm around her as he said: + +“Come and see where I live.” + +He made her cross the Clos-Marie, among the wild grass and herbs, and +then she understood for the first time in what way he had come every +night into the field from the park of the Bishop’s Palace. It was +through an old gate, that had been unused for a long time, and which +this evening he had left half open. Taking Angelique’s hand, he led her +in that way into the great garden of the Monseigneur. + +The rising moon was half-hidden in the sky, under a veil of warm mist, +and its rays fell down upon them with a white, mysterious light. There +were no stars visible, but the whole vault of heaven was filled with a +dim lustre, which quietly penetrated everything in this serene night. +Slowly they walked along on the borders of the Chevrotte, which crossed +the park; but it was no longer the rapid rivulet rushing over a pebbly +descent--it was a quiet, languid brook, gliding along through clumps +of trees. Under this mass of luminous vapour, between the bushes which +seemed to bathe and float therein, it was like an Elysian stream which +unfolded itself before them. + +Angelique soon resumed her gay chattering. + +“I am so proud and so happy to be here on your arm.” + +Felicien, touched by such artless, frank simplicity, listened with +delight as she talked unrestrainedly, concealing nothing, but telling +all her inmost thoughts, as she opened her heart to him. Why should she +even think of keeping anything back? She had never harmed anyone, so she +had only good things to say. + +“Ah, my dear child, it is I who ought to be exceedingly grateful to you, +inasmuch as you are willing to love me a little in so sweet a way. Tell +me once more how much you love me. Tell me exactly what you thought when +you found out at last who I really was.” + +But with a pretty, impatient movement she interrupted him. + +“No, no; let us talk of you, only of you. Am I really of any +consequence? At all events, what matters it who I am or what I think! +For the moment you are the only one of importance.” + +And keeping as near him as possible, going more slowly along the sides +of the enchanted river, she questioned him incessantly, wishing to learn +everything about him, of his childhood, his youth, and the twenty years +he had passed away from his father. “I already know that your mother +died when you were an infant, and that you grew up under the care of an +uncle who is a clergyman. I also know that Monseigneur refused to see +you again.” + +Then Felicien answered, speaking in a very low tone, with a voice that +seemed as if it came from the far-away past. + +“Yes, my father idolised my mother, and it seemed to him as if I were +guilty, since my birth had cost her her life. My uncle brought me up +in entire ignorance of my family, harshly too, as if I had been a poor +child confided to his care. I had no idea of my true position until very +recently. It is scarcely two years, in fact, since it was revealed to +me. But I was not at all surprised in hearing the truth; it seemed as +if I had always half-realised that a great fortune belonged to me. All +regular work wearied me; I was good for nothing except to run about the +fields and amuse myself. At last I took a great fancy for the painted +windows of our little church.” Angelique interrupted him by laughing +gaily, and he joined her in her mirth for a moment. + +“I became a workman like yourself. I had fully decided to earn my living +by painting on glass, and was studying for that purpose, when all this +fortune poured down upon me. My father was intensely disappointed when +my uncle wrote him that I was a good-for-nothing fellow, and that I +would never consent to enter into the service of the Church. It had been +his expressed wish that I should become a clergyman; perhaps he had +an idea that in so doing I could atone for the death of my mother. He +became, however, reconciled at last, and wished for me to be here +and remain near him. Ah! how good it is to live, simply to live,” he +exclaimed. “Yes, to live, to love, and to be loved in return.” + +This trembling cry, which resounded in the clear night air, vibrated +with the earnest feeling of his healthy youth. It was full of passion, +of sympathy for his dead mother, and of the intense ardour he had thrown +into this, his first love, born of mystery. It filled all his spirit, +his beauty, his loyalty, his ignorance, and his earnest desire of life. + +“Like you,” he continued, “I was, indeed, expecting the unknown, and the +evening when you first appeared at the window I also recognised you at +once. Tell me all that you have ever thought, and what you were in the +habit of doing in the days that have passed.” But again she refused, +saying gently: + +“No; speak only of yourself. I am eager to know every petty incident of +your life, so please keep nothing back. In that way I shall realise +that you belong to me, and that I love you in the past as well as in the +present.” + +She never would have been fatigued in listening to him as he talked +of his life, but was in a state of joyous ecstasy in thus becoming +thoroughly acquainted with him, adoring him like a little child at +the feet of some saint. Neither of them wearied of repeating the same +things: how much they loved each other and how dearly they were beloved +in return. The same words returned constantly to their lips, but they +always seemed new, as they assumed unforeseen, immeasurable depths of +meaning. Their happiness increased as they thus made known the secrets +of their hearts, and lingered over the music of the words that passed +their lips. He confessed to her the charm her voice had always been +to him, so much so that as soon as he heard it he became at once her +devoted slave. She acknowledged the delicious fear she always had at +seeing his pale face flush at the slightest anger or displeasure. + +They had now left the misty banks of the Chevrotte, and arm-in-arm they +entered under the shadows of the great elm-trees. + +“Oh! this beautiful garden,” whispered Angelique, happy to breathe in +the freshness which fell from the trees. “For years I have wished to +enter it; and now I am here with you--yes, I am here.” + +It did not occur to her to ask him where he was leading her, but she +gave herself up to his guidance, under the darkness of these centenarian +trees. The ground was soft under their feet; the archway of leaves above +them was high, like the vaulted ceiling of a church. There was neither +sound nor breath, only the beating of their own hearts. + +At length he pushed open the door of a little pavilion, and said to her: +“Go in; this is my home.” + +It was there that his father had seen fit to install him all by himself, +in this distant corner of the park. On the first floor there was a hall, +and one very large room, which was now lighted by a great lamp. Above +was a complete little apartment. + +“You can see for yourself,” he continued smilingly, “that you are at the +house of an artisan. This is my shop.” + +It was a working-room indeed; the caprice of a wealthy young man, +who amused himself in his leisure hours by painting on glass. He had +re-found the ancient methods of the thirteenth century, so that he could +fancy himself as being one of the primitive glass-workers, producing +masterpieces with the poor, unfinished means of the older time. An +ancient table answered all his purposes. It was coated with moist, +powdered chalk, upon which he drew his designs in red, and where he +cut the panes with heated irons, disdaining the modern use of a diamond +point. The muffle, a little furnace made after the fashion of an old +model, was just now quite heated; the baking of some picture was going +on, which was to be used in repairing another stained window in the +Cathedral; and in cases on every side were glasses of all colours which +he had ordered to be made expressly for him, in blue, yellow, green, and +red, in many lighter tints, marbled, smoked, shaded, pearl-coloured, and +black. But the walls of the room were hung with admirable stuffs, and +the working materials disappeared in the midst of a marvellous luxury +of furniture. In one corner, on an old tabernacle which served as a +pedestal, a great gilded statue of the Blessed Virgin seemed to smile +upon them. + +“So you can work--you really can work,” repeated Angelique with childish +joy. + +She was very much amused with the little furnace, and insisted upon it +that he should explain to her everything connected with his labour. +Why he contented himself with the examples of the old masters, who used +glass coloured in the making, which he shaded simply with black; the +reason he limited himself to little, distinct figures, to the gestures +and draperies of which he gave a decided character; his ideas upon the +art of the glass-workers, which in reality declined as soon as they +began to design better, to paint, and to enamel it; and his final +opinion that a stained-glass window should be simply a transparent +mosaic, in which the brightest colours should be arranged in the most +harmonious order, so as to make a delicate, shaded bouquet. But at this +moment little did she care for the art in itself. These things had but +one interest for her now--that they were connected with him, that they +seemed to bring her nearer to him and to strengthen the tie between +them. + +“Oh!” she exclaimed, “how happy we shall be together. You will paint, +while I embroider.” + +He had just retaken her hands, in the centre of this great room, in +the luxury of which she was quite at her ease, as it seemed to be her +natural surrounding, where her grace would be fully developed. Both of +them remained silent for a moment. Then she was, as usual, the first to +speak. + +“Now everything is decided upon, is it not?” + +“What?” he smilingly asked, “what do you mean?” + +“Our marriage.” + +He hesitated an instant. His face, which had been very pale, flushed +quickly. She was disturbed at such a change. + +“Have I made you angry in any way?” + +But he had already conquered himself, and pressed her hands tenderly, +with a grasp that seemed to cover everything. + +“Yes, it is decided upon, and it is sufficient for you to wish for a +thing that it should be done, no matter how many obstacles may oppose +it. Henceforward my one great desire in life will be to obey you.” + +Then her face beamed with perfect happiness and delight. + +She did not have a single doubt. All seemed to her quite natural, to be +so well-arranged that it could be finished on the morrow with the same +ease as in many of the miracles of the “Golden Legend.” The idea never +occurred to her that there should be the slightest hindrance or the +least delay. Since they really loved each other, why should they be +any longer separated? It was the most simple thing in the world for two +persons who loved each other to be married. She was so secure in her +happiness that she was perfectly calm. + +“Since it is agreed upon,” she said jokingly, “give me your hand.” + +He took her little hand and kissed it, as he said: + +“It is all arranged.” + +She then hastened to go away, in the fear of being surprised by the +dawn, and also impatient to relieve her mind of her secret. He wished to +accompany her. + +“No, no,” she replied. “We should not get back before daylight. I can +easily find the way. Good-bye until to-morrow.” + +“Until to-morrow, then.” + +Felicien obeyed, and watched Angelique as she ran, first under the shady +elms, then along the banks of the Chevrotte, which were now bathed in +light. Soon she closed the gate of the park, then darted across the +Clos-Marie, through the high grass. While on her way, she thought it +would be impossible to wait until sunrise, but that she would rap at the +door of the Huberts’ room as soon as she reached home, that she might +wake them up and tell them everything. She was in such an expansion of +happiness, such a turmoil of sincerity, that she realised that she was +incapable of keeping five minutes longer this great secret which had +been hers for so long a time. She entered into their garden and closed +the gate. + +And there, near the Cathedral, Angelique saw Hubertine, who waited for +her in the night, seated upon the stone bench, which was surrounded by +a small cluster of lilac-bushes. Awakened, warned by some inexpressible +feeling, she had gone upstairs, then down again, and on finding all the +doors open, that of the chamber as well as that of the house, she had +understood what had happened. So, uncertain what it was best to do, or +where to go, in the fear lest she might aggravate matters, she sat down +anxiously. + +Angelique immediately ran to her, without embarrassment, kissed her +repeatedly, her heart beating with joy as she laughed merrily at the +thought that she had no longer need of hiding anything from her. + +“Oh, mother mine, everything is arranged! We are to be married very +soon, and I am so happy.” + +Before replying, Hubertine examined her closely. But her fears vanished +instantly before the limpid eyes and the pure lips of this exquisite +young girl. Yet she was deeply troubled, and great tears rolled down her +cheeks. + +“My poor, dear child,” she whispered, as she had done the previous +evening in church. + +Astonished to see her in such a way, she who was always so equable, who +never wept, Angelique exclaimed: + +“But what is the matter, mother? It is, indeed, true that I have not +done right, inasmuch as I have not made you my confidante. But you would +pardon me if you knew how much I have suffered from it, and how keen +my remorse has been. Since at first I did not speak, later on I did not +dare to break the silence. Will you forgive me?” + +She had seated herself near her mother, and had placed her arm +caressingly around her waist. The old bench seemed almost hidden in this +moss-covered corner of the Cathedral. Above their heads the lilacs made +a little shade, while near them was the bush of eglantine which the +young girl had set out in the hope that it might bear roses; but, having +been neglected for some time, it simply vegetated, and had returned to +its natural state. + +“Mother, let me tell you everything now. Come, listen to me, please.” + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Then, in a low tone, Angelique began her story. She related in a flow +of inexhaustible words all that had happened, calling up the most minute +details, growing more and more excited at the recollection of them. She +omitted nothing, but searched her memory as if it were for a confession. +She was not at all embarrassed, although her cheeks grew very red and +her eyes sparkled with flashes of pride; yet she did not raise her +voice, but continued to talk earnestly in a half-whisper. + +At length Hubertine interrupted her, speaking also very low: + +“Ah, my dear! Now you are too excited. You have indeed to correct +yourself, for you are carried away by your feelings, as if by a great +wind. Ah, my vain, my headstrong child, you are always the same little +girl who refused to wash up the kitchen floor, and who kissed her own +hands.” + +Angelique could not prevent herself from laughing. + +“No, do not laugh. It may be that by-and-by you will not have tears +enough to weep. My poor darling, this marriage can never take place.” + +Again her gaiety burst out in a long musical laugh. + +“But mother, mother, what are you saying? Do you wish to punish me by +teasing me? It is a very simple matter. This evening Felicien is to talk +of it with his father. To-morrow he will come to arrange everything with +you.” + +Could it be true that she believed all this? Hubertine was distressed, +and knew not what to do. At last she concluded it was best to be +pitiless and tell her; that it would be impossible for a little +embroiderer without money and without name to marry Felicien +d’Hautecœur. A young man who was worth so many millions! The last +descendant of one of the oldest families of France! No, that could never +be. + +But at each new obstacle Angelique tranquilly replied: “But why not?” + It would be a real scandal, a marriage beyond all ordinary conditions +of happiness. Did she hope, then, to contend against all the world? “But +why not?” Monseigneur is called very strict and very haughty, proud +of his name, and severe in his criticisms in regard to all marks of +affection. Could she dare to expect to bend him? + +“But why not?” And, unshakable in her faith, in her firm, ingenuous +manner she said: “It is very odd, dear mother, that you should think +people all so bad! Especially when I have just assured you that +everything is well under way, and is sure to come out all right. Do you +not recollect that only two months ago you scolded me, and ridiculed +my plans? Yet I was right, and everything that I expected has come to +pass.” + +“But, unhappy child, wait for the end!” + +Hubertine now thought of the past, and was angry with herself, as she +now reflected, more bitterly than ever before, that Angelique had +been brought up in such ignorance. Again she predicted to her the +hard lessons of the reality of life, and she would have liked to have +explained to her some of the cruelties and abominations of the world, +but, greatly embarrassed, she could not find the necessary words. What +a grief it would be to her if some day she were forced to accuse herself +of having brought about the unhappiness of this child, who had been kept +alone as a recluse, and allowed to dwell in the continued falsehood of +imagination and dreams! + +“Listen to me, dearest. You certainly would not wish to marry this young +man against the wish of us all, and without the consent of his father?” + +Angelique had grown very serious. She looked her mother in the face, and +in a serious tone replied: + +“Why should I not do so? I love him, and he loves me.” + +With a pang of anguish, Hubertine took her again in her arms, clasped +her tenderly, but convulsively, and looked at her earnestly, but without +speaking. The pale moon had disappeared from sight behind the Cathedral, +and the flying, misty clouds were now delicately coloured in the heavens +by the approach of the dawn. They were both of them enveloped in this +purity of the early morn, in the great fresh silence, which was alone +disturbed by the little chirping of the just-awakening birds. + +“But alas! my dear child, happiness is only found in obedience and in +humility. For one little hour of passion, or of pride, we sometimes are +obliged to suffer all our lives. If you wish to be contented on this +earth, be submissive, be ready to renounce and give up everything.” + +But feeling that she was still rebellious under her embrace, that which +she had never said to anyone, that which she still hesitated to speak +of, almost involuntarily escaped from her lips: + +“Listen to me once more, my dear child. You think that we are happy, +do you not, your father and I. We should indeed be so had not our lives +been embittered by a great vexation.” + +She lowered her voice still more, as she related with a trembling breath +their history. The marriage without the consent of her mother, the death +of their infant, and their vain desire to have another child, which was +evidently the punishment of their fault. Still, they adored each other. +They had lived by working, had wanted for nothing; but their regret for +the child they had lost was so ever-present that they would have been +wretchedly unhappy, would have quarrelled, and perhaps even have been +separated, had it not been that her husband was so thoroughly good, +while for herself she had always tried to be just and reasonable. + +“Reflect, my daughter. Do not put any stumbling-block in your path which +will make you suffer later on. Be humble, obey, check the impulse of +your heart as much as possible.” + +Subdued at last, Angelique restrained her tears, but grew very pale as +she listened, and interrupted her by saying: + +“Mother, you pain me terribly. I love him, and I am sure that he loves +me.” + +Then she allowed her tears to flow. She was quite overcome by all she +had listened to, softened, and with an expression in her eyes as if +deeply wounded by the glimpse given her of the probable truth of the +case. Yet she could suffer, and would willingly die, if need be, for her +love. + +Then Hubertine decided to continue. + +“I do not wish to pain you too deeply at once, yet it is absolutely +necessary that you should know the whole truth. Last evening, after you +had gone upstairs, I had quite a talk with the Abbé Cornille, and he +explained to me why Monseigneur, after great hesitation, had at last +decided to call his son to Beaumont. One of his greatest troubles was +the impetuosity of the young man, the uncontrollable haste which he +manifested to plunge into the excitement of life, without listening to +the advice of his elders. After having with pain renounced all hope of +making him a priest, his father found that he could not establish him in +any occupation suitable to his rank and his fortune. He would never be +anything but a headstrong fellow, restless, wandering, yielding to his +artistic tastes when so inclined. He was alarmed at seeing in his son +traits of character like those from which he himself had so cruelly +suffered. At last, from fear that he might take some foolish step, and +fall in love with someone beneath him in position, he wished to have him +here, that he might be married at once.” + +“Very well,” said Angelique, who did not yet understand. + +“Such a marriage had been proposed even before his arrival, and all +preliminaries were settled yesterday, so that the Abbé Cornille formally +announced that in the autumn Felicien would wed Mademoiselle Claire de +Voincourt. You know very well the Hotel de Voincourt there, close to the +Bishop’s Palace. The family are very intimate with Monseigneur. On both +sides, nothing better could be hoped for, either in the way of name or +of fortune. The Abbé himself highly approves of the union.” + +The young girl no longer listened to these reasons of the fitness of +things. Suddenly an image appeared to come before her eyes--that of +Claire. She saw her, as she had occasionally had a glimpse of her in +the alleys of the Park during the winter, or as she had seen her on fête +days in the Cathedral. A tall young lady, a brunette, very handsome, of +a much more striking beauty than her own, and with a royal bearing and +appearance. Notwithstanding her haughty air, she was said to be very +good and kind. + +“So he is to marry this elegant young lady, who is not only beautiful +but very rich,” she murmured. + +Then, as if suddenly pierced by a sharp agony, she exclaimed: + +“He uttered a falsehood! He did not tell me this!” + +She recollected now the momentary hesitation of Felicien, the rush +of blood which had coloured his cheeks when she spoke to him of their +marriage. The shock was so great that she turned deadly pale, and her +head fell heavily on her mother’s shoulders. + +“My darling, my dear darling! This is, indeed, a cruel thing; I know it +well. But it would have been still worse had you waited. Take courage, +then, and draw at once the knife from the wound. Repeat to yourself, +whenever the thought of this young man comes to you, that never would +Monseigneur, the terrible Jean XII., whose intractable pride, it appears, +is still recollected by all the world, give his son, the last of his +race, to a little embroiderer, found under a gateway and adopted by poor +people like ourselves.” + +In her weakness, Angelique heard all this without making any objection. +What was it she felt pass over her face? A cold breath coming from a +distance, from far above the roofs of the houses, seemed to freeze her +blood. Was it true that her mother was telling her of this misery of the +world, this sad reality, in the same way that parents relate the story +of the wolf to unreasonable children? She would never forget the shock +and the grief of this first experience of a bitter disappointment. Yet, +however, she already excused Felicien. He had told no falsehood; he +simply had been silent. Were his father to wish him to marry this young +girl, no doubt he would refuse to do so. But as yet he had not dared to +rebel. As he had not said anything to her of the matter, perhaps it was +because he had just made up his mind as to what it was best for him to +do. Before this sudden vanishing away of her air-castles, pale and weak +from the rude touch of the actual life, she still kept her faith, +and trusted, in spite of all, in the future realisation of her dream. +Eventually the fair promises for the future would come to pass, even +although now her pride was crushed and she sank down into a state of +humiliation and resignation. + +“Mother, it is true I have done wrong, but I will never sin again. I +promise you that I will be patient, and submit myself without a murmur +of revolt to whatever Heaven wishes me to be.” + +It was true grace which spoke within her. The trial was great, but she +was able to conquer, from the effects of the education she had received +and the excellent example of the home life in which she had grown up. +Why should she doubt the morrow, when until this present moment everyone +near her had been so generous and so tender towards her? She prayed +that she might be able to have the wisdom of Catherine, the meekness +of Elizabeth, the chastity of Agnes; and re-comforted by the aid of +the saints, she was sure that they alone would help her to triumph over +every trouble. Was it not true that her old friends the Cathedral, the +Clos-Marie, and the Chevrotte, the little fresh house of the Huberts, +the Huberts themselves, all who loved her, would defend her, without her +being obliged to do anything, except to be obedient and good? + +“Then, dear child, you promise me that you will never act contrary to +our wishes, and above all against those of Monseigneur?” + +“Yes, mother, I promise.” + +“You also promise me not to see this young man again, and no longer to +indulge in the foolish idea of marrying him?” + +At this question her courage failed her. She almost felt the spirit +of rebellion rise again within her, as she thought of the depth of her +love. But in a moment she bowed her head and was definitely conquered. + +“I promise to do nothing to bring about a meeting with him, and to take +no steps towards our marriage.” + +Hubertine, touched to the heart, pressed the young girl most +affectionately in her arms as she thanked her for her obedience. Oh! +what a dreadful thing it was, when wishing to do good to the child she +so tenderly loved, she was forced to make her suffer so intensely. She +was exhausted, and rose up hastily, surprised that daylight had come. +The little cry of the birds had increased in every direction, although +as yet none were to be seen in flight. In the sky the clouds, delicate +as gauze, seemed to float away in the limpid blueness of the atmosphere. + +Then Angelique, whose look had mechanically fallen upon her wild +rose-bush, at last noticed it with its puny leaves. She smiled sadly as +she said: + +“You were right, mother dear; it will never be in blossom.” + +At seven o’clock in the morning Angelique was at her work as usual. The +days followed each other, and every forenoon found her seated before the +chasuble she had left on the previous evening. Nothing appeared to be +changed outwardly; she kept strictly her promise, shut herself up, and +made no attempt whatever to see Felicien. This did not seem to depress +her at all, but she kept her bright, youthful look, smiling sweetly +at Hubertine when occasionally she saw her eyes fixed upon her as if +astonished. However, in this enforced silence she thought only of him; +he was always in her mind. + +Her hope remained firm, and she was sure that in spite of all obstacles +everything would come out all right in the end. In fact, it was this +feeling of certainty that gave her such an air of courage, of haughty +rectitude, and of justice. + +Hubert from time to time scolded her. + +“You are over-doing, my dear; you are really growing pale. I hope at +least that you sleep well at night.” + +“Oh yes, father! Like a log! Never in my life did I feel better than +now.” + +But Hubertine, becoming anxious in her turn, proposed that they should +take a little vacation, and said: + +“If you would like it, my child, we will shut up the house, and we will +go, all three of us, to Paris for a while.” + +“Oh! mother mine, of what are you thinking? What would become of all our +orders for work? You know I am never in better health than when closely +occupied.” + +In reality, Angelique simply awaited a miracle, some manifestation of +the Invisible which would give her to Felicien. In addition to the +fact that she had promised to do nothing, what need was there of her +striving, since in the beyond some unknown power was always working for +her? So, in her voluntary inaction, while feigning indifference, she was +continually on the watch, listening to the voices of all that quivered +around her, and to the little familiar sounds of this circle in which +she lived and which would assuredly help her. Something must eventually +come from necessity. As she leaned over her embroidery-frame, not far +from the open window, she lost not a trembling of the leaves, not a +murmur of the Chevrotte. The slightest sighs from the Cathedral came to +her, magnified tenfold by the eagerness of her attention; she even heard +the slippers of the beadle as he walked round the altar when putting +out the tapers. Again at her side she felt the light touch of mysterious +wings; she knew that she was aided by the unknown, and at times she even +turned suddenly, thinking that a phantom had whispered in her ear the +way of gaining the hoped-for victory. But days passed and no change +came. + +At night, that she need not break her word, Angelique at first did not +go out upon the balcony, for fear of being tempted to rejoin Felicien, +were she to see him below her. She remained quietly waiting in her +chamber. Then, as the leaves even scarcely stirred, but seemed to sleep, +she ventured out, and began to question the dark shadows as before. + +From whence would the miracle come? Without doubt, in the Bishop’s +garden would be seen a flaming hand, which would beckon to her to +approach. + +Or, perhaps, the sign would appear in the Cathedral, the great organs of +which would peal forth, and would call her to the altar. + +Nothing would have surprised her: neither the doves of the “Golden +Legend” bringing the words of benediction, nor the intervention of +saints, who would enter through the walls, to tell her that Monseigneur +wished to see her. The only thing at which she wondered was the slowness +of the working of the marvel. Like the day, the nights succeeded nights, +yet nothing, nothing manifested itself. + +At the close of the second week, that which astonished Angelique above +all was that she had not seen Felicien. She, it was true, had pledged +herself to take no steps towards meeting him, yet, without having said +so to anyone, she thought he would do all in his power to find her. But +the Clos-Marie remained deserted, and he no longer walked among the +wild grasses therein. Not once during the past fortnight had she had a +glimpse of him by day, or even seen his shadow in the evening. Still +her faith remained unshaken; that he did not come was simply that he +was occupied in making his preparations to rejoin her. However, as her +surprise increased there was at length mingled with it a beginning of +anxiety. + +At last, one evening the dinner was sad at the embroiderer’s, and as +soon as it was over Hubert went out, under the pretext of having an +important commission to attend to, so Hubertine remained alone with +Angelique in the kitchen. She looked at her for a long time with +moistened eyes, touched by such courage. During the past fortnight not +one word had been exchanged between them in reference to those things +with which their hearts were full, and she was deeply moved by the +strength of character and loyalty her daughter displayed in thus keeping +her promise. A sudden feeling of deep tenderness made her open her arms, +and the young girl threw herself upon her breast, and in silence they +clasped each other in a loving embrace. + +Then, when Hubertine was able to speak, she said: + +“Ah! my poor child, I have been impatient to be alone with you, for you +must know that now all is at an end; yes, quite at an end.” + +Startled, Angelique rose quickly, exclaiming: + +“What! Is Felicien dead?” + +“No! oh no!” + +“If he will never come again, it is only that he is dead.” + +So Hubertine was obliged to explain to her that the day after the +procession she had been to see him, and had made him also promise that +he would keep way from them until he had the full authorisation of +Monseigneur to do otherwise. It was thus a definite leave-taking, for +she knew a marriage would be utterly impossible. She had made him almost +distracted as she explained to him how wrongly he had done in thus +compromising a young, ignorant, confiding child, whom he would not be +allowed to make his wife; and then he had assured her, that if he could +not see her again, he would die from grief, rather than be disloyal. + +That same evening he confessed everything to his father. + +“You see, my dear,” continued Hubertine, “you are so courageous that I +can repeat to you all I know without hesitation. Oh! if you realised, my +darling, how I pity you, and what admiration I have for you since I have +found you so strong, so brave in keeping silent and in appearing gay +when your heart was heavily burdened. But you will have need of even +more firmness; yes, much more, my dear. This afternoon I have seen the +Abbé Cornille, and he gives me no encouragement whatever. Monseigneur +refuses to listen to the subject, so there is no more hope.” + +She expected a flood of fears, and she was astonished to see her +daughter reseat herself tranquilly, although she had turned very pale. +The old oaken table had been cleared, and a lamp lighted up this ancient +servants’ hall, the quiet of which was only disturbed by the humming of +the boiler. + +“Mother, dear, the end has not yet come. Tell me everything, I beg of +you. Have I not a right to know all, since I am the one above all others +most deeply interested in the matter?” + +And she listened attentively to what Hubertine thought best to tell her +of what she had learned from the Abbé, keeping back only certain details +of the life which was as yet an unknown thing to this innocent child. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Since the return of his son to him Monseigneur’s days had been full of +trouble. After having banished him from his presence almost immediately +upon the death of his wife, and remaining without seeing him for twenty +years, lo! he had now come back to him in the plenitude and lustre of +youth, the living portrait of the one he had so mourned, with the same +delicate grace and beauty. This long exile, this resentment against +a child whose life had cost that of the mother, was also an act of +prudence. He realised it doubly now, and regretted that he had changed +his determination of not seeing him again. Age, twenty years of prayer, +his life as clergyman, had not subdued the unregenerate man within him. +It was simply necessary that this son of his, this child of the wife he +had so adored, should appear with his laughing blue eyes, to make the +blood circulate so rapidly in his veins as if it would burst them, as he +seemed to think that the dead had been brought to life again. He struck +his breast, he sobbed bitterly in penitence, as he remembered that the +joys of married life and the ties springing therefrom were prohibited +to the priesthood. The good Abbé Cornille had spoken of all this to +Hubertine in a low voice and with trembling lips. Mysterious sounds had +been heard, and it was whispered that Monseigneur shut himself up +after twilight, and passed nights of combat, of tears and of cries, the +violence of which, although partly stifled by the hangings of his room, +yet frightened the members of his household. He thought that he had +forgotten; that he had conquered passion; but it reappeared with the +violence of a tempest, reminding him of the terrible man he had been +formerly--the bold adventurer, the descendant of brave, legendary +chieftains. Each evening on his knees he flayed his skin with haircloth, +he tried to banish the phantom of the regretted wife by calling from its +coffin the skeleton which must now be there. But she constantly appeared +before him, living, in the delicious freshness of youth, such as she +was when very young he had first met her and loved her with the devoted +affection of maturity. The torture then recommenced as keen and intense +as on the day after her death: he mourned her, he longed for her with +the same revolt against God Who had taken her from him; he was unable to +calm himself until the break of day, when quite exhausted by contempt of +himself and disgust of all the world. Oh! Divine love! When he went out +of his room Monseigneur resumed his severe attitude, his expression was +calm and haughty, and his face was only slightly pale. The morning +when Felicien had made his confession he listened to him without +interruption, controlling himself with so great an effort that not a +fibre of his body quivered, and he looked earnestly at him, distressed +beyond measure to see him, so young, so handsome, so eager, and so +like himself in this folly of impetuous love. It was no longer with +bitterness, but it was his absolute will, his hard duty to save his +son from the ills which had caused him so much suffering, and he would +destroy the passion in his child as he wished to kill it in himself. +This romantic history ended by giving him great anxiety. Could it be +true that a poor girl--a child without a name, a little embroiderer, +first seen under a pale ray of moonlight, had been transfigured into a +delicate Virgin of the Legends, and adored with a fervent love as if in +a dream? At each new acknowledgment he thought his anger was increased, +as his heart beat with such an inordinate emotion, and he redoubled his +attempts at self-control, knowing not what cry might come to his lips. +He had finished by replying with a single word, “Never!” Then Felicien +threw himself on his knees before him, implored him, and pleaded his +cause as well as that of Angelique, in the trembling of respect and of +terror with which the sight of his father always filled him. Until then +he had approached him only with fear. He besought him not to oppose +his happiness, without even daring to lift his eyes towards his saintly +personage. With a submissive voice he offered to go away, no matter +where; to leave all his great fortune to the Church, and to take his +wife so far from there that they would never be seen again. He only +wished to love and to be loved, unknown. Monseigneur shook from +trembling as he repeated severely the word, “Never!” He had pledged +himself to the Voincourts, and he would never break his engagement +with them. Then Felicien, quite discouraged, realising that he was very +angry, went away, fearing lest the rush of blood, which empurpled his +cheeks, might make him commit the sacrilege of an open revolt against +paternal authority. + +“My child,” concluded Hubertine, “you can easily understand that you +must no longer think of this young man, for you certainly would not +wish to act in opposition to the wishes of Monseigneur. I knew that +beforehand, but I preferred that the facts should speak for themselves, +and that no obstacle should appear to come from me.” + +Angelique had listened to all this calmly, with her hands listlessly +clasped in her lap. Scarcely had she even dropped her eyelids from +time to time, as with fixed looks she saw the scene so vividly +described--Felicien at the feet of Monseigneur, speaking of her in an +overflow of tenderness. She did not answer immediately, but continued to +think seriously, in the dead quiet of the kitchen, where even the little +bubbling sound of the water in the boiler was no longer heard. She +lowered her eyes and looked as her hands, which, under the lamplight, +seemed as if made of beautiful ivory. Then, while the smile of perfect +confidence came back to her lips, she said simply: + +“If Monseigneur refuses, it is because he waits to know me.” + +That night Angelique slept but little. The idea that to see her would +enable at once Monseigneur to decide in her favor haunted her. There was +in it no personal, feminine vanity, but she was under the influence of a +deep, intense love, and her true affection for Felicien was so evident, +she was sure that when his father realised it he could not be so +obstinate as to make them both unhappy. Many times she turned restlessly +in her bed as she pictured what would happen. Before her closed eyes +Monseigneur constantly passed in his violet-coloured robe. Perhaps it +was, indeed, through him, and by him, that the expected miracle was to +appear. The warm night was sleeping without, and she eagerly listened +for the voices, trying to know what the trees, the Chevrotte, the +Cathedral, her chamber itself, peopled with such friendly shadows, +advised her to do. But there was only an indistinct humming, and nothing +precise came to her. It seemed, however, as if mysterious whispers +encouraged her to persevere. At last she grew impatient of these too +slow certitudes, and as she fell asleep she surprised herself by saying: + +“To-morrow I will speak to Monseigneur.” + +When she awoke, her proposed plan seemed not only quite natural but +necessary. It was ingenuous and brave; born of a proud and great purity. + +She knew that at five o’clock on every Saturday afternoon Monseigneur +went to kneel in the Chapel Hautecœur, where he liked to pray alone, +giving himself up entirely to the past of his race and to himself, +seeking a solitude which was respected by all connected with the +Cathedral. As it fortunately happened, this was a Saturday. She quickly +came to a decision. At the Bishop’s Palace, not only would she be apt +to find it difficult to be received, but, on the other hand, there were +always so many people about she would be ill at ease; whilst it would +be so simple to await him in the chapel, and to introduce herself to +Monseigneur as soon as he appeared. That day she embroidered with her +usual application and composure. Firm in her wish, sure of doing the +right thing, she had no impatient fever of expectation. When it was +four o’clock she spoke of going to see the _mère_ Gabet, and went out, +dressed as for an ordinary walk, wearing her little garden-hat tied +carelessly under her chin. She turned to the left, and pushing open +the linted, stuffed door of the portal of Saint Agnes, let it fall back +heavily behind her. + +The church was empty; alone, the confessional of Saint Joseph was still +occupied by a penitent, the edge of whose black dress was just seen as +one passed. Angelique, who had been perfectly self-possessed until now, +began to tremble as she entered this sacred, cold solitude, where even +the little sound of her steps seemed to echo terribly. Why was it that +her heart grew so oppressed? She had thought she was quite strong, and +the day had passed most peacefully--she was so sure of being right in +her desire to be happy. But now that she was ignorant of what might +happen she turned pale as if guilty, quite frightened at thinking +that she was to see Monseigneur, and that in truth she had come there +expressly to speak to him. She went quietly to the Chapel Hautecœur, +where she was obliged to remain leaning against the gate. + +This chapel was one of the most sunken and dark of the old Romanesque +apse. Like a cave hewn in a rock, straight and bare, with the simple +lines of its low, vaulted ceiling, it had but one window, that of +stained glass, on which was the Legend of St. George, and in whose panes +the red and blue so predominated that they made a lilac-coloured light, +as if it were twilight. The altar, in black and white marble, was +unornamented, and the whole place, with its picture of the Crucifixion, +and its two chandeliers, seemed like a tomb. The walls were covered +with commemorative tablets, a collection from top to bottom of stones +crumbling from age, on which the deeply-cut inscriptions could still be +read. + +Almost stifled, Angelique waited, motionless. A beadle passed, who +did not even see her, so closely had she pressed herself against the +interior of the iron railing. She still saw the dress of the penitent +who was at the confessional near the entrance. Her eyes, gradually +accustomed to the half-light, were mechanically fixed upon the +inscriptions, the characters of which she ended by deciphering. Certain +names struck her, calling back to her memory the legends of the Château +d’Hautecœur, of Jean V. le Grand, of Raoul III., and of Hervé VII.. + +She soon found two others, those of Laurette and of Balbine, which +brought tears to her eyes, so nervous was she from trouble and +anxiety--Laurette, who fell from a ray of moonlight, on her way to +rejoin her betrothed, and Balbine, who died from sudden joy at the +return of her husband, whom she thought had been killed in the war. +They both of them came back at night and enveloped the Castle with their +immense, flowing white robes. Had she not seen them herself the day of +their visit to the ruins, as they floated, towards evening, above the +towers in the rosy pallor of the dusk? Ah! how willingly she would die +as they did, although but sixteen years of age, in the supreme happiness +of the realisation of her dream! + +A loud noise which reverberated under the arches made her tremble. It +was the priest who came out from the confessional of Saint Joseph and +shut the door after him. She was surprised at no longer seeing the +penitent, who had already gone. And when in his turn the clergyman went +out by way of the sacristy, she realised that she was absolutely alone +in the vast solitude of the Cathedral. At the loud sound of the door +of the confessional, as it creaked on its hinges, she thought that +Monseigneur was coming. It was nearly half an hour since she had +expected him, yet she did not realise it, for her excitement prevented +her from taking any note of time. + +Soon a new name drew her eyes towards the tablets--Felicien III., who +went to Palestine, carrying a candle in his hand, to fulfil a vow of +Philippe le Bel. And her heart beat with pride as she saw before +her, mentally, the youthful Felicien VII, the descendant of all these +worthies, the fair-haired nobleman whom she adored, and by whom she was +so tenderly loved. She suddenly became filled with pride and fear. Was +it possible that she herself was there, in the expectation of bringing +about a prodigy? Opposite her there was a fresher plaque of marble, +dating from the last century, the black letters upon which she could +easily read. Norbert Louis Ogier, Marquis d’Hautecœur, Prince of +Mirande and of Rouvres, Count of Ferrierès, of Montegu and of Saint +Marc, and also of Villemareuil, Chevalier of the four Royal Orders +of Saint Esprit, Saint Michel, Notre Dame de Carmel and Saint Louis, +Lieutenant in the Army of the King, Governor of Normandy, holding office +as Captain-General of the Hunting, and Master of the Hounds. All these +were the titles of Felicien’s grandfather, and yet she had come, so +simple, with her working-dress and her fingers worn by the needle, in +hopes of marrying the grandson of this dead dignitary! + +There was a slight sound, scarcely a rustling, on the flagstones. She +turned and saw Monseigneur, and remained motionless at this silent +approach without the pomp and surroundings she had vaguely expected. +He entered into the chapel, tall, erect, and noble-looking, dressed in +purple, with his pale face, his rather large nose, and his superb eyes, +which still seemed youthful in their expression. At first he did not +notice her against the black gate. Then, as he was about to kneel down, +he saw her before him at his feet. + +With trembling limbs, overcome by respect and fear, Angelique had fallen +upon her knees. He seemed to her at this moment like the Eternal Father, +terrible in aspect and absolute master of her destiny. But her heart was +still courageous, and she spoke at once. + +“Oh! Monseigneur, I have come----” + +As for the Bishop, he had risen immediately. He had a vague recollection +of her; the young girl, seen first at her window on the day of the +procession, and re-found a little later standing on a chair in the +church; this little embroiderer, with whom his son was so desperately +in love. He uttered no word, he made no gesture. He waited, stern and +stiff. + +“Oh! Monseigneur, I have come on purpose that you may see me. You have, +it is true, refused to accept me, but you do not know me. And now, here +I am. Please look at me before you repel me again. I am the one who +loves, and am also beloved, and that is all. Nothing beyond this +affection. Nothing but a poor child, found at the door of this church. +You see me at your feet, little, weak, and humble. If I trouble you it +will be very easy for you to send me away. You have only to lift your +little finger to crush me. But think of my tears! Were you to know how +I have suffered, you would be compassionate. I wished, Monseigneur, to +plead my cause in my turn. I love, and that is why I kneel before you, +to tell you so. I am ignorant in many ways; I only know I love. All +my strength and all my pride is centred in that fact. Is not that +sufficient? It certainly makes one great and good to be able to say that +one really loves.” + +She continued with sighs, and in broken phrases, to confess everything +to him, in an unaffected outpouring of ardent feeling. It was a true +affection that thus acknowledged itself. She dared to do so because she +was innocent and pure. Little by little she raised her head. + +“We love each other, Monseigneur. Without doubt he has already told +you how all this came to pass. As for me, I have often asked myself the +question without being able to reply to it. But we love each other, and +if it is a crime to do so, pardon it, I beseech you, for it came from +afar, from everything in short that surrounded us. When I realised that +I loved him, it was already too late to prevent it. Now, is it possible +to be angry on that account? You can keep him with you, make him marry +some other person, but you cannot prevent him from giving me his heart. +He will die without me, as I shall if obliged to part from him. When +he is not by my side I feel that he is really near me, and that we will +never be entirely separated, since we carry each other’s life with us. +I have only to close my eyes to re-see him when I wish, so firmly is his +image impressed upon my soul. Our whole natures are thus closely united +for life. And could you wish to draw us away from this union? Oh! +Monseigneur, it is divine; do not try to prevent us loving each other!” + +He looked at her in her simple working-dress, so fresh, so unpretending, +and attractive. He listened to her as she repeated the canticle of their +love in a voice that both fascinated and troubled him, and which grew +stronger by degrees. But as her garden-hat fell upon her shoulders, her +exquisite hair seemed to make a halo around her head of fine gold, and +she appeared to him, indeed, like one of those legendary virgins of the +old prayer-books, so frail was she, so primitive, so absorbed in her +deep feeling of intense and pure affection. + +“Be good, be merciful, Monseigneur. You are the master. Do allow us to +be happy!” + +She implored him, and finding that he remained unmoved, without +speaking, she again bowed down her head. + +Oh! this unhappy child at his feet; this odour of youth that came up +from the sweet figure thus bent before him! There he saw, as it were +again, the beautiful light locks he had so fondly caressed in the days +gone by. She, whose memory still distressed him after twenty years of +penitence, had the same fresh youthfulness, the same proud expression, +and the same lily-like grace. She had re-appeared; it was she herself +who now sobbed and besought him to be tender and merciful. + +Tears had come to Angelique, yet she continued to outpour her heart. + +“And, Monseigneur, it is not only that I love him, but I also love the +nobility of his name, the lustre of his royal fortune. Yes, I know well +that being nothing, that having nothing, it seems as if I were only +desirous of his money. In a way, it is true it is also for his wealth +that I wish to marry him. I tell you this because it is necessary that +you should know me thoroughly. Ah! to become rich by him and with him, +to owe all my happiness to him, to live in the sweetness and splendour +of luxury, to be free in our loving home, and to have no more sorrow, no +misery around us! That is my ideal! Since he has loved me I fancy myself +dressed in heavy brocades, as ladies wore in olden days; I have on my +arms and around my neck strings of pearls and precious stones; I have +horses and carriages; groves in which I take long walks, followed +by pages. Whenever I think of him my dream recommences, and I say to +myself, ‘This must all come to pass, for it perfects my desire to become +a queen.’ Is it, then, Monseigneur, a bad thing to love him more because +he can gratify all my childish wishing by showering down miraculous +floods of gold upon me as in fairy-tales?” + +He saw then that she rose up proudly, with a charming, stately air of +a true princess, in spite of her real simplicity. And she was always +exactly like the fair maiden of other years, with the same flower-like +delicacy, the same tender tears, clear as smiles. A species of +intoxication came from her, the warm breath of which mounted to his +face--the same shadow of a remembrance which made him at night throw +himself on his devotional chair, sobbing so deeply that he disturbed the +sacred silence of the Palace. Until three o’clock in the morning of this +same day he had contended with himself again, and this long history of +love, this story of passion, would only revive and excite his incurable +wound. But behind his impassiveness nothing was seen, nothing betrayed +his effort at self-control and his attempt to conquer the beating of his +heart. Were he to lose his life’s blood, drop by drop, no one should see +it flow, and he now simply became paler, was silent and immovable. + +At last this great persistent silence made Angelique desperate, and she +redoubled her prayers. + +“I put myself in your hands, Monseigneur. Do with me whatever you think +best; but have pity when deciding my fate.” + +Still, as he continued silent, he terrified her, and seemed to grow +taller than ever as he stood before her in his fearful majesty. The +deserted Cathedral, whose aisles were already dark, with its high +vaulted arches where the daylight seemed dying, made the agony of this +silence still harder to bear. In the chapel, where the commemorative +slabs could no longer be seen, there remained only the Bishop in his +purple cassock, that now looked black, and his long white face, which +alone seemed to have absorbed all the light. She saw his bright eyes +fixed upon her with an ever-increasing depth of expression, and shrunk +from them, wondering if it were possible that anger made them shine in +so strange a way. + +“Monseigneur, had I not come to-day, I should have eternally reproached +myself for having brought about the unhappiness of us both from my want +of courage. Tell me then, oh, tell me that I was right in doing so, and +that you will give us your consent!” + +What use would there be in discussing the matter with this child? He +had already given his son the reasons for his refusal, and that was +all-sufficient. That he had not yet spoken was only because he thought +he had nothing to say. She, no doubt, understood him, and she seemed to +wish to raise herself up that she might be able to kiss his hands. But +he threw them behind him violently, and she was startled at seeing his +white face become suddenly crimson, from a rush of blood to his head. + +“Monseigneur! Monseigneur!” + +At last he opened his lips, to say to her just one word, the same he had +said to his son: + +“Never!” + +And without remaining to pray that day, as was his wont, he left the +chapel, and with slow steps soon disappeared behind the pillars of the +apse. + +Falling on the flagstones, Angelique wept for a long time, sobbing +deeply in the great peaceful silence of the empty church. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +That same evening in the kitchen, after they left the dinner-table, +Angelique confessed everything to Hubert, telling him of her interview +with the Bishop, and of the latter’s refusal. She was very pale, but not +at all excited. + +Hubert was quite overcome. What? Could it be possible that his dear +child already suffered? That she also had been so deeply wounded in her +affections? His eyes were filled with tears from his sympathy with her, +as they were both of that excessively sensitive nature that at the least +breath they were carried away by their imaginations. + +“Ah! my poor darling, why did you not consult me? I would willingly have +accompanied you, and perhaps I might have persuaded Monseigneur to yield +to your prayers.” + +With a look Hubertine stopped him. He was really unreasonable. Was it +not much better to seize this occasion to put an end at once to all +ideas of a marriage which would be impossible? She took the young girl +in her arms, and tenderly kissed her forehead. + +“Then, now it is ended, my dear child; all ended?” + +Angelique at first did not appear to understand what was said to her. +Soon the words returned to her as if from a distance. She looked fixedly +before her, seeming anxious to question the empty space, and at last she +replied: + +“Without doubt, mother.” + +Indeed, on the morrow she seated herself at the work-frame and +embroidered as she was wont to do. She took up her usual routine of +daily work, and did not appear to suffer. Moreover, no allusion was made +to the past; she no longer looked from time to time out of the window +into the garden, and gradually losing her paleness, the natural +colour came back to her cheeks. The sacrifice appeared to have been +accomplished. + +Hubert himself thought it was so, and, convinced of the wisdom of +Hubertine, did all in his power to keep Felicien at a distance. The +latter, not daring to openly revolt against his father, grew feverishly +impatient, to such a degree that he almost broke the promise he had made +to wait quietly without trying to see Angelique again. He wrote to her, +and the letters were intercepted. He even went to the house one morning, +but it was Hubert alone who received him. Their explanatory conversation +saddened them both to an equal degree, so much did the young man appear +to suffer when the embroiderer told him of his daughter’s calmness and +her air of forgetfulness. He besought him to be loyal, and go to away, +that he might not again throw the child into the fearful trouble of the +last few weeks. + +Felicien again pledged himself to be patient, but he violently refused +to take back his word, for he was still hopeful that he might persuade +his father in the end. He could wait; he would let affairs remain in +their present state with the Voincourts, where he dined twice a week, +doing so simply to avoid a direct act of open rebellion. + +And as he left the house he besought Hubert to explain to Angelique why +he had consented to the torment of not seeing her for the moment; he +thought only of her, and the sole aim of everything he did was to gain +her at last. + +When her husband repeated this conversation to her, Hubertine grew very +serious. Then, after a short silence, she asked: + +“Shall you tell our daughter what he asked you to say to her?” + +“I ought to do so.” + +She was again silent, but finally added: + +“Act according to your conscience. But he is now under a delusion. He +will eventually be obliged to yield to his father’s wishes, and then our +poor, dear little girl will die in consequence.” + +Hubert, overcome with grief, hesitated. But after contending with +himself, he concluded to repeat nothing. Moreover, he became a little +reassured each day when his wife called his attention to Angelique’s +tranquil appearance. + +“You see well that the wound is healing. She is learning to forget.” + +But she did not forget; she also was simply waiting. All hope of human +aid having died within her, she now had returned to the idea of some +wonderful prodigy. There would surely be one, if God wished her to be +happy. She had only to give herself up entirely into His hands; she +believed that this new trial had been sent to her as a punishment +for having attempted to force His will in intruding upon Monseigneur. +Without true grace mankind was weak, and incapable of success. Her need +of that grace made her humble, bringing to her as an only hope the +aid of the Invisible; so that she gave up acting for herself, but left +everything to the mysterious forces which surrounded her. Each evening +at lamplight she recommenced her reading of the “Golden Legend,” being +as delighted with it as when she was a young child. She doubted none +of the miracles related therein, being convinced that the power of the +Unknown is without limit for the triumph of pure souls. + +Just at this time the upholsterer of the Cathedral ordered of the +Huberts a panel of the very richest embroidery for the throne of +Monseigneur the Bishop. This panel, one yard and a half in width and +three yards in length, was to be set in old carved wood, and on it were +to be represented two angels of life-size, holding a crown, on which +were to be the arms of the Hautecœurs. It was necessary that the +embroidery should be in bas-relief, a work which not only required great +artistic knowledge, but also needed physical strength, to be well done. +When proposed to the Huberts, they at first declined the offer, being +not only fearful of fatiguing Angelique, but especially dreading that +she would be saddened by the remembrances which would be brought to her +mind as she wrought thread after thread during the several weeks. But +she insisted upon accepting the command, and every morning applied +herself to her task with an extraordinary energy. It seemed as if +she found her happiness in tiring herself, and that she needed to be +physically exhausted in order to be calm. + +So in the old workroom life continued in the same regular way, as if +their hearts had not even for a moment beaten more quickly than usual. +Whilst Hubert occupied himself with arranging the frames, or drew +the patterns, or stretched or relaxed the materials, Hubertine helped +Angelique, both of them having their hands terribly tired and bruised +when evening came. For the angels and the ornaments it had been +necessary at the beginning to divide each subject into several parts, +which were treated separately. In order to perfect the most salient +points, Angelique first took spools of coarse unbleached thread, +which she re-covered with the strong thread of Brittany in a contrary +direction; and as the need came, making use of a heavy pair of shears, +as well as of a roughing-chisel, she modelled these threads, shaped the +drapery of the angels, and detached the details of the ornaments. In all +this there was a real work of sculpture. At last, when the desired form +was obtained, with the aid of Hubertine she threw on masses of gold +thread, which she fastened down with little stitches of silk. Thus there +was a bas-relief of gold, incomparably soft and bright, shining like a +sun in the centre of this dark, smoky room. The old tools were arranged +in the same lines as they had been for centuries--the punches, the +awls, the mallets, and the hammers; on the work-frame the little donkey +waste-basket and the tinsel, the thimbles and the needles, moved up +and down as usual, while in the different corners, where they ended by +growing rusty, the diligent, the hand spinning-wheel, and the reel for +winding, seemed to sleep in the peaceful quiet which entered through the +open window. + +Days passed. Angelique broke many needles between morning and evening, +so difficult was it to sew down the gold, through the thickness of +the waxed threads. To have seen her, one would have said she was so +thoroughly absorbed by her hard work that she could think of nothing +else. At nine o’clock she was exhausted by fatigue, and, going to bed, +she sank at once into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When her embroidery gave +her mind a moment’s leisure, she was astonished not to see Felicien. +Although she took no step towards seeking him, it seemed to her that he +ought to have tried every possible way to come to her. Yet she approved +of his wisdom in acting as he did, and would have scolded him had +he tried to hasten matters. No doubt he also looked for something +supernatural to happen. It was this expectation upon which she now +lived, thinking each night that it would certainly come on the morrow. +Until now she had never rebelled. Still, at times she lifted up her head +inquiringly, as if asking “What! Has nothing yet come to pass?” And then +she pricked her finger so deeply that her hand bled, and she was obliged +to take the pincers to draw the needle out. When her needle would break +with a sharp little sound, as if of glass, she did not even make a +movement of impatience. + +Hubertine was very anxious on seeing her apply herself so desperately +to her work, and as the time for the great washing had come again, she +forced her to leave her panel of embroidery, that she might have four +good days of active outdoor life in the broad sunlight. The _mère_ +Gabet, now free of her rheumatism, was able to help in the soaping and +rinsing. It was a regular fête in the Clos-Marie, these last August +days, in which the weather was splendid, the sky almost cloudless, while +a delicious fragrance came up from the Chevrotte, the water of which as +it passed under the willows was almost icy cold. The first day Angelique +was very gay, as she beat the linen after plunging it in the stream; +enjoying to the full the river, the elms, the old ruined mill, the wild +herbs, and all those friendly surroundings, so filled with pleasant +memories. Was it not there she had become acquainted with Felicien, who +under the moonlight had at first seemed so mysterious a being, and who, +later on, had been so adorably awkward the morning when he ran after +the dressing-sacque that was being carried away by the current? As she +rinsed each article, she could not refrain from glancing at the gateway +of the Bishop’s garden, which until recently had been nailed up. One +evening she had passed through it on his arm, and who could tell but he +might suddenly now open it and come to take her as she applied herself +to her work in the midst of the frothy foam that at times almost covered +her. + +But the next day, as the _mère_ Gabet brought the last barrow of linen, +which she spread out on the grass with Angelique, she interrupted her +interminable chattering upon the gossip of the neighbourhood to say +maliciously: + +“By the way, you know that Monseigneur is to marry his son?” + +The young girl, who was just smoothing out a sheet, knelt down in the +grass, her strength leaving her all at once, from the rudeness of the +shock. + +“Yes, everyone is talking of it. The son of Monseigneur will in the +autumn marry Mademoiselle de Voincourt. It seems that everything was +decided upon and arranged yesterday.” + +She remained on her knees, as a flood of confused ideas passed through +her brain, and a strange humming was in her ears. She was not at all +surprised at the news, and she realised it must be true. Her mother had +already warned her, so she ought to have been prepared for it. She did +not yet even doubt Felicien’s love for her, as that was her faith and +her strength. But at the present moment, that which weakened her so +greatly and excited her to the very depths of her being was the thought +that, trembling before the commands of his father, he could at last +yield from weariness, and consent to wed one whom he did not love. Then +he would be lost to her whom he really adored. Never had she thought +such an act on his part possible; but now she saw him obliged by his +filial duty and his sense of obedience to make them both unhappy for +ever. Still motionless, her eyes fixed upon the little gate, she at +last revolted against the facts, feeling as if she must go and shake the +bars, force them open with her hands, run to Felicien, and, aiding him +by her own courage, persuade him not to yield. She was surprised to hear +herself reply to the _mère_ Gabet, in the purely mechanical instinct of +hiding her trouble: + +“Ah! then he is to marry Mademoiselle Claire. She is not only very +beautiful, but it is said she is also very good.” + +Certainly, as soon as the old woman went away, she must go and find him. +She had waited long enough; she would break her promise of not seeing +him as if it were a troublesome obstacle. What right had anyone +to separate them in this way? Everything spoke to her of their +affection--the Cathedral, the fresh water, and the old elm-trees under +which they had been so happy. Since their affection had grown on this +spot, it was there that she wished to find him again, to go with him +arm-in-arm far away, so far that no one would ever see them. + +“That is all,” said at last the _mère_ Gabet, as she hung the last +napkins on a bush. “In two hours they will be dry. Good-night, +mademoiselle, as you no longer have need of me.” + +Now, standing in the midst of this efflorescence of linen that shone +on the green grass, Angelique thought of that other day, when, in the +tempest of wind, among the flapping of the sheets and tablecloths, they +unfolded so ingenuously the secrets of their lives to each other. Why +had he discontinued his visits to her? Why had he not come to meet her +during her healthy exercise of the past three days? But it would not +be long before she would run to him, and when he had clasped her in his +arms, he would know well that he was hers, and hers only. She would not +even need to reproach him for his apparent weakness; it would be enough +for her to show herself to make him realise that their happiness was in +being together. + +He would dare everything for her sake when once she had rejoined him. + +An hour passed, and Angelique walked slowly between the pieces of +linen, all white herself from the blinding reflection of the sun; and +a confused sentiment awoke in her breast, which, growing stronger and +stronger, prevented her from going over to the gate, as she had wished +to do. She was frightened before this commencement of a struggle. What +did it mean? She certainly could act according to her own will. Yet +something new, inexplicable, thwarted her and changed the simplicity of +her passion. It was such a simple thing to go to a beloved one; yet she +could not possibly do so now, being kept back by a tormenting doubt. +Also, since she had given her promise, perhaps it would be wrong to +break it. In the evening, when the whole “wash” was dry, and Hubertine +came to help her to take it to the house, she was still undecided what +to do, and concluded to reflect upon it during the night. With her arms +filled to overflowing with linen, white as snow, and smelling fresh and +clean, she cast an anxious look towards the Clos-Marie, already bathed +in the twilight, as if it were a friendly corner of Nature refusing to +be her accomplice. + +In the morning Angelique was greatly troubled when she awoke. Several +other nights passed without her having come to any decision. She could +not recover her ease of mind until she had the certainty that she was +still beloved. Were her faith in that unshaken she would be perfectly at +rest. If loved, she could bear anything. A fit of being charitable had +again taken possession of her, so that she was touched by the slightest +suffering, and her eyes were filled with tears ready to overflow at any +moment. The old man Mascart made her give him tobacco, and the Chouarts +drew from her everything they wished, even to preserved fruits. But the +Lemballeuses also profited by her gifts, and Tiennette had been seen +dancing at the fêtes, dressed in one of “the good young lady’s” gowns. +And one day, as she was taking to the grandmother some chemises promised +her the previous evening, she saw from a distance, in the midst of the +poor family, Madame de Voincourt and her daughter Claire, accompanied by +Felicien. The latter, no doubt, had taken them there. She did not show +herself, but returned home at once, chilled to the heart. Two days +later she saw the two again as they came out from the Château; then one +morning the old man Mascart told her of a visit he had received from +the handsome young gentleman and two ladies. Then she abandoned her poor +people, who seemed no longer to have claims upon her, since Felicien had +taken them and given them to his new friends. She gave up her walks +for fear she might see them, and thus be so deeply wounded that her +sufferings would be increased tenfold. She felt as if something were +dying within her, as if, little by little, her very life was passing +away. + +One evening, after one of these meetings, when alone in her chamber, +stifling from anguish, she uttered this cry: + +“But he loves me no longer.” + +She saw before her, mentally, Claire de Voincourt, tall, beautiful, +with her crown of black hair, and he was at her side, slight, proud, and +handsome. Were they not really created for each other, of the same race, +so well mated that one might think they were already married? + +“He no longer loves me! Oh! he no longer loves me!” + +This exclamation broke from her lips as if it were the ruin of all her +hopes, and, her faith once shaken, everything gave way without her being +able to examine the facts of the case or to regard them calmly. The +previous evening she believed in something, but that had now passed by. +A breath, coming from she knew not where, had been sufficient, and all +at once by a single blow she had fallen into the greatest despair--that +of thinking she was not beloved. He had indeed spoken wisely when he +told her once that this was the only real grief, the one insupportable +torture. Now her turn had come. Until then she had been resigned, +she felt so strong and confident as she awaited the miracle. But her +strength passed away with her faith; she was tormented by her distress +like a child; her whole being seemed to be only an open wound. And a +painful struggle commenced in her soul. + +At first she called upon her pride to help her; she was too proud to +care for him any more. She tried to deceive herself, she pretended to be +free from all care, as she sang while embroidering the Hautecœur coat +of arms, upon which she was at work. But her heart was so full it almost +stifled her, and she was ashamed to acknowledge to herself that she was +weak enough to love him still in spite of all, and even to love him more +than ever. For a week these armorial bearings, as they grew thread by +thread under her fingers, filled her with a terrible sorrow. Quartered +one and four, two and three, of Jerusalem and d’Hautecœur; of +Jerusalem, which is argent, a cross potence, or, between four +cross-crosslets of the last; and d’Hautecœur, azure, on a castle, or, a +shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent; the whole accompanied +by three fleurs-de-lys, or, two at the top and one in the point. The +enamels were made of twist, the metals of gold and silver thread. What +misery it was to feel that her hands trembled, and to be obliged to +lower her head to hide her eyes, that were blinded with tears, from all +this brightness. She thought only of him; she adored him in the lustre +of his legendary nobility. And when she embroidered the motto of the +family, “_Si Dieu veult, je veux_,” in black silk on a streamer of +silver, she realised that she was his slave, and that never again +could she reclaim him. Then tears prevented her from seeing, while +mechanically she continued to make little stitches in her work. + +After this it was indeed pitiable. Angelique loved in despair, fought +against this hopeless affection, which she could not destroy. She still +wished to go to Felicien, to reconquer him by throwing her arms around +his neck; and thus the contest was daily renewed. Sometimes she thought +she had gained control over her feelings, so great a silence appeared to +have fallen within and around her. She seemed to see herself as if in a +vision, a stranger in reality, very little, very cold, and kneeling like +an obedient child in the humility of renunciation. Then it was no longer +herself, but a sensible young girl, made so by her education and her +home life. Soon a rush of blood mounted to her face, making her dizzy; +her perfect health, the ardent feelings of her youth, seemed to gallop +like runaway colts, and she resaw herself, proud and passionate, in all +the reality of her unknown origin. Why, then, had she been so obedient? +There was no true duty to consult, only free-will. Already she had +planned her flight, and calculated the most favourable hour for forcing +open the gate of the Bishop’s garden. But already, also, the agony, the +grave uneasiness, the torment of a doubt had come back to her. Were she +to yield to evil she would suffer eternal remorse in consequence. Hours, +most abominable hours, passed in this uncertainty as to what part she +should take under this tempestuous wind, which constantly threw her from +the revolt of her love to the horror of a fault. And she came out of the +contest weakened by each victory over her heart. + +One evening, as she was about leaving the house to go to join Felicien, +she suddenly thought of her little book from the Society of Aid to +Abandoned Children. She was so distressed to find that she no longer had +strength to resist her pride. She took it from the depths of the chest +of drawers, turned over its leaves, whispered to herself at each page +the lowness of her birth, so eager was she in her need of humility. +Father and mother unknown; no name; nothing but a date and a number; a +complete neglect, like that of a wild plant that grows by the roadside! +Then crowds of memories came to her: the rich pastures of the Mièvre and +the cows she had watched there; the flat route of Soulanges, where she +had so often walked barefooted; and Maman Nini, who boxed her ears when +she stole apples. Certain pages specially attracted her by their painful +associations:--those which certified every three months to the visits +of the under-inspector and of the physician, whose signatures were +sometimes accompanied by observations or information, as, for instance, +a severe illness, during which she had almost died; a claim from her +nurse on the subject of a pair of shoes that had been burnt; and bad +marks that had been given her for her uncontrollable temper. It was, in +short, the journal of her misery. But one thing disturbed her above all +others--the report in reference to the breaking of the necklace she +had worn until she was six years of age. She recollected that she had +instinctively hated it, this string of beads of bone, cut in the shape +of little olives, strung on a silken cord, and fastened by a medallion +of plaited silver, bearing the date of her entrance into the “Home” and +her number. She considered it as a badge of slavery, and tried several +times to break it with her little hands, without any fear as to the +consequences of doing so. Then, when older, she complained that it +choked her. For a year longer she was obliged to wear it. Great, indeed, +was her joy when, in the presence of the mayor of the parish, the +inspector’s aid had cut the cord, replacing this sign of individuality +by a formal description, in which allusion was made to her +violet-coloured eyes and her fine golden hair. Yet she always seemed +to feel around her neck this collar, as if she were an animal that was +marked in order that she might be recognised if she went astray; it cut +into her flesh and stifled her. When she came to that page on this day, +her humility came back to her, she was frightened, and went up to her +chamber, sobbing as if unworthy of being loved. At two other times this +little book saved her. At last it lost its power, and could not help her +in checking her rebellious thoughts. + +Now, her greatest temptation came to her at night. Before going to +bed, that her sleep might be calm, she imposed upon herself the task of +resuming reading the Legends. But, resting her forehead on her hands, +notwithstanding all her efforts she could understand nothing. The +miracles stupefied her; she saw only a discoloured flight of phantoms. +Then in her great bed, after a most intense prostration, she started +suddenly from her sleep, in agony, in the midst of the darkness. She sat +upright, distracted; then knelt among the half thrown-back clothes, as +the perspiration started from her forehead, while she trembled from head +to foot. Clasping her hands together, she stammered in prayer, “Oh! my +God! Why have You forsaken me?” + +Her great distress was to realise that she was alone in the obscurity +at such moments. She had dreamed of Felicien, she was eager to dress +herself and go to join him, before anyone could come to prevent her +from fleeing. It was as if the Divine grace were leaving her, as if God +ceased to protect her, and even the elements abandoned her. In despair, +she called upon the unknown, she listened attentively, hoping for some +sign from the Invisible. But there was no reply; the air seemed empty. +There were no more whispering voices, no more mysterious rustlings. +Everything seemed to be dead--the Clos-Marie, with the Chevrotte, the +willows, the elm-trees in the Bishop’s garden, and the Cathedral itself. +Nothing remained of the dreams she had placed there; the white flight of +her friends in passing away left behind them only their sepulchre. She +was in agony at her powerlessness, disarmed, like a Christian of the +Primitive Church overcome by original sin, as soon as the aid of the +supernatural had departed. In the dull silence of this protected corner +she heard this evil inheritance come back, howling triumphant over +everything. If in ten minutes more no help came to her from figurative +forces, if things around her did not rouse up and sustain her, she would +certainly succumb and go to her ruin. “My God! My God! Why have You +abandoned me?” Still kneeling on her bed, slight and delicate, it seemed +to her as if she were dying. + +Each time, until now, at the moment of her greatest distress she had +been sustained by a certain freshness. It was the Eternal Grace which +had pity upon her, and restored her illusions. She jumped out on to the +floor with her bare feet, and ran eagerly to the window. Then at last +she heard the voices rising again; invisible wings brushed against her +hair, the people of the “Golden Legend” came out from the trees and the +stones, and crowded around her. Her purity, her goodness, all that which +resembled her in Nature, returned to her and saved her. Now she was no +longer afraid, for she knew that she was watched over. Agnes had come +back with the wandering, gentle virgins, and in the air she breathed +was a sweet calmness, which, notwithstanding her intense sadness, +strengthened her in her resolve to die rather than fail in her duty or +break her promise. At last, quite exhausted, she crept back into +her bed, falling asleep again with the fear of the morrow’s trials, +constantly tormented by the idea that she must succumb in the end, if +her weakness thus increased each day. + +In fact, a languor gained fearfully upon Angelique since she thought +Felicien no longer loved her. She was deeply wounded and silent, +uncomplaining; she seemed to be dying hourly. At first it showed itself +by weariness. She would have an attack of want of breath, when she was +forced to drop her thread, and for a moment remain with her eyes half +closed, seeing nothing, although apparently looking straight before her. +Then she left off eating, scarcely taking even a little milk; and she +either hid her bread or gave it to the neighbours’ chickens, that she +need not make her parents anxious. A physician having been called, +found no acute disease, but considering her life too solitary, simply +recommended a great deal of exercise. It was like a gradual fading away +of her whole being; a disappearing by slow degrees, an obliterating +of her physique from its immaterial beauty. Her form floated like the +swaying of two great wings; a strong light seemed to come from her +thin face, where the soul was burning. She could now come down from her +chamber only in tottering steps, as she supported herself by putting her +two hands against the wall of the stairway. But as soon as she realised +she was being looked at, she made a great effort, and even persisted in +wishing to finish the panel of heavy embroidery for the Bishop’s seat. +Her little, slender hands had no more strength, and when she broke a +needle she could not draw it from the work with the pincers. + +One morning, when Hubert and Hubertine had been obliged to go out, and +had left her alone at her work, the embroiderer, coming back first, had +found her on the floor near the frame, where she had fallen from her +chair after having fainted away. She had at last succumbed before her +task, one of the great golden angels being still unfinished. Hubert took +her in his arms, and tried to place her on her feet. But she fell back +again, and did not recover consciousness. + +“My darling! My darling! Speak to me! Have pity on me!” + +At last she opened her eyes and looked at him in despair. Why had he +wished her to come back to life! She would so gladly die! + +“What is the matter with you, my dear child? Have you really deceived +us? Do you still love him?” + +She made no answer, but simply looked at him with intense sadness. Then +he embraced her gently, took her in his arms, and carried her up to her +room. Having placed her upon her bed, when he saw how white and frail +she was he wept that he had had so cruel a task to perform as to keep +away from her the one whom she so loved. + +“But I would have given him to you, my dear! Why did you say nothing to +me?” + +She did not speak; her eyelids closed, and she appeared to fall +asleep. He remained standing, his looks fixed upon the thin, lily-white +countenance, his heart bleeding with pity. Then, as her breathing had +become quiet, he went downstairs, as he heard his wife come in. + +He explained everything to her in the working-room. Hubertine had just +taken off her hat and gloves, and he at once told her of his having +found the child on the floor in a dead faint, that she was now sleeping +on her bed, overcome with weakness, and almost lifeless. + +“We have really been greatly mistaken. She thinks constantly of this +young man, and it is killing her by inches. Ah! if you knew what a shock +it gave me, and the remorse which has made me almost distracted, since +I have realised the truth of the case, and carried her upstairs in so +pitiable a state. It is our fault. We have separated them by falsehoods, +and I am not only ashamed, but so angry with myself it makes me ill. But +what? Will you let her suffer so, without saying anything to save her?” + +Still Hubertine was as silent as Angelique, and, pale from anxiety, +looked at him calmly and soothingly. But he, always an excitable man, +was now so overcome by what he had just seen that, forgetting his usual +submission, he was almost beside himself, could not keep still, but +threw his hands up and down in his feverish agitation. + +“Very well, then! I will speak, and I will tell her that Felicien loves +her, and that it is we who have had the cruelty to prevent him from +returning, in deceiving him also. Now, every tear she sheds cuts me to +the heart. Were she to die, I should consider myself as having been her +murderer. I wish her to be happy. Yes! happy at any cost, no matter how, +but by all possible means.” + +He had approached his wife, and he dared to cry out in the revolt of +his tenderness, being doubly irritated by the sad silence she still +maintained. + +“Since they love each other, it is they alone who should be masters of +the situation. There is surely nothing in the world greater than to love +and be loved. Yes, happiness is always legitimate.” + +At length Hubertine, standing motionless, spoke slowly: + +“You are willing, then, that he should take her from us, are you not? +That he should marry her notwithstanding our opposition, and without the +consent of his father? Would you advise them to do so? Do you think that +they would be happy afterwards, and that love would suffice them?” + +And without changing her manner she continued in the same heart-broken +voice: + +“On my way home I passed by the cemetery, and an undefinable hope made +me enter there again. I knelt once more on the spot that is worn by our +knees, and I prayed there for a long time.” + +Hubert had turned very pale, and a cold chill replaced the fever of a +few moments before. Certainly he knew well the tomb of the unforgiving +mother, where they had so often been in tears and in submission, as they +accused themselves of their disobedience, and besought the dead to send +them her pardon from the depths of the earth. They had remained there +for hours, sure that if the grace they demanded were ever granted them +they would be cognisant of it at once. That for which they pleaded, that +for which they hoped, was for another infant, a child of pardon, the +only sign which would assure them that at last they themselves had been +forgiven. But all was in vain. The cold, hard mother was deaf to all +their entreaties, and left them under the inexorable punishment of the +death of their firstborn, whom she had taken and carried away, and whom +she refused to restore to them. + +“I prayed there for a long time,” repeated Hubertine. “I listened +eagerly to know if there would not be some slight movement.” + +Hubert questioned her with an anxious look. + +“But there was nothing--no! no sound came up to me from the earth, and +within me there was no feeling of relief. Ah! yes, it is useless to hope +any longer. It is too late. We brought about our own unhappiness.” + +Then, trembling, he asked: + +“Do you accuse me of it?” + +“Yes, you are to blame, and I also did wrong in following you. We +disobeyed in the beginning, and all our life has been spoiled in +consequence of that one false step.” + +“But are you not happy?” + +“No, I am not happy. A woman who has no child can never be happy. To +love merely is not enough. That love must be crowned and blest.” + +He had fallen into a chair, faint and overcome, as tears came to his +eyes. Never before had she reproached him for the ever-open wound which +marred their lives, and she who always after having grieved him by +an involuntary allusion to the past had quickly recovered herself and +consoled him, this time let him suffer, looking at him as she stood +near, but making no sign, taking no step towards him. He wept bitterly, +exclaiming in the midst of his tears: + +“Ah! the dear child upstairs--it is she you condemn. You are not willing +that Felicien should marry her, as I married you, and that she should +suffer as you have done.” + +She answered simply by a look: a clear, affectionate glance, in which he +read the strength and simplicity of her heart. + +“But you said yourself, my dear, that our sweet daughter would die of +grief if matters were not changed. Do you, then, wish for her death?” + +“Yes. Her death now would be preferable to an unhappy life.” + +He left his seat, and clasped her in his arms as they both sobbed +bitterly. For some minutes they embraced each other. Then he conquered +himself, and she in her turn was obliged to lean upon his shoulder, that +he might comfort her and renew her courage. They were indeed distressed, +but were firm in their decision to keep perfectly silent, and, if it +were God’s will that their child must die in consequence, they must +accept it submissively, rather than advise her to do wrong. + +From that day Angelique was obliged to keep in her room. Her weakness +increased so rapidly and to such a degree that she could no longer go +down to the workroom. Did she attempt to walk, her head became dizzy +at once and her limbs bent under her. At first, by the aid of the +furniture, she was able to get to the balcony. Later, she was obliged +to content herself with going from her armchair to her bed. Even that +distance seemed long to her, and she only tried it in the morning and +evening, she was so exhausted. + +However, she still worked, giving up the embroidery in bas-relief as +being too difficult, and simply making use of coloured silks. She copied +flowers after Nature, from a bunch of hydrangeas and hollyhocks, which, +having no odour, she could keep in her room. The bouquet was in full +bloom in a large vase, and often she would rest for several minutes as +she looked at it with pleasure, for even the light silks were too heavy +for her fingers. In two days she had made one flower, which was fresh +and bright as it shone upon the satin; but this occupation was her +life, and she would use her needle until her last breath. Softened by +suffering, emaciated by the inner fever that was consuming her, she +seemed now to be but a spirit, a pure and beautiful flame that would +soon be extinguished. + +Why was it necessary to struggle any longer if Felicien did not love +her? Now she was dying with this conviction; not only had he no love for +her to-day, but perhaps he had never really cared for her. So long as +her strength lasted she had contended against her heart, her health, and +her youth, all of which urged her to go and join him. But now that she +was unable to move, she must resign herself and accept her fate. + +One morning, as Hubert placed her in her easy chair, and put a cushion +under her little, motionless feet, she said, with a smile: + +“Ah! I am sure of being good now, and not trying to run away.” + +Hubert hastened to go downstairs, that she might not see his tears. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +It was impossible for Angelique to sleep that night. A nervous +wakefulness kept her burning eyelids from closing, and her extreme +weakness seemed greater than ever. The Huberts had gone to their room, +and at last, when it was near midnight, so great a fear came over her +that she would die if she were to remain longer in bed, she preferred to +get up, notwithstanding the immense effort required to do so. + +She was almost stifled. Putting on a dressing-gown and warm slippers, +she crept along slowly as far as the window, which she opened wide. +The winter was somewhat rainy, but of a mild dampness; so the air was +pleasant to breathe. She sank back into her great armchair, after having +turned up the wick of a lamp which was on a table near her, and which +was always allowed to be kept burning during the entire night. There, +by the side of the volume of the “Golden Legend,” was the bouquet of +hydrangeas and hollyhocks which she had begun to copy. That she might +once more attach herself to the life which she realised was fast passing +from her she had a sudden fancy to work, and drawing her frame forward, +she made a few stitches with her trembling fingers. The red silk of the +rose-tremière seemed of a deeper hue than ever, in contrast with her +white hands: it was almost as if it were the blood from her veins which +was quietly flowing away drop by drop. + +But she, who for two hours had turned in vain from side to side in the +burning bedclothes, yielded almost immediately to sleep as soon as she +was seated. Her head drooped a little toward her right shoulder, being +supported by the back of her chair, and the silk remaining in her +motionless hands, a looker-on would have thought she was still +embroidering. White as snow, perfectly calm, she slept under the light +of the lamp in the chamber, still and quiet as a tomb. The faded, rosy +draperies of the great royal couch were paler than ever in their shady +corner, and the gloom of the walls of the room was only relieved by the +great chest of drawers, the wardrobe, and the chairs of old carved oak. +Minutes passed; her slumber was deep and dreamless. + +At last there was a slight sound, and Felicien suddenly appeared on the +balcony, pale, trembling, and, like herself, looking very worn and thin, +and his countenance distressed. When he saw her reclining in the easy +chair, pitiable and yet so beautiful to look at, he rushed at once into +the chamber, and his heart grew heavy with infinite grief as he went +forward, and, falling on his knees before her, gazed at her with an +expression of utter despair. Could it be that she was so hopelessly ill? +Was it unhappiness that had caused her to be so weak, and to have wasted +way to such a degree that she appeared to him light as air while she lay +there, like a feather which the slightest breath would blow away? In her +sleep, her suffering and her patient resignation were clearly seen. He +in fact would have known her only by her lily-like grace, the delicate +outlines of her neck, her drooping shoulders, and her oval face, +transfigured like that of a youthful virgin mounting towards heaven. +Her exquisite hair was now only a mass of light, and her pure soul shone +under the soft transparency of her skin. She had all the ethereal +beauty of the saints relieved from their bodies. He was both dazzled +and distressed; the violent shock rendered him incapable of moving, +and, with hands clasped, he remained silent. She did not awake as he +continued to watch her. + +A little air from the half-closed lips of Felicien must have passed +across Angelique’s face, as all at once she opened her great eyes. Yet +she did not start, but in her turn looked at him with a smile, as if he +were a vision. Yes, it was he! She recognised him well, although he was +greatly changed. But she did not think she was awake, for she often saw +him thus in her dreams, and her trouble was increased when, rousing from +her sleep, she realised the truth. + +He held his hands out towards her and spoke: + +“My dearest, I love you. I was told that you were ill, and came to you +immediately. Look at me! Here I am, and I love you.” + +She straightened herself up quickly. She shuddered, as with a mechanical +movement she passed her fingers over her eyes. + +“Doubt no longer, then. See me at your feet, and realise that I love you +now, as I have ever done.” + +Then she exclaimed: + +“Oh! is it you? I had given up expecting you, and yet you are here.” + +With her feeble, trembling hands, she had taken his, thus assuring +herself that he was not a fanciful vision of her sleep. + +He continued: + +“You have always loved me, and I love you for ever. Yes, notwithstanding +everything; and more deeply even than I should have ever thought it +possible to do.” + +It was an unhoped-for excess of happiness, and in this first minute of +absolute joy they forgot everything else in the world, giving themselves +up to the delightful certainty of their mutual affection, and their +ability to declare it. The sufferings of the past, the obstacles of +the future, had disappeared as if by magic. They did not even think of +asking how it was that they had thus come together. But there they were, +mingling their tears of joy together as they embraced each other with +the purest of feelings: he was overcome with pity that she was so worn +by grief and illness that she seemed like a mere shadow in his arms. In +the enchantment of her surprise she remained half-paralysed, trembling +from exhaustion, radiant with spiritual beauty, as she lay back in her +great easy chair, so physically weary that she could not raise herself +without falling again, but intoxicated with this supreme contentment. + +“Ah, dear Seigneur, my only remaining wish is gratified. I longed to see +you before death came.” + +He lifted up his head, as with a despairing movement, and said: + +“Do not speak of dying. It shall not be. I am here, and I love you.” + +She smiled angelically. + +“I am not afraid to die now that you have assured me of your affection. +The idea no longer terrifies me. I could easily fall asleep in this way, +while leaning on your shoulders. Tell me once more that you love me.” + +“I love you as deeply to-day as I loved you yesterday, and as I will +love you on the morrow. Do not doubt it for one moment, for it is for +eternity! Oh, yes, we will love each other for ever and ever.” + +Angelique was enraptured, and with vague eyes looked directly before +her, as if seeing something beyond the cold whiteness of the chamber. +But evidently she aroused herself, as if just awaking from sleep. In +the midst of this great felicity which had appeased her, she had now had +time for reflection. The true facts of the case astonished her. + +“You have loved me! Yet why did you not at once come to see me?” + +“Your parents said that you cared for me no longer. I also nearly died +when learning that. At last, I was determined to know the whole truth, +and was sent away from the house, the door being absolutely closed +against me, and I was forbidden to return.” + +“Then they shut the door in your face? Yet my mother told me that you +did not love me, and I could but believe her, since having seen you +several times with that young lady, Mademoiselle Claire, I thought +naturally you were obeying your father.” + +“No. I was waiting. But it was cowardly on my part thus to tremble +before him. My great mistake has been to allow the matter to go so +far; for my duty was to have trusted only in you, to have insisted upon +seeing you personally, and to have acted with you.” + +There was a short silence. Angelique sat erect for an instant, as if +she had received a blow, and her expression grew cold and hard, and her +forehead was cut by an angry wrinkle. + +“So we have both of us been deceived. Falsehoods have been told in order +to separate us from each other. Notwithstanding our mutual love, we have +been tortured to such a degree that they have almost killed us both. +Very well, then! It is abominable, and it frees us from the promises we +made. We are now at liberty to act as we will.” + +An intense feeling of contempt so excited her that she stood up on her +feet. She no longer realised that she was ill, but appeared to have +regained her strength miraculously in the reawakening of all the passion +and pride of her nature. To have thought her dream ended, and all at +once to have re-found it in its full beauty and vitality, delighted her. +To be able to say that they had done nothing unworthy of their love, but +that it was other persons who had been the guilty ones, was a comfort. +This growth of herself, this at last certain triumph, exalted her and +threw her into a supreme rebellion. + +She simply said: + +“Come, let us go.” + +And she walked around the room, brave in the return of her energy and +her will. She had already selected a mantle to throw over her shoulders. +A lace scarf would be sufficient for her head. + +Felicien uttered one cry of joy as she thus anticipated his desire. He +had merely thought of this flight, but had not had the boldness to dare +propose it; and how delightful indeed it would be to go away together, +to disappear, and thus put an end to all cares, to overcome all +obstacles. The sooner it was done the better, for then they would avoid +having to contend with reflection or afterthought. + +“Yes, darling, let us go immediately. I was coming to take you. I know +where we can find a carriage. Before daylight we will be far away: so +far that no one will ever be able to overtake us.” + +She opened her drawers, but closed them again violently, without taking +anything therefrom, as her excitement increased. Could it be possible +that she had suffered such torture for so many weeks! She had done +everything in her power to drive him from her mind, to try to convince +herself that he cared no more for her, until at last she thought she +had succeeded in doing so. But it was of no use, and all this abominable +work must be done over again. No! she could never have strength +sufficient for that. Since they loved each other, the simplest thing +in the world to do was to be married, and then no power on earth could +separate them. + +“Let me see. What ought I to take? Oh! how foolish I have been with all +my childish scruples, when I think that others have lowered themselves +so much as even to tell us falsehoods! Yes! even were I to have died, +they would not have called you to me. But, tell me, must I take linen +and dresses? See, here is a warmer gown. What strange ideas, what +unnumbered obstacles, they put in my head. There was good on one side +and evil on the other: things which one might do, and again that which +one should never do; in short, such a complication of matters, it was +enough to make one wild. They were all falsehoods: there was no truth +in any of them. The only real happiness is to live to love the one +who loves you, and to obey the promptings of the heart. You are the +personification of fortune, of beauty, and of youth, my dear Seigneur; +my only pleasure is in you. I give myself to you freely, and you may do +with me what you wish.” + +She rejoiced in this breaking-out of all the hereditary tendencies of +her nature, which she thought had died within her. Sounds of distant +music excited her. She saw as it were their royal departure: this son of +a prince carrying her away as in a fairy-tale, and making her queen +of some imaginary realm; and she was ready to follow him with her arms +clasped around his neck, her head upon his breast, with such a trembling +from intense feeling that her whole body grew weak from happiness. To be +alone together, just they two, to abandon themselves to the galloping +of horses, to flee away, and to disappear in each other’s arms. What +perfect bliss it would be! + +“Is it not better for me to take nothing? What good would it do in +reality?” + +He, partaking of her feverishness, was already at the door, as he +replied: + +“No, no! Take nothing whatever. Let us go at once.” + +“Yes, let us go. That is the best thing to do.” + +And she rejoined him. But she turned round, wishing to give a last +look at the chamber. The lamp was burning with the same soft light, the +bouquet of hydrangeas and hollyhocks was blooming as ever, and in her +work-frame the unfinished rose, bright and natural as life, seemed to +be waiting for her. But the room itself especially affected her. Never +before had it seemed so white and pure to her; the walls, the bed, the +air even, appeared as if filled with a clear, white breath. + +Something within her wavered, and she was obliged to lean heavily +against the back of a chair that was near her and not far from the door. + +“What is the matter?” asked Felicien anxiously. + +She did not reply, but breathed with great difficulty. Then, seized with +a trembling, she could no longer bear her weight on her feet, but was +forced to sit down. + +“Do not be anxious; it is nothing. I only want to rest for a minute and +then we will go.” + +They were silent. She continued to look round the room as if she had +forgotten some valuable object there, but could not tell what it was. +It was a regret, at first slight, but which rapidly increased and filled +her heart by degrees, until it almost stifled her. She could no longer +collect her thoughts. Was it this mass of whiteness that kept her back? +She had always adored white, even to such a degree as to collect bits of +silk and revel over them in secret. + +“One moment, just one moment more, and we will go away, my dear +Seigneur.” + +But she did not even make an effort to rise. Very anxious, he again +knelt before her. + +“Are you suffering, my dear? Cannot I do something to make you feel +better? If you are shivering because you are cold, I will take your +little feet in my hands, and will so warm them that they will grow +strong and be able to run.” + +She shook her head as she replied: + +“No, no, I am not cold. I could walk. But please wait a little, just a +single minute.” + +He saw well that invisible chains seemed again to have taken possession +of her limbs, and, little by little, were attaching themselves so +strongly to her that very soon, perhaps, it would be quite impossible +for him to draw her away. Yet, if he did not take her from there at +once, if they did not flee together, he thought of the inevitable +contest with his father on the morrow, of the distressing interview +before which he had recoiled for weeks past. Then he became pressing, +and besought her most ardently. + +“Come, dear, the highways are not light at this hour; the carriage will +bear us away in the darkness, and we will go on and on, cradled in each +other’s arms, sleeping as if warmly covered with down, not fearing the +night’s freshness; and when the day dawns we will continue our route +in the sunshine, as we go still farther on, until we reach the country +where people are always happy. No one will know us there; we will live +by ourselves, lost in some great garden, having no other care than to +love each other more deeply than ever at the coming of each new day. We +shall find flowers as large as trees, fruits sweeter than honey. And +we will live on nothing, for in the midst of this eternal spring, dear +soul, we will live on our kisses.” + +She trembled under these burning words, with which he heated her face, +and her whole being seemed to be fainting away at the representation of +these promised joys. + +“Oh! in a few minutes I will be ready; but wait a little longer.” + +“Then, if journeying fatigues us, we will come back here. We will +rebuild the Château d’Hautecœur, and we will pass the rest of our +lives there. That is my ideal dream. If it is necessary, we will spend +willingly all our fortune therein. Once more shall its donjon overlook +from its height the two valleys. We will make our home in the Pavilion +d’Honneur, between the Tower of David and the Tower of Charlemagne. +The colossal edifice shall be restored as in the days of its primitive +power: the galleries, the dwellings, the chapels, shall appear in the +same barbaric luxury as before. And I shall wish for us to lead the life +of olden times; you a princess and I a prince, surrounded by a large +company of armed vassals and of pages. Our walls of fifteen feet of +thickness will isolate us, and we shall be as our ancestors were, of +whom it is written in the Legend. When the sun goes down behind the +hills we will return from hunting, mounted on great white horses, +greeted respectfully by the peasants as they kneel before us. The horn +will resound in welcome, the drawbridge will be lowered for us. In the +evening, kings will dine at our table. At night, our couch will be on a +platform surmounted by a canopy like a throne. While we sleep peacefully +in purple and gold, soft music will be played in the distance.” + +Quivering with pride and pleasure, she smiled now, but soon, overcome by +the great suffering that again took possession of her, her lips assumed +a mournful expression and the smile disappeared. As with a mechanical +movement of her hands she drove away the tempting pictures he called +forth, he redoubled his ardour, and wished to make her his by seizing +her and carrying her away in his arms. + +“Come, dear. Come with me. Let us go, and forget everything but our +united happiness.” + +Disengaging herself brusquely, she escaped him, with an instinctive +rebellion, and trying to stand up, this cry came at last from her: + +“No, no! I cannot go. I no longer have the power to do so.” + +However, again lamenting her fate, still torn by the contest in +her soul, hesitating and stammering, she again turned towards him +imploringly. + +“I beg you to be good and not hurry me too much, but wait awhile. I +would so gladly obey you, in order to prove to you my love; I would like +above all to go away on your arm to that beautiful far-away country, +where we could live royally in the castle of your dreams. It seems to me +an easy thing to do, so often have I myself planned our flight. Yet now, +what shall I say to you? It appears to me quite an impossibility; it +is as if a door had suddenly been walled up between us and prevented me +from going out.” + +He wished to try to fascinate her again, but she quieted him with a +movement of her hands. + +“No; do not say anything more. It is very singular, but in proportion +as you utter such sweet, such tender words, which ought to convince me, +fear takes possession of me and chills me to the heart. My God! What is +the matter with me? It is really that which you say which drives me from +you. If you continue, I can no longer listen to you; you will be obliged +to go away. Yet wait--wait a little longer!” + +She walked very slowly about the room, anxiously seeking to resume her +self-control, while he looked at her in despair. + +“I thought to have loved you no longer; but it was certainly only a +feeling of pique, since just now, as soon as I found you again at my +feet, my heart beat rapidly, and my first impulse was to follow you as +if I were your slave. Then, if I love you, why am I afraid of you? What +is it that prevents me from leaving this room, as if invisible hands +were holding me back by my whole body, and even by each hair of my +head?” + +She had stopped near her bed; then she went as far as the wardrobe, then +to the different articles of furniture, one after the other. They all +seemed united to her person by invisible ties. Especially the walls of +the room, the grand whiteness of the mansard roof, enveloped her with +a robe of purity, that she could leave behind her only with tears; and +henceforth all this would be a part of her being; the spirit of her +surroundings had entered into her. And she realised this fact stronger +than ever when she found herself opposite her working-frame, which was +resting at the side of the table under the lamplight. Her heart softened +as she saw the half-made rose, which she would never finish were she to +go away in this secret, criminal manner. The years of work were brought +back to her mind: those quiet, happy years, during which life had been +one long experience of peace and honesty, so that now she rebelled at +the thought of committing a fault and of thus fleeing in the arms of +her lover. Each day in this little, fresh house of the embroiderers, +the active and pure life she had led there, away from all worldly +temptations, had, as it were, made over all the blood in her veins. + +Then Felicien, realising that in some inexplicable way Angelique was +being reconquered and brought to her better self, felt the necessity of +hastening their departure. He seized her hands and said: + +“Come, dear. Time passes quickly. If we wait much longer it will be too +late.” + +She looked at him an instant, and then in a flash realised her true +position. Freeing herself from his grasp she exclaimed, resolutely and +frankly: + +“It is already too late. You can see for yourself that I am unable now +to follow you. Once my nature was so proud and passionate that I could +have thrown my two arms around your neck in order that you might carry +me away all the more quickly. But now I am no longer the same person. I +am so changed that I do not recognise myself. Yes, I realise now that +it is this quiet corner where I have been brought up, and the education +that has been given me, that has made me what I am at present. Do you +then yourself hear nothing? Do you not know that everything in this +chamber calls upon me to stay? And I do not rebel in the least against +this demand, for my joy at last is to obey.” + +Without speaking, without attempting to discuss the question with her, +he tried to take her hands again, and to lead her like an intractable +child. Again she avoided him and turned slowly toward the window. + +“No, I beseech you to leave me. It is not my hand that you wish for, it +is my heart; and also that, of my own free will, I shall at once go away +with you. But I tell you plainly that I do not wish to do so. A while +ago I thought to have been as eager for flight as you are. But sure of +my true self now, I know it was only the last rebellion, the agony of +the old nature within me, that has just died. Little by little, without +my knowledge, the good traits of my character have been drawn together +and strongly united: humility, duty, and renunciation. So at each return +of hereditary tendency to excess, the struggle has been less severe, and +I have triumphed over temptation more easily. Now, at last, everything +assures me that the supreme contest has just taken place; that +henceforth it is finished for ever. I have conquered myself, and my +nature is freed from the evil tendencies it had. Ah! dear Seigneur, +I love you so much! Do not let us do the slightest thing to mar our +happiness. To be happy it is always necessary to submit.” + +As he took another step towards her, she was at the threshold of the +great window, which was now wide open on to the balcony. She had stopped +him with a half-smile as she said: + +“You would not like to force me to throw myself down from here. Listen, +and understand me when I say to you that everything which surrounds +me is on my side. I have already told you that for a long time objects +themselves have spoken to me. I hear voices in all directions, and never +have they been so distinct as at this moment. Hear! It is the whole +Clos-Marie that encourages me not to spoil my life and yours by giving +myself to you without the consent of your father. This singing voice is +the Chevrotte, so clear and so fresh that it seems to have put within me +a purity like crystal since I have lived so near it. This other +voice, like that of a crowd, tender and deep, it is that of the entire +earth--the grasses, the trees, all the peaceable life of this sacred +corner which has so constantly worked for the good of my soul. + +“And there are other voices which come from still farther away, from the +elms of the garden of Monseigneur, and from this horizon of branches, +the smallest of which interests itself in me, and wishes for me to be +victorious. + +“Then, again, this great, sovereign voice, it is that of my old friend, +the Cathedral, who, eternally awake, both day and night, has taught me +many important things. Each one of the stones in the immense building, +the little columns in the windows, the bell-towers of its piers, +the flying buttresses of its apse, all have a murmur which I can +distinguish, a language which I understand. Listen to what they say: +that hope remains even in death. When one is really humble, love alone +remains and triumphs. And at last, look! The air itself is filled with +the whisperings of spirits. See, here are my invisible companions, the +virgins, who are ever near me and aid me. Listen, listen!” + +Smiling, she had lifted up her hand with an air of the deepest +attention, and her whole being was in ecstasy from the scattered +breathings she heard. They were the virgins of the “Golden Legend” + that her imagination called forth, as in her early childhood, and whose +mystic flight came from the old book with its quaint pictures, that was +placed on the little table. Agnes was first, clothed with her beautiful +hair, having on her finger the ring of betrothal to the Priest Paulin. +Then all the others came in turn. Barbara with her tower; Genevieve +with her sheep; Cecilia with her viol; Agatha with her wounded breast; +Elizabeth begging on the highways, and Catherine triumphing over the +learned doctors. She did not forget the miracle that made Lucy so heavy +that a thousand men and five yoke of oxen could not carry her away: nor +the Governor who became blind as he tried to embrace Anastasia. Then +others who seemed flying through the quiet night, still bearing marks of +the wounds inflicted upon them by their cruel martyrdom, and from which +rivers of milk were flowing instead of blood. Ah! to die from love like +them, to die in the purity of youth at the first kiss of a beloved one! + +Felicien had approached her. + +“I am the one person who really lives, Angelique, and you cannot give me +up for mere fancies.” + +“Dreams!--fancies!” she murmured. + +“Yes; for if in reality these visions seem to surround you, it is simply +that you yourself have created them all. Come, dear; no longer put a +part of your life into objects about you, and they will be quiet.” + +She gave way to a burst of enthusiastic feeling. + +“Oh no! Let them speak. Let them call out louder still! They are my +strength; they give me the courage to resist you. It is a manifestation +of the Eternal Grace, and never has it overpowered me so energetically +as now. If it is but a dream, a dream which I have placed in my +surroundings, and which comes back to me at will, what of it? It +saves me, it carries me away spotless in the midst of dangers. Listen +yourself. Yield, and obey like me. I no longer have even a wish to +follow you.” + +In spite of her weakness, she made a great effort and stood up, resolute +and firm. + +“But you have been deceived,” he said. “Even falsehood has been resorted +to in order to separate us!” + +“The faults of others will not excuse our own.” + +“Ah! You have withdrawn your heart from me, and you love me no longer.” + +“I love you. I oppose you only on account of our love and for our mutual +happiness. Obtain the consent of your father; then come for me, and I +will follow you no matter where.” + +“My father! You do not know him. God only could ever make him yield. +Tell me, then, is this really to be the end of everything? If my father +orders me to marry Claire de Voincourt, must I in that case obey him?” + +At this last blow Angelique tottered. Was no torture to be spared her? +She could not restrain this heartbroken cry: + +“Oh! that is too much! My sufferings are greater than I can bear. I +beseech you go away quickly and do not be so cruel. Why did you come at +all? I was resigned. I had learned to accept the misfortune of being +no longer loved by you. Yet the moment that I am reassured of your +affection, all my martyrdom recommences; and how can you expect me to +live now?” + +Felicien, not aware of the depth of her despair, and thinking that she +had yielded simply to a momentary feeling, repeated his question: + +“If my father wishes me to marry her----” + +She struggled heroically against her intense suffering; she succeeded +in standing up, notwithstanding that her heart was crushed, and dragging +herself slowly towards the table, as if to make room for him to pass +her, she said: + +“Marry her, for it is always necessary to obey.” + +In his turn he was now before the window, ready to take his departure, +because she had sent him away from her. + +“But it will make you die if I do so.” + +She had regained her calmness, and, smiling sadly, she replied: + +“Oh! that work is nearly done already.” + +For one moment more he looked at her, so pale, so thin, so wan; light +as a feather, to be carried away by the faintest breath. Then, with a +brusque movement of furious resolution, he disappeared in the night. + +When he was no longer there, Angelique, leaning against the back of her +armchair, stretched her hands out in agony towards the darkness, and her +frail body was shaken by heavy sobs, and cold perspiration came out upon +her face and neck. + +“My God!” This, then, was the end, and she would never see him again. +All her weakness and pain had come back to her. Her exhausted limbs no +longer supported her. It was with great difficulty that she could regain +her bed, upon which she fell helpless, but calm in spirit from the +assurance that she had done right. + +The next morning they found her there, dying. The lamp had just gone out +of itself, at the dawn of day, and everything in the chamber was of a +triumphal whiteness. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Angelique was dying. + +It was ten o’clock one cold morning towards the end of the winter, the +air was sharp, and the clear heavens were brightened up by the +beautiful sunshine. In her great royal bed, draped with its old, faded, +rose-coloured chintz, she lay motionless, having been unconscious during +the whole night. Stretched upon her back, her little ivory-like hands +carelessly thrown upon the sheet, she no longer even opened her eyes, +and her finely-cut profile looked more delicate than ever under the +golden halo of her hair; in fact, anyone who had seen her would have +thought her already dead, had it not been for the slight breathing +movement of her lips. + +The day before, Angelique, realising that she was very ill, had +confessed, and partaken of the Communion. Towards three o’clock in +the afternoon the good Abbé Cornille had brought to her the sacred +_Viaticum_. Then in the evening, as the chill of death gradually crept +over her, a great desire came to her to receive the Extreme Unction, +that celestial remedy, instituted for the cure of both the soul and +body. Before losing consciousness, her last words, scarcely murmured, +were understood by Hubertine, as in hesitating sentences she +expressed her wish for the holy oils. “Yes--oh yes!--as quickly--as +possible--before it is too late.” + +But death advanced. They had waited until day, and the Abbé, having been +notified, was about to come. + +Everything was now ready to receive the clergyman. The Huberts had just +finished arranging the room. Under the gay sunlight, which at this early +morning hour struck fully upon the window-panes, it looked pure as the +dawn in the nudity of its great white walls. The table had been covered +with a fresh damask cloth. At the right and the left of the crucifix two +large wax-tapers were burning in the silver candelabrum which had been +brought up from the parlour, and there were also there the consecrated +wafers, the asperges brush, an ewer of water with its basin and a +napkin, and two plates of white porcelain, one of which was filled with +long bits of cotton, and the other with little _cornets_ of paper. The +greenhouses of the lower town had been thoroughly searched, but the +only inodorous flowers that had been found were the peonies--great white +peonies, enormous tufts of which adorned the table, like a shimmering +of white lace. And in the midst of this intense whiteness, Angelique, +dying, with closed eyes, still breathed gently with a half-perceptible +breath. + +The doctor, who had made his first morning visit, had said that she +could not live through the day. She might, indeed, pass away at any +moment, without even having come to her senses at all. The Huberts, +resolute and grave, waited in silent despair. Notwithstanding their +grief and tears, it was evidently necessary that this should be the end. +If they had ever wished for this death, preferring to lose their dear +child rather than to have her rebellious, it was evident that God also +wished it with them, and now, that in this last trying moment they were +quite powerless, they could only submit themselves to the inevitable. +They regretted nothing, although their sorrow seemed greater than they +could bear. Since she, their darling, had been there, suffering from +her long illness, they had taken the entire care of her day and night, +refusing all aid offered them from outside. They were still there alone +in this supreme hour, and they waited. + +Hubert, scarcely knowing what he did, walked mechanically to the +porcelain stove, the door of which he opened, for the gentle roaring of +the flaming wood sounded to him like a plaintive moan; then there was a +perfect silence. The peonies seemed even to turn paler in the soft heat +of the room. + +Hubertine, stronger than her husband, and still fully conscious of all +she did, listened to the sounds of the Cathedral as they came to +her from behind the walls. During the past moment the old stones had +vibrated from the swinging of the bell of the great tower. It must +certainly be the Abbé Cornille leaving the church with the sacred oils, +she thought; so she went downstairs, that she might receive him at the +door of the house. + +Two minutes later, the narrow stairway of the little tower was filled +with a great murmuring sound. Then in the warm chamber, Hubert, struck +with astonishment, suddenly began to tremble, whilst a religious fear, +mingled with a faint hope, made him fall upon his knees. Instead of the +old clergyman whom they had expected, it was Monseigneur who entered. +Yes! Monseigneur, in lace surplice, having the violet stole, and +carrying the silver vessel in which was the oil for the sick, which he +himself had blessed on Holy Thursday. His eagle-like eyes were fixed, +as he looked straight before him; his beautiful pale face was really +majestic under the thick, curly masses of his white hair. Behind him +walked the Abbé Cornille, like a simple clerk, carrying in one hand a +crucifix, and under the other a book of ritual service. + +Standing for a moment upon the threshold, the bishop said in a deep, +grave voice: + +“_Pax huic domui_.” (“Peace be to this house.”) + +“_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_,” replied the priest in a lower tone. +(“And to all the inhabitants thereof.”) + +When they had entered, Hubertine, who had come up the stairs after them, +she also trembling from surprise and emotion, went and knelt by the +side of her husband. Both of them prostrated themselves most humbly, and +prayed fervently from the depths of their souls. + +A few hours after his last visit to Angelique, Felicien had had the +terrible and dreaded explanation with his father. Early in the morning +of that same day he had found open the doors, he had penetrated even +into the Oratory, where the Bishop was still at prayer, after one of +those nights of frightful struggling against the memories of the past, +which would so constantly reappear before him. In the soul of this +hitherto always respectful son, until now kept submissive by fear, +rebellion against authority, so long a time stifled, suddenly broke +forth, and the collision of these two men of the same blood, with +natures equally prompt to violence, was intense. The old man had left +his devotional chair, and with cheeks growing purple by degrees, he +listened silently as he stood there in his proud obstinacy. The young +man, with face equally inflamed, poured out everything that was in +his heart, speaking in a voice that little by little grew louder and +rebuking. He said that Angelique was not only ill, but dying. He told +him that in a pressing moment of temptation, overcome by his deep +affection, he had wished to take her away with him that they might flee +together, and that she, with the submissive humility of a saint, and +chaste as a lily, had refused to accompany him. Would it not be a most +abominable murder to allow this obedient young girl to die, because she +had been unwilling to accept him unless when offered to her by the hand +of his father? She loved him so sincerely that she could die for him. In +fact, she could have had him, with his name and his fortune, but she +had said “No,” and, triumphant over her feelings, she had struggled +with herself in order to do her duty. Now, after such a proof of her +goodness, could he permit her to suffer so much grief? Like her, he +would be willing to give up everything, to die even, if it might be, and +he realised that he was cowardly. He despised himself for not being at +her side, that they might pass out of life together, by the same breath. +Was it possible that anyone could be so cruel as to wish to torment +them, that they should both have so sad a death, when one word, one +simple word, would secure them such bliss? Ah! the pride of name, the +glory of wealth, persistence in one’s determination: all these were +nothing in comparison to the fact that by the union of two hearts the +eternal happiness of two human beings was assured. He joined his +hands together, he twisted them feverishly, quite beside himself as +he demanded his father’s consent, still supplicating, already almost +threatening. But the Bishop, with face deeply flushed by the mounting +of his blood, with swollen lips, with flaming eyes, terrible in his +unexpressed anger, at last opened his mouth, only to reply by this word +of parental authority: “Never!” + +Then Felicien, absolutely raving in his rebellion, lost all control over +himself. + +He spoke of his mother, he really threatened his father by the +remembrance of the dead. It was she who had come back again in the shape +of her son to vindicate and reclaim the right of affection. Could it be +that his father had never loved her? Had he even rejoiced in her death, +since he showed himself so harsh towards those who loved each other, and +who wished to live? But he might well do all he could to become cold in +the renunciations demanded by the Church; she would come back to haunt +and to torture him, because he was willing to torture the child they +had had, the living witness of their affection for each other. She would +always be there, so long as their son lived. She wished to reappear in +the children of their child for ever. And he was causing her to die +over again, by refusing to her son the betrothed of his choice, the +one through whom the race was to be continued. When a man had once been +married to a woman, he should never think of wedding the Church. Face to +face with his father, who, motionless, appeared in his fearful silence +to grow taller and taller, he uttered unfilial, almost murderous words. +Then, shocked at himself, he rushed away, shuddering at the extent to +which passion had carried him. + +When once more alone, Monseigneur, as if stabbed in the full breast by +a sharp weapon, turned back upon himself and struggled deeply with his +soul, as he knelt upon his prie-Dieu. A half-rattling sound came +from his throat. Oh! these frightful heart contests, these invincible +weaknesses of the flesh. This woman, and his beloved dead, who was +constantly coming back to life, he adored her now, as he did the first +evening when he kissed her white feet; and this son, he idolised him as +belonging to her, as a part of her life, which she had left to him. And +even the young girl, the little working girl whom he had repulsed, he +loved her also with a tenderness like that of his son for her. Now his +nights were inexpressibly agitated by all three. Without his having been +willing to acknowledge it, had she then touched him so deeply as he saw +her in the great Cathedral, this little embroiderer, with her golden +hair, her fresh pure neck, in all the perfume of her youth? He saw her +again; she passed before him, so delicate, so pure in her victorious +submission. No remorse could have come to him with a step more certain +or more conquering. He might reject her with a loud voice. He knew well +that henceforth she held him strongly by the heart with her humble hands +that bore the signs of work. Whilst Felicien was so violently +beseeching him, he seemed to see them both behind the blonde head of the +petitioner--these two idolised women, the one for whom his son prayed, +and the one who had died for her child. They were there in all their +physical beauty, in all their loving devotion, and he could not tell +where he had found strength to resist, so entirely did his whole being +go out towards them. Overcome, sobbing, not knowing how he could again +become calm, he demanded from Heaven the courage to tear out his heart, +since this heart belonged no longer to God alone. + +Until evening Monseigneur continued at prayer. When he at last +reappeared he was white as wax, distressed, anxious, but still resolute. +He could do nothing more, but he repeated to his son the terrible +word--“Never!” It was God alone who had the right to relieve him from +his promise; and God, although implored, gave him no sign of change. It +was necessary to suffer. + +Some days had passed. Felicien constantly wandered round the little +house, wild with grief, eager for news. Each time that he saw anyone +come out he almost fainted from fear. Thus it happened that on the +morning when Hubertine ran to the church to ask for the sacred oils, he +learned that Angelique could not live through the day. The Abbé Cornille +was not at the Sacristy, and he rushed about the town to find him, still +having a last hope that through the intervention of the good man some +Divine aid might come. Then, as he brought back with him the sought-for +clergyman, his hope left him, and he had a frightful attack of doubt and +anger. What should he do? In what way could he force Heaven to come to +his assistance? He went away, hastened to the Bishop’s palace, the +doors of which he again forced open, and before his incoherent words his +father was for a moment frightened. At last he understood. Angelique +was dying! She awaited the Extreme Unction, and now God alone could save +her. The young man had only come to cry out all his agony, to break all +relations with this cruel, unnatural father, and to accuse him to his +face of willingly allowing this death. But Monseigneur listened to him +without anger: upright and very serious, his eyes suddenly brightened +with a strange clearness, as if an inner voice had spoken to him. +Motioning to his son to lead the way, he followed him, simply saying at +last: + +“If God wishes it, I also wish it.” + +Felicien trembled so that he could scarcely move. His father consented, +freed from his personal vow, to submit himself to the goodwill of the +hoped-for miracle. Henceforth they, as individuals, counted for nothing. +God must act for himself. Tears blinded him. Whilst in the Sacristy +Monseigneur took the sacred oils from the hands of the Abbé Cornille. He +accompanied them, almost staggering; he did not dare to enter into the +chamber, but fell upon his knees at the threshold of the door, which was +open wide. + +The voice of the Bishop was firm, as he said: + +“_Pax huic domui_.” + +“_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_,” the priest replied. + +Monseigneur had just placed on the white table, between the two +wax-candles, the sacred oils, making in the air the sign of the cross, +with the silver vase. Then he took from the hands of the Abbé the +crucifix, and approached the sufferer that he might make her kiss it. +But Angelique was still unconscious: her eyes were closed, her mouth +shut, her hands rigid, and looking like the little stiff figures of +stone placed upon tombs. He examined her for a moment, and, seeing by +the slight movement of her chest that she was not dead, he placed upon +her lips the crucifix. He waited. His face preserved the majesty of +a minister of penitence, and no signs of emotion were visible when he +realised that not even a quivering had passed over the exquisite profile +of the young girl, nor in her beautiful hair. She still lived, however, +and that was sufficient for the redemption of her sins. + +The Abbé then gave to Monseigneur the vessel of holy water and the +asperges brush, and while he held open before him the ritual book, he +threw the holy water upon the dying girl, as he read the Latin words, +_Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem +dealbabor_. (“Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: +thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”) + +The drops sprang forth in every direction, and the whole bed was +refreshed by them as if sprinkled with dew. It rained upon her hands +and upon her cheeks; but one by one the drops rolled away as if from +insensible marble. At last the Bishop turned towards the assistants and +sprinkled them in their turn. Hubert and Hubertine, kneeling side by +side, in the full union of their perfect faith, bent humbly under the +shower of this benediction. Then Monseigneur blessed also the chamber, +the furniture, the white walls in all their bare purity, and as he +passed near the door he found himself before his son, who had fallen +down on the threshold, and was sobbing violently, having covered his +face with his burning hands. With a slow movement, he raised three times +the asperges brush, and he purified him with a gentle rain. This holy +water, spread everywhere, was intended at first to drive away all evil +spirits, who were flying by crowds, although invisible. Just at this +moment a pale ray of the winter sun passed over the bed, and a multitude +of atoms, light specks of dust, seemed to be living therein. They were +innumerable as they came down from an angle of the window, as if to +bathe with their warmth the cold hands of the dying. + +Going again towards the table, Monseigneur repeated the prayer, “_Exaudi +nos_.” (“Give ear to us.”) + +He made no haste. It was true that death was there, hovering near the +old, faded chintz curtains, but he knew that it was patient, and that +it would wait. And although in her state of utter prostration the child +could not hear him, he addressed her as he asked her: + +“Is there nothing upon your conscience which distresses you? Confess all +your doubts and fears, my daughter; relieve your mind.” + +She was still in the same position, and she was always silent. When, in +vain, he had given time for a reply, he commenced the exhortation with +the same full voice, without appearing to notice that none of his words +reached her ear. + +“Collect your thoughts, meditate, demand from the depths of your soul +pardon from God. The Sacrament will purify you, and will strengthen +you anew. Your eyes will become clear, your ears chaste, your nostrils +fresh, your mouth pure, your hands innocent.” + +With eyes fixed upon her, he continued reading to the end all that was +necessary for him to say; while she scarcely breathed, nor did one of +her closed eyelids move. Then he said: + +“Recite the Creed.” + +And having waited awhile, he repeated it himself: + +“_Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem_.” (“I believe in one God, the +Father Almighty.”) + +“Amen,” replied the Abbé Cornille. + +All this time the heavy sobbing of Felicien was heard, as upon the +landing-place he wept in the enervation of hope. Hubert and Hubertine +still prayed fervently, with the same anxious waiting and desire, as if +they had felt descend upon them all the invisible powers of the Unknown. +A change now came in the service, from the murmur of half-spoken +prayers. Then the litanies of the ritual were unfolded, the invocation +to all the Saints, the flight of the Kyrie Eleison, calling Heaven to +the aid of miserable humanity, mounting each time with great outbursts, +like the fume of incense. + +Then the voices suddenly fell, and there was a deep silence. Monseigneur +washed his fingers in the few drops of water that the Abbé poured out +from the ewer. At length he took the vessel of sacred oil, opened the +cover thereof, and placed himself before the bed. It was the solemn +approach of the Sacrament of this last religious ceremony, by the +efficacy of which are effaced all mortal or venial sins not pardoned, +which rest in the soul after having received the other sacraments, old +remains of forgotten sins, sins committed unwittingly, sins of languor +which prevented one from being firmly re-established in the grace of +God. The pure white chamber seemed to be like the individuals collected +therein, motionless, and in a state of surprise and expectation. Where +could all these sins be found? They must certainly come from outside in +this great band of sun’s rays, filled with dancing specks of dust, which +appeared to bring germs of life even to this great royal couch, so white +and cold from the coming of death to a pure young maiden. + +Monseigneur meditated a moment, fixing his looks again upon Angelique, +assuring himself that the slight breath had not ceased, struggling +against all human emotion, as he saw how thin she was, with the beauty +of an archangel, already immaterial. His voice retained the authority of +a divine disinterestedness, and his thumb did not tremble when he dipped +it into the sacred oils as he commenced the unctions on the five parts +of the body where dwell the senses: the five windows by which evil +enters into the soul. + +First upon the eyes, upon the closed eyelids, the right and then the +left; and slowly, lightly, he traced with his thumb the sign of the +Cross. + +“_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum deliquisti_.” (“By this holy +anointing and His gracious mercy, the Lord forgive whatever sins thou +hast committed through _seeing_.”)[*] + + [*] This formula is repeated with reference to the other + senses--hearing, smell, taste, and touch. + +And the sins of the sight were redeemed; lascivious looks, immodest +curiosity, the pride of spectacles, unwholesome readings, tears shed for +guilty troubles. + +And she, dear child, knew no other book than the “Golden Legend,” no +other horizon than the apse of the Cathedral, which hid from view all +the rest of the world. She had wept only in the struggle of obedience +and the renunciation of passion. + +The Abbé Cornille wiped both her eyes with a bit of cotton, which he +afterwards put into one of the little cornets of paper. + +Then Monseigneur anointed the ears, with their lobes as delicate and +transparent as pearl, first the right ear, afterwards the left, scarcely +moistened with the sign of the cross. + +“_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per auditum deliquisti_.” + +So all the abominations of hearing were atoned for: all the words and +music which corrupt, the slanders, the calumnies, the blasphemies, the +sinful propositions listened to with complacency, the falsehoods of love +which aided the forgetfulness of duty, the profane songs which excited +the senses, the violins of the orchestra which, as it were, wept +voluptuously under the brilliant lights. + +She in her isolated life, like that of a cloistered nun--she had never +even heard the free gossip of the neighbours, or the oath of a carman as +he whips his horses. The only music that had ever entered her ears was +that of the sacred hymns, the rumblings of the organs, the confused +murmurings of prayers, with which at times vibrated all this fresh +little house, so close to the side of the great church. + +The Abbé, after having dried the ears with cotton, put that bit also +into one of the white cornets. + +Monseigneur now passed to the nostrils, the right and then the left, +like two petals of a white rose, which he purified by touching them with +the sacred oil and making on them the sign of the cross. + +“_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per odoratum deliquisti_.” + +And the sense of smell returned to its primitive innocence, cleansed +from all stain: not only from the carnal disgrace of perfumes, from +the seduction of flowers with breath too sweet, from the scattered +fragrances of the air which put the soul to sleep; but yet again from +the faults of the interior sense, the bad examples given to others, and +the contagious pestilence of scandal. Erect and pure, she had at last +become a lily among the lilies, a great lily whose perfume fortified the +weak and delighted the strong. In fact, she was so truly delicate that +she could never endure the powerful odour of carnations, the musk of +lilacs, the feverish sweetness of hyacinths, and was only at ease with +the scentless blossoms, like the marguerites and the periwinkles. + +Once more the Abbé, with the cotton, dried the anointed parts, and +slipped the little tuft into another of the cornets. + +Then Monseigneur, descending to the closed mouth, through which the +faint breath was now scarcely perceptible, made upon the lower lip the +sign of the cross. + +“_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per gustum deliquisti_.” + +This time it was the pardon for the base gratifications of taste, +greediness, too great a desire for wine, or for sweets; but especially +the forgiveness for sins of the tongue, that universally guilty member, +the provoker, the poisoner, the inventor of quarrels, the inciter to +wars, which makes one utter words of error and falsehood which at length +obscure even the heavens. Yet her whole mouth was only a chalice of +innocence. She had never had the vice of gluttony, for she had taught +herself, like Elizabeth, to eat whatever was set before her, without +paying great attention to her food. And if it were true that she lived +in error, it was the fault of her dream which had placed her there, the +hope of a beyond, the consolation of what was invisible, and all the +world of enchantment which her ignorance had created and which had made +of her a saint. + +The Abbé having dried the lips, folded the bit of cotton in the fourth +white cornet. + +At last Monseigneur anointed first the right and then the left palms of +the two little ivory-like hands, lying open upon the sheet, and cleansed +them from their sins with the sign of the cross. + +“_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per tactum deliquisti_.” + +And the whole body was purified, being washed from its last spots--those +of the touch the most repugnant of all. Pilfering, fighting, murder, +without counting other sins of the breast, the body, and the feet, which +were also redeemed by this unction. All which burns in the flesh, our +anger, our desires, our unruled passions, the snares and pitfalls into +which we run, and all forbidden joys by which we are tempted. Since she +had been there, dying from her victory over herself, she had conquered +her few failings, her pride and her passion, as if she had inherited +original sin simply for the glory of triumphing over it. She knew not, +even, that she had had other wishes, that love had drawn her towards +disobedience, so armed was she with the breastplate of ignorance of +evil, so pure and white was her soul. + +The Abbé wiped the little motionless hands, and putting the last puff of +cotton in the remaining cornet, he threw the five papers into the fire +at the back of the stove. + +The ceremony was finished. Monseigneur washed his fingers before saying +the final prayer. He had now only to again exhort the dying, in placing +in her hand the symbolic taper, to drive away the demons, and to show +that she had just recovered her baptismal innocence. But she remained +rigid, her eyes closed, her mouth shut as if dead. The holy oils had +purified her body, the signs of the cross had left their traces on the +five windows of the soul, without making the slightest wave of colour, +or of life, mount to her cheeks. + +Although implored and hoped for, the prodigy did not appear, and the +room was silent and anxious. Hubert and Hubertine, still kneeling +side by side, no longer prayed, but, with their eyes fixed upon their +darling, gazed so earnestly that they both seemed motionless for ever, +like the figures of the _donataires_ who await the Resurrection in a +corner of an old painted glass window. Felicien had drawn himself up on +his knees and was now at the door, having ceased from sobbing, as with +head erect he also might see if God would always remain deaf to their +prayers. Was it then a mere lure? Would not this holy Sacrament bring +her back to life? + +For the last time Monseigneur approached the bed, followed by the Abbé +Cornille, who held, already lighted, the wax-taper which was to be +placed in the hand of the young girl. And the Bishop, not willing +to acknowledge the state of unconsciousness in which she remained, +determining to go even to the end of the rite, that God might have time +in which to work, pronounced the formula:-- + +“_Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas in +saecula saeculorum_.” (“Receive this light, and keep the unction thou +hast received, that when the Lord shall come to judgment thou mayest +meet Him with all His saints, and live with Him for ever and ever.”) + +“Amen,” replied the Abbé. + +But when they endeavoured to open Angelique’s hand and to press it round +the taper, the hand, powerless, as if already dead, escaped them and +fell back upon her breast. + +Then, little by little, Monseigneur yielded to a great nervous +trembling. It was the emotion which, for a long time restrained, +now broke out within him, carrying away with it the last rigidity of +priesthood. He dearly loved her, this child, from the day when she had +come to sob at his feet, so innocent, and showing so plainly the pure +freshness of her youth. Since then, in his nights of distress, he had +contended chiefly against her, to defend himself from the overwhelming +tenderness with which she inspired him. At this moment she was worthy of +pity, with this pallor of death, with an ethereal beauty which showed, +however, so deep a suffering that he could not look at her without his +heart being secretly overwhelmed with distress. + +He could no longer control himself. His eyelids were swollen by the +great tears which at last rolled down his cheeks. She must not die in +this way: he was conquered by her touching charms even in death, and all +his paternal feelings went out towards her. + +Then Monseigneur, recalling to mind the numerous miracles of his race, +the power which had been given them by Heaven to heal, thought that +doubtless God awaited his consent as a father. He invoked Saint Agnes, +before whom all his ancestors had offered up their devotions, and as +Jean V. d’Hautecœur prayed at the bedside of those smitten by the plague +and kissed them, so now he prayed and kissed Angelique upon her lips. + +“If God wishes, I also wish it.” + +Immediately Angelique opened her eyelids. She looked at the Bishop +without surprise as she awoke from her long trance, and, her lips still +warm from the kiss, smiled upon him. These things were not strange to +her, for they certainly must have been realised sooner or later, and +it might be that she was coming out of one dream only to have another +still; but it seemed to her perfectly natural that Monseigneur should +have come to betroth her to Felicien, since the hour for that ceremony +had arrived. In a few minutes, unaided, she sat up in the middle of her +great royal bed. + +The Bishop, radiant, showing by his expression his clear appreciation of +the remarkable prodigy, repeated the formula:-- + +“_Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas in +saecula saeculorum_.” + +“Amen,” replied the Abbé. + +Angelique had taken the lighted taper, and held it up with a firm hand. +Life had come back to her, like the flame of the candle, which was +burning clear and bright, driving away the spirits of the night. + +A great cry resounded through the room. Felicien was standing up, as if +raised by the power of the miracle, while the Huberts, overwhelmed by +the same feeling, remained upon their knees, with wonder-stricken eyes, +with delighted countenances, before that which they had seen. The bed +had appeared to them enveloped with a brilliant light; white masses +seemed still to be mounting up on the rays of the sunlight, and the +great walls, the whole room in fact, kept a white lustre, as that of +snow. + +In the midst of all, Angelique, like a refreshed lily, replaced upon +its branch, appeared in the clear light. Her fine golden hair was like a +halo of glory around her head, her violet-coloured eyes shone divinely, +and her pure face beamed with a living splendour. + +Felicien, seeing that she was saved, touched by the Divine grace that +Heaven had vouchsafed them, approached her, and knelt by the side of the +bed. + +“Ah! dear soul, you recognise us now, and you will live. I am yours. My +father wishes it to be so, since God has desired it.” + +She bowed her head, smiling sweetly as she said, “Oh! I knew it must be +so, and waited for it. All that I have foreseen will come to pass.” + +Monseigneur, who had regained his usual proud serenity, placed the +crucifix once more on her lips, and this time she kissed it as a +submissive servant. Then, with a full movement of his hands, through +the room, above the heads of all present, the Bishop gave the final +benediction, while the Huberts and the Abbé Cornille wept. + +Felicien had taken one of the little hands of Angelique, while in the +other little hand the taper of innocence burned bright and clear. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The marriage was fixed for the early part of March. But Angelique +remained very feeble, notwithstanding the joy which radiated from her +whole person. She had wished after the first week of her convalescence +to go down to the workroom, persisting in her determination to finish +the panel of embroidery in bas-relief which was to be used for the +Bishop’s chair. + +“It would be,” she said cheerfully, “her last, best piece of work; and +besides, no one ever leaves,” she added, “an order only half-completed.” + +Then exhausted by the effort, she was again forced to keep her chamber. +She lived there, happy and smiling, without regaining the full health +of former times, always white and immaterial as the sacred sacramental +oils; going and coming with a gentle step like that of a vision, and +after having occasionally made the exertion of walking as far as from +her table to the window, finding herself obliged to rest quietly for +hours and give herself up to her sweet thoughts. At length they deferred +the wedding-day, thinking it better to wait for her complete recovery, +which must certainly come if she were well nursed and cared for. + +Every afternoon Felicien went up to see her. Hubert and Hubertine were +there, and they passed together most delightful hours, during which they +continually made and re-made the same bright projects. Seated in her +great chair she laughed gaily, seemed trembling with life and vivacity, +as she was the first to talk of the days which would be so well filled +when together they could take long journeys; and of all the unknown +joys that would come to them after they had restored the old Château +d’Hautecœur. Anyone, to have seen her then, would have considered her +saved and regaining her strength in the backward spring, the air of +which, growing warmer and warmer daily, entered by the open window. In +fact, she never fell back into the deep gravities of her dreams, except +when she was entirely alone and was not afraid of being seen. In the +night, voices still appeared to be near her: then it seemed as if the +earth were calling to her; and at last the truth was clearly revealed to +her, so that she fully understood that the miracle was being continued +only for the realisation of her dream. Was she not already dead, having +simply the appearance of living, thanks to the respite which had +been granted her from Divine Grace? This idea soothed her with deep +gentleness in her hours of solitude, and she did not feel a moment’s +regret at the thought of being called away from life in the midst of her +happiness, so certain was she of always realising to its fullest extent +her anticipated joy. The cheerfulness she had hitherto shown became +simply a little more serious; she abandoned herself to it quietly, +forgetting her physical weakness as she indulged in the pure delights +of fancy. It was only when she heard the Huberts open the door, or when +Felicien came to see her, that she was able to sit upright, to bring +her thoughts back to her surroundings, and to appear as if she were +regaining her health, laughing pleasantly while she talked of their +years of happy housekeeping far away, in the days to come. + +Towards the end of March Angelique grew very restless and much weaker. +Twice, when by herself, she had long fainting fits. One morning she +fell at the foot of her bed, just as Hubert was bringing her up a cup +of milk; by a great effort of will she conquered herself, and, that +she might deceive him, she remained on the floor and smiled, as +she pretended to be looking for a needle that had been dropped. The +following day she was gayer than usual, and proposed hastening the +marriage, suggesting that at all events it should not be put off any +later than the middle of April. All the others exclaimed at this idea, +asking if it would not be advisable to wait awhile, since she was still +so delicate. There was no need of being in such a hurry. She, however, +seemed feverishly nervous, and insisted that the ceremony should take +place immediately--yes, as soon as possible. Hubertine, surprised at +the request, having a suspicion as to the true motive of this eagerness, +looked at her earnestly for a moment, and turned very pale as she +realised how slight was the cold breath which still attached her +daughter to life. The dear invalid had already grown calm, in her tender +need of consoling others and keeping them under an illusion, although +she knew personally that her case was hopeless. Hubert and Felicien, +in continual adoration before their idol, had neither seen nor +felt anything unusual. Then Angelique, exerting herself almost +supernaturally, rose up, and was more charming than ever, as she slowly +moved back and forth with the light step of former days. She continued +to speak of her wish, saying if it were granted she would be so happy, +and that after the wedding she would certainly be cured. Moreover, the +question should be left to Monseigneur; he alone should decide it. That +same evening, when the Bishop was there, she explained her desire to +him, fixing her eyes on his, regarding him steadily and beseechingly, +and speaking in her sweet, earnest voice, under which there was hidden +an ardent supplication, unexpressed in words. Monseigneur realised it, +and understood the truth, and he appointed a day in the middle of April +for the ceremony. + +Then they lived in great commotion from the necessary bustle attendant +upon the preparations for the marriage. Notwithstanding his official +position as guardian, Hubert was obliged to ask permission, or rather +the consent of the Director of Public Assistance, who always represented +the family council, Angelique not yet being of age; and Monsieur +Grandsire, the Justice of the Peace, was charged with all legal details, +in order to avoid as much as possible the painful side of the position +to the young girl and to Felicien. But the dear child, realising that +something was being kept back, asked one day to have her little book +brought up to her, wishing to put it herself into the hands of her +betrothed. She was now, and would henceforth remain, in a state of such +sincere humility that she wished him to know thoroughly from what a +low position he had drawn her, to elevate her to the glory of his +well-honoured name and his great fortune. These were her parchments, +her titles to nobility; her position was explained by this official +document, this entry on the calendar where there was only a date +followed by a number. She turned over all the leaves once more, then +gave it to him without being confused, happy in thinking that in herself +she was nothing, but that she owed everything to him. So deeply touched +was he by this act, that he knelt down, kissed her hands while tears +came to his eyes, as if it were she who had made him the one gift, the +royal gift of her heart. + +For two weeks the preparations occupied all Beaumont, both the upper and +the lower town being in a state of great excitement therefrom. It was +said that twenty working-girls were engaged day and night upon the +trousseau. The wedding-dress alone required three persons to make it, +and there was to be a _corbeille_, or present from the bridegroom, to +the value of a million of francs: a fluttering of laces, of velvets, of +silks and satins, a flood of precious stones--diamonds worthy a Queen. +But that which excited the people more than all else was the great +amount given in charity, the bride having wished to distribute to +the poor as much as she had received herself. So another million was +showered down upon the country in a rain of gold. At length she was able +to gratify all her old longings of benevolence, all the prodigalities +of her most exaggerated dreams, as with open hands she let fall upon the +wretched and needy a stream of riches, an overflow of comforts. In her +little, white, bare chamber, confined to her old armchair, she laughed +with delight when the Abbé Cornille brought to her the list of the +distributions he had made. “Give more! Give more!” she cried, as it +seemed to her as if not enough were done. She would, in reality, have +liked to have seen the Père Mascart seated for ever at a table before +a princely banquet; the Chouteaux living in palatial luxury; the _mère_ +Gabet cured of her rheumatism, and by the aid of money to have renewed +her youth. As for the Lemballeuse, the mother and daughters, she +absolutely wished to load them with silk dresses and jewellery. The hail +of golden pieces redoubled over the town as in fairy-tales, far beyond +the daily necessities, as if merely for the beauty and joy of seeing the +triumphal golden glory, thrown from full hands, falling into the street +and glittering in the great sunlight of charity. + +At last, on the eve of the happy day, everything was in readiness. +Felicien had bought a large house on the Rue Magloire, at the back +of the Bishop’s palace, which had been fitted up and furnished most +luxuriously. There were great rooms hung with admirable tapestries, +filled with the most beautiful articles imaginable; a salon in old, rare +pieces of hand embroidery; a boudoir in blue, soft as the early morning +sky; and a sleeping-room, which was particularly attractive: a perfect +little corner of white silk and lace--nothing, in short, but white, +airy, and light--an exquisite shimmering of purity. But Angelique had +constantly refused to go to see all these wonderful things, although +a carriage was always ready to convey her there. She listened to the +recital of that which had been done with an enchanted smile, but she +gave no orders, and did not appear to wish to occupy herself with any of +the arrangements. “No, no,” she said, for all these things seemed so far +away in the unknown of that vast world of which she was as yet totally +ignorant. Since those who loved her had prepared for her so tenderly +this happiness, she desired to partake thereof, and to enter therein +like a princess coming from some chimerical country, who approaches +the real kingdom where she is to reign for ever. In the same way she +preferred to know nothing, except by hearsay, of the _corbeille_, which +also was waiting for her--a superb gift from her betrothed, the wedding +outfit of fine linen, embroidered with her cipher as marchioness, the +full-dress costumes tastefully trimmed, the old family jewels valuable +as the richest treasures of a cathedral, and the modern jewels in their +marvellous yet delicate mountings, precious stones of every kind, and +diamonds of the purest water. It was sufficient to her that her dream +had come to pass, and that this good future awaited her in her new home, +radiant in the reality of the new life that was opening before her. The +only thing she saw was her wedding-dress, which was brought to her on +the marriage morning. + +That day, when she awoke, Angelique, still alone, had in her great bed +a moment of intense exhaustion, and feared that she would not be able to +get up at all. She attempted to do so, but her knees bent under her; +and in contrast to the brave serenity she had shown for weeks past, a +fearful anguish, the last, perhaps, took utter possession of her. Then, +as in a few minutes Hubertine came into the room, looking unusually +happy, she was surprised to find that she could really walk, for she +certainly did not do so from her own strength, but aid came to her +from the Invisible, and friendly hands sustained and carried her. They +dressed her; she no longer seemed to weigh anything, but was so slight +and frail that her mother was astonished, and laughingly begged her not +to move any more if she did not wish to fly quite away. During all the +time of preparing her toilette, the little fresh house of the Huberts, +so close to the side of the Cathedral, trembled under the great +breath of the Giant, of that which already was humming therein, of the +preparations for the ceremony, the nervous activity of the clergy, and +especially the ringing of the bells, a continuous peal of joy, with +which the old stones were vibrating. + +In the upper town, for over an hour there had been a glorious chiming +of bells, as on the greatest holy days. The sun had risen in all its +beauty, and on this limpid April morning a flood of spring rays seemed +living with the sonorous peals which had called together all the +inhabitants of the place. The whole of Beaumont was in a state of +rejoicing on account of the marriage of this little embroiderer, to whom +their hearts were so deeply attached, and they were touched by the fact +of her royal good fortune. This bright sunlight, which penetrated all +the streets, was like the golden rain, the gifts of fairy-tales, rolling +out from her delicate hands. Under this joyful light, the multitude +crowded in masses towards the Cathedral, filling the side-aisles of the +church, and coming out on to the Place du Cloître. There the great front +of the building rose up, like a huge bouquet of stone, in full blossom, +of the most ornamental Gothic, above the severe Romanesque of the +foundation. In the tower the bells still rung, and the whole facade +seemed to be like a glorification of these nuptials, expressive of the +flight of this poor girl through all the wonders of the miracle, as +it darted up and flamed, with its open lace-work ornamentations, the +lily-like efflorescence of its little columns, its balustrades, and its +arches, the niches of saints surmounted with canopies, the gable ends +hollowed out in trefoil points, adorned with crossettes and flowers, +immense rose-windows opening out in the mystic radiation of their +mullions. + +At ten o’clock the organs pealed. Angelique and Felicien were +there, walking with slow steps towards the high altar, between the +closely-pressed ranks of the crowd. A breath of sincere, touching +admiration came from every side. He, deeply moved, passed along proud +and serious, with his blonde beauty of a young god appearing slighter +than ever from his closely-fitting black dress-coat. But she, above all, +struck the hearts of the spectators, so exquisite was she, so divinely +beautiful with a mystic, spiritual charm. Her dress was of white watered +silk, simply covered with rare old Mechlin lace, which was held by +pearls, a whole setting of them designing the ruches of the waist and +the ruffles of the skirt. A veil of old English point was fastened to +her head by a triple crown of pearls, and falling to her feet, quite +covered her. That was all--not a flower, not a jewel, nothing but this +slight vision, this delicate, trembling cloud, which seemed to have +placed her sweet little face between two white wings, like that of the +Virgin of the painted glass window, with her violet eyes and her golden +hair. + +Two armchairs, covered with crimson velvet, had been placed for Felicien +and Angelique before the altar; and directly behind them, while the +organs increased their phrases of welcome, Hubert and Hubertine knelt +on the low benches which were destined for the family. The day before an +intense joy had come to them, from the effects of which they had not yet +recovered, and they were incapable of expressing their deep, heartfelt +thanks for their own happiness, which was so closely connected with that +of their daughter. Hubertine, having gone once more to the cemetery, +saddened by the thought of their loneliness, and the little house, which +would seem so empty after the departure of the dearly-beloved child, had +prayed to her mother for a long time; when suddenly she felt within her +an inexplicable relief and gladness, which convinced her that at last +her petition had been granted. From the depths of the earth, after more +than twenty years, the obstinate mother had forgiven them, and sent them +the child of pardon so ardently desired and longed for. Was this the +recompense of their charity towards the poor forlorn little creature +whom they had found one snowy day at the Cathedral entrance, and who +to-day was to wed a prince with all the show and pomp of the greatest +ceremony? They remained on their knees, without praying in formulated +words, enraptured with gratitude, their whole souls overflowing with +an excess of infinite thanksgiving. And on the other side of the nave, +seated on his high, official throne, Monseigneur was also one of the +family group. He seemed filled with the majesty of the God whom he +represented; he was resplendent in the glory of his sacred vestments, +and the expression of his countenance was that of a proud serenity, as +if he were entirely freed from all worldly passions. Above his head, +on the panel of wonderful embroidery, were two angels supporting the +brilliant coat of arms of Hautecœur. + +Then the solemn service began. All the clergy connected with the +cathedral were present to do honour to their Bishop, and priests had +come from the different parishes to assist them. Among the crowd of +white surplices which seemed to overflow the grating, shone the golden +capes of the choristers, and the red robes of the singing-boys. The +almost eternal night of the side-aisles, crushed down by the weight of +the heavy Romanesque chapels, was this morning slightly brightened by +the limpid April sunlight, which struck the painted glass of the windows +so that they seemed to be a burning of gems, a sacred bursting into +blossom of luminous flowers. But the background of the nave particularly +blazed with a swarming of wax-tapers, tapers as innumerable as the stars +of evening in a summer sky. In the centre, the high altar seemed on fire +from them, a true “burning bush,” symbolic of the flame that consumes +souls; and there were also candles in large candelabra and in +chandeliers, while before the plighted couple, two enormous lustres with +round branches looked like two suns. About them was a garden of masses +of green plants and of living blossoms, where were in flower great tufts +of white azaleas, of white camellias, and of lilacs. Away to the back +of the apse sparkled bits of gold and silver, half-seen skirts of velvet +and of silk, a distant dazzling of the tabernacle among the sombre +surroundings of green verdure. Above all this burning the nave sprang +out, and the four enormous pillars of the transept mounted upward to +support the arched vaulting, in the trembling movement of these myriads +of little flames, which almost seemed to pale at times in the full +daylight which entered by the high Gothic windows. + +Angelique had wished to be married by the good Abbé Cornille, and when +she saw him come forward in his surplice, and with the white stole, +followed by two clerks, she smiled. This was at last the triumphant +realisation of her dream--she was wedding fortune, beauty, and power far +beyond her wildest hopes. The church itself was singing by the organs, +radiant with its wax-tapers, and alive with the crowd of believers and +priests, whom she knew to be around her on every side. Never had the old +building been more brilliant or filled with a more regal pomp, enlarged +as it were in its holy, sacred luxury, by an expansion of happiness. +Angelique smiled again in the full knowledge that death was at her +heart, celebrating its victory over her, in the midst of this +glorious joy. In entering the Cathedral she had glanced at the Chapel +d’Hautecœur, where slept Laurette and Balbine, the “Happy Dead,” who +passed away when very young, in the full happiness of their love. +At this last hour she was indeed perfect. Victorious over herself, +reclaimed, renewed, having no longer any feeling of passion or of pride +at her triumph, resigned at the knowledge that her life was fast leaving +her, in this beautiful Hosanna of her great friend, the blessed old +church. When she fell upon her knees, it was as a most humble, most +submissive servant, entirely free from the stain of original sin; and in +her renunciation she was thoroughly content. + +The Abbé Cornille, having mounted to the altar, had just come down +again. In a loud voice he made the exhortation; he cited as an example +the marriage which Jesus had contracted with the Church; he spoke of the +future, of days to come when they would live and govern themselves in +the true faith; of children whom they must bring up as Christians; and +then, once more, in face of this hope, Angelique again smiled sweetly, +while Felicien trembled at the idea of all this happiness, which he +believed to be assured. Then came the consecrated demands of the ritual, +the replies which united them together for their entire existence, the +decisive “Yes”--which she pronounced in a voice filled with emotion from +the depths of her heart, and which he said in a much louder tone, and +with a tender earnestness. The irrevocable step was taken, the clergyman +had placed their right hands together, one clasping the other, as he +repeated the prescribed formula: “I unite you in matrimony, in the name +of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Ghost.” But there were +still rings to be blessed, the symbols of inviolable fidelity, and of +the eternity of the union, which is lasting. In the silver basin, above +the rings of gold, the priest shook back and forth the asperges brush, +and making the sign of the Cross over each one, said, “Bless, O Lord, +this ring.” + +Then he presented them to the young couple, to testify to them that the +Church sanctified their union; that for the husband henceforth his heart +was sealed, and no other woman could ever enter therein; and the husband +was to place the ring upon his wife’s finger in order to show her, in +his turn, that henceforth he alone among all men existed for her. This +was the strict union, without end, the sign of her dependence upon him, +which would recall to her constantly the vows she had made; it was also +the promise of a long series of years, to be passed together, as if by +this little circle of gold they were attached to each other even to the +grave. + +And while the priest, after the final prayers, exhorted them once more, +Angelique wore always the sweet expression of renunciation; she, the +pure soul, who knew the truth. + +Then, as the Abbé Cornille withdrew, accompanied by his clerks, the +organs again burst forth with peals of joy. Monseigneur, motionless +until now, bent towards the young couple with an expression of great +mildness in his eagle-like eyes. Still on their knees, the Huberts +lifted their heads, blinded by their tears of joy. And the enormous +depths of the organs’ peals rolled and lost themselves by degrees in a +hail of little sharp notes, which were swept away under the high arches, +like the morning song of the lark. There was a long waving movement, +a half-hushed sound amongst the reverential crowd, who filled to +overflowing even the side-aisles and the nave. The church, decorated +with flowers, glittering with the taper lights, seemed beaming with joy +from the Sacrament. + +Then there were nearly two hours more of solemn pomp; the Mass being +sung and the incense being burnt. + +The officiating clergyman had appeared, dressed in his white chasuble, +accompanied by the director of the ceremonies, two censer-bearers +carrying the censer and the vase of incense, and two acolytes bearing +the great golden candlesticks, in which were lighted tapers. + +The presence of Monseigneur complicated the rites, the salutations, and +the kisses. Every moment there were bowings, or bendings of the knee, +which kept the wings of the surplices in constant motion. In the old +stalls, with their backs of carved wood, the whole chapter of canons +rose; and then again, at other times it was as if a breath from heaven +prostrated at once the clergy, by whom the whole apse was filled. The +officiating priest chanted at the altar. When he had finished, he went +to one side, and took his seat while the choir in its turn for a long +time continued the solemn phrases of the services in the fine, clear +notes of the young choristers, light and delicate as the flutes of +archangels. Among these voices was a very beautiful one, unusually pure +and crystalline, that of a young girl, and most delicious to hear. It +was said to be that of Mademoiselle Claire de Voincourt, who had wished +and obtained permission to sing at this marriage, which had been so +wonderfully secured by a miracle. The organ which accompanied her +appeared to sigh in a softened manner, with the peaceful calm of a soul +at ease and perfectly happy. + +There were occasionally short spells of silence. Then the music burst +out again with formidable rollings, while the master of the ceremonies +summoned the acolytes with their chandeliers, and conducted the +censer-bearers to the officiating clergyman, who blessed the incenses in +the vases. Now there was constantly heard the movements of the censer, +with the silvery sound of the little chains as they swung back and forth +in the clear light. There was in the air a bluish, sweet-scented cloud, +as they incensed the Bishop, the clergy, the altar, the Gospel, each +person and each thing in its turn, even the close crowd of people, +making the three movements, to the right, to the left, and in front, to +mark the Cross. + +In the meantime Angelique and Felicien, on their knees, listened +devoutly to the Mass, which is significant of the mysterious +consummation of the marriage of Jesus and the Church. There had been +given into the hands of each a lighted candle, symbol of the purity +preserved since their baptism. After the Lord’s Prayer they had remained +under the veil, which is a sign of submission, of bashfulness, and of +modesty; and during this time the priest, standing at the right-hand +side of the altar, read the prescribed prayers. They still held the +lighted tapers, which serve also as a sign of remembrance of death, even +in the joy of a happy marriage. And now it was finished, the offering +was made, the officiating clergyman went away, accompanied by the +director of the ceremonies, the incense-bearers, and the acolytes, after +having prayed God to bless the newly-wedded couple, in order that they +might live to see and multiply their children, even to the third and +fourth generation. + +At this moment the entire Cathedral seemed living and exulting with +joy. The March Triumphal was being played upon the organs with such +thunder-like peals that they made the old edifice fairly tremble. The +entire crowd of people now rose, quite excited, and straining themselves +to see everything; women even mounted on the chairs, and there were +closely-pressed rows of heads as far back as the dark chapels of the +outer side-aisles. In this vast multitude every face was smiling, every +heart beat with sympathetic joy. In this final adieu the thousands of +tapers appeared to burn still higher, stretching out their flames like +tongues of fire, vacillating under the vaulted arches. A last Hosanna +from the clergy rose up through the flowers and the verdure in the midst +of the luxury of the ornaments and the sacred vessels. But suddenly the +great portal under the organs was opened wide, and the sombre walls of +the church were marked as if by great sheets of daylight. It was the +clear April morning, the living sun of the spring-tide, the Place du +Cloître, which was now seen with its tidy-looking, white houses; and +there another crowd, still more numerous, awaited the coming of the +bride and bridegroom, with a more impatient eagerness, which already +showed itself by gestures and acclamations. The candles had grown paler, +and the noises of the street were drowned in the music of the organs. + +With a slow step, between the double hedge of the worshippers, Angelique +and Felicien turned towards the entrance-door. After the triumphant +carrying out of her dream, she was now about to enter into the reality +of life. This porch of broad sunlight opened into the world of which +as yet she was entirely ignorant. She retarded her steps as she looked +earnestly at the rows of houses, at the tumultuous crowd, at all which +greeted and acclaimed her. Her weakness was so intense that her husband +was obliged to almost carry her. However, she was still able to look +pleased, as she thought of the princely house, filled with jewels and +with queenly toilettes, where the nuptial chamber awaited her, all +decorated with white silk and lace. Almost suffocated, she was obliged +to stop when halfway down the aisle; then she had sufficient strength +to take a few steps more. She glanced at her wedding ring, so recently +placed upon her finger, and smiled at this sign of eternal union. Then, +on the threshold of the great door, at the top of the steps which went +down into the Place du Cloître, she tottered. Had she not really arrived +at the summit of her happiness? Was not it there that the joy of her +life, being perfected, was to end? With a last effort she raised herself +as much as possible, that she might put her lips upon the lips of +Felicien. And in that kiss of love she passed away for ever. + +But her death was without sadness. Monseigneur, with his habitual +movement of pastoral benediction, aided this pure soul to free itself +from the frail body. He had regained his calmness, and had once more +found in the fulfillment of his sacred calling the desired-for peace. + +The Huberts, unconscious of what had taken place, were still kneeling, +grateful for the pardon at last granted them, and feeling as if +re-entering into existence. For them, as well as for their beloved +daughter, the dream was accomplished. All the Cathedral and the whole +town were _en fête_. The organs sounded louder than ever; the bells +pealed joyously; the multitude waited to greet the loving couple on the +threshold of the mystic church under the glorious spring sunlight. + +It was indeed a beautiful death. Angelique, happy and pure, carried away +suddenly at the moment of the realisation of her fondest dream, taken +into the heavenly life from the dark Romanesque chapels with the +flamboyant, Gothic-vaulted ceiling, from among the gilded decorations +and paintings of ancient times, in the full Paradise of Golden Legends. +What more could she have asked for? + +Felicien held in his arms simply a soft and tender form, from which life +had departed; this bridal robe of lace and pearls seemed like the light +wings of a bird, still warm to the touch. For a long time he had well +known that he could claim but a shadow. The exquisite vision that came +from the Invisible had returned to the Invisible. + +It was merely a semblance, which effaced itself; the vanishing of an +illusion. + +Everything is only a dream. + +And so, at the moment of supreme earthly happiness, Angelique had +disappeared in the slight breath of a loving kiss. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Dream</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Eliza E. Chase</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 6, 2003 [eBook #9499]<br /> +[Most recently updated: November 3, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Dagny, John Bickers, Roger Proctor and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM ***</div> + +<h1>THE DREAM</h1> + +<h3>(LE RÊVE)</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Émile Zola</h2> + +<h3>Translated by Eliza E. Chase</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER XV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER XVI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER XVII</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +During the severe winter of 1860 the river Oise was frozen over and the plains +of Lower Picardy were covered with deep snow. On Christmas Day, especially, a +heavy squall from the north-east had almost buried the little city of Beaumont. +The snow, which began to fall early in the morning, increased towards evening +and accumulated during the night; in the upper town, in the Rue des Orfèvres, +at the end of which, as if enclosed therein, is the northern front of the +cathedral transept, this was blown with great force by the wind against the +portal of Saint Agnes, the old Romanesque portal, where traces of Early Gothic +could be seen, contrasting its florid ornamentation with the bare simplicity of +the transept gable. +</p> + +<p> +The inhabitants still slept, wearied by the festive rejoicings of the previous +day. The town-clock struck six. In the darkness, which was slightly lightened +by the slow, persistent fall of flakes, a vague living form alone was visible: +that of a little girl, nine years of age, who, having taken refuge under the +archway of the portal, had passed the night there, shivering, and sheltering +herself as well as possible. She wore a thin woollen dress, ragged from long +use, her head was covered with a torn silk handkerchief, and on her bare feet +were heavy shoes much too large for her. Without doubt she had only gone there +after having well wandered through the town, for she had fallen down from sheer +exhaustion. For her it was the end of the world; there was no longer anything +to interest her. It was the last surrender; the hunger that gnaws, the cold +which kills; and in her weakness, stifled by the heavy weight at her heart, she +ceased to struggle, and nothing was left to her but the instinctive movement of +preservation, the desire of changing place, of sinking still deeper into these +old stones, whenever a sudden gust made the snow whirl about her. +</p> + +<p> +Hour after hour passed. For a long time, between the divisions of this double +door, she leaned her back against the abutting pier, on whose column was a +statue of Saint Agnes, the martyr of but thirteen years of age, a little girl +like herself, who carried a branch of palm, and at whose feet was a lamb. And +in the tympanum, above the lintel, the whole legend of the Virgin Child +betrothed to Jesus could be seen in high relief, set forth with a charming +simplicity of faith. Her hair, which grew long and covered her like a garment +when the Governor, whose son she had refused to marry, gave her up to the +soldiers; the flames of the funeral pile, destined to destroy her, turning +aside and burning her executioners as soon as they lighted the wood; the +miracles performed by her relics; Constance, daughter of the Emperor, cured of +leprosy; and the quaint story of one of her painted images, which, when the +priest Paulinus offered it a very valuable emerald ring, held out its finger, +then withdrew it, keeping the ring, which can be seen at this present day. At +the top of the tympanum, in a halo of glory, Agnes is at last received into +heaven, where her betrothed, Jesus, marries her, so young and so little, giving +her the kiss of eternal happiness. +</p> + +<p> +But when the wind rushed through the street, the snow was blown in the +child’s face, and the threshold was almost barred by the white masses; +then she moved away to the side, against the virgins placed above the base of +the arch. These are the companions of Agnes, the saints who served as her +escort: three at her right—Dorothea, who was fed in prison by miraculous +bread; Barbe, who lived in a tower; and Genevieve, whose heroism saved Paris: +and three at her left—Agatha, whose breast was torn; Christina, who was +put to torture by her father; and Cecilia, beloved by the angels. Above these +were statues and statues; three close ranks mounting with the curves of the +arches, decorating them with chaste triumphant figures, who, after the +suffering and martyrdom of their earthly life, were welcomed by a host of +winged cherubim, transported with ecstasy into the Celestial Kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +There had been no shelter for the little waif for a long time, when at last the +clock struck eight and daylight came. The snow, had she not trampled it down, +would have come up to her shoulders. The old door behind her was covered with +it, as if hung with ermine, and it looked as white as an altar, beneath the +grey front of the church, so bare and smooth that not even a single flake had +clung to it. The great saints, those of the sloping surface especially, were +clothed in it, and were glistening in purity from their feet to their white +beards. Still higher, in the scenes of the tympanum, the outlines of the little +saints of the arches were designed most clearly on a dark background, and this +magic sect continued until the final rapture at the marriage of Agnes, which +the archangels appeared to be celebrating under a shower of white roses. +Standing upon her pillar, with her white branch of palm and her white lamp, the +Virgin Child had such purity in the lines of her body of immaculate snow, that +the motionless stiffness of cold seemed to congeal around her the mystic +transports of victorious youth. And at her feet the other child, so miserable, +white with snow—she also grew so stiff and pale that it seemed as if she +were turning to stone, and could scarcely be distinguished from the great +images above her. +</p> + +<p> +At last, in one of the long line of houses in which all seemed to be sleeping, +the noise from the drawing up of a blind made her raise her eyes. It was at her +right hand, in the second story of a house at the side of the Cathedral. A very +handsome woman, a brunette about forty years of age, with a placid expression +of serenity, was just looking out from there, and in spite of the terrible +frost she kept her uncovered arm in the air for a moment, having seen the child +move. Her calm face grew sad with pity and astonishment. Then, shivering, she +hastily closed the window. She carried with her the rapid vision of a fair +little creature with violet-coloured eyes under a head-covering of an old silk +handkerchief. The face was oval, the neck long and slender as a lily, and the +shoulders drooping; but she was blue from cold, her little hands and feet were +half dead, and the only thing about her that still showed life was the slight +vapour of her breath. +</p> + +<p> +The child remained with her eyes upturned, looking at the house mechanically. +It was a narrow one, two stories in height, very old, and evidently built +towards the end of the fifteenth century. It was almost sealed to the side of +the Cathedral, between two buttresses, like a wart which had pushed itself +between the two toes of a Colossus. And thus supported on each side, it was +admirably preserved, with its stone basement, its second story in wooden +panels, ornamented with bricks, its roof, of which the framework advanced at +least three feet beyond the gable, its turret for the projecting stairway at +the left corner, where could still be seen in the little window the leaden +setting of long ago. At times repairs had been made on account of its age. The +tile-roofing dated from the reign of Louis XIV., for one easily recognised the +work of that epoch; a dormer window pierced in the side of the turret, little +wooden frames replacing everywhere those of the primitive panes; the three +united openings of the second story had been reduced to two, that of the middle +being closed up with bricks, thus giving to the front the symmetry of the other +buildings on the street of a more recent date. +</p> + +<p> +In the basement the changes were equally visible, an oaken door with mouldings +having taken the place of the old one with iron trimmings that was under the +stairway; and the great central arcade, of which the lower part, the sides, and +the point had been plastered over, so as to leave only one rectangular opening, +was now a species of large window, instead of the triple-pointed one which +formerly came out on to the street. +</p> + +<p> +Without thinking, the child still looked at this venerable dwelling of a +master-builder, so well preserved, and as she read upon a little yellow plate +nailed at the left of the door these words, “Hubert, chasuble +maker,” printed in black letters, she was again attracted by the sound of +the opening of a shutter. This time it was the blind of the square window of +the ground floor. A man in his turn looked out; his face was full, his nose +aquiline, his forehead projecting, and his thick short hair already white, +although he was scarcely yet five-and-forty. He, too, forgot the air for a +moment as he examined her with a sad wrinkle on his great tender mouth. Then +she saw him, as he remained standing behind the little greenish-looking panes. +He turned, beckoned to someone, and his wife reappeared. How handsome she was! +They both stood side by side, looking at her earnestly and sadly. +</p> + +<p> +For four hundred years, the line of Huberts, embroiderers from father to son, +had lived in this house. A noted maker of chasubles had built it under Louis +XI., another had repaired it under Louis XIV., and the Hubert who now occupied it +still embroidered church vestments, as his ancestors had always done. At twenty +years of age he had fallen in love with a young girl of sixteen, Hubertine, and +so deep was their affection for each other, that when her mother, widow of a +magistrate, refused to give her consent to their union, they ran away together +and were married. She was remarkably beautiful, and that was their whole +romance, their joy, and their misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +When, a year later, she went to the deathbed of her mother, the latter +disinherited her and gave her her curse. So affected was she by the terrible +scene, that her infant, born soon after, died, and since then it seemed as if, +even in her coffin in the cemetery, the willful woman had never pardoned her +daughter, for it was, alas! a childless household. After twenty-four years they +still mourned the little one they had lost. +</p> + +<p> +Disturbed by their looks, the stranger tried to hide herself behind the pillar +of Saint Agnes. She was also annoyed by the movement which now commenced in the +street, as the shops were being opened and people began to go out. The Rue des +Orfèvres, which terminates at the side front of the church, would be almost +impassable, blocked in as it is on one side by the house of the Huberts, if the +Rue du Soleil, a narrow lane, did not relieve it on the other side by running +the whole length of the Cathedral to the great front on the Place du Cloître. +At this hour there were few passers, excepting one or two persons who were on +their way to early service, and they looked with surprise at the poor little +girl, whom they did not recognise as ever having seen at Beaumont. The slow, +persistent fall of snow continued. The cold seemed to increase with the wan +daylight, and in the dull thickness of the great white shroud which covered the +town one heard, as if from a distance, the sound of voices. But timid, ashamed +of her abandonment, as if it were a fault, the child drew still farther back, +when suddenly she recognised before her Hubertine, who, having no servant, had +gone out to buy bread. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing there, little one? Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer, but hid her face. Then she was no longer conscious of +suffering; her whole being seemed to have faded away, as if her heart, turned +to ice, had stopped beating. When the good lady turned away with a pitying +look, she sank down upon her knees completely exhausted, and slipped listlessly +into the snow, whose flakes quickly covered her. +</p> + +<p> +And the woman, as she returned with her fresh rolls, seeing that she had +fallen, again approached her. +</p> + +<p> +“Look up, my child! You cannot remain here on this doorstep.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Hubert, who had also come out, and was standing near the threshold, took +the bread from his wife, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Take her up and bring her into the house.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine did not reply, but, stooping, lifted her in her strong arms. And the +child shrank back no longer, but was carried as if inanimate; her teeth closely +set, her eyes shut, chilled through and through, and with the lightness of a +little bird that had just fallen from its nest. +</p> + +<p> +They went in. Hubert shut the door, while Hubertine, bearing her burden, passed +through the front room, which served as a parlour, and where some embroidered +bands were spread out for show before the great square window. Then she went +into the kitchen, the old servants’ hall, preserved almost intact, with +its heavy beams, its flagstone floor mended in a dozen places, and its great +fireplace with its stone mantelpiece. On shelves were the utensils, the pots, +kettles, and saucepans, that dated back one or two centuries; and the dishes +were of old stone, or earthenware, and of pewter. But on the middle of the +hearth was a modern cooking-stove, a large cast-iron one, whose copper +trimmings were wondrously bright. It was red from heat, and the water was +bubbling away in its boiler. A large porringer, filled with coffee-and-milk, +was on one corner of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how much more comfortable it is here than outside,” said +Hubert, as he put the bread down on a heavy table of the style of Louis XIII., +which was in the centre of the room. “Now, seat this poor little creature +near the stove that she may be thawed out!” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine had already placed the child close to the fire, and they both looked +at her as she slowly regained consciousness. As the snow that covered her +clothes melted it fell in heavy drops. Through the holes of her great shoes +they could see her little bruised feet, whilst the thin woollen dress designed +the rigidity of her limbs and her poor body, worn by misery and pain. She had a +long attack of nervous trembling, and then opened her frightened eyes with the +start of an animal which suddenly awakes from sleep to find itself caught in a +snare. Her face seemed to sink away under the silken rag which was tied under +her chin. Her right arm appeared to be helpless, for she pressed it so closely +to her breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be alarmed, for we will not hurt you. Where did you come from? +Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +But the more she was spoken to the more frightened she became, turning her head +as if someone were behind her who would beat her. She examined the kitchen +furtively, the flaggings, the beams, and the shining utensils; then her glance +passed through the irregular windows which were left in the ancient opening, +and she saw the garden clear to the trees by the Bishop’s house, whose +white shadows towered above the wall at the end, while at the left, as if +astonished at finding itself there, stretched along the whole length of the +alley the Cathedral, with its Romanesque windows in the chapels of its apses. +And again, from the heat of the stove which began to penetrate her, she had a +long attack of shivering, after which she turned her eyes to the floor and +remained quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you belong to Beaumont? Who is your father?” +</p> + +<p> +She was so entirely silent that Hubert thought her throat must be too dry to +allow her to speak. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of questioning her he said: “We would do much better to give her +a cup of coffee as hot as she can drink it.” +</p> + +<p> +That was so reasonable that Hubertine immediately handed her the cup she +herself held. Whilst she cut two large slices of bread and buttered them, the +child, still mistrustful, continued to shrink back; but her hunger was too +great, and soon she ate and drank ravenously. That there need not be a +restraint upon her, the husband and wife were silent, and were touched to tears +on seeing her little hand tremble to such a degree that at times it was +difficult for her to reach her mouth. She made use only of her left hand, for +her right arm seemed to be fastened to her chest. When she had finished, she +almost broke the cup, which she caught again by an awkward movement of her +elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you hurt your arm badly?” Hubertine asked. “Do not be +afraid, my dear, but show it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +But as she was about to touch it the child rose up hastily, trying to prevent +her, and as in the struggle she moved her arm, a little pasteboard-covered +book, which she had hidden under her dress, slipped through a large tear in her +waist. She tried to take it, and when she saw her unknown hosts open and begin +to read it, she clenched her fist in anger. +</p> + +<p> +It was an official certificate, given by the Administration des Enfants +Assistes in the Department of the Seine. On the first page, under a medallion +containing a likeness of Saint Vincent de Paul, were the printed prescribed +forms. For the family name, a simple black line filled the allotted space. Then +for the Christian names were those of Angelique Marie; for the dates, born +January 22, 1851, admitted the 23rd of the same month under the registered +number of 1,634. So there was neither father nor mother; there were no papers; +not even a statement of where she was born; nothing but this little book of +official coldness, with its cover of pale red pasteboard. No relative in the +world! and even her abandonment numbered and classed! +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! then she is a foundling!” exclaimed Hubertine. +</p> + +<p> +In a paroxysm of rage the child replied: “I am much better than all the +others—yes—yes! I am better, better, better. I have never taken +anything that did not belong to me, and yet they stole all I had. Give me back, +now, that which you also have stolen from me!” +</p> + +<p> +Such powerless passion, such pride to be above the others in goodness, so shook +the body of the little girl, that the Huberts were startled. They no longer +recognised the blonde creature, with violet eyes and graceful figure. Now her +eyes were black, her face dark, and her neck seemed swollen by a rush of blood +to it. Since she had become warm, she raised her head and hissed like a serpent +that had been picked up on the snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you then really so naughty?” asked Hubert gently. “If we +wish to know all about you, it is because we wish to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +And looking over the shoulders of his wife he read as the latter turned the +leaves of the little book. On the second page was the name of the nurse. +“The child, Angelique Marie, had been given, on January 25, 1851, to the +nurse, Françoise, sister of Mr. Hamelin, a farmer by profession, living in the +parish of Soulanges, an arrondissement of Nevers. The aforesaid nurse had +received on her departure the pay for the first month of her care, in addition +to her clothing.” Then there was a certificate of her baptism, signed by +the chaplain of the Asylum for Abandoned Children; also that of the physician +on the arrival and on the departure of the infant. The monthly accounts, paid +in quarterly installments, filled farther on the columns of four pages, and +each time there was the illegible signature of the receiver or collector. +</p> + +<p> +“What! Nevers!” asked Hubertine. “You were brought up near +Nevers?” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, red with anger that she could not prevent them from reading, had +fallen into a sullen silence. But at last she opened her mouth to speak of her +nurse. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you may be sure that Maman Nini would have beaten you. She always +took my part against others, she did, although sometimes she struck me herself. +Ah! it is true I was not so unhappy over there, with the cattle and all!” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice choked her and she continued, in broken, incoherent sentences, to +speak of the meadow where she drove the great red cow, of the broad road where +she played, of the cakes they cooked, and of a pet house-dog that had once +bitten her. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert interrupted her as he read aloud: “In case of illness, or of bad +treatment, the superintendent is authorised to change the nurses of the +children.” Below it was written that the child Angelique Marie had been +given on June 20 to the care of Theresa, wife of Louis Franchomme, both of them +makers of artificial flowers in Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I understand,” said Hubertine. “You were ill, and so +they took you back to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +But no, that was not the case, and the Huberts did not know the whole history +until they had drawn it, little by little from Angelique. Louis Franchomme, who +was a cousin of Maman Nini, went to pass a month in his native village when +recovering from a fever. It was then that his wife, Theresa, became very fond +of the child, and obtained permission to take her to Paris, where she could be +taught the trade of making flowers. Three months later her husband died, and +she herself, being delicate in health, was obliged to leave the city and to go +to her brother’s, the tanner Rabier, who was settled at Beaumont. She, +alas! died in the early days of December, and confided to her sister-in-law the +little girl, who since that time had been injured, beaten, and, in short, +suffered martyrdom. +</p> + +<p> +“The Rabiers?” said Hubert. “The Rabiers? Yes, yes! They are +tanners on the banks of the Ligneul, in the lower town. The husband is lame, +and the wife is a noted scold.” +</p> + +<p> +“They treated me as if I came from the gutter,” continued +Angelique, revolted and enraged in her mortified pride. “They said the +river was the best place for me. After she had beaten me nearly to death, the +woman would put something on the floor for me to eat, as if I were a cat, and +many a time I went to bed suffering from hunger. Oh! I could have killed +myself, at last!” She made a gesture of furious despair. +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday, Christmas morning, they had been drinking, and, to amuse +themselves, they threatened to put out my eyes. Then, after a while, they began +to fight with each other, and dealt such heavy blows that I thought they were +dead, as they both fell on the floor of their room. For a long time I had +determined to run away. But I was anxious to have my book. Maman Nini had often +said, in showing it to me: ‘Look, this is all that you own, and if you do +not keep this you will not even have a name.’ And I know that since the +death of Maman Theresa they had hid it in one of the bureau drawers. So +stepping over them as quietly as possible, while they were lying on the floor, +I got the book, hid it under my dress-waist, pressing it against me with my +arm. It seemed so large that I fancied everyone must see it, and that it would +be taken from me. Oh! I ran, and ran, and ran, and when night came it was so +dark! Oh! how cold I was under the poor shelter of that great door! Oh dear! I +was so cold, it seemed as if I were dead. But never mind now, for I did not +once let go of my book, and here it is.” And with a sudden movement, as +the Huberts closed it to give it back to her, she snatched it from them. Then, +sitting down, she put her head on the table, sobbing deeply as she laid her +cheek on the light red cover. Her pride seemed conquered by an intense +humility. Her whole being appeared to be softened by the sight of these few +leaves with their rumpled corners—her solitary possession, her one +treasure, and the only tie which connected her with the life of this world. She +could not relieve her heart of her great despair; her tears flowed continually, +and under this complete surrender of herself she regained her delicate looks +and became again a pretty child. Her slightly oval face was pure in its +outlines, her violet eyes were made a little paler from emotion, and the curve +of her neck and shoulders made her resemble a little virgin on a church window. +At length she seized the hand of Hubertine, pressed it to her lips most +caressingly, and kissed it passionately. +</p> + +<p> +The Huberts were deeply touched, and could scarcely speak. They stammered: +“Dear, dear child!” +</p> + +<p> +She was not, then, in reality bad! Perhaps with affectionate care she could be +corrected of this violence of temper which had so alarmed them. +</p> + +<p> +In a tone of entreaty the poor child exclaimed: “Do not send me back to +those dreadful people! Oh, do not send me back again!” +</p> + +<p> +The husband and wife looked at each other for a few moments. In fact, since the +autumn they had planned taking as an apprentice some young girl who would live +with them, and thus bring a little brightness into their house, which seemed so +dull without children. And their decision was soon made. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like it, my dear?” Hubert asked. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine replied quietly, in her calm voice: “I would indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately they occupied themselves with the necessary formalities. The +husband went to the Justice of Peace of the northern district of Beaumont, who +was cousin to his wife, the only relative with whom she had kept up an +acquaintance, and told him all the facts of the case. He took charge of it, +wrote to the Hospice of Abandoned Children—where, thanks to the +registered number, Angelique was easily recognised—and obtained +permission for her to remain as apprentice with the Huberts, who were well +known for their honourable position. +</p> + +<p> +The Sub-Inspector of the Hospice, on coming to verify the little book, signed +the new contract as witness for Hubert, by which the latter promised to treat +the child kindly, to keep her tidy, to send her to school and to church, and to +give her a good bed to herself. On the other side, the Administration agreed to +pay him all indemnities, and to give the child certain stipulated articles of +clothing, as was their custom. +</p> + +<p> +In ten days all was arranged. Angelique slept upstairs in a room under the +roof, by the side of the garret, and the windows of which overlooked the +garden. She had already taken her first lessons in embroidery. The first Sunday +morning after she was in her new home, before going to mass, Hubertine opened +before her the old chest in the working-room, where she kept the fine gold +thread. She held up the little book, then, placing it in that back part of one +of the drawers, said: “Look! I have put it here. I will not hide it, but +leave it where you can take it if you ever wish to do so. It is best that you +should see it, and remember where it is.” +</p> + +<p> +On entering the church that day, Angelique found herself again under the +doorway of Saint Agnes. During the week there had been a partial thaw, then the +cold weather had returned to so intense a degree that the snow which had half +melted on the statues had congealed itself in large bunches or in icicles. Now, +the figures seemed dressed in transparent robes of ice, with lace trimmings +like spun glass. Dorothea was holding a torch, the liquid droppings of which +fell upon her hands. Cecilia wore a silver crown, in which glistened the most +brilliant of pearls. Agatha’s nude chest was protected by a crystal +armour. And the scenes in the tympanum, the little virgins in the arches, +looked as if they had been there for centuries, behind the glass and jewels of +the shrine of a saint. Agnes herself let trail behind her her court mantle, +threaded with light and embroidered with stars. Her lamb had a fleece of +diamonds, and her palm-branch had become the colour of heaven. The whole door +was resplendent in the purity of intense cold. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique recollected the night she had passed there under the protection of +these saints. She raised her head and smiled upon them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +Beaumont is composed of two villages, completely separated and quite distinct +one from the other—Beaumont-l’Église, on the hill with its old +Cathedral of the twelfth century, its Bishop’s Palace which dates only +from the seventeenth century, its inhabitants, scarcely one thousand in number, +who are crowded together in an almost stifling way in its narrow streets; and +Beaumont-la-Ville, at the foot of the hill, on the banks of the Ligneul, an +ancient suburb, which the success of its manufactories of lace and fine cambric +has enriched and enlarged to such an extent that it has a population of nearly +ten thousand persons, several public squares, and an elegant sub-prefecture +built in the modern style. These two divisions, the northern district and the +southern district, have thus no longer anything in common except in an +administrative way. Although scarcely thirty leagues from Paris, where one can +go by rail in two hours, Beaumont-l’Église seems to be still immured in +its old ramparts, of which, however, only three gates remain. A stationary, +peculiar class of people lead there a life similar to that which their +ancestors had led from father to son during the past five hundred years. +</p> + +<p> +The Cathedral explains everything, has given birth to and preserved everything. +It is the mother, the queen, as it rises in all its majesty in the centre of, +and above, the little collection of low houses, which, like shivering birds, +are sheltered under her wings of stone. One lives there simply for it, and only +by it. There is no movement of business activity, and the little tradesmen only +sell the necessities of life, such as are absolutely required to feed, to +clothe, and to maintain the church and its clergy; and if occasionally one +meets some private individuals, they are merely the last representatives of a +scattered crowd of worshippers. The church dominates all; each street is one of +its veins; the town has no other breath than its own. On that account, this +spirit of another age, this religious torpor from the past, makes the +cloistered city which surrounds it redolent with a savoury perfume of peace and +of faith. +</p> + +<p> +And in all this mystic place, the house of the Huberts, where Angelique was to +live in the future, was the one nearest to the Cathedral, and which clung to it +as if in reality it were a part thereof. The permission to build there, between +two of the great buttresses, must have been given by some vicar long ago, who +was desirous of attaching to himself the ancestors of this line of +embroiderers, as master chasuble-makers and furnishers for the Cathedral +clergy. On the southern side, the narrow garden was barred by the colossal +building; first, the circumference of the side chapels, whose windows +overlooked the flower-beds, and then the slender, long nave, that the flying +buttresses supported, and afterwards the high roof covered with the sheet lead. +</p> + +<p> +The sun never penetrated to the lower part of this garden, where ivy and box +alone grew luxuriantly; yet the eternal shadow there was very soft and pleasant +as it fell from the gigantic brow of the apse—a religious shadow, +sepulchral and pure, which had a good odour about it. In the greenish +half-light of its calm freshness, the two towers let fall only the sound of +their chimes. But the entire house kept the quivering therefrom, sealed as it +was to these old stones, melted into them and supported by them. It trembled at +the least of the ceremonies; at the High Mass, the rumbling of the organ, the +voices of the choristers, even the oppressed sighs of the worshippers, murmured +through each one of its rooms, lulled it as if with a holy breath from the +Invisible, and at times through the half-cool walls seemed to come the vapours +from the burning incense. +</p> + +<p> +For five years Angelique lived and grew there, as if in a cloister, far away +from the world. She only went out to attend the seven-o’clock Mass on +Sunday mornings, as Hubertine had obtained permission for her to study at home, +fearing that, if sent to school, she might not always have the best of +associates. This old dwelling, so shut in, with its garden of a dead quiet, was +her world. She occupied as her chamber a little whitewashed room under the +roof; she went down in the morning to her breakfast in the kitchen, she went up +again to the working-room in the second story to her embroidery. And these +places, with the turning stone stairway of the turret, were the only corners in +which she passed her time; for she never went into the Huberts’ +apartments, and only crossed the parlour on the first floor, and they were the +two rooms which had been rejuvenated and modernised. In the parlour, the beams +were plastered over, and the ceiling had been decorated with a palm-leaf +cornice, accompanied by a rose centre; the wall-paper dated from the First +Empire, as well as the white marble chimney-piece and the mahogany furniture, +which consisted of a sofa and four armchairs covered with Utrecht velvet, a +centre table, and a cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +On the rare occasions when she went there, to add to the articles exposed for +sale some new bands of embroidery, if she cast her eyes without, she saw +through the window the same unchanging vista, the narrow street ending at the +portal of Saint Agnes; a parishioner pushing open the little lower door, which +shut itself without any noise, and the shops of the plate-worker and +wax-candle-maker opposite, which appeared to be always empty, but where was a +display of holy sacramental vessels, and long lines of great church tapers. And +the cloistral calm of all Beaumont-l’Église—of the Rue Magloire, +back of the Bishop’s Palace, of the Grande Rue, where the Rue de Orfèvres +began, and of the Place du Cloître, where rose up the two towers, was felt in +the drowsy air, and seemed to fall gently with the pale daylight on the +deserted pavement. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine had taken upon herself the charge of the education of Angelique. +Moreover, she was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and maintained that a woman +knew enough if she could read well, write correctly, and had studied thoroughly +the first four rules of arithmetic. But even for this limited instruction she +had constantly to contend with an unwillingness on the part of her pupil, who, +instead of giving her attention to her books, preferred looking out of the +windows, although the recreation was very limited, as she could see nothing but +the garden from them. In reality, Angelique cared only for reading; +notwithstanding in her dictations, chosen from some classic writer, she never +succeeded in spelling a page correctly, yet her handwriting was exceedingly +pretty, graceful, and bold, one of those irregular styles which were quite the +fashion long ago. As for other studies, of geography and history and cyphering, +she was almost completely ignorant of them. What good would knowledge ever do +her? It was really useless, she thought. Later on, when it was time for her to +be Confirmed, she learned her Catechism word for word, and with so fervent an +ardour that she astonished everyone by the exactitude of her memory. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding their gentleness, during the first year the Huberts were often +discouraged. Angelique, who promised to be skilful in embroidering, +disconcerted them by sudden changes to inexplicable idleness after days of +praiseworthy application. She was capricious, seemed to lose her strength, +became greedy, would steal sugar to eat when alone, and her cheeks were flushed +and her eyes looked wearied under their reddened lids. If reproved, she would +reply with a flood of injurious words. Some days, when they wished to try to +subdue her, her foolish pride at being interfered with would throw her into +such serious attacks that she would strike her feet and her hands together, and +seemed ready to tear her clothing, or to bite anyone who approached her. At +such moments they drew away from her, for she was like a little monster ruled +by the evil sprit within her. +</p> + +<p> +Who could she be? Where did she come from? Almost always these abandoned +children are the offspring of vice. Twice they had resolved to give her up and +send her back to the Asylum, so discouraged were they and so deeply did they +regret having taken her. But each time these frightful scenes, which almost +made the house tremble, ended in the same deluge of tears, and the same excited +expressions and acts of penitence, when the child would throw herself on the +floor, begging them so earnestly to punish her that they were obliged to +forgive her. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, Hubertine gained great authority over her. She was peculiarly +adapted for such a task, with her kind heart, her gentle firmness, her +common-sense and her uniform temper. She taught her the duty of obedience and +the sin of pride and of passion. To obey was to live. We must obey God, our +parents, and our superiors. There was a whole hierarchy of respect, outside of +which existence was unrestrained and disorderly. So, after each fit of passion, +that she might learn humility, some menial labour was imposed upon her as a +penance, such as washing the cooking-utensils, or wiping up the kitchen floor; +and, until it was finished, she would remain stooping over her work, enraged at +first, but conquered at last. +</p> + +<p> +With the little girl excess seemed to be a marked characteristic in everything, +even in her caresses. Many times Hubertine had seen her kissing her hands with +vehemence. She would often be in a fever of ecstasy before the little pictures +of saints and of the Child Jesus, which she had collected; and one evening she +was found in a half-fainting state, with her head upon the table, and her lips +pressed to those of the images. When Hubertine confiscated them there was a +terrible scene of tears and cries, as if she herself were being tortured. After +that she was held very strictly, was made to obey, and her freaks were at once +checked by keeping her busy at her work; as soon as her cheeks grew very red, +her eyes dark, and she had nervous tremblings, everything was immediately made +quiet about her. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, Hubertine had found an unexpected aid in the book given by the +Society for the Protection of Abandoned Children. Every three months, when the +collector signed it, Angelique was very low-spirited for the rest of the day. +If by chance she saw it when she went to the drawer for a ball of gold thread, +her heart seemed pierced with agony. And one day, when in a fit of +uncontrollable fury, which nothing had been able to conquer, she turned over +the contents of the drawer, she suddenly appeared as if thunderstruck before +the red-covered book. Her sobs stifled her. She threw herself at the feet of +the Huberts in great humility, stammering that they had made a mistake in +giving her shelter, and that she was not worthy of all their kindness. From +that time her anger was frequently restrained by the sight or the mention of +the book. +</p> + +<p> +In this way Angelique lived until she was twelve years of age and ready to be +Confirmed. The calm life of the household, the little old-fashioned building +sleeping under the shadow of the Cathedral, perfumed with incense, and +penetrated with religious music, favoured the slow amelioration of this +untutored nature, this wild flower, taken from no one knew where, and +transplanted in the mystic soil of the narrow garden. Added to this was the +regularity of her daily work and the utter ignorance of what was going on in +the world, without even an echo from a sleepy quarter penetrating therein. +</p> + +<p> +But, above all, the gentlest influence came from the great love of the Huberts +for each other, which seemed to be enlarged by some unknown, incurable remorse. +He passed the days in endeavouring to make his wife forget the injury he had +done her in marrying her in spite of the opposition of her mother. He had +realised at the death of their child that she half accused him of this +punishment, and he wished to be forgiven. She had done so years ago, and now +she idolised him. Sometimes he was not sure of it, and this doubt saddened his +life. He wished they might have had another infant, and so feel assured that +the obstinate mother had been softened after death, and had withdrawn her +malediction. That, in fact, was their united desire—a child of pardon; +and he worshipped his wife with a tender love, ardent and pure as that of a +betrothed. If before the apprentice he did not even kiss her hand, he never +entered their chamber, even after twenty years of marriage, without an emotion +of gratitude for all the happiness that had been given him. This was their true +home, this room with its tinted paintings, its blue wall-paper, its pretty +hangings, and its walnut furniture. Never was an angry word uttered therein, +and, as if from a sanctuary, a sentiment of tenderness went out from its +occupants, and filled the house. It was thus for Angelique an atmosphere of +affection and love, in which she grew and thrived. +</p> + +<p> +An unexpected event finished the work of forming her character. As she was +rummaging one morning in a corner of the working-room, she found on a shelf, +among implements of embroidery which were no longer used, a very old copy of +the “Golden Legend,” by Jacques de Voragine. This French +translation, dating from 1549, must have been bought in the long ago by some +master-workman in church vestments, on account of the pictures, full of useful +information upon the Saints. It was a great while since Angelique had given any +attention to the little old carved images, showing such childlike faith, which +had once delighted her. But now, as soon as she was allowed to go out and play +in the garden, she took the book with her. It had been rebound in yellow calf, +and was in a good condition. She slowly turned over some of the leaves, then +looked at the title-page, in red and black, with the address of the bookseller: +“à Paris, en la rue Neufre Nostre-Dame, à l’enseigne Saint Jehan +Baptiste;” and decorated with medallions of the four Evangelists, framed +at the bottom by the Adoration of the Three Magi, and at the top by the Triumph +of Jesus Christ, and His resurrection. And then picture after picture followed; +there were ornamented letters, large and small, engravings in the text and at +the heading of the chapters; “The Annunciation,” an immense angel +inundating with rays of light a slight, delicate-looking Mary; “The +Massacre of the Innocents,” where a cruel Herod was seen surrounded by +dead bodies of dear little children; “The Nativity,” where Saint +Joseph is holding a candle, the light of which falls upon the face of the +Infant Jesus, Who sleeps in His mother’s arms; Saint John the Almoner, +giving to the poor; Saint Matthias, breaking an idol; Saint Nicholas as a +bishop, having at his right hand a little bucket filled with babies. And then, +a little farther on, came the female saints: Agnes, with her neck pierced by a +sword; Christina, torn by pincers; Genevieve, followed by her lambs; Juliana, +being whipped; Anastasia, burnt; Maria the Egyptian, repenting in the desert, +Mary of Magdalene, carrying the vase of precious ointment; and others and still +others followed. There was an increasing terror and a piety in each one of +them, making it a history which weighs upon the heart and fills the eyes with +tears. +</p> + +<p> +But, little by little, Angelique was curious to know exactly what these +engravings represented. The two columns of closely-printed text, the impression +of which remained very black upon the papers yellowed by time, frightened her +by the strange, almost barbaric look of the Gothic letters. Still, she +accustomed herself to it, deciphered these characters, learned the +abbreviations and the contractions, and soon knew how to explain the turning of +the phrases and the old-fashioned words. At last she could read it easily, and +was as enchanted as if she were penetrating a mystery, and she triumphed over +each new difficulty that she conquered. +</p> + +<p> +Under these laborious shades a whole world of light revealed itself. She +entered, as it were, into a celestial splendour. For now the few classic books +they owned, so cold and dry, existed no longer. The Legend alone interested +her. She bent over it, with her forehead resting on her hands, studying it so +intently, that she no longer lived in the real life, but, unconscious of time, +she seemed to see, mounting from the depths of the unknown, the broad expansion +of a dream. +</p> + +<p> +How wonderful it all was! These saints and virgins! They are born predestined; +solemn voices announce their coming, and their mothers have marvellous dreams +about them. All are beautiful, strong, and victorious. Great lights surround +them, and their countenances are resplendent. Dominic has a star on his +forehead. They read the minds of men and repeat their thoughts aloud. They have +the gift of prophecy, and their predictions are always realised. Their number +is infinite. Among them are bishops and monks, virgins and fallen women, +beggars and nobles of a royal race, unclothed hermits who live on roots, and +old men who inhabit caverns with goats. Their history is always the same. They +grow up for Christ, believe fervently in Him, refuse to sacrifice to false +gods, are tortured, and die filled with glory. Emperors were at last weary of +persecuting them. Andrew, after being attached to the cross, preached during +two days to twenty thousand persons. Conversions were made in masses, forty +thousand men being baptised at one time. When the multitudes were not converted +by the miracles, they fled terrified. The saints were accused of sorcery; +enigmas were proposed to them, which they solved at once; they were obliged to +dispute questions with learned men, who remained speechless before them. As +soon as they entered the temples of sacrifice the idols were overthrown with a +breath, and were broken to pieces. A virgin tied her sash around the neck of a +statue of Venus, which at once fell in powder. The earth trembled. The Temple +of Diana was struck by lightning and destroyed; and the people revolting, civil +wars ensued. Then often the executioners asked to be baptised; kings knelt at +the feet of saints in rags who had devoted themselves to poverty. Sabina flees +from the paternal roof. Paula abandons her five children. Mortifications of the +flesh and fasts purify, not oil or water. Germanus covers his food with ashes. +Bernard cares not to eat, but delights only in the taste of fresh water. Agatha +keeps for three years a pebble in her mouth. Augustinus is in despair for the +sin he has committed in turning to look after a dog who was running. Prosperity +and health are despised, and joy begins with privations which kill the body. +And it is thus that, subduing all things, they live at last in gardens where +the flowers are stars, and where the leaves of the trees sing. They exterminate +dragons, they raise and appease tempests, they seem in their ecstatic visions +to be borne above the earth. Their wants are provided for while living, and +after their death friends are advised by dreams to go and bury them. +Extraordinary things happen to them, and adventures far more marvellous than +those in a work of fiction. And when their tombs are opened after hundreds of +years, sweet odours escape therefrom. +</p> + +<p> +Then, opposite the saints, behold the evil spirits! +</p> + +<p> +“They often fly about us like insects, and fill the air without number. +The air is also full of demons, as the rays of the sun are full of atoms. It is +even like powder.” And the eternal contest begins. The saints are always +victorious, and yet they are constantly obliged to renew the battle. The more +the demons are driven away, the more they return. There were counted six +thousand six hundred and sixty-six in the body of a woman whom Fortunatus +delivered. They moved, they talked and cried, by the voice of the person +possessed, whose body they shook as if by a tempest. At each corner of the +highways an afflicted one is seen, and the first saint who passes contends with +the evil spirits. They enter by the eyes, the ears, and by the mouth, and, +after days of fearful struggling, they go out with loud groanings. Basilus, to +save a young man, contends personally with the Evil One. Macarius was attacked +when in a cemetery, and passed a whole night in defending himself. The angels, +even at deathbeds, in order to secure the soul of the dying were obliged to +beat the demons. At other times the contests are only of the intellect and the +mind, but are equally remarkable. Satan, who prowls about, assumes many forms, +sometimes disguising himself as a woman, and again, even as a saint. But, once +overthrown, he appears in all his ugliness: “a black cat, larger than a +dog, his huge eyes emitting flame, his tongue long, large, and bloody, his tail +twisted and raised in the air, and his whole body disgusting to the last +degree.” He is the one thing that is hated, and the only preoccupation. +People fear him, yet ridicule him. One is not even honest with him. In reality, +notwithstanding the ferocious appearance of his furnaces, he is the eternal +dupe. All the treaties he makes are forced from him by violence or cunning. +Feeble women throw him down: Margaret crushes his head with her feet, and +Juliana beats him with her chain. From all this a serenity disengages itself, a +disdain of evil, since it is powerless, and a certainty of good, since virtue +triumphs. It is only necessary to cross one’s self, and the Devil can do +no harm, but yells and disappears, while the infernal regions tremble. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in this combat of legions of saints against Satan are developed the +fearful sufferings from persecutions. The executioners expose to the flies the +martyrs whose bodies are covered with honey; they make them walk with bare feet +over broken glass or red-hot coals, put them in ditches with reptiles; chastise +them with whips, whose thongs are weighted with leaden balls; nail them when +alive in coffins, which they throw into the sea; hang them by their hair, and +then set fire to them; moisten their wounds with quicklime, boiling pitch, or +molten lead; make them sit on red-hot iron stools; burn their sides with +torches; break their bones on wheels, and torture them in every conceivable +way. And, with all this, physical pain counts for nothing; indeed, it seems to +be desired. Moreover, a continual miracle protects them. John drinks poison but +is unharmed. Sebastian smiles although pierced with arrows; sometimes they +remain in the air at the right or left of the martyr, or, launched by the +archer, they return upon himself and put out his eyes. Molten lead is swallowed +as if it were ice-water. Lions prostrate themselves, and lick their hands as +gently as lambs. The gridiron of Saint Lawrence is of an agreeable freshness to +him. He cries, “Unhappy man, you have roasted one side, turn the other +and then eat, for it is sufficiently cooked.” Cecilia, placed in a +boiling bath, is refreshed by it. Christina exhorts those who would torture +her. Her father had her whipped by twelve men, who at last drop from fatigue; +she is then attached to a wheel, under which a fire is kindled, and the flame, +turning to one side, devours fifteen hundred persons. She is then thrown into +the sea, but the angels support her; Jesus comes to baptise her in person, then +gives her to the charge of Saint Michael, that he may conduct her back to the +earth; after that she is placed for five days in a heated oven, where she +suffers not, but sings constantly. Vincent, who was exposed to still greater +tortures, feels them not. His limbs are broken, he is covered with red-hot +irons, he is pricked with needles, he is placed on a brazier of live coals, and +then taken back to prison, where his feet are nailed to a post. Yet he still +lives, and his pains are changed into a sweetness of flowers, a great light +fills his dungeon, and angels sing with him, giving him rest as if he were on a +bed of roses. The sweet sound of singing, and the fresh odour of flowers spread +without in the room, and when the guards saw the miracle they were converted to +the faith, and when Dacian heard of it, he was greatly enraged, and said, +“Do nothing more to him, for we are conquered.” Such was the +excitement among the persecutors, it could only end either by their conversion +or by their death. Their hands are paralysed; they perish violently; they are +choked by fish-bones; they are struck by lightning, and their chariots are +broken. In the meanwhile, the cells of the martyrs are resplendent. Mary and +the Apostles enter them at will, although the doors are bolted. Constant aid is +given, apparitions descend from the skies, where angels are waiting, holding +crowns of precious stones. Since death seems joyous, it is not feared, and +their friends are glad when they succumb to it. On Mount Ararat ten thousand +are crucified, and at Cologne eleven thousand virgins are massacred by the +Huns. In the circuses they are devoured by wild beasts. Quirique, who, by the +influence of the Holy Spirit, taught like a man, suffered martyrdom when but +three years of age. Nursing-children reproved the executioners. The hope for +celestial happiness deadened the physical senses and softened pain. Were they +torn to pieces, or burnt, they minded it not. They never yielded, and they +called for the sword, which alone could kill them. Eulalia, when at the stake, +breathes the flame that she may die the more quickly. Her prayer is granted, +and a white dove flies from her mouth and bears her soul to heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique marvelled greatly at all these accounts. So many abominations and +such triumphant joy delighted her and carried her out of herself. +</p> + +<p> +But other points in the Legend, of quite a different nature, also interested +her; the animals, for instance, of which there were enough to fill an Ark of +Noah. She liked the ravens and the eagles who fed the hermits. +</p> + +<p> +Then what lovely stories there were about the lions. The serviceable one who +found a resting-place in a field for Mary the Egyptian; the flaming lion who +protected virgins or maidens in danger; and then the lion of Saint Jerome, to +whose care an ass had been confided, and, when the animal was stolen, went in +search of him and brought him back. There was also the penitent wolf, who had +restored a little pig he had intended eating. Then there was Bernard, who +excommunicates the flies, and they drop dead. Remi and Blaise feed birds at +their table, bless them, and make them strong. Francis, “filled with a +dove-like simplicity,” preaches to them, and exhorts them to love God. A +bird was on a branch of a fig-tree, and Francis, holding out his hand, beckoned +to it, and soon it obeyed, and lighted on his hand. And he said to it, +“Sing my sister, and praise the Lord.” And immediately the bird +began to sing, and did not go away until it was told to do so. +</p> + +<p> +All this was a continual source of recreation to Angelique, and gave her the +idea of calling to the swallows, and hoping they might come to her. +</p> + +<p> +The good giant Christopher, who carried the Infant Christ on his shoulders, +delighted her so much as to bring tears to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She was very merry over the misadventures of a certain Governor with the three +chambermaids of Anastasia, whom he hoped to have found in the kitchen, where he +kissed the stove and the kettles, thinking he was embracing them. “He +went out therefrom very black and ugly, and his clothes quite smutched. And +when his servants, who were waiting, saw him in such a state, they thought he +was the Devil. Then they beat him with birch-rods, and, running away, left him +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +But that which convulsed her most with laughter, was the account of the blows +given to the Evil One himself, especially when Juliana, having been tempted by +him in her prison cell, administered such an extraordinary chastisement with +her chain. “Then the Provost commanded that Juliana should be brought +before him; and when she came into his presence, she was drawing the Devil +after her, and he cried out, saying, ‘My good lady Juliana, do not hurt +me any more!’ She led him in this way around the public square, and +afterwards threw him into a deep ditch.” +</p> + +<p> +Often Angelique would repeat to the Huberts, as they were all at work together, +legends far more interesting than any fairy-tale. She had read them over so +often that she knew them by heart, and she told in a charming way the story of +the Seven Sleepers, who, to escape persecution, walled themselves up in a +cavern, and whose awakening greatly astonished the Emperor Theodosius. Then the +Legend of Saint Clement with its endless adventures, so unexpected and +touching, where the whole family, father, mother, and three sons, separated by +terrible misfortunes, are finally re-united in the midst of the most beautiful +miracles. +</p> + +<p> +Her tears would flow at these recitals. She dreamed of them at night, she +lived, as it were, only in this tragic and triumphant world of prodigy, in a +supernatural country where all virtues are recompensed by all imaginable joys. +</p> + +<p> +When Angelique partook of her first Communion, it seemed as if she were +walking, like the saints, a little above the earth. She was a young Christian +of the primitive Church; she gave herself into the hands of God, having learned +from her book that she could not be saved without grace. +</p> + +<p> +The Huberts were simple in their profession of faith. They went every Sunday to +Mass, and to Communion on all great fête-days, and this was done with the +tranquil humility of true belief, aided a little by tradition, as the +chasubliers had from father to son always observed the Church ceremonies, +particularly those at Easter. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert himself had a tendency to imaginative fancies. He would at times stop +his work and let fall his frame to listen to the child as she read or repeated +the legends, and, carried away for the moment by her enthusiasm, it seemed as +if his hair were blown about by the light breath of some invisible power. He +was so in sympathy with Angelique, and associated her to such a degree with the +youthful saints of the past, that he wept when he saw her in her white dress +and veil. This day at church was like a dream, and they returned home quite +exhausted. Hubertine was obliged to scold them both, for, with her excellent +common-sense, she disliked exaggeration even in good things. +</p> + +<p> +From that time she had to restrain the zeal of Angelique, especially in her +tendency to what she thought was charity, and to which she wished to devote +herself. Saint Francis had wedded poverty; Julien the Chaplain had called the +poor his superiors; Gervasius and Protais had washed the feet of the most +indigent, and Martin had divided his cloak with them. So she, following the +example of Lucy, wished to sell everything that she might give. At first she +disposed of all her little private possessions, then she began to pillage the +house. But at last she gave without judgment and foolishly. One evening, two +days after her Confirmation, being reprimanded for having thrown from the +window several articles of underwear to a drunken woman, she had a terrible +attack of anger like those when she was young; then, overcome by shame, she was +really ill and forced to keep her bed for a couple of days. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +In the meanwhile, weeks and months went by. Two years had passed. Angelique was +now fourteen years of age and quite womanly. When she read the “Golden +Legend,” she would have a humming in her ears, the blood circulated +quickly through the blue veins near her temples, and she felt a deep tenderness +towards all these virgin saints. +</p> + +<p> +Maidenhood is the sister of the angels, the union of all good, the overthrow of +evil, the domain of faith. It gives grace, it is perfection, which has only +need to show itself to conquer. The action of the Holy Spirit rendered Lucy so +heavy that a thousand men and five pair of oxen could not drag her away from +her home. An officer who tried to kiss Anastasia was struck blind. Under +torture, the purity of the virgins is always powerful; from their exquisite +white limbs, torn by instruments, milk flows instead of blood. Ten different +times the story is told of the young convert who, to escape from her family, +who wish her to marry against her will, assumes the garb of a monk, is accused +of some misdeed, suffers punishment without indicating herself, and at last +triumphs by announcing her name. Eugenia is in this way brought before a judge, +whom she recognises as her father and reveals herself to him. Externally the +combat of chastity recommences; always the thorns reappear. Thus the wisest +saints shrink from being tempted. As the world is filled with snares, hermits +flee to the desert, where they scourge themselves, throw themselves on the +snow, or in beds of prickly herbs. A solitary monk covers his fingers with his +mantle, that he may aid his mother in crossing a creek. A martyr bound to a +stake, being tempted by a young girl, bites off his tongue with his teeth and +spits it at her. All glorify the state of single blessedness. Alexis, very +wealthy and in a high position, marries, but leaves his wife at the +church-door. One weds only to die. Justina, in love with Cyprianus, converts +him, and they walk together to their punishment. Cecilia, beloved by an angel, +reveals the secret to Valerian on their wedding-day, and he, that he may see +the spirit, consents to be baptised. He found in his room Cecilia talking with +the angel, who held in his hand two wreaths of roses, and, giving one to +Cecilia, and one to Valerian, he said, “Keep these crowns, like your +hearts, pure and unspotted.” In many cases it was proved that death was +stronger than love, and couples were united only as a challenge to existence. +It was said that even the Virgin Mary at times prevented betrothals from ending +in a marriage. A nobleman, a relative of the King of Hungary, renounced his +claims to a young girl of marvellous beauty on this account. “Suddenly +our Blessed Lady appeared, and said to him: ‘If I am indeed so beautiful +as you have called me, why do you leave me for another?’ And he became a +most devout man for the rest of his life.” +</p> + +<p> +Among all this saintly company, Angelique had her preferences, and there were +those whose experiences touched her to the heart, and helped her to correct her +failings. Thus the learned Catherine, of high birth, enchanted her by her great +scientific knowledge, when, only eighteen years of age, she was called by the +Emperor Maximus to discuss certain questions with fifty rhetoricians and +grammarians. She astonished and convinced them. “They were amazed and +knew not what to say, but they remained quiet. And the Emperor blamed them for +their weakness in allowing themselves to be so easily conquered by a young +girl.” The fifty professors then declared that they were converted. +“And as soon as the tyrant heard that, he had so terrible a fit of anger, +that he commanded they should all be burned to death in the public +square.” In her eyes Catherine was the invincible learned woman, as proud +and dazzling in intellect as in beauty, just as she would have liked to be, +that she might convert men, and be fed in prison by a dove, before having her +head cut off. But Saint Elizabeth, the daughter of the King of Hungary, was for +her a constant teacher and guide. Whenever she was inclined to yield to her +violent temper, she thought of this model of gentleness and simplicity, who was +at five years of age very devout, refusing to join her playmates in their +sports, and sleeping on the ground, that, in abasing herself, she might all the +better render homage to God. Later, she was the faithful, obedient wife of the +Landgrave of Thuringia, always showing to her husband a smiling face, although +she passed her nights in tears. When she became a widow she was driven from her +estates, but was happy to lead the life of poverty. Her dress was so thin from +use, that she wore a grey mantle, lengthened out by cloth of a different shade. +The sleeves of her jacket had been torn, and were mended with a material of +another colour. The king, her father, wishing her to come to him, sent for her +by a Count. And when the Count saw her clothed in such a way and spinning, +overcome with surprise and grief, he exclaimed: “Never before did one see +the daughter of a Royal House in so miserable a garb, and never was one known +to spin wool until now.” So Christian and sincere was her humility, that +she ate black bread with the poorest peasants, nursed them when ill, dressed +their sores without repugnance, put on coarse garments like theirs, and +followed them in the church processions with bare feet. She was once washing +the porringers and the utensils of the kitchen, when the maids, seeing her so +out of place, urged her to desist, but she replied, “Could I find another +task more menial even than this, I would do it.” Influenced by her +example, Angelique, who was formerly angry when obliged to do any cleaning in +the kitchen, now tried to invent some extremely disagreeable task when she felt +nervous and in need of control. +</p> + +<p> +But more than Catherine, more than Elizabeth, far nearer and dearer to her than +all the other saints, was Agnes, the child-martyr; and her heart leaped with +joy on refinding in the “Golden Legend” this virgin, clothed with +her own hair, who had protected her under the Cathedral portal. What ardour of +pure love, as she repelled the son of the Governor when he accosted her on her +way from school! “Go—leave me, minister of death, commencement of +sin, and child of treason!” How exquisitely she described her beloved! +“I love the One whose Mother was a Virgin, and whose father was faithful +to her, at whose beauty the sun and moon marvelled, and at whose touch the dead +were made alive.” And when Aspasien commanded that “her throat +should be cut by the sword,” she ascended into Paradise to be united to +her “betrothed, whiter and purer than silver-gilt.” +</p> + +<p> +Always, when weary or disturbed, Angelique called upon and implored her, and it +seemed as if peace came to her at once. She saw her constantly near her, and +often she regretted having done or thought of things which would have +displeased her. +</p> + +<p> +One evening as she was kissing her hands, a habit which she still at times +indulged in, she suddenly blushed and turned away, although she was quite +alone, for it seemed as if the little saint must have seen her. Agnes was her +guardian angel. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, at fifteen Angelique was an adorable child. Certainly, neither the quiet, +laborious life, nor the soothing shadows of the Cathedral, nor the legends of +the beautiful saints, had made her an angel, a creature of absolute perfection. +She was often angry, and certain weaknesses of character showed themselves, +which had never been sufficiently guarded against; but she was always ashamed +and penitent if she had done wrong, for she wished so much to be perfect. And +she was so human, so full of life, so ignorant, and withal so pure in reality. +</p> + +<p> +One day, on returning from a long excursion which the Huberts allowed her to +take twice a year, on Pentecost Monday and on Assumption Day, she took home +with her a sweetbriar bush, and then amused herself by replanting it in the +narrow garden. She trimmed it and watered it well: it grew and sent out long +branches, filled with odour. With her usual intensity, she watched it daily, +but was unwilling to have it grafted, as she wished to see if, by some miracle, +it could not be made to bear roses. She danced around it, she repeated +constantly: “This bush is like me; it is like me!” And if one joked +her upon her great wild-rose bush, she joined them in their laughter, although +a little pale, and with tears almost ready to fall. Her violet-coloured eyes +were softer than ever, her half-opened lips revealed little white teeth, and +her oval face had a golden aureole from her light wavy hair. She had grown tall +without being too slight; her neck and shoulders were exquisitely graceful; her +chest was full, her waist flexible; and gay, healthy, of a rare beauty, she had +an infinite charm, arising from the innocence and purity of her soul. +</p> + +<p> +Every day the affection of the Huberts for her increased. They often talked +together of their mutual wish to adopt her. Yet they took no active measures in +that way, lest they might have cause to regret it. One morning, when the +husband announced his final decision, his wife suddenly began to weep bitterly. +To adopt a child? Was not that the same as giving up all hope of having one of +their own? Yet it was useless for them to expect one now, after so many years +of waiting, and she gave her consent, in reality delighted that she could call +her her daughter. When Angelique was spoken to on the subject, she threw her +arms around their necks, kissed them both, and was almost choked with tears of +joy. +</p> + +<p> +So it was agreed upon that she was always to remain with them in this house, +which now seemed to be filled with her presence, rejuvenated by her youth, and +penetrated by her laughter. But an unexpected obstacle was met with at the +first step. The Justice of the Peace, Monsieur Grandsire, on being consulted, +explained to them the radical impossibility of adoption, since by law the +adopted must be “of age.” Then, seeing their disappointment, he +suggested the expedient of a legal guardianship: any individual over fifty +years of age can attach himself to a minor of fifteen years or less by a legal +claim, on becoming their official protector. The ages were all right, so they +were delighted, and accepted. It was even arranged that they should afterwards +confer the title of adoption upon their ward by way of their united last will +and testament, as such a thing would be permitted by the Code. Monsieur +Grandsire, furnished with the demand of the husband and the authorisation of +the wife, then put himself in communication with the Director of Public Aid, +the general guardian for all abandoned children, whose consent it was necessary +to have. Great inquiries were made, and at last the necessary papers were +placed in Paris, with a certain Justice of the Peace chosen for the purpose. +And all was ready except the official report which constitutes the legality of +guardianship, when the Huberts suddenly were taken with certain scruples. +</p> + +<p> +Before receiving Angelique into their family, ought not they to ascertain if +she had any relatives on her side? Was her mother still alive? Had they the +right to dispose of the daughter without being absolutely sure that she had +willingly been given up and deserted? Then, in reality, the unknown origin of +the child, which had troubled them long ago, came back to them now and made +them hesitate. They were so tormented by this anxiety that they could not +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Without any more talk, Hubert unexpectedly announced that he was going to +Paris. Such a journey seemed like a catastrophe in his calm existence. He +explained the necessity of it to Angelique, by speaking of the guardianship. He +hoped to arrange everything in twenty-four hours. But once in the city, days +passed; obstacles arose on every side. He spent a week there, sent from one to +another, really doing nothing, and quite discouraged. In the first place, he +was received very coldly at the Office of Public Assistance. The rule of the +Administration is that children shall not be told of their parents until they +are of age. So for two mornings in succession he was sent away from the office. +He persisted, however, explained the matter to three secretaries, made himself +hoarse in talking to an under-officer, who wished to counsel him that he had +not official papers. The Administration were quite ignorant. A nurse had left +the child there, “Angelique Marie,” without naming the mother. In +despair he was about to return to Beaumont, when a new idea impelled him to +return for the fourth time to the office, to see the book in which the arrival +of the infant had been noted down, and in that way to have the address of the +nurse. That proved quite an undertaking. But at last he succeeded, and found it +was a Madame Foucart, and that in 1850 she lived on the Rue des Deux-Ecus. +</p> + +<p> +Then he recommenced his hunting up and down. The end of the Rue des Deux-Ecus +had been demolished, and no shopkeeper in the neighbourhood recollected ever +having heard of Madame Foucart. He consulted the directory, but there was no +such name. Looking at every sign as he walked along, he called on one after +another, and at last, in this way, he had the good fortune to find an old +woman, who exclaimed, in answer to his questions, “What! Do I know Madame +Foucart? A most honourable person, but one who has had many misfortunes. She +lives on the Rue de Censier, quite at the other end of Paris.” He +hastened there at once. +</p> + +<p> +Warned by experience, he determined now to be diplomatic. But Madame Foucart, +an enormous woman, would not allow him to ask questions in the good order he +had arranged them before going there. As soon as he mentioned the two names of +the child, she seemed to be eager to talk, and she related its whole history in +a most spiteful way. “Ah! the child was alive! Very well; she might +flatter herself that she had for a mother a most famous hussy. Yes, Madame +Sidonie, as she was called since she became a widow, was a woman of a good +family, having, it is said, a brother who was a minister, but that did not +prevent her from being very bad.” And she explained that she had made her +acquaintance when she kept, on the Rue Saint-Honoré, a little shop where they +dealt in fruit and oil from Provence, she and her husband, when they came from +Plassans, hoping to make their fortune in the city. The husband died and was +buried, and soon after Madame Sidonie had a little daughter, which she sent at +once to the hospital, and never after even inquired for her, as she was +“a heartless woman, cold as a protest and brutal as a sheriff’s +aid.” A fault can be pardoned, but not ingratitude! Was not it true that, +obliged to leave her shop as she was so heavily in debt, she had been received +and cared for by Madame Foucart? And when in her turn she herself had fallen +into difficulties, she had never been able to obtain from Madame Sidonie, even +the month’s board she owed her, nor the fifteen francs she had once lent +her. To-day the “hateful thing” lived on the Rue de +Faubourg-Poissonnière, where she had a little apartment of three rooms. She +pretended to be a cleaner and mender of lace, but she sold a good many other +things. Ah! yes! such a mother as that it was best to know nothing about! +</p> + +<p> +An hour later, Hubert was walking round the house where Madame Sidonie lived. +He saw through the window a woman, thin, pale, coarse-looking, wearing an old +black gown, stained and greased. Never could the heart of such a person be +touched by the recollection of a daughter whom she had only seen on the day of +its birth. He concluded it would be best not to repeat, even to his wife, many +things that he had just learned. Still he hesitated. Once more he passed by the +place, and looked again. Ought not he to go in, to introduce himself, and to +ask the consent of the unnatural parent? As an honest man, it was for him to +judge if he had the right of cutting the tie there and for ever. Brusquely he +turned his back, hurried away, and returned that evening to Beaumont. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine had just learned that the <i>procès-verbal</i> at Monsieur +Grandsire’s, for the guardianship of the child, had been signed. And when +Angelique threw herself into Hubert’s arms, he saw clearly by the look of +supplication in her eyes, that she had understood the true reason of his +journey. +</p> + +<p> +Then he said quietly: “My child, your mother is not living.” +Angelique wept, as she kissed him most affectionately. After this the subject +was not referred to. She was their daughter. +</p> + +<p> +At Whitsuntide, this year, the Huberts had taken Angelique with them to lunch +at the ruins of the Château d’Hautecœur, which overlooks the Ligneul, +two leagues below Beaumont; and, after the day spent in running and laughing in +the open air, the young girl still slept when, the next morning, the old +house-clock struck eight. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine was obliged to go up and rap at her door. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well! Little lazy child! We have already had our breakfast, and it +is late.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique dressed herself quickly and went down to the kitchen, where she took +her rolls and coffee alone. Then, when she entered the workroom, where Hubert +and his wife had just seated themselves, after having arranged their frames for +embroidery, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how soundly I did sleep! I had quite forgotten that we had promised +to finish this chasuble for next Sunday.” +</p> + +<p> +This workroom, the windows of which opened upon the garden, was a large +apartment, preserved almost entirely in its original state. The two principal +beams of the ceiling, and the three visible cross-beams of support, had not +even been whitewashed, and they were blackened by smoke and worm-eaten, while, +through the openings of the broken plaster, here and there, the laths of the +inner joists could be seen. On one of the stone corbels, which supported the +beams, was the date 1463, without doubt the date of the construction of the +building. The chimney-piece, also in stone, broken and disjointed, had traces +of its original elegance, with its slender uprights, its brackets, its frieze +with a cornice, and its basket-shaped funnel terminating in a crown. On the +frieze could be seen even now, as if softened by age, an ingenious attempt at +sculpture, in the way of a likeness of Saint Clair, the patron of embroiderers. +But this chimney was no longer used, and the fireplace had been turned into an +open closet by putting shelves therein, on which were piles of designs and +patterns. The room was now heated by a great bell-shaped cast-iron stove, the +pipe of which, after going the whole length of the ceiling, entered an opening +made expressly for it in the wall. The doors, already shaky, were of the time +of Louis XIV.. The original tiles of the floor were nearly all gone, and had +been replaced, one by one, by those of a later style. It was nearly a hundred +years since the yellow walls had been coloured, and at the top of the room they +were almost of a greyish white, and, lower down, were scratched and spotted +with saltpetre. Each year there was talk of repainting them, but nothing had +yet been done, from a dislike of making any change. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, busy at her work, raised her head as Angelique spoke and said: +</p> + +<p> +“You know that if our work is done on Sunday, I have promised to give you +a basket of pansies for your garden.” +</p> + +<p> +The young girl exclaimed gaily: “Oh, yes! that is true. Ah, well! I will +do my best then! But where is my thimble? It seems as if all working implements +take to themselves wings and fly away, if not in constant use.” +</p> + +<p> +She flipped the old <i>doigtier</i> of ivory on the second joint of her little +finger, and took her place on the other side of the frame, opposite to the +window. +</p> + +<p> +Since the middle of the last century there had not been the slightest +modification in the fittings and arrangements of the workroom. Fashions +changed, the art of the embroiderer was transformed, but there was still seen +fastened to the wall the chantlate, the great piece of wood where was placed +one end of the frame or work, while the other end was supported by a moving +trestle. In the corners were many ancient tools—a little machine called a +“diligent,” with its wheels and its long pins, to wind the gold +thread on the reels without touching it; a hand spinning-wheel; a species of +pulley to twist the threads which were attached to the wall; rollers of various +sizes covered with silks and threads used in the crochet embroidery. Upon a +shelf was spread out an old collection of punches for the spangles, and there +was also to be seen a valuable relic, in the shape of the classic chandelier in +hammered brass which belonged to some ancient master-workman. On the rings of a +rack made of a nailed leather strap were hung awls, mallets, hammers, irons to +cut the vellum, and roughing chisels of bogwood, which were used to smooth the +threads as fast as they were employed. And yet again, at the foot of the heavy +oaken table on which the cutting-out was done, was a great winder, whose two +movable reels of wicker held the skeins. Long chains of spools of +bright-coloured silks strung on cords were hung near that case of drawers. On +the floor was a large basket filled with empty bobbins. A pair of great shears +rested on the straw seat of one of the chairs, and a ball of cord had just +fallen on the floor, half unwound. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! what lovely weather! What perfect weather!” continued +Angelique. “It is a pleasure simply to live and to breathe.” +</p> + +<p> +And before stooping to apply herself to her work, she delayed another moment +before the open window, through which entered all the beauty of a radiant May +morning. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +The sun shone brightly on the roof of the Cathedral, a fresh odour of lilacs +came up from the bushes in the garden of the Bishop. Angelique smiled, as she +stood there, dazzled, and as if bathed in the springtide. Then, starting as if +suddenly awakened from sleep, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Father, I have no more gold thread for my work.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, who had just finished pricking the tracing of the pattern of a cope, +went to get a skein from the case of drawers, cut it, tapered off the two ends +by scratching the gold which covered the silk, and he brought it to her rolled +up in parchment. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all you need?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +With a quick glance she had assured herself that nothing more was wanting; the +needles were supplied with the different golds, the red, the green, and the +blue; there were spools of every shade of silk; the spangles were ready; and +the twisted wires for the gold lace were in the crown of a hat which served as +a box, with the long fine needles, the steel pincers, the thimbles, the +scissors, and the ball of wax. All these were on the frame even, or on the +material stretched therein, which was protected by a thick brown paper. +</p> + +<p> +She had threaded a needle with the gold thread. But at the first stitch it +broke, and she was obliged to thread it again, breaking off tiny bits of the +gold, which she threw immediately into the pasteboard waste-basket which was +near her. +</p> + +<p> +“Now at last I am ready,” she said, as she finished her first +stitch. +</p> + +<p> +Perfect silence followed. Hubert was preparing to stretch some material on +another frame. He had placed the two heavy ends on the chantlate and the +trestle directly opposite in such a way as to take lengthwise the red silk of +the cope, the breadths of which Hubertine had just stitched together, and +fitting the laths into the mortice of the beams, he fastened them with four +little nails. Then, after smoothing the material many times from right to left, +he finished stretching it and tacked on the nails. To assure himself that it +was thoroughly tight and firm, he tapped on the cloth with his fingers and it +sounded like a drum. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had become a most skilful worker, and the Huberts were astonished at +her cleverness and taste. In addition to what they had taught her, she carried +into all she did her personal enthusiasm, which gave life to flowers and faith +to symbols. Under her hands, silk and gold seemed animated; the smaller +ornaments were full of mystic meaning; she gave herself up to it entirely, with +her imagination constantly active and her firm belief in the infinitude of the +invisible world. +</p> + +<p> +The Diocese of Beaumont had been so charmed with certain pieces of her +embroidery, that a clergyman who was an archaeologist, and another who was an +admirer of pictures, had come to see her, and were in raptures before her +Virgins, which they compared to the simple gracious figures of the earliest +masters. There was the same sincerity, the same sentiment of the beyond, as if +encircled in the minutest perfection of detail. She had the real gift of +design, a miraculous one indeed, which, without a teacher, with nothing but her +evening studies by lamplight, enabled her often to correct her models, to +deviate entirely from them, and to follow her own fancies, creating beautiful +things with the point of her needle. So the Huberts, who had always insisted +that a thorough knowledge of the science of drawing was necessary to make a +good embroiderer, were obliged to yield before her, notwithstanding their long +experience. And, little by little, they modestly withdrew into the background, +becoming simply her aids, surrendering to her all the most elaborate work, the +under part of which they prepared for her. +</p> + +<p> +From one end of the year to the other, what brilliant and sacred marvels passed +through her hands! She was always occupied with silks, satins, velvets, or +cloths of gold or silver. She embroidered chasubles, stoles, maniples, copes, +dalmatics, mitres, banners, and veils for the chalice and the pyx. But, above +all, their orders for chasubles never failed, and they worked constantly at +those vestments, with their five colours: the white, for Confessors and +Virgins; the red, for Apostles and Martyrs; the black, for the days of fasting +and for the dead; the violet, for the Innocents; and the green for fête-days. +Gold was also often used in place of white or of green. The same symbols were +always in the centre of the Cross: the monograms of Jesus and of the Virgin +Mary, the triangle surrounded with rays, the lamb, the pelican, the dove, a +chalice, a monstrance, and a bleeding heart pierced with thorns; while higher +up and on the arms were designs, or flowers, all the ornamentation being in the +ancient style, and all the flora in large blossoms, like anemones, tulips, +peonies, pomegranates, or hortensias. No season passed in which she did not +remake the grapes and thorns symbolic, putting silver on black, and gold on +red. For the most costly vestments, she varied the pictures of the heads of +saints, having, as a central design, the Annunciation, the Last Supper, or the +Crucifixion. Sometimes the orfreys were worked on the original material itself; +at others, she applied bands of silk or satin on brocades of gold cloth, or of +velvet. And all this efflorescence of sacred splendour was created, little by +little, by her deft fingers. At this moment the vestment on which Angelique was +at work was a chasuble of white satin, the cross of which was made by a sheaf +of golden lilies intertwined with bright roses, in various shades of silk. In +the centre, in a wreath of little roses of dead gold, was the monogram of the +Blessed Virgin, in red and green gold, with a great variety of ornaments. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour, during which she skilfully finished the little roses, the silence +had not been broken even by a single word. But her thread broke again, and she +re-threaded her needle by feeling carefully under the frame, as only an adroit +person can do. Then, as she raised her head, she again inhaled with +satisfaction the pure, fresh air that came in from the garden. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said softly, “how beautiful it was yesterday! The +sunshine is always perfect.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine shook her head as she stopped to wax her thread. +</p> + +<p> +“As for me, I am so wearied, it seems as if I had no arms, and it tires +me to work. But that is not strange, for I so seldom go out, and am no longer +young and strong, as you are at sixteen.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had reseated herself and resumed her work. She prepared the lilies by +sewing bits of vellum on certain places that had been marked, so as to give +them relief, but the flowers themselves were not to be made until later, for +fear the gold be tarnished were the hands moved much over it. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, who, having finished arranging the material in its frame, was about +drawing with pumice the pattern of the cope, joined in the conversation and +said: “These first warm days of spring are sure to give me a terrible +headache.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique’s eyes seemed to be vaguely lost in the rays which now fell +upon one of the flying buttresses of the church, as she dreamily added: +“Oh no, father, I do not think so. One day in the lively air, like +yesterday, does me a world of good.” +</p> + +<p> +Having finished the little golden leaves, she began one of the large roses, +near the lilies. Already she had threaded several needles with the silks +required, and she embroidered in stitches varying in length, according to the +natural position and movement of the petals, and notwithstanding the extreme +delicacy and absorbing nature of this work, the recollections of the previous +day, which she lived over again in thought and in silence, now came to her +lips, and crowded so closely upon each other that she no longer tried to keep +them back. So she talked of their setting out upon their expedition, of the +beautiful fields they crossed, of their lunch over there in the ruins of +Hautecœur, upon the flagstones of a little room whose tumble-down walls +towered far above the Ligneul, which rolled gently among the willows fifty +yards below them. +</p> + +<p> +She was enthusiastic over these crumbling ruins, and the scattered blocks of +stone among the brambles, which showed how enormous the colossal structure must +have been as, when first built, it commanded the two valleys. The donjon +remained, nearly two hundred feet in height, discoloured, cracked, but +nevertheless firm, upon its foundation pillars fifteen feet thick. Two of its +towers had also resisted the attacks of Time—that of Charlemagne and that +of David—united by a heavy wall almost intact. In the interior, the +chapel, the court-room, and certain chambers were still easily recognised; and +all this appeared to have been built by giants, for the steps of the stairways, +the sills of the windows, and the branches on the terraces, were all on a scale +far out of proportion for the generation of to-day. It was, in fact, quite a +little fortified city. Five hundred men could have sustained there a siege of +thirty months without suffering from want of ammunition or of provisions. For +two centuries the bricks of the lowest story had been disjointed by the wild +roses; lilacs and laburnums covered with blossoms the rubbish of the fallen +ceilings; a plane-tree had even grown up in the fireplace of the guardroom. But +when, at sunset, the outline of the donjon cast its long shadow over three +leagues of cultivated ground, and the colossal Château seemed to be rebuilt in +the evening mists, one still felt the great strength, and the old sovereignty, +which had made of it so impregnable a fortress that even the kings of France +trembled before it. +</p> + +<p> +“And I am sure,” continued Angelique, “that it is inhabited +by the souls of the dead, who return at night. All kinds of noises are heard +there; in every direction are monsters who look at you, and when I turned round +as we were coming away, I saw great white figures fluttering above the wall. +But, mother, you know all the history of the castle, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine replied, as she smiled in an amused way: “Oh! as for ghosts, I +have never seen any of them myself.” +</p> + +<p> +But in reality, she remembered perfectly the history, which she had read long +ago, and to satisfy the eager questionings of the young girl, she was obliged +to relate it over again. +</p> + +<p> +The land belonged to the Bishopric of Rheims, since the days of Saint Remi, who +had received it from Clovis. +</p> + +<p> +An archbishop, Severin, in the early years of the tenth century, had erected at +Hautecœur a fortress to defend the country against the Normans, who were +coming up the river Oise, into which the Ligneul flows. +</p> + +<p> +In the following century a successor of Severin gave it in fief to Norbert, a +younger son of the house of Normandy, in consideration of an annual quit-rent +of sixty sous, and on the condition that the city of Beaumont and its church +should remain free and unincumbered. It was in this way that Norbert I. became +the head of the Marquesses of Hautecœur, whose famous line from that date +became so well known in history. Hervé IV., excommunicated twice for his robbery +of ecclesiastical property, became a noted highwayman, who killed, on a certain +occasion, with his own hands, thirty citizens, and his tower was razed to the +ground by Louis le Gros, against whom he had dared to declare war. Raoul I., who +went to the Crusades with Philip Augustus, perished before Saint Jean +d’Acre, having been pierced through the heart by a lance. But the most +illustrious of the race was John V, the Great, who, in 1225, rebuilt the +fortress, finishing in less than five years this formidable Château of +Hautecœur, under whose shelter he, for a moment, dreamed of aspiring to the +throne of France, and after having escaped from being killed in twenty battles, +he at last died quietly in his bed, brother-in-law to the King of Scotland. +Then came Felician III, who made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem barefooted; Hervé +VII., who asserted his claims to the throne of Scotland; and still many others, +noble and powerful in their day and generation, down to Jean IX., who, under +Mazarin, had the grief of assisting at the dismantling of the castle. After a +desperate siege, the vaults of the towers and of the donjon were blown up with +powder, and the different constructions were set on fire; where Charles VI had +been sent to rest, and to turn his attention from his vagaries, and where, +nearly two hundred years later, Henri IV. had passed a week as Gabrielle +D’Estress. Thenceforth, all these royal souvenirs had passed into +oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, without stopping the movement of her needle, listened eagerly, as if +the vision of these past grandeurs rose up from her frame, in proportion as the +rose grew there in its delicate life of colour. Her ignorance of general +history enlarged facts, and she received them as if they were the basis of a +marvellous legend. She trembled with delight, and, transported by her faith, it +seemed as if the reconstructed Château mounted to the very gates of heaven, and +the Hautecœurs were cousins to the Virgin Mary. +</p> + +<p> +When there was a pause in the recital she asked, “Is not our new Bishop +Monseigneur d’Hautecœur, a descendant of this noted family?” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine replied that Monseigneur must belong to the younger branch of the +family, as the elder branch had been extinct for a very long time. It was, +indeed, a most singular return, as for centuries the Marquesses of Hautecœur +and the clergy of Beaumont had been hostile to each other. Towards 1150 an +abbot undertook to build a church, with no other resources than those of his +Order; so his funds soon gave out, when the edifice was no higher than the +arches of the side chapels, and they were obliged to cover the nave with a +wooden roof. Eighty years passed, and Jean V. came to rebuild the Château, when +he gave three hundred thousand pounds, which, added to other sums, enabled the +work on the church to be continued. The nave was finished, but the two towers +and the great front were terminated much later, towards 1430, in the full +fifteenth century. To recompense Jean V. for his liberality, the clergy accorded +to him, for himself and his descendants, the right of burial in a chapel of the +apse, consecrated to St. George, and which, since that time, had been called +the Chapel Hautecœur. But these good terms were not of long duration. The +freedom of Beaumont was put in constant peril by the Château, and there were +continual hostilities on the questions of tribute and of precedence. One +especially, the right of paying toll, which the nobles demanded for the +navigation of the Ligneul, perpetuated the quarrels. Then it was that the great +prosperity of the lower town began, with its manufacturing of fine linen and +lace, and from this epoch the fortune of Beaumont increased daily, while that +of Hautecœur diminished, until the time when the castle was dismantled and the +church triumphed. Louis XIV. made of it a cathedral, a bishop’s palace was +built in the old enclosure of the monks, and, by a singular chain of +circumstances, to-day a member of the family of Hautecœur had returned as a +bishop to command the clergy, who, always powerful, had conquered his +ancestors, after a contest of four hundred years. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Angelique, “Monseigneur has been married, and has +not he a son at least twenty years of age?” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine had taken up the shears to remodel one of the pieces of vellum. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied, “the Abbot Cornille told me the whole +story, and it is a very sad history. When but twenty years of age, Monseigneur +was a captain under Charles X. In 1830, when only four-and-twenty, he resigned +his position in the army, and it is said that from that time until he was forty +years of age he led an adventurous life, travelling everywhere and having many +strange experiences. At last, one evening, he met, at the house of a friend in +the country, the daughter of the Count de Valencay, Mademoiselle Pauline, very +wealthy, marvellously beautiful, and scarcely nineteen years of age, twenty-two +years younger than himself. He fell violently in love with her, and, as she +returned his affection, there was no reason why the marriage should not take +place at once. He then bought the ruins of Hautecœur for a mere song—ten +thousand francs, I believe—with the intention of repairing the Château +and installing his wife therein when all would be in order and in readiness to +receive her. In the meanwhile they went to live on one of his family estates in +Anjou, scarcely seeing any of their friends, and finding in their united +happiness the days all too short. But, alas! at the end of a year Pauline had a +son and died.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, who was still occupied with marking out his pattern, raised his head, +showing a very pale face as he said in a low voice: “Oh! the unhappy +man!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was said that he himself almost died from his great grief,” +continued Hubertine. “At all events, a fortnight later he entered into +Holy Orders, and soon became a priest. That was twenty years ago, and now he is +a bishop. But I have also been told that during all this time he has refused to +see his son, the child whose birth cost the life of its mother. He had placed +him with an uncle of his wife’s, an old abbot, not wishing even to hear +of him, and trying to forget his existence. One day a picture of the boy was +sent him, but in looking at it he found so strong a resemblance to his beloved +dead that he fell on the floor unconscious and stiff, as if he had received a +blow from a hammer. . . . Now age and prayer have helped to soften his deep +grief, for yesterday the good Father Cornille told me that Monseigneur had just +decided to send for his son to come to him.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, having finished her rose, so fresh and natural that perfume seemed +to be exhaled from it, looked again through the window into the sunny garden, +and, as if in a reverie, she said in a low voice: “The son of +Monseigneur!” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine continued her story. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that the young man is handsome as a god, and his father wished +him to be educated for the priesthood. But the old abbot would not consent to +that, saying that the youth had not the slightest inclination in that +direction. And then, to crown all, his wealth, it is said, is enormous. Two +million pounds sterling! Yes, indeed! His mother left him a tenth of that sum, +which was invested in land in Paris, where the increase in the price of real +estate has been so great, that to-day it represents fifty millions of francs. +In short, rich as a king!” +</p> + +<p> +“Rich as a king, beautiful as a god!” repeated Angelique +unconsciously, in her dreamy voice. +</p> + +<p> +And with one hand she mechanically took from the frame a bobbin wound with gold +thread, in order to make the open-work centre of one of the large lilies. After +having loosened the end from the point of the reel, she fastened it with a +double stitch of silk to the edge of the vellum which was to give a thickness +to the embroidery. Then, continuing her work, she said again, without finishing +her thought, which seemed lost in the vagueness of its desire, “Oh! as +for me, what I would like, that which I would like above all +else——” +</p> + +<p> +The silence fell again, deep and profound, broken only by the dull sound of +chanting which came from the church. Hubert arranged his design by repassing +with a little brush all the perforated lines of the drawing, and thus the +ornamentation of the cope appeared in white on the red silk. It was he who +first resumed speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! those ancient days were magnificent! Noblemen then wore costumes +weighted with embroidery. At Lyons, material was sometimes sold for as much as +six hundred francs an ell. One ought to read the by-laws and regulations of the +Guild of Master Workmen, where it is laid down that ‘The embroiderers of +the King have always the right to summon, by armed force if necessary, the +workmen of other masters.’ . . . And then we had coats of arms, too! +Azure, a fesse engrailed or, between three fleurs-de-lys of the same, two of +them being near the top and the third in the point. Ah! it was indeed beautiful +in the days of long ago!” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped a moment, tapping the frame with his fingers to shake off the dust. +Then he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“At Beaumont they still have a legend about the Hautecœurs, which my +mother often related to me when I was a child. . . . A frightful plague ravaged +the town, and half of the inhabitants had already fallen victims to it, when +Jean V., he who had rebuilt the fortress, perceived that God had given him the +power to contend against the scourge. Then he went on foot to the houses of the +sick, fell on his knees, kissed them, and as soon as his lips had touched them, +while he said, ‘If God is willing, I wish it,’ the sufferers were +healed. And lo! that is why these words have remained the device of the +Hautecœurs, who all have since that day been able to cure the plague. . . . +Ah! what a proud race of men! A noble dynasty! Monseigneur himself is called +Jean XII., and the first name of his son must also be followed by a number, like +that of a prince.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. Each one of his words lulled and prolonged the reverie of +Angelique. She continued, in a half-singing tone: “Oh! what I wish for +myself! That which I would like above all else——” +</p> + +<p> +Holding the bobbin, without touching the thread, she twisted the gold by moving +it from left to right alternately on the vellum, fastening it at each turn with +a stitch in silk. Little by little the great golden lily blossomed out. +</p> + +<p> +Soon she continued: “Yes, what I would like above all would be to marry a +prince—a prince whom I had never seen; who would come towards sunset, +just before the waning daylight, and would take me by the hand and lead me to +his palace. And I should wish him to be very handsome, as well as very rich! +Yes, the most beautiful and the wealthiest man that had ever been seen on the +earth! He should have superb horses that I could hear neighing under my +windows, and jewels which he would pour in streams into my lap, and gold that +would fall from my hands in a deluge when I opened them. And what I wish still +further is, that this prince of mine should love me to distraction, so that I +might also love him desperately. We would then remain very young, very good, +and very noble, for ever!” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, leaving his work, had approached her smilingly; whilst Hubertine, in a +friendly way, shook her finger at the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a vain little creature! Ah! ambitious child, you are quite +incorrigible. Now, you are quite beside yourself with your need of being a +queen. At all events such a dream is much better than to steal sugar and to be +impertinent. But really, you must not indulge in such fancies. It is the Evil +One who prompts them, and it is pride that speaks, as well as passion.” +</p> + +<p> +Gay and candid, Angelique looked her in the face as she said: “But +mother, mother mine, what are you saying? Is it, then, a sin to love that which +is rich and beautiful? I love it because it is rich and beautiful, and so +cheers my heart and soul. A beautiful object brightens everything that is near +it, and helps one to live, as the sun does. You know very well that I am not +selfish. Money? Oh! you would see what a good use I would make of it, if only I +had it in abundance! I would rain it over the town; it should be scattered +among the miserable. Think what a blessing it would be to have no more poverty! +In the first place, as for you and my father, I would give you everything. You +should be dressed in robes and garments of brocades, like the lords and ladies +of the olden time.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It is ridiculous,” +she said. “But, my dear child, you must remember that you are poor, and +that you have not a penny for your marriage-portion. How can you, then, for a +moment dream of a prince? Are you, then, so desirous to marry a prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should not I wish to marry such a man?” And she looked quite +amazed, as she continued: “Marry him? Of course I would do so. Since he +would have plenty of money, what difference would it make if I had none? I +should owe everything to him, and on that very account I should love him all +the more deeply.” +</p> + +<p> +This victorious reasoning enchanted Hubert, who seemed carried above the earth +by Angelique’s enthusiasm. He would willingly have accompanied her on the +wings of a cloud to the regions of fancy. +</p> + +<p> +“She is right,” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +But his wife glanced at him reprovingly. She became quite stern. +</p> + +<p> +“My child, you will think differently later on, when you know life +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Life?—but I know it already.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is it possible for you to know it? You are too young; you are +ignorant of evil. Yet evil exists and is very powerful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Evil—evil?” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique repeated the word very slowly, as if to penetrate its meaning. And in +her pure eyes was a look of innocent surprise. Evil? She knew all about it, for +she had read of it in the “Golden Legend.” Was not evil Satan +himself? And had not she seen how, although he constantly reappeared, he was +always overthrown? After every battle he remained crushed to earth, thoroughly +conquered, and in a most pitiable state. +</p> + +<p> +“Evil? Ah, mother mine, if you knew how little I fear it! It is only +necessary once to conquer it and afterwards life is all happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine appeared troubled and looked anxious. +</p> + +<p> +“You will make me almost regret having brought you up in this house, +alone with us two, and away from the world as it were. I am really afraid that +some day we shall regret having kept you in such complete ignorance of the +realities of life. What Paradise are you looking for? What is your idea of the +world?” +</p> + +<p> +A look of hope brightened the face of the young girl, while, bending forward, +she still moved the bobbin back and forth with a continuous, even motion. +</p> + +<p> +“You then really think, mother, that I am very foolish, do you not? This +world is full of brave people. When one is honest and industrious, one is +always rewarded. I know also that there are some bad people, but they do not +count. We do not associate with them, and they are soon punished for their +misdeeds. And then, you see, as for the world, it produces on me, from a +distance, the effect of a great garden; yes, of an immense park, all filled +with flowers and with sunshine. It is such a blessing to live, and life is so +sweet that it cannot be bad.” +</p> + +<p> +She grew excited, as if intoxicated by the brightness of the silks and the gold +threads she manipulated so well with her skilful fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Happiness is a very simple thing. We are happy, are we not? All three of +us? And why? Simply because we love each other. Then, after all, it is no more +difficult than that; it is only necessary to love and to be loved. So, you see, +when the one I expect really comes, we shall recognise each other immediately. +It is true I have not yet seen him, but I know exactly what he ought to be. He +will enter here and will say: ‘I have come in search of you.’ And I +shall reply: ‘I expected you, and will go with you.’ He will take +me with him, and our future will be at once decided upon. He will go into a +palace, where all the furniture will be of gold, encrusted in diamonds. Oh, it +is all very simple!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are crazy; so do not talk any more,” interrupted Hubertine, +coldly. +</p> + +<p> +And seeing that the young girl was still excited, and ready to continue to +indulge her fancies, she continued to reprove her. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you to say no more, for you absolutely make me tremble. Unhappy +child! When we really marry you to some poor mortal you will be crushed, as you +fall to earth from these heights of the imagination. Happiness, for the greater +part of the world, consists in humility and obedience.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique continued to smile with an almost obstinate tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect him, and he will come.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she is right,” exclaimed Hubert, again carried away by her +enthusiasm. “Why need you scold her? She is certainly pretty, and dainty +enough for a king. Stranger things than that have happened, and who knows what +may come?” +</p> + +<p> +Sadly Hubertine looked at him with her calm eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not encourage her to do wrong, my dear. You know, better than anyone, +what it costs to follow too much the impulses of one’s heart.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned deadly pale, and great tears came to the edge of his eyelids. She +immediately repented of having reproved him, and rose to offer him her hands. +But gently disengaging himself, he said, stammeringly: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, my dear; I was wrong. Angelique, do you understand me? You must +always listen to your mother. She alone is wise, and we are both of us very +foolish. I am wrong; yes, I acknowledge it.” +</p> + +<p> +Too disturbed to sit down, leaving the cope upon which he had been working, he +occupied himself in pasting a banner that was finished, although still in its +frame. After having taken the pot of Flemish glue from the chest of drawers, he +moistened with a brush the underside of the material, to make the embroidery +firmer. His lips still trembled, and he remained quiet. +</p> + +<p> +But if Angelique, in her obedience, was also still, she allowed her thoughts to +follow their course, and her fancies mounted higher and still higher. She +showed it in every feature—in her mouth, that ecstasy had half opened, as +well as in her eyes, where the infinite depth of her visions seemed reflected. +Now, this dream of a poor girl, she wove it into the golden embroidery. It was +for this unknown hero that, little by little, there seemed to grow on the white +satin the beautiful great lilies, and the roses, and the monogram of the +Blessed Virgin. The stems of the lilies had all the gracious pointings of a jet +of light, whilst the long slender leaves, made of spangles, each one being +sewed on with gold twist, fell in a shower of stars. In the centre, the +initials of Mary were like the dazzling of a relief in massive gold, a +marvellous blending of lacework and of embossing, or goffering, which burnt +like the glory of a tabernacle in the mystic fire of its rays. And the roses of +delicately-coloured silks seemed real, and the whole chasuble was resplendent +in its whiteness of satin, which appeared covered almost miraculously with its +golden blossoms. +</p> + +<p> +After a long silence, Angelique, whose cheeks were flushed by the blood which +mounted into them from her excitement, raised her head, and, looking at +Hubertine, said again, a little maliciously: +</p> + +<p> +“I expect him, and he will come.” +</p> + +<p> +It was absurd for her thus to give loose reins to her imagination. But she was +willful. She was convinced in her own mind that everything would come to pass, +eventually, as she wished it might. Nothing could weaken her happy conviction. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother,” she added, “why do you not believe me, since I +assure you it must be as I say?” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders, and concluded the best thing for her to do +was to tease her. +</p> + +<p> +“But I thought, my child, that you never intended being married. Your +saints, who seem to have turned your head, they led single lives. Rather than +do otherwise they converted their lovers, ran away from their homes, and were +put to death.” +</p> + +<p> +The young girl listened and was confused. But soon she laughed merrily. Her +perfect health, and all her love of life, rang out in this sonorous gaiety. +“The histories of the saints! But that was ages ago! Times have entirely +changed since then. God having so completely triumphed, no longer demands that +anyone should die for Him.” +</p> + +<p> +When reading the Legend, it was the marvels which fascinated her, not the +contempt of the world and the desire for death. She added: “Most +certainly I expect to be married; to love and to be loved, and thus be very +happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful, my dear,” said Hubertine, continuing to tease her. +“You will make your guardian angel, Saint Agnes, weep. Do not you know +that she refused the son of the Governor, and preferred to die, that she might +be wedded to Jesus?” +</p> + +<p> +The great clock of the belfry began to strike; numbers of sparrows flew down +from an enormous ivy-plant which framed one of the windows of the apse. In the +workroom, Hubert, still silent, had just hung up the banner, moist from the +glue, that it might dry, on one of the great iron hooks fastened to the wall. +</p> + +<p> +The sun in the course of the morning had lightened up different parts of the +room, and now it shone brightly upon the old tools—the diligent, the +wicker winder, and the brass chandelier—and as its rays fell upon the two +workers, the frame at which they were seated seemed almost on fire, with its +bands polished by use, and with the various objects placed upon it, the reels +of gold cord, the spangles, and the bobbins of silk. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in this soft, charming air of spring, Angelique looked at the beautiful +symbolic lily she had just finished. Opening wide her ingenuous eyes, she +replied, with an air of confiding happiness, to Hubertine’s last remark +in regard to the child-martyr, Saint Agnes: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes! But it was Jesus who wished it to be so.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +Notwithstanding her thoroughly cheerful nature, Angelique liked solitude; and +it was to her the greatest of recreations to be alone in her room, morning and +evening. There she gave herself up to her thoughts; there she indulged to the +full scope in her most joyous fancies. Sometimes even during the day, when she +could go there for a moment, she was as happy as if, in full freedom, she had +committed some childish prank. +</p> + +<p> +The chamber was very large, taking in at least half of the upper story, the +other half being the garret. It was whitewashed everywhere; not only the walls +and the beams, but the joists, even to the visible copings of the mansard part +of the roof; and in this bare whiteness, the old oaken furniture seemed almost +as black as ebony. At the time of the decoration of the sleeping-room below, +and the improvements made in the parlour, the ancient furniture, which had been +bought at various epochs, had been carried upstairs. There was a great carved +chest of the Renaissance period, a table and chairs which dated from the reign +of Louis XIII., an enormous bedstead, style Louis XIV., and a very handsome +wardrobe, Louis XV. In the middle of these venerable old things a white +porcelain stove, and the little toilet-table, covered with a pretty oilcloth, +seemed out of place and to mar the dull harmony. Curtained with an +old-fashioned rose-coloured chintz, on which were bouquets of heather, so faded +that the colour had become a scarcely perceptible pink, the enormous bedstead +preserved above all the majesty of its great age. +</p> + +<p> +But what pleased Angelique more than anything else was the little balcony on +which the window opened. Of the two original windows, one of them, that at the +left, had been closed by simply fastening it with nails, and the balcony, which +formerly extended across the front of the building, was now only before the +window at the right. As the lower beams were still strong, a new floor had been +made, and above it an iron railing was firmly attached in place of the old +worm-eaten wooden balustrade. This made a charming little corner, a quiet nook +under the gable point, the leaden laths of which had been renewed at the +beginning of the century. By bending over a little, the whole garden-front of +the house could be seen in a very dilapidated state, with its sub-basement of +little cut stones, its panels ornamented with imitation bricks, and its large +bay window, which to-day had been made somewhat smaller. The roof of the great +porch of the kitchen-door was covered with zinc. And above, the interduces of +the top, which projected three feet or more, were strengthened by large, +upright pieces of wood, the ends of which rested on the string-course of the +first floor. All this gave to the balcony an appearance of being in a perfect +vegetation of timber, as if in the midst of a forest of old wood, which was +green with wallflowers and moss. +</p> + +<p> +Since she occupied the chamber, Angelique had spent many hours there, leaning +over the balustrade and simply looking. At first, directly under her was the +garden, darkened by the eternal shade of the evergreen box-trees; in the corner +nearest the church, a cluster of small lilac-bushes surrounded an old granite +bench; while in the opposite corner, half hidden by a beautiful ivy which +covered the whole wall at the end as if with a mantle, was a little door +opening upon the Clos-Marie, a vast, uncultivated field. This Clos-Marie was +the old orchard of the monks. A rivulet of purest spring-water crossed it, the +Chevrotte, where the women who occupied the houses in the neighbourhood had the +privilege of washing their linen; certain poor people sheltered themselves in +the ruins of an old tumble-down mill; and no other persons inhabited this +field, which was connected with the Rue Magloire simply by the narrow lane of +the Guerdaches, which passed between the high walls of the Bishop’s +Palace and those of the Hotel Voincourt. In summer, the centenarian elms of the +two parks barred with their green-leaved tops the straight, limited horizon +which in the centre was cut off by the gigantic brow of the Cathedral. Thus +shut in on all sides, the Clos-Marie slept in the quiet peace of its +abandonment, overrun with weeds and wild grass, planted with poplars and +willows sown by the wind. Among the great pebbles the Chevrotte leaped, singing +as it went, and making a continuous music as if of crystal. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique was never weary of this out-of-the-way nook. Yet for seven years she +had seen there each morning only what she had looked at on the previous +evening. The trees in the little park of the Hotel Voincourt, whose front was +on the Grand Rue, were so tufted and bushy that it was only in the winter she +could occasionally catch a glimpse of the daughter of the Countess, +Mademoiselle Claire, a young girl of her own age. +</p> + +<p> +In the garden of the Bishop was a still more dense thickness of branches, and +she had often tried in vain to distinguish there the violet-coloured cassock of +Monseigneur; and the old gate, with its Venetian slats above and at the sides, +must have been fastened up for a very long time, for she never remembered to +have seen it opened, not even for a gardener to pass through. Besides the +washerwomen in the Clos, she always saw the same poor, ragged little children +playing or sleeping in the grass. +</p> + +<p> +The spring this year was unusually mild. She was just sixteen years of age, and +until now she had been glad to welcome with her eyes alone the growing green +again of the Clos-Marie under the April sunshine. The shooting out of the +tender leaves, the transparency of the warm evenings, and all the reviving +odours of the earth had simply amused her heretofore. But this year, at the +first bud, her heart seemed to beat more quickly. As the grass grew higher and +the wind brought to her all the strong perfumes of the fresh verdure, there was +in her whole being an increasing agitation. Sudden inexplicable pain would at +times seize her throat and almost choke her. One evening she threw herself, +weeping, into Hubertine’s arms, having no cause whatever for grief, but, +on the contrary, overwhelmed with so great, unknown a happiness, that her heart +was too full for restraint. In the night her dreams were delightful. Shadows +seemed to pass before her, and she fell into such an ecstatic state that on +awakening she did not dare to recall them, so confused was she by the angelic +visions of bliss. Sometimes, in the middle of her great bed, she would rouse +herself suddenly, her two hands joined and pressed against her breast as if a +heavy burden were weighing her down and almost suffocating her. She would then +jump up, rush across the room in her bare feet, and, opening the window wide, +would stand there, trembling slightly, until at last the pure fresh air calmed +her. She was continually surprised at this great change in herself, as if the +knowledge of joys and griefs hitherto unknown had been revealed to her in the +enchantment of dreams, and that her eyes had been opened to natural beauties +which surrounded her. +</p> + +<p> +What—was it really true that the unseen lilacs and laburnums of the +Bishop’s garden had so sweet an odour that she could no longer breathe it +without a flush of colour mounting to her cheeks? Never before had she +perceived this warmth of perfume which now touched her as if with a living +breath. +</p> + +<p> +And again, why had she never remarked in preceding years a great Japanese +Paulownia in blossom, which looked like an immense violet bouquet as it +appeared between two elm-trees in the garden of the Voincourts? This year, as +soon as she looked at it, her eyes grew moist, so much was she affected by the +delicate tints of the pale purple flowers. She also fancied that the Chevrotte +had never chattered so gaily over the pebbles among the willows on its banks. +The river certainly talked; she listened to its vague words, constantly +repeated, which filled her heart with trouble. Was it, then, no longer the +field of other days, that everything in it so astonished her and affected her +senses in so unusual a way? Or, rather, was not she herself so changed that, +for the first time, she appreciated the beauty of the coming into life of trees +and plants? +</p> + +<p> +But the Cathedral at her right, the enormous mass which obstructed the sky, +surprised her yet more. Each morning she seemed to see it for the first time; +she made constant discoveries in it, and was delighted to think that these old +stones lived and had lived like herself. She did not reason at all on the +subject, she had very little knowledge, but she gave herself up to the mystic +flight of the giant, whose coming into existence had demanded three centuries +of time, and where were placed one above the other the faith and the belief of +generations. At the foundation, it was kneeling as if crushed by prayer, with +the Romanesque chapels of the nave, and with the round arched windows, plain, +unornamented, except by slender columns under the archivolts. Then it seemed to +rise, lifting its face and hands towards heaven, with the pointed windows of +its nave, built eighty years later; high, delicate windows, divided by mullions +on which were broken bows and roses. Then again it sprung from the earth as if +in ecstasy, erect, with the piers and flying buttresses of the choir finished +and ornamented two centuries after in the fullest flamboyant Gothic, charged +with its bell-turrets, spires, and pinnacles. A balustrade had been added, +ornamented with trefoils, bordering the terrace on the chapels of the apse. +Gargoyles at the foot of the flying buttresses carried off the water from the +roofs. The top was also decorated with flowery emblems. The whole edifice +seemed to burst into blossom in proportion as it approached the sky in a +continual upward flight, as if, relieved at being delivered from the ancient +sacerdotal terror, it was about to lose itself in the bosom of a God of pardon +and of love. It seemed to have a physical sensation which permeated it, made it +light and happy, like a sacred hymn it had just heard sung, very pure and holy, +as it passed into the upper air. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, the Cathedral was alive. Hundreds of swallows had constructed their +nests under the borders of trefoil, and even in the hollows of the bell-turrets +and the pinnacles, and they were continually brushing their wings against the +flying buttresses and the piers which they inhabited. There were also the +wood-pigeons of the elms in the Bishop’s garden, who held themselves up +proudly on the borders of the terraces, going slowly, as if walking merely to +show themselves off. Sometimes, half lost in the blue sky, looking scarcely +larger than a fly, a crow alighted on the point of a spire to smooth its wings. +The old stones themselves were animated by the quiet working of the roots of a +whole flora of plants, the lichens and the grasses, which pushed themselves +through the openings in the walls. On very stormy days the entire apse seemed +to awake and to grumble under the noise of the rain as it beat against the +leaden tiles of the roof, running off by the gutters of the cornices and +rolling from story to story with the clamour of an overflowing torrent. Even +the terrible winds of October and of March gave to it a soul, a double voice of +anger and of supplication, as they whistled through its forests of gables and +arcades of roseate ornaments and of little columns. The sun also filled it with +life from the changing play of its rays; from the early morning, which +rejuvenated it with a delicate gaiety, even to the evening, when, under the +slightly lengthened-out shadows, it basked in the unknown. +</p> + +<p> +And it had its interior existence. The ceremonies with which it was ever +vibrating, the constant swinging of its bells, the music of the organ, and the +chanting of the priests, all these were like the pulsation of its veins. There +was always a living murmur in it: half-lost sounds, like the faint echo of a +Low Mass; the rustling of the kneeling penitents, a slight, scarcely +perceptible shivering, nothing but the devout ardour of a prayer said without +words and with closed lips. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as the days grew longer, Angelique passed more and more time in the +morning and evening with her elbows on the balustrade of the balcony, side by +side with her great friend, the Cathedral. She loved it the best at night, when +she saw the enormous mass detach itself like a huge block on the starry skies. +The form of the building was lost. It was with difficulty that she could even +distinguish the flying buttresses, which were thrown like bridges into the +empty space. It was, nevertheless, awake in the darkness, filled with a dream +of seven centuries, made grand by the multitudes who had hoped or despaired +before its altars. It was a continual watch, coming from the infinite of the +past, going to the eternity of the future; the mysterious and terrifying +wakefulness of a house where God Himself never sleeps. And in the dark, +motionless, living mass, her looks were sure to seek the window of a chapel of +the choir, on the level of the bushes of the Clos-Marie, the only one which was +lighted up, and which seemed like an eye which was kept open all the night. +Behind it, at the corner of a pillar, was an ever-burning altar-lamp. In fact, +it was the same chapel which the abbots of old had given to Jean V. +d’Hautecœur, and to his descendants, with the right of being buried +there, in return for their liberality. Dedicated to Saint George, it had a +stained-glass window of the twelfth century, on which was painted the legend of +the saint. From the moment of the coming on of twilight, this historic +representation came out from the shade, lighted up as if it were an apparition, +and that was why Angelique was fascinated, and loved this particular point, as +she gazed at it with her dreamy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The background of the window was blue and the edges red. Upon this sombre +richness of colouring, the personages, whose flying draperies allowed their +limbs to be seen, stood out in relief in clear light on the glass. Three scenes +of the Legend, placed one above the other, filled the space quite to the upper +arch. At the bottom, the daughter of the king, dressed in costly royal robes, +on her way from the city to be eaten by the dreadful monster, meets Saint +George near the pond, from which the head of the dragon already appears; and a +streamer of silk bears these words: “Good Knight, do not run any danger +for me, as you can neither help me nor deliver me, but will have to perish with +me.” Then in the middle the combat takes place, and the saint, on +horseback, cuts the beast through and through. This is explained by the +following words: “George wielded so well his lance that he wounded the +enemy and threw him upon the earth.” At last, at the top, the Princess is +seen leading back into the city the conquered dragon: “George said, +‘Tie your scarf around his neck, and do not be afraid of anything, oh +beautiful maiden, for when you have done so he will follow you like a +well-trained dog.’” +</p> + +<p> +When the window was new it must have been surmounted in the middle of the arch +by an ornamental design. But later, when the chapel belonged to the +Hautecœurs, they replaced the original work by their family coat of arms. And +that was why, in the obscure nights, armorial bearings of a more recent date +shown out above the painted legend. They were the old family arms of +Hautecœur, quartered with the well-known shield of Jerusalem; the latter being +argent, a cross potencée, or, between four crosselettes of the same; and those +of the family, azure, a castle, or, on it a shield, sable, charged with a human +heart, argent, the whole between three fleurs-de-lys, or; the shield was +supported on the dexter and sinister sides by two wyverns, or; and surmounted +by the silver helmet with its blue feathers, embossed in gold, placed +frontwise, and closed by eleven bars, which belongs only to Dukes, Marshals of +France, titled Lords and heads of Sovereign Corporations. And for motto were +these words: “<i>Si Dieu volt, ie vueil</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, from having seen him piercing the monster with his lance, +whilst the king’s daughter raised her clasped hands in supplication, +Angelique became enamoured of Saint George. He was her hero. At the distance +where she was she could not well distinguish the figures, and she looked at +them as if in the aggrandisement of a dream; the young girl was slight, was a +blonde, and, in short, had a face not unlike her own, while the saint was frank +and noble looking, with the beauty of an archangel. It was as if she herself +had just been saved, and she could have kissed his hands with gratitude. And to +this adventure, of which she dreamed confusedly, of a meeting on the border of +a lake and of being rescued from a great danger by a young man more beautiful +than the day, was added the recollection of her excursion to the Château of +Hautecœur, and a calling up to view of the feudal donjon, in its original +state, peopled with the noble lords of olden times. +</p> + +<p> +The arms glistened like the stars on summer nights; she knew them well, she +read them easily, with their sonorous words, for she was so in the habit of +embroidering heraldic symbols. There was Jean V., who stopped from door to door +in the town ravaged by the plague, and went in to kiss the lips of the dying, +and cured them by saying, “<i>Si Dieu volt, ie vueil</i>.” And +Felician III, who, forewarned that a severe illness prevented Philippe le Bel +from going to Palestine, went there in his place, barefooted and holding a +candle in his hand, and for that he had the right of quartering the arms of +Jerusalem with his own. Other and yet other histories came to her mind, +especially those of the ladies of Hautecœur, the “happy dead,” as +they were called in the Legend. In that family the women die young, in the +midst of some great happiness. Sometimes two or three generations would be +spared, then suddenly Death would appear, smiling, as with gentle hands he +carried away the daughter or the wife of a Hautecœur, the oldest of them being +scarcely twenty years of age, at the moment when they were at the height of +earthly love and bliss. For instance, Laurette, daughter of Raoul I., on the +evening of her betrothal to her cousin Richard, who lived in the castle, having +seated herself at her window in the Tower of David, saw him at his window in +the Tower of Charlemagne, and, thinking she heard him call her, as at that +moment a ray of moonlight seemed to throw a bridge between them, she walked +toward him. But when in the middle she made in her haste a false step and +overpassed the ray, she fell, and was crushed at the foot of the tower. So +since that day, each night when the moon is bright and clear, she can be seen +walking in the air around the Château, which is bathed in white by the silent +touch of her immense robe. Then Balbine, wife of Hervé VII., thought for six +months that her husband had been killed in the wars. But, unwilling to give up +all hope, she watched for him daily from the top of the donjon, and when at +last she saw him one morning on the highway, returning to his home, she ran +down quickly to meet him, but was so overcome with joy, that she fell dead at +the entrance of the castle. Even at this day, notwithstanding the ruins, as +soon as twilight falls, it is said she still descends the steps, runs from +story to story, glides through the corridors and the rooms, and passes like a +phantom through the gaping windows which open into the desert void. All return. +Isabeau, Gudule, Vonne, Austreberthe, all these “happy dead,” loved +by the stern messenger, who spared them from the vicissitudes of life by taking +them suddenly when, in early youth, they thought only of happiness. On certain +nights this white-robed band fill the house as if with a flight of doves. To +their number had lately been added the mother of the son of Monseigneur, who +was found lifeless on the floor by the cradle of her infant, where, although +ill, she dragged herself to die, in the fullness of her delight at embracing +him. These had haunted the imagination of Angelique; she spoke of them as if +they were facts of recent occurrence, which might have happened the day before. +She had read the names of Laurette and of Balbine on old memorial tablets let +into the walls of the chapel. Then why should not she also die young and very +happy, as they had? The armouries would glisten as now, the saint would come +down from his place in the stained-glass window, and she would be carried away +to heaven on the sweet breath of a kiss. Why not? +</p> + +<p> +The “Golden Legend” had taught her this: Was not it true that the +miracle is really the common law, and follows the natural course of events? It +exists, is active, works with an extreme facility on every occasion, multiplies +itself, spreads itself out, overflows even uselessly, as if for the pleasure of +contradicting the self-evident rules of Nature. Its power seems to be on the +same plane as that of the Creator. Albrigan, King of Edeese, writes to Jesus, +who replies to him. Ignatius receives letters from the Blessed Virgin. In all +places the Mother and the Son appear, disguise themselves, and talk with an air +of smiling good-nature. When Stephen meets them they are very familiar with +him. All the virgins are wed to Jesus, and the martyrs mount to heaven, where +they are to be united to Mary. And as for the angels and saints, they are the +ordinary companions of men. They come, they go, they pass through walls, they +appear in dreams, they speak from the height of clouds, they assist at births +and deaths, they support those who are tortured, they deliver those who are in +prison, and they go on dangerous missions. Following in their footsteps is an +inexhaustible efflorescence of prodigies. Sylvester binds the mouth of a dragon +with a thread. The earth rises to make a seat for Hilary, whose companions +wished to humiliate him. A precious stone falls into the chalice of Saint Loup. +A tree crushes the enemies of Saint Martin; a dog lets loose a hare, and a +great fire ceases to burn at his command. Mary the Egyptian walks upon the sea; +honey-bees fly from the mouth of Ambrosius at his birth. Continually saints +cure diseases of the eye, withered limbs, paralysis, leprosy, and especially +the plague. There is no disease that resists the sign of the Cross. In a crowd, +the suffering and the feeble are placed together, that they may be cured in a +mass, as if by a thunderbolt. Death itself is conquered, and resurrections are +so frequent that they become quite an everyday affair. And when the saints +themselves are dead the wonders do not cease, but are redoubled, and are like +perennial flowers which spring from their tombs. It is said that from the head +and the feet of Nicholas flowed two fountains of oil which cured every ill. +When the tomb of Saint Cecilia was opened an odour of roses came up from her +coffin. That of Dorothea was filled with manna. All the bones of virgins and of +martyrs performed marvels: they confounded liars, they forced robbers to give +back their stolen goods, they granted the prayers of childless wives, they +brought the dying back to life. Nothing was impossible for them; in fact the +Invisible reigned, and the only law was the caprice of the supernatural. In the +temples the sorcerers mix themselves up with the popular idea, and scythes cut +the grass without being held, brass serpents move, and one hears bronze statues +laugh and wolves sing. Immediately the saints reply and overwhelm them. The +Host is changed into living food, sacred Christian images shed drops of blood, +sticks set upright in the ground blossom into flower, springs of pure water +appear in dry places, warm loaves of bread multiply themselves at the feet of +the needy, a tree bows down before some holy person, and so on. Then, again, +decapitated heads speak, broken chalices mend themselves, the rain turns aside +from a church to submerge a neighbouring palace, the robes of hermits never +wear out, but renew themselves at each season like the skin of a beast. In +Armenia at one time the persecutors threw into the sea the leaden coffins of +five martyrs, and the one containing the body of Saint Bartholomew the Apostle +took the lead, and the four others accompanied it as a guard of honour. So, all +together, in regular order, like a fine squadron, they floated slowly along, +urged by the breeze, through the whole length of the sea, until they reached +the shores of Sicily. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique was a firm believer in miracles. In her ignorance she lived +surrounded by wonders. The rising of the stars, or the opening of a violet; +each fact was a surprise to her. It would have appeared to her simply +ridiculous to have imagined the world so mechanical as to be governed by fixed +laws. There were so many things far beyond her comprehension, she felt herself +so weak and helpless in the midst of forces whose power it was impossible to +measure, that she would not even have suspected they existed, had it not been +for the great questioning breath which at times passed over her face. So, +trusting, and as thoroughly Christian as if belonging to the primitive Church, +spiritually fed by her readings from the “Golden Legend,” she gave +herself up entirely into the hands of God, with only the spot of original sin +to be cleansed from her soul. She had no liberty of action or freedom of will; +God alone could secure her salvation by giving her the gift of His grace. That +grace had been already manifested by bringing her to the hospitable roof of the +Huberts, where, under the shadow of the Cathedral, she could lead a life of +submission, of purity, and of faith. She often heard within her soul the +grumblings of heredity tendency to evil, and asked herself what would have +become of her had she been left on her native soil. Without doubt she would +have been bad; while here, in this blessed corner of the earth, she had grown +up free from temptation, strong and healthy. Was it not grace that had given +her this home, where she was surrounded by such charming histories she had so +easily committed to memory, where she had learned such perfect faith in the +present and hope in the future, and where the invisible and unknown, or the +miracles of ages, seemed natural to her, and quite on a level with her daily +life? It had armed her for all combats, as heretofore it had armed the martyrs. +And she created an imaginary experience for herself almost unknowingly. It was, +in fact, the inevitable result of a mind overcharged and excited by fables; it +was increased by her ignorance of the life within and about her, as well as +from her loneliness. She had not had many companions, so all desires went from +her only to return to her. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes she was in such a peculiar state that she would put her hands over +her face, as if doubting her own identity. Was she herself only an illusion, +and would she suddenly disappear some day and vanish into nothingness? Who +would tell her the truth? +</p> + +<p> +One evening in the following May, on this same balcony where she had spent so +much time in vague dreams, she suddenly broke into tears. She was not +low-spirited in the least, but it seemed to her as if her anxiety arose from a +vain expectation of a visit from someone. Yet who was there to come? It was +very dark; the Clos-Marie marked itself out like a great black spot under the +sky filled with stars, and she could but vaguely distinguish the heavy masses +of the old elm-trees of the Bishop’s garden, and of the park of the Hotel +Voincourt. Alone the window of the chapel sent out a little light. If no one +were to come, why did her heart beat so rapidly? It was nothing new, this +feeling of waiting, or of hope, but it was dated from the long ago, from her +early youth; it was like a desire, a looking forward for something which had +grown with her growth, and ended in this feverish anxiety of her seventeen +years. Nothing would have surprised her, as for weeks she had heard the sound +of voices in this mysterious corner, peopled by her imagination. The +“Golden Legend” had left there its supernatural world of saints and +martyrs, and the miracle was all ready to appear there. She understood well +that everything was animated, that the voices came from objects hitherto +silent; that the leaves of the trees, the waters of the Chevrotte, and the +stones of the Cathedral spoke to her. But what was it that all these +whisperings from the Invisible wished to explain? What did these unknown forces +above and around her wish to do with her as they floated in the air? She kept +her eyes fixed upon the darkness, as if she were at an appointed meeting with +she knew not whom, and she waited, still waited, until she was overcome with +sleep, whilst it seemed to her as if some supernatural power were deciding her +destiny, irrespective of her will or wish. +</p> + +<p> +For four evenings Angelique was nervous, and wept a great deal in the darkness. +She remained in her usual place and was patient. The atmosphere seemed to +envelope her, and as it increased in density it oppressed her more and more, as +if the horizon itself had become smaller and was shutting her in. Everything +weighed upon her heart. Now there was a dull murmuring of voices in her brain; +yet she was not able to hear them clearly, or to distinguish their meaning. It +was as if Nature itself had taken possession of her, and the earth, with the +vast heavens above it, had penetrated into her being. At the least sound her +hands burned and her eyes tried to pierce the darkness. Was the wonderful event +about to take place, the prodigy she awaited? No, there was nothing yet. It was +probably merely the beating of the wings of a night bird. And she listened +again, attentively, until she could distinguish the difference of sound between +the leaves of the elms and the willows. At least twenty times she trembled +violently when a little stone rolled in the rivulet, or a prowling animal +jumped over the wall. She leaned forward; but there was nothing—still +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +At last, after some days, when at night a warmer darkness fell from the sky +where no moon was visible, a change began. She felt it, but it was so slight, +so almost imperceptible, she feared that she might have been mistaken in the +little sound she heard, which seemed unlike the usual noises she knew so well. +She held her breath, as the sound seemed very long in returning. At last it +came again, louder than before, but equally confused. She would have said it +came from a great distance, that it was a scarcely-defined step, and that the +trembling of the air announced the approach of something out of sight and out +of hearing. That which she was expecting came slowly from the invisible slight +movement of what surrounded her. Little by little it disengaged itself from her +dream, like a realisation of the vague longings of her youth. Was it the Saint +George of the chapel window, who had come down from his place and was walking +on the grass in silence towards her? Just then, by chance, the altar-light was +dimmed, so that she could not distinguish the faintest outline of the figures +on the painted glass, but all seemed like a blue cloud of vapoury mist. That +was all she heard or learned at that time of the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +But on the morrow, at the same hour, by a like obscurity, the noise increased +and approached a little nearer. It was certainly the sound of steps, of real +steps, which walked upon the earth. They would stop for a moment, then +recommence here and there, moving up and down, without her being able to say +precisely where they were. Perhaps they came from the garden of the Voincourts, +where some night pedestrian was lingering under the trees. Or it might be, +rather, that they were in the tufted masses of the great lilac-bushes of the +park of the Bishop, whose strong perfume made her almost ill. She might do her +best to try to penetrate the darkness, it was only by her hearing that she was +forewarned of the coming events, aided a little by her sense of smell, as the +perfume of the flowers was increased as if a breath were mingled with it. And +so for several nights the steps resounded under the balcony, and she listened +as they came nearer, until they reached the walls under her feet. There they +stopped, and a long silence followed, until she seemed almost to lose +consciousness in this slow embrace of something of which she was ignorant. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after, she saw one evening the little crescent of the new moon appear +among the stars. But it soon disappeared behind the brow of the Cathedral, like +a bright, living eye that the lid re-covers. She followed it with regret, and +at each nightfall she awaited its appearance, watched its growth, and was +impatient for this torch which would ere long light up the invisible. In fact, +little by little, the Clos-Marie came out from the obscurity, with the ruins of +its old mill, its clusters of trees, and its rapid little river. And then, in +the light, creation continued. That which came from a vision ended in being +embodied. For at first she only perceived that a dim shadow was moving under +the moonlight. What was it, then? A branch moved to and fro by the wind? Or was +it a large bat in constant motion? There were moments when everything +disappeared, and the field slept in so deathly a stillness that she thought her +eyes had deceived her. Soon there was no longer any doubt possible, for a dark +object had certainly just crossed the open space and had glided from one +willow-tree to another. It appeared, then disappeared, without her being able +exactly to define it. +</p> + +<p> +One evening she thought she distinguished the dim outline of two shoulders, and +at once she turned her eyes towards the chapel window. It had a greyish tint, +as if empty, for the moon shining directly upon it had deadened the light +within. At that moment she noticed that the living shadow grew larger, as it +approached continually nearer and nearer, walking in the grass at the side of +the church. In proportion as she realised it was a fact that someone was there, +she was overcome by an indefinable sensation, a nervous feeling that one has on +being looked at by mysterious unseen eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly someone was there under the trees who was regarding her fixedly. She +had on her hands and face, as it were, a physical impression of those long, +ardent, yet timid looks; but she did not withdraw herself from them, because +she knew they were pure, and came from the enchanted world of which she had +read in the “Golden Legend”; and, in the certainty of a promised +happiness, her first anxiety was quickly changed into a delicious tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +One night, suddenly, on the ground whitened by the moon’s rays, the +shadow designed itself plainly and clearly. It was indeed that of a man whom +she could not see, as he was hidden by the willows. As he did not move, she was +able to look for a long time at his shadow. +</p> + +<p> +From that moment Angelique had a secret. Her bare, whitewashed chamber was +filled with it. She remained there for hours lying on her great bed—where +she seemed lost, she was so little—her eyes closed, but not asleep, and +seeing continually before her, in her waking dreams, this motionless shadow +upon the earth. When she re-opened her eyes at dawn, her looks wandered from +the enormous wardrobe to the odd carved chest, from the porcelain stove to the +little toilet-table, as if surprised at not seeing there the mysterious +silhouette, which she could have so easily and precisely traced from memory. In +her sleep she had seen it gliding among the pale heather-blossoms on her +curtains. In her dreams, as in her waking hours, her mind was filled with it. +It was a companion shadow to her own. She had thus a double being, although she +was alone with her fancies. +</p> + +<p> +This secret she confided to no one, not even to Hubertine, to whom, until now, +she had always told even her thoughts. When the latter, surprised at her +gaiety, questioned her, she blushed deeply as she replied that the early spring +had made her very happy. From morning to evening she hummed little snatches of +song, like a bee intoxicated by the heat of the sun’s rays. Never before +had the chasubles she embroidered been so resplendent with silk and gold. The +Huberts smiled as they watched her, thinking simply that this exuberance of +spirits came from her state of perfect health. As the day waned she grew more +excited, she sang at the rising of the moon, and as soon as the hour arrived +she hurried to her balcony, and waited for the shadow to appear. During all the +first quarters of the moon she found it exact at each rendezvous, erect and +silent. But that was all. What was the cause of it? Why was it there? Was it, +indeed, only a shadow? Was not it, perhaps, the saint who had left his window, +or the angel who had formerly loved Saint Cecilia, and who had now come to love +her in her turn? Although she was not vain, these thoughts made her proud, and +were as sweet to her as an invisible caress. Then she grew impatient to know +more, and her watching recommenced. +</p> + +<p> +The moon, at its full, lighted up the Clos-Marie. When it was at its zenith, +the trees, under the white rays which fell straight upon them in perpendicular +lines, cast no more shadows, but were like running fountains of silent +brightness. The whole garden was bathed and filled with a luminous wave as +limpid as crystal, and the brilliancy of it was so penetrating that everything +was clearly seen, even to the fine cutting of the willow-leaves. The slightest +possible trembling of air seemed to wrinkle this lake of rays, sleeping in the +universal peace among the grand elm-trees of the neighbouring garden and the +gigantic brow of the Cathedral. +</p> + +<p> +Two more evenings had passed like this, when, on the third night, as Angelique +was leaning on her elbows and looking out, her heart seemed to receive a sudden +shock. There, in the clear light, she saw him standing before her and looking +at her. His shadow, like that of the trees, had disappeared under his feet, and +he alone was there, distinctly seen. At this distance she saw—as if it +were full day—that he was tall, slight, a blonde, and apparently about +twenty years of age. He resembled either a Saint George or a superb picture of +Christ, with his curly hair, his thin beard, his straight nose, rather large, +and his proudly-smiling black eyes. And she recognised him perfectly; never had +she seen another like him; it was he, her hero, and he was exactly as she +expected to find him. The wonder was at last accomplished; the slow creation of +the invisible had perfected itself in this living apparition, and he came out +from the unknown, from the movement of things, from murmuring voices, from the +action of the night, from all that had enveloped her, until she almost fainted +into unconsciousness. She also saw him as if he were lifted above the earth, so +supernatural appeared to be his coming, whilst the miraculous seemed to +surround him on every side as it floated over the mysterious moon-lake. He had +as his escort the entire people of the Legend—the saints whose staffs +blossomed, the virgins whose wounds shed milk—and the stars seemed to +pale before this white group of perfection. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique continued to look at him. He raised his arms, and held them out, wide +open. She was not at all afraid, but smiled sweetly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +It was a great affair for the whole household when, every three months, +Hubertine prepared the “lye” for the wash. A woman was hired to aid +them, the Mother Gabet, as she was called, and for four days all embroidery was +laid aside, while Angelique took her part in the unusual work, making of it a +perfect amusement, as she soaped and rinsed the clothes in the clean water of +the Chevrotte. The linen when taken from the ashes was wheeled to the +Clos-Marie, through the little gate of communication in the garden. There the +days were spent in the open air and the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +“I will do the washing this time, mother, for it is the greatest of +delights to me.” +</p> + +<p> +And gaily laughing, with her sleeves drawn up above her elbows, flourishing the +beetle, Angelique struck the clothes most heartily in the pleasure of such +healthy exercise. It was hard work, but she thoroughly enjoyed it, and only +stopped occasionally to say a few words or to show her shiny face covered with +foam. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, mother! This makes my arms strong. It does me a world of +good.” +</p> + +<p> +The Chevrotte crossed the field diagonally, at first drowsily, then its stream +became very rapid as it was thrown in great bubbles over a pebbly descent. It +came from the garden of the Bishop, through a species of floodgate left at the +foot of the wall, and at the other end it disappeared under an arched vault at +the corner of the Hotel Voincourt, where it was swallowed up in the earth, to +reappear two hundred yards farther on, as it passed along the whole length of +the Rue Basse to the Ligneul, into which it emptied itself. Therefore it was +very necessary to watch the linen constantly, for, run as fast as possible, +every piece that was once let go was almost inevitably lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, wait, wait a little! I will put this heavy stone on the napkins. +We shall then see if the river can carry them away. The little thief!” +</p> + +<p> +She placed the stone firmly, then returned to draw another from the old, +tumble-down mill, enchanted to move about and to fatigue herself; and, although +she severely bruised her finger, she merely moistened it a little, saying, +“Oh! that is nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +During the day the poor people who sheltered themselves in the ruins went out +to ask for charity from the passers-by on the highways. So the Clos was quite +deserted. It was a delicious, fresh solitude, with its clusters of pale-green +willows, its high poplar-trees, and especially its verdure, its overflowing of +deep-rooted wild herbs and grasses, so high that they came up to one’s +shoulders. A quivering silence came from the two neighbouring parks, whose +great trees barred the horizon. After three o’clock in the afternoon the +shadow of the Cathedral was lengthened out with a calm sweetness and a perfume +of evaporated incense. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique continued to beat the linen harder still, with all the force of her +well-shaped white arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mother dear! You can have no idea how hungry I shall be this +evening! . . . Ah! you know that you have promised to give me a good +strawberry-cake.” +</p> + +<p> +On the day of the rinsing, Angelique was quite alone. The <i>mère</i> Gabet, +suffering from a sudden, severe attack of sciatica, had not been able to come +as usual, and Hubertine was kept at home by other household cares. +</p> + +<p> +Kneeling in her little box half filled with straw, the young girl took the +pieces one by one, shook them for a long time in the swiftly-rolling stream, +until the water was no longer dimmed, but had become as clear as crystal. She +did not hurry at all, for since the morning she had been tormented by a great +curiosity, having seen, to her astonishment, an old workman in a white blouse, +who was putting up a light scaffolding before the window of the Chapel +Hautecœur. Could it be that they were about to repair the stained-glass panes? +There was, it must be confessed, great need of doing so. Several pieces were +wanting in the figure of Saint George, and in other places, where in the course +of centuries panes that had been broken had been replaced by ordinary glass. +Still, all this was irritating to her. She was so accustomed to the gaps of the +saint who was piercing the dragon with his sword, and of the royal princess as +she led the conquered beast along with her scarf, that she already mourned as +if one had the intention of mutilating them. It was sacrilege to think of +changing such old, venerable things. But when she returned to the field after +her lunch, all her angry feelings passed away immediately; for a second workman +was upon the staging, a young man this time, who also wore a white blouse. And +she recognised him! It was he! Her hero! +</p> + +<p> +Gaily, without any embarrassment, Angelique resumed her place on her knees on +the straw of her box. Then, with her wrists bare, she put her hands in the +deep, clear water, and recommenced shaking the linen back and forth. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, it was he—tall, slight, a blonde, with his fine beard and his hair +curled like that of a god, his complexion as fresh as when she had first seen +him under the white shadow of the moonlight. Since it was he, there was nothing +to be feared for the window; were he to touch it, he would only embellish it. +And it was no disappointment to her whatever to find him in this blouse, a +workman like herself, a painter on glass, no doubt. On the contrary, this fact +made her smile, so absolutely certain was she of the eventual fulfillment of +her dream of royal fortune. Now, it was simply an appearance, a beginning. What +good would it do her to know who he was, from whence he came, or whither he was +going? Some morning he would prove to be that which she expected him to be. A +shower of gold would stream from the roof of the Cathedral, a triumphal march +would break forth in the distant rumblings of the organ, and all would come +true. She did not stay to ask herself how he could always be there, day and +night. Yet it was evident either that he must live in one of the neighbouring +houses, or he must pass by the lane des Guerdaches, which ran by the side of +the Bishop’s park to the Rue Magloire. +</p> + +<p> +Then a charming hour passed by. She bent forward, she rinsed her linen, her +face almost touching the fresh water; but each time she took a different piece +she raised her head, and cast towards the church a look, in which from the +agitation of her heart, was a little good-natured malice. And he, upon the +scaffolding, with an air of being closely occupied in examining the state of +the window, turned towards her, glancing at her sideways, and evidently much +disturbed whenever she surprised him doing so. It was astonishing how quickly +he blushed, how dark red his face became. At the slightest emotion, whether of +anger or interest, all the blood in his veins seemed to mount to his face. He +had flashing eyes, which showed will; yet he was so diffident, that, when he +knew he was being criticised, he was embarrassed as a little child, did not +seem to know what to do with his hands, and stammered out his orders to the old +man who accompanied him. +</p> + +<p> +As for Angelique, that which delighted her most, as she refreshed her arms in +this turbulent water, was to picture him innocent like herself, ignorant of the +world, and with an equally intense desire to have a taste of life. There was no +need of his telling to others who he was, for had not invisible messengers and +unseen lips made known to her that he was to be her own? She looked once more, +just as he was turning his head; and so the minutes passed, and it was +delicious. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she saw that he jumped from the staging, then that he walked backwards +quite a distance through the grass, as if to take a certain position from which +he could examine the window more easily. But she could not help smiling, so +evident was it that he simply wished to approach her. He had made a firm +decision, like a man who risks everything, and now it was touching as well as +comical to see that he remained standing a few steps from her, his back towards +her, not daring to move, fearing that he had been too hasty in coming as far as +he had done. For a moment she thought he would go back again to the +chapel-window as he had come from it, without paying any attention to her. +However, becoming desperate, at last he turned, and as at that moment she was +glancing in his direction, their eyes met, and they remained gazing fixedly at +each other. They were both deeply confused; they lost their self-possession, +and might never have been able to regain it, had not a dramatic incident +aroused them. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear! Oh dear!” exclaimed the young girl, in distress. +</p> + +<p> +In her excitement, a dressing-sacque, which she had been rinsing unconsciously, +had just escaped her, and the stream was fast bearing it away. Yet another +minute and it would disappear round the corner of the wall of the Voincourt +park, under the arched vault through which the Chevrotte passed. +</p> + +<p> +There were several seconds of anxious waiting. He saw at once what had +happened, and rushed forward. But the current, leaping over the pebbles, +carried this sacque, which seemed possessed, as it went along, much more +rapidly than he. He stooped, thinking he had caught it, but took up only a +handful of soapy foam. Twice he failed. The third time he almost fell. Then, +quite vexed, with a brave look as if doing something at the peril of his life, +he went into the water, and seized the garment just as it was about being drawn +under the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, who until now had followed the rescue anxiously, quite upset, as if +threatened by a great misfortune, was so relieved that she had an intense +desire to laugh. This feeling was partly nervous, it is true, but not entirely +so. For was not this the adventure of which she had so often dreamed? This +meeting on the border of a lake; the terrible danger from which she was to be +saved by a young man, more beautiful than the day? Saint George, the tribune, +the warrior! These were simply united in one, and he was this painter of +stained glass, this young workman in his white blouse! When she saw him coming +back, his feet wet through and through, as he held the dripping camisole +awkwardly in his hand, realising the ridiculous side of the energy he had +employed in saving it from the waves, she was obliged to bite her tongue to +check the outburst of gaiety which seemed almost to choke her. +</p> + +<p> +He forgot himself as he looked at her. She was like a most adorable child in +this restrained mirth with which all her youth seemed to vibrate. Splashed with +water, her arms almost chilled by the stream, she seemed to send forth from +herself the purity and clearness of these living springs which rushed from the +mossy woods. She was an impersonation of health, joy, and freshness, in the +full sunlight. One could easily fancy that she might be a careful housekeeper +and a queen withal as she was there, in her working dress, with her slender +waist, her regal neck, her oval face, such as one reads of in fairy-tales. And +he did not know how to give her back the linen, he found her exquisite, so +perfect a representation of the beauty of the art he loved. It enraged him, in +spite of himself, that he should have the air of an idiot, as he plainly saw +the effort she made not to laugh. But he was forced to do something, so at last +he gave her back the sacque. +</p> + +<p> +Then Angelique realised that if she were to open her mouth and try to thank +him, she would shout. Poor fellow! She sympathised with him and pitied him. But +it was irresistible; she was happy, and needed to give expression to it; she +must yield to the gaiety with which her heart overflowed. It was such lovely +weather, and all life was so beautiful! +</p> + +<p> +At last she thought she might speak, wishing simply to say: “Thank you, +Monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +But the wish to laugh had returned, and made her stammer, interrupting her at +each word. It was a loud, cheery laugh, a sonorous outpouring of pearly notes, +which sang sweetly to the crystalline accompaniment of the Chevrotte. +</p> + +<p> +The young man was so disconcerted that he could find nothing to say. His +usually pale face had become very red, the timid, childlike expression of his +eyes had changed into a fiery one, like that of an eagle, and he moved away +quickly. He disappeared with the old workman, and even then she continued to +laugh as she bent over the water, again splashing herself as she shook the +clothes hither and thither, rejoicing in the brightness of the happy day. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow he came an hour earlier. But at five o’clock in the morning +the linen, which had been dripping all night, was spread out on the grass. +There was a brisk wind, which was excellent for drying. But in order that the +different articles need not be blown away, they were kept in place by putting +little pebbles on their four corners. The whole wash was there, looking of a +dazzling whiteness among the green herbage, having a strong odour of plants +about it, and making the meadow as if it had suddenly blossomed out into a +snowy covering of daisies. +</p> + +<p> +When Angelique came to look at it after breakfast, she was distressed, for so +strong had become the gusts of wind that all threatened to be carried away. +Already a sheet had started, and several napkins had gone to fasten themselves +to the branches of a willow. She fortunately caught them, but then the +handkerchiefs began to fly. There was no one to help her; she was so frightened +that she lost all her presence of mind. When she tried to spread out the sheet +again, she had a regular battle, for she was quite lost in it, as it covered +her with a great crackling sound. +</p> + +<p> +Through all the noise of the wind she heard a voice saying, +“Mademoiselle, do you wish me to help you?” +</p> + +<p> +It was he, and immediately she cried to him, with no other thought than her +pre-occupation as a good housewife: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I wish it. Come and help me, then. Take the end over there, +nearest to you. Hold it firm!” +</p> + +<p> +The sheet, which they stretched out with their strong arms, flapped backwards +and forwards like a sail. At last they succeeded in putting it on the ground, +and then placed upon it much heavier stones than before. And now that, quite +conquered, it sank quietly down, neither of them thought of leaving their +places, but remained on their knees at the opposite corners, separated by this +great piece of pure white linen. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled, but this time without malice. It was a silent message of thanks. He +became by degrees a little bolder. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Felicien.” +</p> + +<p> +“And mine is Angelique.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a painter on glass, and have been charged to repair the +stained-glass window of the chapel here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I live over there with my father and mother, and I am an embroiderer of +church vestments.” +</p> + +<p> +The wind, which continued to be strong under the clear blue sky, carried away +their words, lashed them with its purifying breath in the midst of the warm +sunshine in which they were bathed. +</p> + +<p> +They spoke of things which they already knew, as if simply for the pleasure of +talking. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the window, then, to be replaced?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! oh no! it will be so well repaired that the new part cannot be +distinguished from the old. I love it quite as much as you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it is indeed true that I love it! I have already embroidered a Saint +George, but it was not so beautiful as this one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not so beautiful! How can you say that? I have seen it, if it is the +Saint George on the chasuble which the Abbot Cornille wore last Sunday. It is a +marvellous thing.” +</p> + +<p> +She blushed with pleasure, but quickly turned the conversation, as she +exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry and put another stone on the left corner of the sheet, or the wind +will carry it away from us again.” +</p> + +<p> +He made all possible haste, weighed down the linen, which had been in great +commotion, like the wings of a great wounded bird trying its best to fly away. +Finding that this time it would probably keep its place, the two young people +rose up, and now Angelique went through the narrow, green paths between the +pieces of linen, glancing at each one, while he followed her with an equally +busy look, as if preoccupied by the possible loss of a dish-towel or an apron. +All this seemed quite natural to them both. So she continued to chatter away +freely and artlessly, as she told of her daily life and explained her tastes. +</p> + +<p> +“For my part, I always wish that everything should be in its place. In +the morning I am always awakened at the same hour by the striking of the +cuckoo-clock in the workroom; and whether it is scarcely daylight or not, I +dress myself as quickly as possible; my shoes and stockings are here, my soap +and all articles of toilette there—a true mania for order. Yet you may +well believe that I was not born so! Oh no! On the contrary, I was the most +careless person possible. Mother was obliged to repeat to me the same words +over and over again, that I might not leave my things in every corner of the +house, for I found it easier to scatter them about. And now, when I am at work +from morning to evening, I can never do anything right if my chair is not in +the same place, directly opposite the light, Fortunately, I am neither right +nor left handed, but can use both hands equally well at embroidering, which is +a great help to me, for it is not everyone who can do that. Then, I adore +flowers, but I cannot keep a bouquet near me without having a terrible +headache. Violets alone I can bear, and that is surprising. But their odour +seems to calm me, and at the least indisposition I have only need to smell them +and I am at once cured.” +</p> + +<p> +He was enraptured while listening to her prattle. He revelled in the beautiful +ring of her voice, which had an extremely penetrating, prolonged charm; and he +must have been peculiarly sensitive to this human music, for the caressing +inflection on certain words moistened his eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly returning to her household cares she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, now the shirts will soon be dry!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in the unconscious and simple need of making herself known, she continued +her confidences: +</p> + +<p> +“For colouring, the white is always beautiful, is it not? I tire at times +of blue, of red, and of all other shades; but white is a constant joy, of which +I am never weary. There is nothing in it to trouble you; on the contrary, you +would like to lose yourself in it. We had a white cat, with yellow spots, which +I painted white. It did very well for a while, but it did not last long. Listen +a minute. Mother does not know it, but I keep all the waste bits of white silk, +and have a drawer full of them, for just nothing except the pleasure of looking +at them, and smoothing them over from time to time. And I have another secret, +but this is a very serious one! When I wake up, there is every morning near my +bed a great, white object, which gently flies away.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not smile, but appeared firmly to believe her. Was not all she said, in +her simple way, quite natural? A queen in the magnificence of her courtly +surroundings could not have conquered him so quickly. She had, in the midst of +this white linen on the green grass, a charming, grand air, happy and supreme, +which touched him to the heart, with an ever-increasing power. He was +completely subdued. She was everything to him from this moment. He would follow +her to the last day of his life, in the worship of her light feet, her delicate +hands, of her whole being, adorable and perfect as a dream. She continued to +walk before him, with a short quick step, and he followed her closely, +suffocated by a thought of the happiness he scarcely dared hope might come to +him. +</p> + +<p> +But another sudden gust of wind came up, and there was a perfect flight into +the distance of cambric collars and cuffs, of neckerchiefs and chemisettes of +muslin, which, as they disappeared, seemed like a flock of white birds knocked +about by the tempest. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique began to run. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear! What shall I do? You will have to come again and help me. Oh +dear!” +</p> + +<p> +They both rushed forward. She caught a kerchief on the borders of the +Chevrotte. He had already saved two chemisettes which he found in the midst of +some high thistles. One by one the cuffs and the collars were retaken. But in +the course of their running at full speed, the flying folds of her skirt had at +several different times brushed against him, and each time his face became +suddenly red, and his heart beat violently. In his turn, he touched her face +accidentally, as she jumped to recover the last fichu, which he had carelessly +let go of. She was startled and stood quietly, but breathing more quickly. She +joked no longer; her laugh sounded less clear, and she was not tempted to +ridicule this great awkward, but most attractive fellow. The feminine nature so +recently awakened in her softened her almost to tears, and with the feeling of +inexplicable tenderness, which overpowered her, was mingled a half-fear. +</p> + +<p> +What was the matter with her that she was less gay, and that she was so +overcome by this delicious pang? When he held out the kerchief to her, their +hands, by chance, touched for a moment. They trembled, as they looked at each +other inquiringly. Then she drew back quickly, and for several seconds seemed +not to know what she should do under the extraordinary circumstances which had +just occurred. At last she started. Gathering up all the smaller articles of +linen in her arms, and leaving the rest, she turned towards her home. +</p> + +<p> +Felicien then wished to speak . . . “Oh, I beg your pardon. . . . I pray +you to——” +</p> + +<p> +But the wind, which had greatly increased, cut off his words. In despair he +looked at her as she flew along, as if carried away by the blast. She ran and +ran, in and out, among the white sheets and tablecloths, under the oblique, +pale golden rays of the sun. Already the shadow of the Cathedral seemed to +envelop her, and she was on the point of entering her own garden by the little +gate which separated it from the Clos, without having once glanced behind her. +But on the threshold she turned quickly, as if seized with a kind impulse, not +wishing that he should think she was angry, and confused, but smiling, she +called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. Thank you very much.” +</p> + +<p> +Did she wish to say that she was grateful to him for having helped her in +recovering the linen? Or was it for something else? She disappeared, and the +gate was shut after her. +</p> + +<p> +And he remained alone in the middle of the field, under the great regular +gusts, which continued to rage, although the sky was still clear and pure. The +elms in the Bishop’s garden rustled with a long, billowy sound, and a +loud voice seemed to clamour through the terraces and the flying buttresses of +the Cathedral. But he heard only the light flapping of a little morning cap, +tied to a branch of a lilac bush, as if it were a bouquet, and which belonged +to her. +</p> + +<p> +From that date, each time that Angelique opened her window she saw Felicien +over there in the Clos-Marie. He passed days in the field, having the chapel +window as an excuse for doing so, on which, however, the work did not advance +the least in the world. For hours he would forget himself behind a cluster of +bushes, where, stretched out on the grass, he watched through the leaves. And +it was the greatest of pleasures to smile at each other every morning and +evening. She was so happy that she asked for nothing more. There would not be +another general washing for three months, so, until then, the little +garden-gate would seldom be open. But three months would pass very quickly, and +if they could see each other daily, was not that bliss enough? What, indeed, +could be more charming than to live in this way, thinking during the day of the +evening look, and during the night of the glance of the early morrow? She +existed only in the hope of that desired moment; its joy filled her life. +Moreover, what good would there be in approaching each other and in talking +together? Were they not constantly becoming better acquainted without meeting? +Although at a distance, they understood each other perfectly; each penetrated +into the other’s innermost thoughts with the closest intimacy. At last, +they became so filled one with the other that they could not close their eyes +without seeing before them, with an astonishing clearness of detail, the image +of their new friend; so, in reality, they were never separated. +</p> + +<p> +It was a constant surprise to Angelique that she had unbosomed herself at once +to Felicien. At their first meeting she had confided in him, had told him +everything about her habits, her tastes, and the deepest secrets of her heart. +He, more silent, was called Felicien, and that was all she knew. Perhaps it was +quite right that it should be so; the woman giving everything, and the man +holding himself back as a stranger. She had no premature curiosity. She +continued to smile at the thought of things which would certainly be realised. +So for her, that of which she was ignorant counted for nothing. The only +important fact in her mind was the intimacy between them, which united them, +little by little, apart from the world. She knew nothing about him, yet she was +so well acquainted with his nature that she could read his thoughts in a simple +look or smile. He, her hero, had come as she always said he would. She had at +once recognised him, and they loved each other. +</p> + +<p> +So they enjoyed most thoroughly this true possession from a distance. They were +certainly encouraged by the new discoveries they made. She had long, slender +hands, roughened a little at the ends of the fingers by her constant use of the +needle, but he adored them. She noticed that his feet were small, and was proud +of the fact. Everything about him flattered her; she was grateful to him for +being so handsome; and she was overcome with joy the evening that she found his +beard to be of a lighter shade than his hair, which fact gave a greater +softness to his smile. He went away transported when, one morning, as she +leaned over the balcony, he saw a little red spot on her pretty neck. Their +hearts being thus laid open, new treasures were daily found. Certainly the +proud and frank manner in which she opened her window showed that, even in her +ignorance as a little embroiderer, she had the royal bearing of a princess. In +the same way she knew that he was good, from seeing how lightly he walked over +the herbs and the grass. Around them was a radiance of virtues and graces from +the first hour of their meeting. Each interview had its special charm. It +seemed to them as if their felicity in seeing each other could never be +exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Felicien soon showed certain signs of impatience, and he no +longer remained for hours concealed behind a bush in the immobility of an +absolute happiness. As soon as Angelique appeared at her window, he was +restless, and tried to approach her as he glided from willow to willow. At +length she was a little disturbed, fearing that someone might see him. One day +there was almost a quarrel, for he came even to the wall of the house, so she +was obliged to leave the balcony. It was a great shock to him that she should +be offended, and he showed in the expression of his face so mute a prayer of +submission that the next day she pardoned him, and opened her window at the +usual hour. +</p> + +<p> +But although expectation was delightful, it was not sufficient for him, and he +began again. Now he seemed to be everywhere at once: he filled the Clos-Marie +with his restlessness; he came out from behind every tree; he appeared above +every bunch of brambles. Like the wood-pigeons of the great elms in the +Bishop’s garden, he seemed to have his habitation between two branches in +the environs. The Chevrotte was an excuse for his passing entire days there, on +its willowy banks, bending over the stream, in which he seemed to be watching +the floating of the clouds. +</p> + +<p> +One day she saw that he had climbed up on the ruins of the old mill, and was +standing on the framework of a shed, looking happy to have thus approached her +a little, in his regret at not being able to fly even so far as her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Another day she stifled a slight scream as she saw him far above her, leaning +on an ornamented balustrade of the Cathedral, on the roof of the chapels of the +choir, which formed a terrace. In what way could he have reached this gallery, +the door of which was always fastened, and whose key no one had a right to +touch but the beadle? Then again, a little later on, how was it that she should +find him up in the air among the flying buttresses of the nave and the +pinnacles of the piers? From these heights he could look into every part of her +chamber, as the swallows who, flying from point to point among the spires, saw +everything that was therein, without her having the idea of hiding herself from +them. But a human eye was different, and from that day she shut herself up +more, and an ever-increasing trouble came to her at the thought that her +privacy was being intruded upon, and that she was no longer alone in the +atmosphere of adoration that surrounded her. If she were really not impatient, +why was it that her heart beat so strongly, like the bell of the clock-tower on +great festivals? +</p> + +<p> +Three days passed without Angelique showing herself, so alarmed was she by the +increasing boldness of Felicien. She vowed in her mind that she would never see +him again, and wound herself up to such a degree of resentment, that she +thought she hated him. But he had given her his feverishness. She could not +keep still, and the slightest pretext was enough for an excuse to leave the +chasuble upon which she was at work. +</p> + +<p> +So, having heard that <i>mère</i> Gabet was ill in bed, in the most profound +poverty, she went to see her every morning. Her room was on the Rue des +Orfèvres, only three doors away from the Huberts. She would take her tea, +sugar, and soup, then, when necessary, go to buy her medicine at the +druggist’s on the Grand Rue. One day, as she returned with her hands full +of the little phials, she started at seeing Felicien at the bedside of the old +sick woman. He turned very red, and slipped away awkwardly, after leaving a +charitable offering. The next day he came in as she was leaving, and she gave +him her place, very much displeased. Did he really intend to prevent her from +visiting the poor? +</p> + +<p> +In fact, she had been taken with one of her fits of charity, which made her +give all she owned that she might overwhelm those who had nothing. At the idea +of suffering, her whole soul melted into a pitiful fraternity. She went often +to the <i>père</i> Mascart’s, a blind paralytic on the Rue Basse, whom +she was obliged to feed herself the broth she carried him; then to the +Chouteaux, a man and his wife, each one over ninety years of age, who lived in +a little hut on the Rue Magloire, which she had furnished for them with +articles taken from the attic of her parents. Then there were others and others +still whom she saw among the wretched populace of the quarter, and whom she +helped to support from things that were about her, happy in being able to +surprise them and to see them brighten up for a little while. But now, strange +to say, wherever she went she encountered Felicien! Never before had she seen +so much of him; she who had avoided going to her window for fear that he might +be near. Her trouble increased, and at last she was very angry. +</p> + +<p> +But the worst of all in this matter was that Angelique soon despaired of her +charity. This young man spoilt all her pleasure of giving. In other days he +might perhaps have been equally generous, but it was not among the same people, +not her own particular poor, of that she was sure. And he must have watched her +and followed her very closely to know them all and to take them so regularly +one after the other. +</p> + +<p> +Now, go when she might with a little basket of provisions to the Chouteaux, +there was always money on the table. One day, when she went to <i>père</i> +Mascart, who was constantly complaining that he had no tobacco, she found him +very rich, with a shining new louis d’or on his table. Strangest of all, +once when visiting <i>mère</i> Gabet, the latter gave her a hundred franc note +to change, and with it she was enabled to buy some high-priced medicines, of +which the poor woman had long been in need, but which she never hoped to +obtain, for where could she find money to pay for them? +</p> + +<p> +Angelique herself could not distribute much money, as she had none. It was +heart-breaking to her to realise her powerlessness, when he could so easily +empty his purse. She was, of course, happy that such a windfall had come to the +poor, but she felt as if she were greatly diminished in her former +self-estimation. She no longer had the same happiness in giving, but was +disturbed and sad that she had so little to distribute, while he had so much. +</p> + +<p> +The young man, not understanding her feelings, thinking to conquer her esteem +by an increase of gifts, redoubled his charity, and thus daily made hers seem +less. +</p> + +<p> +Was not it exasperating to run against this fellow everywhere; to see him give +an ox wherever she offered an egg? In addition to all this, she was obliged to +hear his praises sung by all the needy whom he visited: “a young man so +good, so kind, and so well brought up.” She was a mere nothing now. They +talked only of him, spreading out his gifts as if to shame hers. +Notwithstanding her firm determination to forget him, she could not refrain +from questioning them about him. What had he left? What had he said? He was +very handsome, was he not? Tender and diffident as a woman! Perhaps he might +even have spoken of her! Ah, yes indeed! That was true, for he always talked of +her. Then she was very angry; yes, she certainly hated him, for at last she +realised that he weighed on her breast too heavily. +</p> + +<p> +But matters could not continue in this way for ever, a change must take place; +and one May evening, at a wondrously beautiful nightfall, it came. It was at +the home of the Lemballeuse, the family who lived in the ruins of the mill. +There were only women there; the old grandmother, seamed with wrinkles but +still active, her daughter, and her grandchildren. Of the latter, Tiennette, +the elder, was a large, wild-looking girl, twenty years of age, and her two +little sisters, Rose and Jeanne, had already bold, fearless eyes, under their +unkempt mops of red hair. They all begged during the day on the highway and +along the moat, coming back at night, their feet worn out from fatigue in their +old shoes fastened with bits of string. Indeed, that very evening Tiennette had +been obliged to leave hers among the stones, and had returned wounded and with +bleeding ankles. Seated before their door, in the midst of the high grass of +the Clos-Marie, she drew out the thorns from her flesh, whilst her mother and +the two children surrounded her and uttered lamentations. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Angelique arrived, hiding under her apron the bread which she had +brought them, as she did once every week. She had entered the field by the +little garden-gate, which she had left open behind her, as she intended to go +back as quickly as possible. But she stopped on seeing all the family in tears. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter? Why are you in such distress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my good lady!” whined the mother Lemballeuse, “do not +you see in what a terrible state this great foolish girl has put herself? +To-morrow she will not be able to walk, so that will be a whole day lost. She +must have some shoes!” +</p> + +<p> +Rose and Jeanne, with their eyes snapping from under their tangled hair, +redoubled their sobs, as they cried out loudly— +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! She must have some shoes! She must have some shoes!” +</p> + +<p> +Tiennette, half lifting up her thin, dark face, looked round furtively. Then, +fiercely, without a word, she made one of her feet bleed still more, maddened +over a long splinter which she had just drawn out by the aid of a pin, and +which must have pained her intensely. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, quite touched by the scene, offered her the gift. +</p> + +<p> +“See! Here at least is some bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bread!” said the mother. “No doubt it is necessary to +eat. But it is not with bread that she will be able to walk again, of that I am +certain! And we were to go to the fair at Bligny, a fair where, every year, she +makes at least two francs. Oh, good heavens! What will become of us if she +cannot go there?” +</p> + +<p> +Pity and embarrassment rendered Angelique mute. She had exactly five sous in +her pocket. It surely was not with five sous that one could buy a pair of +shoes, even at an auction sale. As it had often done before, her want of money +now paralysed her. And that which exasperated her still more and made her lose +her self-control was that at this moment, as she looked behind her, she saw +Felicien, standing a few feet from her in the darkening shadow. Without doubt +he had heard all that had been said; perhaps even he had been there for a great +while, for he always appeared to her in this way when least expected without +her ever knowing whence he came or whither he was going. +</p> + +<p> +She thought to herself, “He will give the shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, he had already come forward. The first stars were appearing in the pale +sky. A sweet, gentle quiet seemed to fall down from on high, soothing to sleep +the Clos-Marie, whose willows were lost in the dusk. The Cathedral itself was +only a great black bar in the West. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly, now he will offer to give the shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +And at this probability she was really quite discouraged. Was he always, then, +to give everything? Could she never, even once, conquer him? Never! Her heart +beat so rapidly that it pained her. She wished that she might be very rich, to +show him that she, too, could make others happy. +</p> + +<p> +But the Lemballeuse had seen the good gentleman. The mother had rushed forward; +the two little sisters moaned as they held out their hands for alms, whilst the +elder one, letting go of her wounded ankles, looked at the new-comer +inquiringly with her wild eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, my noisy children,” said Felicien. Then, addressing the +mother, he continued, “You may go to the Grand Rue, at the corner of the +Rue Basse—” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had understood immediately, for the shoemaker had his shop there. She +interrupted him quickly, and was so agitated that she stammered her words at +random. +</p> + +<p> +“But that is a useless thing to do! What would be the good of it? It is +much more simple—” +</p> + +<p> +Yet she could not find in her own mind the more simple thing she desired. What +could she do? What could she invent, so to be before him in giving her charity? +Never had it seemed to her possible she could detest him as she did now. +</p> + +<p> +“You will say from me, that it is I who have sent you,” continued +Felicien. “You will ask—” +</p> + +<p> +Again she interrupted him. The contest lasted a moment longer. She repeated in +an anxious way: +</p> + +<p> +“It is, indeed, much more simple; it is much easier—” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she was calm. She seated herself upon a stone, thoughtfully examined +her shoes, took them off, and then drew off her stockings, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Look! This is the best thing to do, after all! Why should you have any +trouble about the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my good young lady! God will reward you!” exclaimed the mother +Lemballeuse, as she turned over the shoes and found they were not only +excellent and strong, but almost new. “I will cut them a trifle on the +top, to make them a little larger—Tiennette, why do you not thank her, +stupid creature?” +</p> + +<p> +Tiennette snatched from the hands of Rose and Jeanne the stockings they were +coveting. She did not open her lips; she only gave one long, fixed, hard look. +</p> + +<p> +But now Angelique realised that her feet were bare, and that Felicien saw them. +She blushed deeply, and knew not what to do. She dared not move, for, were she +to rise to get up, he would only see them all the more. Then, frightened, she +rose quickly, and without realising what she was doing, began to run. In the +grass her flying feet were very white and small. The darkness of the evening +had increased, and the Clos-Marie was a lake of shadow between the great trees +on one side and the Cathedral on the other. And on the ground the only visible +light came from those same little feet, white and satiny as the wing of a dove. +</p> + +<p> +Startled and afraid of the water, Angelique followed the bank of the Chevrotte, +that she might cross it on a plank which served as a bridge. But Felicien had +gone a shorter way through the brambles and brushwood. Until now he had always +been overcome by his timidity, and he had turned redder than she as he saw her +bare feet, pure and chaste as herself. Now, in the overflow of his ignorant +youth, passionately fond of beauty and desirous for love, he was impatient to +cry out and tell her of the feeling which had entirely taken possession of him +since he had first seen her. But yet, when she brushed by him in her flight, he +could only stammer, with a trembling voice, the acknowledgment so long delayed +and which burnt his lips: +</p> + +<p> +“I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped in surprise. For an instant she stood still, and, slightly +trembling, looked at him. Her anger and the hate she thought she had for him +all vanished at once, and melted into a most delicious sentiment of +astonishment. What had he said, what was the word he had just pronounced, that +she should be so overcome by it? She knew that he loved her; yet when he said +so, the sound of it in her ear overwhelmed her with an inexplicable joy. It +resounded so deeply through her whole being, that her fears came back and were +enlarged. She never would dare reply to him; it was really more than she could +bear; she was oppressed. +</p> + +<p> +He, grown more bold, his heart touched and drawn nearer to hers by their united +deeds of charity, repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +And she, fearing the lover, began to run. That was surely the only way to +escape such a danger; yet it was also a happiness, it was all so strange. The +Chevrotte was gaily singing, and she plunged into it like a startled fawn. +Among its pebbles her feet still ran on, under the chill of icy water. The +garden-gate was at last reached, it closed, and she disappeared. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +For two days Angelique was conscience-smitten. As soon as she was alone, she +sobbed as if she had done something wrong. And this question, which she could +not answer, came constantly to her mind: Had she sinned in listening to this +young man? Was she lost, like the dreadful women in the Legend, who, having +been tempted, had yielded to the Devil? Was life to-day as it was centuries +ago? The words, so softly uttered, “I love you,” still resounded +with such a tumult in her ears, and she was confused, yet pleased by them to +such a degree, that they must certainly have come from some terrible power +hidden in the depth of the invisible. But she knew not—in fact, how could +she have known anything in the ignorance and solitude in which she had grown +up? Her anguish was redoubled by this mysterious and inexplicable struggle +within her. +</p> + +<p> +Had she sinned in making the acquaintance of Felicien, and then in keeping it a +secret? She recalled to her mind, one by one, all the details of her daily +experience during the past few weeks; she argued with her innocent scruples. +</p> + +<p> +What was sin, in short? Was it simply to meet—to talk—and +afterwards to tell a falsehood to one’s parents? But that could not be +the extent of the evil. Then why was she so oppressed? Why, if not guilty, did +she suddenly seem to have become quite another person—as agitated as if a +new soul had been given her? Perhaps it was sin that had made her so weak and +uncomfortable. Her heart was full of vague, undefined longings—so strange +a medley of words, and also of acts, in the future, that she was frightened by +them, without in the least understanding them. The blood mounted to her face, +and exquisitely coloured her cheeks, as she heard again the sweet, yet +appalling words, “I love you”; and she reasoned no longer, but +sobbed again, doubting evident facts, fearing the commission of a fault in the +beyond—in that which had neither name nor form. +</p> + +<p> +But that which especially distressed her now was that she had not made a +<i>confidante</i> of Hubertine. Could she only have asked her what she wished +to know, no doubt the latter with a word would have explained the whole mystery +to her. Then it seemed to her as if the mere fact of speaking to someone of her +trouble would have cured her. But the secret had become too weighty; to reveal +it would be more than she could bear, for the shame would be too great. She +became quite artful for the moment, affected an air of calmness, when in the +depths of her soul a tempest was raging. If asked why she was so pre-occupied, +she lifted her eyes with a look of surprise as she replied that she was +thinking of something. Seated before the working-frame, her hands mechanically +drawing the needle back and forth, very quiet to all outward appearance, she +was, from morning till evening, distracted by one thought. To be loved! To be +loved! And for herself, on her side, was she in love? This was still an obscure +question, to which, in her inexperience, she found no answer. She repeated it +so constantly that at last it made her giddy, the words lost all their usual +meaning, and everything seemed to be in a whirl, which carried her away. With +an effort she recovered herself, and realised that, with needle in hand, she +was still embroidering with her accustomed application, although mechanically, +as if in a half-dream. Perhaps these strange symptoms were a sign that she was +about to have a severe illness. One evening she had such an attack of shivering +when she went to bed that she thought she would never be able to recover from +it. That idea was at the same time both cruel and sweet. She suffered from it +as if it were too great a joy. Even the next day her heart beat as if it would +break, and her ears were filled with a singing sound, like the ringing of a +distant bell. What could it mean? Was she in love, or was she about to die? +Thinking thus, she smiled sweetly at Hubertine, who, in the act of waxing her +thread, was looking at her anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, Angelique had made a vow that she would never again see Felicien. She +no longer ran the risk of meeting him among the brambles and wild grasses in +the Clos-Marie, and she had even given up her daily visits to the poor. Her +fear was intense lest, were they to find themselves face to face, something +terrible might come to pass. In her resolution there was mingled, besides a +feeling of penitence, a wish to punish herself for some fault she might +unintentionally have committed. So, in her days of rigid humiliation, she +condemned herself not even to glance once through the window, so sure was she +of seeing on the banks of the Chevrotte the one whom she dreaded. But, after a +while, being sorely tempted, she looked out, and if it chanced that he were not +there, she was sad and low-spirited until the following day. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, when Hubert was arranging a dalmatic, a ring at the door-bell +obliged him to go downstairs. It must be a customer; no doubt an order for some +article, as Hubertine and Angelique heard the hum of voices which came through +the doorway at the head of the stairs, which remained open. Then they looked up +in great astonishment; for steps were mounting, and the embroiderer was +bringing someone with him to the workroom, a most unusual occurrence. And the +young girl was quite overcome as she recognised Felicien. He was dressed +simply, like a journeyman artist, whose hands are white. Since she no longer +went to him he had come to her, after days of vain expectation and of anxious +uncertainty, during which he had constantly said to himself that she did not +yet love him, since she remained hidden from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, my dear child, here is something which will be of particular +interest to you,” explained Hubert. “Monsieur wishes to give orders +for an exceptional piece of work. And, upon my word, that we might talk of it +at our ease, I preferred that he should come up here at once. This is my +daughter, sir, to whom you must show your drawing.” +</p> + +<p> +Neither he nor Hubertine had the slightest suspicion that this was not the +first time the young people had met. They approached them only from a sentiment +of curiosity to see. But Felicien was, like Angelique, almost stifled with +emotion and timidity. As he unrolled the design, his hands trembled, and he was +obliged to speak very slowly to hide the change in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It is to be a mitre for Monseigneur the Bishop. Yes, certain ladies in +the city who wished to make him this present charged me with the drawing of the +different parts, as well as with the superintendence of its execution. I am a +painter of stained glass, but I also occupy myself a great deal with ancient +art. You will see that I have simply reconstituted a Gothic mitre.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique bent over the great sheet of parchment which he had spread before +her, and started slightly as she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it is Saint Agnes.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed the youthful martyr of but thirteen years of age; the naked +virgin clothed with her hair, that had grown so long only her little hands and +feet were seen from under it, just as she was upon the pillar at one of the +doors of the cathedral; particularly, however, as one found her in the interior +of the church, in an old wooden statue that formerly was painted, but was +to-day a light fawn colour, all gilded by age. She occupied the entire front of +the mitre, half floating, as she was carried towards heaven borne by the +angels; which below her, stretched out into the distance, was a fine delicate +landscape. The other sides and the lappets were enriched with lance-shaped +ornaments of an exquisite style. +</p> + +<p> +“These ladies,” continued Felicien, “wish to make the present +on the occasion of the Procession of the Miracle, and naturally I thought it my +duty to choose Saint Agnes.” +</p> + +<p> +“The idea was a most excellent one,” interposed Hubert. +</p> + +<p> +And Hubertine added, in her turn: +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur will be deeply gratified.” +</p> + +<p> +The so-called Procession of the Miracle, which takes place each year on July +28, dates from the time of Jean V. d’Hautecœur, who instituted it as a +thanksgiving to God for the miraculous power He had given to him and to his +race to save Beaumont from the plague. According to the legend, the Hautecœurs +are indebted for this remarkable gift to the intervention of Saint Agnes, of +whom they were the greatest admirers; and since the most ancient time, it has +been the custom on the anniversary of her fête to take down the old statue of +the saint and carry it slowly in a solemn procession through the streets of the +town, in the pious belief that she still continues to disperse and drive away +all evils. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” at last murmured Angelique, her eyes on the design, +“the Procession of the Miracle. But that will come in a few days, and we +shall not have time enough to finish it.” +</p> + +<p> +The Huberts shook their heads. In truth, so delicate a piece of work required +the most minute care and attention. Yet Hubertine turned towards her daughter +as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I could help you, my dear. I might attend to the ornaments, and then you +will only have the figure to do.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique continued to closely examine the figure of the saint, and was deeply +troubled. She said to herself, “No, no.” She refused; she would not +give herself the pleasure of accepting. It would be inexcusable on her part +thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was evident that Felicien was +keeping something back. She was perfectly sure that he was not poor, and that +he wore a workman’s dress simply as a disguise; and this affected +simplicity, all this history, told only that he might approach her, put her on +her guard, amused and happy though she was, in reality, transfiguring him, +seeing in him the royal prince that he should be; so thoroughly did she live in +the absolute certainty of the entire realisation of her dream, sooner or later. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she repeated in a half-whisper, “we should not have the +needed time.” +</p> + +<p> +And without lifting her eyes she continued, as if speaking to herself: +</p> + +<p> +“For the saint, we could use neither the close embroidery nor the lace +openwork. It would not be worthy of her. It should be an embroidery in gold, +shaded by silk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” said Felicien. “That is what I had already thought +of, for I knew that Mademoiselle had re-found the secret of making it. There is +still quite a pretty little fragment of it at the sacristy.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert was quite excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! it was made in the fifteenth century, and the work was done by +one of my far-off ancestresses. . . . Shaded gold! Ah, Monsieur, there was +never anything equal to that in the whole world. But, unfortunately, it took +too much time, it cost altogether too dear, and, in addition, only a real +artist ever succeeded in it. Think of it; it is more than two hundred years +since anyone has ever attempted such embroidery. And if my daughter refuses, +you will be obliged to give it up entirely, for she is the only person who is +qualified to undertake it. I do not know of anyone else who has the delicacy of +fingers and the clearness of eye necessary for it.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, who, since they had spoken of the style of the work, realised what a +great undertaking it was, said, in a quiet, decided tone: +</p> + +<p> +“It would be utterly impossible to do it in a fortnight. It would need +the patience and skill of a fairy to accomplish it.” +</p> + +<p> +But Angelique, who had not ceased studying all the features of the beautiful +martyr, had ended by making a discovery which delighted her beyond expression. +Agnes resembled her. In designing from the old statue, Felicien certainly +thought of her, and this idea—that she was in his mind, always present +with him, that he saw her everywhere—softened her resolution to avoid +him. At last she looked up; she noticed how eager he was, and his eyes +glistened with so earnest a supplication that she was conquered. Still, with +the intuitive half-malice, the love of tormenting, this natural science which +comes to all young girls, even when they are entirely ignorant of life, she did +not wish to have the appearance of yielding too readily. +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible,” she repeated. “I could not do it for +anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien was in despair. He was sure he understood the hidden meaning in her +words. It was he whom she had refused, as well as the work. As he was about to +go out of the room, he said to Hubert: +</p> + +<p> +“As for the pay, you could have asked any price you wished. These ladies +gave me leave to offer as much as three thousand francs.” +</p> + +<p> +The household of the Huberts was in no way a selfish one; yet so great a sum +startled each member of it. The husband and wife looked at each other +inquiringly. Was it not a pity to lose so advantageous an offer? +</p> + +<p> +“Three thousand francs,” repeated Angelique, with her gentle voice; +“did you say three thousand francs, Monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +And she, to whom money was nothing, since she had never known its value, kept +back a smile, a mocking smile, which scarcely drew the corners of her mouth, +rejoicing that she need not seem to yield to the pleasure of seeing him, and +glad to give him a false opinion of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Monsieur, if you can give three thousand francs for it, then I +accept. I would not do it for everyone, but from the moment that one is willing +to pay so well, why, that is different. If it is necessary, I can work on it at +night, as well as during the day.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert and Hubertine then objected, wishing to refuse in their turn, for fear +the fatigue might be too great for her. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied. “It is never wise to send away money that +is brought to you. You can depend upon me, Monsieur. Your mitre will be ready +the evening before the procession.” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien left the design and bade them good-day, for he was greatly +disappointed, and he had no longer the courage to give any new explanations in +regard to the work, as an excuse for stopping longer. What would he gain by +doing so? It was certainly true that she did not like him, for she had +pretended not to recognise him, and had treated him as she would any ordinary +customer, whose money alone is good to take. At first he was angry, as he +accused her of being mean-spirited and grasping. So much the better! It was +ended between them, this unspoken romance, and he would never think of her +again. Then, as he always did think of her, he at last excused her, for was she +not dependent upon her work to live, and ought she not to gain her bread? +</p> + +<p> +Two days later he was very unhappy, and he began to wander around the house, +distressed that he could not see her. She no longer went out to walk. She did +not even go to the balcony, or to the window, as before. He was forced to +acknowledge that if she cared not for him, if in reality she was mercenary, in +spite of all, his love for her increased daily, as one loves when only twenty +years of age, without reasoning, following merely the drawing of one’s +heart, simply for the joy and the grief of loving. +</p> + +<p> +One morning he caught a glimpse of her for a moment, and realised that he could +not give her up. Now she was his chosen one and no other. Whatever she might +be, bad or good, ugly or pretty, poor or rich, he would give up his life rather +than not be able to claim her. +</p> + +<p> +The third day his sufferings were so great that, notwithstanding all his wise +resolves, he returned to the house of the embroiderers. +</p> + +<p> +After having rung the bell, he was received as before, downstairs by Hubert, +who, on account of the want of clearness in his explanations in regard to his +visit, concluded the best thing to be done was to allow him to go upstairs +again. +</p> + +<p> +“My daughter, Monsieur, wishes to speak to you on certain points of the +work that I do not quite understand.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Felicien stammered, “If it would not disturb Mademoiselle too much, +I would like to see how far—These ladies advised me to personally +superintend the work—that is, if by doing so I should not be in +anyone’s way.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique’s heart beat violently when she saw him come in. She almost +choked, but, making a great effort, she controlled herself. The blood did not +even mount her cheeks, and with an appearance of calm indifference, she +replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing ever disturbs me, Monsieur. I can work equally well before +anyone. As the design is yours, it is quite natural that you should wish to +follow the execution of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Quite discountenanced by this reception, Felicien would not have dared to have +taken a seat, had not Hubertine welcomed him cordially, as she smiled in her +sweet, quiet way at this excellent customer. Almost immediately she resumed her +work, bending over the frame where she was embroidering on the sides of the +mitre the Gothic ornaments in guipure, or open lacework. +</p> + +<p> +On his side, Hubert had just taken down from the wall a banner which was +finished, had been stiffened, and for two days past had been hung up to dry, +and which now he wished to relax. No one spoke; the three workers kept at their +tasks as if no other person had been in the room with them. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this charming quiet, the young man little by little grew +calmer. When the clock struck three, the shadow of the Cathedral was already +very long, and a delicate half-light entered by the window, which was wide +open. It was almost like the twilight hour, which commenced early in the +afternoon for this little house, so fresh and green from all the verdure that +was about it, as it stood by the side of the colossal church. A slight sound of +steps was heard on the pavement outside; it was a school of young girls being +taken to Confession. +</p> + +<p> +In the workroom, the tools, the time-stained walls, everything which remained +there immovable, seemed to sleep in the repose of the centuries, and from every +corner came freshness and rest. A great square of white light, smooth and pure, +fell upon the frame over which Hubertine and Angelique were bending, with their +delicate profiles in the fawn-coloured reflection of the gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle,” began Felicien, feeling very awkward, as he +realised that he must give some reason for his visit—“I wish to +say, Mademoiselle, that for the hair it seems to me it would be better to +employ gold rather than silk.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her head, and the laughing expression of her eyes clearly signified +that he need not have taken the trouble of coming if he had no other +recommendation to make. And she looked down again as she replied, in a +half-mocking tone: +</p> + +<p> +“There is no doubt about that, Monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +He was indeed ridiculous, for he remarked then for the first time that it was +exactly what she was doing. Before her was the design he had made, but tinted +with water-colours, touched up with gold, with all the delicacy of an old +miniature, a little softened, like what one sees in some prayer books of the +fifteenth century. And she copied this image with the patience and the skill of +an artist working with a magnifying glass. After having reproduced it with +rather heavy strokes upon the white silk, tightly stretched and lined with +heavy linen, she covered this silk with threads of gold carried from the bottom +to the top, fastened simply at the two ends, so that they were left free and +close to each other. When using the same threads as a woof, she separated them +with the point of her needle to find the design below. She followed this same +drawing, recovered the gold threads with stitches of silk across, which she +assorted according to the colours of the model. In the shaded parts the silk +completely hid the gold; in the half-lights the stitches of silk were farther +and farther apart, while the real lights were made by gold alone, entirely +uncovered. It was thus the shaded gold, that most beautiful of all work, the +foundation being modified by the silks, making a picture of mellow colours as +if warmed from beneath by a glory and a mystic light. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” suddenly said Hubert, who began to stretch out the banner by +separating with his fingers the cords of the trellis, “the masterpiece of +a woman who embroidered in the olden time was always in this difficult work. To +become a member of the Corporation she had to make, as it is written in the +statutes, a figure by itself in shaded gold, a sixth part as tall as if +life-size. You would have been received, my Angelique.” +</p> + +<p> +Again there was an unbroken silence. Felicien watched her constantly, as she +stooped forward, absorbed in her task, quite as if she were entirely alone. For +the hair of the saint, contrary to the general rule, she had had the same idea +as he; that was, to use no silk, but to re-cover gold with gold, and she kept +ten needles at work with this brilliant thread of all shades, from the dark red +of dying embers, to the pale, delicate yellow tint of the leaves of the forest +trees in the autumn. Agnes was thus covered from her neck to her ankles with a +stream of golden hair. It began at the back of her head, covered her body with +a thick mantle, flowed in front of her from the shoulders in two waves which +united under the chin, and fell down to her feet in one wavy sheet. It was, +indeed, the miraculous hair, a fabulous fleece, with heavy twists and curls, a +glorious, starry efflorescence, the warm and living robe of a saint, perfumed +with its pure nudity. +</p> + +<p> +That day Felicien could do nothing but watch Angelique as she embroidered the +curls, following the exact direction of their rolling with her little pointed +stitches, and he never wearied of seeing the hair grow and radiate under her +magic needle. Its weight, and the great quivering with which it seemed to be +unrolled at one turn, disturbed him. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, occupied in sewing on spangles, hiding the thread with which each +one was attached with a tiny round of gold twist, lifted up her head from time +to time and gave him a calm motherly look, whenever she was obliged to throw +into the waste-basket a spangle that was not well made. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, who had just taken away the side pieces of wood, that he might unstitch +the banner from the frame, was about folding it up carefully. And at last, +Felicien, whose embarrassment was greatly increased by this unbroken silence, +realised that it was best for him to take leave, since as yet he had not been +able to think of any of the suggestions which he had said he intended to make. +</p> + +<p> +He rose, blushed, and stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“I will return another day. I find that I have so badly succeeded in +reproducing the charming design of the head of the saint that you may perhaps +have need of some explanations from me.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique looked him fully in the face with her sweet, great eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all. But come again, Monsieur. Do not hesitate to do so, if +you are in the least anxious about the execution of the work.” +</p> + +<p> +He went away, happy from the permission given him, but chilled by the coldness +of manner of the young girl. Yes, he realised that she did not now, and never +would, love him. That being the case, what use was there in seeing her? Yet on +the morrow, as well as on the following days, he did not fail to go to the +little house on the Rue des Orfèvres. The hours which he could not pass there +were sad enough, tortured as he was by his uncertainties, distressed by his +mental struggles. He was never calm, except when he was near her as she sat at +her frame. Provided that she was by his side, it seemed to him that he could +resign himself to the acceptance of the fact that he was disagreeable to her. +</p> + +<p> +Every morning he arrived at an early hour, spoke of the work, then seated +himself as if his presence there were absolutely necessary. Then he was in a +state of enchantment simply to look at her, with her finely cut features, her +motionless profile, which seemed bathed in the liquid golden tints of her hair; +and he watched in ecstasy the skilful play of her flexible hands, as she moved +them up and down in the midst of the needlefuls of gold or silk. She had become +so habituated to his presence that she was quite at her ease, and treated him +as a comrade. Nevertheless, he always felt that there was between them +something unexpressed which grieved him to the heart, he knew not why. +Occasionally she looked up, regarding him with an amused, half-mocking air, and +with an inquiring, impatient expression in her face. Then, finding he was +intensely embarrassed she at once became very cold and distant. +</p> + +<p> +But Felicien had discovered one way in which he could rouse her, and he took +advantage of it. It was this—to talk to her of her art, of the ancient +masterpieces of embroidery he had seen, either preserved among the treasures of +cathedrals, or copies of which were engraved in books. For instance, there were +the superb copes: that of Charlemagne, in red silk, with the great eagles with +unfurled wings; and the cope of Sion, which is decorated with a multitude of +saintly figures. Then the dalmatic, which is said to be the most beautiful +piece of embroidery in the whole world; the Imperial dalmatic, on which is +celebrated the glory of Jesus Christ upon the earth and in heaven, the +Transfiguration, and the Last Judgment, in which the different personages are +embroidered in silks of various colours, and in silver and gold. Also, there is +a wonderful tree of Jesse, an orfrey of silk upon satin, which is so perfect it +seems as if it were detached from a window of the fifteenth century; Abraham at +the foot, then David, Solomon, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and at the very top the +Saviour. +</p> + +<p> +Among the admirable chasubles he had seen, one in particular was touching in +its simplicity. It represented Christ on the Cross, and the drops of blood from +His side and His feet were made by little splashes of red silk on the cloth of +gold, while in the foreground was Mary, tenderly supported by Saint John. +</p> + +<p> +On another one, which is called the chasuble of Naintre, the Virgin is seated +in majesty, with richly-wrought sandals on her feet, and holding the Infant +Jesus on her knees. Others, and still others of marvelous workmanship were +alluded to, venerable not only from their great age and the beautiful faith +that they expressed, but from a richness unknown in our time, preserving the +odour of the incense of tabernacles and the mystic light which seemed to come +from the slightly-faded gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” sighed Angelique, “all those exquisite things are +finished now. We can only find certain tones to remind us of their +perfection.” +</p> + +<p> +With feverish hands and sparkling eyes she stopped working when Felicien +related to her the history of the most noted men and women who were +embroiderers in the olden time—Simonne de Gaules, Colin Jolye, and others +whose names have come down to us through the ages. Then, after a few moments, +she took up her needles again, and made them fly vigorously, as she appeared +transfigured, and guarded on her face the traces of the delight her artist +nature had received in listening to all these accounts. Never had she seemed to +him more beautiful, so enthusiastic was she, so maidenly and so pure, seated +there in the brighter surroundings of so many coloured silks, applying herself +with unfailing exactitude to her work, into the slightest details of which she +put her whole soul. When he had left off speaking he looked at her earnestly, +until roused by the silence, she realised the excited state into which all +these histories had thrown her, and became as embarrassed as if she had done +something wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, look; all my silks are entangled again! Mother, please not to +move about so much.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, who had not stirred at all, was amused, but simply smiled without +saying anything. At first she had been rather disturbed by the constant +attentions of the young man, and had talked the matter over thoroughly with +Hubert one evening in their room. But they could not help being drawn towards +him, and as in every respect his appearance was good and his manners perfectly +respectful, they concluded it was not necessary to object to interviews from +which Angelique derived so much happiness. So matters were allowed to take +their way, and she watched over the young people with a loving air of +protection. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, she herself for many days had been oppressed by the lamenting +caresses of her husband, who seemed never to weary of asking her if he had been +forgiven. This month was the anniversary of the time when they had lost their +child, and each year at this date they had the same regrets and the same +longings; he, trembling at her feet, happy to realise that he was pardoned; +she, loving and distressed, blaming herself for everything, and despairing that +Fate had been inexorable to all their prayers. They spoke of all this to no +one, were the same to outsiders in every way, but this increase of tenderness +between them came from their room like a silent perfume, disengaged itself from +their persons at the least movement, by each word, and by their way of looking +at each other, when it seemed as if for the moment they almost exchanged souls. +All this was like the grave accompaniment, the deep continuous bass, upon which +sang in clear notes the two hearts of the young couple. +</p> + +<p> +One week had passed, and the work on the mitre advanced. These daily meetings +had assumed a great and sweet familiarity. +</p> + +<p> +“The forehead should be very high, should it not? Without any trace of +eyebrows?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very high, and not the slightest shade. Quite like an old +miniature.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you pass me the white silk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, that I may thread it.” +</p> + +<p> +He helped her, and this union of work put them at their ease. It made the +occupation of each day seem perfectly natural to them both, and without a word +of love ever having been spoken, without their hands having once met by a +voluntary touch, the bond between them grew stronger each hour, and they were +henceforth eternally united one to the other. It was sufficient for them to +have lived until now. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, what are you doing that we no longer hear you?” +</p> + +<p> +She turned and saw Hubert, who was occupied in winding a long spool, as his +eyes were fixed abstractedly on his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“I am preparing some gold thread for your mother.” +</p> + +<p> +And from the reel taken to his wife, from the mute thanks of Hubertine, from +the constant little attentions her husband gave her, there was a warm, +caressing breath which surrounded and enveloped Angelique and Felicien as they +both bent again over the frame. The workroom itself, this ancient hall, as it +might almost be called, with its old tools and its peace of other ages, was an +unconscious accomplice in this work of union. It seemed so far away from the +noise of the street, remote as if in dreamy depths, in this country of good, +simple souls, where miracles reign, the easy realisation of all joys. +</p> + +<p> +In five days the mitre was to be finished; and Angelique, now sure that it +would be ready to be delivered, and that she would even have twenty-four hours +to spare, took a long breath of satisfaction, and seemed suddenly astonished at +finding Felicien so near her, with his elbows on the trestle. Had they really +become such intimate friends? She no longer attempted to struggle against what +she realised was his conquering power; her half-malicious smiles ceased at what +he tried to keep back, and which she so well understood, in spite of his +subterfuges. What was it, then, that had made her as if asleep, in her late +restless waiting? And the eternal question returned, the question that she +asked herself every evening when she went to her room. Did she love him? For +hours, in the middle of her great bed, she had turned over again and again +these words, seeking for meanings she could not find, and thinking she was too +ignorant to explain them. But that night, all at once, she felt her heart was +softened by some inexplicable happiness. She cried nervously, without reason, +and hid her head in her pillow that no one might hear her. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, now she loved him; she loved him enough to be willing to die for him. But +why? But how? She could not tell, she never would know; simply from her whole +heart came the cry that she did indeed love him. The light had come to her at +last; this new, overpowering joy overwhelmed her like the most ardent rays of +the sun. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time her tears flowed, but not from sorrow. On the contrary, she was +filled with an inexplicable confusion of happiness that was indefinable, +regretting now, more deeply than ever, that she had not made a +<i>confidante</i> of Hubertine. To-day her secret burdened her, and she made an +earnest vow to herself that henceforth she would be as cold as an icicle +towards Felicien, and would suffer everything rather than allow him to see her +tenderness. He should never know it. To love him, merely to love him, without +even acknowledging it, that was the punishment, the trial she must undergo to +pardon her fault. It would be to her in reality a delicious suffering. She +thought of the martyrs of whom she had read in the “Golden Legend,” +and it seemed to her that she was their sister in torturing herself in this +way, and that her guardian angel, Agnes, would look at her henceforward with +sadder, sweeter eyes than ever. +</p> + +<p> +The following day Angelique finished the mitre. She had embroidered with split +silk, light as gossamer, the little hands and feet, which were the only points +of white, naked flesh that came out from the royal mantle of golden hair. She +perfected the face with all the delicacy of the purest lily, wherein the gold +seemed like the blood in the veins under the delicate, silken skin. And this +face, radiant as the sun, was turned heavenward, as the youthful saint was +borne upward by the angels toward the distant horizon of the blue plain. +</p> + +<p> +When Felicien entered that day, he exclaimed with admiration: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how exactly she looks like you.” +</p> + +<p> +It was an involuntary expression; an acknowledgment of the resemblance he had +purposely put in the design. He realised the fact after he had spoken, and +blushed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“That is indeed true, my little one; she has the same beautiful eyes that +you have,” said Hubert, who had come forward to examine the work. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine merely smiled now, having made a similar remark many days before, and +she was surprised and grieved when she heard Angelique reply in a harsh, +disagreeable tone of voice, like that she sometimes had in her fits of +obstinacy years ago: +</p> + +<p> +“My beautiful eyes! Why will you make fun of me in that way? I know as +well as you do that I am very ugly.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, getting up, she shook out her dress, overacting her assumed character of +a harsh, avaricious girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, at last! It is really finished! I am thankful, for it was too much +of a task, too heavy a burden on my shoulders. Do you know, I would never +undertake to make another one for the same price?” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien listened to her in amazement. Could it be that after all she still +cared only for money? Had he been mistaken when he thought at times she was so +exquisitely tender, and so passionately devoted to her artistic work? Did she +in reality wish for the pay her labour brought her? And was she so indifferent +that she rejoiced at the completion of her task, wishing neither to see nor to +hear of it again? For several days he had been discouraged as he sought in vain +for some pretext of continuing, later on, visits that gave him such pleasure. +But, alas! it was plain that she did not care for him in the least, and that +she never would love him. His suffering was so great that he grew very pale and +could scarcely speak. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mademoiselle, will you not make up the mitre?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, mother can do it so much better than I can. I am too happy at the +thought that I have nothing more to do with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you not like the work which you do so well?” +</p> + +<p> +“I? I do not like anything in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine was obliged to speak to her sternly, and tell her to be quiet. She +then begged Felicien to be so good as to pardon her nervous child, who was a +little weary from her long-continued application. She added that the mitre +would be at his disposal at an early hour on the following morning. It was the +same as if she had asked him to go away, but he could not leave. He stood and +looked around him in this old workroom, filled with shade and with peace, and +it seemed to him as if he were being driven from Paradise. He had spent so many +sweet hours there in the illusion of his brightest fancies, that it was like +tearing his very heart-strings to think all this was at an end. What troubled +him the worst was his inability to explain matters, and that he could only take +with him such a fearful uncertainty. At last he said good-day, resolved to risk +everything at the first opportunity rather than not to know the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had he closed the door when Hubert asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with you, my dear child? Are you ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed. It is simply that I am tired of having that young man here. +I do not wish to see him again.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Hubertine added: “Very well; you will not see him again. But nothing +should ever prevent one from being polite.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, making some trivial excuse, hurried up to her room as quickly as +possible. Then she gave free course to her tears. Ah, how intensely happy she +was, yet how she suffered! Her poor, dear beloved; he was sad enough when he +found he must leave her! But she must not forget that she had made a vow to the +saints, that although she loved him better than life, he should never know it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +On the evening of this same day, immediately after leaving the dinner-table, +Angelique complained of not being at all well, and went up at once to her room. +The agitation and excitement of the morning, her struggles against her true +self, had quite exhausted her. She made haste to go to bed, and covering her +head with the sheet, with a desperate feeling of disappearing for ever if she +could, again the tears came to her relief. +</p> + +<p> +The hours passed slowly, and soon it was night—a warm July night, the +heavy, oppressive quiet of which entered through the window, which had been +left wide open. In the dark heavens glistened a multitude of stars. It must +have been nearly eleven o’clock, and the moon, already grown quite thin +in its last quarter, would not rise until midnight. +</p> + +<p> +And in the obscure chamber, Angelique still wept nervously a flow of +inexhaustible tears, seemingly without reason, when a slight noise at her door +caused her to lift up her head. +</p> + +<p> +There was a short silence, when a voice called her tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Angelique! Angelique! My darling child!” +</p> + +<p> +She recognised the voice of Hubertine. Without doubt the latter, in her room +with her husband, had just heard the distant sound of sobbing, and anxious, +half-undressed, she had come upstairs to find out what was the matter with her +daughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Angelique, are you ill, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +Retaining her breath, the young girl made no answer. She did not wish to be +unkind, but her one absorbing idea at this moment was of solitude. To be alone +was the only possible alleviation of her trouble. A word of consolation, a +caress, even from her mother, would have distressed her. She imagined that she +saw her standing at the other side of the door, and from the delicacy of the +rustling movement on the tiled floor she thought she must be barefooted. Two or +three minutes passed, and she knew the kind watcher had not left her place, but +that, stooping, and holding with her beautiful hands the clothing so carelessly +thrown over her, she still listened at the keyhole. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, hearing nothing more, not even a sigh, did not like to call again. +She was very sure that she had heard sobs; but if the child had at last been +able to sleep, what good would it do to awaken her? She waited, however, +another moment, troubled by the thought of a grief which her daughter hid from +her, confusedly imagining what it might be from the tender emotion with which +her heart seemed filled from sympathy. At last she concluded to go down as she +had come up, quietly, her hands being so familiar with every turning that she +needed no candle, and leaving behind her no other sound than the soft, light +touch of her bare feet. +</p> + +<p> +Then, sitting up in bed, Angelique in her turn listened. So profound was the +outward silence that she could clearly distinguish the slight pressure of the +heel on the edge of each step of the stairway. At the foot, the door of the +chamber was opened, then closed again; afterward, she heard a scarcely-distinct +murmur, an affectionate, yet sad blending of voices in a half-whisper. No doubt +it was what her father and mother were saying of her; the fears and the hopes +they had in regard to her. For a long time that continued, although they must +have put out their light and gone to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Never before had any night sounds in this old house mounted in this way to her +ears. Ordinarily, she slept the heavy, tranquil sleep of youth; she heard +nothing whatever after placing her head upon her pillow; whilst now, in the +wakefulness caused by the inner combat against an almost overpowering sentiment +of affection which she was determined to conquer, it seemed to her as if the +whole house were in unison with her, that it was also in love, and mourned like +herself. Were not the Huberts, too, sad, as they stilled their tears and +thought of the child they had lost long ago, whose place, alas! had never been +filled? She knew nothing of this in reality, but she had a sensation in this +warm night of the watch of her parents below her, and of the disappointment in +their lives, which they could not forget, notwithstanding their great love for +each other, which was always as fresh as when they were young. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst she was seated in this way, listening in the house that trembled and +sighed, Angelique lost all self-control, and again the tears rolled down her +face, silently, but warm and living, as if they were her life’s blood. +One question above all others had troubled her since the early morning, and had +grieved her deeply. Was she right in having sent away Felicien in despair, +stabbed to the heart by her coldness, and with the thought that she did not +love him? She knew that she did love him, yet she had willingly caused him to +suffer, and now in her turn she was suffering intensely. Why should there be so +much pain connected with love? Did the saints wish for tears? Could it be that +Agnes, her guardian angel, was angry in the knowledge that she was happy? Now, +for the first time, she was distracted by a doubt. Before this, whenever she +thought of the hero she awaited, and who must come sooner or later, she had +arranged everything much more satisfactorily. When the right time arrived he +was to enter her very room, where she would immediately recognise and welcome +him, when they would both go away together, to be united for evermore. But how +different was the reality! He had come, and, instead of what she had foreseen, +their meeting was most unsatisfactory; they were equally unhappy, and were +eternally separated. To what purpose? Why had this result come to pass? Who had +exacted from her so strange a vow, that, although he might be very dear to her, +she was never to let him know it? +</p> + +<p> +But, yet again, Angelique was especially grieved from the fear that she might +have been bad and done some very wrong thing. Perhaps the original sin that was +in her had manifested itself again as when she was a little girl! She thought +over all her acts of pretended indifference: the mocking air with which she had +received Felicien, and the malicious pleasure she took in giving him a false +idea of herself. And the astonishment at what she had done, added to a cutting +remorse for her cruelty, increased her distress. Now, her whole heart was +filled with a deep infinite pity for the suffering she had caused him without +really meaning to do so. +</p> + +<p> +She saw him constantly before her, as he was when he left the house in the +morning: the despairing expression of his face, his troubled eyes, his +trembling lips; and in imagination she followed him through the streets, as he +went home, pale, utterly desolate, and wounded to the heart’s core by +her. Where was he now? Perhaps at this hour he was really ill! +</p> + +<p> +She wrung her hands in agony, distressed that she could not at once repair the +evil she had done. Ah! how she revolted at the idea of having made another +suffer, for she had always wished to be good, and to render those about her as +happy as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Twelve o’clock would ere long ring out from the old church-tower; the +great elms of the garden of the Bishop’s palace hid the moon, which was +just appearing above the horizon, and the chamber was still dark. Then, letting +her head fall back upon the pillow, Angelique dwelt no longer upon these +disturbing questions, as she wished to go to sleep. But this she could not do; +although she kept her eyes closed, her mind was still active; she thought of +the flowers which every night during the last fortnight she had found when she +went upstairs upon the balcony before her window. Each evening it was a lovely +bouquet of violets, which Felicien had certainly thrown there from the +Clos-Marie. She recollected having told him that flowers generally gave her a +sick headache, whilst violets alone had the singular virtue of calming her, and +so he had sent her quiet nights, a perfumed sleep refreshed by pleasant dreams. +This evening she had placed the bouquet by her bedside. All at once she had the +happy thought of taking it into her bed with her, putting it near her cheek, +and, little by little, being soothed with its sweet breath. The purple blossoms +did indeed do her good. Not that she slept, however; but she lay there with +closed eyes, penetrated by the refreshing odour that came from his gift; happy +to await events, in a repose and confident abandonment of her whole being. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly she started. It was past midnight. She opened her eyes, and was +astonished to find her chamber filled with a clear bright light. Above the +great elms the moon rose slowly, dimming the stars in the pale sky. Through the +window she saw the apse of the cathedral, almost white, and it seemed to her as +if it were the reflection of this whiteness which entered her room, like the +light of the dawn, fresh and pure. The whitewashed walls and beams, all this +blank nudity was increased by it, enlarged, and moved back as if it were unreal +as a dream. +</p> + +<p> +She still recognised, however, the old, dark, oaken furniture—the +wardrobe, the chest and the chairs, with the shining edges of their elaborate +carvings. The bedstead alone—this great square, royal couch—seemed +new to her, as if she saw it for the first time, with its high columns +supporting its canopy of old-fashioned, rose-tinted cretonne, now bathed with +such a sheet of deep moonlight that she half thought she was on a cloud in the +midst of the heavens, borne along by a flight of silent, invisible wings. For a +moment she felt the full swinging of it; it did not seem at all strange or +unnatural to her. But her sight soon grew accustomed to the reality; her bed +was again in its usual corner, and she was in it, not moving her head, her eyes +alone turning from side to side, as she lay in the midst of this lake of +beaming rays, with the bouquet of violets upon her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Why was it that she was thus in a state of waiting? Why could she not sleep? +She was sure that she expected someone. That she had grown quite calm was a +sign that her hero was about to appear. This consoling light, which put to +flight the darkness of all bad dreams, announced his arrival. He was on his +way, and the moon, whose brightness almost equalled that of the sun, was simply +his forerunner. She must be ready to greet him. +</p> + +<p> +The chamber was as if hung with white velvet now, so they could see each other +well. Then she got up, dressed herself thoroughly, putting on a simple white +gown of foulard, the same she had worn the day of their excursion to the ruins +of Hautecœur. She did not braid her hair, but let it hang over her shoulders. +She put a pair of slippers upon her bare feet, and drawing an armchair in front +of the window, seated herself, and waited in patience. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique did not pretend to know how he would appear. Without doubt, he would +not come up the stairs, and it might be that she would simply see him over the +Clos-Marie, while she leaned from the balcony. Still, she kept her place on the +threshold of the window, as it seemed to her useless to go and watch for him +just yet. So vague was her idea of real life, so mystic was love, that she did +not understand in her imaginative nature why he might not pass through the +walls, like the saints in the legends. Why should not miracles come now, as in +the olden days, for had not all this been ordained from the beginning? +</p> + +<p> +Not for a moment did she think she was alone to receive him. No, indeed! She +felt as if she were surrounded by the crowd of virgins who had always been near +her, since her early youth. They entered on the rays of the moonlight, they +came from the great dark trees with their blue-green tops in the Bishop’s +garden, from the most intricate corners of the entanglement of the stone front +of the Cathedral. From all the familiar and beloved horizon of the Chevrotte, +from the willows, the grasses, and bushes, the young girl heard the dreams +which came back to her, the hopes, the desires, the visions, all that which she +had put of herself into inanimate objects as she saw them daily, and which they +now returned to her. Never had the voices of the Invisible unknown spoken so +clearly. She listened to them as they came from afar, recognising particularly +in this warm, beautiful night, so calm that there was not the slightest +movement in the air, the delicate sound which she was wont to call the +fluttering of the robe of Agnes, when her dear guardian angel came to her side. +She laughed quietly to know that she was now by her, and waiting with the +others who were near her. +</p> + +<p> +Time passed, but it did not seem long to Angelique. She was quite conscious of +what was passing around her. It appeared to her perfectly natural, and exactly +as it had been foretold, when at last she saw Felicien striding over the +balustrade of the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +His tall figure came out in full relief before the background of the white sky; +he did not approach the open window, but remained in its luminous shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be afraid. It is I. I have come to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +She was not in the slightest way alarmed; she simply thought that he was exact +to the hour of meeting, and said calmly: +</p> + +<p> +“You mounted by the timber framework, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by the framework.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea of this way made her laugh, and he himself was amused by it. He had in +fact pulled himself up by the pent-house shed; then, climbing along the +principal rafters from there, whose ends were supported by the string-course of +the first story, he had without difficulty reached the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +“I was expecting you. Will you not come nearer me?” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien, who had arrived in a state of anger, not knowing how he had dared to +come, but with many wild ideas in his head, did not move, so surprised and +delighted was he by this unexpected reception. As he had come at last, +Angelique was now certain that the saints did not prohibit her from loving, for +she heard them welcoming him with her by a laugh as delicate as a breath of the +night. Where in the world had she ever found so ridiculous an idea as to think +that Agnes would be angry with her! On the contrary, Agnes was radiant with a +joy that she felt as it descended on her shoulders and enveloped her like a +caress from two great wings. All those who had died for love showed great +compassion for youthful troubles, and only returned to earth on summer nights, +that, although invisible, they might watch those young hearts who were +sorrowful from affection. +</p> + +<p> +“But why do you not come to me? I was waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, hesitatingly, Felicien approached. He had been so excited, so carried +away by anger at her indifference, that he had said she should be made to love +him, and that, were it necessary, he would carry her away even against her +will. And lo! now finding her so gentle as he penetrated almost to the entrance +of this chamber, so pure and white, he became subdued at once, and as gentle +and submissive as a child. +</p> + +<p> +He took three steps forward. But he was afraid, and not daring to go farther, +he fell on his knees at the end of the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you but know,” he said, “the abominable tortures I +have passed through. I have never imagined a worse suffering. Really, the only +true grief is to think that you are not beloved by the person to whom you have +given your affection. I would willingly give up all else; would consent to be +poor, dying from hunger, or racked by pain; but I will not pass another day +with this terrible doubt gnawing at my heart, of thinking that you do not love +me. Be good, I pray you, and pity me.” +</p> + +<p> +She listened to him, silent, overcome with compassion, yet very happy withal. +</p> + +<p> +“This morning you sent me away in such a dreadful manner! I had fancied +to myself that you had changed your feelings towards me, and that, appreciating +my affection, you liked me better. But, alas! I found you exactly as you had +been on the first day, cold, indifferent, treating me as you would have done +any other simple customer who passed, recalling me harshly to the commonplaces +of life. On the stairway I staggered. Once outside, I ran, and was afraid I +might scream aloud. Then, the moment I reached home, it seemed to me I should +stifle were I to enter the house. So I rushed out into the fields, walking by +chance first on one side of the road and then on another. Evening came, and I +was still wandering up and down. But the torment of spirit moved faster than +ever and devoured me. When one is hopelessly in love, it is impossible to +escape from the pains accompanying one’s affection. Listen!” he +said, and he touched his breast; “it is here that you stabbed me, and the +point of the knife still continues to penetrate deeper and deeper.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave a long sigh at the keen recollection of his torture. +</p> + +<p> +“I found myself at last in a thicket, overcome by my distress, like a +tree that has been drawn up by the roots. To me, the only thing that existed in +life, in the future, was you. The thought that you might never be mine was more +than I could bear. Already my feet were so weary that they would no longer +support me. I felt that my hands were growing icy cold, and my head was filled +with the strangest fancies. And that is why I am here. I do not know at all how +I came, or where I found the necessary strength to bring me to you. You must +try to forgive me; but had I been forced to do so, I would have broken open +doors with my fists, I would have clambered up to this balcony in broad +daylight, for my will was no longer under my control, and I was quite wild. +Now, will you not pardon me?” +</p> + +<p> +She was a little in the shadow, and he, on his knees in the full moonlight, +could not see that she had grown very pale in her tender repentance, and was +too touched by his story to be able to speak. He thought that she was still +insensible to his pleadings, and he joined his hands together most +beseechingly. +</p> + +<p> +“All my interest in you commenced long ago. It was one night when I saw +you for the first time, here at your window. You were only a vague, white +shadow; I could scarcely distinguish one of your features, yet I saw you and +imagined you just as you are in reality. But I was timid and afraid, so for +several days I wandered about here, never daring to try to meet you in the open +day. And, in addition, since this is a confession, I must tell you everything; +you pleased me particularly in this half mystery; it would have disturbed me to +have you come out from it, for my great happiness was to dream of you as if you +were an apparition, or an unknown something to be worshipped from afar, without +ever hoping to become acquainted with you. Later on, I knew who you were, for +after all it is difficult to resist the temptation to know what may be the +realisation of one’s dream. It was then that my restlessness commenced. +It has increased at each meeting. Do you recollect the first time that we spoke +to each other in the field near by, on that forenoon when I was examining the +painted window? Never in my life did I feel so awkward as then, and it was not +strange that you ridiculed me so. Afterwards I frightened you, and realised +that I continued to be very unfortunate in following you, even in the visits +you made to the poor people. Already I ceased to be master of my own actions, +and did things that astonished me beyond measure, and which, under usual +circumstances, I would not have dared attempt. For instance, when I presented +myself here with the order for a mitre, I was pushed forward by an involuntary +force, as, personally, I dared not do it, knowing that I might make you angry. +But at present I cannot regain my old self, I can only obey my impulses. I know +that you do not like me, and yet, as you see, in spite of it all I have come +back to you, that I may hear you tell me so. If you would but try to understand +how miserable I am. Do not love me if it is not in your heart to do so. I must +accept my fate. But at least allow me to love you. Be as cold as you please, be +hateful if you will—I shall adore you whatever you may choose to be. I +only ask to be able to see you, even without any hope; merely for the joy of +living thus at your feet.” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien stopped, disheartened, losing all courage as he thought he would never +find any way of touching her heart. And he did not see that Angelique smiled, +half hidden as she was by the open window-sash. It was an invincible smile, +that, little by little, spread over her whole face. Ah! the dear fellow! How +simple and trusting he was as he outpoured the prayer of his heart, filled with +new longings and love, in bowing before her, as before the highest ideal of all +his youthful dreams. +</p> + +<p> +To think that she had ever been so foolish as at first to try to avoid all +meetings with him, and then, later on, had determined that although she could +not help loving him, he should never know it! Such folly on her part was quite +inexplicable. Since love is right, and is the fate of all, what good could be +gained by making martyrs of them both? +</p> + +<p> +A complete silence ensued, and in her enthusiastic, imaginative, nervous state, +she heard, louder than ever, in the quiet of the warm night, the voices of the +saints about her, who said love was never forbidden when it was so ardent and +true as this. Behind her back a bright flash of light had suddenly appeared; +scarcely a breath, but a delicate wave from the moon upon the chamber floor. An +invisible finger, no doubt that of her guardian angel, was placed upon her +mouth, as if to unseal her lips and relieve her from her vow. Henceforth she +could freely unburden herself and tell the truth. All that which was powerful +and tender in her surroundings now whispered to her words which seemed to come +from the infinite unknown. +</p> + +<p> +Then, at last, Angelique spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! yes, I recollect—I recollect it all.” +</p> + +<p> +And Felicien was at once carried away with delight by the music of this voice, +whose extreme charm was so great over him that his love seemed to increase +simply from listening to it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember well when you came in the night. You were so far away +those first evenings that the little sound you made in walking left me in quite +an uncertain state. At last I realised perfectly that it was you who approached +me, and a little later I recognised your shadow. At length, one evening you +showed yourself boldly, on a beautiful, bright night like this, in the full +white light of the moon. You came out so slowly from the inanimate objects near +you, like a creation from all the mysteries that surrounded me, exactly as I +had expected to see you for a long time, and punctual to the meeting. +</p> + +<p> +“I have never forgotten the great desire to laugh, which I kept back, but +which broke forth in spite of me, when you saved the linen that was being +carried away by the Chevrotte. I recollect my anger when you robbed me of my +poor people, by giving them so much money, and thus making me appear as a +miser. I can still recall my fear on the evening when you forced me to run so +fast through the grass with my bare feet. Oh, yes, I have not forgotten +anything—not the slightest thing.” +</p> + +<p> +At this last sentence her voice, pure and crystalline, was a little broken by +the thought of those magic words of the young man, the power of which she felt +so deeply when he said, “I love you,” and a deep blush passed over +her face. And he—he listened to her with delight. +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed true that I did wrong to tease you. When one is ignorant, +one is often so foolish. One does many things which seem necessary, simply from +the fear of being found fault with if following the impulses of the heart. But +my remorse for all this was deep, and my sufferings, in consequence, were as +great as yours. Were I to try to explain all this to you, it would be quite +impossible for me to do so. When you came to us with your drawing of Saint +Agnes, oh! I could have cried out, ‘Thank you, thank you!’ I was +perfectly enchanted to work for you, as I thought you would certainly make us a +daily visit. And yet, think of it! I pretended to be indifferent, as if I had +taken upon myself the task of doing all in my power to drive you from the +house. Has one ever the need of being willfully unhappy? Whilst in reality I +longed to welcome you and to receive you with open hands, there seemed to be in +the depths of my nature another woman than myself, who revolted, who was afraid +of and mistrusted you—whose delight it was to torture you with +uncertainty, in the vague idea of setting up a quarrel, the cause of which, in +a time long passed, had been quite forgotten. I am not always good; often in my +soul things seem to creep up that I cannot explain or account for. The worst of +it was that I dared to speak to you of money. Fancy it, then! Of money! I, who +have never thought of it, who would accept chariots of it, only for the +pleasure of making it rain down as I wished, among the needy! What a malicious +amusement I gave myself in this calumniating my character. Will you ever +forgive me?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +Felicien was at her feet. Until now he had kept his place in the remote corner +of the balcony. But in the intense happiness she gave him in thus unfolding the +innermost secrets of her soul he had drawn himself on his knees towards her, as +he approached the window. This great, illimitable joy was so unlooked for, that +he yielded to it in all the infinitude of its hopes of the future. +</p> + +<p> +He half whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear soul, pure, kind, and beautiful, your wonderful goodness has +cured me as with a breath! I know not now if I have ever suffered. And, in your +turn, you will now have to pardon me, for I have an acknowledgment to make to +you. I must tell you who I am.” +</p> + +<p> +He was troubled at the thought he could no longer disguise himself or his +position, since she had confided so freely and entirely in him. It would be +disloyal in the highest degree to do so. Yet he hesitated, lest he might, after +all, lose her, were she to be anxious about the future when at last she knew +the facts. +</p> + +<p> +And she waited for him to speak again, a little malicious in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +In a very low voice he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I have told a falsehood to your parents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know it,” she said as she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you do not know it; you could not possibly know it, for all that +happened too long ago. I only paint on glass for my own pleasure, and as a +simple amusement; you really ought to be told of that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a quick movement, she put her hand on his mouth, as if she wished to +prevent this explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not care to hear any more. I have been expecting you. I knew that +sooner or later you would come, and you have done so. That is +all-sufficient.” +</p> + +<p> +They talked no longer for a while. That little hand over his lips seemed almost +too great a happiness for him. +</p> + +<p> +“When the right time comes, then I shall know all. Yet I assure you that +I am ignorant of nothing connected with you, for everything had been revealed +to me before our first meeting. You were to be, and can be, only the +handsomest, the richest, and the most noble of men, the one above all others; +for that has ever been my dream, and in the sure certainty of its full +accomplishment I wait calmly. You are the chosen hero who it was ordained +should come, and I am yours.” +</p> + +<p> +A second time she interrupted herself in the tremor of the words she +pronounced. She did not appear to say them by herself alone; they came to her +as if sent by the beautiful night from the great white heavens, from the old +trees, and the aged stones sleeping outside and dreaming aloud the fancies of +the young girl. From behind her voices also whispered them to her, the voices +of her friends in the “Golden Legend,” with whom she had peopled +the air and the space around her. In this atmosphere she had ever +lived—mysticism, in which she revelled until it seemed fact on one side, +and the daily work of life on the other. Nothing seemed strange to her. +</p> + +<p> +Now but one word remained to be said—that which would express all the +long waiting, the slow creation of affection, the constantly increasing fever +of restlessness. It escaped from her lips like a cry from a distance, from the +white flight of a bird mounting upward in the light of the early dawn, in the +pure whiteness of the chamber behind her. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, her two hands spread out, bent forward towards Felicien. And he +recalled to himself the evening when she ran barefooted through the grass, +making so adorable a picture that he pursued her in order to stammer in her ear +these same words: “I love you.” He knew that now she was simply +replying to him with the same cry of affection, the eternal cry, which at last +came from her freely-opened heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I love you. I am yours. Lead the way, and I will follow you +wherever it may be.” +</p> + +<p> +In this surrender of her soul she gave herself to him fully and entirely. It +was the hereditary flame relighted within her—the pride and the passion +she thought had been conquered, but which awoke at the wish of her beloved. He +trembled before this innocence, so ardent and so ingenuous. He took her hands +gently, and crossed them upon her breast. For a moment he looked at her, +radiant with the intense happiness her confession had given him, unwilling to +wound her delicacy in the slightest degree, and not thinking of yielding to the +temptation of even kissing her hair. +</p> + +<p> +“You love me, and you know that I love you! Ah! what bliss there is in +such knowledge.” +</p> + +<p> +But they were suddenly drawn from their ecstatic state by a change about them. +What did it all mean? They realised that now they were looking at each other +under a great white light. It seemed to them as if the brightness of the moon +had been increased, and was as resplendent as that of the sun. It was in +reality the daybreak, a slight shade of which already tinged with purple the +tops of the elm-trees in the neighbouring gardens. What? It could not be +possible that the dawn had come? They were astonished by it, for they did not +realise so long a time had passed since they began to talk together on the +balcony. She had as yet told him nothing, and he had so many things he wished +to say! +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, stay one minute more, only one minute!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +The daylight advanced still faster—the smiling morning, already warm, of +what was to be a hot day in summer. One by one the stars were extinguished, and +with them fled the wandering visions, and all the host of invisible friends +seemed to mount upward and to glide away on the moon’s rays. +</p> + +<p> +Now, in the full, clear light, the room behind them had only its ordinary +whiteness of walls and ceiling, and seemed quite empty with its old-fashioned +furniture of dark oak. The velvet hangings were no longer there, and the +bedstead had resumed its original shape, as it stood half hidden by the falling +of one of its curtains. +</p> + +<p> +“Do stay! Let me be near you only one minute more!” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, having risen, refused, and begged Felicien to leave immediately. +Since the day had come, she had grown confused and anxious. The reality was now +here. At her right hand, she seemed to hear a delicate movement of wings, +whilst her hair was gently blown, although there was not the slightest breath +of wind. Was it not Saint Agnes, who, having remained until the last, was now +forced to leave, driven away by the sun? +</p> + +<p> +“No, leave me, I beg of you. I am unwilling you should stay +longer.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Felicien, obedient, withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +To know that he was beloved was enough for him, and satisfied him. Still, +before leaving the balcony, he turned, and looked at her again fixedly, as if +he wished to carry away with him an indelible remembrance of her. They both +smiled at each other as they stood thus, bathed with light, in this long +caressing look. +</p> + +<p> +At last he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +And she gently replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +That was all, and he had in a moment, with the agility of a bird, gone down the +woodwork of the corner of the building, while she, remaining on the balcony, +leaned on the balustrade and watched him, with her tender, beautiful eyes. She +had taken the bouquet of violets and breathed the perfume to cool her +feverishness. When, in crossing the Clos-Marie, he lifted his head, he saw that +she was kissing the flowers. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had Felicien disappeared behind the willows, when Angelique was +disturbed by hearing below the opening of the house-door. Four o’clock +had just struck, and no one was in the habit of getting up until two hours +later. Her surprise increased when she recognised Hubertine, as it was always +Hubert who went down the first. She saw her follow slowly the walks of the +narrow garden, her arms hanging listlessly at her sides, as if, after a +restless, sleepless night, a feeling of suffocating, a need of breathing the +fresh air, had made her leave her room so early. And Hubertine was really very +beautiful, with her clothes so hastily put on; and she seemed very +weary—happy, but in the deepest grief. +</p> + +<p> +The morning of the next day, on waking from a sound sleep of eight hours, one +of those sweet, deep, refreshing sleeps that come after some great happiness, +Angelique ran to her window. The sky was clear, the air pure, and the fine +weather had returned after a heavy shower of the previous evening. Delighted, +she called out joyously to Hubert, who was just opening the blinds below her: +</p> + +<p> +“Father! Father! Do look at the beautiful sunlight. Oh, how glad I am, +for the procession will be superb!” +</p> + +<p> +Dressing herself as quickly as possible, she hurried to go downstairs. It was +on that day, July 28, that the Procession of the Miracle would pass through the +streets of the upper town. Every summer at this date it was also a festival for +the embroiderers; all work was put aside, no needles were threaded, but the day +was passed in ornamenting the house, after a traditional arrangement that had +been transmitted from mother to daughter for four hundred years. +</p> + +<p> +All the while that she was taking her coffee, Angelique talked of the hangings. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, we must look at them at once, to see if they are in good +order.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have plenty of time before us, my dear,” replied Hubertine, in +her quiet way. “We shall not put them up until afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +The decorations in question consisted of three large panels of the most +admirable ancient embroidery, which the Huberts guarded with the greatest care +as a sacred family relic, and which they brought out once a year on the +occasion of the passing of this special procession. +</p> + +<p> +The previous evening, according to a time-honoured custom, the Master of the +Ceremonies, the good Abbé Cornille, had gone from door to door to notify the +inhabitants of the route which would be taken by the bearers of the statue of +Saint Agnes, accompanied by Monseigneur the Bishop, carrying the Holy +Sacrament. For more than five centuries this route had been the same. The +departure was made from the portal of Saint Agnes, then by the Rue des Orfèvres +to the Grand Rue, to the Rue Basse, and after having gone through the whole of +the lower town, it returned by the Rue Magloire and the Place du Cloître, to +reappear again at the great front entrance of the Church. And the dwellers on +all these streets, vying with each other in their zeal, decorated their +windows, hung upon their walls their richest possessions in silks, satins, +velvets, or tapestry, and strewed the pavements with flowers, particularly with +the leaves of roses and carnations. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique was very impatient until permission had been given her to take from +the drawers, where they had been quietly resting for the past twelve months, +the three pieces of embroidery. +</p> + +<p> +“They are in perfect order, mother. Nothing has happened to them,” +she said, as she looked at them, enraptured. +</p> + +<p> +She had with the greatest care removed the mass of silk paper that protected +them from the dust, and they now appeared in all their beauty. The three were +consecrated to Mary. The Blessed Virgin receiving the visit of the Angel of the +Annunciation; the Virgin Mother at the foot of the Cross; and the Assumption of +the Virgin. They were made in the fifteenth century, of brightly coloured silks +wrought on a golden background, and were wonderfully well preserved. The family +had always refused to sell them, although very large sums had been offered by +different churches, and they were justly proud of their possessions. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, dear, may I not hang them up to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +All these preparations required a great deal of time. Hubert was occupied the +whole forenoon in cleaning the front of the old building. He fastened a broom +to the end of a long stick, that he might dust all the wooden panels decorated +with bricks, as far as the framework of the roof; then with a sponge he washed +all the sub-basement of stone, and all the parts of the stairway tower that he +could reach. When that was finished, the three superb pieces of embroidery were +put in their places. Angelique attached them, by their rings, to venerable +nails that were in the walls; the Annunciation below the window at the left, +the Assumption below the window at the right, while for the Calvary, the nails +for that were above the great window of the first story, and she was obliged to +use a step-ladder that she might hang it there in its turn. She had already +embellished the window with flowers, so that the ancient dwelling seemed to +have gone back to the far-away time of its youth, with its embroideries of gold +and of silk glistening in the beautiful sunshine of this festive day. +</p> + +<p> +After the noon breakfast the activity increased in every direction, and the +whole Rue des Orfèvres was now in excitement. To avoid the great heat, the +procession would not move until five o’clock, but after twelve the town +began to be decorated. Opposite the Huberts’, the silversmith dressed his +shop with draperies of an exquisite light blue, bordered with a silver fringe; +while the wax-chandler, who was next to him, made use of his window-curtains of +red cotton, which looked more brilliant than ever in the broad light of day. At +each house there were different colours; a prodigality of stuffs, everything +that people owned, even to rugs of all descriptions, were blowing about in the +weary air of this hot summer afternoon. The street now seemed clothed, +sparkling, and almost trembling with gaiety, as if changed into a gallery of +fête open to the sky. All its inhabitants were rushing to and fro, pushing +against each other; speaking loud, as if in their own homes; some of them +carrying their arms full of objects, others climbing, driving nails, and +calling vociferously. In addition to all this was the <i>reposoir</i>, or +altar, that was being prepared at the corner of the Grand Rue, the arrangements +for which called for the services of all the women of the neighbourhood, who +eagerly offered their vases and candlesticks. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique ran down to carry the two candelabra, of the style of the Empire, +which they had on the mantel-shelf of their parlour. She had not taken a +moment’s rest since the early morning, but had shown no signs of fatigue, +being, on the contrary, supported and carried above herself by her great inward +happiness. And as she came back from her errand, her hair blown all about her +face by the wind, Hubert began to tease her as she seated herself to strip off +the leaves of the roses, and to put them in a great basket. +</p> + +<p> +“You could not do any more than you have done were it your wedding-day, +my dear. Is it, then, that you are really to be married now?” +</p> + +<p> +“But yes! oh, yes! Why not?” she answered gaily. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine smiled in her turn. +</p> + +<p> +“While waiting, my daughter, since the house is so satisfactorily +arranged, the best thing for us to do is to go upstairs and dress.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a minute, mother. Look at my full basket.” +</p> + +<p> +She had finished taking the leaves from the roses which she had reserved to +throw before Monseigneur. The petals rained from her slender fingers; the +basket was running over with its light, perfumed contents. Then, as she +disappeared on the narrow stairway of the tower, she said, while laughing +heartily: +</p> + +<p> +“We will be quick. I will make myself beautiful as a star!” +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon advanced. Now the feverish movement in Beaumont-l’Église +was calmed; a peculiar air of expectation seemed to fill the streets, which +were all ready, and where everyone spoke softly, in hushed, whispering voices. +The heat had diminished, as the sun’s rays grew oblique, and between the +houses, so closely pressed the one against the others, there fell from the pale +sky only a warm, fine shadow of a gentle, serene nature. The air of meditation +was profound, as if the old town had become simply a continuation of the +Cathedral; the only sound of carriages that could be heard came up from +Beaumont-la-Ville, the new town on the banks of the Ligneul, where many of the +factories were not closed, as the proprietors disdained taking part in this +ancient religious ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after four o’clock the great bell of the northern tower, the one +whose swinging stirred the house of the Huberts, began to ring; and it was at +that very moment that Hubertine and Angelique reappeared. The former had put on +a dress of pale buff linen, trimmed with a simple thread lace, but her figure +was so slight and youthful in its delicate roundness that she looked as if she +were the sister of her adopted daughter. Angelique wore her dress of white +foulard, with its soft ruchings at the neck and wrists, and nothing else; +neither earrings nor bracelets, only her bare wrists and throat, soft in their +satiny whiteness as they came out from the delicate material, light as the +opening of a flower. An invisible comb, put in place hastily, scarcely held the +curls of her golden hair, which was carelessly dressed. She was artless and +proud, of a most touching simplicity, and, indeed, “beautiful as a +star.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said, “the bell! That is to show that Monseigneur +has left his palace.” +</p> + +<p> +The bell continued to sound loud and clear in the great purity of the +atmosphere. The Huberts installed themselves at the wide-opened window of the +first story, the mother and daughter being in front, with their elbows resting +on the bar of support, and the husband and father standing behind them. These +were their accustomed places; they could not possibly have found better, as +they would be the very first to see the procession as it came from the farther +end of the church, without missing even a single candle of the marching-past. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my basket?” asked Angelique. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert was obliged to take and pass to her the basket of rose-leaves, which she +held between her arms, pressed against her breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that bell!” she at last murmured; “it seems as if it +would lull us to sleep!” +</p> + +<p> +And still the waiting continued in the little vibrating house, sonorous with +the musical movement; the street and the great square waited, subdued by this +great trembling, whist the hangings on every side blew about more quietly in +the air of the coming evening. The perfume of roses was very sweet. +</p> + +<p> +Another half-hour passed. Then at the same moment the two halves of the portal +of Saint Agnes were opened, and they perceived the very depths of the church, +dark in reality, but dotted with little bright spots from the tapers. First the +bearer of the Cross appeared, a sub-deacon in a tunic, accompanied by the +acolytes, each one of whom held a lighted candle in his hand. Behind them +hurried along the Master of the Ceremonies, the good Abbé Cornille, who after +having assured himself that everything was in perfect order in the street, +stopped under the porch, and assisted a moment at the passing out, in order to +be sure that the places assigned to each section had been rightly taken. The +various societies of laymen opened the march: the charitable associations, +schools, by rank of seniority, and numerous public organisations. There were a +great many children: little girls all in white, like brides, and little +bareheaded boys, with curly hair, dressed in their best, like princes, already +looking in every direction to find where their mothers were. A splendid fellow, +nine years of age, walked by himself in the middle, clad like Saint John the +Baptist, with a sheepskin over his thin, bare shoulders. Four little girls, +covered with pink ribbons, bore a shield on which was a sheaf of ripe wheat. +Then there were young girls grouped around a banner of the Blessed Virgin; +ladies in black, who also had their special banner of crimson silk, on which +was embroidered a portrait of Saint Joseph. There were other and still other +banners, in velvet or in satin, balanced at the end of gilded batons. The +brotherhoods of men were no less numerous; penitents of all colours, but +especially the grey penitents in dark linen suits, wearing cowls, and whose +emblems made a great sensation—a large cross, with a wheel, to which were +attached the instruments of the Passion. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique exclaimed with tenderness when the children came by: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the blessed darlings! Do look at them all!” +</p> + +<p> +One, no higher than a boot, scarcely three years of age, proudly tottered along +on his little feet, and looked so comical that she plunged her hands into her +basket and literally covered him with flowers. He quite disappeared under them +for an instant; he had roses in his hair and on his shoulders. The exquisite +little laughing shout he uttered was enjoyed on every side, and flowers rained +down from all the windows as the cherub passed. In the humming silence of the +street one could now only hear the deafened sound of the regular movement of +feet in the procession, while flowers by the handful still continued to fall +silently upon the pavement. Very soon there were heaps of them. +</p> + +<p> +But now, reassured upon the good order of the laymen, the Abbé Cornille grew +impatient and disturbed, inasmuch as the procession had been stationary for +nearly two minutes, and he walked quickly towards the head of it, bowing and +smiling at the Huberts as he passed. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened? What can prevent them from continuing?” said +Angelique, all feverish from excitement, as if she were waiting for some +expected happiness that was to come to her from the other end that was still in +the church. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine answered her gently, as usual: +</p> + +<p> +“There is no reason why they should run.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is some obstruction evidently; perhaps it is a <i>reposoir</i> +that is still unfinished,” Hubert added. +</p> + +<p> +The young girls of the Society of the Blessed Virgin, the “daughters of +Mary,” as they are called, had already commenced singing a canticle, and +their clear voices rose in the air, pure as crystal. Nearer and nearer the +double ranks caught the movement and recommenced their march. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +After the civilians, the clergy began to leave the church, the lower orders +coming first. All, in surplices, covered their heads with their caps, under the +porch; and each one held a large, lighted wax taper; those at the right in +their right hand, and those at the left in their left hand, outside the rank, +so there was a double row of flame, almost deadened by the brightness of the +day. First were representatives from the great seminaries, the parishes, and +then collegiate churches; then came the beneficed clergymen and clerks of the +Cathedral, followed by the canons in white pluvials. In their midst were the +choristers, in capes of red silk, who chanted the anthem in full voice, and to +whom all the clergy replied in lower notes. The hymn, “Pange +Lingua,” was grandly given. The street was now filled with a rustling of +muslin from the flying winged sleeves of the surplices, which seemed pierced +all over with tiny stars of pale gold from the flames of the candles. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” at last Angelique half sighed, “there is Saint +Agnes!” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at the saint, borne by four clerks in white surplices, on a platform +of white velvet heavily ornamented with lace. Each year it was like a new +surprise to her, as she saw her guardian angel thus brought out from the +shadows where she had been growing old for centuries, quite like another person +under the brilliant sunshine, as if she were timid and blushing in her robe of +long, golden hair. She was really so old, yet still very young, with her small +hands, her little slender feet, her delicate, girlish face, blackened by time. +</p> + +<p> +But Monseigneur was to follow her. Already the swinging of the censers could be +heard coming from the depths of the church. +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight murmuring of voices as Angelique repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, Monseigneur,” and with her eyes still upon the saint +who was going by, she recalled to mind at this moment the old histories. The +noble Marquesses d’Hautecœur delivering Beaumont from the plague, thanks +to the intervention of Agnes, then Jean V. and all those of his race coming to +kneel before her image, to pay their devotions to the saint, and she seemed to +see them all, the lords of the miracle, coming one by one like a line of +princes. +</p> + +<p> +A large space had been left empty. Then the chaplain charged with the care of +the crozier advanced, holding it erect, the curved part being towards him. +Afterward came two censer-bearers, who walked backwards and swung the censers +gently from side to side, each one having near him an acolyte charged with the +incense-box. There was a little difficulty before they succeeded in passing by +one of the divisions of the door the great canopy of royal scarlet velvet, +decorated with a heavy fringe of gold. But the delay was short, order was +quickly re-established, and the designated officials took the supports in hand. +Underneath, between his deacons of honour, Monseigneur walked, bareheaded, his +shoulders covered with a white scarf, the two ends of which enveloped his +hands, which bore the Holy Sacrament as high as possible, and without touching +it. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the incense-bearers resumed their places, and the censers sent out +in haste, fell back again in unison with the little silvery sound of their +chains. +</p> + +<p> +But Angelique started as she thought, where had she ever seen anyone who looked +like Monseigneur? She certainly knew his face before, but had never been struck +by it as to-day! All heads were bowed in solemn devotion. But she was so +uneasy, she simply bent down and looked at him. He was tall, slight, and +noble-looking; superb in his physical strength, notwithstanding his sixty +years. His eyes were piercing as those of an eagle; his nose, a little +prominent, only seemed to increase the sovereign authority of his face, which +was somewhat softened by his white hair, that was thick and curly. She noticed +the pallor of his complexion, and it seemed to her as if he suddenly flushed +from some unknown reason. Perhaps, however, it was simply a reflection from the +great golden-rayed sun which he carried in his covered hands, and which placed +him in a radiance of mystic light. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he to-day made her think of someone, but of whom? As soon as he left +the church, Monseigneur had commenced a psalm, which he recited in a low voice, +alternating the verses thereof with his deacons. And Angelique trembled when +she saw him turn his eyes towards their window, for he seemed to her so severe, +so haughty, and so cold, as if he were condemning the vanity of all earthly +affection. He turned his face towards the three bands of ancient +embroidery—Mary and the Angel, Mary at the foot of the Cross, Mary being +borne to Heaven—and his face brightened. Then he lowered his eyes and +fixed them upon her, but she was so disturbed she could not tell whether his +glance was harsh or gentle; at all events it was only for a moment, for quickly +regarding the Holy Sacrament, his expression was lost in the light which came +from the great golden vessel. The censers still swung back and forth with a +measured rhythm, while a little blue cloud mounted in the air. +</p> + +<p> +But Angelique’s heart now beat so rapidly she could scarcely keep still. +Behind the canopy she had just seen a chaplain, his fingers covered with a +scarf, who was carrying the mitre as devoutly as if it were a sacred object, +Saint Agnes flying heavenward with the two angels, the work of her hands, and +into each stitch of which she had put such deep love. Then, among the laymen +who followed, in the midst of functionaries, of officers, of magistrates, she +recognised Felicien in the front rank, slight and graceful, with his curly +hair, his rather large but straight nose, and his black eyes, the expression of +which was at the same time proud and gentle. She expected him; she was not at +all surprised to find him transformed into a prince; her heart simply was +overflowing with joy. To the anxious look which he gave her, as of imploring +forgiveness for his falsehood, she replied by a lovely smile. +</p> + +<p> +“But look!” exclaimed Hubertine, astonished at what she saw, +“is not that the young man who came to our house about the mitre?” +</p> + +<p> +She had also recognised him, and was much disturbed when, turning towards the +young girl, she saw the latter transfigured, in ecstacy, avoiding a reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Then he did not tell us the truth about himself? But why? Do you know +the reason? Tell me, my dear, do you know who this young man is?” +</p> + +<p> +Yes, perhaps in reality she did know. An inner voice answered all these +questions. But she dared not speak; she was unwilling to ask herself anything. +At the right time and at the proper place the truth would be made clear. She +thought it was approaching, and felt an increase of pride of spirit, and of +great love. +</p> + +<p> +“But what is it? What has happened?” asked Hubert, as he bent +forward and touched the shoulder of his wife. +</p> + +<p> +He was never present at the moment of an occurrence, but always appeared to +come from a reverie to the realisation of what passed about him. When the young +man was pointed out to him, he did not recognise him at all. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it he? I think not. No, you must be mistaken; it is not he.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Hubertine acknowledged that she was not quite sure. At all events, it was +as well to talk no more about it, but she would inform herself later on. But +the procession, which had stopped again in order that Monseigneur might incense +the Holy Sacrament, which was placed among the verdure of a temporary altar at +the corner of the street, was now about to move on again; and Angelique, whose +hands seemed lost in the basket on her lap, suddenly, in her delight and +confusion, made a quick movement, and carelessly threw out a great quantity of +the perfumed petals. At that instant Felicien approached. The leaves fell like +a little shower, and at last two of them fluttered, balanced themselves, then +quietly settled down on his hair. +</p> + +<p> +It was over. The canopy had disappeared round the corner of the Grand Rue, the +end of the cortege went by, leaving the pavements deserted, hushed as if +quieted by a dreamy faith, in the rather strong exhalation of crushed roses. +Yet one could still hear in the distance, growing weaker and weaker by degrees, +the silvery sound of the little chains of the swinging censers. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh mother!” said Angelique, pleadingly, “do let us go into +the church, so as to see them all as they come back.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine’s first impulse was to refuse. But she, for her own part, was +very anxious to ascertain what she could about Felicien, so she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, after a while, if you really wish to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +But they must, of course, wait a little. Angelique, after going to her room for +her hat, could not keep still. She returned every minute to the great window, +which was still wide open. She looked to the end of the street inquiringly, +then she lifted her eyes as if seeking something in space itself; and so +nervous was she that she spoke aloud, as she mentally followed the procession +step by step. +</p> + +<p> +“Now they are going down the Rue Basse. Ah! see, they must be turning on +the square before the Sous Prefecture. There is no end to all the long streets +in Beaumont-la-Ville. What pleasure can they take in seeing Saint Agnes, I +would like to know. All these petty tradesmen!” +</p> + +<p> +Above them, in the heavens, was a delicately rose-tinted cloud, with a band of +white and gold around it, and it seemed as if from it there came a devotional +peace and a hush of religious expectation. In the immobility of the air one +realised that all civil life was suspended, as if God had left His house, and +everyone was awaiting His return before resuming their daily occupations. +Opposite them the blue draperies of the silversmith, and the red curtains of +the wax-chandler, still barred the interior of their shops and hid the contents +from view. The streets seemed empty; there was no reverberation from one to the +other, except that of the slow march of the clergy, whose progress could easily +be realised from every corner of the town. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! mother! I assure you that now they are at the corner of the Rue +Magloire. They will soon come up the hill.” +</p> + +<p> +She was mistaken, for it was only half-past six, and the procession never came +back before a quarter-past seven. She should have known well, had she not been +over-impatient, that the canopy must be only at the lower wharf of the Ligneul. +But she was too excited to think. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! mother dear! <i>do</i> hurry, or we may not find any places.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, make haste then, little one,” at last Hubertine said, +smiling in spite of herself. “We shall certainly be obliged to wait a +great while, but never mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“As for me, I will remain at home,” said Hubert. “I can take +down and put away the embroidered panels, and then I will set the table for +dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +The church seemed empty to them, as the Blessed Sacrament was no longer there. +All the doors were wide open, like those of a house in complete disorder, where +one is awaiting the return of the master. Very few persons came in; the great +altar alone, a sarcophagus of severe Romanesque style, glittered as if burning +at the end of the nave, covered as it was with stars from the flame of many +candles; all the rest of the enormous building—the aisles, the chapels, +and the arches—seemed filled with shadow under the coming-on of the +evening darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, in order to gain a little patience, Angelique and Hubertine walked +round the edifice. Low down, it seemed as if crushed, thickset columns +supported the semicircular arches of the side-aisles. They walked the whole +length of the dark chapels, which were buried almost as if they were crypts. +Then, when they crossed over, before the great entrance portal, under the +triforium of the organ, they had a feeling of deliverance as they raised their +eyes towards the high, Gothic windows of the nave, which shot up so gracefully +above the heavy Romanesque coursed work. But they continued by the southern +side-aisle, and the feeling of suffocation returned again. At the cross of the +transept four enormous pillars made the four corners, and rose to a great +height, then struck off to support the roof. There was still to be found a +delicate purple-tinted light, the farewell of the day, through the rose windows +of the side fronts. They had crossed the three steps which led to the choir, +then they turned by the circumference of the apse, which was the very oldest +part of the building, and seemed most sepulchral. They stopped one moment and +leaned against the ancient grating, which entirely surrounded the choir, and +which was most elaborately wrought, that they might look at the flaming altar, +where each separate light was reflected in the old polished oak of the stalls, +most marvellous stalls, covered with rare sculptures. So at last they came back +to the point from which they started, lifting up their heads as if they +breathed more freely from the heights of the nave, which the growing shades at +night drove farther away, and enlarged the old walls, on which were faint +remains of paintings and of gold. +</p> + +<p> +“I know perfectly well that we are altogether too early,” said +Hubertine. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, without replying, said, as if to herself: +</p> + +<p> +“How grand it is!” +</p> + +<p> +It really seemed to her as if she had never known the church before, but that +she had just seen it for the first time. Her eyes wandered over the motionless +sea of chairs, then went to the depth of the chapels, where she could only +imagine were tombs and old funereal stones, on account of the increased +darkness therein. But she saw at last the Chapel Hautecœur, where she +recognised the window that had been repaired, with its Saint George, that now +looked vague as a dream, in the dusk. She was unusually happy. +</p> + +<p> +At last there was a gentle shaking through the whole building, and the great +clock struck. Then the bell began to ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! now,” she said, “look, for they are really coming up the +Rue Magloire.” +</p> + +<p> +This time it was indeed so. A crowd invaded the church, the aisles were soon +filled, and one realised that each minute the procession approached nearer and +nearer. The noise increased with the pealing of the bells, with a certain +rushing movement of air by the great entrance, the portal of which was wide +open. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, leaning on Hubertine’s shoulder, made herself as tall as +possible by standing upon the points of her feet, as she looked towards this +arched open space, the roundness of whose top was perfectly defined in the pale +twilight of the Place du Cloître. The first to appear was, of course, the +bearer of the Cross, accompanied by his two acolytes with their candelabra; and +behind them the Master of the Ceremonies hurried along—the good Abbé +Cornille, who now seemed quite out of breath and overcome by fatigue. At the +threshold of the door, the silhouette of each new arrival was thrown out for a +second, clear and strong, then passed quickly away in the darkness of the +interior. There were the laymen, the schools, the associations, the +fraternities, whose banners, like sails, wavered for an instant, then suddenly +vanished in the shade. One saw again the pale “daughters of Mary,” +who, as they entered, still sang with their voices like those of seraphim. +</p> + +<p> +The Cathedral had room for all. The nave was slowly filled, the men being at +the right and the women at the left. But night had come. The whole place +outside was dotted with bright points, hundreds of moving lights, and soon it +was the turn for the clergy, the tapers that were held outside the ranks making +a double yellow cord as they passed through the door. The tapers seemed endless +as they succeeded each other and multiplied themselves; the great seminary, the +parishes, and the Cathedral; the choristers still singing the anthem, and the +canons in their white pluvials. Then little by little the church became lighted +up, seemed inhabited, illuminated, overpowered by hundreds of stars, like a +summer sky. +</p> + +<p> +Two chairs being unoccupied, Angelique stood upon one of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Get down, my dear,” whispered Hubertine, “for that is +forbidden.” +</p> + +<p> +But she tranquilly remained there, and did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it forbidden? I must see, at all events. Oh! how exquisite all +this is!” +</p> + +<p> +At last she prevailed upon her mother to get upon the other chair. +</p> + +<p> +Now the whole Cathedral was glowing with a reddish yellow light. This billow of +candles which crossed it illuminated the lower arches of the side-aisles, the +depth of the chapels, and glittered upon the glass of some shrine or upon the +gold of some tabernacle. The rays even penetrated into the apse, and the +sepulchral crypts were brightened up by them. The choir was a mass of flame, +with its altar on fire, its glistening stalls, and its old railing, whose +ornamentation stood out boldly. And the flight of the nave was stronger marked +than ever, with the heavy curved pillars below, supporting the round arches, +while above, the numbers of little columns grew smaller and smaller as they +burst forth among the broken arches of the ogives, like an inexpressible +declaration of faith and love which seemed to come from the lights. In the +centre, under the roof, along the ribs of the nave, there was a yellow cloud, a +thick colour of wax, from the multitude of little tapers. +</p> + +<p> +But now, above the sound of feet and the moving of chairs, one heard again the +falling of the chains of the censers. Then the organ pealed forth majestically, +a glorious burst of music that filled to overflowing the highest arches as if +with the rumbling of thunder. It was at this instant that Monseigneur arrived +on the Place du Cloître. The statue of Saint Agnes had reached the apse, still +borne by the surpliced clerks, and her face looked very calm under the light, +as if she were more than happy to return to her dreams of four centuries. At +last, preceded by the crosier, and followed by the mitre, Monseigneur entered +with his deacons under the canopy, still having his two hands covered with a +white scarf, and holding the Blessed Sacrament in the same position as at +first. The canopy, which was borne down the central aisle, was stopped at the +railing of the choir, and there, on account of a certain unavoidable confusion, +the Bishop was for a moment made to approach the persons who formed his suite. +Since Felicien had reappeared, Angelique had looked at him constantly. It so +happened that on account of the pressure he was placed a little at the right of +the canopy, and at that moment she saw very near together the white head of +Monseigneur and the blonde head of the young man. That glance was a revelation; +a sudden light came to her eyes; she joined her hands together as she said +aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monseigneur, the son of Monseigneur!” +</p> + +<p> +Her secret escaped her. It was an involuntary cry, the certainty which revealed +itself in this sudden fact of their resemblance. Perhaps, in the depths of her +mind, she already knew it, but she would never have dared to have said so; +whilst now it was self-evident, a fact of which there could be no denial. From +everything around her, from her own soul, from inanimate objects, from past +recollections, her cry seemed repeated. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, quite overcome, said in a whisper, “This young man is the son +of Monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +Around these two the crowd had gradually accumulated. They were well known and +were greatly admired; the mother still adorable in her simple toilette of +linen, the daughter with the angelic grace of a cherubim, in her gown of white +foulard, as light as a feather. They were so handsome and in such full view, as +they stood upon their chairs, that from every direction eyes were turned +towards them, and admiring glances given them. +</p> + +<p> +“But yes, indeed, my good lady,” said the <i>mère</i> Lemballeuse, +who chanced to be in the group; “but yes, he is the son of Monseigneur. +But how does it happen that you have not already heard of it? And not only +that, but he is a wonderfully handsome young man, and so rich! Rich! Yes +indeed, he could buy the whole town if he wished to do so. He has millions and +millions!” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine turned very pale as she listened. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have heard his history spoken of?” continued the +beggar-woman. “His mother died soon after his birth, and it was on that +account that Monseigneur concluded to become a clergyman. Now, however, after +all these years, he sent for his son to join him. He is, in fact, Felicien VII +d’Hautecœur, with a title as if he were a real prince.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Hubertine was intensely grieved. But Angelique beamed with joy before the +commencement of the realisation of her dream. She was not in the slightest +degree astonished, for she had always known that he would be the richest, the +noblest, and the handsomest of men. So her joy was intense and perfect, without +the slightest anxiety for the future, or suspicion of any obstacle that could +possibly come between them. In short, he would in his turn now make himself +known, and would tell everything. As she had fancied, gold would stream down +with the little flickering flames of the candles. The organs would send forth +their most glorious music on the occasion of their betrothal. The line of the +Hautecœurs would continue royally from the beginning of the +legend—Norbert I., Jean V., Felicien III., Jean XII., then the last, Felicien +VII, who just turned towards her his noble face. He was the descendant of the +cousins of the Virgin, the master, the superb son, showing himself in all his +beauty at the side of his father. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Felicien smiled sweetly at her, and she did not see the angry look of +Monseigneur, who had remarked her standing on the chair, above the crowd, +blushing in her pride and love. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my poor dear child!” sighed Hubertine. +</p> + +<p> +But the chaplain and the acolytes were ranged on the right and the left, and +the first deacon having taken the Holy Sacrament from the hands of Monseigneur, +he placed it on the altar. It was the final Benediction—the <i>Tantum +ergo</i> sung loudly by the choristers, the incenses of the boxes burning in +the censers, the strange, brusque silence during the prayer—and in the +midst of the lighted church, overflowing with clergy and with people, under the +high, springing arches, Monseigneur remounted to the altar, took again in his +two hands the great golden sun, which he waved back and forth in the air three +times, with a slow sign of the Cross. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +That same evening, on returning from church, Angelique thought to herself, +“I shall see him again very soon, for he will certainly be in the +Clos-Marie, and I will go there to meet him.” +</p> + +<p> +Without having exchanged a word with each other, they appeared to have silently +arranged this interview. The family dined as usual in the kitchen, but it was +eight o’clock before they were seated at the table. Hubert, quite excited +by this day of recreation and of fête, was the only one who had anything to +say. Hubertine, unusually quiet, scarcely replied to her husband, but kept her +looks fixed upon the young girl, who ate heartily and with a good appetite, +although she scarcely seemed to pay any attention to the food, or to know that +she put her fork to her mouth, so absorbed was she by her fancies. And under +this candid forehead, as under the crystal of the purest water, Hubertine read +her thoughts clearly, and followed them as they formed themselves in her mind +one by one. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock they were greatly surprised by a ringing of the +door-bell. It proved to be the Abbé Cornille, who, notwithstanding his great +fatigue, had come to tell them that Monseigneur the Bishop had greatly admired +the three old panels of marvellous embroidery. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed! And he spoke of them so enthusiastically to me that I was +sure it would please you to know it.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique, who had roused up on hearing the name of Monseigneur, fell back +again into her reveries as soon as the conversation turned to the procession. +Then after a few minutes she got up. +</p> + +<p> +“But where are you going, dear?” asked Hubertine. +</p> + +<p> +The question startled her, as if she herself knew not why she had left her +seat. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason that +influenced her. It was the need of being by herself, the haste of communing +alone with her great happiness. +</p> + +<p> +When she held her in her arms pressed against her breast, she felt that she was +trembling. She almost seemed to avoid her usual evening kiss. Looking anxiously +in her face, Hubertine read in her eyes the feverish expectation connected with +the hoped-for meeting. It was all so evident to her that she promised herself +to keep a close watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Be good, dear, and sleep well.” +</p> + +<p> +But already, after a hurried good-night to Hubert and to the Abbé Cornille, +Angelique was halfway up the stairs, quite disturbed, as she realised that her +secret had almost escaped her. Had her mother held her against her heart one +second longer, she would have told her everything. When she had shut herself in +her own room, and doubly locked her door, the light troubled her, and she blew +out her candle. The moon, which rose later and later, had not yet appeared +above the horizon, and the night was very dark. Without undressing, she seated +herself before the open window, looked out into the deep shade, and waited +patiently for the hours to pass. The minutes went by rapidly, as she was fully +occupied with the one idea that as soon as the clock struck for midnight she +would go down to find Felicien. As it would be the most natural thing in the +world to do, she traced out her way, step by step, and every movement she would +make with the most perfect composure. +</p> + +<p> +It was not very late when she heard the Abbé Cornille take his leave. Soon +after, the Huberts, in their turn, came upstairs. Then it seemed to her as if +someone came out of their chamber, and with furtive steps moved cautiously as +far as the foot of the stairway, then stopped, as if listening for a moment +before returning. Then the house soon sank, as if in the quiet of a deep sleep. +</p> + +<p> +When the great church clock struck twelve, Angelique left her seat. “Now +I must go, for he is waiting for me.” She unlocked the door, and, passing +out, neglected closing it after her. Going down the first flight of stairs, she +stopped as she approached the room of the Huberts, but heard +nothing—nothing but the indefinable quivering of silence. Moreover, she +was neither in a hurry, nor had she any fear, for being totally unconscious of +any wrong intentions, she felt at perfect ease. It would have been quite +impossible for her not to have gone down. An inward power directed and led her, +and it all seemed so simple and right; she would have smiled at the idea of a +hidden danger. Once in the lower rooms, she passed through the kitchen to go +out into the garden, and again forgot to fasten the shutters. Then she walked +rapidly towards the little gate of the Clos-Marie, which she also left wide +open after her. Notwithstanding the obscurity and the dense shadows in the +field, she did not hesitate an instant, but went direct to the little plank +which served as a bridge to the Chevrotte, crossed it, guiding herself by +feeling the way, as if in a familiar place, where every tree and bush were well +known to her. Turning to the right, under a great willow-tree, she had only to +put out her hands to have them earnestly grasped by Felicien, whom she knew +would be there in waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +For a minute, without speaking, Angelique pressed Felicien’s hands in +hers. They could not see each other, for the sky was covered with a misty cloud +of heat, and the pale moon which had just risen, had not yet lighted it up. At +length she spoke in the darkness, her heart filled to overflowing with her +great happiness: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear seigneur, how I love you, and how grateful I am to +you!” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed aloud at the realisation of the fact that at last she knew him; she +thanked him for being younger, more beautiful, and richer even than she had +expected him to be. Her gaiety was charming; it was a cry of astonishment and +of gratitude before this present of love, this fulfillment of her dreams. +</p> + +<p> +“You are the king. You are my master; and lo! here am I, your slave. I +belong to you henceforth, and my only regret is that I am of so little worth. +But I am proud of being yours; it is sufficient for you to love me, and that I +may be in my turn a queen. It was indeed well that I knew you were to come, and +so waited for you; my heart is overflowing with joy since finding that you are +so great, so far above me. Ah! my dear seigneur, how I thank you, and how I +love you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gently he put his arm around her as he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Come and see where I live.” +</p> + +<p> +He made her cross the Clos-Marie, among the wild grass and herbs, and then she +understood for the first time in what way he had come every night into the +field from the park of the Bishop’s Palace. It was through an old gate, +that had been unused for a long time, and which this evening he had left half +open. Taking Angelique’s hand, he led her in that way into the great +garden of the Monseigneur. +</p> + +<p> +The rising moon was half-hidden in the sky, under a veil of warm mist, and its +rays fell down upon them with a white, mysterious light. There were no stars +visible, but the whole vault of heaven was filled with a dim lustre, which +quietly penetrated everything in this serene night. Slowly they walked along on +the borders of the Chevrotte, which crossed the park; but it was no longer the +rapid rivulet rushing over a pebbly descent—it was a quiet, languid +brook, gliding along through clumps of trees. Under this mass of luminous +vapour, between the bushes which seemed to bathe and float therein, it was like +an Elysian stream which unfolded itself before them. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique soon resumed her gay chattering. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so proud and so happy to be here on your arm.” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien, touched by such artless, frank simplicity, listened with delight as +she talked unrestrainedly, concealing nothing, but telling all her inmost +thoughts, as she opened her heart to him. Why should she even think of keeping +anything back? She had never harmed anyone, so she had only good things to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear child, it is I who ought to be exceedingly grateful to you, +inasmuch as you are willing to love me a little in so sweet a way. Tell me once +more how much you love me. Tell me exactly what you thought when you found out +at last who I really was.” +</p> + +<p> +But with a pretty, impatient movement she interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; let us talk of you, only of you. Am I really of any consequence? +At all events, what matters it who I am or what I think! For the moment you are +the only one of importance.” +</p> + +<p> +And keeping as near him as possible, going more slowly along the sides of the +enchanted river, she questioned him incessantly, wishing to learn everything +about him, of his childhood, his youth, and the twenty years he had passed away +from his father. “I already know that your mother died when you were an +infant, and that you grew up under the care of an uncle who is a clergyman. I +also know that Monseigneur refused to see you again.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Felicien answered, speaking in a very low tone, with a voice that seemed +as if it came from the far-away past. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my father idolised my mother, and it seemed to him as if I were +guilty, since my birth had cost her her life. My uncle brought me up in entire +ignorance of my family, harshly too, as if I had been a poor child confided to +his care. I had no idea of my true position until very recently. It is scarcely +two years, in fact, since it was revealed to me. But I was not at all surprised +in hearing the truth; it seemed as if I had always half-realised that a great +fortune belonged to me. All regular work wearied me; I was good for nothing +except to run about the fields and amuse myself. At last I took a great fancy +for the painted windows of our little church.” Angelique interrupted him +by laughing gaily, and he joined her in her mirth for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“I became a workman like yourself. I had fully decided to earn my living +by painting on glass, and was studying for that purpose, when all this fortune +poured down upon me. My father was intensely disappointed when my uncle wrote +him that I was a good-for-nothing fellow, and that I would never consent to +enter into the service of the Church. It had been his expressed wish that I +should become a clergyman; perhaps he had an idea that in so doing I could +atone for the death of my mother. He became, however, reconciled at last, and +wished for me to be here and remain near him. Ah! how good it is to live, +simply to live,” he exclaimed. “Yes, to live, to love, and to be +loved in return.” +</p> + +<p> +This trembling cry, which resounded in the clear night air, vibrated with the +earnest feeling of his healthy youth. It was full of passion, of sympathy for +his dead mother, and of the intense ardour he had thrown into this, his first +love, born of mystery. It filled all his spirit, his beauty, his loyalty, his +ignorance, and his earnest desire of life. +</p> + +<p> +“Like you,” he continued, “I was, indeed, expecting the +unknown, and the evening when you first appeared at the window I also +recognised you at once. Tell me all that you have ever thought, and what you +were in the habit of doing in the days that have passed.” But again she +refused, saying gently: +</p> + +<p> +“No; speak only of yourself. I am eager to know every petty incident of +your life, so please keep nothing back. In that way I shall realise that you +belong to me, and that I love you in the past as well as in the present.” +</p> + +<p> +She never would have been fatigued in listening to him as he talked of his +life, but was in a state of joyous ecstasy in thus becoming thoroughly +acquainted with him, adoring him like a little child at the feet of some saint. +Neither of them wearied of repeating the same things: how much they loved each +other and how dearly they were beloved in return. The same words returned +constantly to their lips, but they always seemed new, as they assumed +unforeseen, immeasurable depths of meaning. Their happiness increased as they +thus made known the secrets of their hearts, and lingered over the music of the +words that passed their lips. He confessed to her the charm her voice had +always been to him, so much so that as soon as he heard it he became at once +her devoted slave. She acknowledged the delicious fear she always had at seeing +his pale face flush at the slightest anger or displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +They had now left the misty banks of the Chevrotte, and arm-in-arm they entered +under the shadows of the great elm-trees. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! this beautiful garden,” whispered Angelique, happy to breathe +in the freshness which fell from the trees. “For years I have wished to +enter it; and now I am here with you—yes, I am here.” +</p> + +<p> +It did not occur to her to ask him where he was leading her, but she gave +herself up to his guidance, under the darkness of these centenarian trees. The +ground was soft under their feet; the archway of leaves above them was high, +like the vaulted ceiling of a church. There was neither sound nor breath, only +the beating of their own hearts. +</p> + +<p> +At length he pushed open the door of a little pavilion, and said to her: +“Go in; this is my home.” +</p> + +<p> +It was there that his father had seen fit to install him all by himself, in +this distant corner of the park. On the first floor there was a hall, and one +very large room, which was now lighted by a great lamp. Above was a complete +little apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“You can see for yourself,” he continued smilingly, “that you +are at the house of an artisan. This is my shop.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a working-room indeed; the caprice of a wealthy young man, who amused +himself in his leisure hours by painting on glass. He had re-found the ancient +methods of the thirteenth century, so that he could fancy himself as being one +of the primitive glass-workers, producing masterpieces with the poor, +unfinished means of the older time. An ancient table answered all his purposes. +It was coated with moist, powdered chalk, upon which he drew his designs in +red, and where he cut the panes with heated irons, disdaining the modern use of +a diamond point. The muffle, a little furnace made after the fashion of an old +model, was just now quite heated; the baking of some picture was going on, +which was to be used in repairing another stained window in the Cathedral; and +in cases on every side were glasses of all colours which he had ordered to be +made expressly for him, in blue, yellow, green, and red, in many lighter tints, +marbled, smoked, shaded, pearl-coloured, and black. But the walls of the room +were hung with admirable stuffs, and the working materials disappeared in the +midst of a marvellous luxury of furniture. In one corner, on an old tabernacle +which served as a pedestal, a great gilded statue of the Blessed Virgin seemed +to smile upon them. +</p> + +<p> +“So you can work—you really can work,” repeated Angelique +with childish joy. +</p> + +<p> +She was very much amused with the little furnace, and insisted upon it that he +should explain to her everything connected with his labour. Why he contented +himself with the examples of the old masters, who used glass coloured in the +making, which he shaded simply with black; the reason he limited himself to +little, distinct figures, to the gestures and draperies of which he gave a +decided character; his ideas upon the art of the glass-workers, which in +reality declined as soon as they began to design better, to paint, and to +enamel it; and his final opinion that a stained-glass window should be simply a +transparent mosaic, in which the brightest colours should be arranged in the +most harmonious order, so as to make a delicate, shaded bouquet. But at this +moment little did she care for the art in itself. These things had but one +interest for her now—that they were connected with him, that they seemed +to bring her nearer to him and to strengthen the tie between them. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she exclaimed, “how happy we shall be together. You +will paint, while I embroider.” +</p> + +<p> +He had just retaken her hands, in the centre of this great room, in the luxury +of which she was quite at her ease, as it seemed to be her natural surrounding, +where her grace would be fully developed. Both of them remained silent for a +moment. Then she was, as usual, the first to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Now everything is decided upon, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” he smilingly asked, “what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated an instant. His face, which had been very pale, flushed quickly. +She was disturbed at such a change. +</p> + +<p> +“Have I made you angry in any way?” +</p> + +<p> +But he had already conquered himself, and pressed her hands tenderly, with a +grasp that seemed to cover everything. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is decided upon, and it is sufficient for you to wish for a +thing that it should be done, no matter how many obstacles may oppose it. +Henceforward my one great desire in life will be to obey you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then her face beamed with perfect happiness and delight. +</p> + +<p> +She did not have a single doubt. All seemed to her quite natural, to be so +well-arranged that it could be finished on the morrow with the same ease as in +many of the miracles of the “Golden Legend.” The idea never +occurred to her that there should be the slightest hindrance or the least +delay. Since they really loved each other, why should they be any longer +separated? It was the most simple thing in the world for two persons who loved +each other to be married. She was so secure in her happiness that she was +perfectly calm. +</p> + +<p> +“Since it is agreed upon,” she said jokingly, “give me your +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her little hand and kissed it, as he said: +</p> + +<p> +“It is all arranged.” +</p> + +<p> +She then hastened to go away, in the fear of being surprised by the dawn, and +also impatient to relieve her mind of her secret. He wished to accompany her. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she replied. “We should not get back before +daylight. I can easily find the way. Good-bye until to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Until to-morrow, then.” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien obeyed, and watched Angelique as she ran, first under the shady elms, +then along the banks of the Chevrotte, which were now bathed in light. Soon she +closed the gate of the park, then darted across the Clos-Marie, through the +high grass. While on her way, she thought it would be impossible to wait until +sunrise, but that she would rap at the door of the Huberts’ room as soon +as she reached home, that she might wake them up and tell them everything. She +was in such an expansion of happiness, such a turmoil of sincerity, that she +realised that she was incapable of keeping five minutes longer this great +secret which had been hers for so long a time. She entered into their garden +and closed the gate. +</p> + +<p> +And there, near the Cathedral, Angelique saw Hubertine, who waited for her in +the night, seated upon the stone bench, which was surrounded by a small cluster +of lilac-bushes. Awakened, warned by some inexpressible feeling, she had gone +upstairs, then down again, and on finding all the doors open, that of the +chamber as well as that of the house, she had understood what had happened. So, +uncertain what it was best to do, or where to go, in the fear lest she might +aggravate matters, she sat down anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique immediately ran to her, without embarrassment, kissed her repeatedly, +her heart beating with joy as she laughed merrily at the thought that she had +no longer need of hiding anything from her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mother mine, everything is arranged! We are to be married very soon, +and I am so happy.” +</p> + +<p> +Before replying, Hubertine examined her closely. But her fears vanished +instantly before the limpid eyes and the pure lips of this exquisite young +girl. Yet she was deeply troubled, and great tears rolled down her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor, dear child,” she whispered, as she had done the previous +evening in church. +</p> + +<p> +Astonished to see her in such a way, she who was always so equable, who never +wept, Angelique exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the matter, mother? It is, indeed, true that I have not done +right, inasmuch as I have not made you my confidante. But you would pardon me +if you knew how much I have suffered from it, and how keen my remorse has been. +Since at first I did not speak, later on I did not dare to break the silence. +Will you forgive me?” +</p> + +<p> +She had seated herself near her mother, and had placed her arm caressingly +around her waist. The old bench seemed almost hidden in this moss-covered +corner of the Cathedral. Above their heads the lilacs made a little shade, +while near them was the bush of eglantine which the young girl had set out in +the hope that it might bear roses; but, having been neglected for some time, it +simply vegetated, and had returned to its natural state. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, let me tell you everything now. Come, listen to me, +please.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +Then, in a low tone, Angelique began her story. She related in a flow of +inexhaustible words all that had happened, calling up the most minute details, +growing more and more excited at the recollection of them. She omitted nothing, +but searched her memory as if it were for a confession. She was not at all +embarrassed, although her cheeks grew very red and her eyes sparkled with +flashes of pride; yet she did not raise her voice, but continued to talk +earnestly in a half-whisper. +</p> + +<p> +At length Hubertine interrupted her, speaking also very low: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear! Now you are too excited. You have indeed to correct +yourself, for you are carried away by your feelings, as if by a great wind. Ah, +my vain, my headstrong child, you are always the same little girl who refused +to wash up the kitchen floor, and who kissed her own hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique could not prevent herself from laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“No, do not laugh. It may be that by-and-by you will not have tears +enough to weep. My poor darling, this marriage can never take place.” +</p> + +<p> +Again her gaiety burst out in a long musical laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“But mother, mother, what are you saying? Do you wish to punish me by +teasing me? It is a very simple matter. This evening Felicien is to talk of it +with his father. To-morrow he will come to arrange everything with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Could it be true that she believed all this? Hubertine was distressed, and knew +not what to do. At last she concluded it was best to be pitiless and tell her; +that it would be impossible for a little embroiderer without money and without +name to marry Felicien d’Hautecœur. A young man who was worth so many +millions! The last descendant of one of the oldest families of France! No, that +could never be. +</p> + +<p> +But at each new obstacle Angelique tranquilly replied: “But why +not?” It would be a real scandal, a marriage beyond all ordinary +conditions of happiness. Did she hope, then, to contend against all the world? +“But why not?” Monseigneur is called very strict and very haughty, +proud of his name, and severe in his criticisms in regard to all marks of +affection. Could she dare to expect to bend him? +</p> + +<p> +“But why not?” And, unshakable in her faith, in her firm, ingenuous +manner she said: “It is very odd, dear mother, that you should think +people all so bad! Especially when I have just assured you that everything is +well under way, and is sure to come out all right. Do you not recollect that +only two months ago you scolded me, and ridiculed my plans? Yet I was right, +and everything that I expected has come to pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, unhappy child, wait for the end!” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine now thought of the past, and was angry with herself, as she now +reflected, more bitterly than ever before, that Angelique had been brought up +in such ignorance. Again she predicted to her the hard lessons of the reality +of life, and she would have liked to have explained to her some of the +cruelties and abominations of the world, but, greatly embarrassed, she could +not find the necessary words. What a grief it would be to her if some day she +were forced to accuse herself of having brought about the unhappiness of this +child, who had been kept alone as a recluse, and allowed to dwell in the +continued falsehood of imagination and dreams! +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me, dearest. You certainly would not wish to marry this young +man against the wish of us all, and without the consent of his father?” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had grown very serious. She looked her mother in the face, and in a +serious tone replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I not do so? I love him, and he loves me.” +</p> + +<p> +With a pang of anguish, Hubertine took her again in her arms, clasped her +tenderly, but convulsively, and looked at her earnestly, but without speaking. +The pale moon had disappeared from sight behind the Cathedral, and the flying, +misty clouds were now delicately coloured in the heavens by the approach of the +dawn. They were both of them enveloped in this purity of the early morn, in the +great fresh silence, which was alone disturbed by the little chirping of the +just-awakening birds. +</p> + +<p> +“But alas! my dear child, happiness is only found in obedience and in +humility. For one little hour of passion, or of pride, we sometimes are obliged +to suffer all our lives. If you wish to be contented on this earth, be +submissive, be ready to renounce and give up everything.” +</p> + +<p> +But feeling that she was still rebellious under her embrace, that which she had +never said to anyone, that which she still hesitated to speak of, almost +involuntarily escaped from her lips: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me once more, my dear child. You think that we are happy, do +you not, your father and I. We should indeed be so had not our lives been +embittered by a great vexation.” +</p> + +<p> +She lowered her voice still more, as she related with a trembling breath their +history. The marriage without the consent of her mother, the death of their +infant, and their vain desire to have another child, which was evidently the +punishment of their fault. Still, they adored each other. They had lived by +working, had wanted for nothing; but their regret for the child they had lost +was so ever-present that they would have been wretchedly unhappy, would have +quarrelled, and perhaps even have been separated, had it not been that her +husband was so thoroughly good, while for herself she had always tried to be +just and reasonable. +</p> + +<p> +“Reflect, my daughter. Do not put any stumbling-block in your path which +will make you suffer later on. Be humble, obey, check the impulse of your heart +as much as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +Subdued at last, Angelique restrained her tears, but grew very pale as she +listened, and interrupted her by saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, you pain me terribly. I love him, and I am sure that he loves +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she allowed her tears to flow. She was quite overcome by all she had +listened to, softened, and with an expression in her eyes as if deeply wounded +by the glimpse given her of the probable truth of the case. Yet she could +suffer, and would willingly die, if need be, for her love. +</p> + +<p> +Then Hubertine decided to continue. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to pain you too deeply at once, yet it is absolutely +necessary that you should know the whole truth. Last evening, after you had +gone upstairs, I had quite a talk with the Abbé Cornille, and he explained to +me why Monseigneur, after great hesitation, had at last decided to call his son +to Beaumont. One of his greatest troubles was the impetuosity of the young man, +the uncontrollable haste which he manifested to plunge into the excitement of +life, without listening to the advice of his elders. After having with pain +renounced all hope of making him a priest, his father found that he could not +establish him in any occupation suitable to his rank and his fortune. He would +never be anything but a headstrong fellow, restless, wandering, yielding to his +artistic tastes when so inclined. He was alarmed at seeing in his son traits of +character like those from which he himself had so cruelly suffered. At last, +from fear that he might take some foolish step, and fall in love with someone +beneath him in position, he wished to have him here, that he might be married +at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Angelique, who did not yet understand. +</p> + +<p> +“Such a marriage had been proposed even before his arrival, and all +preliminaries were settled yesterday, so that the Abbé Cornille formally +announced that in the autumn Felicien would wed Mademoiselle Claire de +Voincourt. You know very well the Hotel de Voincourt there, close to the +Bishop’s Palace. The family are very intimate with Monseigneur. On both +sides, nothing better could be hoped for, either in the way of name or of +fortune. The Abbé himself highly approves of the union.” +</p> + +<p> +The young girl no longer listened to these reasons of the fitness of things. +Suddenly an image appeared to come before her eyes—that of Claire. She +saw her, as she had occasionally had a glimpse of her in the alleys of the Park +during the winter, or as she had seen her on fête days in the Cathedral. A tall +young lady, a brunette, very handsome, of a much more striking beauty than her +own, and with a royal bearing and appearance. Notwithstanding her haughty air, +she was said to be very good and kind. +</p> + +<p> +“So he is to marry this elegant young lady, who is not only beautiful but +very rich,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as if suddenly pierced by a sharp agony, she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“He uttered a falsehood! He did not tell me this!” +</p> + +<p> +She recollected now the momentary hesitation of Felicien, the rush of blood +which had coloured his cheeks when she spoke to him of their marriage. The +shock was so great that she turned deadly pale, and her head fell heavily on +her mother’s shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling, my dear darling! This is, indeed, a cruel thing; I know it +well. But it would have been still worse had you waited. Take courage, then, +and draw at once the knife from the wound. Repeat to yourself, whenever the +thought of this young man comes to you, that never would Monseigneur, the +terrible Jean XII., whose intractable pride, it appears, is still recollected by +all the world, give his son, the last of his race, to a little embroiderer, +found under a gateway and adopted by poor people like ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +In her weakness, Angelique heard all this without making any objection. What +was it she felt pass over her face? A cold breath coming from a distance, from +far above the roofs of the houses, seemed to freeze her blood. Was it true that +her mother was telling her of this misery of the world, this sad reality, in +the same way that parents relate the story of the wolf to unreasonable +children? She would never forget the shock and the grief of this first +experience of a bitter disappointment. Yet, however, she already excused +Felicien. He had told no falsehood; he simply had been silent. Were his father +to wish him to marry this young girl, no doubt he would refuse to do so. But as +yet he had not dared to rebel. As he had not said anything to her of the +matter, perhaps it was because he had just made up his mind as to what it was +best for him to do. Before this sudden vanishing away of her air-castles, pale +and weak from the rude touch of the actual life, she still kept her faith, and +trusted, in spite of all, in the future realisation of her dream. Eventually +the fair promises for the future would come to pass, even although now her +pride was crushed and she sank down into a state of humiliation and +resignation. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, it is true I have done wrong, but I will never sin again. I +promise you that I will be patient, and submit myself without a murmur of +revolt to whatever Heaven wishes me to be.” +</p> + +<p> +It was true grace which spoke within her. The trial was great, but she was able +to conquer, from the effects of the education she had received and the +excellent example of the home life in which she had grown up. Why should she +doubt the morrow, when until this present moment everyone near her had been so +generous and so tender towards her? She prayed that she might be able to have +the wisdom of Catherine, the meekness of Elizabeth, the chastity of Agnes; and +re-comforted by the aid of the saints, she was sure that they alone would help +her to triumph over every trouble. Was it not true that her old friends the +Cathedral, the Clos-Marie, and the Chevrotte, the little fresh house of the +Huberts, the Huberts themselves, all who loved her, would defend her, without +her being obliged to do anything, except to be obedient and good? +</p> + +<p> +“Then, dear child, you promise me that you will never act contrary to our +wishes, and above all against those of Monseigneur?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, mother, I promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“You also promise me not to see this young man again, and no longer to +indulge in the foolish idea of marrying him?” +</p> + +<p> +At this question her courage failed her. She almost felt the spirit of +rebellion rise again within her, as she thought of the depth of her love. But +in a moment she bowed her head and was definitely conquered. +</p> + +<p> +“I promise to do nothing to bring about a meeting with him, and to take +no steps towards our marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, touched to the heart, pressed the young girl most affectionately in +her arms as she thanked her for her obedience. Oh! what a dreadful thing it +was, when wishing to do good to the child she so tenderly loved, she was forced +to make her suffer so intensely. She was exhausted, and rose up hastily, +surprised that daylight had come. The little cry of the birds had increased in +every direction, although as yet none were to be seen in flight. In the sky the +clouds, delicate as gauze, seemed to float away in the limpid blueness of the +atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +Then Angelique, whose look had mechanically fallen upon her wild rose-bush, at +last noticed it with its puny leaves. She smiled sadly as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“You were right, mother dear; it will never be in blossom.” +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock in the morning Angelique was at her work as usual. The +days followed each other, and every forenoon found her seated before the +chasuble she had left on the previous evening. Nothing appeared to be changed +outwardly; she kept strictly her promise, shut herself up, and made no attempt +whatever to see Felicien. This did not seem to depress her at all, but she kept +her bright, youthful look, smiling sweetly at Hubertine when occasionally she +saw her eyes fixed upon her as if astonished. However, in this enforced silence +she thought only of him; he was always in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +Her hope remained firm, and she was sure that in spite of all obstacles +everything would come out all right in the end. In fact, it was this feeling of +certainty that gave her such an air of courage, of haughty rectitude, and of +justice. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert from time to time scolded her. +</p> + +<p> +“You are over-doing, my dear; you are really growing pale. I hope at +least that you sleep well at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, father! Like a log! Never in my life did I feel better than +now.” +</p> + +<p> +But Hubertine, becoming anxious in her turn, proposed that they should take a +little vacation, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“If you would like it, my child, we will shut up the house, and we will +go, all three of us, to Paris for a while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! mother mine, of what are you thinking? What would become of all our +orders for work? You know I am never in better health than when closely +occupied.” +</p> + +<p> +In reality, Angelique simply awaited a miracle, some manifestation of the +Invisible which would give her to Felicien. In addition to the fact that she +had promised to do nothing, what need was there of her striving, since in the +beyond some unknown power was always working for her? So, in her voluntary +inaction, while feigning indifference, she was continually on the watch, +listening to the voices of all that quivered around her, and to the little +familiar sounds of this circle in which she lived and which would assuredly +help her. Something must eventually come from necessity. As she leaned over her +embroidery-frame, not far from the open window, she lost not a trembling of the +leaves, not a murmur of the Chevrotte. The slightest sighs from the Cathedral +came to her, magnified tenfold by the eagerness of her attention; she even +heard the slippers of the beadle as he walked round the altar when putting out +the tapers. Again at her side she felt the light touch of mysterious wings; she +knew that she was aided by the unknown, and at times she even turned suddenly, +thinking that a phantom had whispered in her ear the way of gaining the +hoped-for victory. But days passed and no change came. +</p> + +<p> +At night, that she need not break her word, Angelique at first did not go out +upon the balcony, for fear of being tempted to rejoin Felicien, were she to see +him below her. She remained quietly waiting in her chamber. Then, as the leaves +even scarcely stirred, but seemed to sleep, she ventured out, and began to +question the dark shadows as before. +</p> + +<p> +From whence would the miracle come? Without doubt, in the Bishop’s garden +would be seen a flaming hand, which would beckon to her to approach. +</p> + +<p> +Or, perhaps, the sign would appear in the Cathedral, the great organs of which +would peal forth, and would call her to the altar. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing would have surprised her: neither the doves of the “Golden +Legend” bringing the words of benediction, nor the intervention of +saints, who would enter through the walls, to tell her that Monseigneur wished +to see her. The only thing at which she wondered was the slowness of the +working of the marvel. Like the day, the nights succeeded nights, yet nothing, +nothing manifested itself. +</p> + +<p> +At the close of the second week, that which astonished Angelique above all was +that she had not seen Felicien. She, it was true, had pledged herself to take +no steps towards meeting him, yet, without having said so to anyone, she +thought he would do all in his power to find her. But the Clos-Marie remained +deserted, and he no longer walked among the wild grasses therein. Not once +during the past fortnight had she had a glimpse of him by day, or even seen his +shadow in the evening. Still her faith remained unshaken; that he did not come +was simply that he was occupied in making his preparations to rejoin her. +However, as her surprise increased there was at length mingled with it a +beginning of anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +At last, one evening the dinner was sad at the embroiderer’s, and as soon +as it was over Hubert went out, under the pretext of having an important +commission to attend to, so Hubertine remained alone with Angelique in the +kitchen. She looked at her for a long time with moistened eyes, touched by such +courage. During the past fortnight not one word had been exchanged between them +in reference to those things with which their hearts were full, and she was +deeply moved by the strength of character and loyalty her daughter displayed in +thus keeping her promise. A sudden feeling of deep tenderness made her open her +arms, and the young girl threw herself upon her breast, and in silence they +clasped each other in a loving embrace. +</p> + +<p> +Then, when Hubertine was able to speak, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! my poor child, I have been impatient to be alone with you, for you +must know that now all is at an end; yes, quite at an end.” +</p> + +<p> +Startled, Angelique rose quickly, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“What! Is Felicien dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! oh no!” +</p> + +<p> +“If he will never come again, it is only that he is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +So Hubertine was obliged to explain to her that the day after the procession +she had been to see him, and had made him also promise that he would keep way +from them until he had the full authorisation of Monseigneur to do otherwise. +It was thus a definite leave-taking, for she knew a marriage would be utterly +impossible. She had made him almost distracted as she explained to him how +wrongly he had done in thus compromising a young, ignorant, confiding child, +whom he would not be allowed to make his wife; and then he had assured her, +that if he could not see her again, he would die from grief, rather than be +disloyal. +</p> + +<p> +That same evening he confessed everything to his father. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, my dear,” continued Hubertine, “you are so +courageous that I can repeat to you all I know without hesitation. Oh! if you +realised, my darling, how I pity you, and what admiration I have for you since +I have found you so strong, so brave in keeping silent and in appearing gay +when your heart was heavily burdened. But you will have need of even more +firmness; yes, much more, my dear. This afternoon I have seen the Abbé +Cornille, and he gives me no encouragement whatever. Monseigneur refuses to +listen to the subject, so there is no more hope.” +</p> + +<p> +She expected a flood of fears, and she was astonished to see her daughter +reseat herself tranquilly, although she had turned very pale. The old oaken +table had been cleared, and a lamp lighted up this ancient servants’ +hall, the quiet of which was only disturbed by the humming of the boiler. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, dear, the end has not yet come. Tell me everything, I beg of +you. Have I not a right to know all, since I am the one above all others most +deeply interested in the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +And she listened attentively to what Hubertine thought best to tell her of what +she had learned from the Abbé, keeping back only certain details of the life +which was as yet an unknown thing to this innocent child. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p> +Since the return of his son to him Monseigneur’s days had been full of +trouble. After having banished him from his presence almost immediately upon +the death of his wife, and remaining without seeing him for twenty years, lo! +he had now come back to him in the plenitude and lustre of youth, the living +portrait of the one he had so mourned, with the same delicate grace and beauty. +This long exile, this resentment against a child whose life had cost that of +the mother, was also an act of prudence. He realised it doubly now, and +regretted that he had changed his determination of not seeing him again. Age, +twenty years of prayer, his life as clergyman, had not subdued the unregenerate +man within him. It was simply necessary that this son of his, this child of the +wife he had so adored, should appear with his laughing blue eyes, to make the +blood circulate so rapidly in his veins as if it would burst them, as he seemed +to think that the dead had been brought to life again. He struck his breast, he +sobbed bitterly in penitence, as he remembered that the joys of married life +and the ties springing therefrom were prohibited to the priesthood. The good +Abbé Cornille had spoken of all this to Hubertine in a low voice and with +trembling lips. Mysterious sounds had been heard, and it was whispered that +Monseigneur shut himself up after twilight, and passed nights of combat, of +tears and of cries, the violence of which, although partly stifled by the +hangings of his room, yet frightened the members of his household. He thought +that he had forgotten; that he had conquered passion; but it reappeared with +the violence of a tempest, reminding him of the terrible man he had been +formerly—the bold adventurer, the descendant of brave, legendary +chieftains. Each evening on his knees he flayed his skin with haircloth, he +tried to banish the phantom of the regretted wife by calling from its coffin +the skeleton which must now be there. But she constantly appeared before him, +living, in the delicious freshness of youth, such as she was when very young he +had first met her and loved her with the devoted affection of maturity. The +torture then recommenced as keen and intense as on the day after her death: he +mourned her, he longed for her with the same revolt against God Who had taken +her from him; he was unable to calm himself until the break of day, when quite +exhausted by contempt of himself and disgust of all the world. Oh! Divine love! +When he went out of his room Monseigneur resumed his severe attitude, his +expression was calm and haughty, and his face was only slightly pale. The +morning when Felicien had made his confession he listened to him without +interruption, controlling himself with so great an effort that not a fibre of +his body quivered, and he looked earnestly at him, distressed beyond measure to +see him, so young, so handsome, so eager, and so like himself in this folly of +impetuous love. It was no longer with bitterness, but it was his absolute will, +his hard duty to save his son from the ills which had caused him so much +suffering, and he would destroy the passion in his child as he wished to kill +it in himself. This romantic history ended by giving him great anxiety. Could +it be true that a poor girl—a child without a name, a little embroiderer, +first seen under a pale ray of moonlight, had been transfigured into a delicate +Virgin of the Legends, and adored with a fervent love as if in a dream? At each +new acknowledgment he thought his anger was increased, as his heart beat with +such an inordinate emotion, and he redoubled his attempts at self-control, +knowing not what cry might come to his lips. He had finished by replying with a +single word, “Never!” Then Felicien threw himself on his knees +before him, implored him, and pleaded his cause as well as that of Angelique, +in the trembling of respect and of terror with which the sight of his father +always filled him. Until then he had approached him only with fear. He besought +him not to oppose his happiness, without even daring to lift his eyes towards +his saintly personage. With a submissive voice he offered to go away, no matter +where; to leave all his great fortune to the Church, and to take his wife so +far from there that they would never be seen again. He only wished to love and +to be loved, unknown. Monseigneur shook from trembling as he repeated severely +the word, “Never!” He had pledged himself to the Voincourts, and he +would never break his engagement with them. Then Felicien, quite discouraged, +realising that he was very angry, went away, fearing lest the rush of blood, +which empurpled his cheeks, might make him commit the sacrilege of an open +revolt against paternal authority. +</p> + +<p> +“My child,” concluded Hubertine, “you can easily understand +that you must no longer think of this young man, for you certainly would not +wish to act in opposition to the wishes of Monseigneur. I knew that beforehand, +but I preferred that the facts should speak for themselves, and that no +obstacle should appear to come from me.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had listened to all this calmly, with her hands listlessly clasped in +her lap. Scarcely had she even dropped her eyelids from time to time, as with +fixed looks she saw the scene so vividly described—Felicien at the feet +of Monseigneur, speaking of her in an overflow of tenderness. She did not +answer immediately, but continued to think seriously, in the dead quiet of the +kitchen, where even the little bubbling sound of the water in the boiler was no +longer heard. She lowered her eyes and looked as her hands, which, under the +lamplight, seemed as if made of beautiful ivory. Then, while the smile of +perfect confidence came back to her lips, she said simply: +</p> + +<p> +“If Monseigneur refuses, it is because he waits to know me.” +</p> + +<p> +That night Angelique slept but little. The idea that to see her would enable at +once Monseigneur to decide in her favor haunted her. There was in it no +personal, feminine vanity, but she was under the influence of a deep, intense +love, and her true affection for Felicien was so evident, she was sure that +when his father realised it he could not be so obstinate as to make them both +unhappy. Many times she turned restlessly in her bed as she pictured what would +happen. Before her closed eyes Monseigneur constantly passed in his +violet-coloured robe. Perhaps it was, indeed, through him, and by him, that the +expected miracle was to appear. The warm night was sleeping without, and she +eagerly listened for the voices, trying to know what the trees, the Chevrotte, +the Cathedral, her chamber itself, peopled with such friendly shadows, advised +her to do. But there was only an indistinct humming, and nothing precise came +to her. It seemed, however, as if mysterious whispers encouraged her to +persevere. At last she grew impatient of these too slow certitudes, and as she +fell asleep she surprised herself by saying: +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow I will speak to Monseigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +When she awoke, her proposed plan seemed not only quite natural but necessary. +It was ingenuous and brave; born of a proud and great purity. +</p> + +<p> +She knew that at five o’clock on every Saturday afternoon Monseigneur +went to kneel in the Chapel Hautecœur, where he liked to pray alone, giving +himself up entirely to the past of his race and to himself, seeking a solitude +which was respected by all connected with the Cathedral. As it fortunately +happened, this was a Saturday. She quickly came to a decision. At the +Bishop’s Palace, not only would she be apt to find it difficult to be +received, but, on the other hand, there were always so many people about she +would be ill at ease; whilst it would be so simple to await him in the chapel, +and to introduce herself to Monseigneur as soon as he appeared. That day she +embroidered with her usual application and composure. Firm in her wish, sure of +doing the right thing, she had no impatient fever of expectation. When it was +four o’clock she spoke of going to see the <i>mère</i> Gabet, and went +out, dressed as for an ordinary walk, wearing her little garden-hat tied +carelessly under her chin. She turned to the left, and pushing open the linted, +stuffed door of the portal of Saint Agnes, let it fall back heavily behind her. +</p> + +<p> +The church was empty; alone, the confessional of Saint Joseph was still +occupied by a penitent, the edge of whose black dress was just seen as one +passed. Angelique, who had been perfectly self-possessed until now, began to +tremble as she entered this sacred, cold solitude, where even the little sound +of her steps seemed to echo terribly. Why was it that her heart grew so +oppressed? She had thought she was quite strong, and the day had passed most +peacefully—she was so sure of being right in her desire to be happy. But +now that she was ignorant of what might happen she turned pale as if guilty, +quite frightened at thinking that she was to see Monseigneur, and that in truth +she had come there expressly to speak to him. She went quietly to the Chapel +Hautecœur, where she was obliged to remain leaning against the gate. +</p> + +<p> +This chapel was one of the most sunken and dark of the old Romanesque apse. +Like a cave hewn in a rock, straight and bare, with the simple lines of its +low, vaulted ceiling, it had but one window, that of stained glass, on which +was the Legend of St. George, and in whose panes the red and blue so +predominated that they made a lilac-coloured light, as if it were twilight. The +altar, in black and white marble, was unornamented, and the whole place, with +its picture of the Crucifixion, and its two chandeliers, seemed like a tomb. +The walls were covered with commemorative tablets, a collection from top to +bottom of stones crumbling from age, on which the deeply-cut inscriptions could +still be read. +</p> + +<p> +Almost stifled, Angelique waited, motionless. A beadle passed, who did not even +see her, so closely had she pressed herself against the interior of the iron +railing. She still saw the dress of the penitent who was at the confessional +near the entrance. Her eyes, gradually accustomed to the half-light, were +mechanically fixed upon the inscriptions, the characters of which she ended by +deciphering. Certain names struck her, calling back to her memory the legends +of the Château d’Hautecœur, of Jean V. le Grand, of Raoul III., and of +Hervé VII.. +</p> + +<p> +She soon found two others, those of Laurette and of Balbine, which brought +tears to her eyes, so nervous was she from trouble and anxiety—Laurette, +who fell from a ray of moonlight, on her way to rejoin her betrothed, and +Balbine, who died from sudden joy at the return of her husband, whom she +thought had been killed in the war. They both of them came back at night and +enveloped the Castle with their immense, flowing white robes. Had she not seen +them herself the day of their visit to the ruins, as they floated, towards +evening, above the towers in the rosy pallor of the dusk? Ah! how willingly she +would die as they did, although but sixteen years of age, in the supreme +happiness of the realisation of her dream! +</p> + +<p> +A loud noise which reverberated under the arches made her tremble. It was the +priest who came out from the confessional of Saint Joseph and shut the door +after him. She was surprised at no longer seeing the penitent, who had already +gone. And when in his turn the clergyman went out by way of the sacristy, she +realised that she was absolutely alone in the vast solitude of the Cathedral. +At the loud sound of the door of the confessional, as it creaked on its hinges, +she thought that Monseigneur was coming. It was nearly half an hour since she +had expected him, yet she did not realise it, for her excitement prevented her +from taking any note of time. +</p> + +<p> +Soon a new name drew her eyes towards the tablets—Felicien III., who went +to Palestine, carrying a candle in his hand, to fulfil a vow of Philippe le +Bel. And her heart beat with pride as she saw before her, mentally, the +youthful Felicien VII, the descendant of all these worthies, the fair-haired +nobleman whom she adored, and by whom she was so tenderly loved. She suddenly +became filled with pride and fear. Was it possible that she herself was there, +in the expectation of bringing about a prodigy? Opposite her there was a +fresher plaque of marble, dating from the last century, the black letters upon +which she could easily read. Norbert Louis Ogier, Marquis d’Hautecœur, +Prince of Mirande and of Rouvres, Count of Ferrières, of Montegu and of Saint +Marc, and also of Villemareuil, Chevalier of the four Royal Orders of Saint +Esprit, Saint Michel, Notre Dame de Carmel and Saint Louis, Lieutenant in the +Army of the King, Governor of Normandy, holding office as Captain-General of +the Hunting, and Master of the Hounds. All these were the titles of +Felicien’s grandfather, and yet she had come, so simple, with her +working-dress and her fingers worn by the needle, in hopes of marrying the +grandson of this dead dignitary! +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight sound, scarcely a rustling, on the flagstones. She turned +and saw Monseigneur, and remained motionless at this silent approach without +the pomp and surroundings she had vaguely expected. He entered into the chapel, +tall, erect, and noble-looking, dressed in purple, with his pale face, his +rather large nose, and his superb eyes, which still seemed youthful in their +expression. At first he did not notice her against the black gate. Then, as he +was about to kneel down, he saw her before him at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +With trembling limbs, overcome by respect and fear, Angelique had fallen upon +her knees. He seemed to her at this moment like the Eternal Father, terrible in +aspect and absolute master of her destiny. But her heart was still courageous, +and she spoke at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monseigneur, I have come——” +</p> + +<p> +As for the Bishop, he had risen immediately. He had a vague recollection of +her; the young girl, seen first at her window on the day of the procession, and +re-found a little later standing on a chair in the church; this little +embroiderer, with whom his son was so desperately in love. He uttered no word, +he made no gesture. He waited, stern and stiff. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monseigneur, I have come on purpose that you may see me. You have, +it is true, refused to accept me, but you do not know me. And now, here I am. +Please look at me before you repel me again. I am the one who loves, and am +also beloved, and that is all. Nothing beyond this affection. Nothing but a +poor child, found at the door of this church. You see me at your feet, little, +weak, and humble. If I trouble you it will be very easy for you to send me +away. You have only to lift your little finger to crush me. But think of my +tears! Were you to know how I have suffered, you would be compassionate. I +wished, Monseigneur, to plead my cause in my turn. I love, and that is why I +kneel before you, to tell you so. I am ignorant in many ways; I only know I +love. All my strength and all my pride is centred in that fact. Is not that +sufficient? It certainly makes one great and good to be able to say that one +really loves.” +</p> + +<p> +She continued with sighs, and in broken phrases, to confess everything to him, +in an unaffected outpouring of ardent feeling. It was a true affection that +thus acknowledged itself. She dared to do so because she was innocent and pure. +Little by little she raised her head. +</p> + +<p> +“We love each other, Monseigneur. Without doubt he has already told you +how all this came to pass. As for me, I have often asked myself the question +without being able to reply to it. But we love each other, and if it is a crime +to do so, pardon it, I beseech you, for it came from afar, from everything in +short that surrounded us. When I realised that I loved him, it was already too +late to prevent it. Now, is it possible to be angry on that account? You can +keep him with you, make him marry some other person, but you cannot prevent him +from giving me his heart. He will die without me, as I shall if obliged to part +from him. When he is not by my side I feel that he is really near me, and that +we will never be entirely separated, since we carry each other’s life +with us. I have only to close my eyes to re-see him when I wish, so firmly is +his image impressed upon my soul. Our whole natures are thus closely united for +life. And could you wish to draw us away from this union? Oh! Monseigneur, it +is divine; do not try to prevent us loving each other!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her in her simple working-dress, so fresh, so unpretending, and +attractive. He listened to her as she repeated the canticle of their love in a +voice that both fascinated and troubled him, and which grew stronger by +degrees. But as her garden-hat fell upon her shoulders, her exquisite hair +seemed to make a halo around her head of fine gold, and she appeared to him, +indeed, like one of those legendary virgins of the old prayer-books, so frail +was she, so primitive, so absorbed in her deep feeling of intense and pure +affection. +</p> + +<p> +“Be good, be merciful, Monseigneur. You are the master. Do allow us to be +happy!” +</p> + +<p> +She implored him, and finding that he remained unmoved, without speaking, she +again bowed down her head. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! this unhappy child at his feet; this odour of youth that came up from the +sweet figure thus bent before him! There he saw, as it were again, the +beautiful light locks he had so fondly caressed in the days gone by. She, whose +memory still distressed him after twenty years of penitence, had the same fresh +youthfulness, the same proud expression, and the same lily-like grace. She had +re-appeared; it was she herself who now sobbed and besought him to be tender +and merciful. +</p> + +<p> +Tears had come to Angelique, yet she continued to outpour her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“And, Monseigneur, it is not only that I love him, but I also love the +nobility of his name, the lustre of his royal fortune. Yes, I know well that +being nothing, that having nothing, it seems as if I were only desirous of his +money. In a way, it is true it is also for his wealth that I wish to marry him. +I tell you this because it is necessary that you should know me thoroughly. Ah! +to become rich by him and with him, to owe all my happiness to him, to live in +the sweetness and splendour of luxury, to be free in our loving home, and to +have no more sorrow, no misery around us! That is my ideal! Since he has loved +me I fancy myself dressed in heavy brocades, as ladies wore in olden days; I +have on my arms and around my neck strings of pearls and precious stones; I +have horses and carriages; groves in which I take long walks, followed by +pages. Whenever I think of him my dream recommences, and I say to myself, +‘This must all come to pass, for it perfects my desire to become a +queen.’ Is it, then, Monseigneur, a bad thing to love him more because he +can gratify all my childish wishing by showering down miraculous floods of gold +upon me as in fairy-tales?” +</p> + +<p> +He saw then that she rose up proudly, with a charming, stately air of a true +princess, in spite of her real simplicity. And she was always exactly like the +fair maiden of other years, with the same flower-like delicacy, the same tender +tears, clear as smiles. A species of intoxication came from her, the warm +breath of which mounted to his face—the same shadow of a remembrance +which made him at night throw himself on his devotional chair, sobbing so +deeply that he disturbed the sacred silence of the Palace. Until three +o’clock in the morning of this same day he had contended with himself +again, and this long history of love, this story of passion, would only revive +and excite his incurable wound. But behind his impassiveness nothing was seen, +nothing betrayed his effort at self-control and his attempt to conquer the +beating of his heart. Were he to lose his life’s blood, drop by drop, no +one should see it flow, and he now simply became paler, was silent and +immovable. +</p> + +<p> +At last this great persistent silence made Angelique desperate, and she +redoubled her prayers. +</p> + +<p> +“I put myself in your hands, Monseigneur. Do with me whatever you think +best; but have pity when deciding my fate.” +</p> + +<p> +Still, as he continued silent, he terrified her, and seemed to grow taller than +ever as he stood before her in his fearful majesty. The deserted Cathedral, +whose aisles were already dark, with its high vaulted arches where the daylight +seemed dying, made the agony of this silence still harder to bear. In the +chapel, where the commemorative slabs could no longer be seen, there remained +only the Bishop in his purple cassock, that now looked black, and his long +white face, which alone seemed to have absorbed all the light. She saw his +bright eyes fixed upon her with an ever-increasing depth of expression, and +shrunk from them, wondering if it were possible that anger made them shine in +so strange a way. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur, had I not come to-day, I should have eternally reproached +myself for having brought about the unhappiness of us both from my want of +courage. Tell me then, oh, tell me that I was right in doing so, and that you +will give us your consent!” +</p> + +<p> +What use would there be in discussing the matter with this child? He had +already given his son the reasons for his refusal, and that was all-sufficient. +That he had not yet spoken was only because he thought he had nothing to say. +She, no doubt, understood him, and she seemed to wish to raise herself up that +she might be able to kiss his hands. But he threw them behind him violently, +and she was startled at seeing his white face become suddenly crimson, from a +rush of blood to his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Monseigneur! Monseigneur!” +</p> + +<p> +At last he opened his lips, to say to her just one word, the same he had said +to his son: +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” +</p> + +<p> +And without remaining to pray that day, as was his wont, he left the chapel, +and with slow steps soon disappeared behind the pillars of the apse. +</p> + +<p> +Falling on the flagstones, Angelique wept for a long time, sobbing deeply in +the great peaceful silence of the empty church. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p> +That same evening in the kitchen, after they left the dinner-table, Angelique +confessed everything to Hubert, telling him of her interview with the Bishop, +and of the latter’s refusal. She was very pale, but not at all excited. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert was quite overcome. What? Could it be possible that his dear child +already suffered? That she also had been so deeply wounded in her affections? +His eyes were filled with tears from his sympathy with her, as they were both +of that excessively sensitive nature that at the least breath they were carried +away by their imaginations. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! my poor darling, why did you not consult me? I would willingly have +accompanied you, and perhaps I might have persuaded Monseigneur to yield to +your prayers.” +</p> + +<p> +With a look Hubertine stopped him. He was really unreasonable. Was it not much +better to seize this occasion to put an end at once to all ideas of a marriage +which would be impossible? She took the young girl in her arms, and tenderly +kissed her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, now it is ended, my dear child; all ended?” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique at first did not appear to understand what was said to her. Soon the +words returned to her as if from a distance. She looked fixedly before her, +seeming anxious to question the empty space, and at last she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt, mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, on the morrow she seated herself at the work-frame and embroidered as +she was wont to do. She took up her usual routine of daily work, and did not +appear to suffer. Moreover, no allusion was made to the past; she no longer +looked from time to time out of the window into the garden, and gradually +losing her paleness, the natural colour came back to her cheeks. The sacrifice +appeared to have been accomplished. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert himself thought it was so, and, convinced of the wisdom of Hubertine, +did all in his power to keep Felicien at a distance. The latter, not daring to +openly revolt against his father, grew feverishly impatient, to such a degree +that he almost broke the promise he had made to wait quietly without trying to +see Angelique again. He wrote to her, and the letters were intercepted. He even +went to the house one morning, but it was Hubert alone who received him. Their +explanatory conversation saddened them both to an equal degree, so much did the +young man appear to suffer when the embroiderer told him of his +daughter’s calmness and her air of forgetfulness. He besought him to be +loyal, and go to away, that he might not again throw the child into the fearful +trouble of the last few weeks. +</p> + +<p> +Felicien again pledged himself to be patient, but he violently refused to take +back his word, for he was still hopeful that he might persuade his father in +the end. He could wait; he would let affairs remain in their present state with +the Voincourts, where he dined twice a week, doing so simply to avoid a direct +act of open rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +And as he left the house he besought Hubert to explain to Angelique why he had +consented to the torment of not seeing her for the moment; he thought only of +her, and the sole aim of everything he did was to gain her at last. +</p> + +<p> +When her husband repeated this conversation to her, Hubertine grew very +serious. Then, after a short silence, she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you tell our daughter what he asked you to say to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +She was again silent, but finally added: +</p> + +<p> +“Act according to your conscience. But he is now under a delusion. He +will eventually be obliged to yield to his father’s wishes, and then our +poor, dear little girl will die in consequence.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, overcome with grief, hesitated. But after contending with himself, he +concluded to repeat nothing. Moreover, he became a little reassured each day +when his wife called his attention to Angelique’s tranquil appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“You see well that the wound is healing. She is learning to +forget.” +</p> + +<p> +But she did not forget; she also was simply waiting. All hope of human aid +having died within her, she now had returned to the idea of some wonderful +prodigy. There would surely be one, if God wished her to be happy. She had only +to give herself up entirely into His hands; she believed that this new trial +had been sent to her as a punishment for having attempted to force His will in +intruding upon Monseigneur. Without true grace mankind was weak, and incapable +of success. Her need of that grace made her humble, bringing to her as an only +hope the aid of the Invisible; so that she gave up acting for herself, but left +everything to the mysterious forces which surrounded her. Each evening at +lamplight she recommenced her reading of the “Golden Legend,” being +as delighted with it as when she was a young child. She doubted none of the +miracles related therein, being convinced that the power of the Unknown is +without limit for the triumph of pure souls. +</p> + +<p> +Just at this time the upholsterer of the Cathedral ordered of the Huberts a +panel of the very richest embroidery for the throne of Monseigneur the Bishop. +This panel, one yard and a half in width and three yards in length, was to be +set in old carved wood, and on it were to be represented two angels of +life-size, holding a crown, on which were to be the arms of the Hautecœurs. It +was necessary that the embroidery should be in bas-relief, a work which not +only required great artistic knowledge, but also needed physical strength, to +be well done. When proposed to the Huberts, they at first declined the offer, +being not only fearful of fatiguing Angelique, but especially dreading that she +would be saddened by the remembrances which would be brought to her mind as she +wrought thread after thread during the several weeks. But she insisted upon +accepting the command, and every morning applied herself to her task with an +extraordinary energy. It seemed as if she found her happiness in tiring +herself, and that she needed to be physically exhausted in order to be calm. +</p> + +<p> +So in the old workroom life continued in the same regular way, as if their +hearts had not even for a moment beaten more quickly than usual. Whilst Hubert +occupied himself with arranging the frames, or drew the patterns, or stretched +or relaxed the materials, Hubertine helped Angelique, both of them having their +hands terribly tired and bruised when evening came. For the angels and the +ornaments it had been necessary at the beginning to divide each subject into +several parts, which were treated separately. In order to perfect the most +salient points, Angelique first took spools of coarse unbleached thread, which +she re-covered with the strong thread of Brittany in a contrary direction; and +as the need came, making use of a heavy pair of shears, as well as of a +roughing-chisel, she modelled these threads, shaped the drapery of the angels, +and detached the details of the ornaments. In all this there was a real work of +sculpture. At last, when the desired form was obtained, with the aid of +Hubertine she threw on masses of gold thread, which she fastened down with +little stitches of silk. Thus there was a bas-relief of gold, incomparably soft +and bright, shining like a sun in the centre of this dark, smoky room. The old +tools were arranged in the same lines as they had been for centuries—the +punches, the awls, the mallets, and the hammers; on the work-frame the little +donkey waste-basket and the tinsel, the thimbles and the needles, moved up and +down as usual, while in the different corners, where they ended by growing +rusty, the diligent, the hand spinning-wheel, and the reel for winding, seemed +to sleep in the peaceful quiet which entered through the open window. +</p> + +<p> +Days passed. Angelique broke many needles between morning and evening, so +difficult was it to sew down the gold, through the thickness of the waxed +threads. To have seen her, one would have said she was so thoroughly absorbed +by her hard work that she could think of nothing else. At nine o’clock +she was exhausted by fatigue, and, going to bed, she sank at once into a heavy, +dreamless sleep. When her embroidery gave her mind a moment’s leisure, +she was astonished not to see Felicien. Although she took no step towards +seeking him, it seemed to her that he ought to have tried every possible way to +come to her. Yet she approved of his wisdom in acting as he did, and would have +scolded him had he tried to hasten matters. No doubt he also looked for +something supernatural to happen. It was this expectation upon which she now +lived, thinking each night that it would certainly come on the morrow. Until +now she had never rebelled. Still, at times she lifted up her head inquiringly, +as if asking “What! Has nothing yet come to pass?” And then she +pricked her finger so deeply that her hand bled, and she was obliged to take +the pincers to draw the needle out. When her needle would break with a sharp +little sound, as if of glass, she did not even make a movement of impatience. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine was very anxious on seeing her apply herself so desperately to her +work, and as the time for the great washing had come again, she forced her to +leave her panel of embroidery, that she might have four good days of active +outdoor life in the broad sunlight. The <i>mère</i> Gabet, now free of her +rheumatism, was able to help in the soaping and rinsing. It was a regular fête +in the Clos-Marie, these last August days, in which the weather was splendid, +the sky almost cloudless, while a delicious fragrance came up from the +Chevrotte, the water of which as it passed under the willows was almost icy +cold. The first day Angelique was very gay, as she beat the linen after +plunging it in the stream; enjoying to the full the river, the elms, the old +ruined mill, the wild herbs, and all those friendly surroundings, so filled +with pleasant memories. Was it not there she had become acquainted with +Felicien, who under the moonlight had at first seemed so mysterious a being, +and who, later on, had been so adorably awkward the morning when he ran after +the dressing-sacque that was being carried away by the current? As she rinsed +each article, she could not refrain from glancing at the gateway of the +Bishop’s garden, which until recently had been nailed up. One evening she +had passed through it on his arm, and who could tell but he might suddenly now +open it and come to take her as she applied herself to her work in the midst of +the frothy foam that at times almost covered her. +</p> + +<p> +But the next day, as the <i>mère</i> Gabet brought the last barrow of linen, +which she spread out on the grass with Angelique, she interrupted her +interminable chattering upon the gossip of the neighbourhood to say +maliciously: +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, you know that Monseigneur is to marry his son?” +</p> + +<p> +The young girl, who was just smoothing out a sheet, knelt down in the grass, +her strength leaving her all at once, from the rudeness of the shock. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, everyone is talking of it. The son of Monseigneur will in the +autumn marry Mademoiselle de Voincourt. It seems that everything was decided +upon and arranged yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +She remained on her knees, as a flood of confused ideas passed through her +brain, and a strange humming was in her ears. She was not at all surprised at +the news, and she realised it must be true. Her mother had already warned her, +so she ought to have been prepared for it. She did not yet even doubt +Felicien’s love for her, as that was her faith and her strength. But at +the present moment, that which weakened her so greatly and excited her to the +very depths of her being was the thought that, trembling before the commands of +his father, he could at last yield from weariness, and consent to wed one whom +he did not love. Then he would be lost to her whom he really adored. Never had +she thought such an act on his part possible; but now she saw him obliged by +his filial duty and his sense of obedience to make them both unhappy for ever. +Still motionless, her eyes fixed upon the little gate, she at last revolted +against the facts, feeling as if she must go and shake the bars, force them +open with her hands, run to Felicien, and, aiding him by her own courage, +persuade him not to yield. She was surprised to hear herself reply to the +<i>mère</i> Gabet, in the purely mechanical instinct of hiding her trouble: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! then he is to marry Mademoiselle Claire. She is not only very +beautiful, but it is said she is also very good.” +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, as soon as the old woman went away, she must go and find him. She +had waited long enough; she would break her promise of not seeing him as if it +were a troublesome obstacle. What right had anyone to separate them in this +way? Everything spoke to her of their affection—the Cathedral, the fresh +water, and the old elm-trees under which they had been so happy. Since their +affection had grown on this spot, it was there that she wished to find him +again, to go with him arm-in-arm far away, so far that no one would ever see +them. +</p> + +<p> +“That is all,” said at last the <i>mère</i> Gabet, as she hung the +last napkins on a bush. “In two hours they will be dry. Good-night, +mademoiselle, as you no longer have need of me.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, standing in the midst of this efflorescence of linen that shone on the +green grass, Angelique thought of that other day, when, in the tempest of wind, +among the flapping of the sheets and tablecloths, they unfolded so ingenuously +the secrets of their lives to each other. Why had he discontinued his visits to +her? Why had he not come to meet her during her healthy exercise of the past +three days? But it would not be long before she would run to him, and when he +had clasped her in his arms, he would know well that he was hers, and hers +only. She would not even need to reproach him for his apparent weakness; it +would be enough for her to show herself to make him realise that their +happiness was in being together. +</p> + +<p> +He would dare everything for her sake when once she had rejoined him. +</p> + +<p> +An hour passed, and Angelique walked slowly between the pieces of linen, all +white herself from the blinding reflection of the sun; and a confused sentiment +awoke in her breast, which, growing stronger and stronger, prevented her from +going over to the gate, as she had wished to do. She was frightened before this +commencement of a struggle. What did it mean? She certainly could act according +to her own will. Yet something new, inexplicable, thwarted her and changed the +simplicity of her passion. It was such a simple thing to go to a beloved one; +yet she could not possibly do so now, being kept back by a tormenting doubt. +Also, since she had given her promise, perhaps it would be wrong to break it. +In the evening, when the whole “wash” was dry, and Hubertine came +to help her to take it to the house, she was still undecided what to do, and +concluded to reflect upon it during the night. With her arms filled to +overflowing with linen, white as snow, and smelling fresh and clean, she cast +an anxious look towards the Clos-Marie, already bathed in the twilight, as if +it were a friendly corner of Nature refusing to be her accomplice. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning Angelique was greatly troubled when she awoke. Several other +nights passed without her having come to any decision. She could not recover +her ease of mind until she had the certainty that she was still beloved. Were +her faith in that unshaken she would be perfectly at rest. If loved, she could +bear anything. A fit of being charitable had again taken possession of her, so +that she was touched by the slightest suffering, and her eyes were filled with +tears ready to overflow at any moment. The old man Mascart made her give him +tobacco, and the Chouarts drew from her everything they wished, even to +preserved fruits. But the Lemballeuses also profited by her gifts, and +Tiennette had been seen dancing at the fêtes, dressed in one of “the good +young lady’s” gowns. And one day, as she was taking to the +grandmother some chemises promised her the previous evening, she saw from a +distance, in the midst of the poor family, Madame de Voincourt and her daughter +Claire, accompanied by Felicien. The latter, no doubt, had taken them there. +She did not show herself, but returned home at once, chilled to the heart. Two +days later she saw the two again as they came out from the Château; then one +morning the old man Mascart told her of a visit he had received from the +handsome young gentleman and two ladies. Then she abandoned her poor people, +who seemed no longer to have claims upon her, since Felicien had taken them and +given them to his new friends. She gave up her walks for fear she might see +them, and thus be so deeply wounded that her sufferings would be increased +tenfold. She felt as if something were dying within her, as if, little by +little, her very life was passing away. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, after one of these meetings, when alone in her chamber, stifling +from anguish, she uttered this cry: +</p> + +<p> +“But he loves me no longer.” +</p> + +<p> +She saw before her, mentally, Claire de Voincourt, tall, beautiful, with her +crown of black hair, and he was at her side, slight, proud, and handsome. Were +they not really created for each other, of the same race, so well mated that +one might think they were already married? +</p> + +<p> +“He no longer loves me! Oh! he no longer loves me!” +</p> + +<p> +This exclamation broke from her lips as if it were the ruin of all her hopes, +and, her faith once shaken, everything gave way without her being able to +examine the facts of the case or to regard them calmly. The previous evening +she believed in something, but that had now passed by. A breath, coming from +she knew not where, had been sufficient, and all at once by a single blow she +had fallen into the greatest despair—that of thinking she was not +beloved. He had indeed spoken wisely when he told her once that this was the +only real grief, the one insupportable torture. Now her turn had come. Until +then she had been resigned, she felt so strong and confident as she awaited the +miracle. But her strength passed away with her faith; she was tormented by her +distress like a child; her whole being seemed to be only an open wound. And a +painful struggle commenced in her soul. +</p> + +<p> +At first she called upon her pride to help her; she was too proud to care for +him any more. She tried to deceive herself, she pretended to be free from all +care, as she sang while embroidering the Hautecœur coat of arms, upon which +she was at work. But her heart was so full it almost stifled her, and she was +ashamed to acknowledge to herself that she was weak enough to love him still in +spite of all, and even to love him more than ever. For a week these armorial +bearings, as they grew thread by thread under her fingers, filled her with a +terrible sorrow. Quartered one and four, two and three, of Jerusalem and +d’Hautecœur; of Jerusalem, which is argent, a cross potence, or, between +four cross-crosslets of the last; and d’Hautecœur, azure, on a castle, +or, a shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent; the whole accompanied +by three fleurs-de-lys, or, two at the top and one in the point. The enamels +were made of twist, the metals of gold and silver thread. What misery it was to +feel that her hands trembled, and to be obliged to lower her head to hide her +eyes, that were blinded with tears, from all this brightness. She thought only +of him; she adored him in the lustre of his legendary nobility. And when she +embroidered the motto of the family, “<i>Si Dieu veult, je +veux</i>,” in black silk on a streamer of silver, she realised that she +was his slave, and that never again could she reclaim him. Then tears prevented +her from seeing, while mechanically she continued to make little stitches in +her work. +</p> + +<p> +After this it was indeed pitiable. Angelique loved in despair, fought against +this hopeless affection, which she could not destroy. She still wished to go to +Felicien, to reconquer him by throwing her arms around his neck; and thus the +contest was daily renewed. Sometimes she thought she had gained control over +her feelings, so great a silence appeared to have fallen within and around her. +She seemed to see herself as if in a vision, a stranger in reality, very +little, very cold, and kneeling like an obedient child in the humility of +renunciation. Then it was no longer herself, but a sensible young girl, made so +by her education and her home life. Soon a rush of blood mounted to her face, +making her dizzy; her perfect health, the ardent feelings of her youth, seemed +to gallop like runaway colts, and she resaw herself, proud and passionate, in +all the reality of her unknown origin. Why, then, had she been so obedient? +There was no true duty to consult, only free-will. Already she had planned her +flight, and calculated the most favourable hour for forcing open the gate of +the Bishop’s garden. But already, also, the agony, the grave uneasiness, +the torment of a doubt had come back to her. Were she to yield to evil she +would suffer eternal remorse in consequence. Hours, most abominable hours, +passed in this uncertainty as to what part she should take under this +tempestuous wind, which constantly threw her from the revolt of her love to the +horror of a fault. And she came out of the contest weakened by each victory +over her heart. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, as she was about leaving the house to go to join Felicien, she +suddenly thought of her little book from the Society of Aid to Abandoned +Children. She was so distressed to find that she no longer had strength to +resist her pride. She took it from the depths of the chest of drawers, turned +over its leaves, whispered to herself at each page the lowness of her birth, so +eager was she in her need of humility. Father and mother unknown; no name; +nothing but a date and a number; a complete neglect, like that of a wild plant +that grows by the roadside! Then crowds of memories came to her: the rich +pastures of the Mièvre and the cows she had watched there; the flat route of +Soulanges, where she had so often walked barefooted; and Maman Nini, who boxed +her ears when she stole apples. Certain pages specially attracted her by their +painful associations:—those which certified every three months to the +visits of the under-inspector and of the physician, whose signatures were +sometimes accompanied by observations or information, as, for instance, a +severe illness, during which she had almost died; a claim from her nurse on the +subject of a pair of shoes that had been burnt; and bad marks that had been +given her for her uncontrollable temper. It was, in short, the journal of her +misery. But one thing disturbed her above all others—the report in +reference to the breaking of the necklace she had worn until she was six years +of age. She recollected that she had instinctively hated it, this string of +beads of bone, cut in the shape of little olives, strung on a silken cord, and +fastened by a medallion of plaited silver, bearing the date of her entrance +into the “Home” and her number. She considered it as a badge of +slavery, and tried several times to break it with her little hands, without any +fear as to the consequences of doing so. Then, when older, she complained that +it choked her. For a year longer she was obliged to wear it. Great, indeed, was +her joy when, in the presence of the mayor of the parish, the inspector’s +aid had cut the cord, replacing this sign of individuality by a formal +description, in which allusion was made to her violet-coloured eyes and her +fine golden hair. Yet she always seemed to feel around her neck this collar, as +if she were an animal that was marked in order that she might be recognised if +she went astray; it cut into her flesh and stifled her. When she came to that +page on this day, her humility came back to her, she was frightened, and went +up to her chamber, sobbing as if unworthy of being loved. At two other times +this little book saved her. At last it lost its power, and could not help her +in checking her rebellious thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +Now, her greatest temptation came to her at night. Before going to bed, that +her sleep might be calm, she imposed upon herself the task of resuming reading +the Legends. But, resting her forehead on her hands, notwithstanding all her +efforts she could understand nothing. The miracles stupefied her; she saw only +a discoloured flight of phantoms. Then in her great bed, after a most intense +prostration, she started suddenly from her sleep, in agony, in the midst of the +darkness. She sat upright, distracted; then knelt among the half thrown-back +clothes, as the perspiration started from her forehead, while she trembled from +head to foot. Clasping her hands together, she stammered in prayer, “Oh! +my God! Why have You forsaken me?” +</p> + +<p> +Her great distress was to realise that she was alone in the obscurity at such +moments. She had dreamed of Felicien, she was eager to dress herself and go to +join him, before anyone could come to prevent her from fleeing. It was as if +the Divine grace were leaving her, as if God ceased to protect her, and even +the elements abandoned her. In despair, she called upon the unknown, she +listened attentively, hoping for some sign from the Invisible. But there was no +reply; the air seemed empty. There were no more whispering voices, no more +mysterious rustlings. Everything seemed to be dead—the Clos-Marie, with +the Chevrotte, the willows, the elm-trees in the Bishop’s garden, and the +Cathedral itself. Nothing remained of the dreams she had placed there; the +white flight of her friends in passing away left behind them only their +sepulchre. She was in agony at her powerlessness, disarmed, like a Christian of +the Primitive Church overcome by original sin, as soon as the aid of the +supernatural had departed. In the dull silence of this protected corner she +heard this evil inheritance come back, howling triumphant over everything. If +in ten minutes more no help came to her from figurative forces, if things +around her did not rouse up and sustain her, she would certainly succumb and go +to her ruin. “My God! My God! Why have You abandoned me?” Still +kneeling on her bed, slight and delicate, it seemed to her as if she were +dying. +</p> + +<p> +Each time, until now, at the moment of her greatest distress she had been +sustained by a certain freshness. It was the Eternal Grace which had pity upon +her, and restored her illusions. She jumped out on to the floor with her bare +feet, and ran eagerly to the window. Then at last she heard the voices rising +again; invisible wings brushed against her hair, the people of the +“Golden Legend” came out from the trees and the stones, and crowded +around her. Her purity, her goodness, all that which resembled her in Nature, +returned to her and saved her. Now she was no longer afraid, for she knew that +she was watched over. Agnes had come back with the wandering, gentle virgins, +and in the air she breathed was a sweet calmness, which, notwithstanding her +intense sadness, strengthened her in her resolve to die rather than fail in her +duty or break her promise. At last, quite exhausted, she crept back into her +bed, falling asleep again with the fear of the morrow’s trials, +constantly tormented by the idea that she must succumb in the end, if her +weakness thus increased each day. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, a languor gained fearfully upon Angelique since she thought Felicien +no longer loved her. She was deeply wounded and silent, uncomplaining; she +seemed to be dying hourly. At first it showed itself by weariness. She would +have an attack of want of breath, when she was forced to drop her thread, and +for a moment remain with her eyes half closed, seeing nothing, although +apparently looking straight before her. Then she left off eating, scarcely +taking even a little milk; and she either hid her bread or gave it to the +neighbours’ chickens, that she need not make her parents anxious. A +physician having been called, found no acute disease, but considering her life +too solitary, simply recommended a great deal of exercise. It was like a +gradual fading away of her whole being; a disappearing by slow degrees, an +obliterating of her physique from its immaterial beauty. Her form floated like +the swaying of two great wings; a strong light seemed to come from her thin +face, where the soul was burning. She could now come down from her chamber only +in tottering steps, as she supported herself by putting her two hands against +the wall of the stairway. But as soon as she realised she was being looked at, +she made a great effort, and even persisted in wishing to finish the panel of +heavy embroidery for the Bishop’s seat. Her little, slender hands had no +more strength, and when she broke a needle she could not draw it from the work +with the pincers. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, when Hubert and Hubertine had been obliged to go out, and had left +her alone at her work, the embroiderer, coming back first, had found her on the +floor near the frame, where she had fallen from her chair after having fainted +away. She had at last succumbed before her task, one of the great golden angels +being still unfinished. Hubert took her in his arms, and tried to place her on +her feet. But she fell back again, and did not recover consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling! My darling! Speak to me! Have pity on me!” +</p> + +<p> +At last she opened her eyes and looked at him in despair. Why had he wished her +to come back to life! She would so gladly die! +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with you, my dear child? Have you really deceived us? +Do you still love him?” +</p> + +<p> +She made no answer, but simply looked at him with intense sadness. Then he +embraced her gently, took her in his arms, and carried her up to her room. +Having placed her upon her bed, when he saw how white and frail she was he wept +that he had had so cruel a task to perform as to keep away from her the one +whom she so loved. +</p> + +<p> +“But I would have given him to you, my dear! Why did you say nothing to +me?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not speak; her eyelids closed, and she appeared to fall asleep. He +remained standing, his looks fixed upon the thin, lily-white countenance, his +heart bleeding with pity. Then, as her breathing had become quiet, he went +downstairs, as he heard his wife come in. +</p> + +<p> +He explained everything to her in the working-room. Hubertine had just taken +off her hat and gloves, and he at once told her of his having found the child +on the floor in a dead faint, that she was now sleeping on her bed, overcome +with weakness, and almost lifeless. +</p> + +<p> +“We have really been greatly mistaken. She thinks constantly of this +young man, and it is killing her by inches. Ah! if you knew what a shock it +gave me, and the remorse which has made me almost distracted, since I have +realised the truth of the case, and carried her upstairs in so pitiable a +state. It is our fault. We have separated them by falsehoods, and I am not only +ashamed, but so angry with myself it makes me ill. But what? Will you let her +suffer so, without saying anything to save her?” +</p> + +<p> +Still Hubertine was as silent as Angelique, and, pale from anxiety, looked at +him calmly and soothingly. But he, always an excitable man, was now so overcome +by what he had just seen that, forgetting his usual submission, he was almost +beside himself, could not keep still, but threw his hands up and down in his +feverish agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then! I will speak, and I will tell her that Felicien loves +her, and that it is we who have had the cruelty to prevent him from returning, +in deceiving him also. Now, every tear she sheds cuts me to the heart. Were she +to die, I should consider myself as having been her murderer. I wish her to be +happy. Yes! happy at any cost, no matter how, but by all possible means.” +</p> + +<p> +He had approached his wife, and he dared to cry out in the revolt of his +tenderness, being doubly irritated by the sad silence she still maintained. +</p> + +<p> +“Since they love each other, it is they alone who should be masters of +the situation. There is surely nothing in the world greater than to love and be +loved. Yes, happiness is always legitimate.” +</p> + +<p> +At length Hubertine, standing motionless, spoke slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“You are willing, then, that he should take her from us, are you not? +That he should marry her notwithstanding our opposition, and without the +consent of his father? Would you advise them to do so? Do you think that they +would be happy afterwards, and that love would suffice them?” +</p> + +<p> +And without changing her manner she continued in the same heart-broken voice: +</p> + +<p> +“On my way home I passed by the cemetery, and an undefinable hope made me +enter there again. I knelt once more on the spot that is worn by our knees, and +I prayed there for a long time.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert had turned very pale, and a cold chill replaced the fever of a few +moments before. Certainly he knew well the tomb of the unforgiving mother, +where they had so often been in tears and in submission, as they accused +themselves of their disobedience, and besought the dead to send them her pardon +from the depths of the earth. They had remained there for hours, sure that if +the grace they demanded were ever granted them they would be cognisant of it at +once. That for which they pleaded, that for which they hoped, was for another +infant, a child of pardon, the only sign which would assure them that at last +they themselves had been forgiven. But all was in vain. The cold, hard mother +was deaf to all their entreaties, and left them under the inexorable punishment +of the death of their firstborn, whom she had taken and carried away, and whom +she refused to restore to them. +</p> + +<p> +“I prayed there for a long time,” repeated Hubertine. “I +listened eagerly to know if there would not be some slight movement.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert questioned her with an anxious look. +</p> + +<p> +“But there was nothing—no! no sound came up to me from the earth, +and within me there was no feeling of relief. Ah! yes, it is useless to hope +any longer. It is too late. We brought about our own unhappiness.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, trembling, he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you accuse me of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are to blame, and I also did wrong in following you. We +disobeyed in the beginning, and all our life has been spoiled in consequence of +that one false step.” +</p> + +<p> +“But are you not happy?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am not happy. A woman who has no child can never be happy. To love +merely is not enough. That love must be crowned and blest.” +</p> + +<p> +He had fallen into a chair, faint and overcome, as tears came to his eyes. +Never before had she reproached him for the ever-open wound which marred their +lives, and she who always after having grieved him by an involuntary allusion +to the past had quickly recovered herself and consoled him, this time let him +suffer, looking at him as she stood near, but making no sign, taking no step +towards him. He wept bitterly, exclaiming in the midst of his tears: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the dear child upstairs—it is she you condemn. You are not +willing that Felicien should marry her, as I married you, and that she should +suffer as you have done.” +</p> + +<p> +She answered simply by a look: a clear, affectionate glance, in which he read +the strength and simplicity of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“But you said yourself, my dear, that our sweet daughter would die of +grief if matters were not changed. Do you, then, wish for her death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Her death now would be preferable to an unhappy life.” +</p> + +<p> +He left his seat, and clasped her in his arms as they both sobbed bitterly. For +some minutes they embraced each other. Then he conquered himself, and she in +her turn was obliged to lean upon his shoulder, that he might comfort her and +renew her courage. They were indeed distressed, but were firm in their decision +to keep perfectly silent, and, if it were God’s will that their child +must die in consequence, they must accept it submissively, rather than advise +her to do wrong. +</p> + +<p> +From that day Angelique was obliged to keep in her room. Her weakness increased +so rapidly and to such a degree that she could no longer go down to the +workroom. Did she attempt to walk, her head became dizzy at once and her limbs +bent under her. At first, by the aid of the furniture, she was able to get to +the balcony. Later, she was obliged to content herself with going from her +armchair to her bed. Even that distance seemed long to her, and she only tried +it in the morning and evening, she was so exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +However, she still worked, giving up the embroidery in bas-relief as being too +difficult, and simply making use of coloured silks. She copied flowers after +Nature, from a bunch of hydrangeas and hollyhocks, which, having no odour, she +could keep in her room. The bouquet was in full bloom in a large vase, and +often she would rest for several minutes as she looked at it with pleasure, for +even the light silks were too heavy for her fingers. In two days she had made +one flower, which was fresh and bright as it shone upon the satin; but this +occupation was her life, and she would use her needle until her last breath. +Softened by suffering, emaciated by the inner fever that was consuming her, she +seemed now to be but a spirit, a pure and beautiful flame that would soon be +extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +Why was it necessary to struggle any longer if Felicien did not love her? Now +she was dying with this conviction; not only had he no love for her to-day, but +perhaps he had never really cared for her. So long as her strength lasted she +had contended against her heart, her health, and her youth, all of which urged +her to go and join him. But now that she was unable to move, she must resign +herself and accept her fate. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, as Hubert placed her in her easy chair, and put a cushion under +her little, motionless feet, she said, with a smile: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I am sure of being good now, and not trying to run away.” +</p> + +<p> +Hubert hastened to go downstairs, that she might not see his tears. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p> +It was impossible for Angelique to sleep that night. A nervous wakefulness kept +her burning eyelids from closing, and her extreme weakness seemed greater than +ever. The Huberts had gone to their room, and at last, when it was near +midnight, so great a fear came over her that she would die if she were to +remain longer in bed, she preferred to get up, notwithstanding the immense +effort required to do so. +</p> + +<p> +She was almost stifled. Putting on a dressing-gown and warm slippers, she crept +along slowly as far as the window, which she opened wide. The winter was +somewhat rainy, but of a mild dampness; so the air was pleasant to breathe. She +sank back into her great armchair, after having turned up the wick of a lamp +which was on a table near her, and which was always allowed to be kept burning +during the entire night. There, by the side of the volume of the “Golden +Legend,” was the bouquet of hydrangeas and hollyhocks which she had begun +to copy. That she might once more attach herself to the life which she realised +was fast passing from her she had a sudden fancy to work, and drawing her frame +forward, she made a few stitches with her trembling fingers. The red silk of +the rose-tremière seemed of a deeper hue than ever, in contrast with her white +hands: it was almost as if it were the blood from her veins which was quietly +flowing away drop by drop. +</p> + +<p> +But she, who for two hours had turned in vain from side to side in the burning +bedclothes, yielded almost immediately to sleep as soon as she was seated. Her +head drooped a little toward her right shoulder, being supported by the back of +her chair, and the silk remaining in her motionless hands, a looker-on would +have thought she was still embroidering. White as snow, perfectly calm, she +slept under the light of the lamp in the chamber, still and quiet as a tomb. +The faded, rosy draperies of the great royal couch were paler than ever in +their shady corner, and the gloom of the walls of the room was only relieved by +the great chest of drawers, the wardrobe, and the chairs of old carved oak. +Minutes passed; her slumber was deep and dreamless. +</p> + +<p> +At last there was a slight sound, and Felicien suddenly appeared on the +balcony, pale, trembling, and, like herself, looking very worn and thin, and +his countenance distressed. When he saw her reclining in the easy chair, +pitiable and yet so beautiful to look at, he rushed at once into the chamber, +and his heart grew heavy with infinite grief as he went forward, and, falling +on his knees before her, gazed at her with an expression of utter despair. +Could it be that she was so hopelessly ill? Was it unhappiness that had caused +her to be so weak, and to have wasted way to such a degree that she appeared to +him light as air while she lay there, like a feather which the slightest breath +would blow away? In her sleep, her suffering and her patient resignation were +clearly seen. He in fact would have known her only by her lily-like grace, the +delicate outlines of her neck, her drooping shoulders, and her oval face, +transfigured like that of a youthful virgin mounting towards heaven. Her +exquisite hair was now only a mass of light, and her pure soul shone under the +soft transparency of her skin. She had all the ethereal beauty of the saints +relieved from their bodies. He was both dazzled and distressed; the violent +shock rendered him incapable of moving, and, with hands clasped, he remained +silent. She did not awake as he continued to watch her. +</p> + +<p> +A little air from the half-closed lips of Felicien must have passed across +Angelique’s face, as all at once she opened her great eyes. Yet she did +not start, but in her turn looked at him with a smile, as if he were a vision. +Yes, it was he! She recognised him well, although he was greatly changed. But +she did not think she was awake, for she often saw him thus in her dreams, and +her trouble was increased when, rousing from her sleep, she realised the truth. +</p> + +<p> +He held his hands out towards her and spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“My dearest, I love you. I was told that you were ill, and came to you +immediately. Look at me! Here I am, and I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +She straightened herself up quickly. She shuddered, as with a mechanical +movement she passed her fingers over her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Doubt no longer, then. See me at your feet, and realise that I love you +now, as I have ever done.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! is it you? I had given up expecting you, and yet you are +here.” +</p> + +<p> +With her feeble, trembling hands, she had taken his, thus assuring herself that +he was not a fanciful vision of her sleep. +</p> + +<p> +He continued: +</p> + +<p> +“You have always loved me, and I love you for ever. Yes, notwithstanding +everything; and more deeply even than I should have ever thought it possible to +do.” +</p> + +<p> +It was an unhoped-for excess of happiness, and in this first minute of absolute +joy they forgot everything else in the world, giving themselves up to the +delightful certainty of their mutual affection, and their ability to declare +it. The sufferings of the past, the obstacles of the future, had disappeared as +if by magic. They did not even think of asking how it was that they had thus +come together. But there they were, mingling their tears of joy together as +they embraced each other with the purest of feelings: he was overcome with pity +that she was so worn by grief and illness that she seemed like a mere shadow in +his arms. In the enchantment of her surprise she remained half-paralysed, +trembling from exhaustion, radiant with spiritual beauty, as she lay back in +her great easy chair, so physically weary that she could not raise herself +without falling again, but intoxicated with this supreme contentment. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear Seigneur, my only remaining wish is gratified. I longed to see +you before death came.” +</p> + +<p> +He lifted up his head, as with a despairing movement, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak of dying. It shall not be. I am here, and I love +you.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled angelically. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not afraid to die now that you have assured me of your affection. +The idea no longer terrifies me. I could easily fall asleep in this way, while +leaning on your shoulders. Tell me once more that you love me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I love you as deeply to-day as I loved you yesterday, and as I will love +you on the morrow. Do not doubt it for one moment, for it is for eternity! Oh, +yes, we will love each other for ever and ever.” +</p> + +<p> +Angelique was enraptured, and with vague eyes looked directly before her, as if +seeing something beyond the cold whiteness of the chamber. But evidently she +aroused herself, as if just awaking from sleep. In the midst of this great +felicity which had appeased her, she had now had time for reflection. The true +facts of the case astonished her. +</p> + +<p> +“You have loved me! Yet why did you not at once come to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your parents said that you cared for me no longer. I also nearly died +when learning that. At last, I was determined to know the whole truth, and was +sent away from the house, the door being absolutely closed against me, and I +was forbidden to return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then they shut the door in your face? Yet my mother told me that you did +not love me, and I could but believe her, since having seen you several times +with that young lady, Mademoiselle Claire, I thought naturally you were obeying +your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I was waiting. But it was cowardly on my part thus to tremble before +him. My great mistake has been to allow the matter to go so far; for my duty +was to have trusted only in you, to have insisted upon seeing you personally, +and to have acted with you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a short silence. Angelique sat erect for an instant, as if she had +received a blow, and her expression grew cold and hard, and her forehead was +cut by an angry wrinkle. +</p> + +<p> +“So we have both of us been deceived. Falsehoods have been told in order +to separate us from each other. Notwithstanding our mutual love, we have been +tortured to such a degree that they have almost killed us both. Very well, +then! It is abominable, and it frees us from the promises we made. We are now +at liberty to act as we will.” +</p> + +<p> +An intense feeling of contempt so excited her that she stood up on her feet. +She no longer realised that she was ill, but appeared to have regained her +strength miraculously in the reawakening of all the passion and pride of her +nature. To have thought her dream ended, and all at once to have re-found it in +its full beauty and vitality, delighted her. To be able to say that they had +done nothing unworthy of their love, but that it was other persons who had been +the guilty ones, was a comfort. This growth of herself, this at last certain +triumph, exalted her and threw her into a supreme rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +She simply said: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +And she walked around the room, brave in the return of her energy and her will. +She had already selected a mantle to throw over her shoulders. A lace scarf +would be sufficient for her head. +</p> + +<p> +Felicien uttered one cry of joy as she thus anticipated his desire. He had +merely thought of this flight, but had not had the boldness to dare propose it; +and how delightful indeed it would be to go away together, to disappear, and +thus put an end to all cares, to overcome all obstacles. The sooner it was done +the better, for then they would avoid having to contend with reflection or +afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, darling, let us go immediately. I was coming to take you. I know +where we can find a carriage. Before daylight we will be far away: so far that +no one will ever be able to overtake us.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her drawers, but closed them again violently, without taking +anything therefrom, as her excitement increased. Could it be possible that she +had suffered such torture for so many weeks! She had done everything in her +power to drive him from her mind, to try to convince herself that he cared no +more for her, until at last she thought she had succeeded in doing so. But it +was of no use, and all this abominable work must be done over again. No! she +could never have strength sufficient for that. Since they loved each other, the +simplest thing in the world to do was to be married, and then no power on earth +could separate them. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see. What ought I to take? Oh! how foolish I have been with all +my childish scruples, when I think that others have lowered themselves so much +as even to tell us falsehoods! Yes! even were I to have died, they would not +have called you to me. But, tell me, must I take linen and dresses? See, here +is a warmer gown. What strange ideas, what unnumbered obstacles, they put in my +head. There was good on one side and evil on the other: things which one might +do, and again that which one should never do; in short, such a complication of +matters, it was enough to make one wild. They were all falsehoods: there was no +truth in any of them. The only real happiness is to live to love the one who +loves you, and to obey the promptings of the heart. You are the personification +of fortune, of beauty, and of youth, my dear Seigneur; my only pleasure is in +you. I give myself to you freely, and you may do with me what you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +She rejoiced in this breaking-out of all the hereditary tendencies of her +nature, which she thought had died within her. Sounds of distant music excited +her. She saw as it were their royal departure: this son of a prince carrying +her away as in a fairy-tale, and making her queen of some imaginary realm; and +she was ready to follow him with her arms clasped around his neck, her head +upon his breast, with such a trembling from intense feeling that her whole body +grew weak from happiness. To be alone together, just they two, to abandon +themselves to the galloping of horses, to flee away, and to disappear in each +other’s arms. What perfect bliss it would be! +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not better for me to take nothing? What good would it do in +reality?” +</p> + +<p> +He, partaking of her feverishness, was already at the door, as he replied: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Take nothing whatever. Let us go at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, let us go. That is the best thing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +And she rejoined him. But she turned round, wishing to give a last look at the +chamber. The lamp was burning with the same soft light, the bouquet of +hydrangeas and hollyhocks was blooming as ever, and in her work-frame the +unfinished rose, bright and natural as life, seemed to be waiting for her. But +the room itself especially affected her. Never before had it seemed so white +and pure to her; the walls, the bed, the air even, appeared as if filled with a +clear, white breath. +</p> + +<p> +Something within her wavered, and she was obliged to lean heavily against the +back of a chair that was near her and not far from the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” asked Felicien anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply, but breathed with great difficulty. Then, seized with a +trembling, she could no longer bear her weight on her feet, but was forced to +sit down. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be anxious; it is nothing. I only want to rest for a minute and +then we will go.” +</p> + +<p> +They were silent. She continued to look round the room as if she had forgotten +some valuable object there, but could not tell what it was. It was a regret, at +first slight, but which rapidly increased and filled her heart by degrees, +until it almost stifled her. She could no longer collect her thoughts. Was it +this mass of whiteness that kept her back? She had always adored white, even to +such a degree as to collect bits of silk and revel over them in secret. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, just one moment more, and we will go away, my dear +Seigneur.” +</p> + +<p> +But she did not even make an effort to rise. Very anxious, he again knelt +before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you suffering, my dear? Cannot I do something to make you feel +better? If you are shivering because you are cold, I will take your little feet +in my hands, and will so warm them that they will grow strong and be able to +run.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head as she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I am not cold. I could walk. But please wait a little, just a +single minute.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw well that invisible chains seemed again to have taken possession of her +limbs, and, little by little, were attaching themselves so strongly to her that +very soon, perhaps, it would be quite impossible for him to draw her away. Yet, +if he did not take her from there at once, if they did not flee together, he +thought of the inevitable contest with his father on the morrow, of the +distressing interview before which he had recoiled for weeks past. Then he +became pressing, and besought her most ardently. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, dear, the highways are not light at this hour; the carriage will +bear us away in the darkness, and we will go on and on, cradled in each +other’s arms, sleeping as if warmly covered with down, not fearing the +night’s freshness; and when the day dawns we will continue our route in +the sunshine, as we go still farther on, until we reach the country where +people are always happy. No one will know us there; we will live by ourselves, +lost in some great garden, having no other care than to love each other more +deeply than ever at the coming of each new day. We shall find flowers as large +as trees, fruits sweeter than honey. And we will live on nothing, for in the +midst of this eternal spring, dear soul, we will live on our kisses.” +</p> + +<p> +She trembled under these burning words, with which he heated her face, and her +whole being seemed to be fainting away at the representation of these promised +joys. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! in a few minutes I will be ready; but wait a little longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if journeying fatigues us, we will come back here. We will rebuild +the Château d’Hautecœur, and we will pass the rest of our lives there. +That is my ideal dream. If it is necessary, we will spend willingly all our +fortune therein. Once more shall its donjon overlook from its height the two +valleys. We will make our home in the Pavilion d’Honneur, between the +Tower of David and the Tower of Charlemagne. The colossal edifice shall be +restored as in the days of its primitive power: the galleries, the dwellings, +the chapels, shall appear in the same barbaric luxury as before. And I shall +wish for us to lead the life of olden times; you a princess and I a prince, +surrounded by a large company of armed vassals and of pages. Our walls of +fifteen feet of thickness will isolate us, and we shall be as our ancestors +were, of whom it is written in the Legend. When the sun goes down behind the +hills we will return from hunting, mounted on great white horses, greeted +respectfully by the peasants as they kneel before us. The horn will resound in +welcome, the drawbridge will be lowered for us. In the evening, kings will dine +at our table. At night, our couch will be on a platform surmounted by a canopy +like a throne. While we sleep peacefully in purple and gold, soft music will be +played in the distance.” +</p> + +<p> +Quivering with pride and pleasure, she smiled now, but soon, overcome by the +great suffering that again took possession of her, her lips assumed a mournful +expression and the smile disappeared. As with a mechanical movement of her +hands she drove away the tempting pictures he called forth, he redoubled his +ardour, and wished to make her his by seizing her and carrying her away in his +arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, dear. Come with me. Let us go, and forget everything but our +united happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +Disengaging herself brusquely, she escaped him, with an instinctive rebellion, +and trying to stand up, this cry came at last from her: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! I cannot go. I no longer have the power to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +However, again lamenting her fate, still torn by the contest in her soul, +hesitating and stammering, she again turned towards him imploringly. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg you to be good and not hurry me too much, but wait awhile. I would +so gladly obey you, in order to prove to you my love; I would like above all to +go away on your arm to that beautiful far-away country, where we could live +royally in the castle of your dreams. It seems to me an easy thing to do, so +often have I myself planned our flight. Yet now, what shall I say to you? It +appears to me quite an impossibility; it is as if a door had suddenly been +walled up between us and prevented me from going out.” +</p> + +<p> +He wished to try to fascinate her again, but she quieted him with a movement of +her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“No; do not say anything more. It is very singular, but in proportion as +you utter such sweet, such tender words, which ought to convince me, fear takes +possession of me and chills me to the heart. My God! What is the matter with +me? It is really that which you say which drives me from you. If you continue, +I can no longer listen to you; you will be obliged to go away. Yet +wait—wait a little longer!” +</p> + +<p> +She walked very slowly about the room, anxiously seeking to resume her +self-control, while he looked at her in despair. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought to have loved you no longer; but it was certainly only a +feeling of pique, since just now, as soon as I found you again at my feet, my +heart beat rapidly, and my first impulse was to follow you as if I were your +slave. Then, if I love you, why am I afraid of you? What is it that prevents me +from leaving this room, as if invisible hands were holding me back by my whole +body, and even by each hair of my head?” +</p> + +<p> +She had stopped near her bed; then she went as far as the wardrobe, then to the +different articles of furniture, one after the other. They all seemed united to +her person by invisible ties. Especially the walls of the room, the grand +whiteness of the mansard roof, enveloped her with a robe of purity, that she +could leave behind her only with tears; and henceforth all this would be a part +of her being; the spirit of her surroundings had entered into her. And she +realised this fact stronger than ever when she found herself opposite her +working-frame, which was resting at the side of the table under the lamplight. +Her heart softened as she saw the half-made rose, which she would never finish +were she to go away in this secret, criminal manner. The years of work were +brought back to her mind: those quiet, happy years, during which life had been +one long experience of peace and honesty, so that now she rebelled at the +thought of committing a fault and of thus fleeing in the arms of her lover. +Each day in this little, fresh house of the embroiderers, the active and pure +life she had led there, away from all worldly temptations, had, as it were, +made over all the blood in her veins. +</p> + +<p> +Then Felicien, realising that in some inexplicable way Angelique was being +reconquered and brought to her better self, felt the necessity of hastening +their departure. He seized her hands and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, dear. Time passes quickly. If we wait much longer it will be too +late.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him an instant, and then in a flash realised her true position. +Freeing herself from his grasp she exclaimed, resolutely and frankly: +</p> + +<p> +“It is already too late. You can see for yourself that I am unable now to +follow you. Once my nature was so proud and passionate that I could have thrown +my two arms around your neck in order that you might carry me away all the more +quickly. But now I am no longer the same person. I am so changed that I do not +recognise myself. Yes, I realise now that it is this quiet corner where I have +been brought up, and the education that has been given me, that has made me +what I am at present. Do you then yourself hear nothing? Do you not know that +everything in this chamber calls upon me to stay? And I do not rebel in the +least against this demand, for my joy at last is to obey.” +</p> + +<p> +Without speaking, without attempting to discuss the question with her, he tried +to take her hands again, and to lead her like an intractable child. Again she +avoided him and turned slowly toward the window. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I beseech you to leave me. It is not my hand that you wish for, it +is my heart; and also that, of my own free will, I shall at once go away with +you. But I tell you plainly that I do not wish to do so. A while ago I thought +to have been as eager for flight as you are. But sure of my true self now, I +know it was only the last rebellion, the agony of the old nature within me, +that has just died. Little by little, without my knowledge, the good traits of +my character have been drawn together and strongly united: humility, duty, and +renunciation. So at each return of hereditary tendency to excess, the struggle +has been less severe, and I have triumphed over temptation more easily. Now, at +last, everything assures me that the supreme contest has just taken place; that +henceforth it is finished for ever. I have conquered myself, and my nature is +freed from the evil tendencies it had. Ah! dear Seigneur, I love you so much! +Do not let us do the slightest thing to mar our happiness. To be happy it is +always necessary to submit.” +</p> + +<p> +As he took another step towards her, she was at the threshold of the great +window, which was now wide open on to the balcony. She had stopped him with a +half-smile as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“You would not like to force me to throw myself down from here. Listen, +and understand me when I say to you that everything which surrounds me is on my +side. I have already told you that for a long time objects themselves have +spoken to me. I hear voices in all directions, and never have they been so +distinct as at this moment. Hear! It is the whole Clos-Marie that encourages me +not to spoil my life and yours by giving myself to you without the consent of +your father. This singing voice is the Chevrotte, so clear and so fresh that it +seems to have put within me a purity like crystal since I have lived so near +it. This other voice, like that of a crowd, tender and deep, it is that of the +entire earth—the grasses, the trees, all the peaceable life of this +sacred corner which has so constantly worked for the good of my soul. +</p> + +<p> +“And there are other voices which come from still farther away, from the +elms of the garden of Monseigneur, and from this horizon of branches, the +smallest of which interests itself in me, and wishes for me to be victorious. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, again, this great, sovereign voice, it is that of my old friend, +the Cathedral, who, eternally awake, both day and night, has taught me many +important things. Each one of the stones in the immense building, the little +columns in the windows, the bell-towers of its piers, the flying buttresses of +its apse, all have a murmur which I can distinguish, a language which I +understand. Listen to what they say: that hope remains even in death. When one +is really humble, love alone remains and triumphs. And at last, look! The air +itself is filled with the whisperings of spirits. See, here are my invisible +companions, the virgins, who are ever near me and aid me. Listen, +listen!” +</p> + +<p> +Smiling, she had lifted up her hand with an air of the deepest attention, and +her whole being was in ecstasy from the scattered breathings she heard. They +were the virgins of the “Golden Legend” that her imagination called +forth, as in her early childhood, and whose mystic flight came from the old +book with its quaint pictures, that was placed on the little table. Agnes was +first, clothed with her beautiful hair, having on her finger the ring of +betrothal to the Priest Paulin. Then all the others came in turn. Barbara with +her tower; Genevieve with her sheep; Cecilia with her viol; Agatha with her +wounded breast; Elizabeth begging on the highways, and Catherine triumphing +over the learned doctors. She did not forget the miracle that made Lucy so +heavy that a thousand men and five yoke of oxen could not carry her away: nor +the Governor who became blind as he tried to embrace Anastasia. Then others who +seemed flying through the quiet night, still bearing marks of the wounds +inflicted upon them by their cruel martyrdom, and from which rivers of milk +were flowing instead of blood. Ah! to die from love like them, to die in the +purity of youth at the first kiss of a beloved one! +</p> + +<p> +Felicien had approached her. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the one person who really lives, Angelique, and you cannot give me +up for mere fancies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dreams!—fancies!” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; for if in reality these visions seem to surround you, it is simply +that you yourself have created them all. Come, dear; no longer put a part of +your life into objects about you, and they will be quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave way to a burst of enthusiastic feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no! Let them speak. Let them call out louder still! They are my +strength; they give me the courage to resist you. It is a manifestation of the +Eternal Grace, and never has it overpowered me so energetically as now. If it +is but a dream, a dream which I have placed in my surroundings, and which comes +back to me at will, what of it? It saves me, it carries me away spotless in the +midst of dangers. Listen yourself. Yield, and obey like me. I no longer have +even a wish to follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of her weakness, she made a great effort and stood up, resolute and +firm. +</p> + +<p> +“But you have been deceived,” he said. “Even falsehood has +been resorted to in order to separate us!” +</p> + +<p> +“The faults of others will not excuse our own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! You have withdrawn your heart from me, and you love me no +longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I love you. I oppose you only on account of our love and for our mutual +happiness. Obtain the consent of your father; then come for me, and I will +follow you no matter where.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father! You do not know him. God only could ever make him yield. Tell +me, then, is this really to be the end of everything? If my father orders me to +marry Claire de Voincourt, must I in that case obey him?” +</p> + +<p> +At this last blow Angelique tottered. Was no torture to be spared her? She +could not restrain this heartbroken cry: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that is too much! My sufferings are greater than I can bear. I +beseech you go away quickly and do not be so cruel. Why did you come at all? I +was resigned. I had learned to accept the misfortune of being no longer loved +by you. Yet the moment that I am reassured of your affection, all my martyrdom +recommences; and how can you expect me to live now?” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien, not aware of the depth of her despair, and thinking that she had +yielded simply to a momentary feeling, repeated his question: +</p> + +<p> +“If my father wishes me to marry her——” +</p> + +<p> +She struggled heroically against her intense suffering; she succeeded in +standing up, notwithstanding that her heart was crushed, and dragging herself +slowly towards the table, as if to make room for him to pass her, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Marry her, for it is always necessary to obey.” +</p> + +<p> +In his turn he was now before the window, ready to take his departure, because +she had sent him away from her. +</p> + +<p> +“But it will make you die if I do so.” +</p> + +<p> +She had regained her calmness, and, smiling sadly, she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that work is nearly done already.” +</p> + +<p> +For one moment more he looked at her, so pale, so thin, so wan; light as a +feather, to be carried away by the faintest breath. Then, with a brusque +movement of furious resolution, he disappeared in the night. +</p> + +<p> +When he was no longer there, Angelique, leaning against the back of her +armchair, stretched her hands out in agony towards the darkness, and her frail +body was shaken by heavy sobs, and cold perspiration came out upon her face and +neck. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” This, then, was the end, and she would never see him +again. All her weakness and pain had come back to her. Her exhausted limbs no +longer supported her. It was with great difficulty that she could regain her +bed, upon which she fell helpless, but calm in spirit from the assurance that +she had done right. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning they found her there, dying. The lamp had just gone out of +itself, at the dawn of day, and everything in the chamber was of a triumphal +whiteness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p> +Angelique was dying. +</p> + +<p> +It was ten o’clock one cold morning towards the end of the winter, the +air was sharp, and the clear heavens were brightened up by the beautiful +sunshine. In her great royal bed, draped with its old, faded, rose-coloured +chintz, she lay motionless, having been unconscious during the whole night. +Stretched upon her back, her little ivory-like hands carelessly thrown upon the +sheet, she no longer even opened her eyes, and her finely-cut profile looked +more delicate than ever under the golden halo of her hair; in fact, anyone who +had seen her would have thought her already dead, had it not been for the +slight breathing movement of her lips. +</p> + +<p> +The day before, Angelique, realising that she was very ill, had confessed, and +partaken of the Communion. Towards three o’clock in the afternoon the +good Abbé Cornille had brought to her the sacred <i>Viaticum</i>. Then in the +evening, as the chill of death gradually crept over her, a great desire came to +her to receive the Extreme Unction, that celestial remedy, instituted for the +cure of both the soul and body. Before losing consciousness, her last words, +scarcely murmured, were understood by Hubertine, as in hesitating sentences she +expressed her wish for the holy oils. “Yes—oh yes!—as +quickly—as possible—before it is too late.” +</p> + +<p> +But death advanced. They had waited until day, and the Abbé, having been +notified, was about to come. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was now ready to receive the clergyman. The Huberts had just +finished arranging the room. Under the gay sunlight, which at this early +morning hour struck fully upon the window-panes, it looked pure as the dawn in +the nudity of its great white walls. The table had been covered with a fresh +damask cloth. At the right and the left of the crucifix two large wax-tapers +were burning in the silver candelabrum which had been brought up from the +parlour, and there were also there the consecrated wafers, the asperges brush, +an ewer of water with its basin and a napkin, and two plates of white +porcelain, one of which was filled with long bits of cotton, and the other with +little <i>cornets</i> of paper. The greenhouses of the lower town had been +thoroughly searched, but the only inodorous flowers that had been found were +the peonies—great white peonies, enormous tufts of which adorned the +table, like a shimmering of white lace. And in the midst of this intense +whiteness, Angelique, dying, with closed eyes, still breathed gently with a +half-perceptible breath. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, who had made his first morning visit, had said that she could not +live through the day. She might, indeed, pass away at any moment, without even +having come to her senses at all. The Huberts, resolute and grave, waited in +silent despair. Notwithstanding their grief and tears, it was evidently +necessary that this should be the end. If they had ever wished for this death, +preferring to lose their dear child rather than to have her rebellious, it was +evident that God also wished it with them, and now, that in this last trying +moment they were quite powerless, they could only submit themselves to the +inevitable. They regretted nothing, although their sorrow seemed greater than +they could bear. Since she, their darling, had been there, suffering from her +long illness, they had taken the entire care of her day and night, refusing all +aid offered them from outside. They were still there alone in this supreme +hour, and they waited. +</p> + +<p> +Hubert, scarcely knowing what he did, walked mechanically to the porcelain +stove, the door of which he opened, for the gentle roaring of the flaming wood +sounded to him like a plaintive moan; then there was a perfect silence. The +peonies seemed even to turn paler in the soft heat of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Hubertine, stronger than her husband, and still fully conscious of all she did, +listened to the sounds of the Cathedral as they came to her from behind the +walls. During the past moment the old stones had vibrated from the swinging of +the bell of the great tower. It must certainly be the Abbé Cornille leaving the +church with the sacred oils, she thought; so she went downstairs, that she +might receive him at the door of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes later, the narrow stairway of the little tower was filled with a +great murmuring sound. Then in the warm chamber, Hubert, struck with +astonishment, suddenly began to tremble, whilst a religious fear, mingled with +a faint hope, made him fall upon his knees. Instead of the old clergyman whom +they had expected, it was Monseigneur who entered. Yes! Monseigneur, in lace +surplice, having the violet stole, and carrying the silver vessel in which was +the oil for the sick, which he himself had blessed on Holy Thursday. His +eagle-like eyes were fixed, as he looked straight before him; his beautiful +pale face was really majestic under the thick, curly masses of his white hair. +Behind him walked the Abbé Cornille, like a simple clerk, carrying in one hand +a crucifix, and under the other a book of ritual service. +</p> + +<p> +Standing for a moment upon the threshold, the bishop said in a deep, grave +voice: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pax huic domui</i>.” (“Peace be to this house.”) +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Et omnibus habitantibus in ea</i>,” replied the priest in a +lower tone. (“And to all the inhabitants thereof.”) +</p> + +<p> +When they had entered, Hubertine, who had come up the stairs after them, she +also trembling from surprise and emotion, went and knelt by the side of her +husband. Both of them prostrated themselves most humbly, and prayed fervently +from the depths of their souls. +</p> + +<p> +A few hours after his last visit to Angelique, Felicien had had the terrible +and dreaded explanation with his father. Early in the morning of that same day +he had found open the doors, he had penetrated even into the Oratory, where the +Bishop was still at prayer, after one of those nights of frightful struggling +against the memories of the past, which would so constantly reappear before +him. In the soul of this hitherto always respectful son, until now kept +submissive by fear, rebellion against authority, so long a time stifled, +suddenly broke forth, and the collision of these two men of the same blood, +with natures equally prompt to violence, was intense. The old man had left his +devotional chair, and with cheeks growing purple by degrees, he listened +silently as he stood there in his proud obstinacy. The young man, with face +equally inflamed, poured out everything that was in his heart, speaking in a +voice that little by little grew louder and rebuking. He said that Angelique +was not only ill, but dying. He told him that in a pressing moment of +temptation, overcome by his deep affection, he had wished to take her away with +him that they might flee together, and that she, with the submissive humility +of a saint, and chaste as a lily, had refused to accompany him. Would it not be +a most abominable murder to allow this obedient young girl to die, because she +had been unwilling to accept him unless when offered to her by the hand of his +father? She loved him so sincerely that she could die for him. In fact, she +could have had him, with his name and his fortune, but she had said +“No,” and, triumphant over her feelings, she had struggled with +herself in order to do her duty. Now, after such a proof of her goodness, could +he permit her to suffer so much grief? Like her, he would be willing to give up +everything, to die even, if it might be, and he realised that he was cowardly. +He despised himself for not being at her side, that they might pass out of life +together, by the same breath. Was it possible that anyone could be so cruel as +to wish to torment them, that they should both have so sad a death, when one +word, one simple word, would secure them such bliss? Ah! the pride of name, the +glory of wealth, persistence in one’s determination: all these were +nothing in comparison to the fact that by the union of two hearts the eternal +happiness of two human beings was assured. He joined his hands together, he +twisted them feverishly, quite beside himself as he demanded his father’s +consent, still supplicating, already almost threatening. But the Bishop, with +face deeply flushed by the mounting of his blood, with swollen lips, with +flaming eyes, terrible in his unexpressed anger, at last opened his mouth, only +to reply by this word of parental authority: “Never!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Felicien, absolutely raving in his rebellion, lost all control over +himself. +</p> + +<p> +He spoke of his mother, he really threatened his father by the remembrance of +the dead. It was she who had come back again in the shape of her son to +vindicate and reclaim the right of affection. Could it be that his father had +never loved her? Had he even rejoiced in her death, since he showed himself so +harsh towards those who loved each other, and who wished to live? But he might +well do all he could to become cold in the renunciations demanded by the +Church; she would come back to haunt and to torture him, because he was willing +to torture the child they had had, the living witness of their affection for +each other. She would always be there, so long as their son lived. She wished +to reappear in the children of their child for ever. And he was causing her to +die over again, by refusing to her son the betrothed of his choice, the one +through whom the race was to be continued. When a man had once been married to +a woman, he should never think of wedding the Church. Face to face with his +father, who, motionless, appeared in his fearful silence to grow taller and +taller, he uttered unfilial, almost murderous words. Then, shocked at himself, +he rushed away, shuddering at the extent to which passion had carried him. +</p> + +<p> +When once more alone, Monseigneur, as if stabbed in the full breast by a sharp +weapon, turned back upon himself and struggled deeply with his soul, as he +knelt upon his prie-Dieu. A half-rattling sound came from his throat. Oh! these +frightful heart contests, these invincible weaknesses of the flesh. This woman, +and his beloved dead, who was constantly coming back to life, he adored her +now, as he did the first evening when he kissed her white feet; and this son, +he idolised him as belonging to her, as a part of her life, which she had left +to him. And even the young girl, the little working girl whom he had repulsed, +he loved her also with a tenderness like that of his son for her. Now his +nights were inexpressibly agitated by all three. Without his having been +willing to acknowledge it, had she then touched him so deeply as he saw her in +the great Cathedral, this little embroiderer, with her golden hair, her fresh +pure neck, in all the perfume of her youth? He saw her again; she passed before +him, so delicate, so pure in her victorious submission. No remorse could have +come to him with a step more certain or more conquering. He might reject her +with a loud voice. He knew well that henceforth she held him strongly by the +heart with her humble hands that bore the signs of work. Whilst Felicien was so +violently beseeching him, he seemed to see them both behind the blonde head of +the petitioner—these two idolised women, the one for whom his son prayed, +and the one who had died for her child. They were there in all their physical +beauty, in all their loving devotion, and he could not tell where he had found +strength to resist, so entirely did his whole being go out towards them. +Overcome, sobbing, not knowing how he could again become calm, he demanded from +Heaven the courage to tear out his heart, since this heart belonged no longer +to God alone. +</p> + +<p> +Until evening Monseigneur continued at prayer. When he at last reappeared he +was white as wax, distressed, anxious, but still resolute. He could do nothing +more, but he repeated to his son the terrible word—“Never!” +It was God alone who had the right to relieve him from his promise; and God, +although implored, gave him no sign of change. It was necessary to suffer. +</p> + +<p> +Some days had passed. Felicien constantly wandered round the little house, wild +with grief, eager for news. Each time that he saw anyone come out he almost +fainted from fear. Thus it happened that on the morning when Hubertine ran to +the church to ask for the sacred oils, he learned that Angelique could not live +through the day. The Abbé Cornille was not at the Sacristy, and he rushed about +the town to find him, still having a last hope that through the intervention of +the good man some Divine aid might come. Then, as he brought back with him the +sought-for clergyman, his hope left him, and he had a frightful attack of doubt +and anger. What should he do? In what way could he force Heaven to come to his +assistance? He went away, hastened to the Bishop’s palace, the doors of +which he again forced open, and before his incoherent words his father was for +a moment frightened. At last he understood. Angelique was dying! She awaited +the Extreme Unction, and now God alone could save her. The young man had only +come to cry out all his agony, to break all relations with this cruel, +unnatural father, and to accuse him to his face of willingly allowing this +death. But Monseigneur listened to him without anger: upright and very serious, +his eyes suddenly brightened with a strange clearness, as if an inner voice had +spoken to him. Motioning to his son to lead the way, he followed him, simply +saying at last: +</p> + +<p> +“If God wishes it, I also wish it.” +</p> + +<p> +Felicien trembled so that he could scarcely move. His father consented, freed +from his personal vow, to submit himself to the goodwill of the hoped-for +miracle. Henceforth they, as individuals, counted for nothing. God must act for +himself. Tears blinded him. Whilst in the Sacristy Monseigneur took the sacred +oils from the hands of the Abbé Cornille. He accompanied them, almost +staggering; he did not dare to enter into the chamber, but fell upon his knees +at the threshold of the door, which was open wide. +</p> + +<p> +The voice of the Bishop was firm, as he said: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Pax huic domui</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Et omnibus habitantibus in ea</i>,” the priest replied. +</p> + +<p> +Monseigneur had just placed on the white table, between the two wax-candles, +the sacred oils, making in the air the sign of the cross, with the silver vase. +Then he took from the hands of the Abbé the crucifix, and approached the +sufferer that he might make her kiss it. But Angelique was still unconscious: +her eyes were closed, her mouth shut, her hands rigid, and looking like the +little stiff figures of stone placed upon tombs. He examined her for a moment, +and, seeing by the slight movement of her chest that she was not dead, he +placed upon her lips the crucifix. He waited. His face preserved the majesty of +a minister of penitence, and no signs of emotion were visible when he realised +that not even a quivering had passed over the exquisite profile of the young +girl, nor in her beautiful hair. She still lived, however, and that was +sufficient for the redemption of her sins. +</p> + +<p> +The Abbé then gave to Monseigneur the vessel of holy water and the asperges +brush, and while he held open before him the ritual book, he threw the holy +water upon the dying girl, as he read the Latin words, <i>Asperges me, Domine, +hyssopo et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor</i>. (“Thou +shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: thou shalt wash me, and I +shall be whiter than snow.”) +</p> + +<p> +The drops sprang forth in every direction, and the whole bed was refreshed by +them as if sprinkled with dew. It rained upon her hands and upon her cheeks; +but one by one the drops rolled away as if from insensible marble. At last the +Bishop turned towards the assistants and sprinkled them in their turn. Hubert +and Hubertine, kneeling side by side, in the full union of their perfect faith, +bent humbly under the shower of this benediction. Then Monseigneur blessed also +the chamber, the furniture, the white walls in all their bare purity, and as he +passed near the door he found himself before his son, who had fallen down on +the threshold, and was sobbing violently, having covered his face with his +burning hands. With a slow movement, he raised three times the asperges brush, +and he purified him with a gentle rain. This holy water, spread everywhere, was +intended at first to drive away all evil spirits, who were flying by crowds, +although invisible. Just at this moment a pale ray of the winter sun passed +over the bed, and a multitude of atoms, light specks of dust, seemed to be +living therein. They were innumerable as they came down from an angle of the +window, as if to bathe with their warmth the cold hands of the dying. +</p> + +<p> +Going again towards the table, Monseigneur repeated the prayer, +“<i>Exaudi nos</i>.” (“Give ear to us.”) +</p> + +<p> +He made no haste. It was true that death was there, hovering near the old, +faded chintz curtains, but he knew that it was patient, and that it would wait. +And although in her state of utter prostration the child could not hear him, he +addressed her as he asked her: +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nothing upon your conscience which distresses you? Confess all +your doubts and fears, my daughter; relieve your mind.” +</p> + +<p> +She was still in the same position, and she was always silent. When, in vain, +he had given time for a reply, he commenced the exhortation with the same full +voice, without appearing to notice that none of his words reached her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Collect your thoughts, meditate, demand from the depths of your soul +pardon from God. The Sacrament will purify you, and will strengthen you anew. +Your eyes will become clear, your ears chaste, your nostrils fresh, your mouth +pure, your hands innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +With eyes fixed upon her, he continued reading to the end all that was +necessary for him to say; while she scarcely breathed, nor did one of her +closed eyelids move. Then he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Recite the Creed.” +</p> + +<p> +And having waited awhile, he repeated it himself: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem</i>.” (“I believe +in one God, the Father Almighty.”) +</p> + +<p> +“Amen,” replied the Abbé Cornille. +</p> + +<p> +All this time the heavy sobbing of Felicien was heard, as upon the +landing-place he wept in the enervation of hope. Hubert and Hubertine still +prayed fervently, with the same anxious waiting and desire, as if they had felt +descend upon them all the invisible powers of the Unknown. A change now came in +the service, from the murmur of half-spoken prayers. Then the litanies of the +ritual were unfolded, the invocation to all the Saints, the flight of the Kyrie +Eleison, calling Heaven to the aid of miserable humanity, mounting each time +with great outbursts, like the fume of incense. +</p> + +<p> +Then the voices suddenly fell, and there was a deep silence. Monseigneur washed +his fingers in the few drops of water that the Abbé poured out from the ewer. +At length he took the vessel of sacred oil, opened the cover thereof, and +placed himself before the bed. It was the solemn approach of the Sacrament of +this last religious ceremony, by the efficacy of which are effaced all mortal +or venial sins not pardoned, which rest in the soul after having received the +other sacraments, old remains of forgotten sins, sins committed unwittingly, +sins of languor which prevented one from being firmly re-established in the +grace of God. The pure white chamber seemed to be like the individuals +collected therein, motionless, and in a state of surprise and expectation. +Where could all these sins be found? They must certainly come from outside in +this great band of sun’s rays, filled with dancing specks of dust, which +appeared to bring germs of life even to this great royal couch, so white and +cold from the coming of death to a pure young maiden. +</p> + +<p> +Monseigneur meditated a moment, fixing his looks again upon Angelique, assuring +himself that the slight breath had not ceased, struggling against all human +emotion, as he saw how thin she was, with the beauty of an archangel, already +immaterial. His voice retained the authority of a divine disinterestedness, and +his thumb did not tremble when he dipped it into the sacred oils as he +commenced the unctions on the five parts of the body where dwell the senses: +the five windows by which evil enters into the soul. +</p> + +<p> +First upon the eyes, upon the closed eyelids, the right and then the left; and +slowly, lightly, he traced with his thumb the sign of the Cross. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum deliquisti</i>.” (“By +this holy anointing and His gracious mercy, the Lord forgive whatever sins thou +hast committed through <i>seeing</i>.”)[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] This formula is repeated with reference to the other senses—hearing, +smell, taste, and touch. +</p> + +<p> +And the sins of the sight were redeemed; lascivious looks, immodest curiosity, +the pride of spectacles, unwholesome readings, tears shed for guilty troubles. +</p> + +<p> +And she, dear child, knew no other book than the “Golden Legend,” +no other horizon than the apse of the Cathedral, which hid from view all the +rest of the world. She had wept only in the struggle of obedience and the +renunciation of passion. +</p> + +<p> +The Abbé Cornille wiped both her eyes with a bit of cotton, which he afterwards +put into one of the little cornets of paper. +</p> + +<p> +Then Monseigneur anointed the ears, with their lobes as delicate and +transparent as pearl, first the right ear, afterwards the left, scarcely +moistened with the sign of the cross. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per auditum deliquisti</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +So all the abominations of hearing were atoned for: all the words and music +which corrupt, the slanders, the calumnies, the blasphemies, the sinful +propositions listened to with complacency, the falsehoods of love which aided +the forgetfulness of duty, the profane songs which excited the senses, the +violins of the orchestra which, as it were, wept voluptuously under the +brilliant lights. +</p> + +<p> +She in her isolated life, like that of a cloistered nun—she had never +even heard the free gossip of the neighbours, or the oath of a carman as he +whips his horses. The only music that had ever entered her ears was that of the +sacred hymns, the rumblings of the organs, the confused murmurings of prayers, +with which at times vibrated all this fresh little house, so close to the side +of the great church. +</p> + +<p> +The Abbé, after having dried the ears with cotton, put that bit also into one +of the white cornets. +</p> + +<p> +Monseigneur now passed to the nostrils, the right and then the left, like two +petals of a white rose, which he purified by touching them with the sacred oil +and making on them the sign of the cross. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per odoratum deliquisti</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +And the sense of smell returned to its primitive innocence, cleansed from all +stain: not only from the carnal disgrace of perfumes, from the seduction of +flowers with breath too sweet, from the scattered fragrances of the air which +put the soul to sleep; but yet again from the faults of the interior sense, the +bad examples given to others, and the contagious pestilence of scandal. Erect +and pure, she had at last become a lily among the lilies, a great lily whose +perfume fortified the weak and delighted the strong. In fact, she was so truly +delicate that she could never endure the powerful odour of carnations, the musk +of lilacs, the feverish sweetness of hyacinths, and was only at ease with the +scentless blossoms, like the marguerites and the periwinkles. +</p> + +<p> +Once more the Abbé, with the cotton, dried the anointed parts, and slipped the +little tuft into another of the cornets. +</p> + +<p> +Then Monseigneur, descending to the closed mouth, through which the faint +breath was now scarcely perceptible, made upon the lower lip the sign of the +cross. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per gustum deliquisti</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +This time it was the pardon for the base gratifications of taste, greediness, +too great a desire for wine, or for sweets; but especially the forgiveness for +sins of the tongue, that universally guilty member, the provoker, the poisoner, +the inventor of quarrels, the inciter to wars, which makes one utter words of +error and falsehood which at length obscure even the heavens. Yet her whole +mouth was only a chalice of innocence. She had never had the vice of gluttony, +for she had taught herself, like Elizabeth, to eat whatever was set before her, +without paying great attention to her food. And if it were true that she lived +in error, it was the fault of her dream which had placed her there, the hope of +a beyond, the consolation of what was invisible, and all the world of +enchantment which her ignorance had created and which had made of her a saint. +</p> + +<p> +The Abbé having dried the lips, folded the bit of cotton in the fourth white +cornet. +</p> + +<p> +At last Monseigneur anointed first the right and then the left palms of the two +little ivory-like hands, lying open upon the sheet, and cleansed them from +their sins with the sign of the cross. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per tactum deliquisti</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +And the whole body was purified, being washed from its last spots—those +of the touch the most repugnant of all. Pilfering, fighting, murder, without +counting other sins of the breast, the body, and the feet, which were also +redeemed by this unction. All which burns in the flesh, our anger, our desires, +our unruled passions, the snares and pitfalls into which we run, and all +forbidden joys by which we are tempted. Since she had been there, dying from +her victory over herself, she had conquered her few failings, her pride and her +passion, as if she had inherited original sin simply for the glory of +triumphing over it. She knew not, even, that she had had other wishes, that +love had drawn her towards disobedience, so armed was she with the breastplate +of ignorance of evil, so pure and white was her soul. +</p> + +<p> +The Abbé wiped the little motionless hands, and putting the last puff of cotton +in the remaining cornet, he threw the five papers into the fire at the back of +the stove. +</p> + +<p> +The ceremony was finished. Monseigneur washed his fingers before saying the +final prayer. He had now only to again exhort the dying, in placing in her hand +the symbolic taper, to drive away the demons, and to show that she had just +recovered her baptismal innocence. But she remained rigid, her eyes closed, her +mouth shut as if dead. The holy oils had purified her body, the signs of the +cross had left their traces on the five windows of the soul, without making the +slightest wave of colour, or of life, mount to her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Although implored and hoped for, the prodigy did not appear, and the room was +silent and anxious. Hubert and Hubertine, still kneeling side by side, no +longer prayed, but, with their eyes fixed upon their darling, gazed so +earnestly that they both seemed motionless for ever, like the figures of the +<i>donataires</i> who await the Resurrection in a corner of an old painted +glass window. Felicien had drawn himself up on his knees and was now at the +door, having ceased from sobbing, as with head erect he also might see if God +would always remain deaf to their prayers. Was it then a mere lure? Would not +this holy Sacrament bring her back to life? +</p> + +<p> +For the last time Monseigneur approached the bed, followed by the Abbé +Cornille, who held, already lighted, the wax-taper which was to be placed in +the hand of the young girl. And the Bishop, not willing to acknowledge the +state of unconsciousness in which she remained, determining to go even to the +end of the rite, that God might have time in which to work, pronounced the +formula:— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas in saecula +saeculorum</i>.” (“Receive this light, and keep the unction thou +hast received, that when the Lord shall come to judgment thou mayest meet Him +with all His saints, and live with Him for ever and ever.”) +</p> + +<p> +“Amen,” replied the Abbé. +</p> + +<p> +But when they endeavoured to open Angelique’s hand and to press it round +the taper, the hand, powerless, as if already dead, escaped them and fell back +upon her breast. +</p> + +<p> +Then, little by little, Monseigneur yielded to a great nervous trembling. It +was the emotion which, for a long time restrained, now broke out within him, +carrying away with it the last rigidity of priesthood. He dearly loved her, +this child, from the day when she had come to sob at his feet, so innocent, and +showing so plainly the pure freshness of her youth. Since then, in his nights +of distress, he had contended chiefly against her, to defend himself from the +overwhelming tenderness with which she inspired him. At this moment she was +worthy of pity, with this pallor of death, with an ethereal beauty which +showed, however, so deep a suffering that he could not look at her without his +heart being secretly overwhelmed with distress. +</p> + +<p> +He could no longer control himself. His eyelids were swollen by the great tears +which at last rolled down his cheeks. She must not die in this way: he was +conquered by her touching charms even in death, and all his paternal feelings +went out towards her. +</p> + +<p> +Then Monseigneur, recalling to mind the numerous miracles of his race, the +power which had been given them by Heaven to heal, thought that doubtless God +awaited his consent as a father. He invoked Saint Agnes, before whom all his +ancestors had offered up their devotions, and as Jean V. d’Hautecœur +prayed at the bedside of those smitten by the plague and kissed them, so now he +prayed and kissed Angelique upon her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“If God wishes, I also wish it.” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately Angelique opened her eyelids. She looked at the Bishop without +surprise as she awoke from her long trance, and, her lips still warm from the +kiss, smiled upon him. These things were not strange to her, for they certainly +must have been realised sooner or later, and it might be that she was coming +out of one dream only to have another still; but it seemed to her perfectly +natural that Monseigneur should have come to betroth her to Felicien, since the +hour for that ceremony had arrived. In a few minutes, unaided, she sat up in +the middle of her great royal bed. +</p> + +<p> +The Bishop, radiant, showing by his expression his clear appreciation of the +remarkable prodigy, repeated the formula:— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas in saecula +saeculorum</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen,” replied the Abbé. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had taken the lighted taper, and held it up with a firm hand. Life +had come back to her, like the flame of the candle, which was burning clear and +bright, driving away the spirits of the night. +</p> + +<p> +A great cry resounded through the room. Felicien was standing up, as if raised +by the power of the miracle, while the Huberts, overwhelmed by the same +feeling, remained upon their knees, with wonder-stricken eyes, with delighted +countenances, before that which they had seen. The bed had appeared to them +enveloped with a brilliant light; white masses seemed still to be mounting up +on the rays of the sunlight, and the great walls, the whole room in fact, kept +a white lustre, as that of snow. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of all, Angelique, like a refreshed lily, replaced upon its +branch, appeared in the clear light. Her fine golden hair was like a halo of +glory around her head, her violet-coloured eyes shone divinely, and her pure +face beamed with a living splendour. +</p> + +<p> +Felicien, seeing that she was saved, touched by the Divine grace that Heaven +had vouchsafed them, approached her, and knelt by the side of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! dear soul, you recognise us now, and you will live. I am yours. My +father wishes it to be so, since God has desired it.” +</p> + +<p> +She bowed her head, smiling sweetly as she said, “Oh! I knew it must be +so, and waited for it. All that I have foreseen will come to pass.” +</p> + +<p> +Monseigneur, who had regained his usual proud serenity, placed the crucifix +once more on her lips, and this time she kissed it as a submissive servant. +Then, with a full movement of his hands, through the room, above the heads of +all present, the Bishop gave the final benediction, while the Huberts and the +Abbé Cornille wept. +</p> + +<p> +Felicien had taken one of the little hands of Angelique, while in the other +little hand the taper of innocence burned bright and clear. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p> +The marriage was fixed for the early part of March. But Angelique remained very +feeble, notwithstanding the joy which radiated from her whole person. She had +wished after the first week of her convalescence to go down to the workroom, +persisting in her determination to finish the panel of embroidery in bas-relief +which was to be used for the Bishop’s chair. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be,” she said cheerfully, “her last, best piece of +work; and besides, no one ever leaves,” she added, “an order only +half-completed.” +</p> + +<p> +Then exhausted by the effort, she was again forced to keep her chamber. She +lived there, happy and smiling, without regaining the full health of former +times, always white and immaterial as the sacred sacramental oils; going and +coming with a gentle step like that of a vision, and after having occasionally +made the exertion of walking as far as from her table to the window, finding +herself obliged to rest quietly for hours and give herself up to her sweet +thoughts. At length they deferred the wedding-day, thinking it better to wait +for her complete recovery, which must certainly come if she were well nursed +and cared for. +</p> + +<p> +Every afternoon Felicien went up to see her. Hubert and Hubertine were there, +and they passed together most delightful hours, during which they continually +made and re-made the same bright projects. Seated in her great chair she +laughed gaily, seemed trembling with life and vivacity, as she was the first to +talk of the days which would be so well filled when together they could take +long journeys; and of all the unknown joys that would come to them after they +had restored the old Château d’Hautecœur. Anyone, to have seen her then, +would have considered her saved and regaining her strength in the backward +spring, the air of which, growing warmer and warmer daily, entered by the open +window. In fact, she never fell back into the deep gravities of her dreams, +except when she was entirely alone and was not afraid of being seen. In the +night, voices still appeared to be near her: then it seemed as if the earth +were calling to her; and at last the truth was clearly revealed to her, so that +she fully understood that the miracle was being continued only for the +realisation of her dream. Was she not already dead, having simply the +appearance of living, thanks to the respite which had been granted her from +Divine Grace? This idea soothed her with deep gentleness in her hours of +solitude, and she did not feel a moment’s regret at the thought of being +called away from life in the midst of her happiness, so certain was she of +always realising to its fullest extent her anticipated joy. The cheerfulness +she had hitherto shown became simply a little more serious; she abandoned +herself to it quietly, forgetting her physical weakness as she indulged in the +pure delights of fancy. It was only when she heard the Huberts open the door, +or when Felicien came to see her, that she was able to sit upright, to bring +her thoughts back to her surroundings, and to appear as if she were regaining +her health, laughing pleasantly while she talked of their years of happy +housekeeping far away, in the days to come. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of March Angelique grew very restless and much weaker. Twice, +when by herself, she had long fainting fits. One morning she fell at the foot +of her bed, just as Hubert was bringing her up a cup of milk; by a great effort +of will she conquered herself, and, that she might deceive him, she remained on +the floor and smiled, as she pretended to be looking for a needle that had been +dropped. The following day she was gayer than usual, and proposed hastening the +marriage, suggesting that at all events it should not be put off any later than +the middle of April. All the others exclaimed at this idea, asking if it would +not be advisable to wait awhile, since she was still so delicate. There was no +need of being in such a hurry. She, however, seemed feverishly nervous, and +insisted that the ceremony should take place immediately—yes, as soon as +possible. Hubertine, surprised at the request, having a suspicion as to the +true motive of this eagerness, looked at her earnestly for a moment, and turned +very pale as she realised how slight was the cold breath which still attached +her daughter to life. The dear invalid had already grown calm, in her tender +need of consoling others and keeping them under an illusion, although she knew +personally that her case was hopeless. Hubert and Felicien, in continual +adoration before their idol, had neither seen nor felt anything unusual. Then +Angelique, exerting herself almost supernaturally, rose up, and was more +charming than ever, as she slowly moved back and forth with the light step of +former days. She continued to speak of her wish, saying if it were granted she +would be so happy, and that after the wedding she would certainly be cured. +Moreover, the question should be left to Monseigneur; he alone should decide +it. That same evening, when the Bishop was there, she explained her desire to +him, fixing her eyes on his, regarding him steadily and beseechingly, and +speaking in her sweet, earnest voice, under which there was hidden an ardent +supplication, unexpressed in words. Monseigneur realised it, and understood the +truth, and he appointed a day in the middle of April for the ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +Then they lived in great commotion from the necessary bustle attendant upon the +preparations for the marriage. Notwithstanding his official position as +guardian, Hubert was obliged to ask permission, or rather the consent of the +Director of Public Assistance, who always represented the family council, +Angelique not yet being of age; and Monsieur Grandsire, the Justice of the +Peace, was charged with all legal details, in order to avoid as much as +possible the painful side of the position to the young girl and to Felicien. +But the dear child, realising that something was being kept back, asked one day +to have her little book brought up to her, wishing to put it herself into the +hands of her betrothed. She was now, and would henceforth remain, in a state of +such sincere humility that she wished him to know thoroughly from what a low +position he had drawn her, to elevate her to the glory of his well-honoured +name and his great fortune. These were her parchments, her titles to nobility; +her position was explained by this official document, this entry on the +calendar where there was only a date followed by a number. She turned over all +the leaves once more, then gave it to him without being confused, happy in +thinking that in herself she was nothing, but that she owed everything to him. +So deeply touched was he by this act, that he knelt down, kissed her hands +while tears came to his eyes, as if it were she who had made him the one gift, +the royal gift of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +For two weeks the preparations occupied all Beaumont, both the upper and the +lower town being in a state of great excitement therefrom. It was said that +twenty working-girls were engaged day and night upon the trousseau. The +wedding-dress alone required three persons to make it, and there was to be a +<i>corbeille</i>, or present from the bridegroom, to the value of a million of +francs: a fluttering of laces, of velvets, of silks and satins, a flood of +precious stones—diamonds worthy a Queen. But that which excited the +people more than all else was the great amount given in charity, the bride +having wished to distribute to the poor as much as she had received herself. So +another million was showered down upon the country in a rain of gold. At length +she was able to gratify all her old longings of benevolence, all the +prodigalities of her most exaggerated dreams, as with open hands she let fall +upon the wretched and needy a stream of riches, an overflow of comforts. In her +little, white, bare chamber, confined to her old armchair, she laughed with +delight when the Abbé Cornille brought to her the list of the distributions he +had made. “Give more! Give more!” she cried, as it seemed to her as +if not enough were done. She would, in reality, have liked to have seen the +Père Mascart seated for ever at a table before a princely banquet; the +Chouteaux living in palatial luxury; the <i>mère</i> Gabet cured of her +rheumatism, and by the aid of money to have renewed her youth. As for the +Lemballeuse, the mother and daughters, she absolutely wished to load them with +silk dresses and jewellery. The hail of golden pieces redoubled over the town +as in fairy-tales, far beyond the daily necessities, as if merely for the +beauty and joy of seeing the triumphal golden glory, thrown from full hands, +falling into the street and glittering in the great sunlight of charity. +</p> + +<p> +At last, on the eve of the happy day, everything was in readiness. Felicien had +bought a large house on the Rue Magloire, at the back of the Bishop’s +palace, which had been fitted up and furnished most luxuriously. There were +great rooms hung with admirable tapestries, filled with the most beautiful +articles imaginable; a salon in old, rare pieces of hand embroidery; a boudoir +in blue, soft as the early morning sky; and a sleeping-room, which was +particularly attractive: a perfect little corner of white silk and +lace—nothing, in short, but white, airy, and light—an exquisite +shimmering of purity. But Angelique had constantly refused to go to see all +these wonderful things, although a carriage was always ready to convey her +there. She listened to the recital of that which had been done with an +enchanted smile, but she gave no orders, and did not appear to wish to occupy +herself with any of the arrangements. “No, no,” she said, for all +these things seemed so far away in the unknown of that vast world of which she +was as yet totally ignorant. Since those who loved her had prepared for her so +tenderly this happiness, she desired to partake thereof, and to enter therein +like a princess coming from some chimerical country, who approaches the real +kingdom where she is to reign for ever. In the same way she preferred to know +nothing, except by hearsay, of the <i>corbeille</i>, which also was waiting for +her—a superb gift from her betrothed, the wedding outfit of fine linen, +embroidered with her cipher as marchioness, the full-dress costumes tastefully +trimmed, the old family jewels valuable as the richest treasures of a +cathedral, and the modern jewels in their marvellous yet delicate mountings, +precious stones of every kind, and diamonds of the purest water. It was +sufficient to her that her dream had come to pass, and that this good future +awaited her in her new home, radiant in the reality of the new life that was +opening before her. The only thing she saw was her wedding-dress, which was +brought to her on the marriage morning. +</p> + +<p> +That day, when she awoke, Angelique, still alone, had in her great bed a moment +of intense exhaustion, and feared that she would not be able to get up at all. +She attempted to do so, but her knees bent under her; and in contrast to the +brave serenity she had shown for weeks past, a fearful anguish, the last, +perhaps, took utter possession of her. Then, as in a few minutes Hubertine came +into the room, looking unusually happy, she was surprised to find that she +could really walk, for she certainly did not do so from her own strength, but +aid came to her from the Invisible, and friendly hands sustained and carried +her. They dressed her; she no longer seemed to weigh anything, but was so +slight and frail that her mother was astonished, and laughingly begged her not +to move any more if she did not wish to fly quite away. During all the time of +preparing her toilette, the little fresh house of the Huberts, so close to the +side of the Cathedral, trembled under the great breath of the Giant, of that +which already was humming therein, of the preparations for the ceremony, the +nervous activity of the clergy, and especially the ringing of the bells, a +continuous peal of joy, with which the old stones were vibrating. +</p> + +<p> +In the upper town, for over an hour there had been a glorious chiming of bells, +as on the greatest holy days. The sun had risen in all its beauty, and on this +limpid April morning a flood of spring rays seemed living with the sonorous +peals which had called together all the inhabitants of the place. The whole of +Beaumont was in a state of rejoicing on account of the marriage of this little +embroiderer, to whom their hearts were so deeply attached, and they were +touched by the fact of her royal good fortune. This bright sunlight, which +penetrated all the streets, was like the golden rain, the gifts of fairy-tales, +rolling out from her delicate hands. Under this joyful light, the multitude +crowded in masses towards the Cathedral, filling the side-aisles of the church, +and coming out on to the Place du Cloître. There the great front of the +building rose up, like a huge bouquet of stone, in full blossom, of the most +ornamental Gothic, above the severe Romanesque of the foundation. In the tower +the bells still rung, and the whole facade seemed to be like a glorification of +these nuptials, expressive of the flight of this poor girl through all the +wonders of the miracle, as it darted up and flamed, with its open lace-work +ornamentations, the lily-like efflorescence of its little columns, its +balustrades, and its arches, the niches of saints surmounted with canopies, the +gable ends hollowed out in trefoil points, adorned with crossettes and flowers, +immense rose-windows opening out in the mystic radiation of their mullions. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock the organs pealed. Angelique and Felicien were there, +walking with slow steps towards the high altar, between the closely-pressed +ranks of the crowd. A breath of sincere, touching admiration came from every +side. He, deeply moved, passed along proud and serious, with his blonde beauty +of a young god appearing slighter than ever from his closely-fitting black +dress-coat. But she, above all, struck the hearts of the spectators, so +exquisite was she, so divinely beautiful with a mystic, spiritual charm. Her +dress was of white watered silk, simply covered with rare old Mechlin lace, +which was held by pearls, a whole setting of them designing the ruches of the +waist and the ruffles of the skirt. A veil of old English point was fastened to +her head by a triple crown of pearls, and falling to her feet, quite covered +her. That was all—not a flower, not a jewel, nothing but this slight +vision, this delicate, trembling cloud, which seemed to have placed her sweet +little face between two white wings, like that of the Virgin of the painted +glass window, with her violet eyes and her golden hair. +</p> + +<p> +Two armchairs, covered with crimson velvet, had been placed for Felicien and +Angelique before the altar; and directly behind them, while the organs +increased their phrases of welcome, Hubert and Hubertine knelt on the low +benches which were destined for the family. The day before an intense joy had +come to them, from the effects of which they had not yet recovered, and they +were incapable of expressing their deep, heartfelt thanks for their own +happiness, which was so closely connected with that of their daughter. +Hubertine, having gone once more to the cemetery, saddened by the thought of +their loneliness, and the little house, which would seem so empty after the +departure of the dearly-beloved child, had prayed to her mother for a long +time; when suddenly she felt within her an inexplicable relief and gladness, +which convinced her that at last her petition had been granted. From the depths +of the earth, after more than twenty years, the obstinate mother had forgiven +them, and sent them the child of pardon so ardently desired and longed for. Was +this the recompense of their charity towards the poor forlorn little creature +whom they had found one snowy day at the Cathedral entrance, and who to-day was +to wed a prince with all the show and pomp of the greatest ceremony? They +remained on their knees, without praying in formulated words, enraptured with +gratitude, their whole souls overflowing with an excess of infinite +thanksgiving. And on the other side of the nave, seated on his high, official +throne, Monseigneur was also one of the family group. He seemed filled with the +majesty of the God whom he represented; he was resplendent in the glory of his +sacred vestments, and the expression of his countenance was that of a proud +serenity, as if he were entirely freed from all worldly passions. Above his +head, on the panel of wonderful embroidery, were two angels supporting the +brilliant coat of arms of Hautecœur. +</p> + +<p> +Then the solemn service began. All the clergy connected with the cathedral were +present to do honour to their Bishop, and priests had come from the different +parishes to assist them. Among the crowd of white surplices which seemed to +overflow the grating, shone the golden capes of the choristers, and the red +robes of the singing-boys. The almost eternal night of the side-aisles, crushed +down by the weight of the heavy Romanesque chapels, was this morning slightly +brightened by the limpid April sunlight, which struck the painted glass of the +windows so that they seemed to be a burning of gems, a sacred bursting into +blossom of luminous flowers. But the background of the nave particularly blazed +with a swarming of wax-tapers, tapers as innumerable as the stars of evening in +a summer sky. In the centre, the high altar seemed on fire from them, a true +“burning bush,” symbolic of the flame that consumes souls; and +there were also candles in large candelabra and in chandeliers, while before +the plighted couple, two enormous lustres with round branches looked like two +suns. About them was a garden of masses of green plants and of living blossoms, +where were in flower great tufts of white azaleas, of white camellias, and of +lilacs. Away to the back of the apse sparkled bits of gold and silver, +half-seen skirts of velvet and of silk, a distant dazzling of the tabernacle +among the sombre surroundings of green verdure. Above all this burning the nave +sprang out, and the four enormous pillars of the transept mounted upward to +support the arched vaulting, in the trembling movement of these myriads of +little flames, which almost seemed to pale at times in the full daylight which +entered by the high Gothic windows. +</p> + +<p> +Angelique had wished to be married by the good Abbé Cornille, and when she saw +him come forward in his surplice, and with the white stole, followed by two +clerks, she smiled. This was at last the triumphant realisation of her +dream—she was wedding fortune, beauty, and power far beyond her wildest +hopes. The church itself was singing by the organs, radiant with its +wax-tapers, and alive with the crowd of believers and priests, whom she knew to +be around her on every side. Never had the old building been more brilliant or +filled with a more regal pomp, enlarged as it were in its holy, sacred luxury, +by an expansion of happiness. Angelique smiled again in the full knowledge that +death was at her heart, celebrating its victory over her, in the midst of this +glorious joy. In entering the Cathedral she had glanced at the Chapel +d’Hautecœur, where slept Laurette and Balbine, the “Happy +Dead,” who passed away when very young, in the full happiness of their +love. At this last hour she was indeed perfect. Victorious over herself, +reclaimed, renewed, having no longer any feeling of passion or of pride at her +triumph, resigned at the knowledge that her life was fast leaving her, in this +beautiful Hosanna of her great friend, the blessed old church. When she fell +upon her knees, it was as a most humble, most submissive servant, entirely free +from the stain of original sin; and in her renunciation she was thoroughly +content. +</p> + +<p> +The Abbé Cornille, having mounted to the altar, had just come down again. In a +loud voice he made the exhortation; he cited as an example the marriage which +Jesus had contracted with the Church; he spoke of the future, of days to come +when they would live and govern themselves in the true faith; of children whom +they must bring up as Christians; and then, once more, in face of this hope, +Angelique again smiled sweetly, while Felicien trembled at the idea of all this +happiness, which he believed to be assured. Then came the consecrated demands +of the ritual, the replies which united them together for their entire +existence, the decisive “Yes”—which she pronounced in a voice +filled with emotion from the depths of her heart, and which he said in a much +louder tone, and with a tender earnestness. The irrevocable step was taken, the +clergyman had placed their right hands together, one clasping the other, as he +repeated the prescribed formula: “I unite you in matrimony, in the name +of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Ghost.” But there were +still rings to be blessed, the symbols of inviolable fidelity, and of the +eternity of the union, which is lasting. In the silver basin, above the rings +of gold, the priest shook back and forth the asperges brush, and making the +sign of the Cross over each one, said, “Bless, O Lord, this ring.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he presented them to the young couple, to testify to them that the Church +sanctified their union; that for the husband henceforth his heart was sealed, +and no other woman could ever enter therein; and the husband was to place the +ring upon his wife’s finger in order to show her, in his turn, that +henceforth he alone among all men existed for her. This was the strict union, +without end, the sign of her dependence upon him, which would recall to her +constantly the vows she had made; it was also the promise of a long series of +years, to be passed together, as if by this little circle of gold they were +attached to each other even to the grave. +</p> + +<p> +And while the priest, after the final prayers, exhorted them once more, +Angelique wore always the sweet expression of renunciation; she, the pure soul, +who knew the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the Abbé Cornille withdrew, accompanied by his clerks, the organs +again burst forth with peals of joy. Monseigneur, motionless until now, bent +towards the young couple with an expression of great mildness in his eagle-like +eyes. Still on their knees, the Huberts lifted their heads, blinded by their +tears of joy. And the enormous depths of the organs’ peals rolled and +lost themselves by degrees in a hail of little sharp notes, which were swept +away under the high arches, like the morning song of the lark. There was a long +waving movement, a half-hushed sound amongst the reverential crowd, who filled +to overflowing even the side-aisles and the nave. The church, decorated with +flowers, glittering with the taper lights, seemed beaming with joy from the +Sacrament. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were nearly two hours more of solemn pomp; the Mass being sung and +the incense being burnt. +</p> + +<p> +The officiating clergyman had appeared, dressed in his white chasuble, +accompanied by the director of the ceremonies, two censer-bearers carrying the +censer and the vase of incense, and two acolytes bearing the great golden +candlesticks, in which were lighted tapers. +</p> + +<p> +The presence of Monseigneur complicated the rites, the salutations, and the +kisses. Every moment there were bowings, or bendings of the knee, which kept +the wings of the surplices in constant motion. In the old stalls, with their +backs of carved wood, the whole chapter of canons rose; and then again, at +other times it was as if a breath from heaven prostrated at once the clergy, by +whom the whole apse was filled. The officiating priest chanted at the altar. +When he had finished, he went to one side, and took his seat while the choir in +its turn for a long time continued the solemn phrases of the services in the +fine, clear notes of the young choristers, light and delicate as the flutes of +archangels. Among these voices was a very beautiful one, unusually pure and +crystalline, that of a young girl, and most delicious to hear. It was said to +be that of Mademoiselle Claire de Voincourt, who had wished and obtained +permission to sing at this marriage, which had been so wonderfully secured by a +miracle. The organ which accompanied her appeared to sigh in a softened manner, +with the peaceful calm of a soul at ease and perfectly happy. +</p> + +<p> +There were occasionally short spells of silence. Then the music burst out again +with formidable rollings, while the master of the ceremonies summoned the +acolytes with their chandeliers, and conducted the censer-bearers to the +officiating clergyman, who blessed the incenses in the vases. Now there was +constantly heard the movements of the censer, with the silvery sound of the +little chains as they swung back and forth in the clear light. There was in the +air a bluish, sweet-scented cloud, as they incensed the Bishop, the clergy, the +altar, the Gospel, each person and each thing in its turn, even the close crowd +of people, making the three movements, to the right, to the left, and in front, +to mark the Cross. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Angelique and Felicien, on their knees, listened devoutly to +the Mass, which is significant of the mysterious consummation of the marriage +of Jesus and the Church. There had been given into the hands of each a lighted +candle, symbol of the purity preserved since their baptism. After the +Lord’s Prayer they had remained under the veil, which is a sign of +submission, of bashfulness, and of modesty; and during this time the priest, +standing at the right-hand side of the altar, read the prescribed prayers. They +still held the lighted tapers, which serve also as a sign of remembrance of +death, even in the joy of a happy marriage. And now it was finished, the +offering was made, the officiating clergyman went away, accompanied by the +director of the ceremonies, the incense-bearers, and the acolytes, after having +prayed God to bless the newly-wedded couple, in order that they might live to +see and multiply their children, even to the third and fourth generation. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the entire Cathedral seemed living and exulting with joy. The +March Triumphal was being played upon the organs with such thunder-like peals +that they made the old edifice fairly tremble. The entire crowd of people now +rose, quite excited, and straining themselves to see everything; women even +mounted on the chairs, and there were closely-pressed rows of heads as far back +as the dark chapels of the outer side-aisles. In this vast multitude every face +was smiling, every heart beat with sympathetic joy. In this final adieu the +thousands of tapers appeared to burn still higher, stretching out their flames +like tongues of fire, vacillating under the vaulted arches. A last Hosanna from +the clergy rose up through the flowers and the verdure in the midst of the +luxury of the ornaments and the sacred vessels. But suddenly the great portal +under the organs was opened wide, and the sombre walls of the church were +marked as if by great sheets of daylight. It was the clear April morning, the +living sun of the spring-tide, the Place du Cloître, which was now seen with +its tidy-looking, white houses; and there another crowd, still more numerous, +awaited the coming of the bride and bridegroom, with a more impatient +eagerness, which already showed itself by gestures and acclamations. The +candles had grown paler, and the noises of the street were drowned in the music +of the organs. +</p> + +<p> +With a slow step, between the double hedge of the worshippers, Angelique and +Felicien turned towards the entrance-door. After the triumphant carrying out of +her dream, she was now about to enter into the reality of life. This porch of +broad sunlight opened into the world of which as yet she was entirely ignorant. +She retarded her steps as she looked earnestly at the rows of houses, at the +tumultuous crowd, at all which greeted and acclaimed her. Her weakness was so +intense that her husband was obliged to almost carry her. However, she was +still able to look pleased, as she thought of the princely house, filled with +jewels and with queenly toilettes, where the nuptial chamber awaited her, all +decorated with white silk and lace. Almost suffocated, she was obliged to stop +when halfway down the aisle; then she had sufficient strength to take a few +steps more. She glanced at her wedding ring, so recently placed upon her +finger, and smiled at this sign of eternal union. Then, on the threshold of the +great door, at the top of the steps which went down into the Place du Cloître, +she tottered. Had she not really arrived at the summit of her happiness? Was +not it there that the joy of her life, being perfected, was to end? With a last +effort she raised herself as much as possible, that she might put her lips upon +the lips of Felicien. And in that kiss of love she passed away for ever. +</p> + +<p> +But her death was without sadness. Monseigneur, with his habitual movement of +pastoral benediction, aided this pure soul to free itself from the frail body. +He had regained his calmness, and had once more found in the fulfillment of his +sacred calling the desired-for peace. +</p> + +<p> +The Huberts, unconscious of what had taken place, were still kneeling, grateful +for the pardon at last granted them, and feeling as if re-entering into +existence. For them, as well as for their beloved daughter, the dream was +accomplished. All the Cathedral and the whole town were <i>en fête</i>. The +organs sounded louder than ever; the bells pealed joyously; the multitude +waited to greet the loving couple on the threshold of the mystic church under +the glorious spring sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a beautiful death. Angelique, happy and pure, carried away +suddenly at the moment of the realisation of her fondest dream, taken into the +heavenly life from the dark Romanesque chapels with the flamboyant, +Gothic-vaulted ceiling, from among the gilded decorations and paintings of +ancient times, in the full Paradise of Golden Legends. What more could she have +asked for? +</p> + +<p> +Felicien held in his arms simply a soft and tender form, from which life had +departed; this bridal robe of lace and pearls seemed like the light wings of a +bird, still warm to the touch. For a long time he had well known that he could +claim but a shadow. The exquisite vision that came from the Invisible had +returned to the Invisible. +</p> + +<p> +It was merely a semblance, which effaced itself; the vanishing of an illusion. +</p> + +<p> +Everything is only a dream. +</p> + +<p> +And so, at the moment of supreme earthly happiness, Angelique had disappeared +in the slight breath of a loving kiss. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f508ef4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #9499 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9499) diff --git a/old/9499.txt b/old/9499.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b8d9e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/9499.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9101 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dream, by Emile Zola + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dream + +Author: Emile Zola + +Translator: Eliza E. Chase + +Release Date: April 27, 2006 [EBook #9499] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; Roger Proctor + + + + + +THE DREAM + +(LE REVE) + +By Emile Zola + + +Translated by Eliza E. Chase + + + +CHAPTER I + +During the severe winter of 1860 the river Oise was frozen over and the +plains of Lower Picardy were covered with deep snow. On Christmas Day, +especially, a heavy squall from the north-east had almost buried the +little city of Beaumont. The snow, which began to fall early in the +morning, increased towards evening and accumulated during the night; +in the upper town, in the Rue des Orfevres, at the end of which, as if +enclosed therein, is the northern front of the cathedral transept, +this was blown with great force by the wind against the portal of Saint +Agnes, the old Romanesque portal, where traces of Early Gothic could be +seen, contrasting its florid ornamentation with the bare simplicity of +the transept gable. + +The inhabitants still slept, wearied by the festive rejoicings of the +previous day. The town-clock struck six. In the darkness, which was +slightly lightened by the slow, persistent fall of flakes, a vague +living form alone was visible: that of a little girl, nine years of age, +who, having taken refuge under the archway of the portal, had passed the +night there, shivering, and sheltering herself as well as possible. She +wore a thin woollen dress, ragged from long use, her head was covered +with a torn silk handkerchief, and on her bare feet were heavy shoes +much too large for her. Without doubt she had only gone there after +having well wandered through the town, for she had fallen down from +sheer exhaustion. For her it was the end of the world; there was no +longer anything to interest her. It was the last surrender; the hunger +that gnaws, the cold which kills; and in her weakness, stifled by the +heavy weight at her heart, she ceased to struggle, and nothing was +left to her but the instinctive movement of preservation, the desire of +changing place, of sinking still deeper into these old stones, whenever +a sudden gust made the snow whirl about her. + +Hour after hour passed. For a long time, between the divisions of this +double door, she leaned her back against the abutting pier, on whose +column was a statue of Saint Agnes, the martyr of but thirteen years of +age, a little girl like herself, who carried a branch of palm, and at +whose feet was a lamb. And in the tympanum, above the lintel, the whole +legend of the Virgin Child betrothed to Jesus could be seen in high +relief, set forth with a charming simplicity of faith. Her hair, which +grew long and covered her like a garment when the Governor, whose son +she had refused to marry, gave her up to the soldiers; the flames of +the funeral pile, destined to destroy her, turning aside and burning her +executioners as soon as they lighted the wood; the miracles performed +by her relics; Constance, daughter of the Emperor, cured of leprosy; and +the quaint story of one of her painted images, which, when the priest +Paulinus offered it a very valuable emerald ring, held out its finger, +then withdrew it, keeping the ring, which can be seen at this present +day. At the top of the tympanum, in a halo of glory, Agnes is at last +received into heaven, where her betrothed, Jesus, marries her, so young +and so little, giving her the kiss of eternal happiness. + +But when the wind rushed through the street, the snow was blown in the +child's face, and the threshold was almost barred by the white masses; +then she moved away to the side, against the virgins placed above the +base of the arch. These are the companions of Agnes, the saints who +served as her escort: three at her right--Dorothea, who was fed in +prison by miraculous bread; Barbe, who lived in a tower; and Genevieve, +whose heroism saved Paris: and three at her left--Agatha, whose breast +was torn; Christina, who was put to torture by her father; and Cecilia, +beloved by the angels. Above these were statues and statues; three +close ranks mounting with the curves of the arches, decorating them with +chaste triumphant figures, who, after the suffering and martyrdom +of their earthly life, were welcomed by a host of winged cherubim, +transported with ecstasy into the Celestial Kingdom. + +There had been no shelter for the little waif for a long time, when at +last the clock struck eight and daylight came. The snow, had she not +trampled it down, would have come up to her shoulders. The old door +behind her was covered with it, as if hung with ermine, and it looked +as white as an altar, beneath the grey front of the church, so bare and +smooth that not even a single flake had clung to it. The great saints, +those of the sloping surface especially, were clothed in it, and were +glistening in purity from their feet to their white beards. Still +higher, in the scenes of the tympanum, the outlines of the little saints +of the arches were designed most clearly on a dark background, and this +magic sect continued until the final rapture at the marriage of Agnes, +which the archangels appeared to be celebrating under a shower of white +roses. Standing upon her pillar, with her white branch of palm and her +white lamp, the Virgin Child had such purity in the lines of her body of +immaculate snow, that the motionless stiffness of cold seemed to congeal +around her the mystic transports of victorious youth. And at her feet +the other child, so miserable, white with snow--she also grew so stiff +and pale that it seemed as if she were turning to stone, and could +scarcely be distinguished from the great images above her. + +At last, in one of the long line of houses in which all seemed to be +sleeping, the noise from the drawing up of a blind made her raise her +eyes. It was at her right hand, in the second story of a house at the +side of the Cathedral. A very handsome woman, a brunette about forty +years of age, with a placid expression of serenity, was just looking out +from there, and in spite of the terrible frost she kept her uncovered +arm in the air for a moment, having seen the child move. Her calm face +grew sad with pity and astonishment. Then, shivering, she hastily closed +the window. She carried with her the rapid vision of a fair little +creature with violet-coloured eyes under a head-covering of an old silk +handkerchief. The face was oval, the neck long and slender as a lily, +and the shoulders drooping; but she was blue from cold, her little hands +and feet were half dead, and the only thing about her that still showed +life was the slight vapour of her breath. + +The child remained with her eyes upturned, looking at the house +mechanically. It was a narrow one, two stories in height, very old, and +evidently built towards the end of the fifteenth century. It was almost +sealed to the side of the Cathedral, between two buttresses, like a wart +which had pushed itself between the two toes of a Colossus. And thus +supported on each side, it was admirably preserved, with its stone +basement, its second story in wooden panels, ornamented with bricks, +its roof, of which the framework advanced at least three feet beyond the +gable, its turret for the projecting stairway at the left corner, where +could still be seen in the little window the leaden setting of long ago. +At times repairs had been made on account of its age. The tile-roofing +dated from the reign of Louis XIV, for one easily recognised the work +of that epoch; a dormer window pierced in the side of the turret, little +wooden frames replacing everywhere those of the primitive panes; the +three united openings of the second story had been reduced to two, that +of the middle being closed up with bricks, thus giving to the front the +symmetry of the other buildings on the street of a more recent date. + +In the basement the changes were equally visible, an oaken door with +mouldings having taken the place of the old one with iron trimmings that +was under the stairway; and the great central arcade, of which the lower +part, the sides, and the point had been plastered over, so as to leave +only one rectangular opening, was now a species of large window, instead +of the triple-pointed one which formerly came out on to the street. + +Without thinking, the child still looked at this venerable dwelling of a +master-builder, so well preserved, and as she read upon a little yellow +plate nailed at the left of the door these words, "Hubert, chasuble +maker," printed in black letters, she was again attracted by the sound +of the opening of a shutter. This time it was the blind of the square +window of the ground floor. A man in his turn looked out; his face was +full, his nose aquiline, his forehead projecting, and his thick short +hair already white, although he was scarcely yet five-and-forty. He, +too, forgot the air for a moment as he examined her with a sad wrinkle +on his great tender mouth. Then she saw him, as he remained standing +behind the little greenish-looking panes. He turned, beckoned to +someone, and his wife reappeared. How handsome she was! They both stood +side by side, looking at her earnestly and sadly. + +For four hundred years, the line of Huberts, embroiderers from father +to son, had lived in this house. A noted maker of chasubles had built it +under Louis XI, another had repaired it under Louis XIV, and the Hubert +who now occupied it still embroidered church vestments, as his ancestors +had always done. At twenty years of age he had fallen in love with a +young girl of sixteen, Hubertine, and so deep was their affection for +each other, that when her mother, widow of a magistrate, refused to give +her consent to their union, they ran away together and were married. She +was remarkably beautiful, and that was their whole romance, their joy, +and their misfortune. + +When, a year later, she went to the deathbed of her mother, the latter +disinherited her and gave her her curse. So affected was she by the +terrible scene, that her infant, born soon after, died, and since then +it seemed as if, even in her coffin in the cemetery, the willful +woman had never pardoned her daughter, for it was, alas! a childless +household. After twenty-four years they still mourned the little one +they had lost. + +Disturbed by their looks, the stranger tried to hide herself behind the +pillar of Saint Agnes. She was also annoyed by the movement which now +commenced in the street, as the shops were being opened and people began +to go out. The Rue des Orfevres, which terminates at the side front of +the church, would be almost impassable, blocked in as it is on one side +by the house of the Huberts, if the Rue du Soleil, a narrow lane, did +not relieve it on the other side by running the whole length of the +Cathedral to the great front on the Place du Cloitre. At this hour there +were few passers, excepting one or two persons who were on their way to +early service, and they looked with surprise at the poor little girl, +whom they did not recognise as ever having seen at Beaumont. The slow, +persistent fall of snow continued. The cold seemed to increase with the +wan daylight, and in the dull thickness of the great white shroud which +covered the town one heard, as if from a distance, the sound of voices. +But timid, ashamed of her abandonment, as if it were a fault, the +child drew still farther back, when suddenly she recognised before her +Hubertine, who, having no servant, had gone out to buy bread. + +"What are you doing there, little one? Who are you?" + +She did not answer, but hid her face. Then she was no longer conscious +of suffering; her whole being seemed to have faded away, as if her +heart, turned to ice, had stopped beating. When the good lady turned +away with a pitying look, she sank down upon her knees completely +exhausted, and slipped listlessly into the snow, whose flakes quickly +covered her. + +And the woman, as she returned with her fresh rolls, seeing that she had +fallen, again approached her. + +"Look up, my child! You cannot remain here on this doorstep." + +Then Hubert, who had also come out, and was standing near the threshold, +took the bread from his wife, and said: + +"Take her up and bring her into the house." + +Hubertine did not reply, but, stooping, lifted her in her strong arms. +And the child shrank back no longer, but was carried as if inanimate; +her teeth closely set, her eyes shut, chilled through and through, and +with the lightness of a little bird that had just fallen from its nest. + +They went in. Hubert shut the door, while Hubertine, bearing her burden, +passed through the front room, which served as a parlour, and where +some embroidered bands were spread out for show before the great +square window. Then she went into the kitchen, the old servants' hall, +preserved almost intact, with its heavy beams, its flagstone floor +mended in a dozen places, and its great fireplace with its stone +mantelpiece. On shelves were the utensils, the pots, kettles, and +saucepans, that dated back one or two centuries; and the dishes were +of old stone, or earthenware, and of pewter. But on the middle of the +hearth was a modern cooking-stove, a large cast-iron one, whose copper +trimmings were wondrously bright. It was red from heat, and the +water was bubbling away in its boiler. A large porringer, filled with +coffee-and-milk, was on one corner of it. + +"Oh! how much more comfortable it is here than outside," said Hubert, as +he put the bread down on a heavy table of the style of Louis XIII, which +was in the centre of the room. "Now, seat this poor little creature near +the stove that she may be thawed out!" + +Hubertine had already placed the child close to the fire, and they both +looked at her as she slowly regained consciousness. As the snow that +covered her clothes melted it fell in heavy drops. Through the holes of +her great shoes they could see her little bruised feet, whilst the thin +woollen dress designed the rigidity of her limbs and her poor body, worn +by misery and pain. She had a long attack of nervous trembling, and then +opened her frightened eyes with the start of an animal which suddenly +awakes from sleep to find itself caught in a snare. Her face seemed to +sink away under the silken rag which was tied under her chin. Her +right arm appeared to be helpless, for she pressed it so closely to her +breast. + +"Do not be alarmed, for we will not hurt you. Where did you come from? +Who are you?" + +But the more she was spoken to the more frightened she became, turning +her head as if someone were behind her who would beat her. She examined +the kitchen furtively, the flaggings, the beams, and the shining +utensils; then her glance passed through the irregular windows which +were left in the ancient opening, and she saw the garden clear to the +trees by the Bishop's house, whose white shadows towered above the wall +at the end, while at the left, as if astonished at finding itself there, +stretched along the whole length of the alley the Cathedral, with its +Romanesque windows in the chapels of its apses. And again, from the +heat of the stove which began to penetrate her, she had a long attack +of shivering, after which she turned her eyes to the floor and remained +quiet. + +"Do you belong to Beaumont? Who is your father?" + +She was so entirely silent that Hubert thought her throat must be too +dry to allow her to speak. + +Instead of questioning her he said: "We would do much better to give her +a cup of coffee as hot as she can drink it." + +That was so reasonable that Hubertine immediately handed her the cup +she herself held. Whilst she cut two large slices of bread and buttered +them, the child, still mistrustful, continued to shrink back; but her +hunger was too great, and soon she ate and drank ravenously. That there +need not be a restraint upon her, the husband and wife were silent, and +were touched to tears on seeing her little hand tremble to such a degree +that at times it was difficult for her to reach her mouth. She made use +only of her left hand, for her right arm seemed to be fastened to her +chest. When she had finished, she almost broke the cup, which she caught +again by an awkward movement of her elbow. + +"Have you hurt your arm badly?" Hubertine asked. "Do not be afraid, my +dear, but show it to me." + +But as she was about to touch it the child rose up hastily, trying +to prevent her, and as in the struggle she moved her arm, a little +pasteboard-covered book, which she had hidden under her dress, slipped +through a large tear in her waist. She tried to take it, and when she +saw her unknown hosts open and begin to read it, she clenched her fist +in anger. + +It was an official certificate, given by the Administration des Enfants +Assistes in the Department of the Seine. On the first page, under a +medallion containing a likeness of Saint Vincent de Paul, were the +printed prescribed forms. For the family name, a simple black line +filled the allotted space. Then for the Christian names were those of +Angelique Marie; for the dates, born January 22, 1851, admitted the 23rd +of the same month under the registered number of 1,634. So there was +neither father nor mother; there were no papers; not even a statement of +where she was born; nothing but this little book of official coldness, +with its cover of pale red pasteboard. No relative in the world! and +even her abandonment numbered and classed! + +"Oh! then she is a foundling!" exclaimed Hubertine. + +In a paroxysm of rage the child replied: "I am much better than all +the others--yes--yes! I am better, better, better. I have never taken +anything that did not belong to me, and yet they stole all I had. Give +me back, now, that which you also have stolen from me!" + +Such powerless passion, such pride to be above the others in goodness, +so shook the body of the little girl, that the Huberts were startled. +They no longer recognised the blonde creature, with violet eyes and +graceful figure. Now her eyes were black, her face dark, and her neck +seemed swollen by a rush of blood to it. Since she had become warm, she +raised her head and hissed like a serpent that had been picked up on the +snow. + +"Are you then really so naughty?" asked Hubert gently. "If we wish to +know all about you, it is because we wish to help you." + +And looking over the shoulders of his wife he read as the latter turned +the leaves of the little book. On the second page was the name of the +nurse. "The child, Angelique Marie, had been given, on January 25, 1851, +to the nurse, Francoise, sister of Mr. Hamelin, a farmer by profession, +living in the parish of Soulanges, an arrondissement of Nevers. The +aforesaid nurse had received on her departure the pay for the first +month of her care, in addition to her clothing." Then there was a +certificate of her baptism, signed by the chaplain of the Asylum for +Abandoned Children; also that of the physician on the arrival and on +the departure of the infant. The monthly accounts, paid in quarterly +installments, filled farther on the columns of four pages, and each time +there was the illegible signature of the receiver or collector. + +"What! Nevers!" asked Hubertine. "You were brought up near Nevers?" + +Angelique, red with anger that she could not prevent them from reading, +had fallen into a sullen silence. But at last she opened her mouth to +speak of her nurse. + +"Ah! you may be sure that Maman Nini would have beaten you. She always +took my part against others, she did, although sometimes she struck me +herself. Ah! it is true I was not so unhappy over there, with the cattle +and all!" + +Her voice choked her and she continued, in broken, incoherent sentences, +to speak of the meadow where she drove the great red cow, of the broad +road where she played, of the cakes they cooked, and of a pet house-dog +that had once bitten her. + +Hubert interrupted her as he read aloud: "In case of illness, or of bad +treatment, the superintendent is authorised to change the nurses of the +children." Below it was written that the child Angelique Marie had been +given on June 20 to the care of Theresa, wife of Louis Franchomme, both +of them makers of artificial flowers in Paris. + +"Ah! I understand," said Hubertine. "You were ill, and so they took you +back to Paris." + +But no, that was not the case, and the Huberts did not know the whole +history until they had drawn it, little by little from Angelique. Louis +Franchomme, who was a cousin of Maman Nini, went to pass a month in his +native village when recovering from a fever. It was then that his wife, +Theresa, became very fond of the child, and obtained permission to take +her to Paris, where she could be taught the trade of making flowers. +Three months later her husband died, and she herself, being delicate in +health, was obliged to leave the city and to go to her brother's, the +tanner Rabier, who was settled at Beaumont. She, alas! died in the early +days of December, and confided to her sister-in-law the little girl, +who since that time had been injured, beaten, and, in short, suffered +martyrdom. + +"The Rabiers?" said Hubert. "The Rabiers? Yes, yes! They are tanners on +the banks of the Ligneul, in the lower town. The husband is lame, and +the wife is a noted scold." + +"They treated me as if I came from the gutter," continued Angelique, +revolted and enraged in her mortified pride. "They said the river was +the best place for me. After she had beaten me nearly to death, the +woman would put something on the floor for me to eat, as if I were a +cat, and many a time I went to bed suffering from hunger. Oh! I could +have killed myself, at last!" She made a gesture of furious despair. + +"Yesterday, Christmas morning, they had been drinking, and, to amuse +themselves, they threatened to put out my eyes. Then, after a while, +they began to fight with each other, and dealt such heavy blows that I +thought they were dead, as they both fell on the floor of their room. +For a long time I had determined to run away. But I was anxious to have +my book. Maman Nini had often said, in showing it to me: 'Look, this is +all that you own, and if you do not keep this you will not even have a +name.' And I know that since the death of Maman Theresa they had hid +it in one of the bureau drawers. So stepping over them as quietly as +possible, while they were lying on the floor, I got the book, hid it +under my dress-waist, pressing it against me with my arm. It seemed so +large that I fancied everyone must see it, and that it would be taken +from me. Oh! I ran, and ran, and ran, and when night came it was so +dark! Oh! how cold I was under the poor shelter of that great door! Oh +dear! I was so cold, it seemed as if I were dead. But never mind now, +for I did not once let go of my book, and here it is." And with a sudden +movement, as the Huberts closed it to give it back to her, she snatched +it from them. Then, sitting down, she put her head on the table, sobbing +deeply as she laid her cheek on the light red cover. Her pride seemed +conquered by an intense humility. Her whole being appeared to +be softened by the sight of these few leaves with their rumpled +corners--her solitary possession, her one treasure, and the only tie +which connected her with the life of this world. She could not relieve +her heart of her great despair; her tears flowed continually, and under +this complete surrender of herself she regained her delicate looks and +became again a pretty child. Her slightly oval face was pure in its +outlines, her violet eyes were made a little paler from emotion, and the +curve of her neck and shoulders made her resemble a little virgin on a +church window. At length she seized the hand of Hubertine, pressed it to +her lips most caressingly, and kissed it passionately. + +The Huberts were deeply touched, and could scarcely speak. They +stammered: "Dear, dear child!" + +She was not, then, in reality bad! Perhaps with affectionate care she +could be corrected of this violence of temper which had so alarmed them. + +In a tone of entreaty the poor child exclaimed: "Do not send me back to +those dreadful people! Oh, do not send me back again!" + +The husband and wife looked at each other for a few moments. In fact, +since the autumn they had planned taking as an apprentice some young +girl who would live with them, and thus bring a little brightness into +their house, which seemed so dull without children. And their decision +was soon made. + +"Would you like it, my dear?" Hubert asked. + +Hubertine replied quietly, in her calm voice: "I would indeed." + +Immediately they occupied themselves with the necessary formalities. +The husband went to the Justice of Peace of the northern district of +Beaumont, who was cousin to his wife, the only relative with whom she +had kept up an acquaintance, and told him all the facts of the case. He +took charge of it, wrote to the Hospice of Abandoned Children--where, +thanks to the registered number, Angelique was easily recognised--and +obtained permission for her to remain as apprentice with the Huberts, +who were well known for their honourable position. + +The Sub-Inspector of the Hospice, on coming to verify the little book, +signed the new contract as witness for Hubert, by which the latter +promised to treat the child kindly, to keep her tidy, to send her to +school and to church, and to give her a good bed to herself. On the +other side, the Administration agreed to pay him all indemnities, and +to give the child certain stipulated articles of clothing, as was their +custom. + +In ten days all was arranged. Angelique slept upstairs in a room under +the roof, by the side of the garret, and the windows of which overlooked +the garden. She had already taken her first lessons in embroidery. The +first Sunday morning after she was in her new home, before going to +mass, Hubertine opened before her the old chest in the working-room, +where she kept the fine gold thread. She held up the little book, then, +placing it in that back part of one of the drawers, said: "Look! I have +put it here. I will not hide it, but leave it where you can take it if +you ever wish to do so. It is best that you should see it, and remember +where it is." + +On entering the church that day, Angelique found herself again under the +doorway of Saint Agnes. During the week there had been a partial thaw, +then the cold weather had returned to so intense a degree that the +snow which had half melted on the statues had congealed itself in large +bunches or in icicles. Now, the figures seemed dressed in transparent +robes of ice, with lace trimmings like spun glass. Dorothea was holding +a torch, the liquid droppings of which fell upon her hands. Cecilia +wore a silver crown, in which glistened the most brilliant of pearls. +Agatha's nude chest was protected by a crystal armour. And the scenes +in the tympanum, the little virgins in the arches, looked as if they had +been there for centuries, behind the glass and jewels of the shrine of +a saint. Agnes herself let trail behind her her court mantle, threaded +with light and embroidered with stars. Her lamb had a fleece of +diamonds, and her palm-branch had become the colour of heaven. The whole +door was resplendent in the purity of intense cold. + +Angelique recollected the night she had passed there under the +protection of these saints. She raised her head and smiled upon them. + + + +CHAPTER II + +Beaumont is composed of two villages, completely separated and quite +distinct one from the other--Beaumont-l'Eglise, on the hill with its old +Cathedral of the twelfth century, its Bishop's Palace which dates only +from the seventeenth century, its inhabitants, scarcely one thousand in +number, who are crowded together in an almost stifling way in its narrow +streets; and Beaumont-la-Ville, at the foot of the hill, on the banks of +the Ligneul, an ancient suburb, which the success of its manufactories +of lace and fine cambric has enriched and enlarged to such an extent +that it has a population of nearly ten thousand persons, several public +squares, and an elegant sub-prefecture built in the modern style. These +two divisions, the northern district and the southern district, have +thus no longer anything in common except in an administrative way. +Although scarcely thirty leagues from Paris, where one can go by rail +in two hours, Beaumont-l'Eglise seems to be still immured in its old +ramparts, of which, however, only three gates remain. A stationary, +peculiar class of people lead there a life similar to that which their +ancestors had led from father to son during the past five hundred years. + +The Cathedral explains everything, has given birth to and preserved +everything. It is the mother, the queen, as it rises in all its majesty +in the centre of, and above, the little collection of low houses, which, +like shivering birds, are sheltered under her wings of stone. One lives +there simply for it, and only by it. There is no movement of business +activity, and the little tradesmen only sell the necessities of life, +such as are absolutely required to feed, to clothe, and to maintain +the church and its clergy; and if occasionally one meets some private +individuals, they are merely the last representatives of a scattered +crowd of worshippers. The church dominates all; each street is one of +its veins; the town has no other breath than its own. On that account, +this spirit of another age, this religious torpor from the past, makes +the cloistered city which surrounds it redolent with a savoury perfume +of peace and of faith. + +And in all this mystic place, the house of the Huberts, where Angelique +was to live in the future, was the one nearest to the Cathedral, +and which clung to it as if in reality it were a part thereof. The +permission to build there, between two of the great buttresses, must +have been given by some vicar long ago, who was desirous of attaching +to himself the ancestors of this line of embroiderers, as master +chasuble-makers and furnishers for the Cathedral clergy. On the southern +side, the narrow garden was barred by the colossal building; first, +the circumference of the side chapels, whose windows overlooked the +flower-beds, and then the slender, long nave, that the flying buttresses +supported, and afterwards the high roof covered with the sheet lead. + +The sun never penetrated to the lower part of this garden, where ivy and +box alone grew luxuriantly; yet the eternal shadow there was very soft +and pleasant as it fell from the gigantic brow of the apse--a religious +shadow, sepulchral and pure, which had a good odour about it. In the +greenish half-light of its calm freshness, the two towers let fall +only the sound of their chimes. But the entire house kept the quivering +therefrom, sealed as it was to these old stones, melted into them and +supported by them. It trembled at the least of the ceremonies; at the +High Mass, the rumbling of the organ, the voices of the choristers, even +the oppressed sighs of the worshippers, murmured through each one of +its rooms, lulled it as if with a holy breath from the Invisible, and +at times through the half-cool walls seemed to come the vapours from the +burning incense. + +For five years Angelique lived and grew there, as if in a cloister, far +away from the world. She only went out to attend the seven-o'clock Mass +on Sunday mornings, as Hubertine had obtained permission for her to +study at home, fearing that, if sent to school, she might not always +have the best of associates. This old dwelling, so shut in, with its +garden of a dead quiet, was her world. She occupied as her chamber a +little whitewashed room under the roof; she went down in the morning to +her breakfast in the kitchen, she went up again to the working-room in +the second story to her embroidery. And these places, with the turning +stone stairway of the turret, were the only corners in which she passed +her time; for she never went into the Huberts' apartments, and only +crossed the parlour on the first floor, and they were the two rooms +which had been rejuvenated and modernised. In the parlour, the beams +were plastered over, and the ceiling had been decorated with a palm-leaf +cornice, accompanied by a rose centre; the wall-paper dated from the +First Empire, as well as the white marble chimney-piece and the mahogany +furniture, which consisted of a sofa and four armchairs covered with +Utrecht velvet, a centre table, and a cabinet. + +On the rare occasions when she went there, to add to the articles +exposed for sale some new bands of embroidery, if she cast her eyes +without, she saw through the window the same unchanging vista, the +narrow street ending at the portal of Saint Agnes; a parishioner pushing +open the little lower door, which shut itself without any noise, and the +shops of the plate-worker and wax-candle-maker opposite, which appeared +to be always empty, but where was a display of holy sacramental vessels, +and long lines of great church tapers. And the cloistral calm of all +Beaumont-l'Eglise--of the Rue Magloire, back of the Bishop's Palace, +of the Grande Rue, where the Rue de Orfevres began, and of the Place du +Cloitre, where rose up the two towers, was felt in the drowsy air, and +seemed to fall gently with the pale daylight on the deserted pavement. + +Hubertine had taken upon herself the charge of the education of +Angelique. Moreover, she was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and +maintained that a woman knew enough if she could read well, write +correctly, and had studied thoroughly the first four rules of +arithmetic. But even for this limited instruction she had constantly to +contend with an unwillingness on the part of her pupil, who, instead of +giving her attention to her books, preferred looking out of the windows, +although the recreation was very limited, as she could see nothing but +the garden from them. In reality, Angelique cared only for reading; +notwithstanding in her dictations, chosen from some classic writer, she +never succeeded in spelling a page correctly, yet her handwriting was +exceedingly pretty, graceful, and bold, one of those irregular styles +which were quite the fashion long ago. As for other studies, of +geography and history and cyphering, she was almost completely ignorant +of them. What good would knowledge ever do her? It was really useless, +she thought. Later on, when it was time for her to be Confirmed, she +learned her Catechism word for word, and with so fervent an ardour that +she astonished everyone by the exactitude of her memory. + +Notwithstanding their gentleness, during the first year the Huberts +were often discouraged. Angelique, who promised to be skilful in +embroidering, disconcerted them by sudden changes to inexplicable +idleness after days of praiseworthy application. She was capricious, +seemed to lose her strength, became greedy, would steal sugar to eat +when alone, and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked wearied +under their reddened lids. If reproved, she would reply with a flood of +injurious words. Some days, when they wished to try to subdue her, her +foolish pride at being interfered with would throw her into such serious +attacks that she would strike her feet and her hands together, and +seemed ready to tear her clothing, or to bite anyone who approached +her. At such moments they drew away from her, for she was like a little +monster ruled by the evil sprit within her. + +Who could she be? Where did she come from? Almost always these abandoned +children are the offspring of vice. Twice they had resolved to give +her up and send her back to the Asylum, so discouraged were they and so +deeply did they regret having taken her. But each time these frightful +scenes, which almost made the house tremble, ended in the same deluge of +tears, and the same excited expressions and acts of penitence, when the +child would throw herself on the floor, begging them so earnestly to +punish her that they were obliged to forgive her. + +Little by little, Hubertine gained great authority over her. She was +peculiarly adapted for such a task, with her kind heart, her gentle +firmness, her common-sense and her uniform temper. She taught her the +duty of obedience and the sin of pride and of passion. To obey was to +live. We must obey God, our parents, and our superiors. There was a +whole hierarchy of respect, outside of which existence was unrestrained +and disorderly. So, after each fit of passion, that she might learn +humility, some menial labour was imposed upon her as a penance, such as +washing the cooking-utensils, or wiping up the kitchen floor; and, until +it was finished, she would remain stooping over her work, enraged at +first, but conquered at last. + +With the little girl excess seemed to be a marked characteristic in +everything, even in her caresses. Many times Hubertine had seen her +kissing her hands with vehemence. She would often be in a fever of +ecstasy before the little pictures of saints and of the Child +Jesus, which she had collected; and one evening she was found in a +half-fainting state, with her head upon the table, and her lips pressed +to those of the images. When Hubertine confiscated them there was +a terrible scene of tears and cries, as if she herself were being +tortured. After that she was held very strictly, was made to obey, and +her freaks were at once checked by keeping her busy at her work; as +soon as her cheeks grew very red, her eyes dark, and she had nervous +tremblings, everything was immediately made quiet about her. + +Moreover, Hubertine had found an unexpected aid in the book given by the +Society for the Protection of Abandoned Children. Every three months, +when the collector signed it, Angelique was very low-spirited for the +rest of the day. If by chance she saw it when she went to the drawer for +a ball of gold thread, her heart seemed pierced with agony. And one day, +when in a fit of uncontrollable fury, which nothing had been able +to conquer, she turned over the contents of the drawer, she suddenly +appeared as if thunderstruck before the red-covered book. Her sobs +stifled her. She threw herself at the feet of the Huberts in great +humility, stammering that they had made a mistake in giving her shelter, +and that she was not worthy of all their kindness. From that time her +anger was frequently restrained by the sight or the mention of the book. + +In this way Angelique lived until she was twelve years of age and +ready to be Confirmed. The calm life of the household, the little +old-fashioned building sleeping under the shadow of the Cathedral, +perfumed with incense, and penetrated with religious music, favoured the +slow amelioration of this untutored nature, this wild flower, taken from +no one knew where, and transplanted in the mystic soil of the narrow +garden. Added to this was the regularity of her daily work and the utter +ignorance of what was going on in the world, without even an echo from a +sleepy quarter penetrating therein. + +But, above all, the gentlest influence came from the great love of the +Huberts for each other, which seemed to be enlarged by some unknown, +incurable remorse. He passed the days in endeavouring to make his +wife forget the injury he had done her in marrying her in spite of the +opposition of her mother. He had realised at the death of their child +that she half accused him of this punishment, and he wished to be +forgiven. She had done so years ago, and now she idolised him. Sometimes +he was not sure of it, and this doubt saddened his life. He wished they +might have had another infant, and so feel assured that the obstinate +mother had been softened after death, and had withdrawn her malediction. +That, in fact, was their united desire--a child of pardon; and he +worshipped his wife with a tender love, ardent and pure as that of a +betrothed. If before the apprentice he did not even kiss her hand, +he never entered their chamber, even after twenty years of marriage, +without an emotion of gratitude for all the happiness that had +been given him. This was their true home, this room with its tinted +paintings, its blue wall-paper, its pretty hangings, and its walnut +furniture. Never was an angry word uttered therein, and, as if from a +sanctuary, a sentiment of tenderness went out from its occupants, and +filled the house. It was thus for Angelique an atmosphere of affection +and love, in which she grew and thrived. + +An unexpected event finished the work of forming her character. As she +was rummaging one morning in a corner of the working-room, she found +on a shelf, among implements of embroidery which were no longer used, +a very old copy of the "Golden Legend," by Jacques de Voragine. This +French translation, dating from 1549, must have been bought in the +long ago by some master-workman in church vestments, on account of the +pictures, full of useful information upon the Saints. It was a great +while since Angelique had given any attention to the little old carved +images, showing such childlike faith, which had once delighted her. But +now, as soon as she was allowed to go out and play in the garden, she +took the book with her. It had been rebound in yellow calf, and was in +a good condition. She slowly turned over some of the leaves, then looked +at the title-page, in red and black, with the address of the bookseller: +"a Paris, en la rue Neufre Nostre-Dame, a l'enseigne Saint Jehan +Baptiste;" and decorated with medallions of the four Evangelists, framed +at the bottom by the Adoration of the Three Magi, and at the top by the +Triumph of Jesus Christ, and His resurrection. And then picture after +picture followed; there were ornamented letters, large and small, +engravings in the text and at the heading of the chapters; "The +Annunciation," an immense angel inundating with rays of light a slight, +delicate-looking Mary; "The Massacre of the Innocents," where a cruel +Herod was seen surrounded by dead bodies of dear little children; "The +Nativity," where Saint Joseph is holding a candle, the light of which +falls upon the face of the Infant Jesus, Who sleeps in His mother's +arms; Saint John the Almoner, giving to the poor; Saint Matthias, +breaking an idol; Saint Nicholas as a bishop, having at his right hand +a little bucket filled with babies. And then, a little farther on, came +the female saints: Agnes, with her neck pierced by a sword; Christina, +torn by pincers; Genevieve, followed by her lambs; Juliana, being +whipped; Anastasia, burnt; Maria the Egyptian, repenting in the desert, +Mary of Magdalene, carrying the vase of precious ointment; and others +and still others followed. There was an increasing terror and a piety +in each one of them, making it a history which weighs upon the heart and +fills the eyes with tears. + +But, little by little, Angelique was curious to know exactly what these +engravings represented. The two columns of closely-printed text, the +impression of which remained very black upon the papers yellowed by +time, frightened her by the strange, almost barbaric look of the +Gothic letters. Still, she accustomed herself to it, deciphered these +characters, learned the abbreviations and the contractions, and soon +knew how to explain the turning of the phrases and the old-fashioned +words. At last she could read it easily, and was as enchanted as if she +were penetrating a mystery, and she triumphed over each new difficulty +that she conquered. + +Under these laborious shades a whole world of light revealed itself. She +entered, as it were, into a celestial splendour. For now the few classic +books they owned, so cold and dry, existed no longer. The Legend alone +interested her. She bent over it, with her forehead resting on her +hands, studying it so intently, that she no longer lived in the real +life, but, unconscious of time, she seemed to see, mounting from the +depths of the unknown, the broad expansion of a dream. + +How wonderful it all was! These saints and virgins! They are born +predestined; solemn voices announce their coming, and their mothers have +marvellous dreams about them. All are beautiful, strong, and victorious. +Great lights surround them, and their countenances are resplendent. +Dominic has a star on his forehead. They read the minds of men and +repeat their thoughts aloud. They have the gift of prophecy, and their +predictions are always realised. Their number is infinite. Among them +are bishops and monks, virgins and fallen women, beggars and nobles of a +royal race, unclothed hermits who live on roots, and old men who inhabit +caverns with goats. Their history is always the same. They grow up for +Christ, believe fervently in Him, refuse to sacrifice to false gods, +are tortured, and die filled with glory. Emperors were at last weary of +persecuting them. Andrew, after being attached to the cross, preached +during two days to twenty thousand persons. Conversions were made +in masses, forty thousand men being baptised at one time. When the +multitudes were not converted by the miracles, they fled terrified. The +saints were accused of sorcery; enigmas were proposed to them, which +they solved at once; they were obliged to dispute questions with learned +men, who remained speechless before them. As soon as they entered the +temples of sacrifice the idols were overthrown with a breath, and were +broken to pieces. A virgin tied her sash around the neck of a statue of +Venus, which at once fell in powder. The earth trembled. The Temple of +Diana was struck by lightning and destroyed; and the people revolting, +civil wars ensued. Then often the executioners asked to be baptised; +kings knelt at the feet of saints in rags who had devoted themselves to +poverty. Sabina flees from the paternal roof. Paula abandons her five +children. Mortifications of the flesh and fasts purify, not oil or +water. Germanus covers his food with ashes. Bernard cares not to eat, +but delights only in the taste of fresh water. Agatha keeps for three +years a pebble in her mouth. Augustinus is in despair for the sin he has +committed in turning to look after a dog who was running. Prosperity and +health are despised, and joy begins with privations which kill the body. +And it is thus that, subduing all things, they live at last in gardens +where the flowers are stars, and where the leaves of the trees sing. +They exterminate dragons, they raise and appease tempests, they seem +in their ecstatic visions to be borne above the earth. Their wants are +provided for while living, and after their death friends are advised +by dreams to go and bury them. Extraordinary things happen to them, and +adventures far more marvellous than those in a work of fiction. And +when their tombs are opened after hundreds of years, sweet odours escape +therefrom. + +Then, opposite the saints, behold the evil spirits! + +"They often fly about us like insects, and fill the air without number. +The air is also full of demons, as the rays of the sun are full of +atoms. It is even like powder." And the eternal contest begins. The +saints are always victorious, and yet they are constantly obliged to +renew the battle. The more the demons are driven away, the more they +return. There were counted six thousand six hundred and sixty-six in the +body of a woman whom Fortunatus delivered. They moved, they talked and +cried, by the voice of the person possessed, whose body they shook as if +by a tempest. At each corner of the highways an afflicted one is seen, +and the first saint who passes contends with the evil spirits. They +enter by the eyes, the ears, and by the mouth, and, after days of +fearful struggling, they go out with loud groanings. Basilus, to save a +young man, contends personally with the Evil One. Macarius was attacked +when in a cemetery, and passed a whole night in defending himself. The +angels, even at deathbeds, in order to secure the soul of the dying were +obliged to beat the demons. At other times the contests are only of the +intellect and the mind, but are equally remarkable. Satan, who prowls +about, assumes many forms, sometimes disguising himself as a woman, +and again, even as a saint. But, once overthrown, he appears in all his +ugliness: "a black cat, larger than a dog, his huge eyes emitting flame, +his tongue long, large, and bloody, his tail twisted and raised in the +air, and his whole body disgusting to the last degree." He is the one +thing that is hated, and the only preoccupation. People fear him, +yet ridicule him. One is not even honest with him. In reality, +notwithstanding the ferocious appearance of his furnaces, he is the +eternal dupe. All the treaties he makes are forced from him by violence +or cunning. Feeble women throw him down: Margaret crushes his head with +her feet, and Juliana beats him with her chain. From all this a serenity +disengages itself, a disdain of evil, since it is powerless, and a +certainty of good, since virtue triumphs. It is only necessary to cross +one's self, and the Devil can do no harm, but yells and disappears, +while the infernal regions tremble. + +Then, in this combat of legions of saints against Satan are developed +the fearful sufferings from persecutions. The executioners expose to the +flies the martyrs whose bodies are covered with honey; they make them +walk with bare feet over broken glass or red-hot coals, put them in +ditches with reptiles; chastise them with whips, whose thongs are +weighted with leaden balls; nail them when alive in coffins, which they +throw into the sea; hang them by their hair, and then set fire to them; +moisten their wounds with quicklime, boiling pitch, or molten lead; make +them sit on red-hot iron stools; burn their sides with torches; break +their bones on wheels, and torture them in every conceivable way. And, +with all this, physical pain counts for nothing; indeed, it seems to be +desired. Moreover, a continual miracle protects them. John drinks +poison but is unharmed. Sebastian smiles although pierced with arrows; +sometimes they remain in the air at the right or left of the martyr, or, +launched by the archer, they return upon himself and put out his eyes. +Molten lead is swallowed as if it were ice-water. Lions prostrate +themselves, and lick their hands as gently as lambs. The gridiron of +Saint Lawrence is of an agreeable freshness to him. He cries, "Unhappy +man, you have roasted one side, turn the other and then eat, for it is +sufficiently cooked." Cecilia, placed in a boiling bath, is refreshed +by it. Christina exhorts those who would torture her. Her father had +her whipped by twelve men, who at last drop from fatigue; she is then +attached to a wheel, under which a fire is kindled, and the flame, +turning to one side, devours fifteen hundred persons. She is then thrown +into the sea, but the angels support her; Jesus comes to baptise her +in person, then gives her to the charge of Saint Michael, that he may +conduct her back to the earth; after that she is placed for five days in +a heated oven, where she suffers not, but sings constantly. Vincent, +who was exposed to still greater tortures, feels them not. His limbs are +broken, he is covered with red-hot irons, he is pricked with needles, +he is placed on a brazier of live coals, and then taken back to prison, +where his feet are nailed to a post. Yet he still lives, and his +pains are changed into a sweetness of flowers, a great light fills his +dungeon, and angels sing with him, giving him rest as if he were on a +bed of roses. The sweet sound of singing, and the fresh odour of flowers +spread without in the room, and when the guards saw the miracle they +were converted to the faith, and when Dacian heard of it, he was greatly +enraged, and said, "Do nothing more to him, for we are conquered." Such +was the excitement among the persecutors, it could only end either by +their conversion or by their death. Their hands are paralysed; they +perish violently; they are choked by fish-bones; they are struck by +lightning, and their chariots are broken. In the meanwhile, the cells of +the martyrs are resplendent. Mary and the Apostles enter them at will, +although the doors are bolted. Constant aid is given, apparitions +descend from the skies, where angels are waiting, holding crowns of +precious stones. Since death seems joyous, it is not feared, and their +friends are glad when they succumb to it. On Mount Ararat ten thousand +are crucified, and at Cologne eleven thousand virgins are massacred by +the Huns. In the circuses they are devoured by wild beasts. Quirique, +who, by the influence of the Holy Spirit, taught like a man, suffered +martyrdom when but three years of age. Nursing-children reproved the +executioners. The hope for celestial happiness deadened the physical +senses and softened pain. Were they torn to pieces, or burnt, they +minded it not. They never yielded, and they called for the sword, which +alone could kill them. Eulalia, when at the stake, breathes the flame +that she may die the more quickly. Her prayer is granted, and a white +dove flies from her mouth and bears her soul to heaven. + +Angelique marvelled greatly at all these accounts. So many abominations +and such triumphant joy delighted her and carried her out of herself. + +But other points in the Legend, of quite a different nature, also +interested her; the animals, for instance, of which there were enough +to fill an Ark of Noah. She liked the ravens and the eagles who fed the +hermits. + +Then what lovely stories there were about the lions. The serviceable one +who found a resting-place in a field for Mary the Egyptian; the flaming +lion who protected virgins or maidens in danger; and then the lion of +Saint Jerome, to whose care an ass had been confided, and, when the +animal was stolen, went in search of him and brought him back. There was +also the penitent wolf, who had restored a little pig he had intended +eating. Then there was Bernard, who excommunicates the flies, and they +drop dead. Remi and Blaise feed birds at their table, bless them, +and make them strong. Francis, "filled with a dove-like simplicity," +preaches to them, and exhorts them to love God. A bird was on a branch +of a fig-tree, and Francis, holding out his hand, beckoned to it, and +soon it obeyed, and lighted on his hand. And he said to it, "Sing my +sister, and praise the Lord." And immediately the bird began to sing, +and did not go away until it was told to do so. + +All this was a continual source of recreation to Angelique, and gave her +the idea of calling to the swallows, and hoping they might come to her. + +The good giant Christopher, who carried the Infant Christ on his +shoulders, delighted her so much as to bring tears to her eyes. + +She was very merry over the misadventures of a certain Governor with +the three chambermaids of Anastasia, whom he hoped to have found in +the kitchen, where he kissed the stove and the kettles, thinking he +was embracing them. "He went out therefrom very black and ugly, and his +clothes quite smutched. And when his servants, who were waiting, saw him +in such a state, they thought he was the Devil. Then they beat him with +birch-rods, and, running away, left him alone." + +But that which convulsed her most with laughter, was the account of the +blows given to the Evil One himself, especially when Juliana, +having been tempted by him in her prison cell, administered such an +extraordinary chastisement with her chain. "Then the Provost commanded +that Juliana should be brought before him; and when she came into his +presence, she was drawing the Devil after her, and he cried out, saying, +'My good lady Juliana, do not hurt me any more!' She led him in this way +around the public square, and afterwards threw him into a deep ditch." + +Often Angelique would repeat to the Huberts, as they were all at work +together, legends far more interesting than any fairy-tale. She had +read them over so often that she knew them by heart, and she told in +a charming way the story of the Seven Sleepers, who, to escape +persecution, walled themselves up in a cavern, and whose awakening +greatly astonished the Emperor Theodosius. Then the Legend of Saint +Clement with its endless adventures, so unexpected and touching, where +the whole family, father, mother, and three sons, separated by terrible +misfortunes, are finally re-united in the midst of the most beautiful +miracles. + +Her tears would flow at these recitals. She dreamed of them at night, +she lived, as it were, only in this tragic and triumphant world of +prodigy, in a supernatural country where all virtues are recompensed by +all imaginable joys. + +When Angelique partook of her first Communion, it seemed as if she were +walking, like the saints, a little above the earth. She was a young +Christian of the primitive Church; she gave herself into the hands of +God, having learned from her book that she could not be saved without +grace. + +The Huberts were simple in their profession of faith. They went every +Sunday to Mass, and to Communion on all great fete-days, and this +was done with the tranquil humility of true belief, aided a little by +tradition, as the chasubliers had from father to son always observed the +Church ceremonies, particularly those at Easter. + +Hubert himself had a tendency to imaginative fancies. He would at times +stop his work and let fall his frame to listen to the child as she +read or repeated the legends, and, carried away for the moment by her +enthusiasm, it seemed as if his hair were blown about by the light +breath of some invisible power. He was so in sympathy with Angelique, +and associated her to such a degree with the youthful saints of the +past, that he wept when he saw her in her white dress and veil. This +day at church was like a dream, and they returned home quite exhausted. +Hubertine was obliged to scold them both, for, with her excellent +common-sense, she disliked exaggeration even in good things. + +From that time she had to restrain the zeal of Angelique, especially in +her tendency to what she thought was charity, and to which she wished +to devote herself. Saint Francis had wedded poverty; Julien the Chaplain +had called the poor his superiors; Gervasius and Protais had washed the +feet of the most indigent, and Martin had divided his cloak with them. +So she, following the example of Lucy, wished to sell everything +that she might give. At first she disposed of all her little private +possessions, then she began to pillage the house. But at last she +gave without judgment and foolishly. One evening, two days after her +Confirmation, being reprimanded for having thrown from the window +several articles of underwear to a drunken woman, she had a terrible +attack of anger like those when she was young; then, overcome by shame, +she was really ill and forced to keep her bed for a couple of days. + + + +CHAPTER III + +In the meanwhile, weeks and months went by. Two years had passed. +Angelique was now fourteen years of age and quite womanly. When she read +the "Golden Legend," she would have a humming in her ears, the blood +circulated quickly through the blue veins near her temples, and she felt +a deep tenderness towards all these virgin saints. + +Maidenhood is the sister of the angels, the union of all good, +the overthrow of evil, the domain of faith. It gives grace, it is +perfection, which has only need to show itself to conquer. The action of +the Holy Spirit rendered Lucy so heavy that a thousand men and five pair +of oxen could not drag her away from her home. An officer who tried +to kiss Anastasia was struck blind. Under torture, the purity of the +virgins is always powerful; from their exquisite white limbs, torn by +instruments, milk flows instead of blood. Ten different times the story +is told of the young convert who, to escape from her family, who wish +her to marry against her will, assumes the garb of a monk, is accused of +some misdeed, suffers punishment without indicating herself, and at last +triumphs by announcing her name. Eugenia is in this way brought before +a judge, whom she recognises as her father and reveals herself to +him. Externally the combat of chastity recommences; always the thorns +reappear. Thus the wisest saints shrink from being tempted. As the world +is filled with snares, hermits flee to the desert, where they scourge +themselves, throw themselves on the snow, or in beds of prickly herbs. +A solitary monk covers his fingers with his mantle, that he may aid his +mother in crossing a creek. A martyr bound to a stake, being tempted by +a young girl, bites off his tongue with his teeth and spits it at her. +All glorify the state of single blessedness. Alexis, very wealthy and +in a high position, marries, but leaves his wife at the church-door. +One weds only to die. Justina, in love with Cyprianus, converts him, and +they walk together to their punishment. Cecilia, beloved by an angel, +reveals the secret to Valerian on their wedding-day, and he, that he may +see the spirit, consents to be baptised. He found in his room Cecilia +talking with the angel, who held in his hand two wreaths of roses, and, +giving one to Cecilia, and one to Valerian, he said, "Keep these crowns, +like your hearts, pure and unspotted." In many cases it was proved +that death was stronger than love, and couples were united only as a +challenge to existence. It was said that even the Virgin Mary at times +prevented betrothals from ending in a marriage. A nobleman, a relative +of the King of Hungary, renounced his claims to a young girl of +marvellous beauty on this account. "Suddenly our Blessed Lady appeared, +and said to him: 'If I am indeed so beautiful as you have called me, why +do you leave me for another?' And he became a most devout man for the +rest of his life." + +Among all this saintly company, Angelique had her preferences, and there +were those whose experiences touched her to the heart, and helped her +to correct her failings. Thus the learned Catherine, of high birth, +enchanted her by her great scientific knowledge, when, only eighteen +years of age, she was called by the Emperor Maximus to discuss certain +questions with fifty rhetoricians and grammarians. She astonished and +convinced them. "They were amazed and knew not what to say, but they +remained quiet. And the Emperor blamed them for their weakness in +allowing themselves to be so easily conquered by a young girl." The +fifty professors then declared that they were converted. "And as soon +as the tyrant heard that, he had so terrible a fit of anger, that he +commanded they should all be burned to death in the public square." +In her eyes Catherine was the invincible learned woman, as proud and +dazzling in intellect as in beauty, just as she would have liked to +be, that she might convert men, and be fed in prison by a dove, before +having her head cut off. But Saint Elizabeth, the daughter of the King +of Hungary, was for her a constant teacher and guide. Whenever she was +inclined to yield to her violent temper, she thought of this model of +gentleness and simplicity, who was at five years of age very devout, +refusing to join her playmates in their sports, and sleeping on the +ground, that, in abasing herself, she might all the better render homage +to God. Later, she was the faithful, obedient wife of the Landgrave of +Thuringia, always showing to her husband a smiling face, although she +passed her nights in tears. When she became a widow she was driven from +her estates, but was happy to lead the life of poverty. Her dress was so +thin from use, that she wore a grey mantle, lengthened out by cloth of +a different shade. The sleeves of her jacket had been torn, and were +mended with a material of another colour. The king, her father, wishing +her to come to him, sent for her by a Count. And when the Count saw her +clothed in such a way and spinning, overcome with surprise and grief, he +exclaimed: "Never before did one see the daughter of a Royal House in +so miserable a garb, and never was one known to spin wool until now." +So Christian and sincere was her humility, that she ate black bread with +the poorest peasants, nursed them when ill, dressed their sores without +repugnance, put on coarse garments like theirs, and followed them in the +church processions with bare feet. She was once washing the porringers +and the utensils of the kitchen, when the maids, seeing her so out of +place, urged her to desist, but she replied, "Could I find another task +more menial even than this, I would do it." Influenced by her example, +Angelique, who was formerly angry when obliged to do any cleaning in the +kitchen, now tried to invent some extremely disagreeable task when she +felt nervous and in need of control. + +But more than Catherine, more than Elizabeth, far nearer and dearer +to her than all the other saints, was Agnes, the child-martyr; and her +heart leaped with joy on refinding in the "Golden Legend" this virgin, +clothed with her own hair, who had protected her under the Cathedral +portal. What ardour of pure love, as she repelled the son of the +Governor when he accosted her on her way from school! "Go--leave me, +minister of death, commencement of sin, and child of treason!" How +exquisitely she described her beloved! "I love the One whose Mother was +a Virgin, and whose father was faithful to her, at whose beauty the sun +and moon marvelled, and at whose touch the dead were made alive." And +when Aspasien commanded that "her throat should be cut by the sword," +she ascended into Paradise to be united to her "betrothed, whiter and +purer than silver-gilt." + +Always, when weary or disturbed, Angelique called upon and implored her, +and it seemed as if peace came to her at once. She saw her constantly +near her, and often she regretted having done or thought of things which +would have displeased her. + +One evening as she was kissing her hands, a habit which she still at +times indulged in, she suddenly blushed and turned away, although she +was quite alone, for it seemed as if the little saint must have seen +her. Agnes was her guardian angel. + +Thus, at fifteen Angelique was an adorable child. Certainly, neither the +quiet, laborious life, nor the soothing shadows of the Cathedral, nor +the legends of the beautiful saints, had made her an angel, a creature +of absolute perfection. She was often angry, and certain weaknesses of +character showed themselves, which had never been sufficiently guarded +against; but she was always ashamed and penitent if she had done wrong, +for she wished so much to be perfect. And she was so human, so full of +life, so ignorant, and withal so pure in reality. + +One day, on returning from a long excursion which the Huberts allowed +her to take twice a year, on Pentecost Monday and on Assumption Day, +she took home with her a sweetbriar bush, and then amused herself by +replanting it in the narrow garden. She trimmed it and watered it well: +it grew and sent out long branches, filled with odour. With her usual +intensity, she watched it daily, but was unwilling to have it grafted, +as she wished to see if, by some miracle, it could not be made to bear +roses. She danced around it, she repeated constantly: "This bush is like +me; it is like me!" And if one joked her upon her great wild-rose bush, +she joined them in their laughter, although a little pale, and with +tears almost ready to fall. Her violet-coloured eyes were softer than +ever, her half-opened lips revealed little white teeth, and her oval +face had a golden aureole from her light wavy hair. She had grown +tall without being too slight; her neck and shoulders were exquisitely +graceful; her chest was full, her waist flexible; and gay, healthy, of +a rare beauty, she had an infinite charm, arising from the innocence and +purity of her soul. + +Every day the affection of the Huberts for her increased. They often +talked together of their mutual wish to adopt her. Yet they took no +active measures in that way, lest they might have cause to regret it. +One morning, when the husband announced his final decision, his wife +suddenly began to weep bitterly. To adopt a child? Was not that the same +as giving up all hope of having one of their own? Yet it was useless for +them to expect one now, after so many years of waiting, and she gave her +consent, in reality delighted that she could call her her daughter. When +Angelique was spoken to on the subject, she threw her arms around their +necks, kissed them both, and was almost choked with tears of joy. + +So it was agreed upon that she was always to remain with them in this +house, which now seemed to be filled with her presence, rejuvenated by +her youth, and penetrated by her laughter. But an unexpected obstacle +was met with at the first step. The Justice of the Peace, Monsieur +Grandsire, on being consulted, explained to them the radical +impossibility of adoption, since by law the adopted must be "of age." +Then, seeing their disappointment, he suggested the expedient of a legal +guardianship: any individual over fifty years of age can attach himself +to a minor of fifteen years or less by a legal claim, on becoming their +official protector. The ages were all right, so they were delighted, and +accepted. It was even arranged that they should afterwards confer the +title of adoption upon their ward by way of their united last will and +testament, as such a thing would be permitted by the Code. Monsieur +Grandsire, furnished with the demand of the husband and the +authorisation of the wife, then put himself in communication with the +Director of Public Aid, the general guardian for all abandoned children, +whose consent it was necessary to have. Great inquiries were made, +and at last the necessary papers were placed in Paris, with a certain +Justice of the Peace chosen for the purpose. And all was ready except +the official report which constitutes the legality of guardianship, when +the Huberts suddenly were taken with certain scruples. + +Before receiving Angelique into their family, ought not they to +ascertain if she had any relatives on her side? Was her mother still +alive? Had they the right to dispose of the daughter without being +absolutely sure that she had willingly been given up and deserted? Then, +in reality, the unknown origin of the child, which had troubled them +long ago, came back to them now and made them hesitate. They were so +tormented by this anxiety that they could not sleep. + +Without any more talk, Hubert unexpectedly announced that he was +going to Paris. Such a journey seemed like a catastrophe in his calm +existence. He explained the necessity of it to Angelique, by speaking of +the guardianship. He hoped to arrange everything in twenty-four hours. +But once in the city, days passed; obstacles arose on every side. He +spent a week there, sent from one to another, really doing nothing, and +quite discouraged. In the first place, he was received very coldly at +the Office of Public Assistance. The rule of the Administration is that +children shall not be told of their parents until they are of age. So +for two mornings in succession he was sent away from the office. He +persisted, however, explained the matter to three secretaries, made +himself hoarse in talking to an under-officer, who wished to counsel him +that he had not official papers. The Administration were quite ignorant. +A nurse had left the child there, "Angelique Marie," without naming the +mother. In despair he was about to return to Beaumont, when a new idea +impelled him to return for the fourth time to the office, to see the +book in which the arrival of the infant had been noted down, and in that +way to have the address of the nurse. That proved quite an undertaking. +But at last he succeeded, and found it was a Madame Foucart, and that in +1850 she lived on the Rue des Deux-Ecus. + +Then he recommenced his hunting up and down. The end of the Rue des +Deux-Ecus had been demolished, and no shopkeeper in the neighbourhood +recollected ever having heard of Madame Foucart. He consulted the +directory, but there was no such name. Looking at every sign as he +walked along, he called on one after another, and at last, in this way, +he had the good fortune to find an old woman, who exclaimed, in answer +to his questions, "What! Do I know Madame Foucart? A most honourable +person, but one who has had many misfortunes. She lives on the Rue de +Censier, quite at the other end of Paris." He hastened there at once. + +Warned by experience, he determined now to be diplomatic. But Madame +Foucart, an enormous woman, would not allow him to ask questions in +the good order he had arranged them before going there. As soon as he +mentioned the two names of the child, she seemed to be eager to talk, +and she related its whole history in a most spiteful way. "Ah! the +child was alive! Very well; she might flatter herself that she had for a +mother a most famous hussy. Yes, Madame Sidonie, as she was called since +she became a widow, was a woman of a good family, having, it is said, a +brother who was a minister, but that did not prevent her from being +very bad." And she explained that she had made her acquaintance when she +kept, on the Rue Saint-Honore, a little shop where they dealt in +fruit and oil from Provence, she and her husband, when they came from +Plassans, hoping to make their fortune in the city. The husband died and +was buried, and soon after Madame Sidonie had a little daughter, which +she sent at once to the hospital, and never after even inquired for +her, as she was "a heartless woman, cold as a protest and brutal as a +sheriff's aid." A fault can be pardoned, but not ingratitude! Was not it +true that, obliged to leave her shop as she was so heavily in debt, she +had been received and cared for by Madame Foucart? And when in her turn +she herself had fallen into difficulties, she had never been able to +obtain from Madame Sidonie, even the month's board she owed her, nor the +fifteen francs she had once lent her. To-day the "hateful thing" lived +on the Rue de Faubourg-Poissonniere, where she had a little apartment of +three rooms. She pretended to be a cleaner and mender of lace, but she +sold a good many other things. Ah! yes! such a mother as that it was +best to know nothing about! + +An hour later, Hubert was walking round the house where Madame Sidonie +lived. He saw through the window a woman, thin, pale, coarse-looking, +wearing an old black gown, stained and greased. Never could the heart of +such a person be touched by the recollection of a daughter whom she had +only seen on the day of its birth. He concluded it would be best not to +repeat, even to his wife, many things that he had just learned. Still he +hesitated. Once more he passed by the place, and looked again. Ought +not he to go in, to introduce himself, and to ask the consent of the +unnatural parent? As an honest man, it was for him to judge if he had +the right of cutting the tie there and for ever. Brusquely he turned his +back, hurried away, and returned that evening to Beaumont. + +Hubertine had just learned that the _proces-verbal_ at Monsieur +Grandsire's, for the guardianship of the child, had been signed. And +when Angelique threw herself into Hubert's arms, he saw clearly by +the look of supplication in her eyes, that she had understood the true +reason of his journey. + +Then he said quietly: "My child, your mother is not living." Angelique +wept, as she kissed him most affectionately. After this the subject was +not referred to. She was their daughter. + +At Whitsuntide, this year, the Huberts had taken Angelique with them +to lunch at the ruins of the Chateau d'Hautecoeur, which overlooks the +Ligneul, two leagues below Beaumont; and, after the day spent in running +and laughing in the open air, the young girl still slept when, the next +morning, the old house-clock struck eight. + +Hubertine was obliged to go up and rap at her door. + +"Ah, well! Little lazy child! We have already had our breakfast, and it +is late." + +Angelique dressed herself quickly and went down to the kitchen, +where she took her rolls and coffee alone. Then, when she entered the +workroom, where Hubert and his wife had just seated themselves, after +having arranged their frames for embroidery, she said: + +"Oh! how soundly I did sleep! I had quite forgotten that we had promised +to finish this chasuble for next Sunday." + +This workroom, the windows of which opened upon the garden, was a large +apartment, preserved almost entirely in its original state. The two +principal beams of the ceiling, and the three visible cross-beams of +support, had not even been whitewashed, and they were blackened by smoke +and worm-eaten, while, through the openings of the broken plaster, here +and there, the laths of the inner joists could be seen. On one of the +stone corbels, which supported the beams, was the date 1463, without +doubt the date of the construction of the building. The chimney-piece, +also in stone, broken and disjointed, had traces of its original +elegance, with its slender uprights, its brackets, its frieze with a +cornice, and its basket-shaped funnel terminating in a crown. On the +frieze could be seen even now, as if softened by age, an ingenious +attempt at sculpture, in the way of a likeness of Saint Clair, the +patron of embroiderers. But this chimney was no longer used, and +the fireplace had been turned into an open closet by putting shelves +therein, on which were piles of designs and patterns. The room was now +heated by a great bell-shaped cast-iron stove, the pipe of which, after +going the whole length of the ceiling, entered an opening made expressly +for it in the wall. The doors, already shaky, were of the time of Louis +XIV. The original tiles of the floor were nearly all gone, and had been +replaced, one by one, by those of a later style. It was nearly a hundred +years since the yellow walls had been coloured, and at the top of +the room they were almost of a greyish white, and, lower down, were +scratched and spotted with saltpetre. Each year there was talk of +repainting them, but nothing had yet been done, from a dislike of making +any change. + +Hubertine, busy at her work, raised her head as Angelique spoke and +said: + +"You know that if our work is done on Sunday, I have promised to give +you a basket of pansies for your garden." + +The young girl exclaimed gaily: "Oh, yes! that is true. Ah, well! I will +do my best then! But where is my thimble? It seems as if all working +implements take to themselves wings and fly away, if not in constant +use." + +She flipped the old _doigtier_ of ivory on the second joint of her +little finger, and took her place on the other side of the frame, +opposite to the window. + +Since the middle of the last century there had not been the slightest +modification in the fittings and arrangements of the workroom. Fashions +changed, the art of the embroiderer was transformed, but there was still +seen fastened to the wall the chantlate, the great piece of wood +where was placed one end of the frame or work, while the other end was +supported by a moving trestle. In the corners were many ancient tools--a +little machine called a "diligent," with its wheels and its long +pins, to wind the gold thread on the reels without touching it; a hand +spinning-wheel; a species of pulley to twist the threads which were +attached to the wall; rollers of various sizes covered with silks and +threads used in the crochet embroidery. Upon a shelf was spread out an +old collection of punches for the spangles, and there was also to +be seen a valuable relic, in the shape of the classic chandelier in +hammered brass which belonged to some ancient master-workman. On the +rings of a rack made of a nailed leather strap were hung awls, mallets, +hammers, irons to cut the vellum, and roughing chisels of bogwood, which +were used to smooth the threads as fast as they were employed. And yet +again, at the foot of the heavy oaken table on which the cutting-out +was done, was a great winder, whose two movable reels of wicker held the +skeins. Long chains of spools of bright-coloured silks strung on cords +were hung near that case of drawers. On the floor was a large basket +filled with empty bobbins. A pair of great shears rested on the straw +seat of one of the chairs, and a ball of cord had just fallen on the +floor, half unwound. + +"Oh! what lovely weather! What perfect weather!" continued Angelique. +"It is a pleasure simply to live and to breathe." + +And before stooping to apply herself to her work, she delayed another +moment before the open window, through which entered all the beauty of a +radiant May morning. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +The sun shone brightly on the roof of the Cathedral, a fresh odour of +lilacs came up from the bushes in the garden of the Bishop. Angelique +smiled, as she stood there, dazzled, and as if bathed in the springtide. +Then, starting as if suddenly awakened from sleep, she said: + +"Father, I have no more gold thread for my work." + +Hubert, who had just finished pricking the tracing of the pattern of a +cope, went to get a skein from the case of drawers, cut it, tapered +off the two ends by scratching the gold which covered the silk, and he +brought it to her rolled up in parchment. + +"Is that all you need?" + +"Yes, thanks." + +With a quick glance she had assured herself that nothing more was +wanting; the needles were supplied with the different golds, the red, +the green, and the blue; there were spools of every shade of silk; the +spangles were ready; and the twisted wires for the gold lace were in the +crown of a hat which served as a box, with the long fine needles, the +steel pincers, the thimbles, the scissors, and the ball of wax. All +these were on the frame even, or on the material stretched therein, +which was protected by a thick brown paper. + +She had threaded a needle with the gold thread. But at the first stitch +it broke, and she was obliged to thread it again, breaking off tiny +bits of the gold, which she threw immediately into the pasteboard +waste-basket which was near her. + +"Now at last I am ready," she said, as she finished her first stitch. + +Perfect silence followed. Hubert was preparing to stretch some material +on another frame. He had placed the two heavy ends on the chantlate and +the trestle directly opposite in such a way as to take lengthwise the +red silk of the cope, the breadths of which Hubertine had just stitched +together, and fitting the laths into the mortice of the beams, he +fastened them with four little nails. Then, after smoothing the material +many times from right to left, he finished stretching it and tacked on +the nails. To assure himself that it was thoroughly tight and firm, he +tapped on the cloth with his fingers and it sounded like a drum. + +Angelique had become a most skilful worker, and the Huberts were +astonished at her cleverness and taste. In addition to what they had +taught her, she carried into all she did her personal enthusiasm, which +gave life to flowers and faith to symbols. Under her hands, silk and +gold seemed animated; the smaller ornaments were full of mystic meaning; +she gave herself up to it entirely, with her imagination constantly +active and her firm belief in the infinitude of the invisible world. + +The Diocese of Beaumont had been so charmed with certain pieces of her +embroidery, that a clergyman who was an archaeologist, and another who +was an admirer of pictures, had come to see her, and were in raptures +before her Virgins, which they compared to the simple gracious figures +of the earliest masters. There was the same sincerity, the same +sentiment of the beyond, as if encircled in the minutest perfection of +detail. She had the real gift of design, a miraculous one indeed, which, +without a teacher, with nothing but her evening studies by lamplight, +enabled her often to correct her models, to deviate entirely from them, +and to follow her own fancies, creating beautiful things with the point +of her needle. So the Huberts, who had always insisted that a thorough +knowledge of the science of drawing was necessary to make a good +embroiderer, were obliged to yield before her, notwithstanding their +long experience. And, little by little, they modestly withdrew into the +background, becoming simply her aids, surrendering to her all the most +elaborate work, the under part of which they prepared for her. + +From one end of the year to the other, what brilliant and sacred marvels +passed through her hands! She was always occupied with silks, satins, +velvets, or cloths of gold or silver. She embroidered chasubles, stoles, +maniples, copes, dalmatics, mitres, banners, and veils for the chalice +and the pyx. But, above all, their orders for chasubles never failed, +and they worked constantly at those vestments, with their five colours: +the white, for Confessors and Virgins; the red, for Apostles and +Martyrs; the black, for the days of fasting and for the dead; the +violet, for the Innocents; and the green for fete-days. Gold was also +often used in place of white or of green. The same symbols were always +in the centre of the Cross: the monograms of Jesus and of the Virgin +Mary, the triangle surrounded with rays, the lamb, the pelican, the +dove, a chalice, a monstrance, and a bleeding heart pierced with thorns; +while higher up and on the arms were designs, or flowers, all the +ornamentation being in the ancient style, and all the flora in large +blossoms, like anemones, tulips, peonies, pomegranates, or hortensias. +No season passed in which she did not remake the grapes and thorns +symbolic, putting silver on black, and gold on red. For the most costly +vestments, she varied the pictures of the heads of saints, having, as a +central design, the Annunciation, the Last Supper, or the Crucifixion. +Sometimes the orfreys were worked on the original material itself; at +others, she applied bands of silk or satin on brocades of gold cloth, or +of velvet. And all this efflorescence of sacred splendour was created, +little by little, by her deft fingers. At this moment the vestment on +which Angelique was at work was a chasuble of white satin, the cross +of which was made by a sheaf of golden lilies intertwined with bright +roses, in various shades of silk. In the centre, in a wreath of little +roses of dead gold, was the monogram of the Blessed Virgin, in red and +green gold, with a great variety of ornaments. + +For an hour, during which she skilfully finished the little roses, the +silence had not been broken even by a single word. But her thread broke +again, and she re-threaded her needle by feeling carefully under the +frame, as only an adroit person can do. Then, as she raised her head, +she again inhaled with satisfaction the pure, fresh air that came in +from the garden. + +"Ah!" she said softly, "how beautiful it was yesterday! The sunshine is +always perfect." + +Hubertine shook her head as she stopped to wax her thread. + +"As for me, I am so wearied, it seems as if I had no arms, and it tires +me to work. But that is not strange, for I so seldom go out, and am no +longer young and strong, as you are at sixteen." + +Angelique had reseated herself and resumed her work. She prepared the +lilies by sewing bits of vellum on certain places that had been marked, +so as to give them relief, but the flowers themselves were not to be +made until later, for fear the gold be tarnished were the hands moved +much over it. + +Hubert, who, having finished arranging the material in its frame, +was about drawing with pumice the pattern of the cope, joined in the +conversation and said: "These first warm days of spring are sure to give +me a terrible headache." + +Angelique's eyes seemed to be vaguely lost in the rays which now fell +upon one of the flying buttresses of the church, as she dreamily added: +"Oh no, father, I do not think so. One day in the lively air, like +yesterday, does me a world of good." + +Having finished the little golden leaves, she began one of the large +roses, near the lilies. Already she had threaded several needles with +the silks required, and she embroidered in stitches varying in length, +according to the natural position and movement of the petals, and +notwithstanding the extreme delicacy and absorbing nature of this work, +the recollections of the previous day, which she lived over again in +thought and in silence, now came to her lips, and crowded so closely +upon each other that she no longer tried to keep them back. So she +talked of their setting out upon their expedition, of the beautiful +fields they crossed, of their lunch over there in the ruins of +Hautecoeur, upon the flagstones of a little room whose tumble-down walls +towered far above the Ligneul, which rolled gently among the willows +fifty yards below them. + +She was enthusiastic over these crumbling ruins, and the scattered +blocks of stone among the brambles, which showed how enormous the +colossal structure must have been as, when first built, it commanded +the two valleys. The donjon remained, nearly two hundred feet in height, +discoloured, cracked, but nevertheless firm, upon its foundation pillars +fifteen feet thick. Two of its towers had also resisted the attacks +of Time--that of Charlemagne and that of David--united by a heavy wall +almost intact. In the interior, the chapel, the court-room, and certain +chambers were still easily recognised; and all this appeared to have +been built by giants, for the steps of the stairways, the sills of the +windows, and the branches on the terraces, were all on a scale far out +of proportion for the generation of to-day. It was, in fact, quite a +little fortified city. Five hundred men could have sustained there a +siege of thirty months without suffering from want of ammunition or of +provisions. For two centuries the bricks of the lowest story had been +disjointed by the wild roses; lilacs and laburnums covered with blossoms +the rubbish of the fallen ceilings; a plane-tree had even grown up in +the fireplace of the guardroom. But when, at sunset, the outline of the +donjon cast its long shadow over three leagues of cultivated ground, +and the colossal Chateau seemed to be rebuilt in the evening mists, one +still felt the great strength, and the old sovereignty, which had made +of it so impregnable a fortress that even the kings of France trembled +before it. + +"And I am sure," continued Angelique, "that it is inhabited by the souls +of the dead, who return at night. All kinds of noises are heard there; +in every direction are monsters who look at you, and when I turned round +as we were coming away, I saw great white figures fluttering above the +wall. But, mother, you know all the history of the castle, do you not?" + +Hubertine replied, as she smiled in an amused way: "Oh! as for ghosts, I +have never seen any of them myself." + +But in reality, she remembered perfectly the history, which she had read +long ago, and to satisfy the eager questionings of the young girl, she +was obliged to relate it over again. + +The land belonged to the Bishopric of Rheims, since the days of Saint +Remi, who had received it from Clovis. + +An archbishop, Severin, in the early years of the tenth century, had +erected at Hautecoeur a fortress to defend the country against the +Normans, who were coming up the river Oise, into which the Ligneul +flows. + +In the following century a successor of Severin gave it in fief to +Norbert, a younger son of the house of Normandy, in consideration of an +annual quit-rent of sixty sous, and on the condition that the city of +Beaumont and its church should remain free and unincumbered. It was in +this way that Norbert I became the head of the Marquesses of Hautecoeur, +whose famous line from that date became so well known in history. Herve +IV, excommunicated twice for his robbery of ecclesiastical property, +became a noted highwayman, who killed, on a certain occasion, with his +own hands, thirty citizens, and his tower was razed to the ground by +Louis le Gros, against whom he had dared to declare war. Raoul I, who +went to the Crusades with Philip Augustus, perished before Saint Jean +d'Acre, having been pierced through the heart by a lance. But the most +illustrious of the race was John V, the Great, who, in 1225, rebuilt the +fortress, finishing in less than five years this formidable Chateau of +Hautecoeur, under whose shelter he, for a moment, dreamed of aspiring +to the throne of France, and after having escaped from being killed in +twenty battles, he at last died quietly in his bed, brother-in-law to +the King of Scotland. Then came Felician III, who made a pilgrimage to +Jerusalem barefooted; Herve VII, who asserted his claims to the throne +of Scotland; and still many others, noble and powerful in their day +and generation, down to Jean IX, who, under Mazarin, had the grief of +assisting at the dismantling of the castle. After a desperate siege, the +vaults of the towers and of the donjon were blown up with powder, and +the different constructions were set on fire; where Charles VI had been +sent to rest, and to turn his attention from his vagaries, and where, +nearly two hundred years later, Henri IV had passed a week as Gabrielle +D'Estress. Thenceforth, all these royal souvenirs had passed into +oblivion. + +Angelique, without stopping the movement of her needle, listened +eagerly, as if the vision of these past grandeurs rose up from her +frame, in proportion as the rose grew there in its delicate life +of colour. Her ignorance of general history enlarged facts, and she +received them as if they were the basis of a marvellous legend. She +trembled with delight, and, transported by her faith, it seemed as if +the reconstructed Chateau mounted to the very gates of heaven, and the +Hautecoeurs were cousins to the Virgin Mary. + +When there was a pause in the recital she asked, "Is not our new Bishop +Monseigneur d'Hautecoeur, a descendant of this noted family?" + +Hubertine replied that Monseigneur must belong to the younger branch of +the family, as the elder branch had been extinct for a very long time. +It was, indeed, a most singular return, as for centuries the Marquesses +of Hautecoeur and the clergy of Beaumont had been hostile to each +other. Towards 1150 an abbot undertook to build a church, with no other +resources than those of his Order; so his funds soon gave out, when the +edifice was no higher than the arches of the side chapels, and they were +obliged to cover the nave with a wooden roof. Eighty years passed, and +Jean V came to rebuild the Chateau, when he gave three hundred thousand +pounds, which, added to other sums, enabled the work on the church to be +continued. The nave was finished, but the two towers and the great front +were terminated much later, towards 1430, in the full fifteenth century. +To recompense Jean V for his liberality, the clergy accorded to him, +for himself and his descendants, the right of burial in a chapel of the +apse, consecrated to St. George, and which, since that time, had been +called the Chapel Hautecoeur. But these good terms were not of long +duration. The freedom of Beaumont was put in constant peril by the +Chateau, and there were continual hostilities on the questions of +tribute and of precedence. One especially, the right of paying toll, +which the nobles demanded for the navigation of the Ligneul, perpetuated +the quarrels. Then it was that the great prosperity of the lower town +began, with its manufacturing of fine linen and lace, and from this +epoch the fortune of Beaumont increased daily, while that of Hautecoeur +diminished, until the time when the castle was dismantled and the church +triumphed. Louis XIV made of it a cathedral, a bishop's palace was +built in the old enclosure of the monks, and, by a singular chain of +circumstances, to-day a member of the family of Hautecoeur had returned +as a bishop to command the clergy, who, always powerful, had conquered +his ancestors, after a contest of four hundred years. + +"But," said Angelique, "Monseigneur has been married, and has not he a +son at least twenty years of age?" + +Hubertine had taken up the shears to remodel one of the pieces of +vellum. + +"Yes," she replied, "the Abbot Cornille told me the whole story, and it +is a very sad history. When but twenty years of age, Monseigneur was a +captain under Charles X. In 1830, when only four-and-twenty, he resigned +his position in the army, and it is said that from that time until he +was forty years of age he led an adventurous life, travelling everywhere +and having many strange experiences. At last, one evening, he met, +at the house of a friend in the country, the daughter of the Count de +Valencay, Mademoiselle Pauline, very wealthy, marvellously beautiful, +and scarcely nineteen years of age, twenty-two years younger than +himself. He fell violently in love with her, and, as she returned his +affection, there was no reason why the marriage should not take place +at once. He then bought the ruins of Hautecoeur for a mere song--ten +thousand francs, I believe--with the intention of repairing the Chateau +and installing his wife therein when all would be in order and in +readiness to receive her. In the meanwhile they went to live on one of +his family estates in Anjou, scarcely seeing any of their friends, and +finding in their united happiness the days all too short. But, alas! at +the end of a year Pauline had a son and died." + +Hubert, who was still occupied with marking out his pattern, raised +his head, showing a very pale face as he said in a low voice: "Oh! the +unhappy man!" + +"It was said that he himself almost died from his great grief," +continued Hubertine. "At all events, a fortnight later he entered into +Holy Orders, and soon became a priest. That was twenty years ago, and +now he is a bishop. But I have also been told that during all this time +he has refused to see his son, the child whose birth cost the life of +its mother. He had placed him with an uncle of his wife's, an old abbot, +not wishing even to hear of him, and trying to forget his existence. One +day a picture of the boy was sent him, but in looking at it he found +so strong a resemblance to his beloved dead that he fell on the floor +unconscious and stiff, as if he had received a blow from a hammer. . . . +Now age and prayer have helped to soften his deep grief, for yesterday +the good Father Cornille told me that Monseigneur had just decided to +send for his son to come to him." + +Angelique, having finished her rose, so fresh and natural that perfume +seemed to be exhaled from it, looked again through the window into the +sunny garden, and, as if in a reverie, she said in a low voice: "The son +of Monseigneur!" + +Hubertine continued her story. + +"It seems that the young man is handsome as a god, and his father wished +him to be educated for the priesthood. But the old abbot would not +consent to that, saying that the youth had not the slightest inclination +in that direction. And then, to crown all, his wealth, it is said, is +enormous. Two million pounds sterling! Yes, indeed! His mother left +him a tenth of that sum, which was invested in land in Paris, where the +increase in the price of real estate has been so great, that to-day it +represents fifty millions of francs. In short, rich as a king!" + +"Rich as a king, beautiful as a god!" repeated Angelique unconsciously, +in her dreamy voice. + +And with one hand she mechanically took from the frame a bobbin wound +with gold thread, in order to make the open-work centre of one of the +large lilies. After having loosened the end from the point of the reel, +she fastened it with a double stitch of silk to the edge of the vellum +which was to give a thickness to the embroidery. Then, continuing her +work, she said again, without finishing her thought, which seemed lost +in the vagueness of its desire, "Oh! as for me, what I would like, that +which I would like above all else----" + +The silence fell again, deep and profound, broken only by the dull sound +of chanting which came from the church. Hubert arranged his design by +repassing with a little brush all the perforated lines of the drawing, +and thus the ornamentation of the cope appeared in white on the red +silk. It was he who first resumed speaking. + +"Ah! those ancient days were magnificent! Noblemen then wore costumes +weighted with embroidery. At Lyons, material was sometimes sold for as +much as six hundred francs an ell. One ought to read the by-laws and +regulations of the Guild of Master Workmen, where it is laid down that +'The embroiderers of the King have always the right to summon, by armed +force if necessary, the workmen of other masters.' . . . And then we +had coats of arms, too! Azure, a fesso engrailed or, between three +fleurs-de-lys of the same, two of them being near the top and the third +in the point. Ah! it was indeed beautiful in the days of long ago!" + +He stopped a moment, tapping the frame with his fingers to shake off the +dust. Then he continued: + +"At Beaumont they still have a legend about the Hautecoeurs, which my +mother often related to me when I was a child. . . . A frightful plague +ravaged the town, and half of the inhabitants had already fallen victims +to it, when Jean V, he who had rebuilt the fortress, perceived that God +had given him the power to contend against the scourge. Then he went on +foot to the houses of the sick, fell on his knees, kissed them, and as +soon as his lips had touched them, while he said, 'If God is willing, +I wish it,' the sufferers were healed. And lo! that is why these words +have remained the device of the Hautecoeurs, who all have since that +day been able to cure the plague. . . . Ah! what a proud race of men! +A noble dynasty! Monseigneur himself is called Jean XII, and the first +name of his son must also be followed by a number, like that of a +prince." + +He stopped. Each one of his words lulled and prolonged the reverie of +Angelique. She continued, in a half-singing tone: "Oh! what I wish for +myself! That which I would like above all else----" + +Holding the bobbin, without touching the thread, she twisted the gold by +moving it from left to right alternately on the vellum, fastening it at +each turn with a stitch in silk. Little by little the great golden lily +blossomed out. + +Soon she continued: "Yes, what I would like above all would be to marry +a prince--a prince whom I had never seen; who would come towards sunset, +just before the waning daylight, and would take me by the hand and lead +me to his palace. And I should wish him to be very handsome, as well as +very rich! Yes, the most beautiful and the wealthiest man that had ever +been seen on the earth! He should have superb horses that I could hear +neighing under my windows, and jewels which he would pour in streams +into my lap, and gold that would fall from my hands in a deluge when I +opened them. And what I wish still further is, that this prince of +mine should love me to distraction, so that I might also love him +desperately. We would then remain very young, very good, and very noble, +for ever!" + +Hubert, leaving his work, had approached her smilingly; whilst +Hubertine, in a friendly way, shook her finger at the young girl. + +"Oh, what a vain little creature! Ah! ambitious child, you are quite +incorrigible. Now, you are quite beside yourself with your need of being +a queen. At all events such a dream is much better than to steal sugar +and to be impertinent. But really, you must not indulge in such fancies. +It is the Evil One who prompts them, and it is pride that speaks, as +well as passion." + +Gay and candid, Angelique looked her in the face as she said: "But +mother, mother mine, what are you saying? Is it, then, a sin to love +that which is rich and beautiful? I love it because it is rich and +beautiful, and so cheers my heart and soul. A beautiful object brightens +everything that is near it, and helps one to live, as the sun does. You +know very well that I am not selfish. Money? Oh! you would see what a +good use I would make of it, if only I had it in abundance! I would rain +it over the town; it should be scattered among the miserable. Think what +a blessing it would be to have no more poverty! In the first place, +as for you and my father, I would give you everything. You should be +dressed in robes and garments of brocades, like the lords and ladies of +the olden time." + +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "It is ridiculous," she +said. "But, my dear child, you must remember that you are poor, and that +you have not a penny for your marriage-portion. How can you, then, for a +moment dream of a prince? Are you, then, so desirous to marry a prince?" + +"Why should not I wish to marry such a man?" And she looked quite +amazed, as she continued: "Marry him? Of course I would do so. Since he +would have plenty of money, what difference would it make if I had none? +I should owe everything to him, and on that very account I should love +him all the more deeply." + +This victorious reasoning enchanted Hubert, who seemed carried above the +earth by Angelique's enthusiasm. He would willingly have accompanied her +on the wings of a cloud to the regions of fancy. + +"She is right," he exclaimed. + +But his wife glanced at him reprovingly. She became quite stern. + +"My child, you will think differently later on, when you know life +better." + +"Life?--but I know it already." + +"How is it possible for you to know it? You are too young; you are +ignorant of evil. Yet evil exists and is very powerful." + +"Evil--evil?" + +Angelique repeated the word very slowly, as if to penetrate its meaning. +And in her pure eyes was a look of innocent surprise. Evil? She knew all +about it, for she had read of it in the "Golden Legend." Was not +evil Satan himself? And had not she seen how, although he constantly +reappeared, he was always overthrown? After every battle he remained +crushed to earth, thoroughly conquered, and in a most pitiable state. + +"Evil? Ah, mother mine, if you knew how little I fear it! It is only +necessary once to conquer it and afterwards life is all happiness." + +Hubertine appeared troubled and looked anxious. + +"You will make me almost regret having brought you up in this house, +alone with us two, and away from the world as it were. I am really +afraid that some day we shall regret having kept you in such complete +ignorance of the realities of life. What Paradise are you looking for? +What is your idea of the world?" + +A look of hope brightened the face of the young girl, while, bending +forward, she still moved the bobbin back and forth with a continuous, +even motion. + +"You then really think, mother, that I am very foolish, do you not? This +world is full of brave people. When one is honest and industrious, one +is always rewarded. I know also that there are some bad people, but they +do not count. We do not associate with them, and they are soon punished +for their misdeeds. And then, you see, as for the world, it produces on +me, from a distance, the effect of a great garden; yes, of an immense +park, all filled with flowers and with sunshine. It is such a blessing +to live, and life is so sweet that it cannot be bad." + +She grew excited, as if intoxicated by the brightness of the silks and +the gold threads she manipulated so well with her skilful fingers. + +"Happiness is a very simple thing. We are happy, are we not? All three +of us? And why? Simply because we love each other. Then, after all, it +is no more difficult than that; it is only necessary to love and to +be loved. So, you see, when the one I expect really comes, we shall +recognise each other immediately. It is true I have not yet seen him, +but I know exactly what he ought to be. He will enter here and will say: +'I have come in search of you.' And I shall reply: 'I expected you, and +will go with you.' He will take me with him, and our future will be at +once decided upon. He will go into a palace, where all the furniture +will be of gold, encrusted in diamonds. Oh, it is all very simple!" + +"You are crazy; so do not talk any more," interrupted Hubertine, coldly. + +And seeing that the young girl was still excited, and ready to continue +to indulge her fancies, she continued to reprove her. + +"I beg you to say no more, for you absolutely make me tremble. Unhappy +child! When we really marry you to some poor mortal you will be crushed, +as you fall to earth from these heights of the imagination. Happiness, +for the greater part of the world, consists in humility and obedience." + +Angelique continued to smile with an almost obstinate tranquillity. + +"I expect him, and he will come." + +"But she is right," exclaimed Hubert, again carried away by her +enthusiasm. "Why need you scold her? She is certainly pretty, and dainty +enough for a king. Stranger things than that have happened, and who +knows what may come?" + +Sadly Hubertine looked at him with her calm eyes. + +"Do not encourage her to do wrong, my dear. You know, better than +anyone, what it costs to follow too much the impulses of one's heart." + +He turned deadly pale, and great tears came to the edge of his eyelids. +She immediately repented of having reproved him, and rose to offer him +her hands. But gently disengaging himself, he said, stammeringly: + +"No, no, my dear; I was wrong. Angelique, do you understand me? You must +always listen to your mother. She alone is wise, and we are both of us +very foolish. I am wrong; yes, I acknowledge it." + +Too disturbed to sit down, leaving the cope upon which he had been +working, he occupied himself in pasting a banner that was finished, +although still in its frame. After having taken the pot of Flemish glue +from the chest of drawers, he moistened with a brush the underside of +the material, to make the embroidery firmer. His lips still trembled, +and he remained quiet. + +But if Angelique, in her obedience, was also still, she allowed her +thoughts to follow their course, and her fancies mounted higher and +still higher. She showed it in every feature--in her mouth, that ecstasy +had half opened, as well as in her eyes, where the infinite depth of her +visions seemed reflected. Now, this dream of a poor girl, she wove it +into the golden embroidery. It was for this unknown hero that, little +by little, there seemed to grow on the white satin the beautiful great +lilies, and the roses, and the monogram of the Blessed Virgin. The stems +of the lilies had all the gracious pointings of a jet of light, whilst +the long slender leaves, made of spangles, each one being sewed on with +gold twist, fell in a shower of stars. In the centre, the initials of +Mary were like the dazzling of a relief in massive gold, a marvellous +blending of lacework and of embossing, or goffering, which burnt like +the glory of a tabernacle in the mystic fire of its rays. And the roses +of delicately-coloured silks seemed real, and the whole chasuble was +resplendent in its whiteness of satin, which appeared covered almost +miraculously with its golden blossoms. + +After a long silence, Angelique, whose cheeks were flushed by the blood +which mounted into them from her excitement, raised her head, and, +looking at Hubertine, said again, a little maliciously: + +"I expect him, and he will come." + +It was absurd for her thus to give loose reins to her imagination. But +she was willful. She was convinced in her own mind that everything would +come to pass, eventually, as she wished it might. Nothing could weaken +her happy conviction. + +"Mother," she added, "why do you not believe me, since I assure you it +must be as I say?" + +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders, and concluded the best thing for her +to do was to tease her. + +"But I thought, my child, that you never intended being married. Your +saints, who seem to have turned your head, they led single lives. Rather +than do otherwise they converted their lovers, ran away from their +homes, and were put to death." + +The young girl listened and was confused. But soon she laughed merrily. +Her perfect health, and all her love of life, rang out in this sonorous +gaiety. "The histories of the saints! But that was ages ago! Times have +entirely changed since then. God having so completely triumphed, no +longer demands that anyone should die for Him." + +When reading the Legend, it was the marvels which fascinated her, not +the contempt of the world and the desire for death. She added: "Most +certainly I expect to be married; to love and to be loved, and thus be +very happy." + +"Be careful, my dear," said Hubertine, continuing to tease her. "You +will make your guardian angel, Saint Agnes, weep. Do not you know that +she refused the son of the Governor, and preferred to die, that she +might be wedded to Jesus?" + +The great clock of the belfry began to strike; numbers of sparrows flew +down from an enormous ivy-plant which framed one of the windows of +the apse. In the workroom, Hubert, still silent, had just hung up the +banner, moist from the glue, that it might dry, on one of the great iron +hooks fastened to the wall. + +The sun in the course of the morning had lightened up different parts +of the room, and now it shone brightly upon the old tools--the diligent, +the wicker winder, and the brass chandelier--and as its rays fell upon +the two workers, the frame at which they were seated seemed almost +on fire, with its bands polished by use, and with the various objects +placed upon it, the reels of gold cord, the spangles, and the bobbins of +silk. + +Then, in this soft, charming air of spring, Angelique looked at +the beautiful symbolic lily she had just finished. Opening wide her +ingenuous eyes, she replied, with an air of confiding happiness, to +Hubertine's last remark in regard to the child-martyr, Saint Agnes: + +"Ah, yes! But it was Jesus who wished it to be so." + + + +CHAPTER V + +Notwithstanding her thoroughly cheerful nature, Angelique liked +solitude; and it was to her the greatest of recreations to be alone +in her room, morning and evening. There she gave herself up to her +thoughts; there she indulged to the full scope in her most joyous +fancies. Sometimes even during the day, when she could go there for a +moment, she was as happy as if, in full freedom, she had committed some +childish prank. + +The chamber was very large, taking in at least half of the upper story, +the other half being the garret. It was whitewashed everywhere; not only +the walls and the beams, but the joists, even to the visible copings of +the mansard part of the roof; and in this bare whiteness, the old oaken +furniture seemed almost as black as ebony. At the time of the decoration +of the sleeping-room below, and the improvements made in the parlour, +the ancient furniture, which had been bought at various epochs, had +been carried upstairs. There was a great carved chest of the Renaissance +period, a table and chairs which dated from the reign of Louis XIII, an +enormous bedstead, style Louis XIV, and a very handsome wardrobe, Louis +XV. In the middle of these venerable old things a white porcelain stove, +and the little toilet-table, covered with a pretty oilcloth, seemed out +of place and to mar the dull harmony. Curtained with an old-fashioned +rose-coloured chintz, on which were bouquets of heather, so faded that +the colour had become a scarcely perceptible pink, the enormous bedstead +preserved above all the majesty of its great age. + +But what pleased Angelique more than anything else was the little +balcony on which the window opened. Of the two original windows, one +of them, that at the left, had been closed by simply fastening it with +nails, and the balcony, which formerly extended across the front of +the building, was now only before the window at the right. As the lower +beams were still strong, a new floor had been made, and above it an +iron railing was firmly attached in place of the old worm-eaten wooden +balustrade. This made a charming little corner, a quiet nook under the +gable point, the leaden laths of which had been renewed at the beginning +of the century. By bending over a little, the whole garden-front of the +house could be seen in a very dilapidated state, with its sub-basement +of little cut stones, its panels ornamented with imitation bricks, and +its large bay window, which to-day had been made somewhat smaller. The +roof of the great porch of the kitchen-door was covered with zinc. And +above, the interduces of the top, which projected three feet or more, +were strengthened by large, upright pieces of wood, the ends of which +rested on the string-course of the first floor. All this gave to the +balcony an appearance of being in a perfect vegetation of timber, as if +in the midst of a forest of old wood, which was green with wallflowers +and moss. + +Since she occupied the chamber, Angelique had spent many hours there, +leaning over the balustrade and simply looking. At first, directly +under her was the garden, darkened by the eternal shade of the evergreen +box-trees; in the corner nearest the church, a cluster of small +lilac-bushes surrounded an old granite bench; while in the opposite +corner, half hidden by a beautiful ivy which covered the whole wall +at the end as if with a mantle, was a little door opening upon the +Clos-Marie, a vast, uncultivated field. This Clos-Marie was the old +orchard of the monks. A rivulet of purest spring-water crossed it, the +Chevrotte, where the women who occupied the houses in the neighbourhood +had the privilege of washing their linen; certain poor people sheltered +themselves in the ruins of an old tumble-down mill; and no other persons +inhabited this field, which was connected with the Rue Magloire simply +by the narrow lane of the Guerdaches, which passed between the high +walls of the Bishop's Palace and those of the Hotel Voincourt. In +summer, the centenarian elms of the two parks barred with their +green-leaved tops the straight, limited horizon which in the centre +was cut off by the gigantic brow of the Cathedral. Thus shut in on +all sides, the Clos-Marie slept in the quiet peace of its abandonment, +overrun with weeds and wild grass, planted with poplars and willows sown +by the wind. Among the great pebbles the Chevrotte leaped, singing as it +went, and making a continuous music as if of crystal. + +Angelique was never weary of this out-of-the-way nook. Yet for seven +years she had seen there each morning only what she had looked at on the +previous evening. The trees in the little park of the Hotel Voincourt, +whose front was on the Grand Rue, were so tufted and bushy that it +was only in the winter she could occasionally catch a glimpse of the +daughter of the Countess, Mademoiselle Claire, a young girl of her own +age. + +In the garden of the Bishop was a still more dense thickness of +branches, and she had often tried in vain to distinguish there the +violet-coloured cassock of Monseigneur; and the old gate, with its +Venetian slats above and at the sides, must have been fastened up for +a very long time, for she never remembered to have seen it opened, not +even for a gardener to pass through. Besides the washerwomen in the +Clos, she always saw the same poor, ragged little children playing or +sleeping in the grass. + +The spring this year was unusually mild. She was just sixteen years of +age, and until now she had been glad to welcome with her eyes alone +the growing green again of the Clos-Marie under the April sunshine. +The shooting out of the tender leaves, the transparency of the warm +evenings, and all the reviving odours of the earth had simply amused her +heretofore. But this year, at the first bud, her heart seemed to beat +more quickly. As the grass grew higher and the wind brought to her all +the strong perfumes of the fresh verdure, there was in her whole being +an increasing agitation. Sudden inexplicable pain would at times seize +her throat and almost choke her. One evening she threw herself, weeping, +into Hubertine's arms, having no cause whatever for grief, but, on the +contrary, overwhelmed with so great, unknown a happiness, that her heart +was too full for restraint. In the night her dreams were delightful. +Shadows seemed to pass before her, and she fell into such an ecstatic +state that on awakening she did not dare to recall them, so confused +was she by the angelic visions of bliss. Sometimes, in the middle of her +great bed, she would rouse herself suddenly, her two hands joined and +pressed against her breast as if a heavy burden were weighing her down +and almost suffocating her. She would then jump up, rush across the +room in her bare feet, and, opening the window wide, would stand there, +trembling slightly, until at last the pure fresh air calmed her. She +was continually surprised at this great change in herself, as if the +knowledge of joys and griefs hitherto unknown had been revealed to +her in the enchantment of dreams, and that her eyes had been opened to +natural beauties which surrounded her. + +What--was it really true that the unseen lilacs and laburnums of the +Bishop's garden had so sweet an odour that she could no longer breathe +it without a flush of colour mounting to her cheeks? Never before had +she perceived this warmth of perfume which now touched her as if with a +living breath. + +And again, why had she never remarked in preceding years a great +Japanese Paulownia in blossom, which looked like an immense violet +bouquet as it appeared between two elm-trees in the garden of the +Voincourts? This year, as soon as she looked at it, her eyes grew +moist, so much was she affected by the delicate tints of the pale purple +flowers. She also fancied that the Chevrotte had never chattered +so gaily over the pebbles among the willows on its banks. The river +certainly talked; she listened to its vague words, constantly repeated, +which filled her heart with trouble. Was it, then, no longer the field +of other days, that everything in it so astonished her and affected her +senses in so unusual a way? Or, rather, was not she herself so changed +that, for the first time, she appreciated the beauty of the coming into +life of trees and plants? + +But the Cathedral at her right, the enormous mass which obstructed the +sky, surprised her yet more. Each morning she seemed to see it for the +first time; she made constant discoveries in it, and was delighted to +think that these old stones lived and had lived like herself. She did +not reason at all on the subject, she had very little knowledge, but +she gave herself up to the mystic flight of the giant, whose coming into +existence had demanded three centuries of time, and where were placed +one above the other the faith and the belief of generations. At the +foundation, it was kneeling as if crushed by prayer, with the Romanesque +chapels of the nave, and with the round arched windows, plain, +unornamented, except by slender columns under the archivolts. Then it +seemed to rise, lifting its face and hands towards heaven, with the +pointed windows of its nave, built eighty years later; high, delicate +windows, divided by mullions on which were broken bows and roses. Then +again it sprung from the earth as if in ecstasy, erect, with the piers +and flying buttresses of the choir finished and ornamented two centuries +after in the fullest flamboyant Gothic, charged with its bell-turrets, +spires, and pinnacles. A balustrade had been added, ornamented with +trefoils, bordering the terrace on the chapels of the apse. Gargoyles at +the foot of the flying buttresses carried off the water from the roofs. +The top was also decorated with flowery emblems. The whole edifice +seemed to burst into blossom in proportion as it approached the sky in +a continual upward flight, as if, relieved at being delivered from the +ancient sacerdotal terror, it was about to lose itself in the bosom of a +God of pardon and of love. It seemed to have a physical sensation which +permeated it, made it light and happy, like a sacred hymn it had just +heard sung, very pure and holy, as it passed into the upper air. + +Moreover, the Cathedral was alive. Hundreds of swallows had constructed +their nests under the borders of trefoil, and even in the hollows of the +bell-turrets and the pinnacles, and they were continually brushing their +wings against the flying buttresses and the piers which they inhabited. +There were also the wood-pigeons of the elms in the Bishop's garden, who +held themselves up proudly on the borders of the terraces, going slowly, +as if walking merely to show themselves off. Sometimes, half lost in +the blue sky, looking scarcely larger than a fly, a crow alighted on +the point of a spire to smooth its wings. The old stones themselves were +animated by the quiet working of the roots of a whole flora of plants, +the lichens and the grasses, which pushed themselves through the +openings in the walls. On very stormy days the entire apse seemed to +awake and to grumble under the noise of the rain as it beat against the +leaden tiles of the roof, running off by the gutters of the cornices and +rolling from story to story with the clamour of an overflowing torrent. +Even the terrible winds of October and of March gave to it a soul, a +double voice of anger and of supplication, as they whistled through +its forests of gables and arcades of roseate ornaments and of little +columns. The sun also filled it with life from the changing play of +its rays; from the early morning, which rejuvenated it with a delicate +gaiety, even to the evening, when, under the slightly lengthened-out +shadows, it basked in the unknown. + +And it had its interior existence. The ceremonies with which it was ever +vibrating, the constant swinging of its bells, the music of the organ, +and the chanting of the priests, all these were like the pulsation of +its veins. There was always a living murmur in it: half-lost sounds, +like the faint echo of a Low Mass; the rustling of the kneeling +penitents, a slight, scarcely perceptible shivering, nothing but the +devout ardour of a prayer said without words and with closed lips. + +Now, as the days grew longer, Angelique passed more and more time in the +morning and evening with her elbows on the balustrade of the balcony, +side by side with her great friend, the Cathedral. She loved it the best +at night, when she saw the enormous mass detach itself like a huge block +on the starry skies. The form of the building was lost. It was with +difficulty that she could even distinguish the flying buttresses, which +were thrown like bridges into the empty space. It was, nevertheless, +awake in the darkness, filled with a dream of seven centuries, made +grand by the multitudes who had hoped or despaired before its altars. +It was a continual watch, coming from the infinite of the past, going to +the eternity of the future; the mysterious and terrifying wakefulness +of a house where God Himself never sleeps. And in the dark, motionless, +living mass, her looks were sure to seek the window of a chapel of the +choir, on the level of the bushes of the Clos-Marie, the only one which +was lighted up, and which seemed like an eye which was kept open all +the night. Behind it, at the corner of a pillar, was an ever-burning +altar-lamp. In fact, it was the same chapel which the abbots of old had +given to Jean V d'Hautecoeur, and to his descendants, with the right of +being buried there, in return for their liberality. Dedicated to Saint +George, it had a stained-glass window of the twelfth century, on which +was painted the legend of the saint. From the moment of the coming on of +twilight, this historic representation came out from the shade, +lighted up as if it were an apparition, and that was why Angelique was +fascinated, and loved this particular point, as she gazed at it with her +dreamy eyes. + +The background of the window was blue and the edges red. Upon this +sombre richness of colouring, the personages, whose flying draperies +allowed their limbs to be seen, stood out in relief in clear light +on the glass. Three scenes of the Legend, placed one above the other, +filled the space quite to the upper arch. At the bottom, the daughter of +the king, dressed in costly royal robes, on her way from the city to be +eaten by the dreadful monster, meets Saint George near the pond, from +which the head of the dragon already appears; and a streamer of silk +bears these words: "Good Knight, do not run any danger for me, as you +can neither help me nor deliver me, but will have to perish with me." +Then in the middle the combat takes place, and the saint, on horseback, +cuts the beast through and through. This is explained by the following +words: "George wielded so well his lance that he wounded the enemy and +threw him upon the earth." At last, at the top, the Princess is seen +leading back into the city the conquered dragon: "George said, 'Tie your +scarf around his neck, and do not be afraid of anything, oh beautiful +maiden, for when you have done so he will follow you like a well-trained +dog.'" + +When the window was new it must have been surmounted in the middle of +the arch by an ornamental design. But later, when the chapel belonged to +the Hautecoeurs, they replaced the original work by their family coat +of arms. And that was why, in the obscure nights, armorial bearings of +a more recent date shown out above the painted legend. They were the +old family arms of Hautecoeur, quartered with the well-known shield of +Jerusalem; the latter being argent, a cross potencee, or, between four +crosselettes of the same; and those of the family, azure, a castle, or, +on it a shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent, the whole +between three fleurs-de-lys, or; the shield was supported on the dexter +and sinister sides by two wyverns, or; and surmounted by the silver +helmet with its blue feathers, embossed in gold, placed frontwise, and +closed by eleven bars, which belongs only to Dukes, Marshals of France, +titled Lords and heads of Sovereign Corporations. And for motto were +these words: "_Si Dieu volt, ie vueil_." + +Little by little, from having seen him piercing the monster with +his lance, whilst the king's daughter raised her clasped hands in +supplication, Angelique became enamoured of Saint George. He was her +hero. At the distance where she was she could not well distinguish the +figures, and she looked at them as if in the aggrandisement of a dream; +the young girl was slight, was a blonde, and, in short, had a face not +unlike her own, while the saint was frank and noble looking, with the +beauty of an archangel. It was as if she herself had just been saved, +and she could have kissed his hands with gratitude. And to this +adventure, of which she dreamed confusedly, of a meeting on the border +of a lake and of being rescued from a great danger by a young man more +beautiful than the day, was added the recollection of her excursion +to the Chateau of Hautecoeur, and a calling up to view of the feudal +donjon, in its original state, peopled with the noble lords of olden +times. + +The arms glistened like the stars on summer nights; she knew them well, +she read them easily, with their sonorous words, for she was so in the +habit of embroidering heraldic symbols. There was Jean V, who stopped +from door to door in the town ravaged by the plague, and went in to +kiss the lips of the dying, and cured them by saying, "_Si Dieu volt, +ie vueil_." And Felician III, who, forewarned that a severe illness +prevented Philippe le Bel from going to Palestine, went there in his +place, barefooted and holding a candle in his hand, and for that he had +the right of quartering the arms of Jerusalem with his own. Other and +yet other histories came to her mind, especially those of the ladies of +Hautecoeur, the "happy dead," as they were called in the Legend. In +that family the women die young, in the midst of some great happiness. +Sometimes two or three generations would be spared, then suddenly Death +would appear, smiling, as with gentle hands he carried away the daughter +or the wife of a Hautecoeur, the oldest of them being scarcely twenty +years of age, at the moment when they were at the height of earthly love +and bliss. For instance, Laurette, daughter of Raoul I, on the evening +of her betrothal to her cousin Richard, who lived in the castle, having +seated herself at her window in the Tower of David, saw him at his +window in the Tower of Charlemagne, and, thinking she heard him call +her, as at that moment a ray of moonlight seemed to throw a bridge +between them, she walked toward him. But when in the middle she made in +her haste a false step and overpassed the ray, she fell, and was crushed +at the foot of the tower. So since that day, each night when the moon is +bright and clear, she can be seen walking in the air around the Chateau, +which is bathed in white by the silent touch of her immense robe. Then +Balbine, wife of Herve VII, thought for six months that her husband had +been killed in the wars. But, unwilling to give up all hope, she watched +for him daily from the top of the donjon, and when at last she saw him +one morning on the highway, returning to his home, she ran down quickly +to meet him, but was so overcome with joy, that she fell dead at the +entrance of the castle. Even at this day, notwithstanding the ruins, as +soon as twilight falls, it is said she still descends the steps, runs +from story to story, glides through the corridors and the rooms, and +passes like a phantom through the gaping windows which open into the +desert void. All return. Isabeau, Gudule, Vonne, Austreberthe, all these +"happy dead," loved by the stern messenger, who spared them from the +vicissitudes of life by taking them suddenly when, in early youth, they +thought only of happiness. On certain nights this white-robed band fill +the house as if with a flight of doves. To their number had lately been +added the mother of the son of Monseigneur, who was found lifeless on +the floor by the cradle of her infant, where, although ill, she dragged +herself to die, in the fullness of her delight at embracing him. These +had haunted the imagination of Angelique; she spoke of them as if they +were facts of recent occurrence, which might have happened the day +before. She had read the names of Laurette and of Balbine on old +memorial tablets let into the walls of the chapel. Then why should not +she also die young and very happy, as they had? The armouries would +glisten as now, the saint would come down from his place in the +stained-glass window, and she would be carried away to heaven on the +sweet breath of a kiss. Why not? + +The "Golden Legend" had taught her this: Was not it true that the +miracle is really the common law, and follows the natural course of +events? It exists, is active, works with an extreme facility on +every occasion, multiplies itself, spreads itself out, overflows even +uselessly, as if for the pleasure of contradicting the self-evident +rules of Nature. Its power seems to be on the same plane as that of the +Creator. Albrigan, King of Edeese, writes to Jesus, who replies to him. +Ignatius receives letters from the Blessed Virgin. In all places the +Mother and the Son appear, disguise themselves, and talk with an air of +smiling good-nature. When Stephen meets them they are very familiar with +him. All the virgins are wed to Jesus, and the martyrs mount to heaven, +where they are to be united to Mary. And as for the angels and saints, +they are the ordinary companions of men. They come, they go, they pass +through walls, they appear in dreams, they speak from the height of +clouds, they assist at births and deaths, they support those who are +tortured, they deliver those who are in prison, and they go on dangerous +missions. Following in their footsteps is an inexhaustible efflorescence +of prodigies. Sylvester binds the mouth of a dragon with a thread. +The earth rises to make a seat for Hilary, whose companions wished to +humiliate him. A precious stone falls into the chalice of Saint Loup. A +tree crushes the enemies of Saint Martin; a dog lets loose a hare, and +a great fire ceases to burn at his command. Mary the Egyptian walks +upon the sea; honey-bees fly from the mouth of Ambrosius at his birth. +Continually saints cure diseases of the eye, withered limbs, paralysis, +leprosy, and especially the plague. There is no disease that resists the +sign of the Cross. In a crowd, the suffering and the feeble are placed +together, that they may be cured in a mass, as if by a thunderbolt. +Death itself is conquered, and resurrections are so frequent that they +become quite an everyday affair. And when the saints themselves are +dead the wonders do not cease, but are redoubled, and are like perennial +flowers which spring from their tombs. It is said that from the head and +the feet of Nicholas flowed two fountains of oil which cured every ill. +When the tomb of Saint Cecilia was opened an odour of roses came up from +her coffin. That of Dorothea was filled with manna. All the bones of +virgins and of martyrs performed marvels: they confounded liars, they +forced robbers to give back their stolen goods, they granted the prayers +of childless wives, they brought the dying back to life. Nothing was +impossible for them; in fact the Invisible reigned, and the only law +was the caprice of the supernatural. In the temples the sorcerers mix +themselves up with the popular idea, and scythes cut the grass without +being held, brass serpents move, and one hears bronze statues laugh and +wolves sing. Immediately the saints reply and overwhelm them. The Host +is changed into living food, sacred Christian images shed drops of +blood, sticks set upright in the ground blossom into flower, springs +of pure water appear in dry places, warm loaves of bread multiply +themselves at the feet of the needy, a tree bows down before some holy +person, and so on. Then, again, decapitated heads speak, broken chalices +mend themselves, the rain turns aside from a church to submerge a +neighbouring palace, the robes of hermits never wear out, but renew +themselves at each season like the skin of a beast. In Armenia at one +time the persecutors threw into the sea the leaden coffins of five +martyrs, and the one containing the body of Saint Bartholomew the +Apostle took the lead, and the four others accompanied it as a guard of +honour. So, all together, in regular order, like a fine squadron, they +floated slowly along, urged by the breeze, through the whole length of +the sea, until they reached the shores of Sicily. + +Angelique was a firm believer in miracles. In her ignorance she lived +surrounded by wonders. The rising of the stars, or the opening of a +violet; each fact was a surprise to her. It would have appeared to her +simply ridiculous to have imagined the world so mechanical as to +be governed by fixed laws. There were so many things far beyond her +comprehension, she felt herself so weak and helpless in the midst of +forces whose power it was impossible to measure, that she would not even +have suspected they existed, had it not been for the great questioning +breath which at times passed over her face. So, trusting, and +as thoroughly Christian as if belonging to the primitive Church, +spiritually fed by her readings from the "Golden Legend," she gave +herself up entirely into the hands of God, with only the spot of +original sin to be cleansed from her soul. She had no liberty of action +or freedom of will; God alone could secure her salvation by giving +her the gift of His grace. That grace had been already manifested by +bringing her to the hospitable roof of the Huberts, where, under the +shadow of the Cathedral, she could lead a life of submission, of purity, +and of faith. She often heard within her soul the grumblings of heredity +tendency to evil, and asked herself what would have become of her had +she been left on her native soil. Without doubt she would have been bad; +while here, in this blessed corner of the earth, she had grown up free +from temptation, strong and healthy. Was it not grace that had given her +this home, where she was surrounded by such charming histories she had +so easily committed to memory, where she had learned such perfect faith +in the present and hope in the future, and where the invisible and +unknown, or the miracles of ages, seemed natural to her, and quite on +a level with her daily life? It had armed her for all combats, as +heretofore it had armed the martyrs. And she created an imaginary +experience for herself almost unknowingly. It was, in fact, the +inevitable result of a mind overcharged and excited by fables; it was +increased by her ignorance of the life within and about her, as well +as from her loneliness. She had not had many companions, so all desires +went from her only to return to her. + +Sometimes she was in such a peculiar state that she would put her hands +over her face, as if doubting her own identity. Was she herself only +an illusion, and would she suddenly disappear some day and vanish into +nothingness? Who would tell her the truth? + +One evening in the following May, on this same balcony where she had +spent so much time in vague dreams, she suddenly broke into tears. +She was not low-spirited in the least, but it seemed to her as if her +anxiety arose from a vain expectation of a visit from someone. Yet who +was there to come? It was very dark; the Clos-Marie marked itself out +like a great black spot under the sky filled with stars, and she could +but vaguely distinguish the heavy masses of the old elm-trees of the +Bishop's garden, and of the park of the Hotel Voincourt. Alone the +window of the chapel sent out a little light. If no one were to come, +why did her heart beat so rapidly? It was nothing new, this feeling of +waiting, or of hope, but it was dated from the long ago, from her early +youth; it was like a desire, a looking forward for something which +had grown with her growth, and ended in this feverish anxiety of her +seventeen years. Nothing would have surprised her, as for weeks she +had heard the sound of voices in this mysterious corner, peopled by her +imagination. The "Golden Legend" had left there its supernatural world +of saints and martyrs, and the miracle was all ready to appear there. +She understood well that everything was animated, that the voices came +from objects hitherto silent; that the leaves of the trees, the waters +of the Chevrotte, and the stones of the Cathedral spoke to her. But what +was it that all these whisperings from the Invisible wished to explain? +What did these unknown forces above and around her wish to do with her +as they floated in the air? She kept her eyes fixed upon the darkness, +as if she were at an appointed meeting with she knew not whom, and +she waited, still waited, until she was overcome with sleep, whilst it +seemed to her as if some supernatural power were deciding her destiny, +irrespective of her will or wish. + +For four evenings Angelique was nervous, and wept a great deal in +the darkness. She remained in her usual place and was patient. The +atmosphere seemed to envelope her, and as it increased in density it +oppressed her more and more, as if the horizon itself had become smaller +and was shutting her in. Everything weighed upon her heart. Now there +was a dull murmuring of voices in her brain; yet she was not able to +hear them clearly, or to distinguish their meaning. It was as if Nature +itself had taken possession of her, and the earth, with the vast heavens +above it, had penetrated into her being. At the least sound her hands +burned and her eyes tried to pierce the darkness. Was the wonderful +event about to take place, the prodigy she awaited? No, there was +nothing yet. It was probably merely the beating of the wings of a night +bird. And she listened again, attentively, until she could distinguish +the difference of sound between the leaves of the elms and the willows. +At least twenty times she trembled violently when a little stone rolled +in the rivulet, or a prowling animal jumped over the wall. She leaned +forward; but there was nothing--still nothing. + +At last, after some days, when at night a warmer darkness fell from the +sky where no moon was visible, a change began. She felt it, but it was +so slight, so almost imperceptible, she feared that she might have been +mistaken in the little sound she heard, which seemed unlike the usual +noises she knew so well. She held her breath, as the sound seemed +very long in returning. At last it came again, louder than before, but +equally confused. She would have said it came from a great distance, +that it was a scarcely-defined step, and that the trembling of the air +announced the approach of something out of sight and out of hearing. +That which she was expecting came slowly from the invisible slight +movement of what surrounded her. Little by little it disengaged itself +from her dream, like a realisation of the vague longings of her youth. +Was it the Saint George of the chapel window, who had come down from his +place and was walking on the grass in silence towards her? Just then, +by chance, the altar-light was dimmed, so that she could not distinguish +the faintest outline of the figures on the painted glass, but all seemed +like a blue cloud of vapoury mist. That was all she heard or learned at +that time of the mystery. + +But on the morrow, at the same hour, by a like obscurity, the noise +increased and approached a little nearer. It was certainly the sound of +steps, of real steps, which walked upon the earth. They would stop for a +moment, then recommence here and there, moving up and down, without her +being able to say precisely where they were. Perhaps they came from +the garden of the Voincourts, where some night pedestrian was lingering +under the trees. Or it might be, rather, that they were in the tufted +masses of the great lilac-bushes of the park of the Bishop, whose strong +perfume made her almost ill. She might do her best to try to penetrate +the darkness, it was only by her hearing that she was forewarned of the +coming events, aided a little by her sense of smell, as the perfume of +the flowers was increased as if a breath were mingled with it. And +so for several nights the steps resounded under the balcony, and she +listened as they came nearer, until they reached the walls under her +feet. There they stopped, and a long silence followed, until she seemed +almost to lose consciousness in this slow embrace of something of which +she was ignorant. + +Not long after, she saw one evening the little crescent of the new moon +appear among the stars. But it soon disappeared behind the brow of +the Cathedral, like a bright, living eye that the lid re-covers. +She followed it with regret, and at each nightfall she awaited its +appearance, watched its growth, and was impatient for this torch which +would ere long light up the invisible. In fact, little by little, the +Clos-Marie came out from the obscurity, with the ruins of its old mill, +its clusters of trees, and its rapid little river. And then, in the +light, creation continued. That which came from a vision ended in being +embodied. For at first she only perceived that a dim shadow was moving +under the moonlight. What was it, then? A branch moved to and fro by the +wind? Or was it a large bat in constant motion? There were moments when +everything disappeared, and the field slept in so deathly a stillness +that she thought her eyes had deceived her. Soon there was no longer any +doubt possible, for a dark object had certainly just crossed the open +space and had glided from one willow-tree to another. It appeared, then +disappeared, without her being able exactly to define it. + +One evening she thought she distinguished the dim outline of two +shoulders, and at once she turned her eyes towards the chapel window. It +had a greyish tint, as if empty, for the moon shining directly upon +it had deadened the light within. At that moment she noticed that the +living shadow grew larger, as it approached continually nearer and +nearer, walking in the grass at the side of the church. In proportion as +she realised it was a fact that someone was there, she was overcome by +an indefinable sensation, a nervous feeling that one has on being looked +at by mysterious unseen eyes. + +Certainly someone was there under the trees who was regarding her +fixedly. She had on her hands and face, as it were, a physical +impression of those long, ardent, yet timid looks; but she did not +withdraw herself from them, because she knew they were pure, and came +from the enchanted world of which she had read in the "Golden Legend"; +and, in the certainty of a promised happiness, her first anxiety was +quickly changed into a delicious tranquillity. + +One night, suddenly, on the ground whitened by the moon's rays, the +shadow designed itself plainly and clearly. It was indeed that of a man +whom she could not see, as he was hidden by the willows. As he did not +move, she was able to look for a long time at his shadow. + +From that moment Angelique had a secret. Her bare, whitewashed chamber +was filled with it. She remained there for hours lying on her great +bed--where she seemed lost, she was so little--her eyes closed, but not +asleep, and seeing continually before her, in her waking dreams, this +motionless shadow upon the earth. When she re-opened her eyes at dawn, +her looks wandered from the enormous wardrobe to the odd carved chest, +from the porcelain stove to the little toilet-table, as if surprised +at not seeing there the mysterious silhouette, which she could have so +easily and precisely traced from memory. In her sleep she had seen it +gliding among the pale heather-blossoms on her curtains. In her dreams, +as in her waking hours, her mind was filled with it. It was a companion +shadow to her own. She had thus a double being, although she was alone +with her fancies. + +This secret she confided to no one, not even to Hubertine, to whom, +until now, she had always told even her thoughts. When the latter, +surprised at her gaiety, questioned her, she blushed deeply as she +replied that the early spring had made her very happy. From morning to +evening she hummed little snatches of song, like a bee intoxicated +by the heat of the sun's rays. Never before had the chasubles she +embroidered been so resplendent with silk and gold. The Huberts smiled +as they watched her, thinking simply that this exuberance of spirits +came from her state of perfect health. As the day waned she grew more +excited, she sang at the rising of the moon, and as soon as the hour +arrived she hurried to her balcony, and waited for the shadow to appear. +During all the first quarters of the moon she found it exact at each +rendezvous, erect and silent. But that was all. What was the cause +of it? Why was it there? Was it, indeed, only a shadow? Was not it, +perhaps, the saint who had left his window, or the angel who had +formerly loved Saint Cecilia, and who had now come to love her in her +turn? Although she was not vain, these thoughts made her proud, and were +as sweet to her as an invisible caress. Then she grew impatient to know +more, and her watching recommenced. + +The moon, at its full, lighted up the Clos-Marie. When it was at its +zenith, the trees, under the white rays which fell straight upon them +in perpendicular lines, cast no more shadows, but were like running +fountains of silent brightness. The whole garden was bathed and filled +with a luminous wave as limpid as crystal, and the brilliancy of it +was so penetrating that everything was clearly seen, even to the fine +cutting of the willow-leaves. The slightest possible trembling of air +seemed to wrinkle this lake of rays, sleeping in the universal peace +among the grand elm-trees of the neighbouring garden and the gigantic +brow of the Cathedral. + +Two more evenings had passed like this, when, on the third night, as +Angelique was leaning on her elbows and looking out, her heart seemed to +receive a sudden shock. There, in the clear light, she saw him standing +before her and looking at her. His shadow, like that of the trees, had +disappeared under his feet, and he alone was there, distinctly seen. At +this distance she saw--as if it were full day--that he was tall, slight, +a blonde, and apparently about twenty years of age. He resembled either +a Saint George or a superb picture of Christ, with his curly hair, his +thin beard, his straight nose, rather large, and his proudly-smiling +black eyes. And she recognised him perfectly; never had she seen another +like him; it was he, her hero, and he was exactly as she expected to +find him. The wonder was at last accomplished; the slow creation of the +invisible had perfected itself in this living apparition, and he came +out from the unknown, from the movement of things, from murmuring +voices, from the action of the night, from all that had enveloped her, +until she almost fainted into unconsciousness. She also saw him as if he +were lifted above the earth, so supernatural appeared to be his coming, +whilst the miraculous seemed to surround him on every side as it floated +over the mysterious moon-lake. He had as his escort the entire people of +the Legend--the saints whose staffs blossomed, the virgins whose wounds +shed milk--and the stars seemed to pale before this white group of +perfection. + +Angelique continued to look at him. He raised his arms, and held them +out, wide open. She was not at all afraid, but smiled sweetly. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +It was a great affair for the whole household when, every three months, +Hubertine prepared the "lye" for the wash. A woman was hired to aid +them, the Mother Gabet, as she was called, and for four days all +embroidery was laid aside, while Angelique took her part in the unusual +work, making of it a perfect amusement, as she soaped and rinsed the +clothes in the clean water of the Chevrotte. The linen when taken from +the ashes was wheeled to the Clos-Marie, through the little gate of +communication in the garden. There the days were spent in the open air +and the sunshine. + +"I will do the washing this time, mother, for it is the greatest of +delights to me." + +And gaily laughing, with her sleeves drawn up above her elbows, +flourishing the beetle, Angelique struck the clothes most heartily +in the pleasure of such healthy exercise. It was hard work, but she +thoroughly enjoyed it, and only stopped occasionally to say a few words +or to show her shiny face covered with foam. + +"Look, mother! This makes my arms strong. It does me a world of good." + +The Chevrotte crossed the field diagonally, at first drowsily, then its +stream became very rapid as it was thrown in great bubbles over a pebbly +descent. It came from the garden of the Bishop, through a species +of floodgate left at the foot of the wall, and at the other end it +disappeared under an arched vault at the corner of the Hotel Voincourt, +where it was swallowed up in the earth, to reappear two hundred yards +farther on, as it passed along the whole length of the Rue Basse to the +Ligneul, into which it emptied itself. Therefore it was very necessary +to watch the linen constantly, for, run as fast as possible, every piece +that was once let go was almost inevitably lost. + +"Mother, wait, wait a little! I will put this heavy stone on the +napkins. We shall then see if the river can carry them away. The little +thief!" + +She placed the stone firmly, then returned to draw another from the old, +tumble-down mill, enchanted to move about and to fatigue herself; and, +although she severely bruised her finger, she merely moistened it a +little, saying, "Oh! that is nothing." + +During the day the poor people who sheltered themselves in the ruins +went out to ask for charity from the passers-by on the highways. So the +Clos was quite deserted. It was a delicious, fresh solitude, with its +clusters of pale-green willows, its high poplar-trees, and especially +its verdure, its overflowing of deep-rooted wild herbs and grasses, so +high that they came up to one's shoulders. A quivering silence came from +the two neighbouring parks, whose great trees barred the horizon. +After three o'clock in the afternoon the shadow of the Cathedral +was lengthened out with a calm sweetness and a perfume of evaporated +incense. + +Angelique continued to beat the linen harder still, with all the force +of her well-shaped white arms. + +"Oh, mother dear! You can have no idea how hungry I shall be this +evening! . . . Ah! you know that you have promised to give me a good +strawberry-cake." + +On the day of the rinsing, Angelique was quite alone. The _mere_ Gabet, +suffering from a sudden, severe attack of sciatica, had not been able to +come as usual, and Hubertine was kept at home by other household cares. + +Kneeling in her little box half filled with straw, the young girl took +the pieces one by one, shook them for a long time in the swiftly-rolling +stream, until the water was no longer dimmed, but had become as clear +as crystal. She did not hurry at all, for since the morning she had been +tormented by a great curiosity, having seen, to her astonishment, an old +workman in a white blouse, who was putting up a light scaffolding before +the window of the Chapel Hautecoeur. Could it be that they were about to +repair the stained-glass panes? There was, it must be confessed, great +need of doing so. Several pieces were wanting in the figure of Saint +George, and in other places, where in the course of centuries panes that +had been broken had been replaced by ordinary glass. Still, all this was +irritating to her. She was so accustomed to the gaps of the saint who +was piercing the dragon with his sword, and of the royal princess as she +led the conquered beast along with her scarf, that she already mourned +as if one had the intention of mutilating them. It was sacrilege to +think of changing such old, venerable things. But when she returned +to the field after her lunch, all her angry feelings passed away +immediately; for a second workman was upon the staging, a young man this +time, who also wore a white blouse. And she recognised him! It was he! +Her hero! + +Gaily, without any embarrassment, Angelique resumed her place on her +knees on the straw of her box. Then, with her wrists bare, she put her +hands in the deep, clear water, and recommenced shaking the linen back +and forth. + +Yes, it was he--tall, slight, a blonde, with his fine beard and his hair +curled like that of a god, his complexion as fresh as when she had first +seen him under the white shadow of the moonlight. Since it was he, there +was nothing to be feared for the window; were he to touch it, he would +only embellish it. And it was no disappointment to her whatever to +find him in this blouse, a workman like herself, a painter on glass, no +doubt. On the contrary, this fact made her smile, so absolutely certain +was she of the eventual fulfillment of her dream of royal fortune. Now, +it was simply an appearance, a beginning. What good would it do her +to know who he was, from whence he came, or whither he was going? Some +morning he would prove to be that which she expected him to be. A shower +of gold would stream from the roof of the Cathedral, a triumphal march +would break forth in the distant rumblings of the organ, and all would +come true. She did not stay to ask herself how he could always be there, +day and night. Yet it was evident either that he must live in one of the +neighbouring houses, or he must pass by the lane des Guerdaches, which +ran by the side of the Bishop's park to the Rue Magloire. + +Then a charming hour passed by. She bent forward, she rinsed her linen, +her face almost touching the fresh water; but each time she took a +different piece she raised her head, and cast towards the church a look, +in which from the agitation of her heart, was a little good-natured +malice. And he, upon the scaffolding, with an air of being closely +occupied in examining the state of the window, turned towards her, +glancing at her sideways, and evidently much disturbed whenever she +surprised him doing so. It was astonishing how quickly he blushed, how +dark red his face became. At the slightest emotion, whether of anger or +interest, all the blood in his veins seemed to mount to his face. He had +flashing eyes, which showed will; yet he was so diffident, that, when he +knew he was being criticised, he was embarrassed as a little child, did +not seem to know what to do with his hands, and stammered out his orders +to the old man who accompanied him. + +As for Angelique, that which delighted her most, as she refreshed her +arms in this turbulent water, was to picture him innocent like herself, +ignorant of the world, and with an equally intense desire to have a +taste of life. There was no need of his telling to others who he was, +for had not invisible messengers and unseen lips made known to her that +he was to be her own? She looked once more, just as he was turning his +head; and so the minutes passed, and it was delicious. + +Suddenly she saw that he jumped from the staging, then that he walked +backwards quite a distance through the grass, as if to take a certain +position from which he could examine the window more easily. But she +could not help smiling, so evident was it that he simply wished +to approach her. He had made a firm decision, like a man who risks +everything, and now it was touching as well as comical to see that he +remained standing a few steps from her, his back towards her, not daring +to move, fearing that he had been too hasty in coming as far as he +had done. For a moment she thought he would go back again to the +chapel-window as he had come from it, without paying any attention to +her. However, becoming desperate, at last he turned, and as at that +moment she was glancing in his direction, their eyes met, and they +remained gazing fixedly at each other. They were both deeply confused; +they lost their self-possession, and might never have been able to +regain it, had not a dramatic incident aroused them. + +"Oh dear! Oh dear!" exclaimed the young girl, in distress. + +In her excitement, a dressing-sacque, which she had been rinsing +unconsciously, had just escaped her, and the stream was fast bearing it +away. Yet another minute and it would disappear round the corner of the +wall of the Voincourt park, under the arched vault through which the +Chevrotte passed. + +There were several seconds of anxious waiting. He saw at once what had +happened, and rushed forward. But the current, leaping over the pebbles, +carried this sacque, which seemed possessed, as it went along, much more +rapidly than he. He stooped, thinking he had caught it, but took up only +a handful of soapy foam. Twice he failed. The third time he almost fell. +Then, quite vexed, with a brave look as if doing something at the peril +of his life, he went into the water, and seized the garment just as it +was about being drawn under the ground. + +Angelique, who until now had followed the rescue anxiously, quite upset, +as if threatened by a great misfortune, was so relieved that she had an +intense desire to laugh. This feeling was partly nervous, it is true, +but not entirely so. For was not this the adventure of which she had so +often dreamed? This meeting on the border of a lake; the terrible danger +from which she was to be saved by a young man, more beautiful than the +day? Saint George, the tribune, the warrior! These were simply united in +one, and he was this painter of stained glass, this young workman in +his white blouse! When she saw him coming back, his feet wet through +and through, as he held the dripping camisole awkwardly in his hand, +realising the ridiculous side of the energy he had employed in saving it +from the waves, she was obliged to bite her tongue to check the outburst +of gaiety which seemed almost to choke her. + +He forgot himself as he looked at her. She was like a most adorable +child in this restrained mirth with which all her youth seemed to +vibrate. Splashed with water, her arms almost chilled by the stream, +she seemed to send forth from herself the purity and clearness of +these living springs which rushed from the mossy woods. She was an +impersonation of health, joy, and freshness, in the full sunlight. One +could easily fancy that she might be a careful housekeeper and a queen +withal as she was there, in her working dress, with her slender waist, +her regal neck, her oval face, such as one reads of in fairy-tales. And +he did not know how to give her back the linen, he found her exquisite, +so perfect a representation of the beauty of the art he loved. It +enraged him, in spite of himself, that he should have the air of an +idiot, as he plainly saw the effort she made not to laugh. But he was +forced to do something, so at last he gave her back the sacque. + +Then Angelique realised that if she were to open her mouth and try to +thank him, she would shout. Poor fellow! She sympathised with him and +pitied him. But it was irresistible; she was happy, and needed to give +expression to it; she must yield to the gaiety with which her heart +overflowed. It was such lovely weather, and all life was so beautiful! + +At last she thought she might speak, wishing simply to say: "Thank you, +Monsieur." + +But the wish to laugh had returned, and made her stammer, interrupting +her at each word. It was a loud, cheery laugh, a sonorous outpouring of +pearly notes, which sang sweetly to the crystalline accompaniment of the +Chevrotte. + +The young man was so disconcerted that he could find nothing to say. His +usually pale face had become very red, the timid, childlike expression +of his eyes had changed into a fiery one, like that of an eagle, and he +moved away quickly. He disappeared with the old workman, and even then +she continued to laugh as she bent over the water, again splashing +herself as she shook the clothes hither and thither, rejoicing in the +brightness of the happy day. + +On the morrow he came an hour earlier. But at five o'clock in the +morning the linen, which had been dripping all night, was spread out on +the grass. There was a brisk wind, which was excellent for drying. But +in order that the different articles need not be blown away, they were +kept in place by putting little pebbles on their four corners. The whole +wash was there, looking of a dazzling whiteness among the green herbage, +having a strong odour of plants about it, and making the meadow as if it +had suddenly blossomed out into a snowy covering of daisies. + +When Angelique came to look at it after breakfast, she was distressed, +for so strong had become the gusts of wind that all threatened to be +carried away. Already a sheet had started, and several napkins had gone +to fasten themselves to the branches of a willow. She fortunately caught +them, but then the handkerchiefs began to fly. There was no one to help +her; she was so frightened that she lost all her presence of mind. When +she tried to spread out the sheet again, she had a regular battle, +for she was quite lost in it, as it covered her with a great crackling +sound. + +Through all the noise of the wind she heard a voice saying, +"Mademoiselle, do you wish me to help you?" + +It was he, and immediately she cried to him, with no other thought than +her pre-occupation as a good housewife: + +"Of course I wish it. Come and help me, then. Take the end over there, +nearest to you. Hold it firm!" + +The sheet, which they stretched out with their strong arms, flapped +backwards and forwards like a sail. At last they succeeded in putting it +on the ground, and then placed upon it much heavier stones than before. +And now that, quite conquered, it sank quietly down, neither of them +thought of leaving their places, but remained on their knees at the +opposite corners, separated by this great piece of pure white linen. + +She smiled, but this time without malice. It was a silent message of +thanks. He became by degrees a little bolder. + +"My name is Felicien." + +"And mine is Angelique." + +"I am a painter on glass, and have been charged to repair the +stained-glass window of the chapel here." + +"I live over there with my father and mother, and I am an embroiderer of +church vestments." + +The wind, which continued to be strong under the clear blue sky, carried +away their words, lashed them with its purifying breath in the midst of +the warm sunshine in which they were bathed. + +They spoke of things which they already knew, as if simply for the +pleasure of talking. + +"Is the window, then, to be replaced?" + +"No! oh no! it will be so well repaired that the new part cannot be +distinguished from the old. I love it quite as much as you do." + +"Oh! it is indeed true that I love it! I have already embroidered a +Saint George, but it was not so beautiful as this one." + +"Oh, not so beautiful! How can you say that? I have seen it, if it is +the Saint George on the chasuble which the Abbot Cornille wore last +Sunday. It is a marvellous thing." + +She blushed with pleasure, but quickly turned the conversation, as she +exclaimed: + +"Hurry and put another stone on the left corner of the sheet, or the +wind will carry it away from us again." + +He made all possible haste, weighed down the linen, which had been in +great commotion, like the wings of a great wounded bird trying its best +to fly away. Finding that this time it would probably keep its place, +the two young people rose up, and now Angelique went through the narrow, +green paths between the pieces of linen, glancing at each one, while +he followed her with an equally busy look, as if preoccupied by the +possible loss of a dish-towel or an apron. All this seemed quite natural +to them both. So she continued to chatter away freely and artlessly, as +she told of her daily life and explained her tastes. + +"For my part, I always wish that everything should be in its place. In +the morning I am always awakened at the same hour by the striking of +the cuckoo-clock in the workroom; and whether it is scarcely daylight or +not, I dress myself as quickly as possible; my shoes and stockings +are here, my soap and all articles of toilette there--a true mania for +order. Yet you may well believe that I was not born so! Oh no! On the +contrary, I was the most careless person possible. Mother was obliged to +repeat to me the same words over and over again, that I might not leave +my things in every corner of the house, for I found it easier to scatter +them about. And now, when I am at work from morning to evening, I can +never do anything right if my chair is not in the same place, directly +opposite the light, Fortunately, I am neither right nor left handed, but +can use both hands equally well at embroidering, which is a great help +to me, for it is not everyone who can do that. Then, I adore flowers, +but I cannot keep a bouquet near me without having a terrible headache. +Violets alone I can bear, and that is surprising. But their odour seems +to calm me, and at the least indisposition I have only need to smell +them and I am at once cured." + +He was enraptured while listening to her prattle. He revelled in +the beautiful ring of her voice, which had an extremely penetrating, +prolonged charm; and he must have been peculiarly sensitive to this +human music, for the caressing inflection on certain words moistened his +eyelids. + +Suddenly returning to her household cares she exclaimed: + +"Oh, now the shirts will soon be dry!" + +Then, in the unconscious and simple need of making herself known, she +continued her confidences: + +"For colouring, the white is always beautiful, is it not? I tire at +times of blue, of red, and of all other shades; but white is a constant +joy, of which I am never weary. There is nothing in it to trouble you; +on the contrary, you would like to lose yourself in it. We had a white +cat, with yellow spots, which I painted white. It did very well for a +while, but it did not last long. Listen a minute. Mother does not know +it, but I keep all the waste bits of white silk, and have a drawer full +of them, for just nothing except the pleasure of looking at them, and +smoothing them over from time to time. And I have another secret, but +this is a very serious one! When I wake up, there is every morning near +my bed a great, white object, which gently flies away." + +He did not smile, but appeared firmly to believe her. Was not all she +said, in her simple way, quite natural? A queen in the magnificence of +her courtly surroundings could not have conquered him so quickly. She +had, in the midst of this white linen on the green grass, a charming, +grand air, happy and supreme, which touched him to the heart, with an +ever-increasing power. He was completely subdued. She was everything to +him from this moment. He would follow her to the last day of his life, +in the worship of her light feet, her delicate hands, of her whole +being, adorable and perfect as a dream. She continued to walk before +him, with a short quick step, and he followed her closely, suffocated by +a thought of the happiness he scarcely dared hope might come to him. + +But another sudden gust of wind came up, and there was a perfect flight +into the distance of cambric collars and cuffs, of neckerchiefs and +chemisettes of muslin, which, as they disappeared, seemed like a flock +of white birds knocked about by the tempest. + +Angelique began to run. + +"Oh dear! What shall I do? You will have to come again and help me. Oh +dear!" + +They both rushed forward. She caught a kerchief on the borders of the +Chevrotte. He had already saved two chemisettes which he found in the +midst of some high thistles. One by one the cuffs and the collars were +retaken. But in the course of their running at full speed, the flying +folds of her skirt had at several different times brushed against +him, and each time his face became suddenly red, and his heart beat +violently. In his turn, he touched her face accidentally, as she jumped +to recover the last fichu, which he had carelessly let go of. She was +startled and stood quietly, but breathing more quickly. She joked +no longer; her laugh sounded less clear, and she was not tempted to +ridicule this great awkward, but most attractive fellow. The feminine +nature so recently awakened in her softened her almost to tears, and +with the feeling of inexplicable tenderness, which overpowered her, was +mingled a half-fear. + +What was the matter with her that she was less gay, and that she was so +overcome by this delicious pang? When he held out the kerchief to her, +their hands, by chance, touched for a moment. They trembled, as they +looked at each other inquiringly. Then she drew back quickly, and +for several seconds seemed not to know what she should do under the +extraordinary circumstances which had just occurred. At last she +started. Gathering up all the smaller articles of linen in her arms, and +leaving the rest, she turned towards her home. + +Felicien then wished to speak . . . "Oh, I beg your pardon. . . . I pray +you to----" + +But the wind, which had greatly increased, cut off his words. In despair +he looked at her as she flew along, as if carried away by the blast. She +ran and ran, in and out, among the white sheets and tablecloths, under +the oblique, pale golden rays of the sun. Already the shadow of the +Cathedral seemed to envelop her, and she was on the point of entering +her own garden by the little gate which separated it from the Clos, +without having once glanced behind her. But on the threshold she turned +quickly, as if seized with a kind impulse, not wishing that he should +think she was angry, and confused, but smiling, she called out: + +"Thank you. Thank you very much." + +Did she wish to say that she was grateful to him for having helped her +in recovering the linen? Or was it for something else? She disappeared, +and the gate was shut after her. + +And he remained alone in the middle of the field, under the great +regular gusts, which continued to rage, although the sky was still clear +and pure. The elms in the Bishop's garden rustled with a long, billowy +sound, and a loud voice seemed to clamour through the terraces and the +flying buttresses of the Cathedral. But he heard only the light flapping +of a little morning cap, tied to a branch of a lilac bush, as if it were +a bouquet, and which belonged to her. + +From that date, each time that Angelique opened her window she saw +Felicien over there in the Clos-Marie. He passed days in the field, +having the chapel window as an excuse for doing so, on which, however, +the work did not advance the least in the world. For hours he would +forget himself behind a cluster of bushes, where, stretched out on +the grass, he watched through the leaves. And it was the greatest of +pleasures to smile at each other every morning and evening. She was +so happy that she asked for nothing more. There would not be another +general washing for three months, so, until then, the little garden-gate +would seldom be open. But three months would pass very quickly, and +if they could see each other daily, was not that bliss enough? What, +indeed, could be more charming than to live in this way, thinking during +the day of the evening look, and during the night of the glance of the +early morrow? She existed only in the hope of that desired moment; its +joy filled her life. Moreover, what good would there be in approaching +each other and in talking together? Were they not constantly becoming +better acquainted without meeting? Although at a distance, they +understood each other perfectly; each penetrated into the other's +innermost thoughts with the closest intimacy. At last, they became so +filled one with the other that they could not close their eyes without +seeing before them, with an astonishing clearness of detail, the image +of their new friend; so, in reality, they were never separated. + +It was a constant surprise to Angelique that she had unbosomed herself +at once to Felicien. At their first meeting she had confided in him, +had told him everything about her habits, her tastes, and the deepest +secrets of her heart. He, more silent, was called Felicien, and that was +all she knew. Perhaps it was quite right that it should be so; the woman +giving everything, and the man holding himself back as a stranger. She +had no premature curiosity. She continued to smile at the thought of +things which would certainly be realised. So for her, that of which she +was ignorant counted for nothing. The only important fact in her mind +was the intimacy between them, which united them, little by little, +apart from the world. She knew nothing about him, yet she was so well +acquainted with his nature that she could read his thoughts in a simple +look or smile. He, her hero, had come as she always said he would. She +had at once recognised him, and they loved each other. + +So they enjoyed most thoroughly this true possession from a distance. +They were certainly encouraged by the new discoveries they made. She had +long, slender hands, roughened a little at the ends of the fingers by +her constant use of the needle, but he adored them. She noticed that +his feet were small, and was proud of the fact. Everything about him +flattered her; she was grateful to him for being so handsome; and she +was overcome with joy the evening that she found his beard to be of a +lighter shade than his hair, which fact gave a greater softness to his +smile. He went away transported when, one morning, as she leaned over +the balcony, he saw a little red spot on her pretty neck. Their hearts +being thus laid open, new treasures were daily found. Certainly the +proud and frank manner in which she opened her window showed that, even +in her ignorance as a little embroiderer, she had the royal bearing of +a princess. In the same way she knew that he was good, from seeing +how lightly he walked over the herbs and the grass. Around them was a +radiance of virtues and graces from the first hour of their meeting. +Each interview had its special charm. It seemed to them as if their +felicity in seeing each other could never be exhausted. + +Nevertheless, Felicien soon showed certain signs of impatience, and he +no longer remained for hours concealed behind a bush in the immobility +of an absolute happiness. As soon as Angelique appeared at her window, +he was restless, and tried to approach her as he glided from willow to +willow. At length she was a little disturbed, fearing that someone might +see him. One day there was almost a quarrel, for he came even to the +wall of the house, so she was obliged to leave the balcony. It was a +great shock to him that she should be offended, and he showed in the +expression of his face so mute a prayer of submission that the next day +she pardoned him, and opened her window at the usual hour. + +But although expectation was delightful, it was not sufficient for him, +and he began again. Now he seemed to be everywhere at once: he filled +the Clos-Marie with his restlessness; he came out from behind every +tree; he appeared above every bunch of brambles. Like the wood-pigeons +of the great elms in the Bishop's garden, he seemed to have his +habitation between two branches in the environs. The Chevrotte was an +excuse for his passing entire days there, on its willowy banks, bending +over the stream, in which he seemed to be watching the floating of the +clouds. + +One day she saw that he had climbed up on the ruins of the old mill, +and was standing on the framework of a shed, looking happy to have thus +approached her a little, in his regret at not being able to fly even so +far as her shoulder. + +Another day she stifled a slight scream as she saw him far above her, +leaning on an ornamented balustrade of the Cathedral, on the roof of the +chapels of the choir, which formed a terrace. In what way could he have +reached this gallery, the door of which was always fastened, and whose +key no one had a right to touch but the beadle? Then again, a little +later on, how was it that she should find him up in the air among the +flying buttresses of the nave and the pinnacles of the piers? From these +heights he could look into every part of her chamber, as the swallows +who, flying from point to point among the spires, saw everything that +was therein, without her having the idea of hiding herself from them. +But a human eye was different, and from that day she shut herself up +more, and an ever-increasing trouble came to her at the thought that her +privacy was being intruded upon, and that she was no longer alone in +the atmosphere of adoration that surrounded her. If she were really not +impatient, why was it that her heart beat so strongly, like the bell of +the clock-tower on great festivals? + +Three days passed without Angelique showing herself, so alarmed was she +by the increasing boldness of Felicien. She vowed in her mind that she +would never see him again, and wound herself up to such a degree of +resentment, that she thought she hated him. But he had given her his +feverishness. She could not keep still, and the slightest pretext was +enough for an excuse to leave the chasuble upon which she was at work. + +So, having heard that _mere_ Gabet was ill in bed, in the most profound +poverty, she went to see her every morning. Her room was on the Rue des +Orfevres, only three doors away from the Huberts. She would take her +tea, sugar, and soup, then, when necessary, go to buy her medicine at +the druggist's on the Grand Rue. One day, as she returned with her hands +full of the little phials, she started at seeing Felicien at the bedside +of the old sick woman. He turned very red, and slipped away awkwardly, +after leaving a charitable offering. The next day he came in as she was +leaving, and she gave him her place, very much displeased. Did he really +intend to prevent her from visiting the poor? + +In fact, she had been taken with one of her fits of charity, which made +her give all she owned that she might overwhelm those who had nothing. +At the idea of suffering, her whole soul melted into a pitiful +fraternity. She went often to the _pere_ Mascart's, a blind paralytic +on the Rue Basse, whom she was obliged to feed herself the broth she +carried him; then to the Chouteaux, a man and his wife, each one over +ninety years of age, who lived in a little hut on the Rue Magloire, +which she had furnished for them with articles taken from the attic of +her parents. Then there were others and others still whom she saw among +the wretched populace of the quarter, and whom she helped to support +from things that were about her, happy in being able to surprise them +and to see them brighten up for a little while. But now, strange to say, +wherever she went she encountered Felicien! Never before had she seen +so much of him; she who had avoided going to her window for fear that he +might be near. Her trouble increased, and at last she was very angry. + +But the worst of all in this matter was that Angelique soon despaired of +her charity. This young man spoilt all her pleasure of giving. In other +days he might perhaps have been equally generous, but it was not among +the same people, not her own particular poor, of that she was sure. And +he must have watched her and followed her very closely to know them all +and to take them so regularly one after the other. + +Now, go when she might with a little basket of provisions to the +Chouteaux, there was always money on the table. One day, when she +went to _pere_ Mascart, who was constantly complaining that he had no +tobacco, she found him very rich, with a shining new louis d'or on his +table. Strangest of all, once when visiting _mere_ Gabet, the latter +gave her a hundred franc note to change, and with it she was enabled to +buy some high-priced medicines, of which the poor woman had long been +in need, but which she never hoped to obtain, for where could she find +money to pay for them? + +Angelique herself could not distribute much money, as she had none. It +was heart-breaking to her to realise her powerlessness, when he could so +easily empty his purse. She was, of course, happy that such a windfall +had come to the poor, but she felt as if she were greatly diminished +in her former self-estimation. She no longer had the same happiness in +giving, but was disturbed and sad that she had so little to distribute, +while he had so much. + +The young man, not understanding her feelings, thinking to conquer her +esteem by an increase of gifts, redoubled his charity, and thus daily +made hers seem less. + +Was not it exasperating to run against this fellow everywhere; to see +him give an ox wherever she offered an egg? In addition to all this, she +was obliged to hear his praises sung by all the needy whom he visited: +"a young man so good, so kind, and so well brought up." She was a mere +nothing now. They talked only of him, spreading out his gifts as if to +shame hers. Notwithstanding her firm determination to forget him, she +could not refrain from questioning them about him. What had he left? +What had he said? He was very handsome, was he not? Tender and diffident +as a woman! Perhaps he might even have spoken of her! Ah, yes indeed! +That was true, for he always talked of her. Then she was very angry; +yes, she certainly hated him, for at last she realised that he weighed +on her breast too heavily. + +But matters could not continue in this way for ever, a change must take +place; and one May evening, at a wondrously beautiful nightfall, it +came. It was at the home of the Lemballeuse, the family who lived in +the ruins of the mill. There were only women there; the old grandmother, +seamed with wrinkles but still active, her daughter, and her +grandchildren. Of the latter, Tiennette, the elder, was a large, +wild-looking girl, twenty years of age, and her two little sisters, Rose +and Jeanne, had already bold, fearless eyes, under their unkempt mops +of red hair. They all begged during the day on the highway and along the +moat, coming back at night, their feet worn out from fatigue in their +old shoes fastened with bits of string. Indeed, that very evening +Tiennette had been obliged to leave hers among the stones, and had +returned wounded and with bleeding ankles. Seated before their door, in +the midst of the high grass of the Clos-Marie, she drew out the thorns +from her flesh, whilst her mother and the two children surrounded her +and uttered lamentations. + +Just then Angelique arrived, hiding under her apron the bread which she +had brought them, as she did once every week. She had entered the field +by the little garden-gate, which she had left open behind her, as she +intended to go back as quickly as possible. But she stopped on seeing +all the family in tears. + +"What is the matter? Why are you in such distress?" + +"Ah, my good lady!" whined the mother Lemballeuse, "do not you see in +what a terrible state this great foolish girl has put herself? To-morrow +she will not be able to walk, so that will be a whole day lost. She must +have some shoes!" + +Rose and Jeanne, with their eyes snapping from under their tangled hair, +redoubled their sobs, as they cried out loudly-- + +"Yes, yes! She must have some shoes! She must have some shoes!" + +Tiennette, half lifting up her thin, dark face, looked round furtively. +Then, fiercely, without a word, she made one of her feet bleed still +more, maddened over a long splinter which she had just drawn out by the +aid of a pin, and which must have pained her intensely. + +Angelique, quite touched by the scene, offered her the gift. + +"See! Here at least is some bread." + +"Oh, bread!" said the mother. "No doubt it is necessary to eat. But +it is not with bread that she will be able to walk again, of that I am +certain! And we were to go to the fair at Bligny, a fair where, every +year, she makes at least two francs. Oh, good heavens! What will become +of us if she cannot go there?" + +Pity and embarrassment rendered Angelique mute. She had exactly five +sous in her pocket. It surely was not with five sous that one could buy +a pair of shoes, even at an auction sale. As it had often done before, +her want of money now paralysed her. And that which exasperated her +still more and made her lose her self-control was that at this moment, +as she looked behind her, she saw Felicien, standing a few feet from her +in the darkening shadow. Without doubt he had heard all that had been +said; perhaps even he had been there for a great while, for he always +appeared to her in this way when least expected without her ever knowing +whence he came or whither he was going. + +She thought to herself, "He will give the shoes." + +Indeed, he had already come forward. The first stars were appearing in +the pale sky. A sweet, gentle quiet seemed to fall down from on high, +soothing to sleep the Clos-Marie, whose willows were lost in the dusk. +The Cathedral itself was only a great black bar in the West. + +"Yes, certainly, now he will offer to give the shoes." + +And at this probability she was really quite discouraged. Was he always, +then, to give everything? Could she never, even once, conquer him? +Never! Her heart beat so rapidly that it pained her. She wished that she +might be very rich, to show him that she, too, could make others happy. + +But the Lemballeuse had seen the good gentleman. The mother had rushed +forward; the two little sisters moaned as they held out their hands for +alms, whilst the elder one, letting go of her wounded ankles, looked at +the new-comer inquiringly with her wild eyes. + +"Listen, my noisy children," said Felicien. Then, addressing the mother, +he continued, "You may go to the Grand Rue, at the corner of the Rue +Basse--" + +Angelique had understood immediately, for the shoemaker had his shop +there. She interrupted him quickly, and was so agitated that she +stammered her words at random. + +"But that is a useless thing to do! What would be the good of it? It is +much more simple--" + +Yet she could not find in her own mind the more simple thing she +desired. What could she do? What could she invent, so to be before him +in giving her charity? Never had it seemed to her possible she could +detest him as she did now. + +"You will say from me, that it is I who have sent you," continued +Felicien. "You will ask--" + +Again she interrupted him. The contest lasted a moment longer. She +repeated in an anxious way: + +"It is, indeed, much more simple; it is much easier--" + +Suddenly she was calm. She seated herself upon a stone, thoughtfully +examined her shoes, took them off, and then drew off her stockings, +saying: + +"Look! This is the best thing to do, after all! Why should you have any +trouble about the matter?" + +"Oh, my good young lady! God will reward you!" exclaimed the mother +Lemballeuse, as she turned over the shoes and found they were not only +excellent and strong, but almost new. "I will cut them a trifle on the +top, to make them a little larger--Tiennette, why do you not thank her, +stupid creature?" + +Tiennette snatched from the hands of Rose and Jeanne the stockings they +were coveting. She did not open her lips; she only gave one long, fixed, +hard look. + +But now Angelique realised that her feet were bare, and that Felicien +saw them. She blushed deeply, and knew not what to do. She dared not +move, for, were she to rise to get up, he would only see them all the +more. Then, frightened, she rose quickly, and without realising what she +was doing, began to run. In the grass her flying feet were very white +and small. The darkness of the evening had increased, and the Clos-Marie +was a lake of shadow between the great trees on one side and the +Cathedral on the other. And on the ground the only visible light came +from those same little feet, white and satiny as the wing of a dove. + +Startled and afraid of the water, Angelique followed the bank of the +Chevrotte, that she might cross it on a plank which served as a bridge. +But Felicien had gone a shorter way through the brambles and brushwood. +Until now he had always been overcome by his timidity, and he had turned +redder than she as he saw her bare feet, pure and chaste as herself. +Now, in the overflow of his ignorant youth, passionately fond of beauty +and desirous for love, he was impatient to cry out and tell her of the +feeling which had entirely taken possession of him since he had first +seen her. But yet, when she brushed by him in her flight, he could only +stammer, with a trembling voice, the acknowledgment so long delayed and +which burnt his lips: + +"I love you." + +She stopped in surprise. For an instant she stood still, and, slightly +trembling, looked at him. Her anger and the hate she thought she had for +him all vanished at once, and melted into a most delicious sentiment +of astonishment. What had he said, what was the word he had just +pronounced, that she should be so overcome by it? She knew that he loved +her; yet when he said so, the sound of it in her ear overwhelmed her +with an inexplicable joy. It resounded so deeply through her whole +being, that her fears came back and were enlarged. She never would dare +reply to him; it was really more than she could bear; she was oppressed. + +He, grown more bold, his heart touched and drawn nearer to hers by their +united deeds of charity, repeated: + +"I love you." + +And she, fearing the lover, began to run. That was surely the only way +to escape such a danger; yet it was also a happiness, it was all so +strange. The Chevrotte was gaily singing, and she plunged into it like a +startled fawn. Among its pebbles her feet still ran on, under the chill +of icy water. The garden-gate was at last reached, it closed, and she +disappeared. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +For two days Angelique was conscience-smitten. As soon as she was alone, +she sobbed as if she had done something wrong. And this question, which +she could not answer, came constantly to her mind: Had she sinned in +listening to this young man? Was she lost, like the dreadful women in +the Legend, who, having been tempted, had yielded to the Devil? Was life +to-day as it was centuries ago? The words, so softly uttered, "I love +you," still resounded with such a tumult in her ears, and she was +confused, yet pleased by them to such a degree, that they must certainly +have come from some terrible power hidden in the depth of the invisible. +But she knew not--in fact, how could she have known anything in the +ignorance and solitude in which she had grown up? Her anguish was +redoubled by this mysterious and inexplicable struggle within her. + +Had she sinned in making the acquaintance of Felicien, and then in +keeping it a secret? She recalled to her mind, one by one, all the +details of her daily experience during the past few weeks; she argued +with her innocent scruples. + +What was sin, in short? Was it simply to meet--to talk--and afterwards +to tell a falsehood to one's parents? But that could not be the extent +of the evil. Then why was she so oppressed? Why, if not guilty, did she +suddenly seem to have become quite another person--as agitated as if +a new soul had been given her? Perhaps it was sin that had made her +so weak and uncomfortable. Her heart was full of vague, undefined +longings--so strange a medley of words, and also of acts, in the future, +that she was frightened by them, without in the least understanding +them. The blood mounted to her face, and exquisitely coloured her +cheeks, as she heard again the sweet, yet appalling words, "I love you"; +and she reasoned no longer, but sobbed again, doubting evident facts, +fearing the commission of a fault in the beyond--in that which had +neither name nor form. + +But that which especially distressed her now was that she had not made a +_confidante_ of Hubertine. Could she only have asked her what she wished +to know, no doubt the latter with a word would have explained the whole +mystery to her. Then it seemed to her as if the mere fact of speaking to +someone of her trouble would have cured her. But the secret had become +too weighty; to reveal it would be more than she could bear, for the +shame would be too great. She became quite artful for the moment, +affected an air of calmness, when in the depths of her soul a tempest +was raging. If asked why she was so pre-occupied, she lifted her +eyes with a look of surprise as she replied that she was thinking of +something. Seated before the working-frame, her hands mechanically +drawing the needle back and forth, very quiet to all outward appearance, +she was, from morning till evening, distracted by one thought. To be +loved! To be loved! And for herself, on her side, was she in love? This +was still an obscure question, to which, in her inexperience, she found +no answer. She repeated it so constantly that at last it made her giddy, +the words lost all their usual meaning, and everything seemed to be in a +whirl, which carried her away. With an effort she recovered herself, and +realised that, with needle in hand, she was still embroidering with her +accustomed application, although mechanically, as if in a half-dream. +Perhaps these strange symptoms were a sign that she was about to have a +severe illness. One evening she had such an attack of shivering when she +went to bed that she thought she would never be able to recover from it. +That idea was at the same time both cruel and sweet. She suffered from +it as if it were too great a joy. Even the next day her heart beat as if +it would break, and her ears were filled with a singing sound, like the +ringing of a distant bell. What could it mean? Was she in love, or was +she about to die? Thinking thus, she smiled sweetly at Hubertine, who, +in the act of waxing her thread, was looking at her anxiously. + +Moreover, Angelique had made a vow that she would never again see +Felicien. She no longer ran the risk of meeting him among the brambles +and wild grasses in the Clos-Marie, and she had even given up her +daily visits to the poor. Her fear was intense lest, were they to find +themselves face to face, something terrible might come to pass. In her +resolution there was mingled, besides a feeling of penitence, a wish to +punish herself for some fault she might unintentionally have committed. +So, in her days of rigid humiliation, she condemned herself not even to +glance once through the window, so sure was she of seeing on the banks +of the Chevrotte the one whom she dreaded. But, after a while, being +sorely tempted, she looked out, and if it chanced that he were not +there, she was sad and low-spirited until the following day. + +One morning, when Hubert was arranging a dalmatic, a ring at the +door-bell obliged him to go downstairs. It must be a customer; no doubt +an order for some article, as Hubertine and Angelique heard the hum of +voices which came through the doorway at the head of the stairs, which +remained open. Then they looked up in great astonishment; for steps +were mounting, and the embroiderer was bringing someone with him to +the workroom, a most unusual occurrence. And the young girl was quite +overcome as she recognised Felicien. He was dressed simply, like a +journeyman artist, whose hands are white. Since she no longer went to +him he had come to her, after days of vain expectation and of anxious +uncertainty, during which he had constantly said to himself that she did +not yet love him, since she remained hidden from him. + +"Look, my dear child, here is something which will be of particular +interest to you," explained Hubert. "Monsieur wishes to give orders for +an exceptional piece of work. And, upon my word, that we might talk of +it at our ease, I preferred that he should come up here at once. This is +my daughter, sir, to whom you must show your drawing." + +Neither he nor Hubertine had the slightest suspicion that this was not +the first time the young people had met. They approached them only +from a sentiment of curiosity to see. But Felicien was, like Angelique, +almost stifled with emotion and timidity. As he unrolled the design, +his hands trembled, and he was obliged to speak very slowly to hide the +change in his voice. + +"It is to be a mitre for Monseigneur the Bishop. Yes, certain ladies in +the city who wished to make him this present charged me with the drawing +of the different parts, as well as with the superintendence of its +execution. I am a painter of stained glass, but I also occupy myself +a great deal with ancient art. You will see that I have simply +reconstituted a Gothic mitre." + +Angelique bent over the great sheet of parchment which he had spread +before her, and started slightly as she exclaimed: + +"Oh! it is Saint Agnes." + +It was indeed the youthful martyr of but thirteen years of age; the +naked virgin clothed with her hair, that had grown so long only her +little hands and feet were seen from under it, just as she was upon the +pillar at one of the doors of the cathedral; particularly, however, as +one found her in the interior of the church, in an old wooden statue +that formerly was painted, but was to-day a light fawn colour, all +gilded by age. She occupied the entire front of the mitre, half +floating, as she was carried towards heaven borne by the angels; +which below her, stretched out into the distance, was a fine delicate +landscape. The other sides and the lappets were enriched with +lance-shaped ornaments of an exquisite style. + +"These ladies," continued Felicien, "wish to make the present on the +occasion of the Procession of the Miracle, and naturally I thought it my +duty to choose Saint Agnes." + +"The idea was a most excellent one," interposed Hubert. + +And Hubertine added, in her turn: + +"Monseigneur will be deeply gratified." + +The so-called Procession of the Miracle, which takes place each year on +July 28, dates from the time of Jean V d'Hautecoeur, who instituted it +as a thanksgiving to God for the miraculous power He had given to him +and to his race to save Beaumont from the plague. According to the +legend, the Hautecoeurs are indebted for this remarkable gift to the +intervention of Saint Agnes, of whom they were the greatest admirers; +and since the most ancient time, it has been the custom on the +anniversary of her fete to take down the old statue of the saint and +carry it slowly in a solemn procession through the streets of the town, +in the pious belief that she still continues to disperse and drive away +all evils. + +"Ah," at last murmured Angelique, her eyes on the design, "the +Procession of the Miracle. But that will come in a few days, and we +shall not have time enough to finish it." + +The Huberts shook their heads. In truth, so delicate a piece of work +required the most minute care and attention. Yet Hubertine turned +towards her daughter as she said: + +"I could help you, my dear. I might attend to the ornaments, and then +you will only have the figure to do." + +Angelique continued to closely examine the figure of the saint, and was +deeply troubled. She said to herself, "No, no." She refused; she would +not give herself the pleasure of accepting. It would be inexcusable on +her part thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was evident that +Felicien was keeping something back. She was perfectly sure that he was +not poor, and that he wore a workman's dress simply as a disguise; and +this affected simplicity, all this history, told only that he might +approach her, put her on her guard, amused and happy though she was, +in reality, transfiguring him, seeing in him the royal prince that he +should be; so thoroughly did she live in the absolute certainty of the +entire realisation of her dream, sooner or later. + +"No," she repeated in a half-whisper, "we should not have the needed +time." + +And without lifting her eyes she continued, as if speaking to herself: + +"For the saint, we could use neither the close embroidery nor the lace +openwork. It would not be worthy of her. It should be an embroidery in +gold, shaded by silk." + +"Exactly," said Felicien. "That is what I had already thought of, for +I knew that Mademoiselle had re-found the secret of making it. There is +still quite a pretty little fragment of it at the sacristy." + +Hubert was quite excited. + +"Yes, yes! it was made in the fifteenth century, and the work was done +by one of my far-off ancestresses. . . . Shaded gold! Ah, Monsieur, +there was never anything equal to that in the whole world. But, +unfortunately, it took too much time, it cost altogether too dear, and, +in addition, only a real artist ever succeeded in it. Think of it; it +is more than two hundred years since anyone has ever attempted such +embroidery. And if my daughter refuses, you will be obliged to give it +up entirely, for she is the only person who is qualified to undertake +it. I do not know of anyone else who has the delicacy of fingers and the +clearness of eye necessary for it." + +Hubertine, who, since they had spoken of the style of the work, realised +what a great undertaking it was, said, in a quiet, decided tone: + +"It would be utterly impossible to do it in a fortnight. It would need +the patience and skill of a fairy to accomplish it." + +But Angelique, who had not ceased studying all the features of the +beautiful martyr, had ended by making a discovery which delighted +her beyond expression. Agnes resembled her. In designing from the old +statue, Felicien certainly thought of her, and this idea--that she +was in his mind, always present with him, that he saw her +everywhere--softened her resolution to avoid him. At last she looked up; +she noticed how eager he was, and his eyes glistened with so earnest +a supplication that she was conquered. Still, with the intuitive +half-malice, the love of tormenting, this natural science which comes to +all young girls, even when they are entirely ignorant of life, she did +not wish to have the appearance of yielding too readily. + +"It is impossible," she repeated. "I could not do it for anyone." + +Felicien was in despair. He was sure he understood the hidden meaning +in her words. It was he whom she had refused, as well as the work. As he +was about to go out of the room, he said to Hubert: + +"As for the pay, you could have asked any price you wished. These ladies +gave me leave to offer as much as three thousand francs." + +The household of the Huberts was in no way a selfish one; yet so great +a sum startled each member of it. The husband and wife looked at each +other inquiringly. Was it not a pity to lose so advantageous an offer? + +"Three thousand francs," repeated Angelique, with her gentle voice; "did +you say three thousand francs, Monsieur?" + +And she, to whom money was nothing, since she had never known its value, +kept back a smile, a mocking smile, which scarcely drew the corners of +her mouth, rejoicing that she need not seem to yield to the pleasure of +seeing him, and glad to give him a false opinion of herself. + +"Oh, Monsieur, if you can give three thousand francs for it, then I +accept. I would not do it for everyone, but from the moment that one is +willing to pay so well, why, that is different. If it is necessary, I +can work on it at night, as well as during the day." + +Hubert and Hubertine then objected, wishing to refuse in their turn, for +fear the fatigue might be too great for her. + +"No," she replied. "It is never wise to send away money that is brought +to you. You can depend upon me, Monsieur. Your mitre will be ready the +evening before the procession." + +Felicien left the design and bade them good-day, for he was greatly +disappointed, and he had no longer the courage to give any new +explanations in regard to the work, as an excuse for stopping longer. +What would he gain by doing so? It was certainly true that she did not +like him, for she had pretended not to recognise him, and had treated +him as she would any ordinary customer, whose money alone is good to +take. At first he was angry, as he accused her of being mean-spirited +and grasping. So much the better! It was ended between them, this +unspoken romance, and he would never think of her again. Then, as +he always did think of her, he at last excused her, for was she not +dependent upon her work to live, and ought she not to gain her bread? + +Two days later he was very unhappy, and he began to wander around the +house, distressed that he could not see her. She no longer went out to +walk. She did not even go to the balcony, or to the window, as before. +He was forced to acknowledge that if she cared not for him, if in +reality she was mercenary, in spite of all, his love for her increased +daily, as one loves when only twenty years of age, without reasoning, +following merely the drawing of one's heart, simply for the joy and the +grief of loving. + +One morning he caught a glimpse of her for a moment, and realised that +he could not give her up. Now she was his chosen one and no other. +Whatever she might be, bad or good, ugly or pretty, poor or rich, he +would give up his life rather than not be able to claim her. + +The third day his sufferings were so great that, notwithstanding all his +wise resolves, he returned to the house of the embroiderers. + +After having rung the bell, he was received as before, downstairs by +Hubert, who, on account of the want of clearness in his explanations in +regard to his visit, concluded the best thing to be done was to allow +him to go upstairs again. + +"My daughter, Monsieur, wishes to speak to you on certain points of the +work that I do not quite understand." + +Then Felicien stammered, "If it would not disturb Mademoiselle too +much, I would like to see how far--These ladies advised me to personally +superintend the work--that is, if by doing so I should not be in +anyone's way." + +Angelique's heart beat violently when she saw him come in. She almost +choked, but, making a great effort, she controlled herself. The +blood did not even mount her cheeks, and with an appearance of calm +indifference, she replied: + +"Oh, nothing ever disturbs me, Monsieur. I can work equally well before +anyone. As the design is yours, it is quite natural that you should wish +to follow the execution of it." + +Quite discountenanced by this reception, Felicien would not have dared +to have taken a seat, had not Hubertine welcomed him cordially, as +she smiled in her sweet, quiet way at this excellent customer. Almost +immediately she resumed her work, bending over the frame where she was +embroidering on the sides of the mitre the Gothic ornaments in guipure, +or open lacework. + +On his side, Hubert had just taken down from the wall a banner which was +finished, had been stiffened, and for two days past had been hung up to +dry, and which now he wished to relax. No one spoke; the three workers +kept at their tasks as if no other person had been in the room with +them. + +In the midst of this charming quiet, the young man little by little grew +calmer. When the clock struck three, the shadow of the Cathedral was +already very long, and a delicate half-light entered by the window, +which was wide open. It was almost like the twilight hour, which +commenced early in the afternoon for this little house, so fresh and +green from all the verdure that was about it, as it stood by the side of +the colossal church. A slight sound of steps was heard on the pavement +outside; it was a school of young girls being taken to Confession. + +In the workroom, the tools, the time-stained walls, everything +which remained there immovable, seemed to sleep in the repose of the +centuries, and from every corner came freshness and rest. A great +square of white light, smooth and pure, fell upon the frame over which +Hubertine and Angelique were bending, with their delicate profiles in +the fawn-coloured reflection of the gold. + +"Mademoiselle," began Felicien, feeling very awkward, as he realised +that he must give some reason for his visit--"I wish to say, +Mademoiselle, that for the hair it seems to me it would be better to +employ gold rather than silk." + +She raised her head, and the laughing expression of her eyes clearly +signified that he need not have taken the trouble of coming if he had no +other recommendation to make. And she looked down again as she replied, +in a half-mocking tone: + +"There is no doubt about that, Monsieur." + +He was indeed ridiculous, for he remarked then for the first time that +it was exactly what she was doing. Before her was the design he had +made, but tinted with water-colours, touched up with gold, with all the +delicacy of an old miniature, a little softened, like what one sees in +some prayer books of the fifteenth century. And she copied this image +with the patience and the skill of an artist working with a magnifying +glass. After having reproduced it with rather heavy strokes upon the +white silk, tightly stretched and lined with heavy linen, she covered +this silk with threads of gold carried from the bottom to the top, +fastened simply at the two ends, so that they were left free and close +to each other. When using the same threads as a woof, she separated them +with the point of her needle to find the design below. She followed this +same drawing, recovered the gold threads with stitches of silk across, +which she assorted according to the colours of the model. In the shaded +parts the silk completely hid the gold; in the half-lights the stitches +of silk were farther and farther apart, while the real lights were made +by gold alone, entirely uncovered. It was thus the shaded gold, that +most beautiful of all work, the foundation being modified by the silks, +making a picture of mellow colours as if warmed from beneath by a glory +and a mystic light. + +"Oh!" suddenly said Hubert, who began to stretch out the banner by +separating with his fingers the cords of the trellis, "the masterpiece +of a woman who embroidered in the olden time was always in this +difficult work. To become a member of the Corporation she had to make, +as it is written in the statutes, a figure by itself in shaded gold, +a sixth part as tall as if life-size. You would have been received, my +Angelique." + +Again there was an unbroken silence. Felicien watched her constantly, as +she stooped forward, absorbed in her task, quite as if she were entirely +alone. For the hair of the saint, contrary to the general rule, she had +had the same idea as he; that was, to use no silk, but to re-cover gold +with gold, and she kept ten needles at work with this brilliant thread +of all shades, from the dark red of dying embers, to the pale, delicate +yellow tint of the leaves of the forest trees in the autumn. Agnes was +thus covered from her neck to her ankles with a stream of golden hair. +It began at the back of her head, covered her body with a thick mantle, +flowed in front of her from the shoulders in two waves which united +under the chin, and fell down to her feet in one wavy sheet. It was, +indeed, the miraculous hair, a fabulous fleece, with heavy twists and +curls, a glorious, starry efflorescence, the warm and living robe of a +saint, perfumed with its pure nudity. + +That day Felicien could do nothing but watch Angelique as she +embroidered the curls, following the exact direction of their rolling +with her little pointed stitches, and he never wearied of seeing the +hair grow and radiate under her magic needle. Its weight, and the great +quivering with which it seemed to be unrolled at one turn, disturbed +him. + +Hubertine, occupied in sewing on spangles, hiding the thread with which +each one was attached with a tiny round of gold twist, lifted up her +head from time to time and gave him a calm motherly look, whenever she +was obliged to throw into the waste-basket a spangle that was not well +made. + +Hubert, who had just taken away the side pieces of wood, that he might +unstitch the banner from the frame, was about folding it up carefully. +And at last, Felicien, whose embarrassment was greatly increased by this +unbroken silence, realised that it was best for him to take leave, since +as yet he had not been able to think of any of the suggestions which he +had said he intended to make. + +He rose, blushed, and stammered: + +"I will return another day. I find that I have so badly succeeded in +reproducing the charming design of the head of the saint that you may +perhaps have need of some explanations from me." + +Angelique looked him fully in the face with her sweet, great eyes. + +"Oh, not at all. But come again, Monsieur. Do not hesitate to do so, if +you are in the least anxious about the execution of the work." + +He went away, happy from the permission given him, but chilled by the +coldness of manner of the young girl. Yes, he realised that she did not +now, and never would, love him. That being the case, what use was there +in seeing her? Yet on the morrow, as well as on the following days, +he did not fail to go to the little house on the Rue des Orfevres. The +hours which he could not pass there were sad enough, tortured as he was +by his uncertainties, distressed by his mental struggles. He was never +calm, except when he was near her as she sat at her frame. Provided that +she was by his side, it seemed to him that he could resign himself to +the acceptance of the fact that he was disagreeable to her. + +Every morning he arrived at an early hour, spoke of the work, then +seated himself as if his presence there were absolutely necessary. Then +he was in a state of enchantment simply to look at her, with her finely +cut features, her motionless profile, which seemed bathed in the liquid +golden tints of her hair; and he watched in ecstasy the skilful play of +her flexible hands, as she moved them up and down in the midst of the +needlefuls of gold or silk. She had become so habituated to his +presence that she was quite at her ease, and treated him as a comrade. +Nevertheless, he always felt that there was between them something +unexpressed which grieved him to the heart, he knew not why. +Occasionally she looked up, regarding him with an amused, half-mocking +air, and with an inquiring, impatient expression in her face. Then, +finding he was intensely embarrassed she at once became very cold and +distant. + +But Felicien had discovered one way in which he could rouse her, and +he took advantage of it. It was this--to talk to her of her art, of the +ancient masterpieces of embroidery he had seen, either preserved among +the treasures of cathedrals, or copies of which were engraved in books. +For instance, there were the superb copes: that of Charlemagne, in red +silk, with the great eagles with unfurled wings; and the cope of +Sion, which is decorated with a multitude of saintly figures. Then the +dalmatic, which is said to be the most beautiful piece of embroidery in +the whole world; the Imperial dalmatic, on which is celebrated the glory +of Jesus Christ upon the earth and in heaven, the Transfiguration, and +the Last Judgment, in which the different personages are embroidered +in silks of various colours, and in silver and gold. Also, there is +a wonderful tree of Jesse, an orfrey of silk upon satin, which is so +perfect it seems as if it were detached from a window of the fifteenth +century; Abraham at the foot, then David, Solomon, the Blessed Virgin +Mary, and at the very top the Saviour. + +Among the admirable chasubles he had seen, one in particular was +touching in its simplicity. It represented Christ on the Cross, and the +drops of blood from His side and His feet were made by little splashes +of red silk on the cloth of gold, while in the foreground was Mary, +tenderly supported by Saint John. + +On another one, which is called the chasuble of Naintre, the Virgin is +seated in majesty, with richly-wrought sandals on her feet, and holding +the Infant Jesus on her knees. Others, and still others of marvelous +workmanship were alluded to, venerable not only from their great age and +the beautiful faith that they expressed, but from a richness unknown +in our time, preserving the odour of the incense of tabernacles and the +mystic light which seemed to come from the slightly-faded gold. + +"Ah," sighed Angelique, "all those exquisite things are finished now. We +can only find certain tones to remind us of their perfection." + +With feverish hands and sparkling eyes she stopped working when Felicien +related to her the history of the most noted men and women who were +embroiderers in the olden time--Simonne de Gaules, Colin Jolye, and +others whose names have come down to us through the ages. Then, after +a few moments, she took up her needles again, and made them fly +vigorously, as she appeared transfigured, and guarded on her face the +traces of the delight her artist nature had received in listening to +all these accounts. Never had she seemed to him more beautiful, so +enthusiastic was she, so maidenly and so pure, seated there in the +brighter surroundings of so many coloured silks, applying herself with +unfailing exactitude to her work, into the slightest details of which +she put her whole soul. When he had left off speaking he looked at her +earnestly, until roused by the silence, she realised the excited state +into which all these histories had thrown her, and became as embarrassed +as if she had done something wrong. + +"Oh, dear, look; all my silks are entangled again! Mother, please not to +move about so much." + +Hubertine, who had not stirred at all, was amused, but simply smiled +without saying anything. At first she had been rather disturbed by the +constant attentions of the young man, and had talked the matter over +thoroughly with Hubert one evening in their room. But they could not +help being drawn towards him, and as in every respect his appearance +was good and his manners perfectly respectful, they concluded it was not +necessary to object to interviews from which Angelique derived so much +happiness. So matters were allowed to take their way, and she watched +over the young people with a loving air of protection. + +Moreover, she herself for many days had been oppressed by the lamenting +caresses of her husband, who seemed never to weary of asking her if he +had been forgiven. This month was the anniversary of the time when +they had lost their child, and each year at this date they had the +same regrets and the same longings; he, trembling at her feet, happy +to realise that he was pardoned; she, loving and distressed, blaming +herself for everything, and despairing that Fate had been inexorable to +all their prayers. They spoke of all this to no one, were the same to +outsiders in every way, but this increase of tenderness between them +came from their room like a silent perfume, disengaged itself from their +persons at the least movement, by each word, and by their way of looking +at each other, when it seemed as if for the moment they almost exchanged +souls. All this was like the grave accompaniment, the deep continuous +bass, upon which sang in clear notes the two hearts of the young couple. + +One week had passed, and the work on the mitre advanced. These daily +meetings had assumed a great and sweet familiarity. + +"The forehead should be very high, should it not? Without any trace of +eyebrows?" + +"Yes, very high, and not the slightest shade. Quite like an old +miniature." + +"Will you pass me the white silk?" + +"Wait a minute, that I may thread it." + +He helped her, and this union of work put them at their ease. It made +the occupation of each day seem perfectly natural to them both, and +without a word of love ever having been spoken, without their hands +having once met by a voluntary touch, the bond between them grew +stronger each hour, and they were henceforth eternally united one to the +other. It was sufficient for them to have lived until now. + +"Father, what are you doing that we no longer hear you?" + +She turned and saw Hubert, who was occupied in winding a long spool, as +his eyes were fixed abstractedly on his wife. + +"I am preparing some gold thread for your mother." + +And from the reel taken to his wife, from the mute thanks of Hubertine, +from the constant little attentions her husband gave her, there was +a warm, caressing breath which surrounded and enveloped Angelique and +Felicien as they both bent again over the frame. The workroom itself, +this ancient hall, as it might almost be called, with its old tools and +its peace of other ages, was an unconscious accomplice in this work of +union. It seemed so far away from the noise of the street, remote as if +in dreamy depths, in this country of good, simple souls, where miracles +reign, the easy realisation of all joys. + +In five days the mitre was to be finished; and Angelique, now sure +that it would be ready to be delivered, and that she would even have +twenty-four hours to spare, took a long breath of satisfaction, and +seemed suddenly astonished at finding Felicien so near her, with his +elbows on the trestle. Had they really become such intimate friends? +She no longer attempted to struggle against what she realised was his +conquering power; her half-malicious smiles ceased at what he tried +to keep back, and which she so well understood, in spite of his +subterfuges. What was it, then, that had made her as if asleep, in her +late restless waiting? And the eternal question returned, the question +that she asked herself every evening when she went to her room. Did she +love him? For hours, in the middle of her great bed, she had turned over +again and again these words, seeking for meanings she could not find, +and thinking she was too ignorant to explain them. But that night, all +at once, she felt her heart was softened by some inexplicable happiness. +She cried nervously, without reason, and hid her head in her pillow that +no one might hear her. + +Yes, now she loved him; she loved him enough to be willing to die for +him. But why? But how? She could not tell, she never would know; simply +from her whole heart came the cry that she did indeed love him. The +light had come to her at last; this new, overpowering joy overwhelmed +her like the most ardent rays of the sun. + +For a long time her tears flowed, but not from sorrow. On the contrary, +she was filled with an inexplicable confusion of happiness that was +indefinable, regretting now, more deeply than ever, that she had not +made a _confidante_ of Hubertine. To-day her secret burdened her, and +she made an earnest vow to herself that henceforth she would be as cold +as an icicle towards Felicien, and would suffer everything rather than +allow him to see her tenderness. He should never know it. To love +him, merely to love him, without even acknowledging it, that was the +punishment, the trial she must undergo to pardon her fault. It would be +to her in reality a delicious suffering. She thought of the martyrs of +whom she had read in the "Golden Legend," and it seemed to her that she +was their sister in torturing herself in this way, and that her guardian +angel, Agnes, would look at her henceforward with sadder, sweeter eyes +than ever. + +The following day Angelique finished the mitre. She had embroidered with +split silk, light as gossamer, the little hands and feet, which were the +only points of white, naked flesh that came out from the royal mantle of +golden hair. She perfected the face with all the delicacy of the purest +lily, wherein the gold seemed like the blood in the veins under the +delicate, silken skin. And this face, radiant as the sun, was turned +heavenward, as the youthful saint was borne upward by the angels toward +the distant horizon of the blue plain. + +When Felicien entered that day, he exclaimed with admiration: + +"Oh! how exactly she looks like you." + +It was an involuntary expression; an acknowledgment of the resemblance +he had purposely put in the design. He realised the fact after he had +spoken, and blushed deeply. + +"That is indeed true, my little one; she has the same beautiful eyes +that you have," said Hubert, who had come forward to examine the work. + +Hubertine merely smiled now, having made a similar remark many days +before, and she was surprised and grieved when she heard Angelique reply +in a harsh, disagreeable tone of voice, like that she sometimes had in +her fits of obstinacy years ago: + +"My beautiful eyes! Why will you make fun of me in that way? I know as +well as you do that I am very ugly." + +Then, getting up, she shook out her dress, overacting her assumed +character of a harsh, avaricious girl. + +"Ah, at last! It is really finished! I am thankful, for it was too much +of a task, too heavy a burden on my shoulders. Do you know, I would +never undertake to make another one for the same price?" + +Felicien listened to her in amazement. Could it be that after all she +still cared only for money? Had he been mistaken when he thought at +times she was so exquisitely tender, and so passionately devoted to her +artistic work? Did she in reality wish for the pay her labour brought +her? And was she so indifferent that she rejoiced at the completion of +her task, wishing neither to see nor to hear of it again? For several +days he had been discouraged as he sought in vain for some pretext of +continuing, later on, visits that gave him such pleasure. But, alas! it +was plain that she did not care for him in the least, and that she never +would love him. His suffering was so great that he grew very pale and +could scarcely speak. + +"But, Mademoiselle, will you not make up the mitre?" + +"No, mother can do it so much better than I can. I am too happy at the +thought that I have nothing more to do with it." + +"But do you not like the work which you do so well?" + +"I? I do not like anything in the world." + +Hubertine was obliged to speak to her sternly, and tell her to be quiet. +She then begged Felicien to be so good as to pardon her nervous child, +who was a little weary from her long-continued application. She +added that the mitre would be at his disposal at an early hour on the +following morning. It was the same as if she had asked him to go away, +but he could not leave. He stood and looked around him in this old +workroom, filled with shade and with peace, and it seemed to him as if +he were being driven from Paradise. He had spent so many sweet hours +there in the illusion of his brightest fancies, that it was like tearing +his very heart-strings to think all this was at an end. What troubled +him the worst was his inability to explain matters, and that he could +only take with him such a fearful uncertainty. At last he said good-day, +resolved to risk everything at the first opportunity rather than not to +know the truth. + +Scarcely had he closed the door when Hubert asked: + +"What is the matter with you, my dear child? Are you ill?" + +"No, indeed. It is simply that I am tired of having that young man here. +I do not wish to see him again." + +Then Hubertine added: "Very well; you will not see him again. But +nothing should ever prevent one from being polite." + +Angelique, making some trivial excuse, hurried up to her room as quickly +as possible. Then she gave free course to her tears. Ah, how intensely +happy she was, yet how she suffered! Her poor, dear beloved; he was sad +enough when he found he must leave her! But she must not forget that she +had made a vow to the saints, that although she loved him better than +life, he should never know it. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +On the evening of this same day, immediately after leaving the +dinner-table, Angelique complained of not being at all well, and went +up at once to her room. The agitation and excitement of the morning, her +struggles against her true self, had quite exhausted her. She made haste +to go to bed, and covering her head with the sheet, with a desperate +feeling of disappearing for ever if she could, again the tears came to +her relief. + +The hours passed slowly, and soon it was night--a warm July night, the +heavy, oppressive quiet of which entered through the window, which had +been left wide open. In the dark heavens glistened a multitude of stars. +It must have been nearly eleven o'clock, and the moon, already grown +quite thin in its last quarter, would not rise until midnight. + +And in the obscure chamber, Angelique still wept nervously a flow of +inexhaustible tears, seemingly without reason, when a slight noise at +her door caused her to lift up her head. + +There was a short silence, when a voice called her tenderly. + +"Angelique! Angelique! My darling child!" + +She recognised the voice of Hubertine. Without doubt the latter, in her +room with her husband, had just heard the distant sound of sobbing, and +anxious, half-undressed, she had come upstairs to find out what was the +matter with her daughter. + +"Angelique, are you ill, my dear?" + +Retaining her breath, the young girl made no answer. She did not wish to +be unkind, but her one absorbing idea at this moment was of solitude. +To be alone was the only possible alleviation of her trouble. A word of +consolation, a caress, even from her mother, would have distressed her. +She imagined that she saw her standing at the other side of the door, +and from the delicacy of the rustling movement on the tiled floor she +thought she must be barefooted. Two or three minutes passed, and she +knew the kind watcher had not left her place, but that, stooping, and +holding with her beautiful hands the clothing so carelessly thrown over +her, she still listened at the keyhole. + +Hubertine, hearing nothing more, not even a sigh, did not like to call +again. She was very sure that she had heard sobs; but if the child had +at last been able to sleep, what good would it do to awaken her? She +waited, however, another moment, troubled by the thought of a grief +which her daughter hid from her, confusedly imagining what it might +be from the tender emotion with which her heart seemed filled from +sympathy. At last she concluded to go down as she had come up, quietly, +her hands being so familiar with every turning that she needed no +candle, and leaving behind her no other sound than the soft, light touch +of her bare feet. + +Then, sitting up in bed, Angelique in her turn listened. So profound +was the outward silence that she could clearly distinguish the slight +pressure of the heel on the edge of each step of the stairway. At the +foot, the door of the chamber was opened, then closed again; afterward, +she heard a scarcely-distinct murmur, an affectionate, yet sad blending +of voices in a half-whisper. No doubt it was what her father and mother +were saying of her; the fears and the hopes they had in regard to her. +For a long time that continued, although they must have put out their +light and gone to bed. + +Never before had any night sounds in this old house mounted in this way +to her ears. Ordinarily, she slept the heavy, tranquil sleep of youth; +she heard nothing whatever after placing her head upon her pillow; +whilst now, in the wakefulness caused by the inner combat against an +almost overpowering sentiment of affection which she was determined to +conquer, it seemed to her as if the whole house were in unison with +her, that it was also in love, and mourned like herself. Were not the +Huberts, too, sad, as they stilled their tears and thought of the child +they had lost long ago, whose place, alas! had never been filled? She +knew nothing of this in reality, but she had a sensation in this warm +night of the watch of her parents below her, and of the disappointment +in their lives, which they could not forget, notwithstanding their great +love for each other, which was always as fresh as when they were young. + +Whilst she was seated in this way, listening in the house that trembled +and sighed, Angelique lost all self-control, and again the tears rolled +down her face, silently, but warm and living, as if they were her life's +blood. One question above all others had troubled her since the early +morning, and had grieved her deeply. Was she right in having sent away +Felicien in despair, stabbed to the heart by her coldness, and with the +thought that she did not love him? She knew that she did love him, yet +she had willingly caused him to suffer, and now in her turn she was +suffering intensely. Why should there be so much pain connected with +love? Did the saints wish for tears? Could it be that Agnes, her +guardian angel, was angry in the knowledge that she was happy? Now, for +the first time, she was distracted by a doubt. Before this, whenever she +thought of the hero she awaited, and who must come sooner or later, she +had arranged everything much more satisfactorily. When the right time +arrived he was to enter her very room, where she would immediately +recognise and welcome him, when they would both go away together, to +be united for evermore. But how different was the reality! He had +come, and, instead of what she had foreseen, their meeting was most +unsatisfactory; they were equally unhappy, and were eternally separated. +To what purpose? Why had this result come to pass? Who had exacted from +her so strange a vow, that, although he might be very dear to her, she +was never to let him know it? + +But, yet again, Angelique was especially grieved from the fear that she +might have been bad and done some very wrong thing. Perhaps the original +sin that was in her had manifested itself again as when she was a little +girl! She thought over all her acts of pretended indifference: the +mocking air with which she had received Felicien, and the malicious +pleasure she took in giving him a false idea of herself. And the +astonishment at what she had done, added to a cutting remorse for her +cruelty, increased her distress. Now, her whole heart was filled with a +deep infinite pity for the suffering she had caused him without really +meaning to do so. + +She saw him constantly before her, as he was when he left the house in +the morning: the despairing expression of his face, his troubled eyes, +his trembling lips; and in imagination she followed him through the +streets, as he went home, pale, utterly desolate, and wounded to the +heart's core by her. Where was he now? Perhaps at this hour he was +really ill! + +She wrung her hands in agony, distressed that she could not at once +repair the evil she had done. Ah! how she revolted at the idea of having +made another suffer, for she had always wished to be good, and to render +those about her as happy as possible. + +Twelve o'clock would ere long ring out from the old church-tower; the +great elms of the garden of the Bishop's palace hid the moon, which was +just appearing above the horizon, and the chamber was still dark. Then, +letting her head fall back upon the pillow, Angelique dwelt no longer +upon these disturbing questions, as she wished to go to sleep. But this +she could not do; although she kept her eyes closed, her mind was still +active; she thought of the flowers which every night during the last +fortnight she had found when she went upstairs upon the balcony before +her window. Each evening it was a lovely bouquet of violets, which +Felicien had certainly thrown there from the Clos-Marie. She recollected +having told him that flowers generally gave her a sick headache, whilst +violets alone had the singular virtue of calming her, and so he had sent +her quiet nights, a perfumed sleep refreshed by pleasant dreams. This +evening she had placed the bouquet by her bedside. All at once she had +the happy thought of taking it into her bed with her, putting it near +her cheek, and, little by little, being soothed with its sweet breath. +The purple blossoms did indeed do her good. Not that she slept, however; +but she lay there with closed eyes, penetrated by the refreshing +odour that came from his gift; happy to await events, in a repose and +confident abandonment of her whole being. + +But suddenly she started. It was past midnight. She opened her eyes, +and was astonished to find her chamber filled with a clear bright light. +Above the great elms the moon rose slowly, dimming the stars in the pale +sky. Through the window she saw the apse of the cathedral, almost white, +and it seemed to her as if it were the reflection of this whiteness +which entered her room, like the light of the dawn, fresh and pure. The +whitewashed walls and beams, all this blank nudity was increased by it, +enlarged, and moved back as if it were unreal as a dream. + +She still recognised, however, the old, dark, oaken furniture--the +wardrobe, the chest and the chairs, with the shining edges of their +elaborate carvings. The bedstead alone--this great square, royal +couch--seemed new to her, as if she saw it for the first time, with +its high columns supporting its canopy of old-fashioned, rose-tinted +cretonne, now bathed with such a sheet of deep moonlight that she half +thought she was on a cloud in the midst of the heavens, borne along by +a flight of silent, invisible wings. For a moment she felt the full +swinging of it; it did not seem at all strange or unnatural to her. But +her sight soon grew accustomed to the reality; her bed was again in its +usual corner, and she was in it, not moving her head, her eyes alone +turning from side to side, as she lay in the midst of this lake of +beaming rays, with the bouquet of violets upon her lips. + +Why was it that she was thus in a state of waiting? Why could she not +sleep? She was sure that she expected someone. That she had grown quite +calm was a sign that her hero was about to appear. This consoling +light, which put to flight the darkness of all bad dreams, announced +his arrival. He was on his way, and the moon, whose brightness almost +equalled that of the sun, was simply his forerunner. She must be ready +to greet him. + +The chamber was as if hung with white velvet now, so they could see each +other well. Then she got up, dressed herself thoroughly, putting on a +simple white gown of foulard, the same she had worn the day of their +excursion to the ruins of Hautecoeur. She did not braid her hair, but +let it hang over her shoulders. She put a pair of slippers upon her bare +feet, and drawing an armchair in front of the window, seated herself, +and waited in patience. + +Angelique did not pretend to know how he would appear. Without doubt, he +would not come up the stairs, and it might be that she would simply see +him over the Clos-Marie, while she leaned from the balcony. Still, +she kept her place on the threshold of the window, as it seemed to her +useless to go and watch for him just yet. So vague was her idea of real +life, so mystic was love, that she did not understand in her imaginative +nature why he might not pass through the walls, like the saints in the +legends. Why should not miracles come now, as in the olden days, for had +not all this been ordained from the beginning? + +Not for a moment did she think she was alone to receive him. No, indeed! +She felt as if she were surrounded by the crowd of virgins who had +always been near her, since her early youth. They entered on the rays of +the moonlight, they came from the great dark trees with their blue-green +tops in the Bishop's garden, from the most intricate corners of the +entanglement of the stone front of the Cathedral. From all the familiar +and beloved horizon of the Chevrotte, from the willows, the grasses, +and bushes, the young girl heard the dreams which came back to her, the +hopes, the desires, the visions, all that which she had put of herself +into inanimate objects as she saw them daily, and which they now +returned to her. Never had the voices of the Invisible unknown spoken +so clearly. She listened to them as they came from afar, recognising +particularly in this warm, beautiful night, so calm that there was not +the slightest movement in the air, the delicate sound which she was +wont to call the fluttering of the robe of Agnes, when her dear guardian +angel came to her side. She laughed quietly to know that she was now by +her, and waiting with the others who were near her. + +Time passed, but it did not seem long to Angelique. She was quite +conscious of what was passing around her. It appeared to her perfectly +natural, and exactly as it had been foretold, when at last she saw +Felicien striding over the balustrade of the balcony. + +His tall figure came out in full relief before the background of the +white sky; he did not approach the open window, but remained in its +luminous shadow. + +"Do not be afraid. It is I. I have come to see you." + +She was not in the slightest way alarmed; she simply thought that he was +exact to the hour of meeting, and said calmly: + +"You mounted by the timber framework, did you not?" + +"Yes, by the framework." + +The idea of this way made her laugh, and he himself was amused by it. +He had in fact pulled himself up by the pent-house shed; then, climbing +along the principal rafters from there, whose ends were supported by the +string-course of the first story, he had without difficulty reached the +balcony. + +"I was expecting you. Will you not come nearer me?" + +Felicien, who had arrived in a state of anger, not knowing how he had +dared to come, but with many wild ideas in his head, did not move, so +surprised and delighted was he by this unexpected reception. As he had +come at last, Angelique was now certain that the saints did not prohibit +her from loving, for she heard them welcoming him with her by a laugh as +delicate as a breath of the night. Where in the world had she ever found +so ridiculous an idea as to think that Agnes would be angry with her! On +the contrary, Agnes was radiant with a joy that she felt as it descended +on her shoulders and enveloped her like a caress from two great wings. +All those who had died for love showed great compassion for youthful +troubles, and only returned to earth on summer nights, that, although +invisible, they might watch those young hearts who were sorrowful from +affection. + +"But why do you not come to me? I was waiting for you." + +Then, hesitatingly, Felicien approached. He had been so excited, so +carried away by anger at her indifference, that he had said she should +be made to love him, and that, were it necessary, he would carry her +away even against her will. And lo! now finding her so gentle as he +penetrated almost to the entrance of this chamber, so pure and white, he +became subdued at once, and as gentle and submissive as a child. + +He took three steps forward. But he was afraid, and not daring to go +farther, he fell on his knees at the end of the balcony. + +"Could you but know," he said, "the abominable tortures I have passed +through. I have never imagined a worse suffering. Really, the only true +grief is to think that you are not beloved by the person to whom you +have given your affection. I would willingly give up all else; would +consent to be poor, dying from hunger, or racked by pain; but I will +not pass another day with this terrible doubt gnawing at my heart, of +thinking that you do not love me. Be good, I pray you, and pity me." + +She listened to him, silent, overcome with compassion, yet very happy +withal. + +"This morning you sent me away in such a dreadful manner! I had fancied +to myself that you had changed your feelings towards me, and that, +appreciating my affection, you liked me better. But, alas! I found you +exactly as you had been on the first day, cold, indifferent, treating me +as you would have done any other simple customer who passed, recalling +me harshly to the commonplaces of life. On the stairway I staggered. +Once outside, I ran, and was afraid I might scream aloud. Then, the +moment I reached home, it seemed to me I should stifle were I to enter +the house. So I rushed out into the fields, walking by chance first on +one side of the road and then on another. Evening came, and I was still +wandering up and down. But the torment of spirit moved faster than ever +and devoured me. When one is hopelessly in love, it is impossible to +escape from the pains accompanying one's affection. Listen!" he said, +and he touched his breast; "it is here that you stabbed me, and the +point of the knife still continues to penetrate deeper and deeper." + +He gave a long sigh at the keen recollection of his torture. + +"I found myself at last in a thicket, overcome by my distress, like a +tree that has been drawn up by the roots. To me, the only thing that +existed in life, in the future, was you. The thought that you might +never be mine was more than I could bear. Already my feet were so weary +that they would no longer support me. I felt that my hands were growing +icy cold, and my head was filled with the strangest fancies. And that +is why I am here. I do not know at all how I came, or where I found the +necessary strength to bring me to you. You must try to forgive me; +but had I been forced to do so, I would have broken open doors with my +fists, I would have clambered up to this balcony in broad daylight, for +my will was no longer under my control, and I was quite wild. Now, will +you not pardon me?" + +She was a little in the shadow, and he, on his knees in the full +moonlight, could not see that she had grown very pale in her tender +repentance, and was too touched by his story to be able to speak. He +thought that she was still insensible to his pleadings, and he joined +his hands together most beseechingly. + +"All my interest in you commenced long ago. It was one night when I +saw you for the first time, here at your window. You were only a vague, +white shadow; I could scarcely distinguish one of your features, yet I +saw you and imagined you just as you are in reality. But I was timid and +afraid, so for several days I wandered about here, never daring to +try to meet you in the open day. And, in addition, since this is a +confession, I must tell you everything; you pleased me particularly in +this half mystery; it would have disturbed me to have you come out +from it, for my great happiness was to dream of you as if you were an +apparition, or an unknown something to be worshipped from afar, without +ever hoping to become acquainted with you. Later on, I knew who you +were, for after all it is difficult to resist the temptation to +know what may be the realisation of one's dream. It was then that +my restlessness commenced. It has increased at each meeting. Do you +recollect the first time that we spoke to each other in the field near +by, on that forenoon when I was examining the painted window? Never in +my life did I feel so awkward as then, and it was not strange that +you ridiculed me so. Afterwards I frightened you, and realised that I +continued to be very unfortunate in following you, even in the visits +you made to the poor people. Already I ceased to be master of my own +actions, and did things that astonished me beyond measure, and which, +under usual circumstances, I would not have dared attempt. For instance, +when I presented myself here with the order for a mitre, I was pushed +forward by an involuntary force, as, personally, I dared not do it, +knowing that I might make you angry. But at present I cannot regain my +old self, I can only obey my impulses. I know that you do not like me, +and yet, as you see, in spite of it all I have come back to you, that +I may hear you tell me so. If you would but try to understand how +miserable I am. Do not love me if it is not in your heart to do so. I +must accept my fate. But at least allow me to love you. Be as cold as +you please, be hateful if you will--I shall adore you whatever you may +choose to be. I only ask to be able to see you, even without any hope; +merely for the joy of living thus at your feet." + +Felicien stopped, disheartened, losing all courage as he thought he +would never find any way of touching her heart. And he did not see that +Angelique smiled, half hidden as she was by the open window-sash. It was +an invincible smile, that, little by little, spread over her whole face. +Ah! the dear fellow! How simple and trusting he was as he outpoured the +prayer of his heart, filled with new longings and love, in bowing before +her, as before the highest ideal of all his youthful dreams. + +To think that she had ever been so foolish as at first to try to avoid +all meetings with him, and then, later on, had determined that although +she could not help loving him, he should never know it! Such folly on +her part was quite inexplicable. Since love is right, and is the fate of +all, what good could be gained by making martyrs of them both? + +A complete silence ensued, and in her enthusiastic, imaginative, nervous +state, she heard, louder than ever, in the quiet of the warm night, the +voices of the saints about her, who said love was never forbidden when +it was so ardent and true as this. Behind her back a bright flash of +light had suddenly appeared; scarcely a breath, but a delicate wave from +the moon upon the chamber floor. An invisible finger, no doubt that of +her guardian angel, was placed upon her mouth, as if to unseal her +lips and relieve her from her vow. Henceforth she could freely unburden +herself and tell the truth. All that which was powerful and tender in +her surroundings now whispered to her words which seemed to come from +the infinite unknown. + +Then, at last, Angelique spoke. + +"Ah! yes, I recollect--I recollect it all." + +And Felicien was at once carried away with delight by the music of this +voice, whose extreme charm was so great over him that his love seemed to +increase simply from listening to it. + +"Yes, I remember well when you came in the night. You were so far away +those first evenings that the little sound you made in walking left me +in quite an uncertain state. At last I realised perfectly that it was +you who approached me, and a little later I recognised your shadow. At +length, one evening you showed yourself boldly, on a beautiful, bright +night like this, in the full white light of the moon. You came out so +slowly from the inanimate objects near you, like a creation from all the +mysteries that surrounded me, exactly as I had expected to see you for a +long time, and punctual to the meeting. + +"I have never forgotten the great desire to laugh, which I kept back, +but which broke forth in spite of me, when you saved the linen that +was being carried away by the Chevrotte. I recollect my anger when you +robbed me of my poor people, by giving them so much money, and thus +making me appear as a miser. I can still recall my fear on the evening +when you forced me to run so fast through the grass with my bare feet. +Oh, yes, I have not forgotten anything--not the slightest thing." + +At this last sentence her voice, pure and crystalline, was a little +broken by the thought of those magic words of the young man, the power +of which she felt so deeply when he said, "I love you," and a deep blush +passed over her face. And he--he listened to her with delight. + +"It is indeed true that I did wrong to tease you. When one is ignorant, +one is often so foolish. One does many things which seem necessary, +simply from the fear of being found fault with if following the impulses +of the heart. But my remorse for all this was deep, and my sufferings, +in consequence, were as great as yours. Were I to try to explain all +this to you, it would be quite impossible for me to do so. When you +came to us with your drawing of Saint Agnes, oh! I could have cried out, +'Thank you, thank you!' I was perfectly enchanted to work for you, as I +thought you would certainly make us a daily visit. And yet, think of it! +I pretended to be indifferent, as if I had taken upon myself the task of +doing all in my power to drive you from the house. Has one ever the need +of being willfully unhappy? Whilst in reality I longed to welcome you +and to receive you with open hands, there seemed to be in the depths of +my nature another woman than myself, who revolted, who was afraid of and +mistrusted you--whose delight it was to torture you with uncertainty, +in the vague idea of setting up a quarrel, the cause of which, in a time +long passed, had been quite forgotten. I am not always good; often in my +soul things seem to creep up that I cannot explain or account for. The +worst of it was that I dared to speak to you of money. Fancy it, then! +Of money! I, who have never thought of it, who would accept chariots of +it, only for the pleasure of making it rain down as I wished, among the +needy! What a malicious amusement I gave myself in this calumniating my +character. Will you ever forgive me?" + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Felicien was at her feet. Until now he had kept his place in the remote +corner of the balcony. But in the intense happiness she gave him in thus +unfolding the innermost secrets of her soul he had drawn himself on his +knees towards her, as he approached the window. This great, illimitable +joy was so unlooked for, that he yielded to it in all the infinitude of +its hopes of the future. + +He half whispered: + +"Ah, dear soul, pure, kind, and beautiful, your wonderful goodness has +cured me as with a breath! I know not now if I have ever suffered. +And, in your turn, you will now have to pardon me, for I have an +acknowledgment to make to you. I must tell you who I am." + +He was troubled at the thought he could no longer disguise himself or +his position, since she had confided so freely and entirely in him. It +would be disloyal in the highest degree to do so. Yet he hesitated, lest +he might, after all, lose her, were she to be anxious about the future +when at last she knew the facts. + +And she waited for him to speak again, a little malicious in spite of +herself. + +In a very low voice he continued: + +"I have told a falsehood to your parents." + +"Yes, I know it," she said as she smiled. + +"No, you do not know it; you could not possibly know it, for all that +happened too long ago. I only paint on glass for my own pleasure, and as +a simple amusement; you really ought to be told of that." + +Then, with a quick movement, she put her hand on his mouth, as if she +wished to prevent this explanation. + +"I do not care to hear any more. I have been expecting you. I knew +that sooner or later you would come, and you have done so. That is +all-sufficient." + +They talked no longer for a while. That little hand over his lips seemed +almost too great a happiness for him. + +"When the right time comes, then I shall know all. Yet I assure you that +I am ignorant of nothing connected with you, for everything had been +revealed to me before our first meeting. You were to be, and can be, +only the handsomest, the richest, and the most noble of men, the one +above all others; for that has ever been my dream, and in the sure +certainty of its full accomplishment I wait calmly. You are the chosen +hero who it was ordained should come, and I am yours." + +A second time she interrupted herself in the tremor of the words she +pronounced. She did not appear to say them by herself alone; they came +to her as if sent by the beautiful night from the great white heavens, +from the old trees, and the aged stones sleeping outside and dreaming +aloud the fancies of the young girl. From behind her voices also +whispered them to her, the voices of her friends in the "Golden Legend," +with whom she had peopled the air and the space around her. In this +atmosphere she had ever lived--mysticism, in which she revelled until +it seemed fact on one side, and the daily work of life on the other. +Nothing seemed strange to her. + +Now but one word remained to be said--that which would express all the +long waiting, the slow creation of affection, the constantly increasing +fever of restlessness. It escaped from her lips like a cry from a +distance, from the white flight of a bird mounting upward in the light +of the early dawn, in the pure whiteness of the chamber behind her. + +"I love you." + +Angelique, her two hands spread out, bent forward towards Felicien. And +he recalled to himself the evening when she ran barefooted through the +grass, making so adorable a picture that he pursued her in order to +stammer in her ear these same words: "I love you." He knew that now she +was simply replying to him with the same cry of affection, the eternal +cry, which at last came from her freely-opened heart. + +"Yes, I love you. I am yours. Lead the way, and I will follow you +wherever it may be." + +In this surrender of her soul she gave herself to him fully and +entirely. It was the hereditary flame relighted within her--the pride +and the passion she thought had been conquered, but which awoke at the +wish of her beloved. He trembled before this innocence, so ardent and so +ingenuous. He took her hands gently, and crossed them upon her breast. +For a moment he looked at her, radiant with the intense happiness +her confession had given him, unwilling to wound her delicacy in the +slightest degree, and not thinking of yielding to the temptation of even +kissing her hair. + +"You love me, and you know that I love you! Ah! what bliss there is in +such knowledge." + +But they were suddenly drawn from their ecstatic state by a change about +them. What did it all mean? They realised that now they were looking +at each other under a great white light. It seemed to them as if the +brightness of the moon had been increased, and was as resplendent as +that of the sun. It was in reality the daybreak, a slight shade of which +already tinged with purple the tops of the elm-trees in the neighbouring +gardens. What? It could not be possible that the dawn had come? They +were astonished by it, for they did not realise so long a time had +passed since they began to talk together on the balcony. She had as yet +told him nothing, and he had so many things he wished to say! + +"Oh, stay one minute more, only one minute!" he exclaimed. + +The daylight advanced still faster--the smiling morning, already +warm, of what was to be a hot day in summer. One by one the stars were +extinguished, and with them fled the wandering visions, and all the host +of invisible friends seemed to mount upward and to glide away on the +moon's rays. + +Now, in the full, clear light, the room behind them had only its +ordinary whiteness of walls and ceiling, and seemed quite empty with its +old-fashioned furniture of dark oak. The velvet hangings were no longer +there, and the bedstead had resumed its original shape, as it stood half +hidden by the falling of one of its curtains. + +"Do stay! Let me be near you only one minute more!" + +Angelique, having risen, refused, and begged Felicien to leave +immediately. Since the day had come, she had grown confused and anxious. +The reality was now here. At her right hand, she seemed to hear a +delicate movement of wings, whilst her hair was gently blown, although +there was not the slightest breath of wind. Was it not Saint Agnes, who, +having remained until the last, was now forced to leave, driven away by +the sun? + +"No, leave me, I beg of you. I am unwilling you should stay longer." + +Then Felicien, obedient, withdrew. + +To know that he was beloved was enough for him, and satisfied him. +Still, before leaving the balcony, he turned, and looked at her again +fixedly, as if he wished to carry away with him an indelible remembrance +of her. They both smiled at each other as they stood thus, bathed with +light, in this long caressing look. + +At last he said: + +"I love you." + +And she gently replied: + +"I love you." + +That was all, and he had in a moment, with the agility of a bird, gone +down the woodwork of the corner of the building, while she, remaining on +the balcony, leaned on the balustrade and watched him, with her tender, +beautiful eyes. She had taken the bouquet of violets and breathed the +perfume to cool her feverishness. When, in crossing the Clos-Marie, he +lifted his head, he saw that she was kissing the flowers. + +Scarcely had Felicien disappeared behind the willows, when Angelique was +disturbed by hearing below the opening of the house-door. Four o'clock +had just struck, and no one was in the habit of getting up until two +hours later. Her surprise increased when she recognised Hubertine, as it +was always Hubert who went down the first. She saw her follow slowly the +walks of the narrow garden, her arms hanging listlessly at her sides, as +if, after a restless, sleepless night, a feeling of suffocating, a need +of breathing the fresh air, had made her leave her room so early. And +Hubertine was really very beautiful, with her clothes so hastily put on; +and she seemed very weary--happy, but in the deepest grief. + +The morning of the next day, on waking from a sound sleep of eight +hours, one of those sweet, deep, refreshing sleeps that come after some +great happiness, Angelique ran to her window. The sky was clear, the +air pure, and the fine weather had returned after a heavy shower of the +previous evening. Delighted, she called out joyously to Hubert, who was +just opening the blinds below her: + +"Father! Father! Do look at the beautiful sunlight. Oh, how glad I am, +for the procession will be superb!" + +Dressing herself as quickly as possible, she hurried to go downstairs. +It was on that day, July 28, that the Procession of the Miracle would +pass through the streets of the upper town. Every summer at this date +it was also a festival for the embroiderers; all work was put aside, no +needles were threaded, but the day was passed in ornamenting the house, +after a traditional arrangement that had been transmitted from mother to +daughter for four hundred years. + +All the while that she was taking her coffee, Angelique talked of the +hangings. + +"Mother, we must look at them at once, to see if they are in good +order." + +"We have plenty of time before us, my dear," replied Hubertine, in her +quiet way. "We shall not put them up until afternoon." + +The decorations in question consisted of three large panels of the +most admirable ancient embroidery, which the Huberts guarded with the +greatest care as a sacred family relic, and which they brought out once +a year on the occasion of the passing of this special procession. + +The previous evening, according to a time-honoured custom, the Master +of the Ceremonies, the good Abbe Cornille, had gone from door to door to +notify the inhabitants of the route which would be taken by the bearers +of the statue of Saint Agnes, accompanied by Monseigneur the Bishop, +carrying the Holy Sacrament. For more than five centuries this route had +been the same. The departure was made from the portal of Saint Agnes, +then by the Rue des Orfevres to the Grand Rue, to the Rue Basse, and +after having gone through the whole of the lower town, it returned by +the Rue Magloire and the Place du Cloitre, to reappear again at the +great front entrance of the Church. And the dwellers on all these +streets, vying with each other in their zeal, decorated their windows, +hung upon their walls their richest possessions in silks, satins, +velvets, or tapestry, and strewed the pavements with flowers, +particularly with the leaves of roses and carnations. + +Angelique was very impatient until permission had been given her to +take from the drawers, where they had been quietly resting for the past +twelve months, the three pieces of embroidery. + +"They are in perfect order, mother. Nothing has happened to them," she +said, as she looked at them, enraptured. + +She had with the greatest care removed the mass of silk paper that +protected them from the dust, and they now appeared in all their beauty. +The three were consecrated to Mary. The Blessed Virgin receiving the +visit of the Angel of the Annunciation; the Virgin Mother at the foot +of the Cross; and the Assumption of the Virgin. They were made in +the fifteenth century, of brightly coloured silks wrought on a golden +background, and were wonderfully well preserved. The family had always +refused to sell them, although very large sums had been offered by +different churches, and they were justly proud of their possessions. + +"Mother, dear, may I not hang them up to-day?" + +All these preparations required a great deal of time. Hubert was +occupied the whole forenoon in cleaning the front of the old building. +He fastened a broom to the end of a long stick, that he might dust all +the wooden panels decorated with bricks, as far as the framework of the +roof; then with a sponge he washed all the sub-basement of stone, and +all the parts of the stairway tower that he could reach. When that +was finished, the three superb pieces of embroidery were put in their +places. Angelique attached them, by their rings, to venerable nails that +were in the walls; the Annunciation below the window at the left, the +Assumption below the window at the right, while for the Calvary, the +nails for that were above the great window of the first story, and she +was obliged to use a step-ladder that she might hang it there in its +turn. She had already embellished the window with flowers, so that the +ancient dwelling seemed to have gone back to the far-away time of its +youth, with its embroideries of gold and of silk glistening in the +beautiful sunshine of this festive day. + +After the noon breakfast the activity increased in every direction, and +the whole Rue des Orfevres was now in excitement. To avoid the great +heat, the procession would not move until five o'clock, but after twelve +the town began to be decorated. Opposite the Huberts', the silversmith +dressed his shop with draperies of an exquisite light blue, bordered +with a silver fringe; while the wax-chandler, who was next to him, made +use of his window-curtains of red cotton, which looked more brilliant +than ever in the broad light of day. At each house there were different +colours; a prodigality of stuffs, everything that people owned, even to +rugs of all descriptions, were blowing about in the weary air of this +hot summer afternoon. The street now seemed clothed, sparkling, and +almost trembling with gaiety, as if changed into a gallery of fete open +to the sky. All its inhabitants were rushing to and fro, pushing against +each other; speaking loud, as if in their own homes; some of them +carrying their arms full of objects, others climbing, driving nails, +and calling vociferously. In addition to all this was the _reposoir_, +or altar, that was being prepared at the corner of the Grand Rue, the +arrangements for which called for the services of all the women of the +neighbourhood, who eagerly offered their vases and candlesticks. + +Angelique ran down to carry the two candelabra, of the style of the +Empire, which they had on the mantel-shelf of their parlour. She had not +taken a moment's rest since the early morning, but had shown no signs of +fatigue, being, on the contrary, supported and carried above herself by +her great inward happiness. And as she came back from her errand, her +hair blown all about her face by the wind, Hubert began to tease her as +she seated herself to strip off the leaves of the roses, and to put them +in a great basket. + +"You could not do any more than you have done were it your wedding-day, +my dear. Is it, then, that you are really to be married now?" + +"But yes! oh, yes! Why not?" she answered gaily. + +Hubertine smiled in her turn. + +"While waiting, my daughter, since the house is so satisfactorily +arranged, the best thing for us to do is to go upstairs and dress." + +"In a minute, mother. Look at my full basket." + +She had finished taking the leaves from the roses which she had reserved +to throw before Monseigneur. The petals rained from her slender fingers; +the basket was running over with its light, perfumed contents. Then, +as she disappeared on the narrow stairway of the tower, she said, while +laughing heartily: + +"We will be quick. I will make myself beautiful as a star!" + +The afternoon advanced. Now the feverish movement in Beaumont-l'Eglise +was calmed; a peculiar air of expectation seemed to fill the streets, +which were all ready, and where everyone spoke softly, in hushed, +whispering voices. The heat had diminished, as the sun's rays grew +oblique, and between the houses, so closely pressed the one against +the others, there fell from the pale sky only a warm, fine shadow of a +gentle, serene nature. The air of meditation was profound, as if the old +town had become simply a continuation of the Cathedral; the only sound +of carriages that could be heard came up from Beaumont-la-Ville, the new +town on the banks of the Ligneul, where many of the factories were +not closed, as the proprietors disdained taking part in this ancient +religious ceremony. + +Soon after four o'clock the great bell of the northern tower, the one +whose swinging stirred the house of the Huberts, began to ring; and it +was at that very moment that Hubertine and Angelique reappeared. The +former had put on a dress of pale buff linen, trimmed with a simple +thread lace, but her figure was so slight and youthful in its delicate +roundness that she looked as if she were the sister of her adopted +daughter. Angelique wore her dress of white foulard, with its soft +ruchings at the neck and wrists, and nothing else; neither earrings +nor bracelets, only her bare wrists and throat, soft in their satiny +whiteness as they came out from the delicate material, light as the +opening of a flower. An invisible comb, put in place hastily, scarcely +held the curls of her golden hair, which was carelessly dressed. She +was artless and proud, of a most touching simplicity, and, indeed, +"beautiful as a star." + +"Ah!" she said, "the bell! That is to show that Monseigneur has left his +palace." + +The bell continued to sound loud and clear in the great purity of the +atmosphere. The Huberts installed themselves at the wide-opened window +of the first story, the mother and daughter being in front, with +their elbows resting on the bar of support, and the husband and father +standing behind them. These were their accustomed places; they could not +possibly have found better, as they would be the very first to see +the procession as it came from the farther end of the church, without +missing even a single candle of the marching-past. + +"Where is my basket?" asked Angelique. + +Hubert was obliged to take and pass to her the basket of rose-leaves, +which she held between her arms, pressed against her breast. + +"Oh, that bell!" she at last murmured; "it seems as if it would lull us +to sleep!" + +And still the waiting continued in the little vibrating house, sonorous +with the musical movement; the street and the great square waited, +subdued by this great trembling, whist the hangings on every side blew +about more quietly in the air of the coming evening. The perfume of +roses was very sweet. + +Another half-hour passed. Then at the same moment the two halves of the +portal of Saint Agnes were opened, and they perceived the very depths +of the church, dark in reality, but dotted with little bright spots from +the tapers. First the bearer of the Cross appeared, a sub-deacon in +a tunic, accompanied by the acolytes, each one of whom held a lighted +candle in his hand. Behind them hurried along the Master of the +Ceremonies, the good Abbe Cornille, who after having assured himself +that everything was in perfect order in the street, stopped under the +porch, and assisted a moment at the passing out, in order to be sure +that the places assigned to each section had been rightly taken. +The various societies of laymen opened the march: the charitable +associations, schools, by rank of seniority, and numerous public +organisations. There were a great many children: little girls all in +white, like brides, and little bareheaded boys, with curly hair, dressed +in their best, like princes, already looking in every direction to find +where their mothers were. A splendid fellow, nine years of age, walked +by himself in the middle, clad like Saint John the Baptist, with a +sheepskin over his thin, bare shoulders. Four little girls, covered with +pink ribbons, bore a shield on which was a sheaf of ripe wheat. Then +there were young girls grouped around a banner of the Blessed Virgin; +ladies in black, who also had their special banner of crimson silk, on +which was embroidered a portrait of Saint Joseph. There were other +and still other banners, in velvet or in satin, balanced at the end of +gilded batons. The brotherhoods of men were no less numerous; penitents +of all colours, but especially the grey penitents in dark linen suits, +wearing cowls, and whose emblems made a great sensation--a large cross, +with a wheel, to which were attached the instruments of the Passion. + +Angelique exclaimed with tenderness when the children came by: + +"Oh, the blessed darlings! Do look at them all!" + +One, no higher than a boot, scarcely three years of age, proudly +tottered along on his little feet, and looked so comical that she +plunged her hands into her basket and literally covered him with +flowers. He quite disappeared under them for an instant; he had roses +in his hair and on his shoulders. The exquisite little laughing shout he +uttered was enjoyed on every side, and flowers rained down from all the +windows as the cherub passed. In the humming silence of the street one +could now only hear the deafened sound of the regular movement of feet +in the procession, while flowers by the handful still continued to fall +silently upon the pavement. Very soon there were heaps of them. + +But now, reassured upon the good order of the laymen, the Abbe Cornille +grew impatient and disturbed, inasmuch as the procession had been +stationary for nearly two minutes, and he walked quickly towards the +head of it, bowing and smiling at the Huberts as he passed. + +"What has happened? What can prevent them from continuing?" said +Angelique, all feverish from excitement, as if she were waiting for some +expected happiness that was to come to her from the other end that was +still in the church. + +Hubertine answered her gently, as usual: + +"There is no reason why they should run." + +"There is some obstruction evidently; perhaps it is a _reposoir_ that is +still unfinished," Hubert added. + +The young girls of the Society of the Blessed Virgin, the "daughters of +Mary," as they are called, had already commenced singing a canticle, and +their clear voices rose in the air, pure as crystal. Nearer and nearer +the double ranks caught the movement and recommenced their march. + + + +CHAPTER X + +After the civilians, the clergy began to leave the church, the lower +orders coming first. All, in surplices, covered their heads with their +caps, under the porch; and each one held a large, lighted wax taper; +those at the right in their right hand, and those at the left in their +left hand, outside the rank, so there was a double row of flame, almost +deadened by the brightness of the day. First were representatives from +the great seminaries, the parishes, and then collegiate churches; then +came the beneficed clergymen and clerks of the Cathedral, followed by +the canons in white pluvials. In their midst were the choristers, in +capes of red silk, who chanted the anthem in full voice, and to whom all +the clergy replied in lower notes. The hymn, "Pange Lingua," was grandly +given. The street was now filled with a rustling of muslin from the +flying winged sleeves of the surplices, which seemed pierced all over +with tiny stars of pale gold from the flames of the candles. + +"Oh!" at last Angelique half sighed, "there is Saint Agnes!" + +She smiled at the saint, borne by four clerks in white surplices, on a +platform of white velvet heavily ornamented with lace. Each year it was +like a new surprise to her, as she saw her guardian angel thus brought +out from the shadows where she had been growing old for centuries, quite +like another person under the brilliant sunshine, as if she were timid +and blushing in her robe of long, golden hair. She was really so old, +yet still very young, with her small hands, her little slender feet, her +delicate, girlish face, blackened by time. + +But Monseigneur was to follow her. Already the swinging of the censers +could be heard coming from the depths of the church. + +There was a slight murmuring of voices as Angelique repeated: + +"Monseigneur, Monseigneur," and with her eyes still upon the saint who +was going by, she recalled to mind at this moment the old histories. +The noble Marquesses d'Hautecoeur delivering Beaumont from the plague, +thanks to the intervention of Agnes, then Jean V and all those of his +race coming to kneel before her image, to pay their devotions to the +saint, and she seemed to see them all, the lords of the miracle, coming +one by one like a line of princes. + +A large space had been left empty. Then the chaplain charged with the +care of the crozier advanced, holding it erect, the curved part being +towards him. Afterward came two censer-bearers, who walked backwards and +swung the censers gently from side to side, each one having near him +an acolyte charged with the incense-box. There was a little difficulty +before they succeeded in passing by one of the divisions of the door the +great canopy of royal scarlet velvet, decorated with a heavy fringe of +gold. But the delay was short, order was quickly re-established, and the +designated officials took the supports in hand. Underneath, between his +deacons of honour, Monseigneur walked, bareheaded, his shoulders covered +with a white scarf, the two ends of which enveloped his hands, which +bore the Holy Sacrament as high as possible, and without touching it. + +Immediately the incense-bearers resumed their places, and the censers +sent out in haste, fell back again in unison with the little silvery +sound of their chains. + +But Angelique started as she thought, where had she ever seen anyone +who looked like Monseigneur? She certainly knew his face before, but +had never been struck by it as to-day! All heads were bowed in solemn +devotion. But she was so uneasy, she simply bent down and looked at him. +He was tall, slight, and noble-looking; superb in his physical strength, +notwithstanding his sixty years. His eyes were piercing as those of +an eagle; his nose, a little prominent, only seemed to increase the +sovereign authority of his face, which was somewhat softened by his +white hair, that was thick and curly. She noticed the pallor of his +complexion, and it seemed to her as if he suddenly flushed from some +unknown reason. Perhaps, however, it was simply a reflection from the +great golden-rayed sun which he carried in his covered hands, and which +placed him in a radiance of mystic light. + +Certainly, he to-day made her think of someone, but of whom? As soon as +he left the church, Monseigneur had commenced a psalm, which he recited +in a low voice, alternating the verses thereof with his deacons. And +Angelique trembled when she saw him turn his eyes towards their window, +for he seemed to her so severe, so haughty, and so cold, as if he were +condemning the vanity of all earthly affection. He turned his face +towards the three bands of ancient embroidery--Mary and the Angel, +Mary at the foot of the Cross, Mary being borne to Heaven--and his face +brightened. Then he lowered his eyes and fixed them upon her, but she +was so disturbed she could not tell whether his glance was harsh or +gentle; at all events it was only for a moment, for quickly regarding +the Holy Sacrament, his expression was lost in the light which came from +the great golden vessel. The censers still swung back and forth with a +measured rhythm, while a little blue cloud mounted in the air. + +But Angelique's heart now beat so rapidly she could scarcely keep still. +Behind the canopy she had just seen a chaplain, his fingers covered with +a scarf, who was carrying the mitre as devoutly as if it were a sacred +object, Saint Agnes flying heavenward with the two angels, the work of +her hands, and into each stitch of which she had put such deep love. +Then, among the laymen who followed, in the midst of functionaries, of +officers, of magistrates, she recognised Felicien in the front rank, +slight and graceful, with his curly hair, his rather large but straight +nose, and his black eyes, the expression of which was at the same time +proud and gentle. She expected him; she was not at all surprised to find +him transformed into a prince; her heart simply was overflowing with +joy. To the anxious look which he gave her, as of imploring forgiveness +for his falsehood, she replied by a lovely smile. + +"But look!" exclaimed Hubertine, astonished at what she saw, "is not +that the young man who came to our house about the mitre?" + +She had also recognised him, and was much disturbed when, turning +towards the young girl, she saw the latter transfigured, in ecstacy, +avoiding a reply. + +"Then he did not tell us the truth about himself? But why? Do you know +the reason? Tell me, my dear, do you know who this young man is?" + +Yes, perhaps in reality she did know. An inner voice answered all these +questions. But she dared not speak; she was unwilling to ask herself +anything. At the right time and at the proper place the truth would +be made clear. She thought it was approaching, and felt an increase of +pride of spirit, and of great love. + +"But what is it? What has happened?" asked Hubert, as he bent forward +and touched the shoulder of his wife. + +He was never present at the moment of an occurrence, but always appeared +to come from a reverie to the realisation of what passed about him. When +the young man was pointed out to him, he did not recognise him at all. + +"Is it he? I think not. No, you must be mistaken; it is not he." + +Then Hubertine acknowledged that she was not quite sure. At all events, +it was as well to talk no more about it, but she would inform herself +later on. But the procession, which had stopped again in order that +Monseigneur might incense the Holy Sacrament, which was placed among the +verdure of a temporary altar at the corner of the street, was now about +to move on again; and Angelique, whose hands seemed lost in the basket +on her lap, suddenly, in her delight and confusion, made a quick +movement, and carelessly threw out a great quantity of the perfumed +petals. At that instant Felicien approached. The leaves fell like a +little shower, and at last two of them fluttered, balanced themselves, +then quietly settled down on his hair. + +It was over. The canopy had disappeared round the corner of the Grand +Rue, the end of the cortege went by, leaving the pavements deserted, +hushed as if quieted by a dreamy faith, in the rather strong exhalation +of crushed roses. Yet one could still hear in the distance, growing +weaker and weaker by degrees, the silvery sound of the little chains of +the swinging censers. + +"Oh mother!" said Angelique, pleadingly, "do let us go into the church, +so as to see them all as they come back." + +Hubertine's first impulse was to refuse. But she, for her own part, was +very anxious to ascertain what she could about Felicien, so she replied: + +"Yes, after a while, if you really wish to do so." + +But they must, of course, wait a little. Angelique, after going to her +room for her hat, could not keep still. She returned every minute to the +great window, which was still wide open. She looked to the end of the +street inquiringly, then she lifted her eyes as if seeking something +in space itself; and so nervous was she that she spoke aloud, as she +mentally followed the procession step by step. + +"Now they are going down the Rue Basse. Ah! see, they must be turning on +the square before the Sous Prefecture. There is no end to all the long +streets in Beaumont-la-Ville. What pleasure can they take in seeing +Saint Agnes, I would like to know. All these petty tradesmen!" + +Above them, in the heavens, was a delicately rose-tinted cloud, with a +band of white and gold around it, and it seemed as if from it there +came a devotional peace and a hush of religious expectation. In the +immobility of the air one realised that all civil life was suspended, as +if God had left His house, and everyone was awaiting His return before +resuming their daily occupations. Opposite them the blue draperies of +the silversmith, and the red curtains of the wax-chandler, still barred +the interior of their shops and hid the contents from view. The streets +seemed empty; there was no reverberation from one to the other, except +that of the slow march of the clergy, whose progress could easily be +realised from every corner of the town. + +"Mother! mother! I assure you that now they are at the corner of the Rue +Magloire. They will soon come up the hill." + +She was mistaken, for it was only half-past six, and the procession +never came back before a quarter-past seven. She should have known well, +had she not been over-impatient, that the canopy must be only at the +lower wharf of the Ligneul. But she was too excited to think. + +"Oh! mother dear! _do_ hurry, or we may not find any places." + +"Come, make haste then, little one," at last Hubertine said, smiling in +spite of herself. "We shall certainly be obliged to wait a great while, +but never mind." + +"As for me, I will remain at home," said Hubert. "I can take down and +put away the embroidered panels, and then I will set the table for +dinner." + +The church seemed empty to them, as the Blessed Sacrament was no longer +there. All the doors were wide open, like those of a house in complete +disorder, where one is awaiting the return of the master. Very few +persons came in; the great altar alone, a sarcophagus of severe +Romanesque style, glittered as if burning at the end of the nave, +covered as it was with stars from the flame of many candles; all +the rest of the enormous building--the aisles, the chapels, and the +arches--seemed filled with shadow under the coming-on of the evening +darkness. + +Slowly, in order to gain a little patience, Angelique and Hubertine +walked round the edifice. Low down, it seemed as if crushed, thickset +columns supported the semicircular arches of the side-aisles. They +walked the whole length of the dark chapels, which were buried almost +as if they were crypts. Then, when they crossed over, before the great +entrance portal, under the triforium of the organ, they had a feeling of +deliverance as they raised their eyes towards the high, Gothic windows +of the nave, which shot up so gracefully above the heavy Romanesque +coursed work. But they continued by the southern side-aisle, and the +feeling of suffocation returned again. At the cross of the transept four +enormous pillars made the four corners, and rose to a great height, then +struck off to support the roof. There was still to be found a delicate +purple-tinted light, the farewell of the day, through the rose windows +of the side fronts. They had crossed the three steps which led to the +choir, then they turned by the circumference of the apse, which was +the very oldest part of the building, and seemed most sepulchral. +They stopped one moment and leaned against the ancient grating, which +entirely surrounded the choir, and which was most elaborately wrought, +that they might look at the flaming altar, where each separate light was +reflected in the old polished oak of the stalls, most marvellous stalls, +covered with rare sculptures. So at last they came back to the point +from which they started, lifting up their heads as if they breathed more +freely from the heights of the nave, which the growing shades at night +drove farther away, and enlarged the old walls, on which were faint +remains of paintings and of gold. + +"I know perfectly well that we are altogether too early," said +Hubertine. + +Angelique, without replying, said, as if to herself: + +"How grand it is!" + +It really seemed to her as if she had never known the church before, but +that she had just seen it for the first time. Her eyes wandered over the +motionless sea of chairs, then went to the depth of the chapels, where +she could only imagine were tombs and old funereal stones, on account +of the increased darkness therein. But she saw at last the Chapel +Hautecoeur, where she recognised the window that had been repaired, with +its Saint George, that now looked vague as a dream, in the dusk. She was +unusually happy. + +At last there was a gentle shaking through the whole building, and the +great clock struck. Then the bell began to ring. + +"Ah! now," she said, "look, for they are really coming up the Rue +Magloire." + +This time it was indeed so. A crowd invaded the church, the aisles were +soon filled, and one realised that each minute the procession approached +nearer and nearer. The noise increased with the pealing of the bells, +with a certain rushing movement of air by the great entrance, the portal +of which was wide open. + +Angelique, leaning on Hubertine's shoulder, made herself as tall as +possible by standing upon the points of her feet, as she looked towards +this arched open space, the roundness of whose top was perfectly defined +in the pale twilight of the Place du Cloitre. The first to appear was, +of course, the bearer of the Cross, accompanied by his two acolytes with +their candelabra; and behind them the Master of the Ceremonies hurried +along--the good Abbe Cornille, who now seemed quite out of breath and +overcome by fatigue. At the threshold of the door, the silhouette of +each new arrival was thrown out for a second, clear and strong, then +passed quickly away in the darkness of the interior. There were the +laymen, the schools, the associations, the fraternities, whose banners, +like sails, wavered for an instant, then suddenly vanished in the shade. +One saw again the pale "daughters of Mary," who, as they entered, still +sang with their voices like those of seraphim. + +The Cathedral had room for all. The nave was slowly filled, the men +being at the right and the women at the left. But night had come. The +whole place outside was dotted with bright points, hundreds of moving +lights, and soon it was the turn for the clergy, the tapers that were +held outside the ranks making a double yellow cord as they passed +through the door. The tapers seemed endless as they succeeded each other +and multiplied themselves; the great seminary, the parishes, and the +Cathedral; the choristers still singing the anthem, and the canons in +their white pluvials. Then little by little the church became lighted +up, seemed inhabited, illuminated, overpowered by hundreds of stars, +like a summer sky. + +Two chairs being unoccupied, Angelique stood upon one of them. + +"Get down, my dear," whispered Hubertine, "for that is forbidden." + +But she tranquilly remained there, and did not move. + +"Why is it forbidden? I must see, at all events. Oh! how exquisite all +this is!" + +At last she prevailed upon her mother to get upon the other chair. + +Now the whole Cathedral was glowing with a reddish yellow light. This +billow of candles which crossed it illuminated the lower arches of the +side-aisles, the depth of the chapels, and glittered upon the glass +of some shrine or upon the gold of some tabernacle. The rays even +penetrated into the apse, and the sepulchral crypts were brightened +up by them. The choir was a mass of flame, with its altar on fire, its +glistening stalls, and its old railing, whose ornamentation stood out +boldly. And the flight of the nave was stronger marked than ever, with +the heavy curved pillars below, supporting the round arches, while +above, the numbers of little columns grew smaller and smaller as they +burst forth among the broken arches of the ogives, like an inexpressible +declaration of faith and love which seemed to come from the lights. +In the centre, under the roof, along the ribs of the nave, there was +a yellow cloud, a thick colour of wax, from the multitude of little +tapers. + +But now, above the sound of feet and the moving of chairs, one heard +again the falling of the chains of the censers. Then the organ pealed +forth majestically, a glorious burst of music that filled to overflowing +the highest arches as if with the rumbling of thunder. It was at this +instant that Monseigneur arrived on the Place du Cloitre. The statue of +Saint Agnes had reached the apse, still borne by the surpliced clerks, +and her face looked very calm under the light, as if she were more than +happy to return to her dreams of four centuries. At last, preceded by +the crosier, and followed by the mitre, Monseigneur entered with his +deacons under the canopy, still having his two hands covered with a +white scarf, and holding the Blessed Sacrament in the same position +as at first. The canopy, which was borne down the central aisle, was +stopped at the railing of the choir, and there, on account of a certain +unavoidable confusion, the Bishop was for a moment made to approach the +persons who formed his suite. Since Felicien had reappeared, Angelique +had looked at him constantly. It so happened that on account of the +pressure he was placed a little at the right of the canopy, and at that +moment she saw very near together the white head of Monseigneur and the +blonde head of the young man. That glance was a revelation; a sudden +light came to her eyes; she joined her hands together as she said aloud: + +"Oh! Monseigneur, the son of Monseigneur!" + +Her secret escaped her. It was an involuntary cry, the certainty which +revealed itself in this sudden fact of their resemblance. Perhaps, in +the depths of her mind, she already knew it, but she would never have +dared to have said so; whilst now it was self-evident, a fact of which +there could be no denial. From everything around her, from her own +soul, from inanimate objects, from past recollections, her cry seemed +repeated. + +Hubertine, quite overcome, said in a whisper, "This young man is the son +of Monseigneur?" + +Around these two the crowd had gradually accumulated. They were well +known and were greatly admired; the mother still adorable in her simple +toilette of linen, the daughter with the angelic grace of a cherubim, in +her gown of white foulard, as light as a feather. They were so handsome +and in such full view, as they stood upon their chairs, that from every +direction eyes were turned towards them, and admiring glances given +them. + +"But yes, indeed, my good lady," said the _mere_ Lemballeuse, who +chanced to be in the group; "but yes, he is the son of Monseigneur. But +how does it happen that you have not already heard of it? And not only +that, but he is a wonderfully handsome young man, and so rich! Rich! +Yes indeed, he could buy the whole town if he wished to do so. He has +millions and millions!" + +Hubertine turned very pale as she listened. + +"You must have heard his history spoken of?" continued the beggar-woman. +"His mother died soon after his birth, and it was on that account that +Monseigneur concluded to become a clergyman. Now, however, after all +these years, he sent for his son to join him. He is, in fact, Felicien +VII d'Hautecoeur, with a title as if he were a real prince." + +Then Hubertine was intensely grieved. But Angelique beamed with joy +before the commencement of the realisation of her dream. She was not in +the slightest degree astonished, for she had always known that he would +be the richest, the noblest, and the handsomest of men. So her joy was +intense and perfect, without the slightest anxiety for the future, or +suspicion of any obstacle that could possibly come between them. In +short, he would in his turn now make himself known, and would tell +everything. As she had fancied, gold would stream down with the little +flickering flames of the candles. The organs would send forth their +most glorious music on the occasion of their betrothal. The line of +the Hautecoeurs would continue royally from the beginning of the +legend--Norbert I, Jean V, Felicien III, Jean XII, then the last, +Felicien VII, who just turned towards her his noble face. He was the +descendant of the cousins of the Virgin, the master, the superb son, +showing himself in all his beauty at the side of his father. + +Just then Felicien smiled sweetly at her, and she did not see the angry +look of Monseigneur, who had remarked her standing on the chair, above +the crowd, blushing in her pride and love. + +"Oh, my poor dear child!" sighed Hubertine. + +But the chaplain and the acolytes were ranged on the right and the left, +and the first deacon having taken the Holy Sacrament from the hands +of Monseigneur, he placed it on the altar. It was the final +Benediction--the _Tantum ergo_ sung loudly by the choristers, the +incenses of the boxes burning in the censers, the strange, brusque +silence during the prayer--and in the midst of the lighted church, +overflowing with clergy and with people, under the high, springing +arches, Monseigneur remounted to the altar, took again in his two hands +the great golden sun, which he waved back and forth in the air three +times, with a slow sign of the Cross. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +That same evening, on returning from church, Angelique thought to +herself, "I shall see him again very soon, for he will certainly be in +the Clos-Marie, and I will go there to meet him." + +Without having exchanged a word with each other, they appeared to have +silently arranged this interview. The family dined as usual in the +kitchen, but it was eight o'clock before they were seated at the table. +Hubert, quite excited by this day of recreation and of fete, was the +only one who had anything to say. Hubertine, unusually quiet, scarcely +replied to her husband, but kept her looks fixed upon the young girl, +who ate heartily and with a good appetite, although she scarcely seemed +to pay any attention to the food, or to know that she put her fork to +her mouth, so absorbed was she by her fancies. And under this candid +forehead, as under the crystal of the purest water, Hubertine read her +thoughts clearly, and followed them as they formed themselves in her +mind one by one. + +At nine o'clock they were greatly surprised by a ringing of the +door-bell. It proved to be the Abbe Cornille, who, notwithstanding his +great fatigue, had come to tell them that Monseigneur the Bishop had +greatly admired the three old panels of marvellous embroidery. + +"Yes, indeed! And he spoke of them so enthusiastically to me that I was +sure it would please you to know it." + +Angelique, who had roused up on hearing the name of Monseigneur, fell +back again into her reveries as soon as the conversation turned to the +procession. Then after a few minutes she got up. + +"But where are you going, dear?" asked Hubertine. + +The question startled her, as if she herself knew not why she had left +her seat. + +"I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired." + +In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason +that influenced her. It was the need of being by herself, the haste of +communing alone with her great happiness. + +When she held her in her arms pressed against her breast, she felt that +she was trembling. She almost seemed to avoid her usual evening kiss. +Looking anxiously in her face, Hubertine read in her eyes the feverish +expectation connected with the hoped-for meeting. It was all so evident +to her that she promised herself to keep a close watch. + +"Be good, dear, and sleep well." + +But already, after a hurried good-night to Hubert and to the Abbe +Cornille, Angelique was halfway up the stairs, quite disturbed, as she +realised that her secret had almost escaped her. Had her mother held her +against her heart one second longer, she would have told her everything. +When she had shut herself in her own room, and doubly locked her door, +the light troubled her, and she blew out her candle. The moon, which +rose later and later, had not yet appeared above the horizon, and the +night was very dark. Without undressing, she seated herself before the +open window, looked out into the deep shade, and waited patiently +for the hours to pass. The minutes went by rapidly, as she was fully +occupied with the one idea that as soon as the clock struck for midnight +she would go down to find Felicien. As it would be the most natural +thing in the world to do, she traced out her way, step by step, and +every movement she would make with the most perfect composure. + +It was not very late when she heard the Abbe Cornille take his leave. +Soon after, the Huberts, in their turn, came upstairs. Then it seemed +to her as if someone came out of their chamber, and with furtive steps +moved cautiously as far as the foot of the stairway, then stopped, as if +listening for a moment before returning. Then the house soon sank, as if +in the quiet of a deep sleep. + +When the great church clock struck twelve, Angelique left her seat. +"Now I must go, for he is waiting for me." She unlocked the door, and, +passing out, neglected closing it after her. Going down the first flight +of stairs, she stopped as she approached the room of the Huberts, +but heard nothing--nothing but the indefinable quivering of silence. +Moreover, she was neither in a hurry, nor had she any fear, for being +totally unconscious of any wrong intentions, she felt at perfect ease. +It would have been quite impossible for her not to have gone down. +An inward power directed and led her, and it all seemed so simple and +right; she would have smiled at the idea of a hidden danger. Once in the +lower rooms, she passed through the kitchen to go out into the garden, +and again forgot to fasten the shutters. Then she walked rapidly towards +the little gate of the Clos-Marie, which she also left wide open after +her. Notwithstanding the obscurity and the dense shadows in the field, +she did not hesitate an instant, but went direct to the little plank +which served as a bridge to the Chevrotte, crossed it, guiding herself +by feeling the way, as if in a familiar place, where every tree and bush +were well known to her. Turning to the right, under a great willow-tree, +she had only to put out her hands to have them earnestly grasped by +Felicien, whom she knew would be there in waiting for her. + +For a minute, without speaking, Angelique pressed Felicien's hands in +hers. They could not see each other, for the sky was covered with a +misty cloud of heat, and the pale moon which had just risen, had not yet +lighted it up. At length she spoke in the darkness, her heart filled to +overflowing with her great happiness: + +"Oh, my dear seigneur, how I love you, and how grateful I am to you!" + +She laughed aloud at the realisation of the fact that at last she knew +him; she thanked him for being younger, more beautiful, and richer even +than she had expected him to be. Her gaiety was charming; it was a +cry of astonishment and of gratitude before this present of love, this +fulfillment of her dreams. + +"You are the king. You are my master; and lo! here am I, your slave. I +belong to you henceforth, and my only regret is that I am of so little +worth. But I am proud of being yours; it is sufficient for you to love +me, and that I may be in my turn a queen. It was indeed well that I knew +you were to come, and so waited for you; my heart is overflowing with +joy since finding that you are so great, so far above me. Ah! my dear +seigneur, how I thank you, and how I love you." + +Gently he put his arm around her as he said: + +"Come and see where I live." + +He made her cross the Clos-Marie, among the wild grass and herbs, and +then she understood for the first time in what way he had come every +night into the field from the park of the Bishop's Palace. It was +through an old gate, that had been unused for a long time, and which +this evening he had left half open. Taking Angelique's hand, he led her +in that way into the great garden of the Monseigneur. + +The rising moon was half-hidden in the sky, under a veil of warm mist, +and its rays fell down upon them with a white, mysterious light. There +were no stars visible, but the whole vault of heaven was filled with a +dim lustre, which quietly penetrated everything in this serene night. +Slowly they walked along on the borders of the Chevrotte, which crossed +the park; but it was no longer the rapid rivulet rushing over a pebbly +descent--it was a quiet, languid brook, gliding along through clumps +of trees. Under this mass of luminous vapour, between the bushes which +seemed to bathe and float therein, it was like an Elysian stream which +unfolded itself before them. + +Angelique soon resumed her gay chattering. + +"I am so proud and so happy to be here on your arm." + +Felicien, touched by such artless, frank simplicity, listened with +delight as she talked unrestrainedly, concealing nothing, but telling +all her inmost thoughts, as she opened her heart to him. Why should she +even think of keeping anything back? She had never harmed anyone, so she +had only good things to say. + +"Ah, my dear child, it is I who ought to be exceedingly grateful to you, +inasmuch as you are willing to love me a little in so sweet a way. Tell +me once more how much you love me. Tell me exactly what you thought when +you found out at last who I really was." + +But with a pretty, impatient movement she interrupted him. + +"No, no; let us talk of you, only of you. Am I really of any +consequence? At all events, what matters it who I am or what I think! +For the moment you are the only one of importance." + +And keeping as near him as possible, going more slowly along the sides +of the enchanted river, she questioned him incessantly, wishing to learn +everything about him, of his childhood, his youth, and the twenty years +he had passed away from his father. "I already know that your mother +died when you were an infant, and that you grew up under the care of an +uncle who is a clergyman. I also know that Monseigneur refused to see +you again." + +Then Felicien answered, speaking in a very low tone, with a voice that +seemed as if it came from the far-away past. + +"Yes, my father idolised my mother, and it seemed to him as if I were +guilty, since my birth had cost her her life. My uncle brought me up +in entire ignorance of my family, harshly too, as if I had been a poor +child confided to his care. I had no idea of my true position until very +recently. It is scarcely two years, in fact, since it was revealed to +me. But I was not at all surprised in hearing the truth; it seemed as +if I had always half-realised that a great fortune belonged to me. All +regular work wearied me; I was good for nothing except to run about the +fields and amuse myself. At last I took a great fancy for the painted +windows of our little church." Angelique interrupted him by laughing +gaily, and he joined her in her mirth for a moment. + +"I became a workman like yourself. I had fully decided to earn my living +by painting on glass, and was studying for that purpose, when all this +fortune poured down upon me. My father was intensely disappointed when +my uncle wrote him that I was a good-for-nothing fellow, and that I +would never consent to enter into the service of the Church. It had been +his expressed wish that I should become a clergyman; perhaps he had +an idea that in so doing I could atone for the death of my mother. He +became, however, reconciled at last, and wished for me to be here +and remain near him. Ah! how good it is to live, simply to live," he +exclaimed. "Yes, to live, to love, and to be loved in return." + +This trembling cry, which resounded in the clear night air, vibrated +with the earnest feeling of his healthy youth. It was full of passion, +of sympathy for his dead mother, and of the intense ardour he had thrown +into this, his first love, born of mystery. It filled all his spirit, +his beauty, his loyalty, his ignorance, and his earnest desire of life. + +"Like you," he continued, "I was, indeed, expecting the unknown, and the +evening when you first appeared at the window I also recognised you at +once. Tell me all that you have ever thought, and what you were in the +habit of doing in the days that have passed." But again she refused, +saying gently: + +"No; speak only of yourself. I am eager to know every petty incident of +your life, so please keep nothing back. In that way I shall realise +that you belong to me, and that I love you in the past as well as in the +present." + +She never would have been fatigued in listening to him as he talked +of his life, but was in a state of joyous ecstasy in thus becoming +thoroughly acquainted with him, adoring him like a little child at +the feet of some saint. Neither of them wearied of repeating the same +things: how much they loved each other and how dearly they were beloved +in return. The same words returned constantly to their lips, but they +always seemed new, as they assumed unforeseen, immeasurable depths of +meaning. Their happiness increased as they thus made known the secrets +of their hearts, and lingered over the music of the words that passed +their lips. He confessed to her the charm her voice had always been +to him, so much so that as soon as he heard it he became at once her +devoted slave. She acknowledged the delicious fear she always had at +seeing his pale face flush at the slightest anger or displeasure. + +They had now left the misty banks of the Chevrotte, and arm-in-arm they +entered under the shadows of the great elm-trees. + +"Oh! this beautiful garden," whispered Angelique, happy to breathe in +the freshness which fell from the trees. "For years I have wished to +enter it; and now I am here with you--yes, I am here." + +It did not occur to her to ask him where he was leading her, but she +gave herself up to his guidance, under the darkness of these centenarian +trees. The ground was soft under their feet; the archway of leaves above +them was high, like the vaulted ceiling of a church. There was neither +sound nor breath, only the beating of their own hearts. + +At length he pushed open the door of a little pavilion, and said to her: +"Go in; this is my home." + +It was there that his father had seen fit to install him all by himself, +in this distant corner of the park. On the first floor there was a hall, +and one very large room, which was now lighted by a great lamp. Above +was a complete little apartment. + +"You can see for yourself," he continued smilingly, "that you are at the +house of an artisan. This is my shop." + +It was a working-room indeed; the caprice of a wealthy young man, +who amused himself in his leisure hours by painting on glass. He had +re-found the ancient methods of the thirteenth century, so that he could +fancy himself as being one of the primitive glass-workers, producing +masterpieces with the poor, unfinished means of the older time. An +ancient table answered all his purposes. It was coated with moist, +powdered chalk, upon which he drew his designs in red, and where he +cut the panes with heated irons, disdaining the modern use of a diamond +point. The muffle, a little furnace made after the fashion of an old +model, was just now quite heated; the baking of some picture was going +on, which was to be used in repairing another stained window in the +Cathedral; and in cases on every side were glasses of all colours which +he had ordered to be made expressly for him, in blue, yellow, green, and +red, in many lighter tints, marbled, smoked, shaded, pearl-coloured, and +black. But the walls of the room were hung with admirable stuffs, and +the working materials disappeared in the midst of a marvellous luxury +of furniture. In one corner, on an old tabernacle which served as a +pedestal, a great gilded statue of the Blessed Virgin seemed to smile +upon them. + +"So you can work--you really can work," repeated Angelique with childish +joy. + +She was very much amused with the little furnace, and insisted upon it +that he should explain to her everything connected with his labour. +Why he contented himself with the examples of the old masters, who used +glass coloured in the making, which he shaded simply with black; the +reason he limited himself to little, distinct figures, to the gestures +and draperies of which he gave a decided character; his ideas upon the +art of the glass-workers, which in reality declined as soon as they +began to design better, to paint, and to enamel it; and his final +opinion that a stained-glass window should be simply a transparent +mosaic, in which the brightest colours should be arranged in the most +harmonious order, so as to make a delicate, shaded bouquet. But at this +moment little did she care for the art in itself. These things had but +one interest for her now--that they were connected with him, that they +seemed to bring her nearer to him and to strengthen the tie between +them. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, "how happy we shall be together. You will paint, +while I embroider." + +He had just retaken her hands, in the centre of this great room, in +the luxury of which she was quite at her ease, as it seemed to be her +natural surrounding, where her grace would be fully developed. Both of +them remained silent for a moment. Then she was, as usual, the first to +speak. + +"Now everything is decided upon, is it not?" + +"What?" he smilingly asked, "what do you mean?" + +"Our marriage." + +He hesitated an instant. His face, which had been very pale, flushed +quickly. She was disturbed at such a change. + +"Have I made you angry in any way?" + +But he had already conquered himself, and pressed her hands tenderly, +with a grasp that seemed to cover everything. + +"Yes, it is decided upon, and it is sufficient for you to wish for a +thing that it should be done, no matter how many obstacles may oppose +it. Henceforward my one great desire in life will be to obey you." + +Then her face beamed with perfect happiness and delight. + +She did not have a single doubt. All seemed to her quite natural, to be +so well-arranged that it could be finished on the morrow with the same +ease as in many of the miracles of the "Golden Legend." The idea never +occurred to her that there should be the slightest hindrance or the +least delay. Since they really loved each other, why should they be +any longer separated? It was the most simple thing in the world for two +persons who loved each other to be married. She was so secure in her +happiness that she was perfectly calm. + +"Since it is agreed upon," she said jokingly, "give me your hand." + +He took her little hand and kissed it, as he said: + +"It is all arranged." + +She then hastened to go away, in the fear of being surprised by the +dawn, and also impatient to relieve her mind of her secret. He wished to +accompany her. + +"No, no," she replied. "We should not get back before daylight. I can +easily find the way. Good-bye until to-morrow." + +"Until to-morrow, then." + +Felicien obeyed, and watched Angelique as she ran, first under the shady +elms, then along the banks of the Chevrotte, which were now bathed in +light. Soon she closed the gate of the park, then darted across the +Clos-Marie, through the high grass. While on her way, she thought it +would be impossible to wait until sunrise, but that she would rap at the +door of the Huberts' room as soon as she reached home, that she might +wake them up and tell them everything. She was in such an expansion of +happiness, such a turmoil of sincerity, that she realised that she was +incapable of keeping five minutes longer this great secret which had +been hers for so long a time. She entered into their garden and closed +the gate. + +And there, near the Cathedral, Angelique saw Hubertine, who waited for +her in the night, seated upon the stone bench, which was surrounded by +a small cluster of lilac-bushes. Awakened, warned by some inexpressible +feeling, she had gone upstairs, then down again, and on finding all the +doors open, that of the chamber as well as that of the house, she had +understood what had happened. So, uncertain what it was best to do, or +where to go, in the fear lest she might aggravate matters, she sat down +anxiously. + +Angelique immediately ran to her, without embarrassment, kissed her +repeatedly, her heart beating with joy as she laughed merrily at the +thought that she had no longer need of hiding anything from her. + +"Oh, mother mine, everything is arranged! We are to be married very +soon, and I am so happy." + +Before replying, Hubertine examined her closely. But her fears vanished +instantly before the limpid eyes and the pure lips of this exquisite +young girl. Yet she was deeply troubled, and great tears rolled down her +cheeks. + +"My poor, dear child," she whispered, as she had done the previous +evening in church. + +Astonished to see her in such a way, she who was always so equable, who +never wept, Angelique exclaimed: + +"But what is the matter, mother? It is, indeed, true that I have not +done right, inasmuch as I have not made you my confidante. But you would +pardon me if you knew how much I have suffered from it, and how keen +my remorse has been. Since at first I did not speak, later on I did not +dare to break the silence. Will you forgive me?" + +She had seated herself near her mother, and had placed her arm +caressingly around her waist. The old bench seemed almost hidden in this +moss-covered corner of the Cathedral. Above their heads the lilacs made +a little shade, while near them was the bush of eglantine which the +young girl had set out in the hope that it might bear roses; but, having +been neglected for some time, it simply vegetated, and had returned to +its natural state. + +"Mother, let me tell you everything now. Come, listen to me, please." + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Then, in a low tone, Angelique began her story. She related in a flow +of inexhaustible words all that had happened, calling up the most minute +details, growing more and more excited at the recollection of them. She +omitted nothing, but searched her memory as if it were for a confession. +She was not at all embarrassed, although her cheeks grew very red and +her eyes sparkled with flashes of pride; yet she did not raise her +voice, but continued to talk earnestly in a half-whisper. + +At length Hubertine interrupted her, speaking also very low: + +"Ah, my dear! Now you are too excited. You have indeed to correct +yourself, for you are carried away by your feelings, as if by a great +wind. Ah, my vain, my headstrong child, you are always the same little +girl who refused to wash up the kitchen floor, and who kissed her own +hands." + +Angelique could not prevent herself from laughing. + +"No, do not laugh. It may be that by-and-by you will not have tears +enough to weep. My poor darling, this marriage can never take place." + +Again her gaiety burst out in a long musical laugh. + +"But mother, mother, what are you saying? Do you wish to punish me by +teasing me? It is a very simple matter. This evening Felicien is to talk +of it with his father. To-morrow he will come to arrange everything with +you." + +Could it be true that she believed all this? Hubertine was distressed, +and knew not what to do. At last she concluded it was best to be +pitiless and tell her; that it would be impossible for a little +embroiderer without money and without name to marry Felicien +d'Hautecoeur. A young man who was worth so many millions! The last +descendant of one of the oldest families of France! No, that could never +be. + +But at each new obstacle Angelique tranquilly replied: "But why not?" +It would be a real scandal, a marriage beyond all ordinary conditions +of happiness. Did she hope, then, to contend against all the world? "But +why not?" Monseigneur is called very strict and very haughty, proud +of his name, and severe in his criticisms in regard to all marks of +affection. Could she dare to expect to bend him? + +"But why not?" And, unshakable in her faith, in her firm, ingenuous +manner she said: "It is very odd, dear mother, that you should think +people all so bad! Especially when I have just assured you that +everything is well under way, and is sure to come out all right. Do you +not recollect that only two months ago you scolded me, and ridiculed +my plans? Yet I was right, and everything that I expected has come to +pass." + +"But, unhappy child, wait for the end!" + +Hubertine now thought of the past, and was angry with herself, as she +now reflected, more bitterly than ever before, that Angelique had +been brought up in such ignorance. Again she predicted to her the +hard lessons of the reality of life, and she would have liked to have +explained to her some of the cruelties and abominations of the world, +but, greatly embarrassed, she could not find the necessary words. What +a grief it would be to her if some day she were forced to accuse herself +of having brought about the unhappiness of this child, who had been kept +alone as a recluse, and allowed to dwell in the continued falsehood of +imagination and dreams! + +"Listen to me, dearest. You certainly would not wish to marry this young +man against the wish of us all, and without the consent of his father?" + +Angelique had grown very serious. She looked her mother in the face, and +in a serious tone replied: + +"Why should I not do so? I love him, and he loves me." + +With a pang of anguish, Hubertine took her again in her arms, clasped +her tenderly, but convulsively, and looked at her earnestly, but without +speaking. The pale moon had disappeared from sight behind the Cathedral, +and the flying, misty clouds were now delicately coloured in the heavens +by the approach of the dawn. They were both of them enveloped in this +purity of the early morn, in the great fresh silence, which was alone +disturbed by the little chirping of the just-awakening birds. + +"But alas! my dear child, happiness is only found in obedience and in +humility. For one little hour of passion, or of pride, we sometimes are +obliged to suffer all our lives. If you wish to be contented on this +earth, be submissive, be ready to renounce and give up everything." + +But feeling that she was still rebellious under her embrace, that which +she had never said to anyone, that which she still hesitated to speak +of, almost involuntarily escaped from her lips: + +"Listen to me once more, my dear child. You think that we are happy, +do you not, your father and I. We should indeed be so had not our lives +been embittered by a great vexation." + +She lowered her voice still more, as she related with a trembling breath +their history. The marriage without the consent of her mother, the death +of their infant, and their vain desire to have another child, which was +evidently the punishment of their fault. Still, they adored each other. +They had lived by working, had wanted for nothing; but their regret for +the child they had lost was so ever-present that they would have been +wretchedly unhappy, would have quarrelled, and perhaps even have been +separated, had it not been that her husband was so thoroughly good, +while for herself she had always tried to be just and reasonable. + +"Reflect, my daughter. Do not put any stumbling-block in your path which +will make you suffer later on. Be humble, obey, check the impulse of +your heart as much as possible." + +Subdued at last, Angelique restrained her tears, but grew very pale as +she listened, and interrupted her by saying: + +"Mother, you pain me terribly. I love him, and I am sure that he loves +me." + +Then she allowed her tears to flow. She was quite overcome by all she +had listened to, softened, and with an expression in her eyes as if +deeply wounded by the glimpse given her of the probable truth of the +case. Yet she could suffer, and would willingly die, if need be, for her +love. + +Then Hubertine decided to continue. + +"I do not wish to pain you too deeply at once, yet it is absolutely +necessary that you should know the whole truth. Last evening, after you +had gone upstairs, I had quite a talk with the Abbe Cornille, and he +explained to me why Monseigneur, after great hesitation, had at last +decided to call his son to Beaumont. One of his greatest troubles was +the impetuosity of the young man, the uncontrollable haste which he +manifested to plunge into the excitement of life, without listening to +the advice of his elders. After having with pain renounced all hope of +making him a priest, his father found that he could not establish him in +any occupation suitable to his rank and his fortune. He would never be +anything but a headstrong fellow, restless, wandering, yielding to his +artistic tastes when so inclined. He was alarmed at seeing in his son +traits of character like those from which he himself had so cruelly +suffered. At last, from fear that he might take some foolish step, and +fall in love with someone beneath him in position, he wished to have him +here, that he might be married at once." + +"Very well," said Angelique, who did not yet understand. + +"Such a marriage had been proposed even before his arrival, and all +preliminaries were settled yesterday, so that the Abbe Cornille formally +announced that in the autumn Felicien would wed Mademoiselle Claire de +Voincourt. You know very well the Hotel de Voincourt there, close to the +Bishop's Palace. The family are very intimate with Monseigneur. On both +sides, nothing better could be hoped for, either in the way of name or +of fortune. The Abbe himself highly approves of the union." + +The young girl no longer listened to these reasons of the fitness of +things. Suddenly an image appeared to come before her eyes--that of +Claire. She saw her, as she had occasionally had a glimpse of her in +the alleys of the Park during the winter, or as she had seen her on fete +days in the Cathedral. A tall young lady, a brunette, very handsome, of +a much more striking beauty than her own, and with a royal bearing and +appearance. Notwithstanding her haughty air, she was said to be very +good and kind. + +"So he is to marry this elegant young lady, who is not only beautiful +but very rich," she murmured. + +Then, as if suddenly pierced by a sharp agony, she exclaimed: + +"He uttered a falsehood! He did not tell me this!" + +She recollected now the momentary hesitation of Felicien, the rush +of blood which had coloured his cheeks when she spoke to him of their +marriage. The shock was so great that she turned deadly pale, and her +head fell heavily on her mother's shoulders. + +"My darling, my dear darling! This is, indeed, a cruel thing; I know it +well. But it would have been still worse had you waited. Take courage, +then, and draw at once the knife from the wound. Repeat to yourself, +whenever the thought of this young man comes to you, that never would +Monseigneur, the terrible Jean XII, whose intractable pride, it appears, +is still recollected by all the world, give his son, the last of his +race, to a little embroiderer, found under a gateway and adopted by poor +people like ourselves." + +In her weakness, Angelique heard all this without making any objection. +What was it she felt pass over her face? A cold breath coming from a +distance, from far above the roofs of the houses, seemed to freeze her +blood. Was it true that her mother was telling her of this misery of the +world, this sad reality, in the same way that parents relate the story +of the wolf to unreasonable children? She would never forget the shock +and the grief of this first experience of a bitter disappointment. Yet, +however, she already excused Felicien. He had told no falsehood; he +simply had been silent. Were his father to wish him to marry this young +girl, no doubt he would refuse to do so. But as yet he had not dared to +rebel. As he had not said anything to her of the matter, perhaps it was +because he had just made up his mind as to what it was best for him to +do. Before this sudden vanishing away of her air-castles, pale and weak +from the rude touch of the actual life, she still kept her faith, +and trusted, in spite of all, in the future realisation of her dream. +Eventually the fair promises for the future would come to pass, even +although now her pride was crushed and she sank down into a state of +humiliation and resignation. + +"Mother, it is true I have done wrong, but I will never sin again. I +promise you that I will be patient, and submit myself without a murmur +of revolt to whatever Heaven wishes me to be." + +It was true grace which spoke within her. The trial was great, but she +was able to conquer, from the effects of the education she had received +and the excellent example of the home life in which she had grown up. +Why should she doubt the morrow, when until this present moment everyone +near her had been so generous and so tender towards her? She prayed +that she might be able to have the wisdom of Catherine, the meekness +of Elizabeth, the chastity of Agnes; and re-comforted by the aid of +the saints, she was sure that they alone would help her to triumph over +every trouble. Was it not true that her old friends the Cathedral, the +Clos-Marie, and the Chevrotte, the little fresh house of the Huberts, +the Huberts themselves, all who loved her, would defend her, without her +being obliged to do anything, except to be obedient and good? + +"Then, dear child, you promise me that you will never act contrary to +our wishes, and above all against those of Monseigneur?" + +"Yes, mother, I promise." + +"You also promise me not to see this young man again, and no longer to +indulge in the foolish idea of marrying him?" + +At this question her courage failed her. She almost felt the spirit +of rebellion rise again within her, as she thought of the depth of her +love. But in a moment she bowed her head and was definitely conquered. + +"I promise to do nothing to bring about a meeting with him, and to take +no steps towards our marriage." + +Hubertine, touched to the heart, pressed the young girl most +affectionately in her arms as she thanked her for her obedience. Oh! +what a dreadful thing it was, when wishing to do good to the child she +so tenderly loved, she was forced to make her suffer so intensely. She +was exhausted, and rose up hastily, surprised that daylight had come. +The little cry of the birds had increased in every direction, although +as yet none were to be seen in flight. In the sky the clouds, delicate +as gauze, seemed to float away in the limpid blueness of the atmosphere. + +Then Angelique, whose look had mechanically fallen upon her wild +rose-bush, at last noticed it with its puny leaves. She smiled sadly as +she said: + +"You were right, mother dear; it will never be in blossom." + +At seven o'clock in the morning Angelique was at her work as usual. The +days followed each other, and every forenoon found her seated before the +chasuble she had left on the previous evening. Nothing appeared to be +changed outwardly; she kept strictly her promise, shut herself up, and +made no attempt whatever to see Felicien. This did not seem to depress +her at all, but she kept her bright, youthful look, smiling sweetly +at Hubertine when occasionally she saw her eyes fixed upon her as if +astonished. However, in this enforced silence she thought only of him; +he was always in her mind. + +Her hope remained firm, and she was sure that in spite of all obstacles +everything would come out all right in the end. In fact, it was this +feeling of certainty that gave her such an air of courage, of haughty +rectitude, and of justice. + +Hubert from time to time scolded her. + +"You are over-doing, my dear; you are really growing pale. I hope at +least that you sleep well at night." + +"Oh yes, father! Like a log! Never in my life did I feel better than +now." + +But Hubertine, becoming anxious in her turn, proposed that they should +take a little vacation, and said: + +"If you would like it, my child, we will shut up the house, and we will +go, all three of us, to Paris for a while." + +"Oh! mother mine, of what are you thinking? What would become of all our +orders for work? You know I am never in better health than when closely +occupied." + +In reality, Angelique simply awaited a miracle, some manifestation of +the Invisible which would give her to Felicien. In addition to the +fact that she had promised to do nothing, what need was there of her +striving, since in the beyond some unknown power was always working for +her? So, in her voluntary inaction, while feigning indifference, she was +continually on the watch, listening to the voices of all that quivered +around her, and to the little familiar sounds of this circle in which +she lived and which would assuredly help her. Something must eventually +come from necessity. As she leaned over her embroidery-frame, not far +from the open window, she lost not a trembling of the leaves, not a +murmur of the Chevrotte. The slightest sighs from the Cathedral came to +her, magnified tenfold by the eagerness of her attention; she even heard +the slippers of the beadle as he walked round the altar when putting +out the tapers. Again at her side she felt the light touch of mysterious +wings; she knew that she was aided by the unknown, and at times she even +turned suddenly, thinking that a phantom had whispered in her ear the +way of gaining the hoped-for victory. But days passed and no change +came. + +At night, that she need not break her word, Angelique at first did not +go out upon the balcony, for fear of being tempted to rejoin Felicien, +were she to see him below her. She remained quietly waiting in her +chamber. Then, as the leaves even scarcely stirred, but seemed to sleep, +she ventured out, and began to question the dark shadows as before. + +From whence would the miracle come? Without doubt, in the Bishop's +garden would be seen a flaming hand, which would beckon to her to +approach. + +Or, perhaps, the sign would appear in the Cathedral, the great organs of +which would peal forth, and would call her to the altar. + +Nothing would have surprised her: neither the doves of the "Golden +Legend" bringing the words of benediction, nor the intervention of +saints, who would enter through the walls, to tell her that Monseigneur +wished to see her. The only thing at which she wondered was the slowness +of the working of the marvel. Like the day, the nights succeeded nights, +yet nothing, nothing manifested itself. + +At the close of the second week, that which astonished Angelique above +all was that she had not seen Felicien. She, it was true, had pledged +herself to take no steps towards meeting him, yet, without having said +so to anyone, she thought he would do all in his power to find her. But +the Clos-Marie remained deserted, and he no longer walked among the +wild grasses therein. Not once during the past fortnight had she had a +glimpse of him by day, or even seen his shadow in the evening. Still +her faith remained unshaken; that he did not come was simply that he +was occupied in making his preparations to rejoin her. However, as her +surprise increased there was at length mingled with it a beginning of +anxiety. + +At last, one evening the dinner was sad at the embroiderer's, and as +soon as it was over Hubert went out, under the pretext of having an +important commission to attend to, so Hubertine remained alone with +Angelique in the kitchen. She looked at her for a long time with +moistened eyes, touched by such courage. During the past fortnight not +one word had been exchanged between them in reference to those things +with which their hearts were full, and she was deeply moved by the +strength of character and loyalty her daughter displayed in thus keeping +her promise. A sudden feeling of deep tenderness made her open her arms, +and the young girl threw herself upon her breast, and in silence they +clasped each other in a loving embrace. + +Then, when Hubertine was able to speak, she said: + +"Ah! my poor child, I have been impatient to be alone with you, for you +must know that now all is at an end; yes, quite at an end." + +Startled, Angelique rose quickly, exclaiming: + +"What! Is Felicien dead?" + +"No! oh no!" + +"If he will never come again, it is only that he is dead." + +So Hubertine was obliged to explain to her that the day after the +procession she had been to see him, and had made him also promise that +he would keep way from them until he had the full authorisation of +Monseigneur to do otherwise. It was thus a definite leave-taking, for +she knew a marriage would be utterly impossible. She had made him almost +distracted as she explained to him how wrongly he had done in thus +compromising a young, ignorant, confiding child, whom he would not be +allowed to make his wife; and then he had assured her, that if he could +not see her again, he would die from grief, rather than be disloyal. + +That same evening he confessed everything to his father. + +"You see, my dear," continued Hubertine, "you are so courageous that I +can repeat to you all I know without hesitation. Oh! if you realised, my +darling, how I pity you, and what admiration I have for you since I have +found you so strong, so brave in keeping silent and in appearing gay +when your heart was heavily burdened. But you will have need of even +more firmness; yes, much more, my dear. This afternoon I have seen the +Abbe Cornille, and he gives me no encouragement whatever. Monseigneur +refuses to listen to the subject, so there is no more hope." + +She expected a flood of fears, and she was astonished to see her +daughter reseat herself tranquilly, although she had turned very pale. +The old oaken table had been cleared, and a lamp lighted up this ancient +servants' hall, the quiet of which was only disturbed by the humming of +the boiler. + +"Mother, dear, the end has not yet come. Tell me everything, I beg of +you. Have I not a right to know all, since I am the one above all others +most deeply interested in the matter?" + +And she listened attentively to what Hubertine thought best to tell her +of what she had learned from the Abbe, keeping back only certain details +of the life which was as yet an unknown thing to this innocent child. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Since the return of his son to him Monseigneur's days had been full of +trouble. After having banished him from his presence almost immediately +upon the death of his wife, and remaining without seeing him for twenty +years, lo! he had now come back to him in the plenitude and lustre of +youth, the living portrait of the one he had so mourned, with the same +delicate grace and beauty. This long exile, this resentment against +a child whose life had cost that of the mother, was also an act of +prudence. He realised it doubly now, and regretted that he had changed +his determination of not seeing him again. Age, twenty years of prayer, +his life as clergyman, had not subdued the unregenerate man within him. +It was simply necessary that this son of his, this child of the wife he +had so adored, should appear with his laughing blue eyes, to make the +blood circulate so rapidly in his veins as if it would burst them, as he +seemed to think that the dead had been brought to life again. He struck +his breast, he sobbed bitterly in penitence, as he remembered that the +joys of married life and the ties springing therefrom were prohibited +to the priesthood. The good Abbe Cornille had spoken of all this to +Hubertine in a low voice and with trembling lips. Mysterious sounds had +been heard, and it was whispered that Monseigneur shut himself up +after twilight, and passed nights of combat, of tears and of cries, the +violence of which, although partly stifled by the hangings of his room, +yet frightened the members of his household. He thought that he had +forgotten; that he had conquered passion; but it reappeared with the +violence of a tempest, reminding him of the terrible man he had been +formerly--the bold adventurer, the descendant of brave, legendary +chieftains. Each evening on his knees he flayed his skin with haircloth, +he tried to banish the phantom of the regretted wife by calling from its +coffin the skeleton which must now be there. But she constantly appeared +before him, living, in the delicious freshness of youth, such as she +was when very young he had first met her and loved her with the devoted +affection of maturity. The torture then recommenced as keen and intense +as on the day after her death: he mourned her, he longed for her with +the same revolt against God Who had taken her from him; he was unable to +calm himself until the break of day, when quite exhausted by contempt of +himself and disgust of all the world. Oh! Divine love! When he went out +of his room Monseigneur resumed his severe attitude, his expression was +calm and haughty, and his face was only slightly pale. The morning +when Felicien had made his confession he listened to him without +interruption, controlling himself with so great an effort that not a +fibre of his body quivered, and he looked earnestly at him, distressed +beyond measure to see him, so young, so handsome, so eager, and so +like himself in this folly of impetuous love. It was no longer with +bitterness, but it was his absolute will, his hard duty to save his +son from the ills which had caused him so much suffering, and he would +destroy the passion in his child as he wished to kill it in himself. +This romantic history ended by giving him great anxiety. Could it be +true that a poor girl--a child without a name, a little embroiderer, +first seen under a pale ray of moonlight, had been transfigured into a +delicate Virgin of the Legends, and adored with a fervent love as if in +a dream? At each new acknowledgment he thought his anger was increased, +as his heart beat with such an inordinate emotion, and he redoubled his +attempts at self-control, knowing not what cry might come to his lips. +He had finished by replying with a single word, "Never!" Then Felicien +threw himself on his knees before him, implored him, and pleaded his +cause as well as that of Angelique, in the trembling of respect and of +terror with which the sight of his father always filled him. Until then +he had approached him only with fear. He besought him not to oppose +his happiness, without even daring to lift his eyes towards his saintly +personage. With a submissive voice he offered to go away, no matter +where; to leave all his great fortune to the Church, and to take his +wife so far from there that they would never be seen again. He only +wished to love and to be loved, unknown. Monseigneur shook from +trembling as he repeated severely the word, "Never!" He had pledged +himself to the Voincourts, and he would never break his engagement +with them. Then Felicien, quite discouraged, realising that he was very +angry, went away, fearing lest the rush of blood, which empurpled his +cheeks, might make him commit the sacrilege of an open revolt against +paternal authority. + +"My child," concluded Hubertine, "you can easily understand that you +must no longer think of this young man, for you certainly would not +wish to act in opposition to the wishes of Monseigneur. I knew that +beforehand, but I preferred that the facts should speak for themselves, +and that no obstacle should appear to come from me." + +Angelique had listened to all this calmly, with her hands listlessly +clasped in her lap. Scarcely had she even dropped her eyelids from +time to time, as with fixed looks she saw the scene so vividly +described--Felicien at the feet of Monseigneur, speaking of her in an +overflow of tenderness. She did not answer immediately, but continued to +think seriously, in the dead quiet of the kitchen, where even the little +bubbling sound of the water in the boiler was no longer heard. She +lowered her eyes and looked as her hands, which, under the lamplight, +seemed as if made of beautiful ivory. Then, while the smile of perfect +confidence came back to her lips, she said simply: + +"If Monseigneur refuses, it is because he waits to know me." + +That night Angelique slept but little. The idea that to see her would +enable at once Monseigneur to decide in her favor haunted her. There was +in it no personal, feminine vanity, but she was under the influence of a +deep, intense love, and her true affection for Felicien was so evident, +she was sure that when his father realised it he could not be so +obstinate as to make them both unhappy. Many times she turned restlessly +in her bed as she pictured what would happen. Before her closed eyes +Monseigneur constantly passed in his violet-coloured robe. Perhaps it +was, indeed, through him, and by him, that the expected miracle was to +appear. The warm night was sleeping without, and she eagerly listened +for the voices, trying to know what the trees, the Chevrotte, the +Cathedral, her chamber itself, peopled with such friendly shadows, +advised her to do. But there was only an indistinct humming, and nothing +precise came to her. It seemed, however, as if mysterious whispers +encouraged her to persevere. At last she grew impatient of these too +slow certitudes, and as she fell asleep she surprised herself by saying: + +"To-morrow I will speak to Monseigneur." + +When she awoke, her proposed plan seemed not only quite natural but +necessary. It was ingenuous and brave; born of a proud and great purity. + +She knew that at five o'clock on every Saturday afternoon Monseigneur +went to kneel in the Chapel Hautecoeur, where he liked to pray alone, +giving himself up entirely to the past of his race and to himself, +seeking a solitude which was respected by all connected with the +Cathedral. As it fortunately happened, this was a Saturday. She quickly +came to a decision. At the Bishop's Palace, not only would she be apt +to find it difficult to be received, but, on the other hand, there were +always so many people about she would be ill at ease; whilst it would +be so simple to await him in the chapel, and to introduce herself to +Monseigneur as soon as he appeared. That day she embroidered with her +usual application and composure. Firm in her wish, sure of doing the +right thing, she had no impatient fever of expectation. When it was +four o'clock she spoke of going to see the _mere_ Gabet, and went out, +dressed as for an ordinary walk, wearing her little garden-hat tied +carelessly under her chin. She turned to the left, and pushing open +the linted, stuffed door of the portal of Saint Agnes, let it fall back +heavily behind her. + +The church was empty; alone, the confessional of Saint Joseph was still +occupied by a penitent, the edge of whose black dress was just seen as +one passed. Angelique, who had been perfectly self-possessed until now, +began to tremble as she entered this sacred, cold solitude, where even +the little sound of her steps seemed to echo terribly. Why was it that +her heart grew so oppressed? She had thought she was quite strong, and +the day had passed most peacefully--she was so sure of being right in +her desire to be happy. But now that she was ignorant of what might +happen she turned pale as if guilty, quite frightened at thinking +that she was to see Monseigneur, and that in truth she had come there +expressly to speak to him. She went quietly to the Chapel Hautecoeur, +where she was obliged to remain leaning against the gate. + +This chapel was one of the most sunken and dark of the old Romanesque +apse. Like a cave hewn in a rock, straight and bare, with the simple +lines of its low, vaulted ceiling, it had but one window, that of +stained glass, on which was the Legend of St. George, and in whose panes +the red and blue so predominated that they made a lilac-coloured light, +as if it were twilight. The altar, in black and white marble, was +unornamented, and the whole place, with its picture of the Crucifixion, +and its two chandeliers, seemed like a tomb. The walls were covered +with commemorative tablets, a collection from top to bottom of stones +crumbling from age, on which the deeply-cut inscriptions could still be +read. + +Almost stifled, Angelique waited, motionless. A beadle passed, who +did not even see her, so closely had she pressed herself against the +interior of the iron railing. She still saw the dress of the penitent +who was at the confessional near the entrance. Her eyes, gradually +accustomed to the half-light, were mechanically fixed upon the +inscriptions, the characters of which she ended by deciphering. Certain +names struck her, calling back to her memory the legends of the Chateau +d'Hautecoeur, of Jean V le Grand, of Raoul III, and of Herve VII. + +She soon found two others, those of Laurette and of Balbine, which +brought tears to her eyes, so nervous was she from trouble and +anxiety--Laurette, who fell from a ray of moonlight, on her way to +rejoin her betrothed, and Balbine, who died from sudden joy at the +return of her husband, whom she thought had been killed in the war. +They both of them came back at night and enveloped the Castle with their +immense, flowing white robes. Had she not seen them herself the day of +their visit to the ruins, as they floated, towards evening, above the +towers in the rosy pallor of the dusk? Ah! how willingly she would die +as they did, although but sixteen years of age, in the supreme happiness +of the realisation of her dream! + +A loud noise which reverberated under the arches made her tremble. It +was the priest who came out from the confessional of Saint Joseph and +shut the door after him. She was surprised at no longer seeing the +penitent, who had already gone. And when in his turn the clergyman went +out by way of the sacristy, she realised that she was absolutely alone +in the vast solitude of the Cathedral. At the loud sound of the door +of the confessional, as it creaked on its hinges, she thought that +Monseigneur was coming. It was nearly half an hour since she had +expected him, yet she did not realise it, for her excitement prevented +her from taking any note of time. + +Soon a new name drew her eyes towards the tablets--Felicien III, who +went to Palestine, carrying a candle in his hand, to fulfil a vow of +Philippe le Bel. And her heart beat with pride as she saw before +her, mentally, the youthful Felicien VII, the descendant of all these +worthies, the fair-haired nobleman whom she adored, and by whom she was +so tenderly loved. She suddenly became filled with pride and fear. Was +it possible that she herself was there, in the expectation of bringing +about a prodigy? Opposite her there was a fresher plaque of marble, +dating from the last century, the black letters upon which she could +easily read. Norbert Louis Ogier, Marquis d'Hautecoeur, Prince of +Mirande and of Rouvres, Count of Ferrieres, of Montegu and of Saint +Marc, and also of Villemareuil, Chevalier of the four Royal Orders +of Saint Esprit, Saint Michel, Notre Dame de Carmel and Saint Louis, +Lieutenant in the Army of the King, Governor of Normandy, holding office +as Captain-General of the Hunting, and Master of the Hounds. All these +were the titles of Felicien's grandfather, and yet she had come, so +simple, with her working-dress and her fingers worn by the needle, in +hopes of marrying the grandson of this dead dignitary! + +There was a slight sound, scarcely a rustling, on the flagstones. She +turned and saw Monseigneur, and remained motionless at this silent +approach without the pomp and surroundings she had vaguely expected. +He entered into the chapel, tall, erect, and noble-looking, dressed in +purple, with his pale face, his rather large nose, and his superb eyes, +which still seemed youthful in their expression. At first he did not +notice her against the black gate. Then, as he was about to kneel down, +he saw her before him at his feet. + +With trembling limbs, overcome by respect and fear, Angelique had fallen +upon her knees. He seemed to her at this moment like the Eternal Father, +terrible in aspect and absolute master of her destiny. But her heart was +still courageous, and she spoke at once. + +"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come----" + +As for the Bishop, he had risen immediately. He had a vague recollection +of her; the young girl, seen first at her window on the day of the +procession, and re-found a little later standing on a chair in the +church; this little embroiderer, with whom his son was so desperately +in love. He uttered no word, he made no gesture. He waited, stern and +stiff. + +"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come on purpose that you may see me. You have, +it is true, refused to accept me, but you do not know me. And now, here +I am. Please look at me before you repel me again. I am the one who +loves, and am also beloved, and that is all. Nothing beyond this +affection. Nothing but a poor child, found at the door of this church. +You see me at your feet, little, weak, and humble. If I trouble you it +will be very easy for you to send me away. You have only to lift your +little finger to crush me. But think of my tears! Were you to know how +I have suffered, you would be compassionate. I wished, Monseigneur, to +plead my cause in my turn. I love, and that is why I kneel before you, +to tell you so. I am ignorant in many ways; I only know I love. All +my strength and all my pride is centred in that fact. Is not that +sufficient? It certainly makes one great and good to be able to say that +one really loves." + +She continued with sighs, and in broken phrases, to confess everything +to him, in an unaffected outpouring of ardent feeling. It was a true +affection that thus acknowledged itself. She dared to do so because she +was innocent and pure. Little by little she raised her head. + +"We love each other, Monseigneur. Without doubt he has already told +you how all this came to pass. As for me, I have often asked myself the +question without being able to reply to it. But we love each other, and +if it is a crime to do so, pardon it, I beseech you, for it came from +afar, from everything in short that surrounded us. When I realised that +I loved him, it was already too late to prevent it. Now, is it possible +to be angry on that account? You can keep him with you, make him marry +some other person, but you cannot prevent him from giving me his heart. +He will die without me, as I shall if obliged to part from him. When +he is not by my side I feel that he is really near me, and that we will +never be entirely separated, since we carry each other's life with us. +I have only to close my eyes to re-see him when I wish, so firmly is his +image impressed upon my soul. Our whole natures are thus closely united +for life. And could you wish to draw us away from this union? Oh! +Monseigneur, it is divine; do not try to prevent us loving each other!" + +He looked at her in her simple working-dress, so fresh, so unpretending, +and attractive. He listened to her as she repeated the canticle of their +love in a voice that both fascinated and troubled him, and which grew +stronger by degrees. But as her garden-hat fell upon her shoulders, her +exquisite hair seemed to make a halo around her head of fine gold, and +she appeared to him, indeed, like one of those legendary virgins of the +old prayer-books, so frail was she, so primitive, so absorbed in her +deep feeling of intense and pure affection. + +"Be good, be merciful, Monseigneur. You are the master. Do allow us to +be happy!" + +She implored him, and finding that he remained unmoved, without +speaking, she again bowed down her head. + +Oh! this unhappy child at his feet; this odour of youth that came up +from the sweet figure thus bent before him! There he saw, as it were +again, the beautiful light locks he had so fondly caressed in the days +gone by. She, whose memory still distressed him after twenty years of +penitence, had the same fresh youthfulness, the same proud expression, +and the same lily-like grace. She had re-appeared; it was she herself +who now sobbed and besought him to be tender and merciful. + +Tears had come to Angelique, yet she continued to outpour her heart. + +"And, Monseigneur, it is not only that I love him, but I also love the +nobility of his name, the lustre of his royal fortune. Yes, I know well +that being nothing, that having nothing, it seems as if I were only +desirous of his money. In a way, it is true it is also for his wealth +that I wish to marry him. I tell you this because it is necessary that +you should know me thoroughly. Ah! to become rich by him and with him, +to owe all my happiness to him, to live in the sweetness and splendour +of luxury, to be free in our loving home, and to have no more sorrow, no +misery around us! That is my ideal! Since he has loved me I fancy myself +dressed in heavy brocades, as ladies wore in olden days; I have on my +arms and around my neck strings of pearls and precious stones; I have +horses and carriages; groves in which I take long walks, followed +by pages. Whenever I think of him my dream recommences, and I say to +myself, 'This must all come to pass, for it perfects my desire to become +a queen.' Is it, then, Monseigneur, a bad thing to love him more because +he can gratify all my childish wishing by showering down miraculous +floods of gold upon me as in fairy-tales?" + +He saw then that she rose up proudly, with a charming, stately air of +a true princess, in spite of her real simplicity. And she was always +exactly like the fair maiden of other years, with the same flower-like +delicacy, the same tender tears, clear as smiles. A species of +intoxication came from her, the warm breath of which mounted to his +face--the same shadow of a remembrance which made him at night throw +himself on his devotional chair, sobbing so deeply that he disturbed the +sacred silence of the Palace. Until three o'clock in the morning of this +same day he had contended with himself again, and this long history of +love, this story of passion, would only revive and excite his incurable +wound. But behind his impassiveness nothing was seen, nothing betrayed +his effort at self-control and his attempt to conquer the beating of his +heart. Were he to lose his life's blood, drop by drop, no one should see +it flow, and he now simply became paler, was silent and immovable. + +At last this great persistent silence made Angelique desperate, and she +redoubled her prayers. + +"I put myself in your hands, Monseigneur. Do with me whatever you think +best; but have pity when deciding my fate." + +Still, as he continued silent, he terrified her, and seemed to grow +taller than ever as he stood before her in his fearful majesty. The +deserted Cathedral, whose aisles were already dark, with its high +vaulted arches where the daylight seemed dying, made the agony of this +silence still harder to bear. In the chapel, where the commemorative +slabs could no longer be seen, there remained only the Bishop in his +purple cassock, that now looked black, and his long white face, which +alone seemed to have absorbed all the light. She saw his bright eyes +fixed upon her with an ever-increasing depth of expression, and shrunk +from them, wondering if it were possible that anger made them shine in +so strange a way. + +"Monseigneur, had I not come to-day, I should have eternally reproached +myself for having brought about the unhappiness of us both from my want +of courage. Tell me then, oh, tell me that I was right in doing so, and +that you will give us your consent!" + +What use would there be in discussing the matter with this child? He +had already given his son the reasons for his refusal, and that was +all-sufficient. That he had not yet spoken was only because he thought +he had nothing to say. She, no doubt, understood him, and she seemed to +wish to raise herself up that she might be able to kiss his hands. But +he threw them behind him violently, and she was startled at seeing his +white face become suddenly crimson, from a rush of blood to his head. + +"Monseigneur! Monseigneur!" + +At last he opened his lips, to say to her just one word, the same he had +said to his son: + +"Never!" + +And without remaining to pray that day, as was his wont, he left the +chapel, and with slow steps soon disappeared behind the pillars of the +apse. + +Falling on the flagstones, Angelique wept for a long time, sobbing +deeply in the great peaceful silence of the empty church. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +That same evening in the kitchen, after they left the dinner-table, +Angelique confessed everything to Hubert, telling him of her interview +with the Bishop, and of the latter's refusal. She was very pale, but not +at all excited. + +Hubert was quite overcome. What? Could it be possible that his dear +child already suffered? That she also had been so deeply wounded in her +affections? His eyes were filled with tears from his sympathy with her, +as they were both of that excessively sensitive nature that at the least +breath they were carried away by their imaginations. + +"Ah! my poor darling, why did you not consult me? I would willingly have +accompanied you, and perhaps I might have persuaded Monseigneur to yield +to your prayers." + +With a look Hubertine stopped him. He was really unreasonable. Was it +not much better to seize this occasion to put an end at once to all +ideas of a marriage which would be impossible? She took the young girl +in her arms, and tenderly kissed her forehead. + +"Then, now it is ended, my dear child; all ended?" + +Angelique at first did not appear to understand what was said to her. +Soon the words returned to her as if from a distance. She looked fixedly +before her, seeming anxious to question the empty space, and at last she +replied: + +"Without doubt, mother." + +Indeed, on the morrow she seated herself at the work-frame and +embroidered as she was wont to do. She took up her usual routine of +daily work, and did not appear to suffer. Moreover, no allusion was made +to the past; she no longer looked from time to time out of the window +into the garden, and gradually losing her paleness, the natural +colour came back to her cheeks. The sacrifice appeared to have been +accomplished. + +Hubert himself thought it was so, and, convinced of the wisdom of +Hubertine, did all in his power to keep Felicien at a distance. The +latter, not daring to openly revolt against his father, grew feverishly +impatient, to such a degree that he almost broke the promise he had made +to wait quietly without trying to see Angelique again. He wrote to her, +and the letters were intercepted. He even went to the house one morning, +but it was Hubert alone who received him. Their explanatory conversation +saddened them both to an equal degree, so much did the young man appear +to suffer when the embroiderer told him of his daughter's calmness and +her air of forgetfulness. He besought him to be loyal, and go to away, +that he might not again throw the child into the fearful trouble of the +last few weeks. + +Felicien again pledged himself to be patient, but he violently refused +to take back his word, for he was still hopeful that he might persuade +his father in the end. He could wait; he would let affairs remain in +their present state with the Voincourts, where he dined twice a week, +doing so simply to avoid a direct act of open rebellion. + +And as he left the house he besought Hubert to explain to Angelique why +he had consented to the torment of not seeing her for the moment; he +thought only of her, and the sole aim of everything he did was to gain +her at last. + +When her husband repeated this conversation to her, Hubertine grew very +serious. Then, after a short silence, she asked: + +"Shall you tell our daughter what he asked you to say to her?" + +"I ought to do so." + +She was again silent, but finally added: + +"Act according to your conscience. But he is now under a delusion. He +will eventually be obliged to yield to his father's wishes, and then our +poor, dear little girl will die in consequence." + +Hubert, overcome with grief, hesitated. But after contending with +himself, he concluded to repeat nothing. Moreover, he became a little +reassured each day when his wife called his attention to Angelique's +tranquil appearance. + +"You see well that the wound is healing. She is learning to forget." + +But she did not forget; she also was simply waiting. All hope of human +aid having died within her, she now had returned to the idea of some +wonderful prodigy. There would surely be one, if God wished her to be +happy. She had only to give herself up entirely into His hands; she +believed that this new trial had been sent to her as a punishment +for having attempted to force His will in intruding upon Monseigneur. +Without true grace mankind was weak, and incapable of success. Her need +of that grace made her humble, bringing to her as an only hope the +aid of the Invisible; so that she gave up acting for herself, but left +everything to the mysterious forces which surrounded her. Each evening +at lamplight she recommenced her reading of the "Golden Legend," being +as delighted with it as when she was a young child. She doubted none +of the miracles related therein, being convinced that the power of the +Unknown is without limit for the triumph of pure souls. + +Just at this time the upholsterer of the Cathedral ordered of the +Huberts a panel of the very richest embroidery for the throne of +Monseigneur the Bishop. This panel, one yard and a half in width and +three yards in length, was to be set in old carved wood, and on it were +to be represented two angels of life-size, holding a crown, on which +were to be the arms of the Hautecoeurs. It was necessary that the +embroidery should be in bas-relief, a work which not only required great +artistic knowledge, but also needed physical strength, to be well done. +When proposed to the Huberts, they at first declined the offer, being +not only fearful of fatiguing Angelique, but especially dreading that +she would be saddened by the remembrances which would be brought to her +mind as she wrought thread after thread during the several weeks. But +she insisted upon accepting the command, and every morning applied +herself to her task with an extraordinary energy. It seemed as if +she found her happiness in tiring herself, and that she needed to be +physically exhausted in order to be calm. + +So in the old workroom life continued in the same regular way, as if +their hearts had not even for a moment beaten more quickly than usual. +Whilst Hubert occupied himself with arranging the frames, or drew +the patterns, or stretched or relaxed the materials, Hubertine helped +Angelique, both of them having their hands terribly tired and bruised +when evening came. For the angels and the ornaments it had been +necessary at the beginning to divide each subject into several parts, +which were treated separately. In order to perfect the most salient +points, Angelique first took spools of coarse unbleached thread, +which she re-covered with the strong thread of Brittany in a contrary +direction; and as the need came, making use of a heavy pair of shears, +as well as of a roughing-chisel, she modelled these threads, shaped the +drapery of the angels, and detached the details of the ornaments. In all +this there was a real work of sculpture. At last, when the desired form +was obtained, with the aid of Hubertine she threw on masses of gold +thread, which she fastened down with little stitches of silk. Thus there +was a bas-relief of gold, incomparably soft and bright, shining like a +sun in the centre of this dark, smoky room. The old tools were arranged +in the same lines as they had been for centuries--the punches, the +awls, the mallets, and the hammers; on the work-frame the little donkey +waste-basket and the tinsel, the thimbles and the needles, moved up +and down as usual, while in the different corners, where they ended by +growing rusty, the diligent, the hand spinning-wheel, and the reel for +winding, seemed to sleep in the peaceful quiet which entered through the +open window. + +Days passed. Angelique broke many needles between morning and evening, +so difficult was it to sew down the gold, through the thickness of +the waxed threads. To have seen her, one would have said she was so +thoroughly absorbed by her hard work that she could think of nothing +else. At nine o'clock she was exhausted by fatigue, and, going to bed, +she sank at once into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When her embroidery gave +her mind a moment's leisure, she was astonished not to see Felicien. +Although she took no step towards seeking him, it seemed to her that he +ought to have tried every possible way to come to her. Yet she approved +of his wisdom in acting as he did, and would have scolded him had +he tried to hasten matters. No doubt he also looked for something +supernatural to happen. It was this expectation upon which she now +lived, thinking each night that it would certainly come on the morrow. +Until now she had never rebelled. Still, at times she lifted up her head +inquiringly, as if asking "What! Has nothing yet come to pass?" And then +she pricked her finger so deeply that her hand bled, and she was obliged +to take the pincers to draw the needle out. When her needle would break +with a sharp little sound, as if of glass, she did not even make a +movement of impatience. + +Hubertine was very anxious on seeing her apply herself so desperately +to her work, and as the time for the great washing had come again, she +forced her to leave her panel of embroidery, that she might have four +good days of active outdoor life in the broad sunlight. The _mere_ +Gabet, now free of her rheumatism, was able to help in the soaping and +rinsing. It was a regular fete in the Clos-Marie, these last August +days, in which the weather was splendid, the sky almost cloudless, while +a delicious fragrance came up from the Chevrotte, the water of which as +it passed under the willows was almost icy cold. The first day Angelique +was very gay, as she beat the linen after plunging it in the stream; +enjoying to the full the river, the elms, the old ruined mill, the wild +herbs, and all those friendly surroundings, so filled with pleasant +memories. Was it not there she had become acquainted with Felicien, who +under the moonlight had at first seemed so mysterious a being, and who, +later on, had been so adorably awkward the morning when he ran after +the dressing-sacque that was being carried away by the current? As she +rinsed each article, she could not refrain from glancing at the gateway +of the Bishop's garden, which until recently had been nailed up. One +evening she had passed through it on his arm, and who could tell but he +might suddenly now open it and come to take her as she applied herself +to her work in the midst of the frothy foam that at times almost covered +her. + +But the next day, as the _mere_ Gabet brought the last barrow of linen, +which she spread out on the grass with Angelique, she interrupted her +interminable chattering upon the gossip of the neighbourhood to say +maliciously: + +"By the way, you know that Monseigneur is to marry his son?" + +The young girl, who was just smoothing out a sheet, knelt down in the +grass, her strength leaving her all at once, from the rudeness of the +shock. + +"Yes, everyone is talking of it. The son of Monseigneur will in the +autumn marry Mademoiselle de Voincourt. It seems that everything was +decided upon and arranged yesterday." + +She remained on her knees, as a flood of confused ideas passed through +her brain, and a strange humming was in her ears. She was not at all +surprised at the news, and she realised it must be true. Her mother had +already warned her, so she ought to have been prepared for it. She did +not yet even doubt Felicien's love for her, as that was her faith and +her strength. But at the present moment, that which weakened her so +greatly and excited her to the very depths of her being was the thought +that, trembling before the commands of his father, he could at last +yield from weariness, and consent to wed one whom he did not love. Then +he would be lost to her whom he really adored. Never had she thought +such an act on his part possible; but now she saw him obliged by his +filial duty and his sense of obedience to make them both unhappy for +ever. Still motionless, her eyes fixed upon the little gate, she at +last revolted against the facts, feeling as if she must go and shake the +bars, force them open with her hands, run to Felicien, and, aiding him +by her own courage, persuade him not to yield. She was surprised to hear +herself reply to the _mere_ Gabet, in the purely mechanical instinct of +hiding her trouble: + +"Ah! then he is to marry Mademoiselle Claire. She is not only very +beautiful, but it is said she is also very good." + +Certainly, as soon as the old woman went away, she must go and find him. +She had waited long enough; she would break her promise of not seeing +him as if it were a troublesome obstacle. What right had anyone +to separate them in this way? Everything spoke to her of their +affection--the Cathedral, the fresh water, and the old elm-trees under +which they had been so happy. Since their affection had grown on this +spot, it was there that she wished to find him again, to go with him +arm-in-arm far away, so far that no one would ever see them. + +"That is all," said at last the _mere_ Gabet, as she hung the last +napkins on a bush. "In two hours they will be dry. Good-night, +mademoiselle, as you no longer have need of me." + +Now, standing in the midst of this efflorescence of linen that shone +on the green grass, Angelique thought of that other day, when, in the +tempest of wind, among the flapping of the sheets and tablecloths, they +unfolded so ingenuously the secrets of their lives to each other. Why +had he discontinued his visits to her? Why had he not come to meet her +during her healthy exercise of the past three days? But it would not +be long before she would run to him, and when he had clasped her in his +arms, he would know well that he was hers, and hers only. She would not +even need to reproach him for his apparent weakness; it would be enough +for her to show herself to make him realise that their happiness was in +being together. + +He would dare everything for her sake when once she had rejoined him. + +An hour passed, and Angelique walked slowly between the pieces of +linen, all white herself from the blinding reflection of the sun; and +a confused sentiment awoke in her breast, which, growing stronger and +stronger, prevented her from going over to the gate, as she had wished +to do. She was frightened before this commencement of a struggle. What +did it mean? She certainly could act according to her own will. Yet +something new, inexplicable, thwarted her and changed the simplicity of +her passion. It was such a simple thing to go to a beloved one; yet she +could not possibly do so now, being kept back by a tormenting doubt. +Also, since she had given her promise, perhaps it would be wrong to +break it. In the evening, when the whole "wash" was dry, and Hubertine +came to help her to take it to the house, she was still undecided what +to do, and concluded to reflect upon it during the night. With her arms +filled to overflowing with linen, white as snow, and smelling fresh and +clean, she cast an anxious look towards the Clos-Marie, already bathed +in the twilight, as if it were a friendly corner of Nature refusing to +be her accomplice. + +In the morning Angelique was greatly troubled when she awoke. Several +other nights passed without her having come to any decision. She could +not recover her ease of mind until she had the certainty that she was +still beloved. Were her faith in that unshaken she would be perfectly at +rest. If loved, she could bear anything. A fit of being charitable had +again taken possession of her, so that she was touched by the slightest +suffering, and her eyes were filled with tears ready to overflow at any +moment. The old man Mascart made her give him tobacco, and the Chouarts +drew from her everything they wished, even to preserved fruits. But the +Lemballeuses also profited by her gifts, and Tiennette had been seen +dancing at the fetes, dressed in one of "the good young lady's" gowns. +And one day, as she was taking to the grandmother some chemises promised +her the previous evening, she saw from a distance, in the midst of the +poor family, Madame de Voincourt and her daughter Claire, accompanied by +Felicien. The latter, no doubt, had taken them there. She did not show +herself, but returned home at once, chilled to the heart. Two days +later she saw the two again as they came out from the Chateau; then one +morning the old man Mascart told her of a visit he had received from +the handsome young gentleman and two ladies. Then she abandoned her poor +people, who seemed no longer to have claims upon her, since Felicien had +taken them and given them to his new friends. She gave up her walks +for fear she might see them, and thus be so deeply wounded that her +sufferings would be increased tenfold. She felt as if something were +dying within her, as if, little by little, her very life was passing +away. + +One evening, after one of these meetings, when alone in her chamber, +stifling from anguish, she uttered this cry: + +"But he loves me no longer." + +She saw before her, mentally, Claire de Voincourt, tall, beautiful, +with her crown of black hair, and he was at her side, slight, proud, and +handsome. Were they not really created for each other, of the same race, +so well mated that one might think they were already married? + +"He no longer loves me! Oh! he no longer loves me!" + +This exclamation broke from her lips as if it were the ruin of all her +hopes, and, her faith once shaken, everything gave way without her being +able to examine the facts of the case or to regard them calmly. The +previous evening she believed in something, but that had now passed by. +A breath, coming from she knew not where, had been sufficient, and all +at once by a single blow she had fallen into the greatest despair--that +of thinking she was not beloved. He had indeed spoken wisely when he +told her once that this was the only real grief, the one insupportable +torture. Now her turn had come. Until then she had been resigned, +she felt so strong and confident as she awaited the miracle. But her +strength passed away with her faith; she was tormented by her distress +like a child; her whole being seemed to be only an open wound. And a +painful struggle commenced in her soul. + +At first she called upon her pride to help her; she was too proud to +care for him any more. She tried to deceive herself, she pretended to be +free from all care, as she sang while embroidering the Hautecoeur coat +of arms, upon which she was at work. But her heart was so full it almost +stifled her, and she was ashamed to acknowledge to herself that she was +weak enough to love him still in spite of all, and even to love him more +than ever. For a week these armorial bearings, as they grew thread by +thread under her fingers, filled her with a terrible sorrow. Quartered +one and four, two and three, of Jerusalem and d'Hautecoeur; of +Jerusalem, which is argent, a cross potence, or, between four +cross-crosslets of the last; and d'Hautecoeur, azure, on a castle, or, a +shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent; the whole accompanied +by three fleurs-de-lys, or, two at the top and one in the point. The +enamels were made of twist, the metals of gold and silver thread. What +misery it was to feel that her hands trembled, and to be obliged to +lower her head to hide her eyes, that were blinded with tears, from all +this brightness. She thought only of him; she adored him in the lustre +of his legendary nobility. And when she embroidered the motto of the +family, "_Si Dieu veult, je veux_," in black silk on a streamer of +silver, she realised that she was his slave, and that never again +could she reclaim him. Then tears prevented her from seeing, while +mechanically she continued to make little stitches in her work. + +After this it was indeed pitiable. Angelique loved in despair, fought +against this hopeless affection, which she could not destroy. She still +wished to go to Felicien, to reconquer him by throwing her arms around +his neck; and thus the contest was daily renewed. Sometimes she thought +she had gained control over her feelings, so great a silence appeared to +have fallen within and around her. She seemed to see herself as if in a +vision, a stranger in reality, very little, very cold, and kneeling like +an obedient child in the humility of renunciation. Then it was no longer +herself, but a sensible young girl, made so by her education and her +home life. Soon a rush of blood mounted to her face, making her dizzy; +her perfect health, the ardent feelings of her youth, seemed to gallop +like runaway colts, and she resaw herself, proud and passionate, in all +the reality of her unknown origin. Why, then, had she been so obedient? +There was no true duty to consult, only free-will. Already she had +planned her flight, and calculated the most favourable hour for forcing +open the gate of the Bishop's garden. But already, also, the agony, the +grave uneasiness, the torment of a doubt had come back to her. Were she +to yield to evil she would suffer eternal remorse in consequence. Hours, +most abominable hours, passed in this uncertainty as to what part she +should take under this tempestuous wind, which constantly threw her from +the revolt of her love to the horror of a fault. And she came out of the +contest weakened by each victory over her heart. + +One evening, as she was about leaving the house to go to join Felicien, +she suddenly thought of her little book from the Society of Aid to +Abandoned Children. She was so distressed to find that she no longer had +strength to resist her pride. She took it from the depths of the chest +of drawers, turned over its leaves, whispered to herself at each page +the lowness of her birth, so eager was she in her need of humility. +Father and mother unknown; no name; nothing but a date and a number; a +complete neglect, like that of a wild plant that grows by the roadside! +Then crowds of memories came to her: the rich pastures of the Mievre and +the cows she had watched there; the flat route of Soulanges, where she +had so often walked barefooted; and Maman Nini, who boxed her ears when +she stole apples. Certain pages specially attracted her by their painful +associations:--those which certified every three months to the visits +of the under-inspector and of the physician, whose signatures were +sometimes accompanied by observations or information, as, for instance, +a severe illness, during which she had almost died; a claim from her +nurse on the subject of a pair of shoes that had been burnt; and bad +marks that had been given her for her uncontrollable temper. It was, in +short, the journal of her misery. But one thing disturbed her above all +others--the report in reference to the breaking of the necklace she +had worn until she was six years of age. She recollected that she had +instinctively hated it, this string of beads of bone, cut in the shape +of little olives, strung on a silken cord, and fastened by a medallion +of plaited silver, bearing the date of her entrance into the "Home" and +her number. She considered it as a badge of slavery, and tried several +times to break it with her little hands, without any fear as to the +consequences of doing so. Then, when older, she complained that it +choked her. For a year longer she was obliged to wear it. Great, indeed, +was her joy when, in the presence of the mayor of the parish, the +inspector's aid had cut the cord, replacing this sign of individuality +by a formal description, in which allusion was made to her +violet-coloured eyes and her fine golden hair. Yet she always seemed +to feel around her neck this collar, as if she were an animal that was +marked in order that she might be recognised if she went astray; it cut +into her flesh and stifled her. When she came to that page on this day, +her humility came back to her, she was frightened, and went up to her +chamber, sobbing as if unworthy of being loved. At two other times this +little book saved her. At last it lost its power, and could not help her +in checking her rebellious thoughts. + +Now, her greatest temptation came to her at night. Before going to +bed, that her sleep might be calm, she imposed upon herself the task of +resuming reading the Legends. But, resting her forehead on her hands, +notwithstanding all her efforts she could understand nothing. The +miracles stupefied her; she saw only a discoloured flight of phantoms. +Then in her great bed, after a most intense prostration, she started +suddenly from her sleep, in agony, in the midst of the darkness. She sat +upright, distracted; then knelt among the half thrown-back clothes, as +the perspiration started from her forehead, while she trembled from head +to foot. Clasping her hands together, she stammered in prayer, "Oh! my +God! Why have You forsaken me?" + +Her great distress was to realise that she was alone in the obscurity +at such moments. She had dreamed of Felicien, she was eager to dress +herself and go to join him, before anyone could come to prevent her +from fleeing. It was as if the Divine grace were leaving her, as if God +ceased to protect her, and even the elements abandoned her. In despair, +she called upon the unknown, she listened attentively, hoping for some +sign from the Invisible. But there was no reply; the air seemed empty. +There were no more whispering voices, no more mysterious rustlings. +Everything seemed to be dead--the Clos-Marie, with the Chevrotte, the +willows, the elm-trees in the Bishop's garden, and the Cathedral itself. +Nothing remained of the dreams she had placed there; the white flight of +her friends in passing away left behind them only their sepulchre. She +was in agony at her powerlessness, disarmed, like a Christian of the +Primitive Church overcome by original sin, as soon as the aid of the +supernatural had departed. In the dull silence of this protected corner +she heard this evil inheritance come back, howling triumphant over +everything. If in ten minutes more no help came to her from figurative +forces, if things around her did not rouse up and sustain her, she would +certainly succumb and go to her ruin. "My God! My God! Why have You +abandoned me?" Still kneeling on her bed, slight and delicate, it seemed +to her as if she were dying. + +Each time, until now, at the moment of her greatest distress she had +been sustained by a certain freshness. It was the Eternal Grace which +had pity upon her, and restored her illusions. She jumped out on to the +floor with her bare feet, and ran eagerly to the window. Then at last +she heard the voices rising again; invisible wings brushed against her +hair, the people of the "Golden Legend" came out from the trees and the +stones, and crowded around her. Her purity, her goodness, all that which +resembled her in Nature, returned to her and saved her. Now she was no +longer afraid, for she knew that she was watched over. Agnes had come +back with the wandering, gentle virgins, and in the air she breathed +was a sweet calmness, which, notwithstanding her intense sadness, +strengthened her in her resolve to die rather than fail in her duty or +break her promise. At last, quite exhausted, she crept back into +her bed, falling asleep again with the fear of the morrow's trials, +constantly tormented by the idea that she must succumb in the end, if +her weakness thus increased each day. + +In fact, a languor gained fearfully upon Angelique since she thought +Felicien no longer loved her. She was deeply wounded and silent, +uncomplaining; she seemed to be dying hourly. At first it showed itself +by weariness. She would have an attack of want of breath, when she was +forced to drop her thread, and for a moment remain with her eyes half +closed, seeing nothing, although apparently looking straight before her. +Then she left off eating, scarcely taking even a little milk; and she +either hid her bread or gave it to the neighbours' chickens, that she +need not make her parents anxious. A physician having been called, +found no acute disease, but considering her life too solitary, simply +recommended a great deal of exercise. It was like a gradual fading away +of her whole being; a disappearing by slow degrees, an obliterating +of her physique from its immaterial beauty. Her form floated like the +swaying of two great wings; a strong light seemed to come from her +thin face, where the soul was burning. She could now come down from her +chamber only in tottering steps, as she supported herself by putting her +two hands against the wall of the stairway. But as soon as she realised +she was being looked at, she made a great effort, and even persisted in +wishing to finish the panel of heavy embroidery for the Bishop's seat. +Her little, slender hands had no more strength, and when she broke a +needle she could not draw it from the work with the pincers. + +One morning, when Hubert and Hubertine had been obliged to go out, and +had left her alone at her work, the embroiderer, coming back first, had +found her on the floor near the frame, where she had fallen from her +chair after having fainted away. She had at last succumbed before her +task, one of the great golden angels being still unfinished. Hubert took +her in his arms, and tried to place her on her feet. But she fell back +again, and did not recover consciousness. + +"My darling! My darling! Speak to me! Have pity on me!" + +At last she opened her eyes and looked at him in despair. Why had he +wished her to come back to life! She would so gladly die! + +"What is the matter with you, my dear child? Have you really deceived +us? Do you still love him?" + +She made no answer, but simply looked at him with intense sadness. Then +he embraced her gently, took her in his arms, and carried her up to her +room. Having placed her upon her bed, when he saw how white and frail +she was he wept that he had had so cruel a task to perform as to keep +away from her the one whom she so loved. + +"But I would have given him to you, my dear! Why did you say nothing to +me?" + +She did not speak; her eyelids closed, and she appeared to fall +asleep. He remained standing, his looks fixed upon the thin, lily-white +countenance, his heart bleeding with pity. Then, as her breathing had +become quiet, he went downstairs, as he heard his wife come in. + +He explained everything to her in the working-room. Hubertine had just +taken off her hat and gloves, and he at once told her of his having +found the child on the floor in a dead faint, that she was now sleeping +on her bed, overcome with weakness, and almost lifeless. + +"We have really been greatly mistaken. She thinks constantly of this +young man, and it is killing her by inches. Ah! if you knew what a shock +it gave me, and the remorse which has made me almost distracted, since +I have realised the truth of the case, and carried her upstairs in so +pitiable a state. It is our fault. We have separated them by falsehoods, +and I am not only ashamed, but so angry with myself it makes me ill. But +what? Will you let her suffer so, without saying anything to save her?" + +Still Hubertine was as silent as Angelique, and, pale from anxiety, +looked at him calmly and soothingly. But he, always an excitable man, +was now so overcome by what he had just seen that, forgetting his usual +submission, he was almost beside himself, could not keep still, but +threw his hands up and down in his feverish agitation. + +"Very well, then! I will speak, and I will tell her that Felicien loves +her, and that it is we who have had the cruelty to prevent him from +returning, in deceiving him also. Now, every tear she sheds cuts me to +the heart. Were she to die, I should consider myself as having been her +murderer. I wish her to be happy. Yes! happy at any cost, no matter how, +but by all possible means." + +He had approached his wife, and he dared to cry out in the revolt of +his tenderness, being doubly irritated by the sad silence she still +maintained. + +"Since they love each other, it is they alone who should be masters of +the situation. There is surely nothing in the world greater than to love +and be loved. Yes, happiness is always legitimate." + +At length Hubertine, standing motionless, spoke slowly: + +"You are willing, then, that he should take her from us, are you not? +That he should marry her notwithstanding our opposition, and without the +consent of his father? Would you advise them to do so? Do you think that +they would be happy afterwards, and that love would suffice them?" + +And without changing her manner she continued in the same heart-broken +voice: + +"On my way home I passed by the cemetery, and an undefinable hope made +me enter there again. I knelt once more on the spot that is worn by our +knees, and I prayed there for a long time." + +Hubert had turned very pale, and a cold chill replaced the fever of a +few moments before. Certainly he knew well the tomb of the unforgiving +mother, where they had so often been in tears and in submission, as they +accused themselves of their disobedience, and besought the dead to send +them her pardon from the depths of the earth. They had remained there +for hours, sure that if the grace they demanded were ever granted them +they would be cognisant of it at once. That for which they pleaded, that +for which they hoped, was for another infant, a child of pardon, the +only sign which would assure them that at last they themselves had been +forgiven. But all was in vain. The cold, hard mother was deaf to all +their entreaties, and left them under the inexorable punishment of the +death of their firstborn, whom she had taken and carried away, and whom +she refused to restore to them. + +"I prayed there for a long time," repeated Hubertine. "I listened +eagerly to know if there would not be some slight movement." + +Hubert questioned her with an anxious look. + +"But there was nothing--no! no sound came up to me from the earth, and +within me there was no feeling of relief. Ah! yes, it is useless to hope +any longer. It is too late. We brought about our own unhappiness." + +Then, trembling, he asked: + +"Do you accuse me of it?" + +"Yes, you are to blame, and I also did wrong in following you. We +disobeyed in the beginning, and all our life has been spoiled in +consequence of that one false step." + +"But are you not happy?" + +"No, I am not happy. A woman who has no child can never be happy. To +love merely is not enough. That love must be crowned and blest." + +He had fallen into a chair, faint and overcome, as tears came to his +eyes. Never before had she reproached him for the ever-open wound which +marred their lives, and she who always after having grieved him by +an involuntary allusion to the past had quickly recovered herself and +consoled him, this time let him suffer, looking at him as she stood +near, but making no sign, taking no step towards him. He wept bitterly, +exclaiming in the midst of his tears: + +"Ah! the dear child upstairs--it is she you condemn. You are not willing +that Felicien should marry her, as I married you, and that she should +suffer as you have done." + +She answered simply by a look: a clear, affectionate glance, in which he +read the strength and simplicity of her heart. + +"But you said yourself, my dear, that our sweet daughter would die of +grief if matters were not changed. Do you, then, wish for her death?" + +"Yes. Her death now would be preferable to an unhappy life." + +He left his seat, and clasped her in his arms as they both sobbed +bitterly. For some minutes they embraced each other. Then he conquered +himself, and she in her turn was obliged to lean upon his shoulder, that +he might comfort her and renew her courage. They were indeed distressed, +but were firm in their decision to keep perfectly silent, and, if it +were God's will that their child must die in consequence, they must +accept it submissively, rather than advise her to do wrong. + +From that day Angelique was obliged to keep in her room. Her weakness +increased so rapidly and to such a degree that she could no longer go +down to the workroom. Did she attempt to walk, her head became dizzy +at once and her limbs bent under her. At first, by the aid of the +furniture, she was able to get to the balcony. Later, she was obliged +to content herself with going from her armchair to her bed. Even that +distance seemed long to her, and she only tried it in the morning and +evening, she was so exhausted. + +However, she still worked, giving up the embroidery in bas-relief as +being too difficult, and simply making use of coloured silks. She copied +flowers after Nature, from a bunch of hydrangeas and hollyhocks, which, +having no odour, she could keep in her room. The bouquet was in full +bloom in a large vase, and often she would rest for several minutes as +she looked at it with pleasure, for even the light silks were too heavy +for her fingers. In two days she had made one flower, which was fresh +and bright as it shone upon the satin; but this occupation was her +life, and she would use her needle until her last breath. Softened by +suffering, emaciated by the inner fever that was consuming her, she +seemed now to be but a spirit, a pure and beautiful flame that would +soon be extinguished. + +Why was it necessary to struggle any longer if Felicien did not love +her? Now she was dying with this conviction; not only had he no love for +her to-day, but perhaps he had never really cared for her. So long as +her strength lasted she had contended against her heart, her health, and +her youth, all of which urged her to go and join him. But now that she +was unable to move, she must resign herself and accept her fate. + +One morning, as Hubert placed her in her easy chair, and put a cushion +under her little, motionless feet, she said, with a smile: + +"Ah! I am sure of being good now, and not trying to run away." + +Hubert hastened to go downstairs, that she might not see his tears. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +It was impossible for Angelique to sleep that night. A nervous +wakefulness kept her burning eyelids from closing, and her extreme +weakness seemed greater than ever. The Huberts had gone to their room, +and at last, when it was near midnight, so great a fear came over her +that she would die if she were to remain longer in bed, she preferred to +get up, notwithstanding the immense effort required to do so. + +She was almost stifled. Putting on a dressing-gown and warm slippers, +she crept along slowly as far as the window, which she opened wide. +The winter was somewhat rainy, but of a mild dampness; so the air was +pleasant to breathe. She sank back into her great armchair, after having +turned up the wick of a lamp which was on a table near her, and which +was always allowed to be kept burning during the entire night. There, +by the side of the volume of the "Golden Legend," was the bouquet of +hydrangeas and hollyhocks which she had begun to copy. That she might +once more attach herself to the life which she realised was fast passing +from her she had a sudden fancy to work, and drawing her frame forward, +she made a few stitches with her trembling fingers. The red silk of the +rose-tremiere seemed of a deeper hue than ever, in contrast with her +white hands: it was almost as if it were the blood from her veins which +was quietly flowing away drop by drop. + +But she, who for two hours had turned in vain from side to side in the +burning bedclothes, yielded almost immediately to sleep as soon as she +was seated. Her head drooped a little toward her right shoulder, being +supported by the back of her chair, and the silk remaining in her +motionless hands, a looker-on would have thought she was still +embroidering. White as snow, perfectly calm, she slept under the light +of the lamp in the chamber, still and quiet as a tomb. The faded, rosy +draperies of the great royal couch were paler than ever in their shady +corner, and the gloom of the walls of the room was only relieved by the +great chest of drawers, the wardrobe, and the chairs of old carved oak. +Minutes passed; her slumber was deep and dreamless. + +At last there was a slight sound, and Felicien suddenly appeared on the +balcony, pale, trembling, and, like herself, looking very worn and thin, +and his countenance distressed. When he saw her reclining in the easy +chair, pitiable and yet so beautiful to look at, he rushed at once into +the chamber, and his heart grew heavy with infinite grief as he went +forward, and, falling on his knees before her, gazed at her with an +expression of utter despair. Could it be that she was so hopelessly ill? +Was it unhappiness that had caused her to be so weak, and to have wasted +way to such a degree that she appeared to him light as air while she lay +there, like a feather which the slightest breath would blow away? In her +sleep, her suffering and her patient resignation were clearly seen. He +in fact would have known her only by her lily-like grace, the delicate +outlines of her neck, her drooping shoulders, and her oval face, +transfigured like that of a youthful virgin mounting towards heaven. +Her exquisite hair was now only a mass of light, and her pure soul shone +under the soft transparency of her skin. She had all the ethereal +beauty of the saints relieved from their bodies. He was both dazzled +and distressed; the violent shock rendered him incapable of moving, +and, with hands clasped, he remained silent. She did not awake as he +continued to watch her. + +A little air from the half-closed lips of Felicien must have passed +across Angelique's face, as all at once she opened her great eyes. Yet +she did not start, but in her turn looked at him with a smile, as if he +were a vision. Yes, it was he! She recognised him well, although he was +greatly changed. But she did not think she was awake, for she often saw +him thus in her dreams, and her trouble was increased when, rousing from +her sleep, she realised the truth. + +He held his hands out towards her and spoke: + +"My dearest, I love you. I was told that you were ill, and came to you +immediately. Look at me! Here I am, and I love you." + +She straightened herself up quickly. She shuddered, as with a mechanical +movement she passed her fingers over her eyes. + +"Doubt no longer, then. See me at your feet, and realise that I love you +now, as I have ever done." + +Then she exclaimed: + +"Oh! is it you? I had given up expecting you, and yet you are here." + +With her feeble, trembling hands, she had taken his, thus assuring +herself that he was not a fanciful vision of her sleep. + +He continued: + +"You have always loved me, and I love you for ever. Yes, notwithstanding +everything; and more deeply even than I should have ever thought it +possible to do." + +It was an unhoped-for excess of happiness, and in this first minute of +absolute joy they forgot everything else in the world, giving themselves +up to the delightful certainty of their mutual affection, and their +ability to declare it. The sufferings of the past, the obstacles of +the future, had disappeared as if by magic. They did not even think of +asking how it was that they had thus come together. But there they were, +mingling their tears of joy together as they embraced each other with +the purest of feelings: he was overcome with pity that she was so worn +by grief and illness that she seemed like a mere shadow in his arms. In +the enchantment of her surprise she remained half-paralysed, trembling +from exhaustion, radiant with spiritual beauty, as she lay back in her +great easy chair, so physically weary that she could not raise herself +without falling again, but intoxicated with this supreme contentment. + +"Ah, dear Seigneur, my only remaining wish is gratified. I longed to see +you before death came." + +He lifted up his head, as with a despairing movement, and said: + +"Do not speak of dying. It shall not be. I am here, and I love you." + +She smiled angelically. + +"I am not afraid to die now that you have assured me of your affection. +The idea no longer terrifies me. I could easily fall asleep in this way, +while leaning on your shoulders. Tell me once more that you love me." + +"I love you as deeply to-day as I loved you yesterday, and as I will +love you on the morrow. Do not doubt it for one moment, for it is for +eternity! Oh, yes, we will love each other for ever and ever." + +Angelique was enraptured, and with vague eyes looked directly before +her, as if seeing something beyond the cold whiteness of the chamber. +But evidently she aroused herself, as if just awaking from sleep. In +the midst of this great felicity which had appeased her, she had now had +time for reflection. The true facts of the case astonished her. + +"You have loved me! Yet why did you not at once come to see me?" + +"Your parents said that you cared for me no longer. I also nearly died +when learning that. At last, I was determined to know the whole truth, +and was sent away from the house, the door being absolutely closed +against me, and I was forbidden to return." + +"Then they shut the door in your face? Yet my mother told me that you +did not love me, and I could but believe her, since having seen you +several times with that young lady, Mademoiselle Claire, I thought +naturally you were obeying your father." + +"No. I was waiting. But it was cowardly on my part thus to tremble +before him. My great mistake has been to allow the matter to go so +far; for my duty was to have trusted only in you, to have insisted upon +seeing you personally, and to have acted with you." + +There was a short silence. Angelique sat erect for an instant, as if +she had received a blow, and her expression grew cold and hard, and her +forehead was cut by an angry wrinkle. + +"So we have both of us been deceived. Falsehoods have been told in order +to separate us from each other. Notwithstanding our mutual love, we have +been tortured to such a degree that they have almost killed us both. +Very well, then! It is abominable, and it frees us from the promises we +made. We are now at liberty to act as we will." + +An intense feeling of contempt so excited her that she stood up on her +feet. She no longer realised that she was ill, but appeared to have +regained her strength miraculously in the reawakening of all the passion +and pride of her nature. To have thought her dream ended, and all at +once to have re-found it in its full beauty and vitality, delighted her. +To be able to say that they had done nothing unworthy of their love, but +that it was other persons who had been the guilty ones, was a comfort. +This growth of herself, this at last certain triumph, exalted her and +threw her into a supreme rebellion. + +She simply said: + +"Come, let us go." + +And she walked around the room, brave in the return of her energy and +her will. She had already selected a mantle to throw over her shoulders. +A lace scarf would be sufficient for her head. + +Felicien uttered one cry of joy as she thus anticipated his desire. He +had merely thought of this flight, but had not had the boldness to dare +propose it; and how delightful indeed it would be to go away together, +to disappear, and thus put an end to all cares, to overcome all +obstacles. The sooner it was done the better, for then they would avoid +having to contend with reflection or afterthought. + +"Yes, darling, let us go immediately. I was coming to take you. I know +where we can find a carriage. Before daylight we will be far away: so +far that no one will ever be able to overtake us." + +She opened her drawers, but closed them again violently, without taking +anything therefrom, as her excitement increased. Could it be possible +that she had suffered such torture for so many weeks! She had done +everything in her power to drive him from her mind, to try to convince +herself that he cared no more for her, until at last she thought she +had succeeded in doing so. But it was of no use, and all this abominable +work must be done over again. No! she could never have strength +sufficient for that. Since they loved each other, the simplest thing +in the world to do was to be married, and then no power on earth could +separate them. + +"Let me see. What ought I to take? Oh! how foolish I have been with all +my childish scruples, when I think that others have lowered themselves +so much as even to tell us falsehoods! Yes! even were I to have died, +they would not have called you to me. But, tell me, must I take linen +and dresses? See, here is a warmer gown. What strange ideas, what +unnumbered obstacles, they put in my head. There was good on one side +and evil on the other: things which one might do, and again that which +one should never do; in short, such a complication of matters, it was +enough to make one wild. They were all falsehoods: there was no truth +in any of them. The only real happiness is to live to love the one +who loves you, and to obey the promptings of the heart. You are the +personification of fortune, of beauty, and of youth, my dear Seigneur; +my only pleasure is in you. I give myself to you freely, and you may do +with me what you wish." + +She rejoiced in this breaking-out of all the hereditary tendencies of +her nature, which she thought had died within her. Sounds of distant +music excited her. She saw as it were their royal departure: this son of +a prince carrying her away as in a fairy-tale, and making her queen +of some imaginary realm; and she was ready to follow him with her arms +clasped around his neck, her head upon his breast, with such a trembling +from intense feeling that her whole body grew weak from happiness. To be +alone together, just they two, to abandon themselves to the galloping +of horses, to flee away, and to disappear in each other's arms. What +perfect bliss it would be! + +"Is it not better for me to take nothing? What good would it do in +reality?" + +He, partaking of her feverishness, was already at the door, as he +replied: + +"No, no! Take nothing whatever. Let us go at once." + +"Yes, let us go. That is the best thing to do." + +And she rejoined him. But she turned round, wishing to give a last +look at the chamber. The lamp was burning with the same soft light, the +bouquet of hydrangeas and hollyhocks was blooming as ever, and in her +work-frame the unfinished rose, bright and natural as life, seemed to +be waiting for her. But the room itself especially affected her. Never +before had it seemed so white and pure to her; the walls, the bed, the +air even, appeared as if filled with a clear, white breath. + +Something within her wavered, and she was obliged to lean heavily +against the back of a chair that was near her and not far from the door. + +"What is the matter?" asked Felicien anxiously. + +She did not reply, but breathed with great difficulty. Then, seized with +a trembling, she could no longer bear her weight on her feet, but was +forced to sit down. + +"Do not be anxious; it is nothing. I only want to rest for a minute and +then we will go." + +They were silent. She continued to look round the room as if she had +forgotten some valuable object there, but could not tell what it was. +It was a regret, at first slight, but which rapidly increased and filled +her heart by degrees, until it almost stifled her. She could no longer +collect her thoughts. Was it this mass of whiteness that kept her back? +She had always adored white, even to such a degree as to collect bits of +silk and revel over them in secret. + +"One moment, just one moment more, and we will go away, my dear +Seigneur." + +But she did not even make an effort to rise. Very anxious, he again +knelt before her. + +"Are you suffering, my dear? Cannot I do something to make you feel +better? If you are shivering because you are cold, I will take your +little feet in my hands, and will so warm them that they will grow +strong and be able to run." + +She shook her head as she replied: + +"No, no, I am not cold. I could walk. But please wait a little, just a +single minute." + +He saw well that invisible chains seemed again to have taken possession +of her limbs, and, little by little, were attaching themselves so +strongly to her that very soon, perhaps, it would be quite impossible +for him to draw her away. Yet, if he did not take her from there at +once, if they did not flee together, he thought of the inevitable +contest with his father on the morrow, of the distressing interview +before which he had recoiled for weeks past. Then he became pressing, +and besought her most ardently. + +"Come, dear, the highways are not light at this hour; the carriage will +bear us away in the darkness, and we will go on and on, cradled in each +other's arms, sleeping as if warmly covered with down, not fearing the +night's freshness; and when the day dawns we will continue our route +in the sunshine, as we go still farther on, until we reach the country +where people are always happy. No one will know us there; we will live +by ourselves, lost in some great garden, having no other care than to +love each other more deeply than ever at the coming of each new day. We +shall find flowers as large as trees, fruits sweeter than honey. And +we will live on nothing, for in the midst of this eternal spring, dear +soul, we will live on our kisses." + +She trembled under these burning words, with which he heated her face, +and her whole being seemed to be fainting away at the representation of +these promised joys. + +"Oh! in a few minutes I will be ready; but wait a little longer." + +"Then, if journeying fatigues us, we will come back here. We will +rebuild the Chateau d'Hautecoeur, and we will pass the rest of our +lives there. That is my ideal dream. If it is necessary, we will spend +willingly all our fortune therein. Once more shall its donjon overlook +from its height the two valleys. We will make our home in the Pavilion +d'Honneur, between the Tower of David and the Tower of Charlemagne. +The colossal edifice shall be restored as in the days of its primitive +power: the galleries, the dwellings, the chapels, shall appear in the +same barbaric luxury as before. And I shall wish for us to lead the life +of olden times; you a princess and I a prince, surrounded by a large +company of armed vassals and of pages. Our walls of fifteen feet of +thickness will isolate us, and we shall be as our ancestors were, of +whom it is written in the Legend. When the sun goes down behind the +hills we will return from hunting, mounted on great white horses, +greeted respectfully by the peasants as they kneel before us. The horn +will resound in welcome, the drawbridge will be lowered for us. In the +evening, kings will dine at our table. At night, our couch will be on a +platform surmounted by a canopy like a throne. While we sleep peacefully +in purple and gold, soft music will be played in the distance." + +Quivering with pride and pleasure, she smiled now, but soon, overcome by +the great suffering that again took possession of her, her lips assumed +a mournful expression and the smile disappeared. As with a mechanical +movement of her hands she drove away the tempting pictures he called +forth, he redoubled his ardour, and wished to make her his by seizing +her and carrying her away in his arms. + +"Come, dear. Come with me. Let us go, and forget everything but our +united happiness." + +Disengaging herself brusquely, she escaped him, with an instinctive +rebellion, and trying to stand up, this cry came at last from her: + +"No, no! I cannot go. I no longer have the power to do so." + +However, again lamenting her fate, still torn by the contest in +her soul, hesitating and stammering, she again turned towards him +imploringly. + +"I beg you to be good and not hurry me too much, but wait awhile. I +would so gladly obey you, in order to prove to you my love; I would like +above all to go away on your arm to that beautiful far-away country, +where we could live royally in the castle of your dreams. It seems to me +an easy thing to do, so often have I myself planned our flight. Yet now, +what shall I say to you? It appears to me quite an impossibility; it +is as if a door had suddenly been walled up between us and prevented me +from going out." + +He wished to try to fascinate her again, but she quieted him with a +movement of her hands. + +"No; do not say anything more. It is very singular, but in proportion +as you utter such sweet, such tender words, which ought to convince me, +fear takes possession of me and chills me to the heart. My God! What is +the matter with me? It is really that which you say which drives me from +you. If you continue, I can no longer listen to you; you will be obliged +to go away. Yet wait--wait a little longer!" + +She walked very slowly about the room, anxiously seeking to resume her +self-control, while he looked at her in despair. + +"I thought to have loved you no longer; but it was certainly only a +feeling of pique, since just now, as soon as I found you again at my +feet, my heart beat rapidly, and my first impulse was to follow you as +if I were your slave. Then, if I love you, why am I afraid of you? What +is it that prevents me from leaving this room, as if invisible hands +were holding me back by my whole body, and even by each hair of my +head?" + +She had stopped near her bed; then she went as far as the wardrobe, then +to the different articles of furniture, one after the other. They all +seemed united to her person by invisible ties. Especially the walls of +the room, the grand whiteness of the mansard roof, enveloped her with +a robe of purity, that she could leave behind her only with tears; and +henceforth all this would be a part of her being; the spirit of her +surroundings had entered into her. And she realised this fact stronger +than ever when she found herself opposite her working-frame, which was +resting at the side of the table under the lamplight. Her heart softened +as she saw the half-made rose, which she would never finish were she to +go away in this secret, criminal manner. The years of work were brought +back to her mind: those quiet, happy years, during which life had been +one long experience of peace and honesty, so that now she rebelled at +the thought of committing a fault and of thus fleeing in the arms of +her lover. Each day in this little, fresh house of the embroiderers, +the active and pure life she had led there, away from all worldly +temptations, had, as it were, made over all the blood in her veins. + +Then Felicien, realising that in some inexplicable way Angelique was +being reconquered and brought to her better self, felt the necessity of +hastening their departure. He seized her hands and said: + +"Come, dear. Time passes quickly. If we wait much longer it will be too +late." + +She looked at him an instant, and then in a flash realised her true +position. Freeing herself from his grasp she exclaimed, resolutely and +frankly: + +"It is already too late. You can see for yourself that I am unable now +to follow you. Once my nature was so proud and passionate that I could +have thrown my two arms around your neck in order that you might carry +me away all the more quickly. But now I am no longer the same person. I +am so changed that I do not recognise myself. Yes, I realise now that +it is this quiet corner where I have been brought up, and the education +that has been given me, that has made me what I am at present. Do you +then yourself hear nothing? Do you not know that everything in this +chamber calls upon me to stay? And I do not rebel in the least against +this demand, for my joy at last is to obey." + +Without speaking, without attempting to discuss the question with her, +he tried to take her hands again, and to lead her like an intractable +child. Again she avoided him and turned slowly toward the window. + +"No, I beseech you to leave me. It is not my hand that you wish for, it +is my heart; and also that, of my own free will, I shall at once go away +with you. But I tell you plainly that I do not wish to do so. A while +ago I thought to have been as eager for flight as you are. But sure of +my true self now, I know it was only the last rebellion, the agony of +the old nature within me, that has just died. Little by little, without +my knowledge, the good traits of my character have been drawn together +and strongly united: humility, duty, and renunciation. So at each return +of hereditary tendency to excess, the struggle has been less severe, and +I have triumphed over temptation more easily. Now, at last, everything +assures me that the supreme contest has just taken place; that +henceforth it is finished for ever. I have conquered myself, and my +nature is freed from the evil tendencies it had. Ah! dear Seigneur, +I love you so much! Do not let us do the slightest thing to mar our +happiness. To be happy it is always necessary to submit." + +As he took another step towards her, she was at the threshold of the +great window, which was now wide open on to the balcony. She had stopped +him with a half-smile as she said: + +"You would not like to force me to throw myself down from here. Listen, +and understand me when I say to you that everything which surrounds +me is on my side. I have already told you that for a long time objects +themselves have spoken to me. I hear voices in all directions, and never +have they been so distinct as at this moment. Hear! It is the whole +Clos-Marie that encourages me not to spoil my life and yours by giving +myself to you without the consent of your father. This singing voice is +the Chevrotte, so clear and so fresh that it seems to have put within me +a purity like crystal since I have lived so near it. This other +voice, like that of a crowd, tender and deep, it is that of the entire +earth--the grasses, the trees, all the peaceable life of this sacred +corner which has so constantly worked for the good of my soul. + +"And there are other voices which come from still farther away, from the +elms of the garden of Monseigneur, and from this horizon of branches, +the smallest of which interests itself in me, and wishes for me to be +victorious. + +"Then, again, this great, sovereign voice, it is that of my old friend, +the Cathedral, who, eternally awake, both day and night, has taught me +many important things. Each one of the stones in the immense building, +the little columns in the windows, the bell-towers of its piers, +the flying buttresses of its apse, all have a murmur which I can +distinguish, a language which I understand. Listen to what they say: +that hope remains even in death. When one is really humble, love alone +remains and triumphs. And at last, look! The air itself is filled with +the whisperings of spirits. See, here are my invisible companions, the +virgins, who are ever near me and aid me. Listen, listen!" + +Smiling, she had lifted up her hand with an air of the deepest +attention, and her whole being was in ecstasy from the scattered +breathings she heard. They were the virgins of the "Golden Legend" +that her imagination called forth, as in her early childhood, and whose +mystic flight came from the old book with its quaint pictures, that was +placed on the little table. Agnes was first, clothed with her beautiful +hair, having on her finger the ring of betrothal to the Priest Paulin. +Then all the others came in turn. Barbara with her tower; Genevieve +with her sheep; Cecilia with her viol; Agatha with her wounded breast; +Elizabeth begging on the highways, and Catherine triumphing over the +learned doctors. She did not forget the miracle that made Lucy so heavy +that a thousand men and five yoke of oxen could not carry her away: nor +the Governor who became blind as he tried to embrace Anastasia. Then +others who seemed flying through the quiet night, still bearing marks of +the wounds inflicted upon them by their cruel martyrdom, and from which +rivers of milk were flowing instead of blood. Ah! to die from love like +them, to die in the purity of youth at the first kiss of a beloved one! + +Felicien had approached her. + +"I am the one person who really lives, Angelique, and you cannot give me +up for mere fancies." + +"Dreams!--fancies!" she murmured. + +"Yes; for if in reality these visions seem to surround you, it is simply +that you yourself have created them all. Come, dear; no longer put a +part of your life into objects about you, and they will be quiet." + +She gave way to a burst of enthusiastic feeling. + +"Oh no! Let them speak. Let them call out louder still! They are my +strength; they give me the courage to resist you. It is a manifestation +of the Eternal Grace, and never has it overpowered me so energetically +as now. If it is but a dream, a dream which I have placed in my +surroundings, and which comes back to me at will, what of it? It +saves me, it carries me away spotless in the midst of dangers. Listen +yourself. Yield, and obey like me. I no longer have even a wish to +follow you." + +In spite of her weakness, she made a great effort and stood up, resolute +and firm. + +"But you have been deceived," he said. "Even falsehood has been resorted +to in order to separate us!" + +"The faults of others will not excuse our own." + +"Ah! You have withdrawn your heart from me, and you love me no longer." + +"I love you. I oppose you only on account of our love and for our mutual +happiness. Obtain the consent of your father; then come for me, and I +will follow you no matter where." + +"My father! You do not know him. God only could ever make him yield. +Tell me, then, is this really to be the end of everything? If my father +orders me to marry Claire de Voincourt, must I in that case obey him?" + +At this last blow Angelique tottered. Was no torture to be spared her? +She could not restrain this heartbroken cry: + +"Oh! that is too much! My sufferings are greater than I can bear. I +beseech you go away quickly and do not be so cruel. Why did you come at +all? I was resigned. I had learned to accept the misfortune of being +no longer loved by you. Yet the moment that I am reassured of your +affection, all my martyrdom recommences; and how can you expect me to +live now?" + +Felicien, not aware of the depth of her despair, and thinking that she +had yielded simply to a momentary feeling, repeated his question: + +"If my father wishes me to marry her----" + +She struggled heroically against her intense suffering; she succeeded +in standing up, notwithstanding that her heart was crushed, and dragging +herself slowly towards the table, as if to make room for him to pass +her, she said: + +"Marry her, for it is always necessary to obey." + +In his turn he was now before the window, ready to take his departure, +because she had sent him away from her. + +"But it will make you die if I do so." + +She had regained her calmness, and, smiling sadly, she replied: + +"Oh! that work is nearly done already." + +For one moment more he looked at her, so pale, so thin, so wan; light +as a feather, to be carried away by the faintest breath. Then, with a +brusque movement of furious resolution, he disappeared in the night. + +When he was no longer there, Angelique, leaning against the back of her +armchair, stretched her hands out in agony towards the darkness, and her +frail body was shaken by heavy sobs, and cold perspiration came out upon +her face and neck. + +"My God!" This, then, was the end, and she would never see him again. +All her weakness and pain had come back to her. Her exhausted limbs no +longer supported her. It was with great difficulty that she could regain +her bed, upon which she fell helpless, but calm in spirit from the +assurance that she had done right. + +The next morning they found her there, dying. The lamp had just gone out +of itself, at the dawn of day, and everything in the chamber was of a +triumphal whiteness. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Angelique was dying. + +It was ten o'clock one cold morning towards the end of the winter, the +air was sharp, and the clear heavens were brightened up by the +beautiful sunshine. In her great royal bed, draped with its old, faded, +rose-coloured chintz, she lay motionless, having been unconscious during +the whole night. Stretched upon her back, her little ivory-like hands +carelessly thrown upon the sheet, she no longer even opened her eyes, +and her finely-cut profile looked more delicate than ever under the +golden halo of her hair; in fact, anyone who had seen her would have +thought her already dead, had it not been for the slight breathing +movement of her lips. + +The day before, Angelique, realising that she was very ill, had +confessed, and partaken of the Communion. Towards three o'clock in +the afternoon the good Abbe Cornille had brought to her the sacred +_Viaticum_. Then in the evening, as the chill of death gradually crept +over her, a great desire came to her to receive the Extreme Unction, +that celestial remedy, instituted for the cure of both the soul and +body. Before losing consciousness, her last words, scarcely murmured, +were understood by Hubertine, as in hesitating sentences she +expressed her wish for the holy oils. "Yes--oh yes!--as quickly--as +possible--before it is too late." + +But death advanced. They had waited until day, and the Abbe, having been +notified, was about to come. + +Everything was now ready to receive the clergyman. The Huberts had just +finished arranging the room. Under the gay sunlight, which at this early +morning hour struck fully upon the window-panes, it looked pure as the +dawn in the nudity of its great white walls. The table had been covered +with a fresh damask cloth. At the right and the left of the crucifix two +large wax-tapers were burning in the silver candelabrum which had been +brought up from the parlour, and there were also there the consecrated +wafers, the asperges brush, an ewer of water with its basin and a +napkin, and two plates of white porcelain, one of which was filled with +long bits of cotton, and the other with little _cornets_ of paper. The +greenhouses of the lower town had been thoroughly searched, but the +only inodorous flowers that had been found were the peonies--great white +peonies, enormous tufts of which adorned the table, like a shimmering +of white lace. And in the midst of this intense whiteness, Angelique, +dying, with closed eyes, still breathed gently with a half-perceptible +breath. + +The doctor, who had made his first morning visit, had said that she +could not live through the day. She might, indeed, pass away at any +moment, without even having come to her senses at all. The Huberts, +resolute and grave, waited in silent despair. Notwithstanding their +grief and tears, it was evidently necessary that this should be the end. +If they had ever wished for this death, preferring to lose their dear +child rather than to have her rebellious, it was evident that God also +wished it with them, and now, that in this last trying moment they were +quite powerless, they could only submit themselves to the inevitable. +They regretted nothing, although their sorrow seemed greater than they +could bear. Since she, their darling, had been there, suffering from +her long illness, they had taken the entire care of her day and night, +refusing all aid offered them from outside. They were still there alone +in this supreme hour, and they waited. + +Hubert, scarcely knowing what he did, walked mechanically to the +porcelain stove, the door of which he opened, for the gentle roaring of +the flaming wood sounded to him like a plaintive moan; then there was a +perfect silence. The peonies seemed even to turn paler in the soft heat +of the room. + +Hubertine, stronger than her husband, and still fully conscious of all +she did, listened to the sounds of the Cathedral as they came to +her from behind the walls. During the past moment the old stones had +vibrated from the swinging of the bell of the great tower. It must +certainly be the Abbe Cornille leaving the church with the sacred oils, +she thought; so she went downstairs, that she might receive him at the +door of the house. + +Two minutes later, the narrow stairway of the little tower was filled +with a great murmuring sound. Then in the warm chamber, Hubert, struck +with astonishment, suddenly began to tremble, whilst a religious fear, +mingled with a faint hope, made him fall upon his knees. Instead of the +old clergyman whom they had expected, it was Monseigneur who entered. +Yes! Monseigneur, in lace surplice, having the violet stole, and +carrying the silver vessel in which was the oil for the sick, which he +himself had blessed on Holy Thursday. His eagle-like eyes were fixed, +as he looked straight before him; his beautiful pale face was really +majestic under the thick, curly masses of his white hair. Behind him +walked the Abbe Cornille, like a simple clerk, carrying in one hand a +crucifix, and under the other a book of ritual service. + +Standing for a moment upon the threshold, the bishop said in a deep, +grave voice: + +"_Pax huic domui_." ("Peace be to this house.") + +"_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_," replied the priest in a lower tone. +("And to all the inhabitants thereof.") + +When they had entered, Hubertine, who had come up the stairs after them, +she also trembling from surprise and emotion, went and knelt by the +side of her husband. Both of them prostrated themselves most humbly, and +prayed fervently from the depths of their souls. + +A few hours after his last visit to Angelique, Felicien had had the +terrible and dreaded explanation with his father. Early in the morning +of that same day he had found open the doors, he had penetrated even +into the Oratory, where the Bishop was still at prayer, after one of +those nights of frightful struggling against the memories of the past, +which would so constantly reappear before him. In the soul of this +hitherto always respectful son, until now kept submissive by fear, +rebellion against authority, so long a time stifled, suddenly broke +forth, and the collision of these two men of the same blood, with +natures equally prompt to violence, was intense. The old man had left +his devotional chair, and with cheeks growing purple by degrees, he +listened silently as he stood there in his proud obstinacy. The young +man, with face equally inflamed, poured out everything that was in +his heart, speaking in a voice that little by little grew louder and +rebuking. He said that Angelique was not only ill, but dying. He told +him that in a pressing moment of temptation, overcome by his deep +affection, he had wished to take her away with him that they might flee +together, and that she, with the submissive humility of a saint, and +chaste as a lily, had refused to accompany him. Would it not be a most +abominable murder to allow this obedient young girl to die, because she +had been unwilling to accept him unless when offered to her by the hand +of his father? She loved him so sincerely that she could die for him. In +fact, she could have had him, with his name and his fortune, but she +had said "No," and, triumphant over her feelings, she had struggled +with herself in order to do her duty. Now, after such a proof of her +goodness, could he permit her to suffer so much grief? Like her, he +would be willing to give up everything, to die even, if it might be, and +he realised that he was cowardly. He despised himself for not being at +her side, that they might pass out of life together, by the same breath. +Was it possible that anyone could be so cruel as to wish to torment +them, that they should both have so sad a death, when one word, one +simple word, would secure them such bliss? Ah! the pride of name, the +glory of wealth, persistence in one's determination: all these were +nothing in comparison to the fact that by the union of two hearts the +eternal happiness of two human beings was assured. He joined his +hands together, he twisted them feverishly, quite beside himself as +he demanded his father's consent, still supplicating, already almost +threatening. But the Bishop, with face deeply flushed by the mounting +of his blood, with swollen lips, with flaming eyes, terrible in his +unexpressed anger, at last opened his mouth, only to reply by this word +of parental authority: "Never!" + +Then Felicien, absolutely raving in his rebellion, lost all control over +himself. + +He spoke of his mother, he really threatened his father by the +remembrance of the dead. It was she who had come back again in the shape +of her son to vindicate and reclaim the right of affection. Could it be +that his father had never loved her? Had he even rejoiced in her death, +since he showed himself so harsh towards those who loved each other, and +who wished to live? But he might well do all he could to become cold in +the renunciations demanded by the Church; she would come back to haunt +and to torture him, because he was willing to torture the child they +had had, the living witness of their affection for each other. She would +always be there, so long as their son lived. She wished to reappear in +the children of their child for ever. And he was causing her to die +over again, by refusing to her son the betrothed of his choice, the +one through whom the race was to be continued. When a man had once been +married to a woman, he should never think of wedding the Church. Face to +face with his father, who, motionless, appeared in his fearful silence +to grow taller and taller, he uttered unfilial, almost murderous words. +Then, shocked at himself, he rushed away, shuddering at the extent to +which passion had carried him. + +When once more alone, Monseigneur, as if stabbed in the full breast by +a sharp weapon, turned back upon himself and struggled deeply with his +soul, as he knelt upon his prie-Dieu. A half-rattling sound came +from his throat. Oh! these frightful heart contests, these invincible +weaknesses of the flesh. This woman, and his beloved dead, who was +constantly coming back to life, he adored her now, as he did the first +evening when he kissed her white feet; and this son, he idolised him as +belonging to her, as a part of her life, which she had left to him. And +even the young girl, the little working girl whom he had repulsed, he +loved her also with a tenderness like that of his son for her. Now his +nights were inexpressibly agitated by all three. Without his having been +willing to acknowledge it, had she then touched him so deeply as he saw +her in the great Cathedral, this little embroiderer, with her golden +hair, her fresh pure neck, in all the perfume of her youth? He saw her +again; she passed before him, so delicate, so pure in her victorious +submission. No remorse could have come to him with a step more certain +or more conquering. He might reject her with a loud voice. He knew well +that henceforth she held him strongly by the heart with her humble hands +that bore the signs of work. Whilst Felicien was so violently +beseeching him, he seemed to see them both behind the blonde head of the +petitioner--these two idolised women, the one for whom his son prayed, +and the one who had died for her child. They were there in all their +physical beauty, in all their loving devotion, and he could not tell +where he had found strength to resist, so entirely did his whole being +go out towards them. Overcome, sobbing, not knowing how he could again +become calm, he demanded from Heaven the courage to tear out his heart, +since this heart belonged no longer to God alone. + +Until evening Monseigneur continued at prayer. When he at last +reappeared he was white as wax, distressed, anxious, but still resolute. +He could do nothing more, but he repeated to his son the terrible +word--"Never!" It was God alone who had the right to relieve him from +his promise; and God, although implored, gave him no sign of change. It +was necessary to suffer. + +Some days had passed. Felicien constantly wandered round the little +house, wild with grief, eager for news. Each time that he saw anyone +come out he almost fainted from fear. Thus it happened that on the +morning when Hubertine ran to the church to ask for the sacred oils, he +learned that Angelique could not live through the day. The Abbe Cornille +was not at the Sacristy, and he rushed about the town to find him, still +having a last hope that through the intervention of the good man some +Divine aid might come. Then, as he brought back with him the sought-for +clergyman, his hope left him, and he had a frightful attack of doubt and +anger. What should he do? In what way could he force Heaven to come to +his assistance? He went away, hastened to the Bishop's palace, the +doors of which he again forced open, and before his incoherent words his +father was for a moment frightened. At last he understood. Angelique +was dying! She awaited the Extreme Unction, and now God alone could save +her. The young man had only come to cry out all his agony, to break all +relations with this cruel, unnatural father, and to accuse him to his +face of willingly allowing this death. But Monseigneur listened to him +without anger: upright and very serious, his eyes suddenly brightened +with a strange clearness, as if an inner voice had spoken to him. +Motioning to his son to lead the way, he followed him, simply saying at +last: + +"If God wishes it, I also wish it." + +Felicien trembled so that he could scarcely move. His father consented, +freed from his personal vow, to submit himself to the goodwill of the +hoped-for miracle. Henceforth they, as individuals, counted for nothing. +God must act for himself. Tears blinded him. Whilst in the Sacristy +Monseigneur took the sacred oils from the hands of the Abbe Cornille. He +accompanied them, almost staggering; he did not dare to enter into the +chamber, but fell upon his knees at the threshold of the door, which was +open wide. + +The voice of the Bishop was firm, as he said: + +"_Pax huic domui_." + +"_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_," the priest replied. + +Monseigneur had just placed on the white table, between the two +wax-candles, the sacred oils, making in the air the sign of the cross, +with the silver vase. Then he took from the hands of the Abbe the +crucifix, and approached the sufferer that he might make her kiss it. +But Angelique was still unconscious: her eyes were closed, her mouth +shut, her hands rigid, and looking like the little stiff figures of +stone placed upon tombs. He examined her for a moment, and, seeing by +the slight movement of her chest that she was not dead, he placed upon +her lips the crucifix. He waited. His face preserved the majesty of +a minister of penitence, and no signs of emotion were visible when he +realised that not even a quivering had passed over the exquisite profile +of the young girl, nor in her beautiful hair. She still lived, however, +and that was sufficient for the redemption of her sins. + +The Abbe then gave to Monseigneur the vessel of holy water and the +asperges brush, and while he held open before him the ritual book, he +threw the holy water upon the dying girl, as he read the Latin words, +_Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem +dealbabor_. ("Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: +thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.") + +The drops sprang forth in every direction, and the whole bed was +refreshed by them as if sprinkled with dew. It rained upon her hands +and upon her cheeks; but one by one the drops rolled away as if from +insensible marble. At last the Bishop turned towards the assistants and +sprinkled them in their turn. Hubert and Hubertine, kneeling side by +side, in the full union of their perfect faith, bent humbly under the +shower of this benediction. Then Monseigneur blessed also the chamber, +the furniture, the white walls in all their bare purity, and as he +passed near the door he found himself before his son, who had fallen +down on the threshold, and was sobbing violently, having covered his +face with his burning hands. With a slow movement, he raised three times +the asperges brush, and he purified him with a gentle rain. This holy +water, spread everywhere, was intended at first to drive away all evil +spirits, who were flying by crowds, although invisible. Just at this +moment a pale ray of the winter sun passed over the bed, and a multitude +of atoms, light specks of dust, seemed to be living therein. They were +innumerable as they came down from an angle of the window, as if to +bathe with their warmth the cold hands of the dying. + +Going again towards the table, Monseigneur repeated the prayer, "_Exaudi +nos_." ("Give ear to us.") + +He made no haste. It was true that death was there, hovering near the +old, faded chintz curtains, but he knew that it was patient, and that +it would wait. And although in her state of utter prostration the child +could not hear him, he addressed her as he asked her: + +"Is there nothing upon your conscience which distresses you? Confess all +your doubts and fears, my daughter; relieve your mind." + +She was still in the same position, and she was always silent. When, in +vain, he had given time for a reply, he commenced the exhortation with +the same full voice, without appearing to notice that none of his words +reached her ear. + +"Collect your thoughts, meditate, demand from the depths of your soul +pardon from God. The Sacrament will purify you, and will strengthen +you anew. Your eyes will become clear, your ears chaste, your nostrils +fresh, your mouth pure, your hands innocent." + +With eyes fixed upon her, he continued reading to the end all that was +necessary for him to say; while she scarcely breathed, nor did one of +her closed eyelids move. Then he said: + +"Recite the Creed." + +And having waited awhile, he repeated it himself: + +"_Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem_." ("I believe in one God, the +Father Almighty.") + +"Amen," replied the Abbe Cornille. + +All this time the heavy sobbing of Felicien was heard, as upon the +landing-place he wept in the enervation of hope. Hubert and Hubertine +still prayed fervently, with the same anxious waiting and desire, as if +they had felt descend upon them all the invisible powers of the Unknown. +A change now came in the service, from the murmur of half-spoken +prayers. Then the litanies of the ritual were unfolded, the invocation +to all the Saints, the flight of the Kyrie Eleison, calling Heaven to +the aid of miserable humanity, mounting each time with great outbursts, +like the fume of incense. + +Then the voices suddenly fell, and there was a deep silence. Monseigneur +washed his fingers in the few drops of water that the Abbe poured out +from the ewer. At length he took the vessel of sacred oil, opened the +cover thereof, and placed himself before the bed. It was the solemn +approach of the Sacrament of this last religious ceremony, by the +efficacy of which are effaced all mortal or venial sins not pardoned, +which rest in the soul after having received the other sacraments, old +remains of forgotten sins, sins committed unwittingly, sins of languor +which prevented one from being firmly re-established in the grace of +God. The pure white chamber seemed to be like the individuals collected +therein, motionless, and in a state of surprise and expectation. Where +could all these sins be found? They must certainly come from outside in +this great band of sun's rays, filled with dancing specks of dust, which +appeared to bring germs of life even to this great royal couch, so white +and cold from the coming of death to a pure young maiden. + +Monseigneur meditated a moment, fixing his looks again upon Angelique, +assuring himself that the slight breath had not ceased, struggling +against all human emotion, as he saw how thin she was, with the beauty +of an archangel, already immaterial. His voice retained the authority of +a divine disinterestedness, and his thumb did not tremble when he dipped +it into the sacred oils as he commenced the unctions on the five parts +of the body where dwell the senses: the five windows by which evil +enters into the soul. + +First upon the eyes, upon the closed eyelids, the right and then the +left; and slowly, lightly, he traced with his thumb the sign of the +Cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum deliquisti_." ("By this holy +anointing and His gracious mercy, the Lord forgive whatever sins thou +hast committed through _seeing_.")[*] + + [*] This formula is repeated with reference to the other + senses--hearing, smell, taste, and touch. + +And the sins of the sight were redeemed; lascivious looks, immodest +curiosity, the pride of spectacles, unwholesome readings, tears shed for +guilty troubles. + +And she, dear child, knew no other book than the "Golden Legend," no +other horizon than the apse of the Cathedral, which hid from view all +the rest of the world. She had wept only in the struggle of obedience +and the renunciation of passion. + +The Abbe Cornille wiped both her eyes with a bit of cotton, which he +afterwards put into one of the little cornets of paper. + +Then Monseigneur anointed the ears, with their lobes as delicate and +transparent as pearl, first the right ear, afterwards the left, scarcely +moistened with the sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per auditum deliquisti_." + +So all the abominations of hearing were atoned for: all the words and +music which corrupt, the slanders, the calumnies, the blasphemies, the +sinful propositions listened to with complacency, the falsehoods of love +which aided the forgetfulness of duty, the profane songs which excited +the senses, the violins of the orchestra which, as it were, wept +voluptuously under the brilliant lights. + +She in her isolated life, like that of a cloistered nun--she had never +even heard the free gossip of the neighbours, or the oath of a carman as +he whips his horses. The only music that had ever entered her ears was +that of the sacred hymns, the rumblings of the organs, the confused +murmurings of prayers, with which at times vibrated all this fresh +little house, so close to the side of the great church. + +The Abbe, after having dried the ears with cotton, put that bit also +into one of the white cornets. + +Monseigneur now passed to the nostrils, the right and then the left, +like two petals of a white rose, which he purified by touching them with +the sacred oil and making on them the sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per odoratum deliquisti_." + +And the sense of smell returned to its primitive innocence, cleansed +from all stain: not only from the carnal disgrace of perfumes, from +the seduction of flowers with breath too sweet, from the scattered +fragrances of the air which put the soul to sleep; but yet again from +the faults of the interior sense, the bad examples given to others, and +the contagious pestilence of scandal. Erect and pure, she had at last +become a lily among the lilies, a great lily whose perfume fortified the +weak and delighted the strong. In fact, she was so truly delicate that +she could never endure the powerful odour of carnations, the musk of +lilacs, the feverish sweetness of hyacinths, and was only at ease with +the scentless blossoms, like the marguerites and the periwinkles. + +Once more the Abbe, with the cotton, dried the anointed parts, and +slipped the little tuft into another of the cornets. + +Then Monseigneur, descending to the closed mouth, through which the +faint breath was now scarcely perceptible, made upon the lower lip the +sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per gustum deliquisti_." + +This time it was the pardon for the base gratifications of taste, +greediness, too great a desire for wine, or for sweets; but especially +the forgiveness for sins of the tongue, that universally guilty member, +the provoker, the poisoner, the inventor of quarrels, the inciter to +wars, which makes one utter words of error and falsehood which at length +obscure even the heavens. Yet her whole mouth was only a chalice of +innocence. She had never had the vice of gluttony, for she had taught +herself, like Elizabeth, to eat whatever was set before her, without +paying great attention to her food. And if it were true that she lived +in error, it was the fault of her dream which had placed her there, the +hope of a beyond, the consolation of what was invisible, and all the +world of enchantment which her ignorance had created and which had made +of her a saint. + +The Abbe having dried the lips, folded the bit of cotton in the fourth +white cornet. + +At last Monseigneur anointed first the right and then the left palms of +the two little ivory-like hands, lying open upon the sheet, and cleansed +them from their sins with the sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per tactum deliquisti_." + +And the whole body was purified, being washed from its last spots--those +of the touch the most repugnant of all. Pilfering, fighting, murder, +without counting other sins of the breast, the body, and the feet, which +were also redeemed by this unction. All which burns in the flesh, our +anger, our desires, our unruled passions, the snares and pitfalls into +which we run, and all forbidden joys by which we are tempted. Since she +had been there, dying from her victory over herself, she had conquered +her few failings, her pride and her passion, as if she had inherited +original sin simply for the glory of triumphing over it. She knew not, +even, that she had had other wishes, that love had drawn her towards +disobedience, so armed was she with the breastplate of ignorance of +evil, so pure and white was her soul. + +The Abbe wiped the little motionless hands, and putting the last puff of +cotton in the remaining cornet, he threw the five papers into the fire +at the back of the stove. + +The ceremony was finished. Monseigneur washed his fingers before saying +the final prayer. He had now only to again exhort the dying, in placing +in her hand the symbolic taper, to drive away the demons, and to show +that she had just recovered her baptismal innocence. But she remained +rigid, her eyes closed, her mouth shut as if dead. The holy oils had +purified her body, the signs of the cross had left their traces on the +five windows of the soul, without making the slightest wave of colour, +or of life, mount to her cheeks. + +Although implored and hoped for, the prodigy did not appear, and the +room was silent and anxious. Hubert and Hubertine, still kneeling +side by side, no longer prayed, but, with their eyes fixed upon their +darling, gazed so earnestly that they both seemed motionless for ever, +like the figures of the _donataires_ who await the Resurrection in a +corner of an old painted glass window. Felicien had drawn himself up on +his knees and was now at the door, having ceased from sobbing, as with +head erect he also might see if God would always remain deaf to their +prayers. Was it then a mere lure? Would not this holy Sacrament bring +her back to life? + +For the last time Monseigneur approached the bed, followed by the Abbe +Cornille, who held, already lighted, the wax-taper which was to be +placed in the hand of the young girl. And the Bishop, not willing +to acknowledge the state of unconsciousness in which she remained, +determining to go even to the end of the rite, that God might have time +in which to work, pronounced the formula:-- + +"_Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas in +saecula saeculorum_." ("Receive this light, and keep the unction thou +hast received, that when the Lord shall come to judgment thou mayest +meet Him with all His saints, and live with Him for ever and ever.") + +"Amen," replied the Abbe. + +But when they endeavoured to open Angelique's hand and to press it round +the taper, the hand, powerless, as if already dead, escaped them and +fell back upon her breast. + +Then, little by little, Monseigneur yielded to a great nervous +trembling. It was the emotion which, for a long time restrained, +now broke out within him, carrying away with it the last rigidity of +priesthood. He dearly loved her, this child, from the day when she had +come to sob at his feet, so innocent, and showing so plainly the pure +freshness of her youth. Since then, in his nights of distress, he had +contended chiefly against her, to defend himself from the overwhelming +tenderness with which she inspired him. At this moment she was worthy of +pity, with this pallor of death, with an ethereal beauty which showed, +however, so deep a suffering that he could not look at her without his +heart being secretly overwhelmed with distress. + +He could no longer control himself. His eyelids were swollen by the +great tears which at last rolled down his cheeks. She must not die in +this way: he was conquered by her touching charms even in death, and all +his paternal feelings went out towards her. + +Then Monseigneur, recalling to mind the numerous miracles of his race, +the power which had been given them by Heaven to heal, thought that +doubtless God awaited his consent as a father. He invoked Saint Agnes, +before whom all his ancestors had offered up their devotions, and as +Jean V d'Hautecoeur prayed at the bedside of those smitten by the plague +and kissed them, so now he prayed and kissed Angelique upon her lips. + +"If God wishes, I also wish it." + +Immediately Angelique opened her eyelids. She looked at the Bishop +without surprise as she awoke from her long trance, and, her lips still +warm from the kiss, smiled upon him. These things were not strange to +her, for they certainly must have been realised sooner or later, and +it might be that she was coming out of one dream only to have another +still; but it seemed to her perfectly natural that Monseigneur should +have come to betroth her to Felicien, since the hour for that ceremony +had arrived. In a few minutes, unaided, she sat up in the middle of her +great royal bed. + +The Bishop, radiant, showing by his expression his clear appreciation of +the remarkable prodigy, repeated the formula:-- + +"_Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas in +saecula saeculorum_." + +"Amen," replied the Abbe. + +Angelique had taken the lighted taper, and held it up with a firm hand. +Life had come back to her, like the flame of the candle, which was +burning clear and bright, driving away the spirits of the night. + +A great cry resounded through the room. Felicien was standing up, as if +raised by the power of the miracle, while the Huberts, overwhelmed by +the same feeling, remained upon their knees, with wonder-stricken eyes, +with delighted countenances, before that which they had seen. The bed +had appeared to them enveloped with a brilliant light; white masses +seemed still to be mounting up on the rays of the sunlight, and the +great walls, the whole room in fact, kept a white lustre, as that of +snow. + +In the midst of all, Angelique, like a refreshed lily, replaced upon +its branch, appeared in the clear light. Her fine golden hair was like a +halo of glory around her head, her violet-coloured eyes shone divinely, +and her pure face beamed with a living splendour. + +Felicien, seeing that she was saved, touched by the Divine grace that +Heaven had vouchsafed them, approached her, and knelt by the side of the +bed. + +"Ah! dear soul, you recognise us now, and you will live. I am yours. My +father wishes it to be so, since God has desired it." + +She bowed her head, smiling sweetly as she said, "Oh! I knew it must be +so, and waited for it. All that I have foreseen will come to pass." + +Monseigneur, who had regained his usual proud serenity, placed the +crucifix once more on her lips, and this time she kissed it as a +submissive servant. Then, with a full movement of his hands, through +the room, above the heads of all present, the Bishop gave the final +benediction, while the Huberts and the Abbe Cornille wept. + +Felicien had taken one of the little hands of Angelique, while in the +other little hand the taper of innocence burned bright and clear. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The marriage was fixed for the early part of March. But Angelique +remained very feeble, notwithstanding the joy which radiated from her +whole person. She had wished after the first week of her convalescence +to go down to the workroom, persisting in her determination to finish +the panel of embroidery in bas-relief which was to be used for the +Bishop's chair. + +"It would be," she said cheerfully, "her last, best piece of work; and +besides, no one ever leaves," she added, "an order only half-completed." + +Then exhausted by the effort, she was again forced to keep her chamber. +She lived there, happy and smiling, without regaining the full health +of former times, always white and immaterial as the sacred sacramental +oils; going and coming with a gentle step like that of a vision, and +after having occasionally made the exertion of walking as far as from +her table to the window, finding herself obliged to rest quietly for +hours and give herself up to her sweet thoughts. At length they deferred +the wedding-day, thinking it better to wait for her complete recovery, +which must certainly come if she were well nursed and cared for. + +Every afternoon Felicien went up to see her. Hubert and Hubertine were +there, and they passed together most delightful hours, during which they +continually made and re-made the same bright projects. Seated in her +great chair she laughed gaily, seemed trembling with life and vivacity, +as she was the first to talk of the days which would be so well filled +when together they could take long journeys; and of all the unknown +joys that would come to them after they had restored the old Chateau +d'Hautecoeur. Anyone, to have seen her then, would have considered her +saved and regaining her strength in the backward spring, the air of +which, growing warmer and warmer daily, entered by the open window. In +fact, she never fell back into the deep gravities of her dreams, except +when she was entirely alone and was not afraid of being seen. In the +night, voices still appeared to be near her: then it seemed as if the +earth were calling to her; and at last the truth was clearly revealed to +her, so that she fully understood that the miracle was being continued +only for the realisation of her dream. Was she not already dead, having +simply the appearance of living, thanks to the respite which had +been granted her from Divine Grace? This idea soothed her with deep +gentleness in her hours of solitude, and she did not feel a moment's +regret at the thought of being called away from life in the midst of her +happiness, so certain was she of always realising to its fullest extent +her anticipated joy. The cheerfulness she had hitherto shown became +simply a little more serious; she abandoned herself to it quietly, +forgetting her physical weakness as she indulged in the pure delights +of fancy. It was only when she heard the Huberts open the door, or when +Felicien came to see her, that she was able to sit upright, to bring +her thoughts back to her surroundings, and to appear as if she were +regaining her health, laughing pleasantly while she talked of their +years of happy housekeeping far away, in the days to come. + +Towards the end of March Angelique grew very restless and much weaker. +Twice, when by herself, she had long fainting fits. One morning she +fell at the foot of her bed, just as Hubert was bringing her up a cup +of milk; by a great effort of will she conquered herself, and, that +she might deceive him, she remained on the floor and smiled, as +she pretended to be looking for a needle that had been dropped. The +following day she was gayer than usual, and proposed hastening the +marriage, suggesting that at all events it should not be put off any +later than the middle of April. All the others exclaimed at this idea, +asking if it would not be advisable to wait awhile, since she was still +so delicate. There was no need of being in such a hurry. She, however, +seemed feverishly nervous, and insisted that the ceremony should take +place immediately--yes, as soon as possible. Hubertine, surprised at +the request, having a suspicion as to the true motive of this eagerness, +looked at her earnestly for a moment, and turned very pale as she +realised how slight was the cold breath which still attached her +daughter to life. The dear invalid had already grown calm, in her tender +need of consoling others and keeping them under an illusion, although +she knew personally that her case was hopeless. Hubert and Felicien, +in continual adoration before their idol, had neither seen nor +felt anything unusual. Then Angelique, exerting herself almost +supernaturally, rose up, and was more charming than ever, as she slowly +moved back and forth with the light step of former days. She continued +to speak of her wish, saying if it were granted she would be so happy, +and that after the wedding she would certainly be cured. Moreover, the +question should be left to Monseigneur; he alone should decide it. That +same evening, when the Bishop was there, she explained her desire to +him, fixing her eyes on his, regarding him steadily and beseechingly, +and speaking in her sweet, earnest voice, under which there was hidden +an ardent supplication, unexpressed in words. Monseigneur realised it, +and understood the truth, and he appointed a day in the middle of April +for the ceremony. + +Then they lived in great commotion from the necessary bustle attendant +upon the preparations for the marriage. Notwithstanding his official +position as guardian, Hubert was obliged to ask permission, or rather +the consent of the Director of Public Assistance, who always represented +the family council, Angelique not yet being of age; and Monsieur +Grandsire, the Justice of the Peace, was charged with all legal details, +in order to avoid as much as possible the painful side of the position +to the young girl and to Felicien. But the dear child, realising that +something was being kept back, asked one day to have her little book +brought up to her, wishing to put it herself into the hands of her +betrothed. She was now, and would henceforth remain, in a state of such +sincere humility that she wished him to know thoroughly from what a +low position he had drawn her, to elevate her to the glory of his +well-honoured name and his great fortune. These were her parchments, +her titles to nobility; her position was explained by this official +document, this entry on the calendar where there was only a date +followed by a number. She turned over all the leaves once more, then +gave it to him without being confused, happy in thinking that in herself +she was nothing, but that she owed everything to him. So deeply touched +was he by this act, that he knelt down, kissed her hands while tears +came to his eyes, as if it were she who had made him the one gift, the +royal gift of her heart. + +For two weeks the preparations occupied all Beaumont, both the upper and +the lower town being in a state of great excitement therefrom. It was +said that twenty working-girls were engaged day and night upon the +trousseau. The wedding-dress alone required three persons to make it, +and there was to be a _corbeille_, or present from the bridegroom, to +the value of a million of francs: a fluttering of laces, of velvets, of +silks and satins, a flood of precious stones--diamonds worthy a Queen. +But that which excited the people more than all else was the great +amount given in charity, the bride having wished to distribute to +the poor as much as she had received herself. So another million was +showered down upon the country in a rain of gold. At length she was able +to gratify all her old longings of benevolence, all the prodigalities +of her most exaggerated dreams, as with open hands she let fall upon the +wretched and needy a stream of riches, an overflow of comforts. In her +little, white, bare chamber, confined to her old armchair, she laughed +with delight when the Abbe Cornille brought to her the list of the +distributions he had made. "Give more! Give more!" she cried, as it +seemed to her as if not enough were done. She would, in reality, have +liked to have seen the Pere Mascart seated for ever at a table before +a princely banquet; the Chouteaux living in palatial luxury; the _mere_ +Gabet cured of her rheumatism, and by the aid of money to have renewed +her youth. As for the Lemballeuse, the mother and daughters, she +absolutely wished to load them with silk dresses and jewellery. The hail +of golden pieces redoubled over the town as in fairy-tales, far beyond +the daily necessities, as if merely for the beauty and joy of seeing the +triumphal golden glory, thrown from full hands, falling into the street +and glittering in the great sunlight of charity. + +At last, on the eve of the happy day, everything was in readiness. +Felicien had bought a large house on the Rue Magloire, at the back +of the Bishop's palace, which had been fitted up and furnished most +luxuriously. There were great rooms hung with admirable tapestries, +filled with the most beautiful articles imaginable; a salon in old, rare +pieces of hand embroidery; a boudoir in blue, soft as the early morning +sky; and a sleeping-room, which was particularly attractive: a perfect +little corner of white silk and lace--nothing, in short, but white, +airy, and light--an exquisite shimmering of purity. But Angelique had +constantly refused to go to see all these wonderful things, although +a carriage was always ready to convey her there. She listened to the +recital of that which had been done with an enchanted smile, but she +gave no orders, and did not appear to wish to occupy herself with any of +the arrangements. "No, no," she said, for all these things seemed so far +away in the unknown of that vast world of which she was as yet totally +ignorant. Since those who loved her had prepared for her so tenderly +this happiness, she desired to partake thereof, and to enter therein +like a princess coming from some chimerical country, who approaches +the real kingdom where she is to reign for ever. In the same way she +preferred to know nothing, except by hearsay, of the _corbeille_, which +also was waiting for her--a superb gift from her betrothed, the wedding +outfit of fine linen, embroidered with her cipher as marchioness, the +full-dress costumes tastefully trimmed, the old family jewels valuable +as the richest treasures of a cathedral, and the modern jewels in their +marvellous yet delicate mountings, precious stones of every kind, and +diamonds of the purest water. It was sufficient to her that her dream +had come to pass, and that this good future awaited her in her new home, +radiant in the reality of the new life that was opening before her. The +only thing she saw was her wedding-dress, which was brought to her on +the marriage morning. + +That day, when she awoke, Angelique, still alone, had in her great bed +a moment of intense exhaustion, and feared that she would not be able to +get up at all. She attempted to do so, but her knees bent under her; +and in contrast to the brave serenity she had shown for weeks past, a +fearful anguish, the last, perhaps, took utter possession of her. Then, +as in a few minutes Hubertine came into the room, looking unusually +happy, she was surprised to find that she could really walk, for she +certainly did not do so from her own strength, but aid came to her +from the Invisible, and friendly hands sustained and carried her. They +dressed her; she no longer seemed to weigh anything, but was so slight +and frail that her mother was astonished, and laughingly begged her not +to move any more if she did not wish to fly quite away. During all the +time of preparing her toilette, the little fresh house of the Huberts, +so close to the side of the Cathedral, trembled under the great +breath of the Giant, of that which already was humming therein, of the +preparations for the ceremony, the nervous activity of the clergy, and +especially the ringing of the bells, a continuous peal of joy, with +which the old stones were vibrating. + +In the upper town, for over an hour there had been a glorious chiming +of bells, as on the greatest holy days. The sun had risen in all its +beauty, and on this limpid April morning a flood of spring rays seemed +living with the sonorous peals which had called together all the +inhabitants of the place. The whole of Beaumont was in a state of +rejoicing on account of the marriage of this little embroiderer, to whom +their hearts were so deeply attached, and they were touched by the fact +of her royal good fortune. This bright sunlight, which penetrated all +the streets, was like the golden rain, the gifts of fairy-tales, rolling +out from her delicate hands. Under this joyful light, the multitude +crowded in masses towards the Cathedral, filling the side-aisles of the +church, and coming out on to the Place du Cloitre. There the great front +of the building rose up, like a huge bouquet of stone, in full blossom, +of the most ornamental Gothic, above the severe Romanesque of the +foundation. In the tower the bells still rung, and the whole facade +seemed to be like a glorification of these nuptials, expressive of the +flight of this poor girl through all the wonders of the miracle, as +it darted up and flamed, with its open lace-work ornamentations, the +lily-like efflorescence of its little columns, its balustrades, and its +arches, the niches of saints surmounted with canopies, the gable ends +hollowed out in trefoil points, adorned with crossettes and flowers, +immense rose-windows opening out in the mystic radiation of their +mullions. + +At ten o'clock the organs pealed. Angelique and Felicien were +there, walking with slow steps towards the high altar, between the +closely-pressed ranks of the crowd. A breath of sincere, touching +admiration came from every side. He, deeply moved, passed along proud +and serious, with his blonde beauty of a young god appearing slighter +than ever from his closely-fitting black dress-coat. But she, above all, +struck the hearts of the spectators, so exquisite was she, so divinely +beautiful with a mystic, spiritual charm. Her dress was of white watered +silk, simply covered with rare old Mechlin lace, which was held by +pearls, a whole setting of them designing the ruches of the waist and +the ruffles of the skirt. A veil of old English point was fastened to +her head by a triple crown of pearls, and falling to her feet, quite +covered her. That was all--not a flower, not a jewel, nothing but this +slight vision, this delicate, trembling cloud, which seemed to have +placed her sweet little face between two white wings, like that of the +Virgin of the painted glass window, with her violet eyes and her golden +hair. + +Two armchairs, covered with crimson velvet, had been placed for Felicien +and Angelique before the altar; and directly behind them, while the +organs increased their phrases of welcome, Hubert and Hubertine knelt +on the low benches which were destined for the family. The day before an +intense joy had come to them, from the effects of which they had not yet +recovered, and they were incapable of expressing their deep, heartfelt +thanks for their own happiness, which was so closely connected with that +of their daughter. Hubertine, having gone once more to the cemetery, +saddened by the thought of their loneliness, and the little house, which +would seem so empty after the departure of the dearly-beloved child, had +prayed to her mother for a long time; when suddenly she felt within her +an inexplicable relief and gladness, which convinced her that at last +her petition had been granted. From the depths of the earth, after more +than twenty years, the obstinate mother had forgiven them, and sent them +the child of pardon so ardently desired and longed for. Was this the +recompense of their charity towards the poor forlorn little creature +whom they had found one snowy day at the Cathedral entrance, and who +to-day was to wed a prince with all the show and pomp of the greatest +ceremony? They remained on their knees, without praying in formulated +words, enraptured with gratitude, their whole souls overflowing with +an excess of infinite thanksgiving. And on the other side of the nave, +seated on his high, official throne, Monseigneur was also one of the +family group. He seemed filled with the majesty of the God whom he +represented; he was resplendent in the glory of his sacred vestments, +and the expression of his countenance was that of a proud serenity, as +if he were entirely freed from all worldly passions. Above his head, +on the panel of wonderful embroidery, were two angels supporting the +brilliant coat of arms of Hautecoeur. + +Then the solemn service began. All the clergy connected with the +cathedral were present to do honour to their Bishop, and priests had +come from the different parishes to assist them. Among the crowd of +white surplices which seemed to overflow the grating, shone the golden +capes of the choristers, and the red robes of the singing-boys. The +almost eternal night of the side-aisles, crushed down by the weight of +the heavy Romanesque chapels, was this morning slightly brightened by +the limpid April sunlight, which struck the painted glass of the windows +so that they seemed to be a burning of gems, a sacred bursting into +blossom of luminous flowers. But the background of the nave particularly +blazed with a swarming of wax-tapers, tapers as innumerable as the stars +of evening in a summer sky. In the centre, the high altar seemed on fire +from them, a true "burning bush," symbolic of the flame that consumes +souls; and there were also candles in large candelabra and in +chandeliers, while before the plighted couple, two enormous lustres with +round branches looked like two suns. About them was a garden of masses +of green plants and of living blossoms, where were in flower great tufts +of white azaleas, of white camellias, and of lilacs. Away to the back +of the apse sparkled bits of gold and silver, half-seen skirts of velvet +and of silk, a distant dazzling of the tabernacle among the sombre +surroundings of green verdure. Above all this burning the nave sprang +out, and the four enormous pillars of the transept mounted upward to +support the arched vaulting, in the trembling movement of these myriads +of little flames, which almost seemed to pale at times in the full +daylight which entered by the high Gothic windows. + +Angelique had wished to be married by the good Abbe Cornille, and when +she saw him come forward in his surplice, and with the white stole, +followed by two clerks, she smiled. This was at last the triumphant +realisation of her dream--she was wedding fortune, beauty, and power far +beyond her wildest hopes. The church itself was singing by the organs, +radiant with its wax-tapers, and alive with the crowd of believers and +priests, whom she knew to be around her on every side. Never had the old +building been more brilliant or filled with a more regal pomp, enlarged +as it were in its holy, sacred luxury, by an expansion of happiness. +Angelique smiled again in the full knowledge that death was at her +heart, celebrating its victory over her, in the midst of this +glorious joy. In entering the Cathedral she had glanced at the Chapel +d'Hautecoeur, where slept Laurette and Balbine, the "Happy Dead," who +passed away when very young, in the full happiness of their love. +At this last hour she was indeed perfect. Victorious over herself, +reclaimed, renewed, having no longer any feeling of passion or of pride +at her triumph, resigned at the knowledge that her life was fast leaving +her, in this beautiful Hosanna of her great friend, the blessed old +church. When she fell upon her knees, it was as a most humble, most +submissive servant, entirely free from the stain of original sin; and in +her renunciation she was thoroughly content. + +The Abbe Cornille, having mounted to the altar, had just come down +again. In a loud voice he made the exhortation; he cited as an example +the marriage which Jesus had contracted with the Church; he spoke of the +future, of days to come when they would live and govern themselves in +the true faith; of children whom they must bring up as Christians; and +then, once more, in face of this hope, Angelique again smiled sweetly, +while Felicien trembled at the idea of all this happiness, which he +believed to be assured. Then came the consecrated demands of the ritual, +the replies which united them together for their entire existence, the +decisive "Yes"--which she pronounced in a voice filled with emotion from +the depths of her heart, and which he said in a much louder tone, and +with a tender earnestness. The irrevocable step was taken, the clergyman +had placed their right hands together, one clasping the other, as he +repeated the prescribed formula: "I unite you in matrimony, in the name +of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Ghost." But there were +still rings to be blessed, the symbols of inviolable fidelity, and of +the eternity of the union, which is lasting. In the silver basin, above +the rings of gold, the priest shook back and forth the asperges brush, +and making the sign of the Cross over each one, said, "Bless, O Lord, +this ring." + +Then he presented them to the young couple, to testify to them that the +Church sanctified their union; that for the husband henceforth his heart +was sealed, and no other woman could ever enter therein; and the husband +was to place the ring upon his wife's finger in order to show her, in +his turn, that henceforth he alone among all men existed for her. This +was the strict union, without end, the sign of her dependence upon him, +which would recall to her constantly the vows she had made; it was also +the promise of a long series of years, to be passed together, as if by +this little circle of gold they were attached to each other even to the +grave. + +And while the priest, after the final prayers, exhorted them once more, +Angelique wore always the sweet expression of renunciation; she, the +pure soul, who knew the truth. + +Then, as the Abbe Cornille withdrew, accompanied by his clerks, the +organs again burst forth with peals of joy. Monseigneur, motionless +until now, bent towards the young couple with an expression of great +mildness in his eagle-like eyes. Still on their knees, the Huberts +lifted their heads, blinded by their tears of joy. And the enormous +depths of the organs' peals rolled and lost themselves by degrees in a +hail of little sharp notes, which were swept away under the high arches, +like the morning song of the lark. There was a long waving movement, +a half-hushed sound amongst the reverential crowd, who filled to +overflowing even the side-aisles and the nave. The church, decorated +with flowers, glittering with the taper lights, seemed beaming with joy +from the Sacrament. + +Then there were nearly two hours more of solemn pomp; the Mass being +sung and the incense being burnt. + +The officiating clergyman had appeared, dressed in his white chasuble, +accompanied by the director of the ceremonies, two censer-bearers +carrying the censer and the vase of incense, and two acolytes bearing +the great golden candlesticks, in which were lighted tapers. + +The presence of Monseigneur complicated the rites, the salutations, and +the kisses. Every moment there were bowings, or bendings of the knee, +which kept the wings of the surplices in constant motion. In the old +stalls, with their backs of carved wood, the whole chapter of canons +rose; and then again, at other times it was as if a breath from heaven +prostrated at once the clergy, by whom the whole apse was filled. The +officiating priest chanted at the altar. When he had finished, he went +to one side, and took his seat while the choir in its turn for a long +time continued the solemn phrases of the services in the fine, clear +notes of the young choristers, light and delicate as the flutes of +archangels. Among these voices was a very beautiful one, unusually pure +and crystalline, that of a young girl, and most delicious to hear. It +was said to be that of Mademoiselle Claire de Voincourt, who had wished +and obtained permission to sing at this marriage, which had been so +wonderfully secured by a miracle. The organ which accompanied her +appeared to sigh in a softened manner, with the peaceful calm of a soul +at ease and perfectly happy. + +There were occasionally short spells of silence. Then the music burst +out again with formidable rollings, while the master of the ceremonies +summoned the acolytes with their chandeliers, and conducted the +censer-bearers to the officiating clergyman, who blessed the incenses in +the vases. Now there was constantly heard the movements of the censer, +with the silvery sound of the little chains as they swung back and forth +in the clear light. There was in the air a bluish, sweet-scented cloud, +as they incensed the Bishop, the clergy, the altar, the Gospel, each +person and each thing in its turn, even the close crowd of people, +making the three movements, to the right, to the left, and in front, to +mark the Cross. + +In the meantime Angelique and Felicien, on their knees, listened +devoutly to the Mass, which is significant of the mysterious +consummation of the marriage of Jesus and the Church. There had been +given into the hands of each a lighted candle, symbol of the purity +preserved since their baptism. After the Lord's Prayer they had remained +under the veil, which is a sign of submission, of bashfulness, and of +modesty; and during this time the priest, standing at the right-hand +side of the altar, read the prescribed prayers. They still held the +lighted tapers, which serve also as a sign of remembrance of death, even +in the joy of a happy marriage. And now it was finished, the offering +was made, the officiating clergyman went away, accompanied by the +director of the ceremonies, the incense-bearers, and the acolytes, after +having prayed God to bless the newly-wedded couple, in order that they +might live to see and multiply their children, even to the third and +fourth generation. + +At this moment the entire Cathedral seemed living and exulting with +joy. The March Triumphal was being played upon the organs with such +thunder-like peals that they made the old edifice fairly tremble. The +entire crowd of people now rose, quite excited, and straining themselves +to see everything; women even mounted on the chairs, and there were +closely-pressed rows of heads as far back as the dark chapels of the +outer side-aisles. In this vast multitude every face was smiling, every +heart beat with sympathetic joy. In this final adieu the thousands of +tapers appeared to burn still higher, stretching out their flames like +tongues of fire, vacillating under the vaulted arches. A last Hosanna +from the clergy rose up through the flowers and the verdure in the midst +of the luxury of the ornaments and the sacred vessels. But suddenly the +great portal under the organs was opened wide, and the sombre walls of +the church were marked as if by great sheets of daylight. It was the +clear April morning, the living sun of the spring-tide, the Place du +Cloitre, which was now seen with its tidy-looking, white houses; and +there another crowd, still more numerous, awaited the coming of the +bride and bridegroom, with a more impatient eagerness, which already +showed itself by gestures and acclamations. The candles had grown paler, +and the noises of the street were drowned in the music of the organs. + +With a slow step, between the double hedge of the worshippers, Angelique +and Felicien turned towards the entrance-door. After the triumphant +carrying out of her dream, she was now about to enter into the reality +of life. This porch of broad sunlight opened into the world of which +as yet she was entirely ignorant. She retarded her steps as she looked +earnestly at the rows of houses, at the tumultuous crowd, at all which +greeted and acclaimed her. Her weakness was so intense that her husband +was obliged to almost carry her. However, she was still able to look +pleased, as she thought of the princely house, filled with jewels and +with queenly toilettes, where the nuptial chamber awaited her, all +decorated with white silk and lace. Almost suffocated, she was obliged +to stop when halfway down the aisle; then she had sufficient strength +to take a few steps more. She glanced at her wedding ring, so recently +placed upon her finger, and smiled at this sign of eternal union. Then, +on the threshold of the great door, at the top of the steps which went +down into the Place du Cloitre, she tottered. Had she not really arrived +at the summit of her happiness? Was not it there that the joy of her +life, being perfected, was to end? With a last effort she raised herself +as much as possible, that she might put her lips upon the lips of +Felicien. And in that kiss of love she passed away for ever. + +But her death was without sadness. Monseigneur, with his habitual +movement of pastoral benediction, aided this pure soul to free itself +from the frail body. He had regained his calmness, and had once more +found in the fulfillment of his sacred calling the desired-for peace. + +The Huberts, unconscious of what had taken place, were still kneeling, +grateful for the pardon at last granted them, and feeling as if +re-entering into existence. For them, as well as for their beloved +daughter, the dream was accomplished. All the Cathedral and the whole +town were _en fete_. The organs sounded louder than ever; the bells +pealed joyously; the multitude waited to greet the loving couple on the +threshold of the mystic church under the glorious spring sunlight. + +It was indeed a beautiful death. Angelique, happy and pure, carried away +suddenly at the moment of the realisation of her fondest dream, taken +into the heavenly life from the dark Romanesque chapels with the +flamboyant, Gothic-vaulted ceiling, from among the gilded decorations +and paintings of ancient times, in the full Paradise of Golden Legends. +What more could she have asked for? + +Felicien held in his arms simply a soft and tender form, from which life +had departed; this bridal robe of lace and pearls seemed like the light +wings of a bird, still warm to the touch. For a long time he had well +known that he could claim but a shadow. The exquisite vision that came +from the Invisible had returned to the Invisible. + +It was merely a semblance, which effaced itself; the vanishing of an +illusion. + +Everything is only a dream. + +And so, at the moment of supreme earthly happiness, Angelique had +disappeared in the slight breath of a loving kiss. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dream, by Emile Zola + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM *** + +***** This file should be named 9499.txt or 9499.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/9/9499/ + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; Roger Proctor; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Dream + +Author: Emile Zola + +Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9499] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 6, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny, John Bickers, and Roger Proctor + + + + + THE DREAM + (LE REVE) + + BY + + EMILE ZOLA + + + Translated by Eliza E. Chase + + + + CHAPTER I + +During the severe winter of 1860 the river Oise was frozen over and +the plains of Lower Picardy were covered with deep snow. On Christmas +Day, especially, a heavy squall from the north-east had almost buried +the little city of Beaumont. The snow, which began to fall early in +the morning, increased towards evening and accumulated during the +night; in the upper town, in the Rue des Orfevres, at the end of +which, as if enclosed therein, is the northern front of the cathedral +transept, this was blown with great force by the wind against the +portal of Saint Agnes, the old Romanesque portal, where traces of +Early Gothic could be seen, contrasting its florid ornamentation with +the bare simplicity of the transept gable. + +The inhabitants still slept, wearied by the festive rejoicings of the +previous day. The town-clock struck six. In the darkness, which was +slightly lightened by the slow, persistent fall of flakes, a vague +living form alone was visible: that of a little girl, nine years of +age, who, having taken refuge under the archway of the portal, had +passed the night there, shivering, and sheltering herself as well as +possible. She wore a thin woollen dress, ragged from long use, her +head was covered with a torn silk handkerchief, and on her bare feet +were heavy shoes much too large for her. Without doubt she had only +gone there after having well wandered through the town, for she had +fallen down from sheer exhaustion. For her it was the end of the +world; there was no longer anything to interest her. It was the last +surrender; the hunger that gnaws, the cold which kills; and in her +weakness, stifled by the heavy weight at her heart, she ceased to +struggle, and nothing was left to her but the instinctive movement of +preservation, the desire of changing place, of sinking still deeper +into these old stones, whenever a sudden gust made the snow whirl +about her. + +Hour after hour passed. For a long time, between the divisions of this +double door, she leaned her back against the abutting pier, on whose +column was a statue of Saint Agnes, the martyr of but thirteen years +of age, a little girl like herself, who carried a branch of palm, and +at whose feet was a lamb. And in the tympanum, above the lintel, the +whole legend of the Virgin Child betrothed to Jesus could be seen in +high relief, set forth with a charming simplicity of faith. Her hair, +which grew long and covered her like a garment when the Governor, +whose son she had refused to marry, gave her up to the soldiers; the +flames of the funeral pile, destined to destroy her, turning aside and +burning her executioners as soon as they lighted the wood; the +miracles performed by her relics; Constance, daughter of the Emperor, +cured of leprosy; and the quaint story of one of her painted images, +which, when the priest Paulinus offered it a very valuable emerald +ring, held out its finger, then withdrew it, keeping the ring, which +can be seen at this present day. At the top of the tympanum, in a halo +of glory, Agnes is at last received into heaven, where her betrothed, +Jesus, marries her, so young and so little, giving her the kiss of +eternal happiness. + +But when the wind rushed through the street, the snow was blown in the +child's face, and the threshold was almost barred by the white masses; +then she moved away to the side, against the virgins placed above the +base of the arch. These are the companions of Agnes, the saints who +served as her escort: three at her right--Dorothea, who was fed in +prison by miraculous bread; Barbe, who lived in a tower; and +Genevieve, whose heroism saved Paris: and three at her left--Agatha, +whose breast was torn; Christina, who was put to torture by her +father; and Cecilia, beloved by the angels. Above these were statues +and statues; three close ranks mounting with the curves of the arches, +decorating them with chaste triumphant figures, who, after the +suffering and martyrdom of their earthly life, were welcomed by a host +of winged cherubim, transported with ecstasy into the Celestial +Kingdom. + +There had been no shelter for the little waif for a long time, when at +last the clock struck eight and daylight came. The snow, had she not +trampled it down, would have come up to her shoulders. The old door +behind her was covered with it, as if hung with ermine, and it looked +as white as an altar, beneath the grey front of the church, so bare +and smooth that not even a single flake had clung to it. The great +saints, those of the sloping surface especially, were clothed in it, +and were glistening in purity from their feet to their white beards. +Still higher, in the scenes of the tympanum, the outlines of the +little saints of the arches were designed most clearly on a dark +background, and this magic sect continued until the final rapture at +the marriage of Agnes, which the archangels appeared to be celebrating +under a shower of white roses. Standing upon her pillar, with her +white branch of palm and her white lamp, the Virgin Child had such +purity in the lines of her body of immaculate snow, that the +motionless stiffness of cold seemed to congeal around her the mystic +transports of victorious youth. And at her feet the other child, so +miserable, white with snow--she also grew so stiff and pale that it +seemed as if she were turning to stone, and could scarcely be +distinguished from the great images above her. + +At last, in one of the long line of houses in which all seemed to be +sleeping, the noise from the drawing up of a blind made her raise her +eyes. It was at her right hand, in the second story of a house at the +side of the Cathedral. A very handsome woman, a brunette about forty +years of age, with a placid expression of serenity, was just looking +out from there, and in spite of the terrible frost she kept her +uncovered arm in the air for a moment, having seen the child move. Her +calm face grew sad with pity and astonishment. Then, shivering, she +hastily closed the window. She carried with her the rapid vision of a +fair little creature with violet-coloured eyes under a head-covering +of an old silk handkerchief. The face was oval, the neck long and +slender as a lily, and the shoulders drooping; but she was blue from +cold, her little hands and feet were half dead, and the only thing +about her that still showed life was the slight vapour of her breath. + +The child remained with her eyes upturned, looking at the house +mechanically. It was a narrow one, two stories in height, very old, +and evidently built towards the end of the fifteenth century. It was +almost sealed to the side of the Cathedral, between two buttresses, +like a wart which had pushed itself between the two toes of a +Colossus. And thus supported on each side, it was admirably preserved, +with its stone basement, its second story in wooden panels, ornamented +with bricks, its roof, of which the framework advanced at least three +feet beyond the gable, its turret for the projecting stairway at the +left corner, where could still be seen in the little window the leaden +setting of long ago. At times repairs had been made on account of its +age. The tile-roofing dated from the reign of Louis XIV, for one +easily recognised the work of that epoch; a dormer window pierced in +the side of the turret, little wooden frames replacing everywhere +those of the primitive panes; the three united openings of the second +story had been reduced to two, that of the middle being closed up with +bricks, thus giving to the front the symmetry of the other buildings +on the street of a more recent date. + +In the basement the changes were equally visible, an oaken door with +mouldings having taken the place of the old one with iron trimmings +that was under the stairway; and the great central arcade, of which +the lower part, the sides, and the point had been plastered over, so +as to leave only one rectangular opening, was now a species of large +window, instead of the triple-pointed one which formerly came out on +to the street. + +Without thinking, the child still looked at this venerable dwelling of +a master-builder, so well preserved, and as she read upon a little +yellow plate nailed at the left of the door these words, "Hubert, +chasuble maker," printed in black letters, she was again attracted by +the sound of the opening of a shutter. This time it was the blind of +the square window of the ground floor. A man in his turn looked out; +his face was full, his nose aquiline, his forehead projecting, and his +thick short hair already white, although he was scarcely yet five-and- +forty. He, too, forgot the air for a moment as he examined her with a +sad wrinkle on his great tender mouth. Then she saw him, as he +remained standing behind the little greenish-looking panes. He turned, +beckoned to someone, and his wife reappeared. How handsome she was! +They both stood side by side, looking at her earnestly and sadly. + +For four hundred years, the line of Huberts, embroiderers from father +to son, had lived in this house. A noted maker of chasubles had built +it under Louis XI, another had repaired it under Louis XIV, and the +Hubert who now occupied it still embroidered church vestments, as his +ancestors had always done. At twenty years of age he had fallen in +love with a young girl of sixteen, Hubertine, and so deep was their +affection for each other, that when her mother, widow of a magistrate, +refused to give her consent to their union, they ran away together and +were married. She was remarkably beautiful, and that was their whole +romance, their joy, and their misfortune. + +When, a year later, she went to the deathbed of her mother, the latter +disinherited her and gave her her curse. So affected was she by the +terrible scene, that her infant, born soon after, died, and since then +it seemed as if, even in her coffin in the cemetery, the willful woman +had never pardoned her daughter, for it was, alas! a childless +household. After twenty-four years they still mourned the little one +they had lost. + +Disturbed by their looks, the stranger tried to hide herself behind +the pillar of Saint Agnes. She was also annoyed by the movement which +now commenced in the street, as the shops were being opened and people +began to go out. The Rue des Orfevres, which terminates at the side +front of the church, would be almost impassable, blocked in as it is +on one side by the house of the Huberts, if the Rue du Soleil, a +narrow lane, did not relieve it on the other side by running the whole +length of the Cathedral to the great front on the Place du Cloitre. At +this hour there were few passers, excepting one or two persons who +were on their way to early service, and they looked with surprise at +the poor little girl, whom they did not recognise as ever having seen +at Beaumont. The slow, persistent fall of snow continued. The cold +seemed to increase with the wan daylight, and in the dull thickness of +the great white shroud which covered the town one heard, as if from a +distance, the sound of voices. But timid, ashamed of her abandonment, +as if it were a fault, the child drew still farther back, when +suddenly she recognised before her Hubertine, who, having no servant, +had gone out to buy bread. + +"What are you doing there, little one? Who are you?" + +She did not answer, but hid her face. Then she was no longer conscious +of suffering; her whole being seemed to have faded away, as if her +heart, turned to ice, had stopped beating. When the good lady turned +away with a pitying look, she sank down upon her knees completely +exhausted, and slipped listlessly into the snow, whose flakes quickly +covered her. + +And the woman, as she returned with her fresh rolls, seeing that she +had fallen, again approached her. + +"Look up, my child! You cannot remain here on this doorstep." + +Then Hubert, who had also come out, and was standing near the +threshold, took the bread from his wife, and said: + +"Take her up and bring her into the house." + +Hubertine did not reply, but, stooping, lifted her in her strong arms. +And the child shrank back no longer, but was carried as if inanimate; +her teeth closely set, her eyes shut, chilled through and through, and +with the lightness of a little bird that had just fallen from its +nest. + +They went in. Hubert shut the door, while Hubertine, bearing her +burden, passed through the front room, which served as a parlour, and +where some embroidered bands were spread out for show before the great +square window. Then she went into the kitchen, the old servants' hall, +preserved almost intact, with its heavy beams, its flagstone floor +mended in a dozen places, and its great fireplace with its stone +mantelpiece. On shelves were the utensils, the pots, kettles, and +saucepans, that dated back one or two centuries; and the dishes were +of old stone, or earthenware, and of pewter. But on the middle of the +hearth was a modern cooking-stove, a large cast-iron one, whose copper +trimmings were wondrously bright. It was red from heat, and the water +was bubbling away in its boiler. A large porringer, filled with +coffee-and-milk, was on one corner of it. + +"Oh! how much more comfortable it is here than outside," said Hubert, +as he put the bread down on a heavy table of the style of Louis XIII, +which was in the centre of the room. "Now, seat this poor little +creature near the stove that she may be thawed out!" + +Hubertine had already placed the child close to the fire, and they +both looked at her as she slowly regained consciousness. As the snow +that covered her clothes melted it fell in heavy drops. Through the +holes of her great shoes they could see her little bruised feet, +whilst the thin woollen dress designed the rigidity of her limbs and +her poor body, worn by misery and pain. She had a long attack of +nervous trembling, and then opened her frightened eyes with the start +of an animal which suddenly awakes from sleep to find itself caught in +a snare. Her face seemed to sink away under the silken rag which was +tied under her chin. Her right arm appeared to be helpless, for she +pressed it so closely to her breast. + +"Do not be alarmed, for we will not hurt you. Where did you come from? +Who are you?" + +But the more she was spoken to the more frightened she became, turning +her head as if someone were behind her who would beat her. She +examined the kitchen furtively, the flaggings, the beams, and the +shining utensils; then her glance passed through the irregular windows +which were left in the ancient opening, and she saw the garden clear +to the trees by the Bishop's house, whose white shadows towered above +the wall at the end, while at the left, as if astonished at finding +itself there, stretched along the whole length of the alley the +Cathedral, with its Romanesque windows in the chapels of its apses. +And again, from the heat of the stove which began to penetrate her, +she had a long attack of shivering, after which she turned her eyes to +the floor and remained quiet. + +"Do you belong to Beaumont? Who is your father?" + +She was so entirely silent that Hubert thought her throat must be too +dry to allow her to speak. + +Instead of questioning her he said: "We would do much better to give +her a cup of coffee as hot as she can drink it." + +That was so reasonable that Hubertine immediately handed her the cup +she herself held. Whilst she cut two large slices of bread and +buttered them, the child, still mistrustful, continued to shrink back; +but her hunger was too great, and soon she ate and drank ravenously. +That there need not be a restraint upon her, the husband and wife were +silent, and were touched to tears on seeing her little hand tremble to +such a degree that at times it was difficult for her to reach her +mouth. She made use only of her left hand, for her right arm seemed to +be fastened to her chest. When she had finished, she almost broke the +cup, which she caught again by an awkward movement of her elbow. + +"Have you hurt your arm badly?" Hubertine asked. "Do not be afraid, my +dear, but show it to me." + +But as she was about to touch it the child rose up hastily, trying to +prevent her, and as in the struggle she moved her arm, a little +pasteboard-covered book, which she had hidden under her dress, slipped +through a large tear in her waist. She tried to take it, and when she +saw her unknown hosts open and begin to read it, she clenched her fist +in anger. + +It was an official certificate, given by the Administration des +Enfants Assistes in the Department of the Seine. On the first page, +under a medallion containing a likeness of Saint Vincent de Paul, were +the printed prescribed forms. For the family name, a simple black line +filled the allotted space. Then for the Christian names were those of +Angelique Marie; for the dates, born January 22, 1851, admitted the +23rd of the same month under the registered number of 1,634. So there +was neither father nor mother; there were no papers; not even a +statement of where she was born; nothing but this little book of +official coldness, with its cover of pale red pasteboard. No relative +in the world! and even her abandonment numbered and classed! + +"Oh! then she is a foundling!" exclaimed Hubertine. + +In a paroxysm of rage the child replied: "I am much better than all +the others--yes--yes! I am better, better, better. I have never taken +anything that did not belong to me, and yet they stole all I had. Give +me back, now, that which you also have stolen from me!" + +Such powerless passion, such pride to be above the others in goodness, +so shook the body of the little girl, that the Huberts were startled. +They no longer recognised the blonde creature, with violet eyes and +graceful figure. Now her eyes were black, her face dark, and her neck +seemed swollen by a rush of blood to it. Since she had become warm, +she raised her head and hissed like a serpent that had been picked up +on the snow. + +"Are you then really so naughty?" asked Hubert gently. "If we wish to +know all about you, it is because we wish to help you." + +And looking over the shoulders of his wife he read as the latter +turned the leaves of the little book. On the second page was the name +of the nurse. "The child, Angelique Marie, had been given, on January +25, 1851, to the nurse, Francoise, sister of Mr. Hamelin, a farmer by +profession, living in the parish of Soulanges, an arrondissement of +Nevers. The aforesaid nurse had received on her departure the pay for +the first month of her care, in addition to her clothing." Then there +was a certificate of her baptism, signed by the chaplain of the Asylum +for Abandoned Children; also that of the physician on the arrival and +on the departure of the infant. The monthly accounts, paid in +quarterly installments, filled farther on the columns of four pages, +and each time there was the illegible signature of the receiver or +collector. + +"What! Nevers!" asked Hubertine. "You were brought up near Nevers?" + +Angelique, red with anger that she could not prevent them from +reading, had fallen into a sullen silence. But at last she opened her +mouth to speak of her nurse. + +"Ah! you may be sure that Maman Nini would have beaten you. She always +took my part against others, she did, although sometimes she struck me +herself. Ah! it is true I was not so unhappy over there, with the +cattle and all!" + +Her voice choked her and she continued, in broken, incoherent +sentences, to speak of the meadow where she drove the great red cow, +of the broad road where she played, of the cakes they cooked, and of a +pet house-dog that had once bitten her. + +Hubert interrupted her as he read aloud: "In case of illness, or of +bad treatment, the superintendent is authorised to change the nurses +of the children." Below it was written that the child Angelique Marie +had been given on June 20 to the care of Theresa, wife of Louis +Franchomme, both of them makers of artificial flowers in Paris. + +"Ah! I understand," said Hubertine. "You were ill, and so they took +you back to Paris." + +But no, that was not the case, and the Huberts did not know the whole +history until they had drawn it, little by little from Angelique. +Louis Franchomme, who was a cousin of Maman Nini, went to pass a month +in his native village when recovering from a fever. It was then that +his wife, Theresa, became very fond of the child, and obtained +permission to take her to Paris, where she could be taught the trade +of making flowers. Three months later her husband died, and she +herself, being delicate in health, was obliged to leave the city and +to go to her brother's, the tanner Rabier, who was settled at +Beaumont. She, alas! died in the early days of December, and confided +to her sister-in-law the little girl, who since that time had been +injured, beaten, and, in short, suffered martyrdom. + +"The Rabiers?" said Hubert. "The Rabiers? Yes, yes! They are tanners +on the banks of the Ligneul, in the lower town. The husband is lame, +and the wife is a noted scold." + +"They treated me as if I came from the gutter," continued Angelique, +revolted and enraged in her mortified pride. "They said the river was +the best place for me. After she had beaten me nearly to death, the +woman would put something on the floor for me to eat, as if I were a +cat, and many a time I went to bed suffering from hunger. Oh! I could +have killed myself, at last!" She made a gesture of furious despair. + +"Yesterday, Christmas morning, they had been drinking, and, to amuse +themselves, they threatened to put out my eyes. Then, after a while, +they began to fight with each other, and dealt such heavy blows that I +thought they were dead, as they both fell on the floor of their room. +For a long time I had determined to run away. But I was anxious to +have my book. Maman Nini had often said, in showing it to me: 'Look, +this is all that you own, and if you do not keep this you will not +even have a name.' And I know that since the death of Maman Theresa +they had hid it in one of the bureau drawers. So stepping over them as +quietly as possible, while they were lying on the floor, I got the +book, hid it under my dress-waist, pressing it against me with my arm. +It seemed so large that I fancied everyone must see it, and that it +would be taken from me. Oh! I ran, and ran, and ran, and when night +came it was so dark! Oh! how cold I was under the poor shelter of that +great door! Oh dear! I was so cold, it seemed as if I were dead. But +never mind now, for I did not once let go of my book, and here it is." +And with a sudden movement, as the Huberts closed it to give it back +to her, she snatched it from them. Then, sitting down, she put her +head on the table, sobbing deeply as she laid her cheek on the light +red cover. Her pride seemed conquered by an intense humility. Her +whole being appeared to be softened by the sight of these few leaves +with their rumpled corners--her solitary possession, her one treasure, +and the only tie which connected her with the life of this world. She +could not relieve her heart of her great despair; her tears flowed +continually, and under this complete surrender of herself she regained +her delicate looks and became again a pretty child. Her slightly oval +face was pure in its outlines, her violet eyes were made a little +paler from emotion, and the curve of her neck and shoulders made her +resemble a little virgin on a church window. At length she seized the +hand of Hubertine, pressed it to her lips most caressingly, and kissed +it passionately. + +The Huberts were deeply touched, and could scarcely speak. They +stammered: "Dear, dear child!" + +She was not, then, in reality bad! Perhaps with affectionate care she +could be corrected of this violence of temper which had so alarmed +them. + +In a tone of entreaty the poor child exclaimed: "Do not send me back +to those dreadful people! Oh, do not send me back again!" + +The husband and wife looked at each other for a few moments. In fact, +since the autumn they had planned taking as an apprentice some young +girl who would live with them, and thus bring a little brightness into +their house, which seemed so dull without children. And their decision +was soon made. + +"Would you like it, my dear?" Hubert asked. + +Hubertine replied quietly, in her calm voice: "I would indeed." + +Immediately they occupied themselves with the necessary formalities. +The husband went to the Justice of Peace of the northern district of +Beaumont, who was cousin to his wife, the only relative with whom she +had kept up an acquaintance, and told him all the facts of the case. +He took charge of it, wrote to the Hospice of Abandoned Children-- +where, thanks to the registered number, Angelique was easily +recognised--and obtained permission for her to remain as apprentice +with the Huberts, who were well known for their honourable position. + +The Sub-Inspector of the Hospice, on coming to verify the little book, +signed the new contract as witness for Hubert, by which the latter +promised to treat the child kindly, to keep her tidy, to send her to +school and to church, and to give her a good bed to herself. On the +other side, the Administration agreed to pay him all indemnities, and +to give the child certain stipulated articles of clothing, as was +their custom. + +In ten days all was arranged. Angelique slept upstairs in a room under +the roof, by the side of the garret, and the windows of which +overlooked the garden. She had already taken her first lessons in +embroidery. The first Sunday morning after she was in her new home, +before going to mass, Hubertine opened before her the old chest in the +working-room, where she kept the fine gold thread. She held up the +little book, then, placing it in that back part of one of the drawers, +said: "Look! I have put it here. I will not hide it, but leave it +where you can take it if you ever wish to do so. It is best that you +should see it, and remember where it is." + +On entering the church that day, Angelique found herself again under +the doorway of Saint Agnes. During the week there had been a partial +thaw, then the cold weather had returned to so intense a degree that +the snow which had half melted on the statues had congealed itself in +large bunches or in icicles. Now, the figures seemed dressed in +transparent robes of ice, with lace trimmings like spun glass. +Dorothea was holding a torch, the liquid droppings of which fell upon +her hands. Cecilia wore a silver crown, in which glistened the most +brilliant of pearls. Agatha's nude chest was protected by a crystal +armour. And the scenes in the tympanum, the little virgins in the +arches, looked as if they had been there for centuries, behind the +glass and jewels of the shrine of a saint. Agnes herself let trail +behind her her court mantle, threaded with light and embroidered with +stars. Her lamb had a fleece of diamonds, and her palm-branch had +become the colour of heaven. The whole door was resplendent in the +purity of intense cold. + +Angelique recollected the night she had passed there under the +protection of these saints. She raised her head and smiled upon them. + + + + CHAPTER II + +Beaumont is composed of two villages, completely separated and quite +distinct one from the other--Beaumont-l'Eglise, on the hill with its +old Cathedral of the twelfth century, its Bishop's Palace which dates +only from the seventeenth century, its inhabitants, scarcely one +thousand in number, who are crowded together in an almost stifling way +in its narrow streets; and Beaumont-la-Ville, at the foot of the hill, +on the banks of the Ligneul, an ancient suburb, which the success of +its manufactories of lace and fine cambric has enriched and enlarged +to such an extent that it has a population of nearly ten thousand +persons, several public squares, and an elegant sub-prefecture built +in the modern style. These two divisions, the northern district and +the southern district, have thus no longer anything in common except +in an administrative way. Although scarcely thirty leagues from Paris, +where one can go by rail in two hours, Beaumont-l'Eglise seems to be +still immured in its old ramparts, of which, however, only three gates +remain. A stationary, peculiar class of people lead there a life +similar to that which their ancestors had led from father to son +during the past five hundred years. + +The Cathedral explains everything, has given birth to and preserved +everything. It is the mother, the queen, as it rises in all its +majesty in the centre of, and above, the little collection of low +houses, which, like shivering birds, are sheltered under her wings of +stone. One lives there simply for it, and only by it. There is no +movement of business activity, and the little tradesmen only sell the +necessities of life, such as are absolutely required to feed, to +clothe, and to maintain the church and its clergy; and if occasionally +one meets some private individuals, they are merely the last +representatives of a scattered crowd of worshippers. The church +dominates all; each street is one of its veins; the town has no other +breath than its own. On that account, this spirit of another age, this +religious torpor from the past, makes the cloistered city which +surrounds it redolent with a savoury perfume of peace and of faith. + +And in all this mystic place, the house of the Huberts, where +Angelique was to live in the future, was the one nearest to the +Cathedral, and which clung to it as if in reality it were a part +thereof. The permission to build there, between two of the great +buttresses, must have been given by some vicar long ago, who was +desirous of attaching to himself the ancestors of this line of +embroiderers, as master chasuble-makers and furnishers for the +Cathedral clergy. On the southern side, the narrow garden was barred +by the colossal building; first, the circumference of the side +chapels, whose windows overlooked the flower-beds, and then the +slender, long nave, that the flying buttresses supported, and +afterwards the high roof covered with the sheet lead. + +The sun never penetrated to the lower part of this garden, where ivy +and box alone grew luxuriantly; yet the eternal shadow there was very +soft and pleasant as it fell from the gigantic brow of the apse--a +religious shadow, sepulchral and pure, which had a good odour about +it. In the greenish half-light of its calm freshness, the two towers +let fall only the sound of their chimes. But the entire house kept the +quivering therefrom, sealed as it was to these old stones, melted into +them and supported by them. It trembled at the least of the +ceremonies; at the High Mass, the rumbling of the organ, the voices of +the choristers, even the oppressed sighs of the worshippers, murmured +through each one of its rooms, lulled it as if with a holy breath from +the Invisible, and at times through the half-cool walls seemed to come +the vapours from the burning incense. + +For five years Angelique lived and grew there, as if in a cloister, +far away from the world. She only went out to attend the seven-o'clock +Mass on Sunday mornings, as Hubertine had obtained permission for her +to study at home, fearing that, if sent to school, she might not +always have the best of associates. This old dwelling, so shut in, +with its garden of a dead quiet, was her world. She occupied as her +chamber a little whitewashed room under the roof; she went down in the +morning to her breakfast in the kitchen, she went up again to the +working-room in the second story to her embroidery. And these places, +with the turning stone stairway of the turret, were the only corners +in which she passed her time; for she never went into the Huberts' +apartments, and only crossed the parlour on the first floor, and they +were the two rooms which had been rejuvenated and modernised. In the +parlour, the beams were plastered over, and the ceiling had been +decorated with a palm-leaf cornice, accompanied by a rose centre; the +wall-paper dated from the First Empire, as well as the white marble +chimney-piece and the mahogany furniture, which consisted of a sofa +and four armchairs covered with Utrecht velvet, a centre table, and a +cabinet. + +On the rare occasions when she went there, to add to the articles +exposed for sale some new bands of embroidery, if she cast her eyes +without, she saw through the window the same unchanging vista, the +narrow street ending at the portal of Saint Agnes; a parishioner +pushing open the little lower door, which shut itself without any +noise, and the shops of the plate-worker and wax-candle-maker +opposite, which appeared to be always empty, but where was a display +of holy sacramental vessels, and long lines of great church tapers. +And the cloistral calm of all Beaumont-l'Eglise--of the Rue Magloire, +back of the Bishop's Palace, of the Grande Rue, where the Rue de +Orfevres began, and of the Place du Cloitre, where rose up the two +towers, was felt in the drowsy air, and seemed to fall gently with the +pale daylight on the deserted pavement. + +Hubertine had taken upon herself the charge of the education of +Angelique. Moreover, she was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and +maintained that a woman knew enough if she could read well, write +correctly, and had studied thoroughly the first four rules of +arithmetic. But even for this limited instruction she had constantly +to contend with an unwillingness on the part of her pupil, who, +instead of giving her attention to her books, preferred looking out of +the windows, although the recreation was very limited, as she could +see nothing but the garden from them. In reality, Angelique cared only +for reading; notwithstanding in her dictations, chosen from some +classic writer, she never succeeded in spelling a page correctly, yet +her handwriting was exceedingly pretty, graceful, and bold, one of +those irregular styles which were quite the fashion long ago. As for +other studies, of geography and history and cyphering, she was almost +completely ignorant of them. What good would knowledge ever do her? It +was really useless, she thought. Later on, when it was time for her to +be Confirmed, she learned her Catechism word for word, and with so +fervent an ardour that she astonished everyone by the exactitude of +her memory. + +Notwithstanding their gentleness, during the first year the Huberts +were often discouraged. Angelique, who promised to be skilful in +embroidering, disconcerted them by sudden changes to inexplicable +idleness after days of praiseworthy application. She was capricious, +seemed to lose her strength, became greedy, would steal sugar to eat +when alone, and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked wearied +under their reddened lids. If reproved, she would reply with a flood +of injurious words. Some days, when they wished to try to subdue her, +her foolish pride at being interfered with would throw her into such +serious attacks that she would strike her feet and her hands together, +and seemed ready to tear her clothing, or to bite anyone who +approached her. At such moments they drew away from her, for she was +like a little monster ruled by the evil sprit within her. + +Who could she be? Where did she come from? Almost always these +abandoned children are the offspring of vice. Twice they had resolved +to give her up and send her back to the Asylum, so discouraged were +they and so deeply did they regret having taken her. But each time +these frightful scenes, which almost made the house tremble, ended in +the same deluge of tears, and the same excited expressions and acts of +penitence, when the child would throw herself on the floor, begging +them so earnestly to punish her that they were obliged to forgive her. + +Little by little, Hubertine gained great authority over her. She was +peculiarly adapted for such a task, with her kind heart, her gentle +firmness, her common-sense and her uniform temper. She taught her the +duty of obedience and the sin of pride and of passion. To obey was to +live. We must obey God, our parents, and our superiors. There was a +whole hierarchy of respect, outside of which existence was +unrestrained and disorderly. So, after each fit of passion, that she +might learn humility, some menial labour was imposed upon her as a +penance, such as washing the cooking-utensils, or wiping up the +kitchen floor; and, until it was finished, she would remain stooping +over her work, enraged at first, but conquered at last. + +With the little girl excess seemed to be a marked characteristic in +everything, even in her caresses. Many times Hubertine had seen her +kissing her hands with vehemence. She would often be in a fever of +ecstasy before the little pictures of saints and of the Child Jesus, +which she had collected; and one evening she was found in a half- +fainting state, with her head upon the table, and her lips pressed to +those of the images. When Hubertine confiscated them there was a +terrible scene of tears and cries, as if she herself were being +tortured. After that she was held very strictly, was made to obey, and +her freaks were at once checked by keeping her busy at her work; as +soon as her cheeks grew very red, her eyes dark, and she had nervous +tremblings, everything was immediately made quiet about her. + +Moreover, Hubertine had found an unexpected aid in the book given by +the Society for the Protection of Abandoned Children. Every three +months, when the collector signed it, Angelique was very low-spirited +for the rest of the day. If by chance she saw it when she went to the +drawer for a ball of gold thread, her heart seemed pierced with agony. +And one day, when in a fit of uncontrollable fury, which nothing had +been able to conquer, she turned over the contents of the drawer, she +suddenly appeared as if thunderstruck before the red-covered book. Her +sobs stifled her. She threw herself at the feet of the Huberts in +great humility, stammering that they had made a mistake in giving her +shelter, and that she was not worthy of all their kindness. From that +time her anger was frequently restrained by the sight or the mention +of the book. + +In this way Angelique lived until she was twelve years of age and +ready to be Confirmed. The calm life of the household, the little old- +fashioned building sleeping under the shadow of the Cathedral, +perfumed with incense, and penetrated with religious music, favoured +the slow amelioration of this untutored nature, this wild flower, +taken from no one knew where, and transplanted in the mystic soil of +the narrow garden. Added to this was the regularity of her daily work +and the utter ignorance of what was going on in the world, without +even an echo from a sleepy quarter penetrating therein. + +But, above all, the gentlest influence came from the great love of the +Huberts for each other, which seemed to be enlarged by some unknown, +incurable remorse. He passed the days in endeavouring to make his wife +forget the injury he had done her in marrying her in spite of the +opposition of her mother. He had realised at the death of their child +that she half accused him of this punishment, and he wished to be +forgiven. She had done so years ago, and now she idolised him. +Sometimes he was not sure of it, and this doubt saddened his life. He +wished they might have had another infant, and so feel assured that +the obstinate mother had been softened after death, and had withdrawn +her malediction. That, in fact, was their united desire--a child of +pardon; and he worshipped his wife with a tender love, ardent and pure +as that of a betrothed. If before the apprentice he did not even kiss +her hand, he never entered their chamber, even after twenty years of +marriage, without an emotion of gratitude for all the happiness that +had been given him. This was their true home, this room with its +tinted paintings, its blue wall-paper, its pretty hangings, and its +walnut furniture. Never was an angry word uttered therein, and, as if +from a sanctuary, a sentiment of tenderness went out from its +occupants, and filled the house. It was thus for Angelique an +atmosphere of affection and love, in which she grew and thrived. + +An unexpected event finished the work of forming her character. As she +was rummaging one morning in a corner of the working-room, she found +on a shelf, among implements of embroidery which were no longer used, +a very old copy of the "Golden Legend," by Jacques de Voragine. This +French translation, dating from 1549, must have been bought in the +long ago by some master-workman in church vestments, on account of the +pictures, full of useful information upon the Saints. It was a great +while since Angelique had given any attention to the little old carved +images, showing such childlike faith, which had once delighted her. +But now, as soon as she was allowed to go out and play in the garden, +she took the book with her. It had been rebound in yellow calf, and +was in a good condition. She slowly turned over some of the leaves, +then looked at the title-page, in red and black, with the address of +the bookseller: "a Paris, en la rue Neufre Nostre-Dame, a l'enseigne +Saint Jehan Baptiste;" and decorated with medallions of the four +Evangelists, framed at the bottom by the Adoration of the Three Magi, +and at the top by the Triumph of Jesus Christ, and His resurrection. +And then picture after picture followed; there were ornamented +letters, large and small, engravings in the text and at the heading of +the chapters; "The Annunciation," an immense angel inundating with +rays of light a slight, delicate-looking Mary; "The Massacre of the +Innocents," where a cruel Herod was seen surrounded by dead bodies of +dear little children; "The Nativity," where Saint Joseph is holding a +candle, the light of which falls upon the face of the Infant Jesus, +Who sleeps in His mother's arms; Saint John the Almoner, giving to the +poor; Saint Matthias, breaking an idol; Saint Nicholas as a bishop, +having at his right hand a little bucket filled with babies. And then, +a little farther on, came the female saints: Agnes, with her neck +pierced by a sword; Christina, torn by pincers; Genevieve, followed by +her lambs; Juliana, being whipped; Anastasia, burnt; Maria the +Egyptian, repenting in the desert, Mary of Magdalene, carrying the +vase of precious ointment; and others and still others followed. There +was an increasing terror and a piety in each one of them, making it a +history which weighs upon the heart and fills the eyes with tears. + +But, little by little, Angelique was curious to know exactly what +these engravings represented. The two columns of closely-printed text, +the impression of which remained very black upon the papers yellowed +by time, frightened her by the strange, almost barbaric look of the +Gothic letters. Still, she accustomed herself to it, deciphered these +characters, learned the abbreviations and the contractions, and soon +knew how to explain the turning of the phrases and the old-fashioned +words. At last she could read it easily, and was as enchanted as if +she were penetrating a mystery, and she triumphed over each new +difficulty that she conquered. + +Under these laborious shades a whole world of light revealed itself. +She entered, as it were, into a celestial splendour. For now the few +classic books they owned, so cold and dry, existed no longer. The +Legend alone interested her. She bent over it, with her forehead +resting on her hands, studying it so intently, that she no longer +lived in the real life, but, unconscious of time, she seemed to see, +mounting from the depths of the unknown, the broad expansion of a +dream. + +How wonderful it all was! These saints and virgins! They are born +predestined; solemn voices announce their coming, and their mothers +have marvellous dreams about them. All are beautiful, strong, and +victorious. Great lights surround them, and their countenances are +resplendent. Dominic has a star on his forehead. They read the minds +of men and repeat their thoughts aloud. They have the gift of +prophecy, and their predictions are always realised. Their number is +infinite. Among them are bishops and monks, virgins and fallen women, +beggars and nobles of a royal race, unclothed hermits who live on +roots, and old men who inhabit caverns with goats. Their history is +always the same. They grow up for Christ, believe fervently in Him, +refuse to sacrifice to false gods, are tortured, and die filled with +glory. Emperors were at last weary of persecuting them. Andrew, after +being attached to the cross, preached during two days to twenty +thousand persons. Conversions were made in masses, forty thousand men +being baptised at one time. When the multitudes were not converted by +the miracles, they fled terrified. The saints were accused of sorcery; +enigmas were proposed to them, which they solved at once; they were +obliged to dispute questions with learned men, who remained speechless +before them. As soon as they entered the temples of sacrifice the +idols were overthrown with a breath, and were broken to pieces. A +virgin tied her sash around the neck of a statue of Venus, which at +once fell in powder. The earth trembled. The Temple of Diana was +struck by lightning and destroyed; and the people revolting, civil +wars ensued. Then often the executioners asked to be baptised; kings +knelt at the feet of saints in rags who had devoted themselves to +poverty. Sabina flees from the paternal roof. Paula abandons her five +children. Mortifications of the flesh and fasts purify, not oil or +water. Germanus covers his food with ashes. Bernard cares not to eat, +but delights only in the taste of fresh water. Agatha keeps for three +years a pebble in her mouth. Augustinus is in despair for the sin he +has committed in turning to look after a dog who was running. +Prosperity and health are despised, and joy begins with privations +which kill the body. And it is thus that, subduing all things, they +live at last in gardens where the flowers are stars, and where the +leaves of the trees sing. They exterminate dragons, they raise and +appease tempests, they seem in their ecstatic visions to be borne +above the earth. Their wants are provided for while living, and after +their death friends are advised by dreams to go and bury them. +Extraordinary things happen to them, and adventures far more +marvellous than those in a work of fiction. And when their tombs are +opened after hundreds of years, sweet odours escape therefrom. + +Then, opposite the saints, behold the evil spirits! + +"They often fly about us like insects, and fill the air without +number. The air is also full of demons, as the rays of the sun are +full of atoms. It is even like powder." And the eternal contest +begins. The saints are always victorious, and yet they are constantly +obliged to renew the battle. The more the demons are driven away, the +more they return. There were counted six thousand six hundred and +sixty-six in the body of a woman whom Fortunatus delivered. They +moved, they talked and cried, by the voice of the person possessed, +whose body they shook as if by a tempest. At each corner of the +highways an afflicted one is seen, and the first saint who passes +contends with the evil spirits. They enter by the eyes, the ears, and +by the mouth, and, after days of fearful struggling, they go out with +loud groanings. Basilus, to save a young man, contends personally with +the Evil One. Macarius was attacked when in a cemetery, and passed a +whole night in defending himself. The angels, even at deathbeds, in +order to secure the soul of the dying were obliged to beat the demons. +At other times the contests are only of the intellect and the mind, +but are equally remarkable. Satan, who prowls about, assumes many +forms, sometimes disguising himself as a woman, and again, even as a +saint. But, once overthrown, he appears in all his ugliness: "a black +cat, larger than a dog, his huge eyes emitting flame, his tongue long, +large, and bloody, his tail twisted and raised in the air, and his +whole body disgusting to the last degree." He is the one thing that is +hated, and the only preoccupation. People fear him, yet ridicule him. +One is not even honest with him. In reality, notwithstanding the +ferocious appearance of his furnaces, he is the eternal dupe. All the +treaties he makes are forced from him by violence or cunning. Feeble +women throw him down: Margaret crushes his head with her feet, and +Juliana beats him with her chain. From all this a serenity disengages +itself, a disdain of evil, since it is powerless, and a certainty of +good, since virtue triumphs. It is only necessary to cross one's self, +and the Devil can do no harm, but yells and disappears, while the +infernal regions tremble. + +Then, in this combat of legions of saints against Satan are developed +the fearful sufferings from persecutions. The executioners expose to +the flies the martyrs whose bodies are covered with honey; they make +them walk with bare feet over broken glass or red-hot coals, put them +in ditches with reptiles; chastise them with whips, whose thongs are +weighted with leaden balls; nail them when alive in coffins, which +they throw into the sea; hang them by their hair, and then set fire to +them; moisten their wounds with quicklime, boiling pitch, or molten +lead; make them sit on red-hot iron stools; burn their sides with +torches; break their bones on wheels, and torture them in every +conceivable way. And, with all this, physical pain counts for nothing; +indeed, it seems to be desired. Moreover, a continual miracle protects +them. John drinks poison but is unharmed. Sebastian smiles although +pierced with arrows; sometimes they remain in the air at the right or +left of the martyr, or, launched by the archer, they return upon +himself and put out his eyes. Molten lead is swallowed as if it were +ice-water. Lions prostrate themselves, and lick their hands as gently +as lambs. The gridiron of Saint Lawrence is of an agreeable freshness +to him. He cries, "Unhappy man, you have roasted one side, turn the +other and then eat, for it is sufficiently cooked." Cecilia, placed in +a boiling bath, is refreshed by it. Christina exhorts those who would +torture her. Her father had her whipped by twelve men, who at last +drop from fatigue; she is then attached to a wheel, under which a fire +is kindled, and the flame, turning to one side, devours fifteen +hundred persons. She is then thrown into the sea, but the angels +support her; Jesus comes to baptise her in person, then gives her to +the charge of Saint Michael, that he may conduct her back to the +earth; after that she is placed for five days in a heated oven, where +she suffers not, but sings constantly. Vincent, who was exposed to +still greater tortures, feels them not. His limbs are broken, he is +covered with red-hot irons, he is pricked with needles, he is placed +on a brazier of live coals, and then taken back to prison, where his +feet are nailed to a post. Yet he still lives, and his pains are +changed into a sweetness of flowers, a great light fills his dungeon, +and angels sing with him, giving him rest as if he were on a bed of +roses. The sweet sound of singing, and the fresh odour of flowers +spread without in the room, and when the guards saw the miracle they +were converted to the faith, and when Dacian heard of it, he was +greatly enraged, and said, "Do nothing more to him, for we are +conquered." Such was the excitement among the persecutors, it could +only end either by their conversion or by their death. Their hands are +paralysed; they perish violently; they are choked by fish-bones; they +are struck by lightning, and their chariots are broken. In the +meanwhile, the cells of the martyrs are resplendent. Mary and the +Apostles enter them at will, although the doors are bolted. Constant +aid is given, apparitions descend from the skies, where angels are +waiting, holding crowns of precious stones. Since death seems joyous, +it is not feared, and their friends are glad when they succumb to it. +On Mount Ararat ten thousand are crucified, and at Cologne eleven +thousand virgins are massacred by the Huns. In the circuses they are +devoured by wild beasts. Quirique, who, by the influence of the Holy +Spirit, taught like a man, suffered martyrdom when but three years of +age. Nursing-children reproved the executioners. The hope for +celestial happiness deadened the physical senses and softened pain. +Were they torn to pieces, or burnt, they minded it not. They never +yielded, and they called for the sword, which alone could kill them. +Eulalia, when at the stake, breathes the flame that she may die the +more quickly. Her prayer is granted, and a white dove flies from her +mouth and bears her soul to heaven. + +Angelique marvelled greatly at all these accounts. So many +abominations and such triumphant joy delighted her and carried her out +of herself. + +But other points in the Legend, of quite a different nature, also +interested her; the animals, for instance, of which there were enough +to fill an Ark of Noah. She liked the ravens and the eagles who fed +the hermits. + +Then what lovely stories there were about the lions. The serviceable +one who found a resting-place in a field for Mary the Egyptian; the +flaming lion who protected virgins or maidens in danger; and then the +lion of Saint Jerome, to whose care an ass had been confided, and, +when the animal was stolen, went in search of him and brought him +back. There was also the penitent wolf, who had restored a little pig +he had intended eating. Then there was Bernard, who excommunicates the +flies, and they drop dead. Remi and Blaise feed birds at their table, +bless them, and make them strong. Francis, "filled with a dove-like +simplicity," preaches to them, and exhorts them to love God. A bird +was on a branch of a fig-tree, and Francis, holding out his hand, +beckoned to it, and soon it obeyed, and lighted on his hand. And he +said to it, "Sing my sister, and praise the Lord." And immediately the +bird began to sing, and did not go away until it was told to do so. + +All this was a continual source of recreation to Angelique, and gave +her the idea of calling to the swallows, and hoping they might come to +her. + +The good giant Christopher, who carried the Infant Christ on his +shoulders, delighted her so much as to bring tears to her eyes. + +She was very merry over the misadventures of a certain Governor with +the three chambermaids of Anastasia, whom he hoped to have found in +the kitchen, where he kissed the stove and the kettles, thinking he +was embracing them. "He went out therefrom very black and ugly, and +his clothes quite smutched. And when his servants, who were waiting, +saw him in such a state, they thought he was the Devil. Then they beat +him with birch-rods, and, running away, left him alone." + +But that which convulsed her most with laughter, was the account of +the blows given to the Evil One himself, especially when Juliana, +having been tempted by him in her prison cell, administered such an +extraordinary chastisement with her chain. "Then the Provost commanded +that Juliana should be brought before him; and when she came into his +presence, she was drawing the Devil after her, and he cried out, +saying, 'My good lady Juliana, do not hurt me any more!' She led him +in this way around the public square, and afterwards threw him into a +deep ditch." + +Often Angelique would repeat to the Huberts, as they were all at work +together, legends far more interesting than any fairy-tale. She had +read them over so often that she knew them by heart, and she told in a +charming way the story of the Seven Sleepers, who, to escape +persecution, walled themselves up in a cavern, and whose awakening +greatly astonished the Emperor Theodosius. Then the Legend of Saint +Clement with its endless adventures, so unexpected and touching, where +the whole family, father, mother, and three sons, separated by +terrible misfortunes, are finally re-united in the midst of the most +beautiful miracles. + +Her tears would flow at these recitals. She dreamed of them at night, +she lived, as it were, only in this tragic and triumphant world of +prodigy, in a supernatural country where all virtues are recompensed +by all imaginable joys. + +When Angelique partook of her first Communion, it seemed as if she +were walking, like the saints, a little above the earth. She was a +young Christian of the primitive Church; she gave herself into the +hands of God, having learned from her book that she could not be saved +without grace. + +The Huberts were simple in their profession of faith. They went every +Sunday to Mass, and to Communion on all great fete-days, and this was +done with the tranquil humility of true belief, aided a little by +tradition, as the chasubliers had from father to son always observed +the Church ceremonies, particularly those at Easter. + +Hubert himself had a tendency to imaginative fancies. He would at +times stop his work and let fall his frame to listen to the child as +she read or repeated the legends, and, carried away for the moment by +her enthusiasm, it seemed as if his hair were blown about by the light +breath of some invisible power. He was so in sympathy with Angelique, +and associated her to such a degree with the youthful saints of the +past, that he wept when he saw her in her white dress and veil. This +day at church was like a dream, and they returned home quite +exhausted. Hubertine was obliged to scold them both, for, with her +excellent common-sense, she disliked exaggeration even in good things. + +From that time she had to restrain the zeal of Angelique, especially +in her tendency to what she thought was charity, and to which she +wished to devote herself. Saint Francis had wedded poverty; Julien the +Chaplain had called the poor his superiors; Gervasius and Protais had +washed the feet of the most indigent, and Martin had divided his cloak +with them. So she, following the example of Lucy, wished to sell +everything that she might give. At first she disposed of all her +little private possessions, then she began to pillage the house. But +at last she gave without judgment and foolishly. One evening, two days +after her Confirmation, being reprimanded for having thrown from the +window several articles of underwear to a drunken woman, she had a +terrible attack of anger like those when she was young; then, overcome +by shame, she was really ill and forced to keep her bed for a couple +of days. + + + + CHAPTER III + +In the meanwhile, weeks and months went by. Two years had passed. +Angelique was now fourteen years of age and quite womanly. When she +read the "Golden Legend," she would have a humming in her ears, the +blood circulated quickly through the blue veins near her temples, and +she felt a deep tenderness towards all these virgin saints. + +Maidenhood is the sister of the angels, the union of all good, the +overthrow of evil, the domain of faith. It gives grace, it is +perfection, which has only need to show itself to conquer. The action +of the Holy Spirit rendered Lucy so heavy that a thousand men and five +pair of oxen could not drag her away from her home. An officer who +tried to kiss Anastasia was struck blind. Under torture, the purity of +the virgins is always powerful; from their exquisite white limbs, torn +by instruments, milk flows instead of blood. Ten different times the +story is told of the young convert who, to escape from her family, who +wish her to marry against her will, assumes the garb of a monk, is +accused of some misdeed, suffers punishment without indicating +herself, and at last triumphs by announcing her name. Eugenia is in +this way brought before a judge, whom she recognises as her father and +reveals herself to him. Externally the combat of chastity recommences; +always the thorns reappear. Thus the wisest saints shrink from being +tempted. As the world is filled with snares, hermits flee to the +desert, where they scourge themselves, throw themselves on the snow, +or in beds of prickly herbs. A solitary monk covers his fingers with +his mantle, that he may aid his mother in crossing a creek. A martyr +bound to a stake, being tempted by a young girl, bites off his tongue +with his teeth and spits it at her. All glorify the state of single +blessedness. Alexis, very wealthy and in a high position, marries, but +leaves his wife at the church-door. One weds only to die. Justina, in +love with Cyprianus, converts him, and they walk together to their +punishment. Cecilia, beloved by an angel, reveals the secret to +Valerian on their wedding-day, and he, that he may see the spirit, +consents to be baptised. He found in his room Cecilia talking with the +angel, who held in his hand two wreaths of roses, and, giving one to +Cecilia, and one to Valerian, he said, "Keep these crowns, like your +hearts, pure and unspotted." In many cases it was proved that death +was stronger than love, and couples were united only as a challenge to +existence. It was said that even the Virgin Mary at times prevented +betrothals from ending in a marriage. A nobleman, a relative of the +King of Hungary, renounced his claims to a young girl of marvellous +beauty on this account. "Suddenly our Blessed Lady appeared, and said +to him: 'If I am indeed so beautiful as you have called me, why do you +leave me for another?' And he became a most devout man for the rest of +his life." + +Among all this saintly company, Angelique had her preferences, and +there were those whose experiences touched her to the heart, and +helped her to correct her failings. Thus the learned Catherine, of +high birth, enchanted her by her great scientific knowledge, when, +only eighteen years of age, she was called by the Emperor Maximus to +discuss certain questions with fifty rhetoricians and grammarians. She +astonished and convinced them. "They were amazed and knew not what to +say, but they remained quiet. And the Emperor blamed them for their +weakness in allowing themselves to be so easily conquered by a young +girl." The fifty professors then declared that they were converted. +"And as soon as the tyrant heard that, he had so terrible a fit of +anger, that he commanded they should all be burned to death in the +public square." In her eyes Catherine was the invincible learned +woman, as proud and dazzling in intellect as in beauty, just as she +would have liked to be, that she might convert men, and be fed in +prison by a dove, before having her head cut off. But Saint Elizabeth, +the daughter of the King of Hungary, was for her a constant teacher +and guide. Whenever she was inclined to yield to her violent temper, +she thought of this model of gentleness and simplicity, who was at +five years of age very devout, refusing to join her playmates in their +sports, and sleeping on the ground, that, in abasing herself, she +might all the better render homage to God. Later, she was the +faithful, obedient wife of the Landgrave of Thuringia, always showing +to her husband a smiling face, although she passed her nights in +tears. When she became a widow she was driven from her estates, but +was happy to lead the life of poverty. Her dress was so thin from use, +that she wore a grey mantle, lengthened out by cloth of a different +shade. The sleeves of her jacket had been torn, and were mended with a +material of another colour. The king, her father, wishing her to come +to him, sent for her by a Count. And when the Count saw her clothed in +such a way and spinning, overcome with surprise and grief, he +exclaimed: "Never before did one see the daughter of a Royal House in +so miserable a garb, and never was one known to spin wool until now." +So Christian and sincere was her humility, that she ate black bread +with the poorest peasants, nursed them when ill, dressed their sores +without repugnance, put on coarse garments like theirs, and followed +them in the church processions with bare feet. She was once washing +the porringers and the utensils of the kitchen, when the maids, seeing +her so out of place, urged her to desist, but she replied, "Could I +find another task more menial even than this, I would do it." +Influenced by her example, Angelique, who was formerly angry when +obliged to do any cleaning in the kitchen, now tried to invent some +extremely disagreeable task when she felt nervous and in need of +control. + +But more than Catherine, more than Elizabeth, far nearer and dearer to +her than all the other saints, was Agnes, the child-martyr; and her +heart leaped with joy on refinding in the "Golden Legend" this virgin, +clothed with her own hair, who had protected her under the Cathedral +portal. What ardour of pure love, as she repelled the son of the +Governor when he accosted her on her way from school! "Go--leave me, +minister of death, commencement of sin, and child of treason!" How +exquisitely she described her beloved! "I love the One whose Mother +was a Virgin, and whose father was faithful to her, at whose beauty +the sun and moon marvelled, and at whose touch the dead were made +alive." And when Aspasien commanded that "her throat should be cut by +the sword," she ascended into Paradise to be united to her "betrothed, +whiter and purer than silver-gilt." + +Always, when weary or disturbed, Angelique called upon and implored +her, and it seemed as if peace came to her at once. She saw her +constantly near her, and often she regretted having done or thought of +things which would have displeased her. + +One evening as she was kissing her hands, a habit which she still at +times indulged in, she suddenly blushed and turned away, although she +was quite alone, for it seemed as if the little saint must have seen +her. Agnes was her guardian angel. + +Thus, at fifteen Angelique was an adorable child. Certainly, neither +the quiet, laborious life, nor the soothing shadows of the Cathedral, +nor the legends of the beautiful saints, had made her an angel, a +creature of absolute perfection. She was often angry, and certain +weaknesses of character showed themselves, which had never been +sufficiently guarded against; but she was always ashamed and penitent +if she had done wrong, for she wished so much to be perfect. And she +was so human, so full of life, so ignorant, and withal so pure in +reality. + +One day, on returning from a long excursion which the Huberts allowed +her to take twice a year, on Pentecost Monday and on Assumption Day, +she took home with her a sweetbriar bush, and then amused herself by +replanting it in the narrow garden. She trimmed it and watered it +well: it grew and sent out long branches, filled with odour. With her +usual intensity, she watched it daily, but was unwilling to have it +grafted, as she wished to see if, by some miracle, it could not be +made to bear roses. She danced around it, she repeated constantly: +"This bush is like me; it is like me!" And if one joked her upon her +great wild-rose bush, she joined them in their laughter, although a +little pale, and with tears almost ready to fall. Her violet-coloured +eyes were softer than ever, her half-opened lips revealed little white +teeth, and her oval face had a golden aureole from her light wavy +hair. She had grown tall without being too slight; her neck and +shoulders were exquisitely graceful; her chest was full, her waist +flexible; and gay, healthy, of a rare beauty, she had an infinite +charm, arising from the innocence and purity of her soul. + +Every day the affection of the Huberts for her increased. They often +talked together of their mutual wish to adopt her. Yet they took no +active measures in that way, lest they might have cause to regret it. +One morning, when the husband announced his final decision, his wife +suddenly began to weep bitterly. To adopt a child? Was not that the +same as giving up all hope of having one of their own? Yet it was +useless for them to expect one now, after so many years of waiting, +and she gave her consent, in reality delighted that she could call her +her daughter. When Angelique was spoken to on the subject, she threw +her arms around their necks, kissed them both, and was almost choked +with tears of joy. + +So it was agreed upon that she was always to remain with them in this +house, which now seemed to be filled with her presence, rejuvenated by +her youth, and penetrated by her laughter. But an unexpected obstacle +was met with at the first step. The Justice of the Peace, Monsieur +Grandsire, on being consulted, explained to them the radical +impossibility of adoption, since by law the adopted must be "of age." +Then, seeing their disappointment, he suggested the expedient of a +legal guardianship: any individual over fifty years of age can attach +himself to a minor of fifteen years or less by a legal claim, on +becoming their official protector. The ages were all right, so they +were delighted, and accepted. It was even arranged that they should +afterwards confer the title of adoption upon their ward by way of +their united last will and testament, as such a thing would be +permitted by the Code. Monsieur Grandsire, furnished with the demand +of the husband and the authorisation of the wife, then put himself in +communication with the Director of Public Aid, the general guardian +for all abandoned children, whose consent it was necessary to have. +Great inquiries were made, and at last the necessary papers were +placed in Paris, with a certain Justice of the Peace chosen for the +purpose. And all was ready except the official report which +constitutes the legality of guardianship, when the Huberts suddenly +were taken with certain scruples. + +Before receiving Angelique into their family, ought not they to +ascertain if she had any relatives on her side? Was her mother still +alive? Had they the right to dispose of the daughter without being +absolutely sure that she had willingly been given up and deserted? +Then, in reality, the unknown origin of the child, which had troubled +them long ago, came back to them now and made them hesitate. They were +so tormented by this anxiety that they could not sleep. + +Without any more talk, Hubert unexpectedly announced that he was going +to Paris. Such a journey seemed like a catastrophe in his calm +existence. He explained the necessity of it to Angelique, by speaking +of the guardianship. He hoped to arrange everything in twenty-four +hours. But once in the city, days passed; obstacles arose on every +side. He spent a week there, sent from one to another, really doing +nothing, and quite discouraged. In the first place, he was received +very coldly at the Office of Public Assistance. The rule of the +Administration is that children shall not be told of their parents +until they are of age. So for two mornings in succession he was sent +away from the office. He persisted, however, explained the matter to +three secretaries, made himself hoarse in talking to an under-officer, +who wished to counsel him that he had not official papers. The +Administration were quite ignorant. A nurse had left the child there, +"Angelique Marie," without naming the mother. In despair he was about +to return to Beaumont, when a new idea impelled him to return for the +fourth time to the office, to see the book in which the arrival of the +infant had been noted down, and in that way to have the address of the +nurse. That proved quite an undertaking. But at last he succeeded, and +found it was a Madame Foucart, and that in 1850 she lived on the Rue +des Deux-Ecus. + +Then he recommenced his hunting up and down. The end of the Rue des +Deux-Ecus had been demolished, and no shopkeeper in the neighbourhood +recollected ever having heard of Madame Foucart. He consulted the +directory, but there was no such name. Looking at every sign as he +walked along, he called on one after another, and at last, in this +way, he had the good fortune to find an old woman, who exclaimed, in +answer to his questions, "What! Do I know Madame Foucart? A most +honourable person, but one who has had many misfortunes. She lives on +the Rue de Censier, quite at the other end of Paris." He hastened +there at once. + +Warned by experience, he determined now to be diplomatic. But Madame +Foucart, an enormous woman, would not allow him to ask questions in +the good order he had arranged them before going there. As soon as he +mentioned the two names of the child, she seemed to be eager to talk, +and she related its whole history in a most spiteful way. "Ah! the +child was alive! Very well; she might flatter herself that she had for +a mother a most famous hussy. Yes, Madame Sidonie, as she was called +since she became a widow, was a woman of a good family, having, it is +said, a brother who was a minister, but that did not prevent her from +being very bad." And she explained that she had made her acquaintance +when she kept, on the Rue Saint-Honore, a little shop where they dealt +in fruit and oil from Provence, she and her husband, when they came +from Plassans, hoping to make their fortune in the city. The husband +died and was buried, and soon after Madame Sidonie had a little +daughter, which she sent at once to the hospital, and never after even +inquired for her, as she was "a heartless woman, cold as a protest and +brutal as a sheriff's aid." A fault can be pardoned, but not +ingratitude! Was not it true that, obliged to leave her shop as she +was so heavily in debt, she had been received and cared for by Madame +Foucart? And when in her turn she herself had fallen into +difficulties, she had never been able to obtain from Madame Sidonie, +even the month's board she owed her, nor the fifteen francs she had +once lent her. To-day the "hateful thing" lived on the Rue de +Faubourg-Poissonniere, where she had a little apartment of three +rooms. She pretended to be a cleaner and mender of lace, but she sold +a good many other things. Ah! yes! such a mother as that it was best +to know nothing about! + +An hour later, Hubert was walking round the house where Madame Sidonie +lived. He saw through the window a woman, thin, pale, coarse-looking, +wearing an old black gown, stained and greased. Never could the heart +of such a person be touched by the recollection of a daughter whom she +had only seen on the day of its birth. He concluded it would be best +not to repeat, even to his wife, many things that he had just learned. +Still he hesitated. Once more he passed by the place, and looked +again. Ought not he to go in, to introduce himself, and to ask the +consent of the unnatural parent? As an honest man, it was for him to +judge if he had the right of cutting the tie there and for ever. +Brusquely he turned his back, hurried away, and returned that evening +to Beaumont. + +Hubertine had just learned that the _proces-verbal_ at Monsieur +Grandsire's, for the guardianship of the child, had been signed. And +when Angelique threw herself into Hubert's arms, he saw clearly by the +look of supplication in her eyes, that she had understood the true +reason of his journey. + +Then he said quietly: "My child, your mother is not living." Angelique +wept, as she kissed him most affectionately. After this the subject +was not referred to. She was their daughter. + +At Whitsuntide, this year, the Huberts had taken Angelique with them +to lunch at the ruins of the Chateau d'Hautecoeur, which overlooks the +Ligneul, two leagues below Beaumont; and, after the day spent in +running and laughing in the open air, the young girl still slept when, +the next morning, the old house-clock struck eight. + +Hubertine was obliged to go up and rap at her door. + +"Ah, well! Little lazy child! We have already had our breakfast, and +it is late." + +Angelique dressed herself quickly and went down to the kitchen, where +she took her rolls and coffee alone. Then, when she entered the +workroom, where Hubert and his wife had just seated themselves, after +having arranged their frames for embroidery, she said: + +"Oh! how soundly I did sleep! I had quite forgotten that we had +promised to finish this chasuble for next Sunday." + +This workroom, the windows of which opened upon the garden, was a +large apartment, preserved almost entirely in its original state. The +two principal beams of the ceiling, and the three visible cross-beams +of support, had not even been whitewashed, and they were blackened by +smoke and worm-eaten, while, through the openings of the broken +plaster, here and there, the laths of the inner joists could be seen. +On one of the stone corbels, which supported the beams, was the date +1463, without doubt the date of the construction of the building. The +chimney-piece, also in stone, broken and disjointed, had traces of its +original elegance, with its slender uprights, its brackets, its frieze +with a cornice, and its basket-shaped funnel terminating in a crown. +On the frieze could be seen even now, as if softened by age, an +ingenious attempt at sculpture, in the way of a likeness of Saint +Clair, the patron of embroiderers. But this chimney was no longer +used, and the fireplace had been turned into an open closet by putting +shelves therein, on which were piles of designs and patterns. The room +was now heated by a great bell-shaped cast-iron stove, the pipe of +which, after going the whole length of the ceiling, entered an opening +made expressly for it in the wall. The doors, already shaky, were of +the time of Louis XIV. The original tiles of the floor were nearly all +gone, and had been replaced, one by one, by those of a later style. It +was nearly a hundred years since the yellow walls had been coloured, +and at the top of the room they were almost of a greyish white, and, +lower down, were scratched and spotted with saltpetre. Each year there +was talk of repainting them, but nothing had yet been done, from a +dislike of making any change. + +Hubertine, busy at her work, raised her head as Angelique spoke and +said: + +"You know that if our work is done on Sunday, I have promised to give +you a basket of pansies for your garden." + +The young girl exclaimed gaily: "Oh, yes! that is true. Ah, well! I +will do my best then! But where is my thimble? It seems as if all +working implements take to themselves wings and fly away, if not in +constant use." + +She flipped the old _doigtier_ of ivory on the second joint of her +little finger, and took her place on the other side of the frame, +opposite to the window. + +Since the middle of the last century there had not been the slightest +modification in the fittings and arrangements of the workroom. +Fashions changed, the art of the embroiderer was transformed, but +there was still seen fastened to the wall the chantlate, the great +piece of wood where was placed one end of the frame or work, while the +other end was supported by a moving trestle. In the corners were many +ancient tools--a little machine called a "diligent," with its wheels +and its long pins, to wind the gold thread on the reels without +touching it; a hand spinning-wheel; a species of pulley to twist the +threads which were attached to the wall; rollers of various sizes +covered with silks and threads used in the crochet embroidery. Upon a +shelf was spread out an old collection of punches for the spangles, +and there was also to be seen a valuable relic, in the shape of the +classic chandelier in hammered brass which belonged to some ancient +master-workman. On the rings of a rack made of a nailed leather strap +were hung awls, mallets, hammers, irons to cut the vellum, and +roughing chisels of bogwood, which were used to smooth the threads as +fast as they were employed. And yet again, at the foot of the heavy +oaken table on which the cutting-out was done, was a great winder, +whose two movable reels of wicker held the skeins. Long chains of +spools of bright-coloured silks strung on cords were hung near that +case of drawers. On the floor was a large basket filled with empty +bobbins. A pair of great shears rested on the straw seat of one of the +chairs, and a ball of cord had just fallen on the floor, half unwound. + +"Oh! what lovely weather! What perfect weather!" continued Angelique. +"It is a pleasure simply to live and to breathe." + +And before stooping to apply herself to her work, she delayed another +moment before the open window, through which entered all the beauty of +a radiant May morning. + + + + CHAPTER IV + +The sun shone brightly on the roof of the Cathedral, a fresh odour of +lilacs came up from the bushes in the garden of the Bishop. Angelique +smiled, as she stood there, dazzled, and as if bathed in the +springtide. Then, starting as if suddenly awakened from sleep, she +said: + +"Father, I have no more gold thread for my work." + +Hubert, who had just finished pricking the tracing of the pattern of a +cope, went to get a skein from the case of drawers, cut it, tapered +off the two ends by scratching the gold which covered the silk, and he +brought it to her rolled up in parchment. + +"Is that all you need?" + +"Yes, thanks." + +With a quick glance she had assured herself that nothing more was +wanting; the needles were supplied with the different golds, the red, +the green, and the blue; there were spools of every shade of silk; the +spangles were ready; and the twisted wires for the gold lace were in +the crown of a hat which served as a box, with the long fine needles, +the steel pincers, the thimbles, the scissors, and the ball of wax. +All these were on the frame even, or on the material stretched +therein, which was protected by a thick brown paper. + +She had threaded a needle with the gold thread. But at the first +stitch it broke, and she was obliged to thread it again, breaking off +tiny bits of the gold, which she threw immediately into the pasteboard +waste-basket which was near her. + +"Now at last I am ready," she said, as she finished her first stitch. + +Perfect silence followed. Hubert was preparing to stretch some +material on another frame. He had placed the two heavy ends on the +chantlate and the trestle directly opposite in such a way as to take +lengthwise the red silk of the cope, the breadths of which Hubertine +had just stitched together, and fitting the laths into the mortice of +the beams, he fastened them with four little nails. Then, after +smoothing the material many times from right to left, he finished +stretching it and tacked on the nails. To assure himself that it was +thoroughly tight and firm, he tapped on the cloth with his fingers and +it sounded like a drum. + +Angelique had become a most skilful worker, and the Huberts were +astonished at her cleverness and taste. In addition to what they had +taught her, she carried into all she did her personal enthusiasm, +which gave life to flowers and faith to symbols. Under her hands, silk +and gold seemed animated; the smaller ornaments were full of mystic +meaning; she gave herself up to it entirely, with her imagination +constantly active and her firm belief in the infinitude of the +invisible world. + +The Diocese of Beaumont had been so charmed with certain pieces of her +embroidery, that a clergyman who was an archaeologist, and another who +was an admirer of pictures, had come to see her, and were in raptures +before her Virgins, which they compared to the simple gracious figures +of the earliest masters. There was the same sincerity, the same +sentiment of the beyond, as if encircled in the minutest perfection of +detail. She had the real gift of design, a miraculous one indeed, +which, without a teacher, with nothing but her evening studies by +lamplight, enabled her often to correct her models, to deviate +entirely from them, and to follow her own fancies, creating beautiful +things with the point of her needle. So the Huberts, who had always +insisted that a thorough knowledge of the science of drawing was +necessary to make a good embroiderer, were obliged to yield before +her, notwithstanding their long experience. And, little by little, +they modestly withdrew into the background, becoming simply her aids, +surrendering to her all the most elaborate work, the under part of +which they prepared for her. + +From one end of the year to the other, what brilliant and sacred +marvels passed through her hands! She was always occupied with silks, +satins, velvets, or cloths of gold or silver. She embroidered +chasubles, stoles, maniples, copes, dalmatics, mitres, banners, and +veils for the chalice and the pyx. But, above all, their orders for +chasubles never failed, and they worked constantly at those vestments, +with their five colours: the white, for Confessors and Virgins; the +red, for Apostles and Martyrs; the black, for the days of fasting and +for the dead; the violet, for the Innocents; and the green for fete- +days. Gold was also often used in place of white or of green. The same +symbols were always in the centre of the Cross: the monograms of Jesus +and of the Virgin Mary, the triangle surrounded with rays, the lamb, +the pelican, the dove, a chalice, a monstrance, and a bleeding heart +pierced with thorns; while higher up and on the arms were designs, or +flowers, all the ornamentation being in the ancient style, and all the +flora in large blossoms, like anemones, tulips, peonies, pomegranates, +or hortensias. No season passed in which she did not remake the grapes +and thorns symbolic, putting silver on black, and gold on red. For the +most costly vestments, she varied the pictures of the heads of saints, +having, as a central design, the Annunciation, the Last Supper, or the +Crucifixion. Sometimes the orfreys were worked on the original +material itself; at others, she applied bands of silk or satin on +brocades of gold cloth, or of velvet. And all this efflorescence of +sacred splendour was created, little by little, by her deft fingers. +At this moment the vestment on which Angelique was at work was a +chasuble of white satin, the cross of which was made by a sheaf of +golden lilies intertwined with bright roses, in various shades of +silk. In the centre, in a wreath of little roses of dead gold, was the +monogram of the Blessed Virgin, in red and green gold, with a great +variety of ornaments. + +For an hour, during which she skilfully finished the little roses, the +silence had not been broken even by a single word. But her thread +broke again, and she re-threaded her needle by feeling carefully under +the frame, as only an adroit person can do. Then, as she raised her +head, she again inhaled with satisfaction the pure, fresh air that +came in from the garden. + +"Ah!" she said softly, "how beautiful it was yesterday! The sunshine +is always perfect." + +Hubertine shook her head as she stopped to wax her thread. + +"As for me, I am so wearied, it seems as if I had no arms, and it +tires me to work. But that is not strange, for I so seldom go out, and +am no longer young and strong, as you are at sixteen." + +Angelique had reseated herself and resumed her work. She prepared the +lilies by sewing bits of vellum on certain places that had been +marked, so as to give them relief, but the flowers themselves were not +to be made until later, for fear the gold be tarnished were the hands +moved much over it. + +Hubert, who, having finished arranging the material in its frame, was +about drawing with pumice the pattern of the cope, joined in the +conversation and said: "These first warm days of spring are sure to +give me a terrible headache." + +Angelique's eyes seemed to be vaguely lost in the rays which now fell +upon one of the flying buttresses of the church, as she dreamily +added: "Oh no, father, I do not think so. One day in the lively air, +like yesterday, does me a world of good." + +Having finished the little golden leaves, she began one of the large +roses, near the lilies. Already she had threaded several needles with +the silks required, and she embroidered in stitches varying in length, +according to the natural position and movement of the petals, and +notwithstanding the extreme delicacy and absorbing nature of this +work, the recollections of the previous day, which she lived over +again in thought and in silence, now came to her lips, and crowded so +closely upon each other that she no longer tried to keep them back. So +she talked of their setting out upon their expedition, of the +beautiful fields they crossed, of their lunch over there in the ruins +of Hautecoeur, upon the flagstones of a little room whose tumble-down +walls towered far above the Ligneul, which rolled gently among the +willows fifty yards below them. + +She was enthusiastic over these crumbling ruins, and the scattered +blocks of stone among the brambles, which showed how enormous the +colossal structure must have been as, when first built, it commanded +the two valleys. The donjon remained, nearly two hundred feet in +height, discoloured, cracked, but nevertheless firm, upon its +foundation pillars fifteen feet thick. Two of its towers had also +resisted the attacks of Time--that of Charlemagne and that of David-- +united by a heavy wall almost intact. In the interior, the chapel, the +court-room, and certain chambers were still easily recognised; and all +this appeared to have been built by giants, for the steps of the +stairways, the sills of the windows, and the branches on the terraces, +were all on a scale far out of proportion for the generation of +to-day. It was, in fact, quite a little fortified city. Five hundred +men could have sustained there a siege of thirty months without +suffering from want of ammunition or of provisions. For two centuries +the bricks of the lowest story had been disjointed by the wild roses; +lilacs and laburnums covered with blossoms the rubbish of the fallen +ceilings; a plane-tree had even grown up in the fireplace of the +guardroom. But when, at sunset, the outline of the donjon cast its +long shadow over three leagues of cultivated ground, and the colossal +Chateau seemed to be rebuilt in the evening mists, one still felt the +great strength, and the old sovereignty, which had made of it so +impregnable a fortress that even the kings of France trembled before +it. + +"And I am sure," continued Angelique, "that it is inhabited by the +souls of the dead, who return at night. All kinds of noises are heard +there; in every direction are monsters who look at you, and when I +turned round as we were coming away, I saw great white figures +fluttering above the wall. But, mother, you know all the history of +the castle, do you not?" + +Hubertine replied, as she smiled in an amused way: "Oh! as for ghosts, +I have never seen any of them myself." + +But in reality, she remembered perfectly the history, which she had +read long ago, and to satisfy the eager questionings of the young +girl, she was obliged to relate it over again. + +The land belonged to the Bishopric of Rheims, since the days of Saint +Remi, who had received it from Clovis. + +An archbishop, Severin, in the early years of the tenth century, had +erected at Hautecoeur a fortress to defend the country against the +Normans, who were coming up the river Oise, into which the Ligneul +flows. + +In the following century a successor of Severin gave it in fief to +Norbert, a younger son of the house of Normandy, in consideration of +an annual quit-rent of sixty sous, and on the condition that the city +of Beaumont and its church should remain free and unincumbered. It was +in this way that Norbert I became the head of the Marquesses of +Hautecoeur, whose famous line from that date became so well known in +history. Herve IV, excommunicated twice for his robbery of +ecclesiastical property, became a noted highwayman, who killed, on a +certain occasion, with his own hands, thirty citizens, and his tower +was razed to the ground by Louis le Gros, against whom he had dared to +declare war. Raoul I, who went to the Crusades with Philip Augustus, +perished before Saint Jean d'Acre, having been pierced through the +heart by a lance. But the most illustrious of the race was John V, the +Great, who, in 1225, rebuilt the fortress, finishing in less than five +years this formidable Chateau of Hautecoeur, under whose shelter he, +for a moment, dreamed of aspiring to the throne of France, and after +having escaped from being killed in twenty battles, he at last died +quietly in his bed, brother-in-law to the King of Scotland. Then came +Felician III, who made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem barefooted; Herve +VII, who asserted his claims to the throne of Scotland; and still many +others, noble and powerful in their day and generation, down to Jean +IX, who, under Mazarin, had the grief of assisting at the dismantling +of the castle. After a desperate siege, the vaults of the towers and +of the donjon were blown up with powder, and the different +constructions were set on fire; where Charles VI had been sent to +rest, and to turn his attention from his vagaries, and where, nearly +two hundred years later, Henri IV had passed a week as Gabrielle +D'Estress. Thenceforth, all these royal souvenirs had passed into +oblivion. + +Angelique, without stopping the movement of her needle, listened +eagerly, as if the vision of these past grandeurs rose up from her +frame, in proportion as the rose grew there in its delicate life of +colour. Her ignorance of general history enlarged facts, and she +received them as if they were the basis of a marvellous legend. She +trembled with delight, and, transported by her faith, it seemed as if +the reconstructed Chateau mounted to the very gates of heaven, and the +Hautecoeurs were cousins to the Virgin Mary. + +When there was a pause in the recital she asked, "Is not our new +Bishop Monseigneur d'Hautecoeur, a descendant of this noted family?" + +Hubertine replied that Monseigneur must belong to the younger branch +of the family, as the elder branch had been extinct for a very long +time. It was, indeed, a most singular return, as for centuries the +Marquesses of Hautecoeur and the clergy of Beaumont had been hostile +to each other. Towards 1150 an abbot undertook to build a church, with +no other resources than those of his Order; so his funds soon gave +out, when the edifice was no higher than the arches of the side +chapels, and they were obliged to cover the nave with a wooden roof. +Eighty years passed, and Jean V came to rebuild the Chateau, when he +gave three hundred thousand pounds, which, added to other sums, +enabled the work on the church to be continued. The nave was finished, +but the two towers and the great front were terminated much later, +towards 1430, in the full fifteenth century. To recompense Jean V for +his liberality, the clergy accorded to him, for himself and his +descendants, the right of burial in a chapel of the apse, consecrated +to St. George, and which, since that time, had been called the Chapel +Hautecoeur. But these good terms were not of long duration. The +freedom of Beaumont was put in constant peril by the Chateau, and +there were continual hostilities on the questions of tribute and of +precedence. One especially, the right of paying toll, which the nobles +demanded for the navigation of the Ligneul, perpetuated the quarrels. +Then it was that the great prosperity of the lower town began, with +its manufacturing of fine linen and lace, and from this epoch the +fortune of Beaumont increased daily, while that of Hautecoeur +diminished, until the time when the castle was dismantled and the +church triumphed. Louis XIV made of it a cathedral, a bishop's palace +was built in the old enclosure of the monks, and, by a singular chain +of circumstances, to-day a member of the family of Hautecoeur had +returned as a bishop to command the clergy, who, always powerful, had +conquered his ancestors, after a contest of four hundred years. + +"But," said Angelique, "Monseigneur has been married, and has not he a +son at least twenty years of age?" + +Hubertine had taken up the shears to remodel one of the pieces of +vellum. + +"Yes," she replied, "the Abbot Cornille told me the whole story, and +it is a very sad history. When but twenty years of age, Monseigneur +was a captain under Charles X. In 1830, when only four-and-twenty, he +resigned his position in the army, and it is said that from that time +until he was forty years of age he led an adventurous life, travelling +everywhere and having many strange experiences. At last, one evening, +he met, at the house of a friend in the country, the daughter of the +Count de Valencay, Mademoiselle Pauline, very wealthy, marvellously +beautiful, and scarcely nineteen years of age, twenty-two years +younger than himself. He fell violently in love with her, and, as she +returned his affection, there was no reason why the marriage should +not take place at once. He then bought the ruins of Hautecoeur for a +mere song--ten thousand francs, I believe--with the intention of +repairing the Chateau and installing his wife therein when all would +be in order and in readiness to receive her. In the meanwhile they +went to live on one of his family estates in Anjou, scarcely seeing +any of their friends, and finding in their united happiness the days +all too short. But, alas! at the end of a year Pauline had a son and +died." + +Hubert, who was still occupied with marking out his pattern, raised +his head, showing a very pale face as he said in a low voice: "Oh! the +unhappy man!" + +"It was said that he himself almost died from his great grief," +continued Hubertine. "At all events, a fortnight later he entered into +Holy Orders, and soon became a priest. That was twenty years ago, and +now he is a bishop. But I have also been told that during all this +time he has refused to see his son, the child whose birth cost the +life of its mother. He had placed him with an uncle of his wife's, an +old abbot, not wishing even to hear of him, and trying to forget his +existence. One day a picture of the boy was sent him, but in looking +at it he found so strong a resemblance to his beloved dead that he +fell on the floor unconscious and stiff, as if he had received a blow +from a hammer. . . . Now age and prayer have helped to soften his deep +grief, for yesterday the good Father Cornille told me that Monseigneur +had just decided to send for his son to come to him." + +Angelique, having finished her rose, so fresh and natural that +perfume seemed to be exhaled from it, looked again through the window +into the sunny garden, and, as if in a reverie, she said in a low +voice: "The son of Monseigneur!" + +Hubertine continued her story. + +"It seems that the young man is handsome as a god, and his father +wished him to be educated for the priesthood. But the old abbot would +not consent to that, saying that the youth had not the slightest +inclination in that direction. And then, to crown all, his wealth, it +is said, is enormous. Two million pounds sterling! Yes, indeed! His +mother left him a tenth of that sum, which was invested in land in +Paris, where the increase in the price of real estate has been so +great, that to-day it represents fifty millions of francs. In short, +rich as a king!" + +"Rich as a king, beautiful as a god!" repeated Angelique +unconsciously, in her dreamy voice. + +And with one hand she mechanically took from the frame a bobbin wound +with gold thread, in order to make the open-work centre of one of the +large lilies. After having loosened the end from the point of the +reel, she fastened it with a double stitch of silk to the edge of the +vellum which was to give a thickness to the embroidery. Then, +continuing her work, she said again, without finishing her thought, +which seemed lost in the vagueness of its desire, "Oh! as for me, what +I would like, that which I would like above all else----" + +The silence fell again, deep and profound, broken only by the dull +sound of chanting which came from the church. Hubert arranged his +design by repassing with a little brush all the perforated lines of +the drawing, and thus the ornamentation of the cope appeared in white +on the red silk. It was he who first resumed speaking. + +"Ah! those ancient days were magnificent! Noblemen then wore costumes +weighted with embroidery. At Lyons, material was sometimes sold for as +much as six hundred francs an ell. One ought to read the by-laws and +regulations of the Guild of Master Workmen, where it is laid down that +'The embroiderers of the King have always the right to summon, by +armed force if necessary, the workmen of other masters.' . . . And +then we had coats of arms, too! Azure, a fesso engrailed or, between +three fleurs-de-lys of the same, two of them being near the top and +the third in the point. Ah! it was indeed beautiful in the days of +long ago!" + +He stopped a moment, tapping the frame with his fingers to shake off +the dust. Then he continued: + +"At Beaumont they still have a legend about the Hautecoeurs, which my +mother often related to me when I was a child. . . . A frightful +plague ravaged the town, and half of the inhabitants had already +fallen victims to it, when Jean V, he who had rebuilt the fortress, +perceived that God had given him the power to contend against the +scourge. Then he went on foot to the houses of the sick, fell on his +knees, kissed them, and as soon as his lips had touched them, while he +said, 'If God is willing, I wish it,' the sufferers were healed. And lo! +that is why these words have remained the device of the Hautecoeurs, +who all have since that day been able to cure the plague. . . . Ah! +what a proud race of men! A noble dynasty! Monseigneur himself is +called Jean XII, and the first name of his son must also be followed +by a number, like that of a prince." + +He stopped. Each one of his words lulled and prolonged the reverie of +Angelique. She continued, in a half-singing tone: "Oh! what I wish for +myself! That which I would like above all else----" + +Holding the bobbin, without touching the thread, she twisted the gold +by moving it from left to right alternately on the vellum, fastening +it at each turn with a stitch in silk. Little by little the great +golden lily blossomed out. + +Soon she continued: "Yes, what I would like above all would be to +marry a prince--a prince whom I had never seen; who would come towards +sunset, just before the waning daylight, and would take me by the hand +and lead me to his palace. And I should wish him to be very handsome, +as well as very rich! Yes, the most beautiful and the wealthiest man +that had ever been seen on the earth! He should have superb horses +that I could hear neighing under my windows, and jewels which he would +pour in streams into my lap, and gold that would fall from my hands in +a deluge when I opened them. And what I wish still further is, that +this prince of mine should love me to distraction, so that I might +also love him desperately. We would then remain very young, very good, +and very noble, for ever!" + +Hubert, leaving his work, had approached her smilingly; whilst +Hubertine, in a friendly way, shook her finger at the young girl. + +"Oh, what a vain little creature! Ah! ambitious child, you are quite +incorrigible. Now, you are quite beside yourself with your need of +being a queen. At all events such a dream is much better than to steal +sugar and to be impertinent. But really, you must not indulge in such +fancies. It is the Evil One who prompts them, and it is pride that +speaks, as well as passion." + +Gay and candid, Angelique looked her in the face as she said: "But +mother, mother mine, what are you saying? Is it, then, a sin to love +that which is rich and beautiful? I love it because it is rich and +beautiful, and so cheers my heart and soul. A beautiful object +brightens everything that is near it, and helps one to live, as the +sun does. You know very well that I am not selfish. Money? Oh! you +would see what a good use I would make of it, if only I had it in +abundance! I would rain it over the town; it should be scattered among +the miserable. Think what a blessing it would be to have no more +poverty! In the first place, as for you and my father, I would give +you everything. You should be dressed in robes and garments of +brocades, like the lords and ladies of the olden time." + +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "It is ridiculous," she +said. "But, my dear child, you must remember that you are poor, and +that you have not a penny for your marriage-portion. How can you, +then, for a moment dream of a prince? Are you, then, so desirous to +marry a prince?" + +"Why should not I wish to marry such a man?" And she looked quite +amazed, as she continued: "Marry him? Of course I would do so. Since +he would have plenty of money, what difference would it make if I had +none? I should owe everything to him, and on that very account I +should love him all the more deeply." + +This victorious reasoning enchanted Hubert, who seemed carried above +the earth by Angelique's enthusiasm. He would willingly have +accompanied her on the wings of a cloud to the regions of fancy. + +"She is right," he exclaimed. + +But his wife glanced at him reprovingly. She became quite stern. + +"My child, you will think differently later on, when you know life +better." + +"Life?--but I know it already." + +"How is it possible for you to know it? You are too young; you are +ignorant of evil. Yet evil exists and is very powerful." + +"Evil--evil?" + +Angelique repeated the word very slowly, as if to penetrate its +meaning. And in her pure eyes was a look of innocent surprise. Evil? +She knew all about it, for she had read of it in the "Golden Legend." +Was not evil Satan himself? And had not she seen how, although he +constantly reappeared, he was always overthrown? After every battle he +remained crushed to earth, thoroughly conquered, and in a most +pitiable state. + +"Evil? Ah, mother mine, if you knew how little I fear it! It is only +necessary once to conquer it and afterwards life is all happiness." + +Hubertine appeared troubled and looked anxious. + +"You will make me almost regret having brought you up in this house, +alone with us two, and away from the world as it were. I am really +afraid that some day we shall regret having kept you in such complete +ignorance of the realities of life. What Paradise are you looking for? +What is your idea of the world?" + +A look of hope brightened the face of the young girl, while, bending +forward, she still moved the bobbin back and forth with a continuous, +even motion. + +"You then really think, mother, that I am very foolish, do you not? +This world is full of brave people. When one is honest and +industrious, one is always rewarded. I know also that there are some +bad people, but they do not count. We do not associate with them, and +they are soon punished for their misdeeds. And then, you see, as for +the world, it produces on me, from a distance, the effect of a great +garden; yes, of an immense park, all filled with flowers and with +sunshine. It is such a blessing to live, and life is so sweet that it +cannot be bad." + +She grew excited, as if intoxicated by the brightness of the silks and +the gold threads she manipulated so well with her skilful fingers. + +"Happiness is a very simple thing. We are happy, are we not? All three +of us? And why? Simply because we love each other. Then, after all, it +is no more difficult than that; it is only necessary to love and to be +loved. So, you see, when the one I expect really comes, we shall +recognise each other immediately. It is true I have not yet seen him, +but I know exactly what he ought to be. He will enter here and will +say: 'I have come in search of you.' And I shall reply: 'I expected +you, and will go with you.' He will take me with him, and our future +will be at once decided upon. He will go into a palace, where all the +furniture will be of gold, encrusted in diamonds. Oh, it is all very +simple!" + +"You are crazy; so do not talk any more," interrupted Hubertine, +coldly. + +And seeing that the young girl was still excited, and ready to +continue to indulge her fancies, she continued to reprove her. + +"I beg you to say no more, for you absolutely make me tremble. Unhappy +child! When we really marry you to some poor mortal you will be +crushed, as you fall to earth from these heights of the imagination. +Happiness, for the greater part of the world, consists in humility and +obedience." + +Angelique continued to smile with an almost obstinate tranquillity. + +"I expect him, and he will come." + +"But she is right," exclaimed Hubert, again carried away by her +enthusiasm. "Why need you scold her? She is certainly pretty, and +dainty enough for a king. Stranger things than that have happened, and +who knows what may come?" + +Sadly Hubertine looked at him with her calm eyes. + +"Do not encourage her to do wrong, my dear. You know, better than +anyone, what it costs to follow too much the impulses of one's heart." + +He turned deadly pale, and great tears came to the edge of his +eyelids. She immediately repented of having reproved him, and rose to +offer him her hands. But gently disengaging himself, he said, +stammeringly: + +"No, no, my dear; I was wrong. Angelique, do you understand me? You +must always listen to your mother. She alone is wise, and we are both +of us very foolish. I am wrong; yes, I acknowledge it." + +Too disturbed to sit down, leaving the cope upon which he had been +working, he occupied himself in pasting a banner that was finished, +although still in its frame. After having taken the pot of Flemish +glue from the chest of drawers, he moistened with a brush the +underside of the material, to make the embroidery firmer. His lips +still trembled, and he remained quiet. + +But if Angelique, in her obedience, was also still, she allowed her +thoughts to follow their course, and her fancies mounted higher and +still higher. She showed it in every feature--in her mouth, that +ecstasy had half opened, as well as in her eyes, where the infinite +depth of her visions seemed reflected. Now, this dream of a poor girl, +she wove it into the golden embroidery. It was for this unknown hero +that, little by little, there seemed to grow on the white satin the +beautiful great lilies, and the roses, and the monogram of the Blessed +Virgin. The stems of the lilies had all the gracious pointings of a +jet of light, whilst the long slender leaves, made of spangles, each +one being sewed on with gold twist, fell in a shower of stars. In the +centre, the initials of Mary were like the dazzling of a relief in +massive gold, a marvellous blending of lacework and of embossing, or +goffering, which burnt like the glory of a tabernacle in the mystic +fire of its rays. And the roses of delicately-coloured silks seemed +real, and the whole chasuble was resplendent in its whiteness of +satin, which appeared covered almost miraculously with its golden +blossoms. + +After a long silence, Angelique, whose cheeks were flushed by the +blood which mounted into them from her excitement, raised her head, +and, looking at Hubertine, said again, a little maliciously: + +"I expect him, and he will come." + +It was absurd for her thus to give loose reins to her imagination. But +she was willful. She was convinced in her own mind that everything +would come to pass, eventually, as she wished it might. Nothing could +weaken her happy conviction. + +"Mother," she added, "why do you not believe me, since I assure you it +must be as I say?" + +Hubertine shrugged her shoulders, and concluded the best thing for her +to do was to tease her. + +"But I thought, my child, that you never intended being married. Your +saints, who seem to have turned your head, they led single lives. +Rather than do otherwise they converted their lovers, ran away from +their homes, and were put to death." + +The young girl listened and was confused. But soon she laughed +merrily. Her perfect health, and all her love of life, rang out in +this sonorous gaiety. "The histories of the saints! But that was ages +ago! Times have entirely changed since then. God having so completely +triumphed, no longer demands that anyone should die for Him." + +When reading the Legend, it was the marvels which fascinated her, not +the contempt of the world and the desire for death. She added: "Most +certainly I expect to be married; to love and to be loved, and thus be +very happy." + +"Be careful, my dear," said Hubertine, continuing to tease her. "You +will make your guardian angel, Saint Agnes, weep. Do not you know that +she refused the son of the Governor, and preferred to die, that she +might be wedded to Jesus?" + +The great clock of the belfry began to strike; numbers of sparrows +flew down from an enormous ivy-plant which framed one of the windows +of the apse. In the workroom, Hubert, still silent, had just hung up +the banner, moist from the glue, that it might dry, on one of the +great iron hooks fastened to the wall. + +The sun in the course of the morning had lightened up different parts +of the room, and now it shone brightly upon the old tools--the +diligent, the wicker winder, and the brass chandelier--and as its rays +fell upon the two workers, the frame at which they were seated seemed +almost on fire, with its bands polished by use, and with the various +objects placed upon it, the reels of gold cord, the spangles, and the +bobbins of silk. + +Then, in this soft, charming air of spring, Angelique looked at the +beautiful symbolic lily she had just finished. Opening wide her +ingenuous eyes, she replied, with an air of confiding happiness, to +Hubertine's last remark in regard to the child-martyr, Saint Agnes: + +"Ah, yes! But it was Jesus who wished it to be so." + + + + CHAPTER V + +Notwithstanding her thoroughly cheerful nature, Angelique liked +solitude; and it was to her the greatest of recreations to be alone in +her room, morning and evening. There she gave herself up to her +thoughts; there she indulged to the full scope in her most joyous +fancies. Sometimes even during the day, when she could go there for a +moment, she was as happy as if, in full freedom, she had committed +some childish prank. + +The chamber was very large, taking in at least half of the upper +story, the other half being the garret. It was whitewashed everywhere; +not only the walls and the beams, but the joists, even to the visible +copings of the mansard part of the roof; and in this bare whiteness, +the old oaken furniture seemed almost as black as ebony. At the time +of the decoration of the sleeping-room below, and the improvements +made in the parlour, the ancient furniture, which had been bought at +various epochs, had been carried upstairs. There was a great carved +chest of the Renaissance period, a table and chairs which dated from +the reign of Louis XIII, an enormous bedstead, style Louis XIV, and a +very handsome wardrobe, Louis XV. In the middle of these venerable old +things a white porcelain stove, and the little toilet-table, covered +with a pretty oilcloth, seemed out of place and to mar the dull +harmony. Curtained with an old-fashioned rose-coloured chintz, on +which were bouquets of heather, so faded that the colour had become a +scarcely perceptible pink, the enormous bedstead preserved above all +the majesty of its great age. + +But what pleased Angelique more than anything else was the little +balcony on which the window opened. Of the two original windows, one +of them, that at the left, had been closed by simply fastening it with +nails, and the balcony, which formerly extended across the front of +the building, was now only before the window at the right. As the +lower beams were still strong, a new floor had been made, and above it +an iron railing was firmly attached in place of the old worm-eaten +wooden balustrade. This made a charming little corner, a quiet nook +under the gable point, the leaden laths of which had been renewed at +the beginning of the century. By bending over a little, the whole +garden-front of the house could be seen in a very dilapidated state, +with its sub-basement of little cut stones, its panels ornamented with +imitation bricks, and its large bay window, which to-day had been made +somewhat smaller. The roof of the great porch of the kitchen-door was +covered with zinc. And above, the interduces of the top, which +projected three feet or more, were strengthened by large, upright +pieces of wood, the ends of which rested on the string-course of the +first floor. All this gave to the balcony an appearance of being in a +perfect vegetation of timber, as if in the midst of a forest of old +wood, which was green with wallflowers and moss. + +Since she occupied the chamber, Angelique had spent many hours there, +leaning over the balustrade and simply looking. At first, directly +under her was the garden, darkened by the eternal shade of the +evergreen box-trees; in the corner nearest the church, a cluster of +small lilac-bushes surrounded an old granite bench; while in the +opposite corner, half hidden by a beautiful ivy which covered the +whole wall at the end as if with a mantle, was a little door opening +upon the Clos-Marie, a vast, uncultivated field. This Clos-Marie was +the old orchard of the monks. A rivulet of purest spring-water crossed +it, the Chevrotte, where the women who occupied the houses in the +neighbourhood had the privilege of washing their linen; certain poor +people sheltered themselves in the ruins of an old tumble-down mill; +and no other persons inhabited this field, which was connected with +the Rue Magloire simply by the narrow lane of the Guerdaches, which +passed between the high walls of the Bishop's Palace and those of the +Hotel Voincourt. In summer, the centenarian elms of the two parks +barred with their green-leaved tops the straight, limited horizon +which in the centre was cut off by the gigantic brow of the Cathedral. +Thus shut in on all sides, the Clos-Marie slept in the quiet peace of +its abandonment, overrun with weeds and wild grass, planted with +poplars and willows sown by the wind. Among the great pebbles the +Chevrotte leaped, singing as it went, and making a continuous music as +if of crystal. + +Angelique was never weary of this out-of-the-way nook. Yet for seven +years she had seen there each morning only what she had looked at on +the previous evening. The trees in the little park of the Hotel +Voincourt, whose front was on the Grand Rue, were so tufted and bushy +that it was only in the winter she could occasionally catch a glimpse +of the daughter of the Countess, Mademoiselle Claire, a young girl of +her own age. + +In the garden of the Bishop was a still more dense thickness of +branches, and she had often tried in vain to distinguish there the +violet-coloured cassock of Monseigneur; and the old gate, with its +Venetian slats above and at the sides, must have been fastened up for +a very long time, for she never remembered to have seen it opened, not +even for a gardener to pass through. Besides the washerwomen in the +Clos, she always saw the same poor, ragged little children playing or +sleeping in the grass. + +The spring this year was unusually mild. She was just sixteen years of +age, and until now she had been glad to welcome with her eyes alone +the growing green again of the Clos-Marie under the April sunshine. +The shooting out of the tender leaves, the transparency of the warm +evenings, and all the reviving odours of the earth had simply amused +her heretofore. But this year, at the first bud, her heart seemed to +beat more quickly. As the grass grew higher and the wind brought to +her all the strong perfumes of the fresh verdure, there was in her +whole being an increasing agitation. Sudden inexplicable pain would at +times seize her throat and almost choke her. One evening she threw +herself, weeping, into Hubertine's arms, having no cause whatever for +grief, but, on the contrary, overwhelmed with so great, unknown a +happiness, that her heart was too full for restraint. In the night her +dreams were delightful. Shadows seemed to pass before her, and she +fell into such an ecstatic state that on awakening she did not dare to +recall them, so confused was she by the angelic visions of bliss. +Sometimes, in the middle of her great bed, she would rouse herself +suddenly, her two hands joined and pressed against her breast as if a +heavy burden were weighing her down and almost suffocating her. She +would then jump up, rush across the room in her bare feet, and, +opening the window wide, would stand there, trembling slightly, until +at last the pure fresh air calmed her. She was continually surprised +at this great change in herself, as if the knowledge of joys and +griefs hitherto unknown had been revealed to her in the enchantment of +dreams, and that her eyes had been opened to natural beauties which +surrounded her. + +What--was it really true that the unseen lilacs and laburnums of the +Bishop's garden had so sweet an odour that she could no longer breathe +it without a flush of colour mounting to her cheeks? Never before had +she perceived this warmth of perfume which now touched her as if with +a living breath. + +And again, why had she never remarked in preceding years a great +Japanese Paulownia in blossom, which looked like an immense violet +bouquet as it appeared between two elm-trees in the garden of the +Voincourts? This year, as soon as she looked at it, her eyes grew +moist, so much was she affected by the delicate tints of the pale +purple flowers. She also fancied that the Chevrotte had never +chattered so gaily over the pebbles among the willows on its banks. +The river certainly talked; she listened to its vague words, +constantly repeated, which filled her heart with trouble. Was it, +then, no longer the field of other days, that everything in it so +astonished her and affected her senses in so unusual a way? Or, +rather, was not she herself so changed that, for the first time, she +appreciated the beauty of the coming into life of trees and plants? + +But the Cathedral at her right, the enormous mass which obstructed the +sky, surprised her yet more. Each morning she seemed to see it for the +first time; she made constant discoveries in it, and was delighted to +think that these old stones lived and had lived like herself. She did +not reason at all on the subject, she had very little knowledge, but +she gave herself up to the mystic flight of the giant, whose coming +into existence had demanded three centuries of time, and where were +placed one above the other the faith and the belief of generations. At +the foundation, it was kneeling as if crushed by prayer, with the +Romanesque chapels of the nave, and with the round arched windows, +plain, unornamented, except by slender columns under the archivolts. +Then it seemed to rise, lifting its face and hands towards heaven, +with the pointed windows of its nave, built eighty years later; high, +delicate windows, divided by mullions on which were broken bows and +roses. Then again it sprung from the earth as if in ecstasy, erect, +with the piers and flying buttresses of the choir finished and +ornamented two centuries after in the fullest flamboyant Gothic, +charged with its bell-turrets, spires, and pinnacles. A balustrade had +been added, ornamented with trefoils, bordering the terrace on the +chapels of the apse. Gargoyles at the foot of the flying buttresses +carried off the water from the roofs. The top was also decorated with +flowery emblems. The whole edifice seemed to burst into blossom in +proportion as it approached the sky in a continual upward flight, as +if, relieved at being delivered from the ancient sacerdotal terror, it +was about to lose itself in the bosom of a God of pardon and of love. +It seemed to have a physical sensation which permeated it, made it +light and happy, like a sacred hymn it had just heard sung, very pure +and holy, as it passed into the upper air. + +Moreover, the Cathedral was alive. Hundreds of swallows had +constructed their nests under the borders of trefoil, and even in the +hollows of the bell-turrets and the pinnacles, and they were +continually brushing their wings against the flying buttresses and the +piers which they inhabited. There were also the wood-pigeons of the +elms in the Bishop's garden, who held themselves up proudly on the +borders of the terraces, going slowly, as if walking merely to show +themselves off. Sometimes, half lost in the blue sky, looking scarcely +larger than a fly, a crow alighted on the point of a spire to smooth +its wings. The old stones themselves were animated by the quiet +working of the roots of a whole flora of plants, the lichens and the +grasses, which pushed themselves through the openings in the walls. On +very stormy days the entire apse seemed to awake and to grumble under +the noise of the rain as it beat against the leaden tiles of the roof, +running off by the gutters of the cornices and rolling from story to +story with the clamour of an overflowing torrent. Even the terrible +winds of October and of March gave to it a soul, a double voice of +anger and of supplication, as they whistled through its forests of +gables and arcades of roseate ornaments and of little columns. The sun +also filled it with life from the changing play of its rays; from the +early morning, which rejuvenated it with a delicate gaiety, even to +the evening, when, under the slightly lengthened-out shadows, it +basked in the unknown. + +And it had its interior existence. The ceremonies with which it was +ever vibrating, the constant swinging of its bells, the music of the +organ, and the chanting of the priests, all these were like the +pulsation of its veins. There was always a living murmur in it: half- +lost sounds, like the faint echo of a Low Mass; the rustling of the +kneeling penitents, a slight, scarcely perceptible shivering, nothing +but the devout ardour of a prayer said without words and with closed +lips. + +Now, as the days grew longer, Angelique passed more and more time in +the morning and evening with her elbows on the balustrade of the +balcony, side by side with her great friend, the Cathedral. She loved +it the best at night, when she saw the enormous mass detach itself +like a huge block on the starry skies. The form of the building was +lost. It was with difficulty that she could even distinguish the +flying buttresses, which were thrown like bridges into the empty +space. It was, nevertheless, awake in the darkness, filled with a +dream of seven centuries, made grand by the multitudes who had hoped +or despaired before its altars. It was a continual watch, coming from +the infinite of the past, going to the eternity of the future; the +mysterious and terrifying wakefulness of a house where God Himself +never sleeps. And in the dark, motionless, living mass, her looks were +sure to seek the window of a chapel of the choir, on the level of the +bushes of the Clos-Marie, the only one which was lighted up, and which +seemed like an eye which was kept open all the night. Behind it, at +the corner of a pillar, was an ever-burning altar-lamp. In fact, it +was the same chapel which the abbots of old had given to Jean V +d'Hautecoeur, and to his descendants, with the right of being buried +there, in return for their liberality. Dedicated to Saint George, it +had a stained-glass window of the twelfth century, on which was +painted the legend of the saint. From the moment of the coming on of +twilight, this historic representation came out from the shade, +lighted up as if it were an apparition, and that was why Angelique was +fascinated, and loved this particular point, as she gazed at it with +her dreamy eyes. + +The background of the window was blue and the edges red. Upon this +sombre richness of colouring, the personages, whose flying draperies +allowed their limbs to be seen, stood out in relief in clear light on +the glass. Three scenes of the Legend, placed one above the other, +filled the space quite to the upper arch. At the bottom, the daughter +of the king, dressed in costly royal robes, on her way from the city +to be eaten by the dreadful monster, meets Saint George near the pond, +from which the head of the dragon already appears; and a streamer of +silk bears these words: "Good Knight, do not run any danger for me, as +you can neither help me nor deliver me, but will have to perish with +me." Then in the middle the combat takes place, and the saint, on +horseback, cuts the beast through and through. This is explained by +the following words: "George wielded so well his lance that he wounded +the enemy and threw him upon the earth." At last, at the top, the +Princess is seen leading back into the city the conquered dragon: +"George said, 'Tie your scarf around his neck, and do not be afraid of +anything, oh beautiful maiden, for when you have done so he will +follow you like a well-trained dog.'" + +When the window was new it must have been surmounted in the middle of +the arch by an ornamental design. But later, when the chapel belonged +to the Hautecoeurs, they replaced the original work by their family +coat of arms. And that was why, in the obscure nights, armorial +bearings of a more recent date shown out above the painted legend. +They were the old family arms of Hautecoeur, quartered with the well- +known shield of Jerusalem; the latter being argent, a cross potencee, +or, between four crosselettes of the same; and those of the family, +azure, a castle, or, on it a shield, sable, charged with a human +heart, argent, the whole between three fleurs-de-lys, or; the shield +was supported on the dexter and sinister sides by two wyverns, or; and +surmounted by the silver helmet with its blue feathers, embossed in +gold, placed frontwise, and closed by eleven bars, which belongs only +to Dukes, Marshals of France, titled Lords and heads of Sovereign +Corporations. And for motto were these words: "_Si Dieu volt, ie +vueil_." + +Little by little, from having seen him piercing the monster with his +lance, whilst the king's daughter raised her clasped hands in +supplication, Angelique became enamoured of Saint George. He was her +hero. At the distance where she was she could not well distinguish the +figures, and she looked at them as if in the aggrandisement of a +dream; the young girl was slight, was a blonde, and, in short, had a +face not unlike her own, while the saint was frank and noble looking, +with the beauty of an archangel. It was as if she herself had just +been saved, and she could have kissed his hands with gratitude. And to +this adventure, of which she dreamed confusedly, of a meeting on the +border of a lake and of being rescued from a great danger by a young +man more beautiful than the day, was added the recollection of her +excursion to the Chateau of Hautecoeur, and a calling up to view of +the feudal donjon, in its original state, peopled with the noble lords +of olden times. + +The arms glistened like the stars on summer nights; she knew them +well, she read them easily, with their sonorous words, for she was so +in the habit of embroidering heraldic symbols. There was Jean V, who +stopped from door to door in the town ravaged by the plague, and went +in to kiss the lips of the dying, and cured them by saying, "_Si Dieu +volt, ie vueil_." And Felician III, who, forewarned that a severe +illness prevented Philippe le Bel from going to Palestine, went there +in his place, barefooted and holding a candle in his hand, and for +that he had the right of quartering the arms of Jerusalem with his +own. Other and yet other histories came to her mind, especially those +of the ladies of Hautecoeur, the "happy dead," as they were called in +the Legend. In that family the women die young, in the midst of some +great happiness. Sometimes two or three generations would be spared, +then suddenly Death would appear, smiling, as with gentle hands he +carried away the daughter or the wife of a Hautecoeur, the oldest of +them being scarcely twenty years of age, at the moment when they were +at the height of earthly love and bliss. For instance, Laurette, +daughter of Raoul I, on the evening of her betrothal to her cousin +Richard, who lived in the castle, having seated herself at her window +in the Tower of David, saw him at his window in the Tower of +Charlemagne, and, thinking she heard him call her, as at that moment a +ray of moonlight seemed to throw a bridge between them, she walked +toward him. But when in the middle she made in her haste a false step +and overpassed the ray, she fell, and was crushed at the foot of the +tower. So since that day, each night when the moon is bright and +clear, she can be seen walking in the air around the Chateau, which is +bathed in white by the silent touch of her immense robe. Then Balbine, +wife of Herve VII, thought for six months that her husband had been +killed in the wars. But, unwilling to give up all hope, she watched +for him daily from the top of the donjon, and when at last she saw him +one morning on the highway, returning to his home, she ran down +quickly to meet him, but was so overcome with joy, that she fell dead +at the entrance of the castle. Even at this day, notwithstanding the +ruins, as soon as twilight falls, it is said she still descends the +steps, runs from story to story, glides through the corridors and the +rooms, and passes like a phantom through the gaping windows which open +into the desert void. All return. Isabeau, Gudule, Vonne, +Austreberthe, all these "happy dead," loved by the stern messenger, +who spared them from the vicissitudes of life by taking them suddenly +when, in early youth, they thought only of happiness. On certain +nights this white-robed band fill the house as if with a flight of +doves. To their number had lately been added the mother of the son of +Monseigneur, who was found lifeless on the floor by the cradle of her +infant, where, although ill, she dragged herself to die, in the +fullness of her delight at embracing him. These had haunted the +imagination of Angelique; she spoke of them as if they were facts of +recent occurrence, which might have happened the day before. She had +read the names of Laurette and of Balbine on old memorial tablets let +into the walls of the chapel. Then why should not she also die young +and very happy, as they had? The armouries would glisten as now, the +saint would come down from his place in the stained-glass window, and +she would be carried away to heaven on the sweet breath of a kiss. Why +not? + +The "Golden Legend" had taught her this: Was not it true that the +miracle is really the common law, and follows the natural course of +events? It exists, is active, works with an extreme facility on every +occasion, multiplies itself, spreads itself out, overflows even +uselessly, as if for the pleasure of contradicting the self-evident +rules of Nature. Its power seems to be on the same plane as that of +the Creator. Albrigan, King of Edeese, writes to Jesus, who replies to +him. Ignatius receives letters from the Blessed Virgin. In all places +the Mother and the Son appear, disguise themselves, and talk with an +air of smiling good-nature. When Stephen meets them they are very +familiar with him. All the virgins are wed to Jesus, and the martyrs +mount to heaven, where they are to be united to Mary. And as for the +angels and saints, they are the ordinary companions of men. They come, +they go, they pass through walls, they appear in dreams, they speak +from the height of clouds, they assist at births and deaths, they +support those who are tortured, they deliver those who are in prison, +and they go on dangerous missions. Following in their footsteps is an +inexhaustible efflorescence of prodigies. Sylvester binds the mouth of +a dragon with a thread. The earth rises to make a seat for Hilary, +whose companions wished to humiliate him. A precious stone falls into +the chalice of Saint Loup. A tree crushes the enemies of Saint Martin; +a dog lets loose a hare, and a great fire ceases to burn at his +command. Mary the Egyptian walks upon the sea; honey-bees fly from the +mouth of Ambrosius at his birth. Continually saints cure diseases of +the eye, withered limbs, paralysis, leprosy, and especially the +plague. There is no disease that resists the sign of the Cross. In a +crowd, the suffering and the feeble are placed together, that they may +be cured in a mass, as if by a thunderbolt. Death itself is conquered, +and resurrections are so frequent that they become quite an everyday +affair. And when the saints themselves are dead the wonders do not +cease, but are redoubled, and are like perennial flowers which spring +from their tombs. It is said that from the head and the feet of +Nicholas flowed two fountains of oil which cured every ill. When the +tomb of Saint Cecilia was opened an odour of roses came up from her +coffin. That of Dorothea was filled with manna. All the bones of +virgins and of martyrs performed marvels: they confounded liars, they +forced robbers to give back their stolen goods, they granted the +prayers of childless wives, they brought the dying back to life. +Nothing was impossible for them; in fact the Invisible reigned, and +the only law was the caprice of the supernatural. In the temples the +sorcerers mix themselves up with the popular idea, and scythes cut the +grass without being held, brass serpents move, and one hears bronze +statues laugh and wolves sing. Immediately the saints reply and +overwhelm them. The Host is changed into living food, sacred Christian +images shed drops of blood, sticks set upright in the ground blossom +into flower, springs of pure water appear in dry places, warm loaves +of bread multiply themselves at the feet of the needy, a tree bows +down before some holy person, and so on. Then, again, decapitated +heads speak, broken chalices mend themselves, the rain turns aside +from a church to submerge a neighbouring palace, the robes of hermits +never wear out, but renew themselves at each season like the skin of a +beast. In Armenia at one time the persecutors threw into the sea the +leaden coffins of five martyrs, and the one containing the body of +Saint Bartholomew the Apostle took the lead, and the four others +accompanied it as a guard of honour. So, all together, in regular +order, like a fine squadron, they floated slowly along, urged by the +breeze, through the whole length of the sea, until they reached the +shores of Sicily. + +Angelique was a firm believer in miracles. In her ignorance she lived +surrounded by wonders. The rising of the stars, or the opening of a +violet; each fact was a surprise to her. It would have appeared to her +simply ridiculous to have imagined the world so mechanical as to be +governed by fixed laws. There were so many things far beyond her +comprehension, she felt herself so weak and helpless in the midst of +forces whose power it was impossible to measure, that she would not +even have suspected they existed, had it not been for the great +questioning breath which at times passed over her face. So, trusting, +and as thoroughly Christian as if belonging to the primitive Church, +spiritually fed by her readings from the "Golden Legend," she gave +herself up entirely into the hands of God, with only the spot of +original sin to be cleansed from her soul. She had no liberty of +action or freedom of will; God alone could secure her salvation by +giving her the gift of His grace. That grace had been already +manifested by bringing her to the hospitable roof of the Huberts, +where, under the shadow of the Cathedral, she could lead a life of +submission, of purity, and of faith. She often heard within her soul +the grumblings of heredity tendency to evil, and asked herself what +would have become of her had she been left on her native soil. Without +doubt she would have been bad; while here, in this blessed corner of +the earth, she had grown up free from temptation, strong and healthy. +Was it not grace that had given her this home, where she was +surrounded by such charming histories she had so easily committed to +memory, where she had learned such perfect faith in the present and +hope in the future, and where the invisible and unknown, or the +miracles of ages, seemed natural to her, and quite on a level with her +daily life? It had armed her for all combats, as heretofore it had +armed the martyrs. And she created an imaginary experience for herself +almost unknowingly. It was, in fact, the inevitable result of a mind +overcharged and excited by fables; it was increased by her ignorance +of the life within and about her, as well as from her loneliness. She +had not had many companions, so all desires went from her only to +return to her. + +Sometimes she was in such a peculiar state that she would put her +hands over her face, as if doubting her own identity. Was she herself +only an illusion, and would she suddenly disappear some day and vanish +into nothingness? Who would tell her the truth? + +One evening in the following May, on this same balcony where she had +spent so much time in vague dreams, she suddenly broke into tears. She +was not low-spirited in the least, but it seemed to her as if her +anxiety arose from a vain expectation of a visit from someone. Yet who +was there to come? It was very dark; the Clos-Marie marked itself out +like a great black spot under the sky filled with stars, and she could +but vaguely distinguish the heavy masses of the old elm-trees of the +Bishop's garden, and of the park of the Hotel Voincourt. Alone the +window of the chapel sent out a little light. If no one were to come, +why did her heart beat so rapidly? It was nothing new, this feeling of +waiting, or of hope, but it was dated from the long ago, from her +early youth; it was like a desire, a looking forward for something +which had grown with her growth, and ended in this feverish anxiety of +her seventeen years. Nothing would have surprised her, as for weeks +she had heard the sound of voices in this mysterious corner, peopled +by her imagination. The "Golden Legend" had left there its +supernatural world of saints and martyrs, and the miracle was all +ready to appear there. She understood well that everything was +animated, that the voices came from objects hitherto silent; that the +leaves of the trees, the waters of the Chevrotte, and the stones of +the Cathedral spoke to her. But what was it that all these whisperings +from the Invisible wished to explain? What did these unknown forces +above and around her wish to do with her as they floated in the air? +She kept her eyes fixed upon the darkness, as if she were at an +appointed meeting with she knew not whom, and she waited, still +waited, until she was overcome with sleep, whilst it seemed to her as +if some supernatural power were deciding her destiny, irrespective of +her will or wish. + +For four evenings Angelique was nervous, and wept a great deal in the +darkness. She remained in her usual place and was patient. The +atmosphere seemed to envelope her, and as it increased in density it +oppressed her more and more, as if the horizon itself had become +smaller and was shutting her in. Everything weighed upon her heart. +Now there was a dull murmuring of voices in her brain; yet she was not +able to hear them clearly, or to distinguish their meaning. It was as +if Nature itself had taken possession of her, and the earth, with the +vast heavens above it, had penetrated into her being. At the least +sound her hands burned and her eyes tried to pierce the darkness. Was +the wonderful event about to take place, the prodigy she awaited? No, +there was nothing yet. It was probably merely the beating of the wings +of a night bird. And she listened again, attentively, until she could +distinguish the difference of sound between the leaves of the elms and +the willows. At least twenty times she trembled violently when a +little stone rolled in the rivulet, or a prowling animal jumped over +the wall. She leaned forward; but there was nothing--still nothing. + +At last, after some days, when at night a warmer darkness fell from +the sky where no moon was visible, a change began. She felt it, but it +was so slight, so almost imperceptible, she feared that she might have +been mistaken in the little sound she heard, which seemed unlike the +usual noises she knew so well. She held her breath, as the sound +seemed very long in returning. At last it came again, louder than +before, but equally confused. She would have said it came from a great +distance, that it was a scarcely-defined step, and that the trembling +of the air announced the approach of something out of sight and out of +hearing. That which she was expecting came slowly from the invisible +slight movement of what surrounded her. Little by little it disengaged +itself from her dream, like a realisation of the vague longings of her +youth. Was it the Saint George of the chapel window, who had come down +from his place and was walking on the grass in silence towards her? +Just then, by chance, the altar-light was dimmed, so that she could +not distinguish the faintest outline of the figures on the painted +glass, but all seemed like a blue cloud of vapoury mist. That was all +she heard or learned at that time of the mystery. + +But on the morrow, at the same hour, by a like obscurity, the noise +increased and approached a little nearer. It was certainly the sound +of steps, of real steps, which walked upon the earth. They would stop +for a moment, then recommence here and there, moving up and down, +without her being able to say precisely where they were. Perhaps they +came from the garden of the Voincourts, where some night pedestrian +was lingering under the trees. Or it might be, rather, that they were +in the tufted masses of the great lilac-bushes of the park of the +Bishop, whose strong perfume made her almost ill. She might do her +best to try to penetrate the darkness, it was only by her hearing that +she was forewarned of the coming events, aided a little by her sense +of smell, as the perfume of the flowers was increased as if a breath +were mingled with it. And so for several nights the steps resounded +under the balcony, and she listened as they came nearer, until they +reached the walls under her feet. There they stopped, and a long +silence followed, until she seemed almost to lose consciousness in +this slow embrace of something of which she was ignorant. + +Not long after, she saw one evening the little crescent of the new +moon appear among the stars. But it soon disappeared behind the brow +of the Cathedral, like a bright, living eye that the lid re-covers. +She followed it with regret, and at each nightfall she awaited its +appearance, watched its growth, and was impatient for this torch which +would ere long light up the invisible. In fact, little by little, the +Clos-Marie came out from the obscurity, with the ruins of its old +mill, its clusters of trees, and its rapid little river. And then, in +the light, creation continued. That which came from a vision ended in +being embodied. For at first she only perceived that a dim shadow was +moving under the moonlight. What was it, then? A branch moved to and +fro by the wind? Or was it a large bat in constant motion? There were +moments when everything disappeared, and the field slept in so deathly +a stillness that she thought her eyes had deceived her. Soon there was +no longer any doubt possible, for a dark object had certainly just +crossed the open space and had glided from one willow-tree to another. +It appeared, then disappeared, without her being able exactly to +define it. + +One evening she thought she distinguished the dim outline of two +shoulders, and at once she turned her eyes towards the chapel window. +It had a greyish tint, as if empty, for the moon shining directly upon +it had deadened the light within. At that moment she noticed that the +living shadow grew larger, as it approached continually nearer and +nearer, walking in the grass at the side of the church. In proportion +as she realised it was a fact that someone was there, she was overcome +by an indefinable sensation, a nervous feeling that one has on being +looked at by mysterious unseen eyes. + +Certainly someone was there under the trees who was regarding her +fixedly. She had on her hands and face, as it were, a physical +impression of those long, ardent, yet timid looks; but she did not +withdraw herself from them, because she knew they were pure, and came +from the enchanted world of which she had read in the "Golden Legend"; +and, in the certainty of a promised happiness, her first anxiety was +quickly changed into a delicious tranquillity. + +One night, suddenly, on the ground whitened by the moon's rays, the +shadow designed itself plainly and clearly. It was indeed that of a +man whom she could not see, as he was hidden by the willows. As he did +not move, she was able to look for a long time at his shadow. + +From that moment Angelique had a secret. Her bare, whitewashed chamber +was filled with it. She remained there for hours lying on her great +bed--where she seemed lost, she was so little--her eyes closed, but +not asleep, and seeing continually before her, in her waking dreams, +this motionless shadow upon the earth. When she re-opened her eyes at +dawn, her looks wandered from the enormous wardrobe to the odd carved +chest, from the porcelain stove to the little toilet-table, as if +surprised at not seeing there the mysterious silhouette, which she +could have so easily and precisely traced from memory. In her sleep +she had seen it gliding among the pale heather-blossoms on her +curtains. In her dreams, as in her waking hours, her mind was filled +with it. It was a companion shadow to her own. She had thus a double +being, although she was alone with her fancies. + +This secret she confided to no one, not even to Hubertine, to whom, +until now, she had always told even her thoughts. When the latter, +surprised at her gaiety, questioned her, she blushed deeply as she +replied that the early spring had made her very happy. From morning to +evening she hummed little snatches of song, like a bee intoxicated by +the heat of the sun's rays. Never before had the chasubles she +embroidered been so resplendent with silk and gold. The Huberts smiled +as they watched her, thinking simply that this exuberance of spirits +came from her state of perfect health. As the day waned she grew more +excited, she sang at the rising of the moon, and as soon as the hour +arrived she hurried to her balcony, and waited for the shadow to +appear. During all the first quarters of the moon she found it exact +at each rendezvous, erect and silent. But that was all. What was the +cause of it? Why was it there? Was it, indeed, only a shadow? Was not +it, perhaps, the saint who had left his window, or the angel who had +formerly loved Saint Cecilia, and who had now come to love her in her +turn? Although she was not vain, these thoughts made her proud, and +were as sweet to her as an invisible caress. Then she grew impatient +to know more, and her watching recommenced. + +The moon, at its full, lighted up the Clos-Marie. When it was at its +zenith, the trees, under the white rays which fell straight upon them +in perpendicular lines, cast no more shadows, but were like running +fountains of silent brightness. The whole garden was bathed and filled +with a luminous wave as limpid as crystal, and the brilliancy of it +was so penetrating that everything was clearly seen, even to the fine +cutting of the willow-leaves. The slightest possible trembling of air +seemed to wrinkle this lake of rays, sleeping in the universal peace +among the grand elm-trees of the neighbouring garden and the gigantic +brow of the Cathedral. + +Two more evenings had passed like this, when, on the third night, as +Angelique was leaning on her elbows and looking out, her heart seemed +to receive a sudden shock. There, in the clear light, she saw him +standing before her and looking at her. His shadow, like that of the +trees, had disappeared under his feet, and he alone was there, +distinctly seen. At this distance she saw--as if it were full day-- +that he was tall, slight, a blonde, and apparently about twenty years +of age. He resembled either a Saint George or a superb picture of +Christ, with his curly hair, his thin beard, his straight nose, rather +large, and his proudly-smiling black eyes. And she recognised him +perfectly; never had she seen another like him; it was he, her hero, +and he was exactly as she expected to find him. The wonder was at last +accomplished; the slow creation of the invisible had perfected itself +in this living apparition, and he came out from the unknown, from the +movement of things, from murmuring voices, from the action of the +night, from all that had enveloped her, until she almost fainted into +unconsciousness. She also saw him as if he were lifted above the +earth, so supernatural appeared to be his coming, whilst the +miraculous seemed to surround him on every side as it floated over the +mysterious moon-lake. He had as his escort the entire people of the +Legend--the saints whose staffs blossomed, the virgins whose wounds +shed milk--and the stars seemed to pale before this white group of +perfection. + +Angelique continued to look at him. He raised his arms, and held them +out, wide open. She was not at all afraid, but smiled sweetly. + + + + CHAPTER VI + +It was a great affair for the whole household when, every three +months, Hubertine prepared the "lye" for the wash. A woman was hired +to aid them, the Mother Gabet, as she was called, and for four days +all embroidery was laid aside, while Angelique took her part in the +unusual work, making of it a perfect amusement, as she soaped and +rinsed the clothes in the clean water of the Chevrotte. The linen when +taken from the ashes was wheeled to the Clos-Marie, through the little +gate of communication in the garden. There the days were spent in the +open air and the sunshine. + +"I will do the washing this time, mother, for it is the greatest of +delights to me." + +And gaily laughing, with her sleeves drawn up above her elbows, +flourishing the beetle, Angelique struck the clothes most heartily in +the pleasure of such healthy exercise. It was hard work, but she +thoroughly enjoyed it, and only stopped occasionally to say a few +words or to show her shiny face covered with foam. + +"Look, mother! This makes my arms strong. It does me a world of good." + +The Chevrotte crossed the field diagonally, at first drowsily, then +its stream became very rapid as it was thrown in great bubbles over a +pebbly descent. It came from the garden of the Bishop, through a +species of floodgate left at the foot of the wall, and at the other +end it disappeared under an arched vault at the corner of the Hotel +Voincourt, where it was swallowed up in the earth, to reappear two +hundred yards farther on, as it passed along the whole length of the +Rue Basse to the Ligneul, into which it emptied itself. Therefore it +was very necessary to watch the linen constantly, for, run as fast as +possible, every piece that was once let go was almost inevitably lost. + +"Mother, wait, wait a little! I will put this heavy stone on the +napkins. We shall then see if the river can carry them away. The +little thief!" + +She placed the stone firmly, then returned to draw another from the +old, tumble-down mill, enchanted to move about and to fatigue herself; +and, although she severely bruised her finger, she merely moistened it +a little, saying, "Oh! that is nothing." + +During the day the poor people who sheltered themselves in the ruins +went out to ask for charity from the passers-by on the highways. So +the Clos was quite deserted. It was a delicious, fresh solitude, with +its clusters of pale-green willows, its high poplar-trees, and +especially its verdure, its overflowing of deep-rooted wild herbs and +grasses, so high that they came up to one's shoulders. A quivering +silence came from the two neighbouring parks, whose great trees barred +the horizon. After three o'clock in the afternoon the shadow of the +Cathedral was lengthened out with a calm sweetness and a perfume of +evaporated incense. + +Angelique continued to beat the linen harder still, with all the force +of her well-shaped white arms. + +"Oh, mother dear! You can have no idea how hungry I shall be this +evening! . . . Ah! you know that you have promised to give me a good +strawberry-cake." + +On the day of the rinsing, Angelique was quite alone. The _mere_ +Gabet, suffering from a sudden, severe attack of sciatica, had not +been able to come as usual, and Hubertine was kept at home by other +household cares. + +Kneeling in her little box half filled with straw, the young girl took +the pieces one by one, shook them for a long time in the swiftly- +rolling stream, until the water was no longer dimmed, but had become +as clear as crystal. She did not hurry at all, for since the morning +she had been tormented by a great curiosity, having seen, to her +astonishment, an old workman in a white blouse, who was putting up a +light scaffolding before the window of the Chapel Hautecoeur. Could it +be that they were about to repair the stained-glass panes? There was, +it must be confessed, great need of doing so. Several pieces were +wanting in the figure of Saint George, and in other places, where in +the course of centuries panes that had been broken had been replaced +by ordinary glass. Still, all this was irritating to her. She was so +accustomed to the gaps of the saint who was piercing the dragon with +his sword, and of the royal princess as she led the conquered beast +along with her scarf, that she already mourned as if one had the +intention of mutilating them. It was sacrilege to think of changing +such old, venerable things. But when she returned to the field after +her lunch, all her angry feelings passed away immediately; for a +second workman was upon the staging, a young man this time, who also +wore a white blouse. And she recognised him! It was he! Her hero! + +Gaily, without any embarrassment, Angelique resumed her place on her +knees on the straw of her box. Then, with her wrists bare, she put her +hands in the deep, clear water, and recommenced shaking the linen back +and forth. + +Yes, it was he--tall, slight, a blonde, with his fine beard and his +hair curled like that of a god, his complexion as fresh as when she +had first seen him under the white shadow of the moonlight. Since it +was he, there was nothing to be feared for the window; were he to +touch it, he would only embellish it. And it was no disappointment to +her whatever to find him in this blouse, a workman like herself, a +painter on glass, no doubt. On the contrary, this fact made her smile, +so absolutely certain was she of the eventual fulfillment of her dream +of royal fortune. Now, it was simply an appearance, a beginning. What +good would it do her to know who he was, from whence he came, or +whither he was going? Some morning he would prove to be that which she +expected him to be. A shower of gold would stream from the roof of the +Cathedral, a triumphal march would break forth in the distant +rumblings of the organ, and all would come true. She did not stay to +ask herself how he could always be there, day and night. Yet it was +evident either that he must live in one of the neighbouring houses, or +he must pass by the lane des Guerdaches, which ran by the side of the +Bishop's park to the Rue Magloire. + +Then a charming hour passed by. She bent forward, she rinsed her +linen, her face almost touching the fresh water; but each time she +took a different piece she raised her head, and cast towards the +church a look, in which from the agitation of her heart, was a little +good-natured malice. And he, upon the scaffolding, with an air of +being closely occupied in examining the state of the window, turned +towards her, glancing at her sideways, and evidently much disturbed +whenever she surprised him doing so. It was astonishing how quickly he +blushed, how dark red his face became. At the slightest emotion, +whether of anger or interest, all the blood in his veins seemed to +mount to his face. He had flashing eyes, which showed will; yet he was +so diffident, that, when he knew he was being criticised, he was +embarrassed as a little child, did not seem to know what to do with +his hands, and stammered out his orders to the old man who accompanied +him. + +As for Angelique, that which delighted her most, as she refreshed her +arms in this turbulent water, was to picture him innocent like +herself, ignorant of the world, and with an equally intense desire to +have a taste of life. There was no need of his telling to others who +he was, for had not invisible messengers and unseen lips made known to +her that he was to be her own? She looked once more, just as he was +turning his head; and so the minutes passed, and it was delicious. + +Suddenly she saw that he jumped from the staging, then that he walked +backwards quite a distance through the grass, as if to take a certain +position from which he could examine the window more easily. But she +could not help smiling, so evident was it that he simply wished to +approach her. He had made a firm decision, like a man who risks +everything, and now it was touching as well as comical to see that he +remained standing a few steps from her, his back towards her, not +daring to move, fearing that he had been too hasty in coming as far as +he had done. For a moment she thought he would go back again to the +chapel-window as he had come from it, without paying any attention to +her. However, becoming desperate, at last he turned, and as at that +moment she was glancing in his direction, their eyes met, and they +remained gazing fixedly at each other. They were both deeply confused; +they lost their self-possession, and might never have been able to +regain it, had not a dramatic incident aroused them. + +"Oh dear! Oh dear!" exclaimed the young girl, in distress. + +In her excitement, a dressing-sacque, which she had been rinsing +unconsciously, had just escaped her, and the stream was fast bearing +it away. Yet another minute and it would disappear round the corner of +the wall of the Voincourt park, under the arched vault through which +the Chevrotte passed. + +There were several seconds of anxious waiting. He saw at once what had +happened, and rushed forward. But the current, leaping over the +pebbles, carried this sacque, which seemed possessed, as it went +along, much more rapidly than he. He stooped, thinking he had caught +it, but took up only a handful of soapy foam. Twice he failed. The +third time he almost fell. Then, quite vexed, with a brave look as if +doing something at the peril of his life, he went into the water, and +seized the garment just as it was about being drawn under the ground. + +Angelique, who until now had followed the rescue anxiously, quite +upset, as if threatened by a great misfortune, was so relieved that +she had an intense desire to laugh. This feeling was partly nervous, +it is true, but not entirely so. For was not this the adventure of +which she had so often dreamed? This meeting on the border of a lake; +the terrible danger from which she was to be saved by a young man, +more beautiful than the day? Saint George, the tribune, the warrior! +These were simply united in one, and he was this painter of stained +glass, this young workman in his white blouse! When she saw him coming +back, his feet wet through and through, as he held the dripping +camisole awkwardly in his hand, realising the ridiculous side of the +energy he had employed in saving it from the waves, she was obliged to +bite her tongue to check the outburst of gaiety which seemed almost to +choke her. + +He forgot himself as he looked at her. She was like a most adorable +child in this restrained mirth with which all her youth seemed to +vibrate. Splashed with water, her arms almost chilled by the stream, +she seemed to send forth from herself the purity and clearness of +these living springs which rushed from the mossy woods. She was an +impersonation of health, joy, and freshness, in the full sunlight. One +could easily fancy that she might be a careful housekeeper and a queen +withal as she was there, in her working dress, with her slender waist, +her regal neck, her oval face, such as one reads of in fairy-tales. +And he did not know how to give her back the linen, he found her +exquisite, so perfect a representation of the beauty of the art he +loved. It enraged him, in spite of himself, that he should have the +air of an idiot, as he plainly saw the effort she made not to laugh. +But he was forced to do something, so at last he gave her back the +sacque. + +Then Angelique realised that if she were to open her mouth and try to +thank him, she would shout. Poor fellow! She sympathised with him and +pitied him. But it was irresistible; she was happy, and needed to give +expression to it; she must yield to the gaiety with which her heart +overflowed. It was such lovely weather, and all life was so beautiful! + +At last she thought she might speak, wishing simply to say: "Thank +you, Monsieur." + +But the wish to laugh had returned, and made her stammer, interrupting +her at each word. It was a loud, cheery laugh, a sonorous outpouring +of pearly notes, which sang sweetly to the crystalline accompaniment +of the Chevrotte. + +The young man was so disconcerted that he could find nothing to say. +His usually pale face had become very red, the timid, childlike +expression of his eyes had changed into a fiery one, like that of an +eagle, and he moved away quickly. He disappeared with the old workman, +and even then she continued to laugh as she bent over the water, again +splashing herself as she shook the clothes hither and thither, +rejoicing in the brightness of the happy day. + +On the morrow he came an hour earlier. But at five o'clock in the +morning the linen, which had been dripping all night, was spread out +on the grass. There was a brisk wind, which was excellent for drying. +But in order that the different articles need not be blown away, they +were kept in place by putting little pebbles on their four corners. +The whole wash was there, looking of a dazzling whiteness among the +green herbage, having a strong odour of plants about it, and making +the meadow as if it had suddenly blossomed out into a snowy covering +of daisies. + +When Angelique came to look at it after breakfast, she was distressed, +for so strong had become the gusts of wind that all threatened to be +carried away. Already a sheet had started, and several napkins had +gone to fasten themselves to the branches of a willow. She fortunately +caught them, but then the handkerchiefs began to fly. There was no one +to help her; she was so frightened that she lost all her presence of +mind. When she tried to spread out the sheet again, she had a regular +battle, for she was quite lost in it, as it covered her with a great +crackling sound. + +Through all the noise of the wind she heard a voice saying, +"Mademoiselle, do you wish me to help you?" + +It was he, and immediately she cried to him, with no other thought +than her pre-occupation as a good housewife: + +"Of course I wish it. Come and help me, then. Take the end over there, +nearest to you. Hold it firm!" + +The sheet, which they stretched out with their strong arms, flapped +backwards and forwards like a sail. At last they succeeded in putting +it on the ground, and then placed upon it much heavier stones than +before. And now that, quite conquered, it sank quietly down, neither +of them thought of leaving their places, but remained on their knees +at the opposite corners, separated by this great piece of pure white +linen. + +She smiled, but this time without malice. It was a silent message of +thanks. He became by degrees a little bolder. + +"My name is Felicien." + +"And mine is Angelique." + +"I am a painter on glass, and have been charged to repair the stained- +glass window of the chapel here." + +"I live over there with my father and mother, and I am an embroiderer +of church vestments." + +The wind, which continued to be strong under the clear blue sky, +carried away their words, lashed them with its purifying breath in the +midst of the warm sunshine in which they were bathed. + +They spoke of things which they already knew, as if simply for the +pleasure of talking. + +"Is the window, then, to be replaced?" + +"No! oh no! it will be so well repaired that the new part cannot be +distinguished from the old. I love it quite as much as you do." + +"Oh! it is indeed true that I love it! I have already embroidered a +Saint George, but it was not so beautiful as this one." + +"Oh, not so beautiful! How can you say that? I have seen it, if it is +the Saint George on the chasuble which the Abbot Cornille wore last +Sunday. It is a marvellous thing." + +She blushed with pleasure, but quickly turned the conversation, as she +exclaimed: + +"Hurry and put another stone on the left corner of the sheet, or the +wind will carry it away from us again." + +He made all possible haste, weighed down the linen, which had been in +great commotion, like the wings of a great wounded bird trying its +best to fly away. Finding that this time it would probably keep its +place, the two young people rose up, and now Angelique went through +the narrow, green paths between the pieces of linen, glancing at each +one, while he followed her with an equally busy look, as if +preoccupied by the possible loss of a dish-towel or an apron. All this +seemed quite natural to them both. So she continued to chatter away +freely and artlessly, as she told of her daily life and explained her +tastes. + +"For my part, I always wish that everything should be in its place. In +the morning I am always awakened at the same hour by the striking of +the cuckoo-clock in the workroom; and whether it is scarcely daylight +or not, I dress myself as quickly as possible; my shoes and stockings +are here, my soap and all articles of toilette there--a true mania for +order. Yet you may well believe that I was not born so! Oh no! On the +contrary, I was the most careless person possible. Mother was obliged +to repeat to me the same words over and over again, that I might not +leave my things in every corner of the house, for I found it easier to +scatter them about. And now, when I am at work from morning to +evening, I can never do anything right if my chair is not in the same +place, directly opposite the light, Fortunately, I am neither right +nor left handed, but can use both hands equally well at embroidering, +which is a great help to me, for it is not everyone who can do that. +Then, I adore flowers, but I cannot keep a bouquet near me without +having a terrible headache. Violets alone I can bear, and that is +surprising. But their odour seems to calm me, and at the least +indisposition I have only need to smell them and I am at once cured." + +He was enraptured while listening to her prattle. He revelled in the +beautiful ring of her voice, which had an extremely penetrating, +prolonged charm; and he must have been peculiarly sensitive to this +human music, for the caressing inflection on certain words moistened +his eyelids. + +Suddenly returning to her household cares she exclaimed: + +"Oh, now the shirts will soon be dry!" + +Then, in the unconscious and simple need of making herself known, she +continued her confidences: + +"For colouring, the white is always beautiful, is it not? I tire at +times of blue, of red, and of all other shades; but white is a +constant joy, of which I am never weary. There is nothing in it to +trouble you; on the contrary, you would like to lose yourself in it. +We had a white cat, with yellow spots, which I painted white. It did +very well for a while, but it did not last long. Listen a minute. +Mother does not know it, but I keep all the waste bits of white silk, +and have a drawer full of them, for just nothing except the pleasure +of looking at them, and smoothing them over from time to time. And I +have another secret, but this is a very serious one! When I wake up, +there is every morning near my bed a great, white object, which gently +flies away." + +He did not smile, but appeared firmly to believe her. Was not all she +said, in her simple way, quite natural? A queen in the magnificence of +her courtly surroundings could not have conquered him so quickly. She +had, in the midst of this white linen on the green grass, a charming, +grand air, happy and supreme, which touched him to the heart, with an +ever-increasing power. He was completely subdued. She was everything +to him from this moment. He would follow her to the last day of his +life, in the worship of her light feet, her delicate hands, of her +whole being, adorable and perfect as a dream. She continued to walk +before him, with a short quick step, and he followed her closely, +suffocated by a thought of the happiness he scarcely dared hope might +come to him. + +But another sudden gust of wind came up, and there was a perfect +flight into the distance of cambric collars and cuffs, of neckerchiefs +and chemisettes of muslin, which, as they disappeared, seemed like a +flock of white birds knocked about by the tempest. + +Angelique began to run. + +"Oh dear! What shall I do? You will have to come again and help me. Oh +dear!" + +They both rushed forward. She caught a kerchief on the borders of the +Chevrotte. He had already saved two chemisettes which he found in the +midst of some high thistles. One by one the cuffs and the collars were +retaken. But in the course of their running at full speed, the flying +folds of her skirt had at several different times brushed against him, +and each time his face became suddenly red, and his heart beat +violently. In his turn, he touched her face accidentally, as she +jumped to recover the last fichu, which he had carelessly let go of. +She was startled and stood quietly, but breathing more quickly. She +joked no longer; her laugh sounded less clear, and she was not tempted +to ridicule this great awkward, but most attractive fellow. The +feminine nature so recently awakened in her softened her almost to +tears, and with the feeling of inexplicable tenderness, which +overpowered her, was mingled a half-fear. + +What was the matter with her that she was less gay, and that she was +so overcome by this delicious pang? When he held out the kerchief to +her, their hands, by chance, touched for a moment. They trembled, as +they looked at each other inquiringly. Then she drew back quickly, and +for several seconds seemed not to know what she should do under the +extraordinary circumstances which had just occurred. At last she +started. Gathering up all the smaller articles of linen in her arms, +and leaving the rest, she turned towards her home. + +Felicien then wished to speak . . . "Oh, I beg your pardon. . . . I +pray you to----" + +But the wind, which had greatly increased, cut off his words. In +despair he looked at her as she flew along, as if carried away by the +blast. She ran and ran, in and out, among the white sheets and +tablecloths, under the oblique, pale golden rays of the sun. Already +the shadow of the Cathedral seemed to envelop her, and she was on the +point of entering her own garden by the little gate which separated it +from the Clos, without having once glanced behind her. But on the +threshold she turned quickly, as if seized with a kind impulse, not +wishing that he should think she was angry, and confused, but smiling, +she called out: + +"Thank you. Thank you very much." + +Did she wish to say that she was grateful to him for having helped her +in recovering the linen? Or was it for something else? She +disappeared, and the gate was shut after her. + +And he remained alone in the middle of the field, under the great +regular gusts, which continued to rage, although the sky was still +clear and pure. The elms in the Bishop's garden rustled with a long, +billowy sound, and a loud voice seemed to clamour through the terraces +and the flying buttresses of the Cathedral. But he heard only the +light flapping of a little morning cap, tied to a branch of a lilac +bush, as if it were a bouquet, and which belonged to her. + +From that date, each time that Angelique opened her window she saw +Felicien over there in the Clos-Marie. He passed days in the field, +having the chapel window as an excuse for doing so, on which, however, +the work did not advance the least in the world. For hours he would +forget himself behind a cluster of bushes, where, stretched out on the +grass, he watched through the leaves. And it was the greatest of +pleasures to smile at each other every morning and evening. She was so +happy that she asked for nothing more. There would not be another +general washing for three months, so, until then, the little garden- +gate would seldom be open. But three months would pass very quickly, +and if they could see each other daily, was not that bliss enough? +What, indeed, could be more charming than to live in this way, +thinking during the day of the evening look, and during the night of +the glance of the early morrow? She existed only in the hope of that +desired moment; its joy filled her life. Moreover, what good would +there be in approaching each other and in talking together? Were they +not constantly becoming better acquainted without meeting? Although at +a distance, they understood each other perfectly; each penetrated into +the other's innermost thoughts with the closest intimacy. At last, +they became so filled one with the other that they could not close +their eyes without seeing before them, with an astonishing clearness +of detail, the image of their new friend; so, in reality, they were +never separated. + +It was a constant surprise to Angelique that she had unbosomed herself +at once to Felicien. At their first meeting she had confided in him, +had told him everything about her habits, her tastes, and the deepest +secrets of her heart. He, more silent, was called Felicien, and that +was all she knew. Perhaps it was quite right that it should be so; the +woman giving everything, and the man holding himself back as a +stranger. She had no premature curiosity. She continued to smile at +the thought of things which would certainly be realised. So for her, +that of which she was ignorant counted for nothing. The only important +fact in her mind was the intimacy between them, which united them, +little by little, apart from the world. She knew nothing about him, +yet she was so well acquainted with his nature that she could read his +thoughts in a simple look or smile. He, her hero, had come as she +always said he would. She had at once recognised him, and they loved +each other. + +So they enjoyed most thoroughly this true possession from a distance. +They were certainly encouraged by the new discoveries they made. She +had long, slender hands, roughened a little at the ends of the fingers +by her constant use of the needle, but he adored them. She noticed +that his feet were small, and was proud of the fact. Everything about +him flattered her; she was grateful to him for being so handsome; and +she was overcome with joy the evening that she found his beard to be +of a lighter shade than his hair, which fact gave a greater softness +to his smile. He went away transported when, one morning, as she +leaned over the balcony, he saw a little red spot on her pretty neck. +Their hearts being thus laid open, new treasures were daily found. +Certainly the proud and frank manner in which she opened her window +showed that, even in her ignorance as a little embroiderer, she had +the royal bearing of a princess. In the same way she knew that he was +good, from seeing how lightly he walked over the herbs and the grass. +Around them was a radiance of virtues and graces from the first hour +of their meeting. Each interview had its special charm. It seemed to +them as if their felicity in seeing each other could never be +exhausted. + +Nevertheless, Felicien soon showed certain signs of impatience, and he +no longer remained for hours concealed behind a bush in the immobility +of an absolute happiness. As soon as Angelique appeared at her window, +he was restless, and tried to approach her as he glided from willow to +willow. At length she was a little disturbed, fearing that someone +might see him. One day there was almost a quarrel, for he came even to +the wall of the house, so she was obliged to leave the balcony. It was +a great shock to him that she should be offended, and he showed in the +expression of his face so mute a prayer of submission that the next +day she pardoned him, and opened her window at the usual hour. + +But although expectation was delightful, it was not sufficient for +him, and he began again. Now he seemed to be everywhere at once: he +filled the Clos-Marie with his restlessness; he came out from behind +every tree; he appeared above every bunch of brambles. Like the wood- +pigeons of the great elms in the Bishop's garden, he seemed to have +his habitation between two branches in the environs. The Chevrotte was +an excuse for his passing entire days there, on its willowy banks, +bending over the stream, in which he seemed to be watching the +floating of the clouds. + +One day she saw that he had climbed up on the ruins of the old mill, +and was standing on the framework of a shed, looking happy to have +thus approached her a little, in his regret at not being able to fly +even so far as her shoulder. + +Another day she stifled a slight scream as she saw him far above her, +leaning on an ornamented balustrade of the Cathedral, on the roof of +the chapels of the choir, which formed a terrace. In what way could he +have reached this gallery, the door of which was always fastened, and +whose key no one had a right to touch but the beadle? Then again, a +little later on, how was it that she should find him up in the air +among the flying buttresses of the nave and the pinnacles of the +piers? From these heights he could look into every part of her +chamber, as the swallows who, flying from point to point among the +spires, saw everything that was therein, without her having the idea +of hiding herself from them. But a human eye was different, and from +that day she shut herself up more, and an ever-increasing trouble came +to her at the thought that her privacy was being intruded upon, and +that she was no longer alone in the atmosphere of adoration that +surrounded her. If she were really not impatient, why was it that her +heart beat so strongly, like the bell of the clock-tower on great +festivals? + +Three days passed without Angelique showing herself, so alarmed was +she by the increasing boldness of Felicien. She vowed in her mind that +she would never see him again, and wound herself up to such a degree +of resentment, that she thought she hated him. But he had given her +his feverishness. She could not keep still, and the slightest pretext +was enough for an excuse to leave the chasuble upon which she was at +work. + +So, having heard that _mere_ Gabet was ill in bed, in the most +profound poverty, she went to see her every morning. Her room was on +the Rue des Orfevres, only three doors away from the Huberts. She +would take her tea, sugar, and soup, then, when necessary, go to buy +her medicine at the druggist's on the Grand Rue. One day, as she +returned with her hands full of the little phials, she started at +seeing Felicien at the bedside of the old sick woman. He turned very +red, and slipped away awkwardly, after leaving a charitable offering. +The next day he came in as she was leaving, and she gave him her +place, very much displeased. Did he really intend to prevent her from +visiting the poor? + +In fact, she had been taken with one of her fits of charity, which +made her give all she owned that she might overwhelm those who had +nothing. At the idea of suffering, her whole soul melted into a +pitiful fraternity. She went often to the _pere_ Mascart's, a blind +paralytic on the Rue Basse, whom she was obliged to feed herself the +broth she carried him; then to the Chouteaux, a man and his wife, each +one over ninety years of age, who lived in a little hut on the Rue +Magloire, which she had furnished for them with articles taken from +the attic of her parents. Then there were others and others still whom +she saw among the wretched populace of the quarter, and whom she +helped to support from things that were about her, happy in being able +to surprise them and to see them brighten up for a little while. But +now, strange to say, wherever she went she encountered Felicien! Never +before had she seen so much of him; she who had avoided going to her +window for fear that he might be near. Her trouble increased, and at +last she was very angry. + +But the worst of all in this matter was that Angelique soon despaired +of her charity. This young man spoilt all her pleasure of giving. In +other days he might perhaps have been equally generous, but it was not +among the same people, not her own particular poor, of that she was +sure. And he must have watched her and followed her very closely to +know them all and to take them so regularly one after the other. + +Now, go when she might with a little basket of provisions to the +Chouteaux, there was always money on the table. One day, when she went +to _pere_ Mascart, who was constantly complaining that he had no +tobacco, she found him very rich, with a shining new louis d'or on his +table. Strangest of all, once when visiting _mere_ Gabet, the latter +gave her a hundred franc note to change, and with it she was enabled +to buy some high-priced medicines, of which the poor woman had long +been in need, but which she never hoped to obtain, for where could she +find money to pay for them? + +Angelique herself could not distribute much money, as she had none. It +was heart-breaking to her to realise her powerlessness, when he could +so easily empty his purse. She was, of course, happy that such a +windfall had come to the poor, but she felt as if she were greatly +diminished in her former self-estimation. She no longer had the same +happiness in giving, but was disturbed and sad that she had so little +to distribute, while he had so much. + +The young man, not understanding her feelings, thinking to conquer her +esteem by an increase of gifts, redoubled his charity, and thus daily +made hers seem less. + +Was not it exasperating to run against this fellow everywhere; to see +him give an ox wherever she offered an egg? In addition to all this, +she was obliged to hear his praises sung by all the needy whom he +visited: "a young man so good, so kind, and so well brought up." She +was a mere nothing now. They talked only of him, spreading out his +gifts as if to shame hers. Notwithstanding her firm determination to +forget him, she could not refrain from questioning them about him. +What had he left? What had he said? He was very handsome, was he not? +Tender and diffident as a woman! Perhaps he might even have spoken of +her! Ah, yes indeed! That was true, for he always talked of her. Then +she was very angry; yes, she certainly hated him, for at last she +realised that he weighed on her breast too heavily. + +But matters could not continue in this way for ever, a change must +take place; and one May evening, at a wondrously beautiful nightfall, +it came. It was at the home of the Lemballeuse, the family who lived +in the ruins of the mill. There were only women there; the old +grandmother, seamed with wrinkles but still active, her daughter, and +her grandchildren. Of the latter, Tiennette, the elder, was a large, +wild-looking girl, twenty years of age, and her two little sisters, +Rose and Jeanne, had already bold, fearless eyes, under their unkempt +mops of red hair. They all begged during the day on the highway and +along the moat, coming back at night, their feet worn out from fatigue +in their old shoes fastened with bits of string. Indeed, that very +evening Tiennette had been obliged to leave hers among the stones, and +had returned wounded and with bleeding ankles. Seated before their +door, in the midst of the high grass of the Clos-Marie, she drew out +the thorns from her flesh, whilst her mother and the two children +surrounded her and uttered lamentations. + +Just then Angelique arrived, hiding under her apron the bread which +she had brought them, as she did once every week. She had entered the +field by the little garden-gate, which she had left open behind her, +as she intended to go back as quickly as possible. But she stopped on +seeing all the family in tears. + +"What is the matter? Why are you in such distress?" + +"Ah, my good lady!" whined the mother Lemballeuse, "do not you see in +what a terrible state this great foolish girl has put herself? +To-morrow she will not be able to walk, so that will be a whole day +lost. She must have some shoes!" + +Rose and Jeanne, with their eyes snapping from under their tangled +hair, redoubled their sobs, as they cried out loudly-- + +"Yes, yes! She must have some shoes! She must have some shoes!" + +Tiennette, half lifting up her thin, dark face, looked round +furtively. Then, fiercely, without a word, she made one of her feet +bleed still more, maddened over a long splinter which she had just +drawn out by the aid of a pin, and which must have pained her +intensely. + +Angelique, quite touched by the scene, offered her the gift. + +"See! Here at least is some bread." + +"Oh, bread!" said the mother. "No doubt it is necessary to eat. But it +is not with bread that she will be able to walk again, of that I am +certain! And we were to go to the fair at Bligny, a fair where, every +year, she makes at least two francs. Oh, good heavens! What will +become of us if she cannot go there?" + +Pity and embarrassment rendered Angelique mute. She had exactly five +sous in her pocket. It surely was not with five sous that one could +buy a pair of shoes, even at an auction sale. As it had often done +before, her want of money now paralysed her. And that which +exasperated her still more and made her lose her self-control was that +at this moment, as she looked behind her, she saw Felicien, standing a +few feet from her in the darkening shadow. Without doubt he had heard +all that had been said; perhaps even he had been there for a great +while, for he always appeared to her in this way when least expected +without her ever knowing whence he came or whither he was going. + +She thought to herself, "He will give the shoes." + +Indeed, he had already come forward. The first stars were appearing in +the pale sky. A sweet, gentle quiet seemed to fall down from on high, +soothing to sleep the Clos-Marie, whose willows were lost in the dusk. +The Cathedral itself was only a great black bar in the West. + +"Yes, certainly, now he will offer to give the shoes." + +And at this probability she was really quite discouraged. Was he +always, then, to give everything? Could she never, even once, conquer +him? Never! Her heart beat so rapidly that it pained her. She wished +that she might be very rich, to show him that she, too, could make +others happy. + +But the Lemballeuse had seen the good gentleman. The mother had rushed +forward; the two little sisters moaned as they held out their hands +for alms, whilst the elder one, letting go of her wounded ankles, +looked at the new-comer inquiringly with her wild eyes. + +"Listen, my noisy children," said Felicien. Then, addressing the +mother, he continued, "You may go to the Grand Rue, at the corner of +the Rue Basse--" + +Angelique had understood immediately, for the shoemaker had his shop +there. She interrupted him quickly, and was so agitated that she +stammered her words at random. + +"But that is a useless thing to do! What would be the good of it? It +is much more simple--" + +Yet she could not find in her own mind the more simple thing she +desired. What could she do? What could she invent, so to be before him +in giving her charity? Never had it seemed to her possible she could +detest him as she did now. + +"You will say from me, that it is I who have sent you," continued +Felicien. "You will ask--" + +Again she interrupted him. The contest lasted a moment longer. She +repeated in an anxious way: + +"It is, indeed, much more simple; it is much easier--" + +Suddenly she was calm. She seated herself upon a stone, thoughtfully +examined her shoes, took them off, and then drew off her stockings, +saying: + +"Look! This is the best thing to do, after all! Why should you have +any trouble about the matter?" + +"Oh, my good young lady! God will reward you!" exclaimed the mother +Lemballeuse, as she turned over the shoes and found they were not only +excellent and strong, but almost new. "I will cut them a trifle on the +top, to make them a little larger--Tiennette, why do you not thank +her, stupid creature?" + +Tiennette snatched from the hands of Rose and Jeanne the stockings +they were coveting. She did not open her lips; she only gave one long, +fixed, hard look. + +But now Angelique realised that her feet were bare, and that Felicien +saw them. She blushed deeply, and knew not what to do. She dared not +move, for, were she to rise to get up, he would only see them all the +more. Then, frightened, she rose quickly, and without realising what +she was doing, began to run. In the grass her flying feet were very +white and small. The darkness of the evening had increased, and the +Clos-Marie was a lake of shadow between the great trees on one side +and the Cathedral on the other. And on the ground the only visible +light came from those same little feet, white and satiny as the wing +of a dove. + +Startled and afraid of the water, Angelique followed the bank of the +Chevrotte, that she might cross it on a plank which served as a +bridge. But Felicien had gone a shorter way through the brambles and +brushwood. Until now he had always been overcome by his timidity, and +he had turned redder than she as he saw her bare feet, pure and chaste +as herself. Now, in the overflow of his ignorant youth, passionately +fond of beauty and desirous for love, he was impatient to cry out and +tell her of the feeling which had entirely taken possession of him +since he had first seen her. But yet, when she brushed by him in her +flight, he could only stammer, with a trembling voice, the +acknowledgment so long delayed and which burnt his lips: + +"I love you." + +She stopped in surprise. For an instant she stood still, and, slightly +trembling, looked at him. Her anger and the hate she thought she had +for him all vanished at once, and melted into a most delicious +sentiment of astonishment. What had he said, what was the word he had +just pronounced, that she should be so overcome by it? She knew that +he loved her; yet when he said so, the sound of it in her ear +overwhelmed her with an inexplicable joy. It resounded so deeply +through her whole being, that her fears came back and were enlarged. +She never would dare reply to him; it was really more than she could +bear; she was oppressed. + +He, grown more bold, his heart touched and drawn nearer to hers by +their united deeds of charity, repeated: + +"I love you." + +And she, fearing the lover, began to run. That was surely the only way +to escape such a danger; yet it was also a happiness, it was all so +strange. The Chevrotte was gaily singing, and she plunged into it like +a startled fawn. Among its pebbles her feet still ran on, under the +chill of icy water. The garden-gate was at last reached, it closed, +and she disappeared. + + + + CHAPTER VII + +For two days Angelique was conscience-smitten. As soon as she was +alone, she sobbed as if she had done something wrong. And this +question, which she could not answer, came constantly to her mind: Had +she sinned in listening to this young man? Was she lost, like the +dreadful women in the Legend, who, having been tempted, had yielded to +the Devil? Was life to-day as it was centuries ago? The words, so +softly uttered, "I love you," still resounded with such a tumult in +her ears, and she was confused, yet pleased by them to such a degree, +that they must certainly have come from some terrible power hidden in +the depth of the invisible. But she knew not--in fact, how could she +have known anything in the ignorance and solitude in which she had +grown up? Her anguish was redoubled by this mysterious and +inexplicable struggle within her. + +Had she sinned in making the acquaintance of Felicien, and then in +keeping it a secret? She recalled to her mind, one by one, all the +details of her daily experience during the past few weeks; she argued +with her innocent scruples. + +What was sin, in short? Was it simply to meet--to talk--and afterwards +to tell a falsehood to one's parents? But that could not be the extent +of the evil. Then why was she so oppressed? Why, if not guilty, did +she suddenly seem to have become quite another person--as agitated as +if a new soul had been given her? Perhaps it was sin that had made her +so weak and uncomfortable. Her heart was full of vague, undefined +longings--so strange a medley of words, and also of acts, in the +future, that she was frightened by them, without in the least +understanding them. The blood mounted to her face, and exquisitely +coloured her cheeks, as she heard again the sweet, yet appalling +words, "I love you"; and she reasoned no longer, but sobbed again, +doubting evident facts, fearing the commission of a fault in the +beyond--in that which had neither name nor form. + +But that which especially distressed her now was that she had not made +a _confidante_ of Hubertine. Could she only have asked her what she +wished to know, no doubt the latter with a word would have explained +the whole mystery to her. Then it seemed to her as if the mere fact of +speaking to someone of her trouble would have cured her. But the +secret had become too weighty; to reveal it would be more than she +could bear, for the shame would be too great. She became quite artful +for the moment, affected an air of calmness, when in the depths of her +soul a tempest was raging. If asked why she was so pre-occupied, she +lifted her eyes with a look of surprise as she replied that she was +thinking of something. Seated before the working-frame, her hands +mechanically drawing the needle back and forth, very quiet to all +outward appearance, she was, from morning till evening, distracted by +one thought. To be loved! To be loved! And for herself, on her side, +was she in love? This was still an obscure question, to which, in her +inexperience, she found no answer. She repeated it so constantly that +at last it made her giddy, the words lost all their usual meaning, and +everything seemed to be in a whirl, which carried her away. With an +effort she recovered herself, and realised that, with needle in hand, +she was still embroidering with her accustomed application, although +mechanically, as if in a half-dream. Perhaps these strange symptoms +were a sign that she was about to have a severe illness. One evening +she had such an attack of shivering when she went to bed that she +thought she would never be able to recover from it. That idea was at +the same time both cruel and sweet. She suffered from it as if it were +too great a joy. Even the next day her heart beat as if it would +break, and her ears were filled with a singing sound, like the ringing +of a distant bell. What could it mean? Was she in love, or was she +about to die? Thinking thus, she smiled sweetly at Hubertine, who, in +the act of waxing her thread, was looking at her anxiously. + +Moreover, Angelique had made a vow that she would never again see +Felicien. She no longer ran the risk of meeting him among the brambles +and wild grasses in the Clos-Marie, and she had even given up her +daily visits to the poor. Her fear was intense lest, were they to find +themselves face to face, something terrible might come to pass. In her +resolution there was mingled, besides a feeling of penitence, a wish +to punish herself for some fault she might unintentionally have +committed. So, in her days of rigid humiliation, she condemned herself +not even to glance once through the window, so sure was she of seeing +on the banks of the Chevrotte the one whom she dreaded. But, after a +while, being sorely tempted, she looked out, and if it chanced that he +were not there, she was sad and low-spirited until the following day. + +One morning, when Hubert was arranging a dalmatic, a ring at the door- +bell obliged him to go downstairs. It must be a customer; no doubt an +order for some article, as Hubertine and Angelique heard the hum of +voices which came through the doorway at the head of the stairs, which +remained open. Then they looked up in great astonishment; for steps +were mounting, and the embroiderer was bringing someone with him to +the workroom, a most unusual occurrence. And the young girl was quite +overcome as she recognised Felicien. He was dressed simply, like a +journeyman artist, whose hands are white. Since she no longer went to +him he had come to her, after days of vain expectation and of anxious +uncertainty, during which he had constantly said to himself that she +did not yet love him, since she remained hidden from him. + +"Look, my dear child, here is something which will be of particular +interest to you," explained Hubert. "Monsieur wishes to give orders +for an exceptional piece of work. And, upon my word, that we might +talk of it at our ease, I preferred that he should come up here at +once. This is my daughter, sir, to whom you must show your drawing." + +Neither he nor Hubertine had the slightest suspicion that this was not +the first time the young people had met. They approached them only +from a sentiment of curiosity to see. But Felicien was, like +Angelique, almost stifled with emotion and timidity. As he unrolled +the design, his hands trembled, and he was obliged to speak very +slowly to hide the change in his voice. + +"It is to be a mitre for Monseigneur the Bishop. Yes, certain ladies +in the city who wished to make him this present charged me with the +drawing of the different parts, as well as with the superintendence of +its execution. I am a painter of stained glass, but I also occupy +myself a great deal with ancient art. You will see that I have simply +reconstituted a Gothic mitre." + +Angelique bent over the great sheet of parchment which he had spread +before her, and started slightly as she exclaimed: + +"Oh! it is Saint Agnes." + +It was indeed the youthful martyr of but thirteen years of age; the +naked virgin clothed with her hair, that had grown so long only her +little hands and feet were seen from under it, just as she was upon +the pillar at one of the doors of the cathedral; particularly, +however, as one found her in the interior of the church, in an old +wooden statue that formerly was painted, but was to-day a light fawn +colour, all gilded by age. She occupied the entire front of the mitre, +half floating, as she was carried towards heaven borne by the angels; +which below her, stretched out into the distance, was a fine delicate +landscape. The other sides and the lappets were enriched with lance- +shaped ornaments of an exquisite style. + +"These ladies," continued Felicien, "wish to make the present on the +occasion of the Procession of the Miracle, and naturally I thought it +my duty to choose Saint Agnes." + +"The idea was a most excellent one," interposed Hubert. + +And Hubertine added, in her turn: + +"Monseigneur will be deeply gratified." + +The so-called Procession of the Miracle, which takes place each year +on July 28, dates from the time of Jean V d'Hautecoeur, who instituted +it as a thanksgiving to God for the miraculous power He had given to +him and to his race to save Beaumont from the plague. According to the +legend, the Hautecoeurs are indebted for this remarkable gift to the +intervention of Saint Agnes, of whom they were the greatest admirers; +and since the most ancient time, it has been the custom on the +anniversary of her fete to take down the old statue of the saint and +carry it slowly in a solemn procession through the streets of the +town, in the pious belief that she still continues to disperse and +drive away all evils. + +"Ah," at last murmured Angelique, her eyes on the design, "the +Procession of the Miracle. But that will come in a few days, and we +shall not have time enough to finish it." + +The Huberts shook their heads. In truth, so delicate a piece of work +required the most minute care and attention. Yet Hubertine turned +towards her daughter as she said: + +"I could help you, my dear. I might attend to the ornaments, and then +you will only have the figure to do." + +Angelique continued to closely examine the figure of the saint, and +was deeply troubled. She said to herself, "No, no." She refused; she +would not give herself the pleasure of accepting. It would be +inexcusable on her part thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was +evident that Felicien was keeping something back. She was perfectly +sure that he was not poor, and that he wore a workman's dress simply +as a disguise; and this affected simplicity, all this history, told +only that he might approach her, put her on her guard, amused and +happy though she was, in reality, transfiguring him, seeing in him the +royal prince that he should be; so thoroughly did she live in the +absolute certainty of the entire realisation of her dream, sooner or +later. + +"No," she repeated in a half-whisper, "we should not have the needed +time." + +And without lifting her eyes she continued, as if speaking to herself: + +"For the saint, we could use neither the close embroidery nor the lace +openwork. It would not be worthy of her. It should be an embroidery in +gold, shaded by silk." + +"Exactly," said Felicien. "That is what I had already thought of, for +I knew that Mademoiselle had re-found the secret of making it. There +is still quite a pretty little fragment of it at the sacristy." + +Hubert was quite excited. + +"Yes, yes! it was made in the fifteenth century, and the work was done +by one of my far-off ancestresses. . . . Shaded gold! Ah, Monsieur, +there was never anything equal to that in the whole world. But, +unfortunately, it took too much time, it cost altogether too dear, +and, in addition, only a real artist ever succeeded in it. Think of +it; it is more than two hundred years since anyone has ever attempted +such embroidery. And if my daughter refuses, you will be obliged to +give it up entirely, for she is the only person who is qualified to +undertake it. I do not know of anyone else who has the delicacy of +fingers and the clearness of eye necessary for it." + +Hubertine, who, since they had spoken of the style of the work, +realised what a great undertaking it was, said, in a quiet, decided +tone: + +"It would be utterly impossible to do it in a fortnight. It would need +the patience and skill of a fairy to accomplish it." + +But Angelique, who had not ceased studying all the features of the +beautiful martyr, had ended by making a discovery which delighted her +beyond expression. Agnes resembled her. In designing from the old +statue, Felicien certainly thought of her, and this idea--that she was +in his mind, always present with him, that he saw her everywhere-- +softened her resolution to avoid him. At last she looked up; she +noticed how eager he was, and his eyes glistened with so earnest a +supplication that she was conquered. Still, with the intuitive half- +malice, the love of tormenting, this natural science which comes to +all young girls, even when they are entirely ignorant of life, she did +not wish to have the appearance of yielding too readily. + +"It is impossible," she repeated. "I could not do it for anyone." + +Felicien was in despair. He was sure he understood the hidden meaning +in her words. It was he whom she had refused, as well as the work. As +he was about to go out of the room, he said to Hubert: + +"As for the pay, you could have asked any price you wished. These +ladies gave me leave to offer as much as three thousand francs." + +The household of the Huberts was in no way a selfish one; yet so great +a sum startled each member of it. The husband and wife looked at each +other inquiringly. Was it not a pity to lose so advantageous an offer? + +"Three thousand francs," repeated Angelique, with her gentle voice; +"did you say three thousand francs, Monsieur?" + +And she, to whom money was nothing, since she had never known its +value, kept back a smile, a mocking smile, which scarcely drew the +corners of her mouth, rejoicing that she need not seem to yield to the +pleasure of seeing him, and glad to give him a false opinion of +herself. + +"Oh, Monsieur, if you can give three thousand francs for it, then I +accept. I would not do it for everyone, but from the moment that one +is willing to pay so well, why, that is different. If it is necessary, +I can work on it at night, as well as during the day." + +Hubert and Hubertine then objected, wishing to refuse in their turn, +for fear the fatigue might be too great for her. + +"No," she replied. "It is never wise to send away money that is +brought to you. You can depend upon me, Monsieur. Your mitre will be +ready the evening before the procession." + +Felicien left the design and bade them good-day, for he was greatly +disappointed, and he had no longer the courage to give any new +explanations in regard to the work, as an excuse for stopping longer. +What would he gain by doing so? It was certainly true that she did not +like him, for she had pretended not to recognise him, and had treated +him as she would any ordinary customer, whose money alone is good to +take. At first he was angry, as he accused her of being mean-spirited +and grasping. So much the better! It was ended between them, this +unspoken romance, and he would never think of her again. Then, as he +always did think of her, he at last excused her, for was she not +dependent upon her work to live, and ought she not to gain her bread? + +Two days later he was very unhappy, and he began to wander around the +house, distressed that he could not see her. She no longer went out to +walk. She did not even go to the balcony, or to the window, as before. +He was forced to acknowledge that if she cared not for him, if in +reality she was mercenary, in spite of all, his love for her increased +daily, as one loves when only twenty years of age, without reasoning, +following merely the drawing of one's heart, simply for the joy and +the grief of loving. + +One morning he caught a glimpse of her for a moment, and realised that +he could not give her up. Now she was his chosen one and no other. +Whatever she might be, bad or good, ugly or pretty, poor or rich, he +would give up his life rather than not be able to claim her. + +The third day his sufferings were so great that, notwithstanding all +his wise resolves, he returned to the house of the embroiderers. + +After having rung the bell, he was received as before, downstairs by +Hubert, who, on account of the want of clearness in his explanations +in regard to his visit, concluded the best thing to be done was to +allow him to go upstairs again. + +"My daughter, Monsieur, wishes to speak to you on certain points of +the work that I do not quite understand." + +Then Felicien stammered, "If it would not disturb Mademoiselle too +much, I would like to see how far--These ladies advised me to +personally superintend the work--that is, if by doing so I should not +be in anyone's way." + +Angelique's heart beat violently when she saw him come in. She almost +choked, but, making a great effort, she controlled herself. The blood +did not even mount her cheeks, and with an appearance of calm +indifference, she replied: + +"Oh, nothing ever disturbs me, Monsieur. I can work equally well +before anyone. As the design is yours, it is quite natural that you +should wish to follow the execution of it." + +Quite discountenanced by this reception, Felicien would not have dared +to have taken a seat, had not Hubertine welcomed him cordially, as she +smiled in her sweet, quiet way at this excellent customer. Almost +immediately she resumed her work, bending over the frame where she was +embroidering on the sides of the mitre the Gothic ornaments in +guipure, or open lacework. + +On his side, Hubert had just taken down from the wall a banner which +was finished, had been stiffened, and for two days past had been hung +up to dry, and which now he wished to relax. No one spoke; the three +workers kept at their tasks as if no other person had been in the room +with them. + +In the midst of this charming quiet, the young man little by little +grew calmer. When the clock struck three, the shadow of the Cathedral +was already very long, and a delicate half-light entered by the +window, which was wide open. It was almost like the twilight hour, +which commenced early in the afternoon for this little house, so fresh +and green from all the verdure that was about it, as it stood by the +side of the colossal church. A slight sound of steps was heard on the +pavement outside; it was a school of young girls being taken to +Confession. + +In the workroom, the tools, the time-stained walls, everything which +remained there immovable, seemed to sleep in the repose of the +centuries, and from every corner came freshness and rest. A great +square of white light, smooth and pure, fell upon the frame over which +Hubertine and Angelique were bending, with their delicate profiles in +the fawn-coloured reflection of the gold. + +"Mademoiselle," began Felicien, feeling very awkward, as he realised +that he must give some reason for his visit--"I wish to say, +Mademoiselle, that for the hair it seems to me it would be better to +employ gold rather than silk." + +She raised her head, and the laughing expression of her eyes clearly +signified that he need not have taken the trouble of coming if he had +no other recommendation to make. And she looked down again as she +replied, in a half-mocking tone: + +"There is no doubt about that, Monsieur." + +He was indeed ridiculous, for he remarked then for the first time that +it was exactly what she was doing. Before her was the design he had +made, but tinted with water-colours, touched up with gold, with all +the delicacy of an old miniature, a little softened, like what one +sees in some prayer books of the fifteenth century. And she copied +this image with the patience and the skill of an artist working with a +magnifying glass. After having reproduced it with rather heavy strokes +upon the white silk, tightly stretched and lined with heavy linen, she +covered this silk with threads of gold carried from the bottom to the +top, fastened simply at the two ends, so that they were left free and +close to each other. When using the same threads as a woof, she +separated them with the point of her needle to find the design below. +She followed this same drawing, recovered the gold threads with +stitches of silk across, which she assorted according to the colours +of the model. In the shaded parts the silk completely hid the gold; in +the half-lights the stitches of silk were farther and farther apart, +while the real lights were made by gold alone, entirely uncovered. It +was thus the shaded gold, that most beautiful of all work, the +foundation being modified by the silks, making a picture of mellow +colours as if warmed from beneath by a glory and a mystic light. + +"Oh!" suddenly said Hubert, who began to stretch out the banner by +separating with his fingers the cords of the trellis, "the masterpiece +of a woman who embroidered in the olden time was always in this +difficult work. To become a member of the Corporation she had to make, +as it is written in the statutes, a figure by itself in shaded gold, a +sixth part as tall as if life-size. You would have been received, my +Angelique." + +Again there was an unbroken silence. Felicien watched her constantly, +as she stooped forward, absorbed in her task, quite as if she were +entirely alone. For the hair of the saint, contrary to the general +rule, she had had the same idea as he; that was, to use no silk, but +to re-cover gold with gold, and she kept ten needles at work with this +brilliant thread of all shades, from the dark red of dying embers, to +the pale, delicate yellow tint of the leaves of the forest trees in +the autumn. Agnes was thus covered from her neck to her ankles with a +stream of golden hair. It began at the back of her head, covered her +body with a thick mantle, flowed in front of her from the shoulders in +two waves which united under the chin, and fell down to her feet in +one wavy sheet. It was, indeed, the miraculous hair, a fabulous +fleece, with heavy twists and curls, a glorious, starry efflorescence, +the warm and living robe of a saint, perfumed with its pure nudity. + +That day Felicien could do nothing but watch Angelique as she +embroidered the curls, following the exact direction of their rolling +with her little pointed stitches, and he never wearied of seeing the +hair grow and radiate under her magic needle. Its weight, and the +great quivering with which it seemed to be unrolled at one turn, +disturbed him. + +Hubertine, occupied in sewing on spangles, hiding the thread with +which each one was attached with a tiny round of gold twist, lifted up +her head from time to time and gave him a calm motherly look, whenever +she was obliged to throw into the waste-basket a spangle that was not +well made. + +Hubert, who had just taken away the side pieces of wood, that he might +unstitch the banner from the frame, was about folding it up carefully. +And at last, Felicien, whose embarrassment was greatly increased by +this unbroken silence, realised that it was best for him to take +leave, since as yet he had not been able to think of any of the +suggestions which he had said he intended to make. + +He rose, blushed, and stammered: + +"I will return another day. I find that I have so badly succeeded in +reproducing the charming design of the head of the saint that you may +perhaps have need of some explanations from me." + +Angelique looked him fully in the face with her sweet, great eyes. + +"Oh, not at all. But come again, Monsieur. Do not hesitate to do so, +if you are in the least anxious about the execution of the work." + +He went away, happy from the permission given him, but chilled by the +coldness of manner of the young girl. Yes, he realised that she did +not now, and never would, love him. That being the case, what use was +there in seeing her? Yet on the morrow, as well as on the following +days, he did not fail to go to the little house on the Rue des +Orfevres. The hours which he could not pass there were sad enough, +tortured as he was by his uncertainties, distressed by his mental +struggles. He was never calm, except when he was near her as she sat +at her frame. Provided that she was by his side, it seemed to him that +he could resign himself to the acceptance of the fact that he was +disagreeable to her. + +Every morning he arrived at an early hour, spoke of the work, then +seated himself as if his presence there were absolutely necessary. +Then he was in a state of enchantment simply to look at her, with her +finely cut features, her motionless profile, which seemed bathed in +the liquid golden tints of her hair; and he watched in ecstasy the +skilful play of her flexible hands, as she moved them up and down in +the midst of the needlefuls of gold or silk. She had become so +habituated to his presence that she was quite at her ease, and treated +him as a comrade. Nevertheless, he always felt that there was between +them something unexpressed which grieved him to the heart, he knew not +why. Occasionally she looked up, regarding him with an amused, half- +mocking air, and with an inquiring, impatient expression in her face. +Then, finding he was intensely embarrassed she at once became very +cold and distant. + +But Felicien had discovered one way in which he could rouse her, and +he took advantage of it. It was this--to talk to her of her art, of +the ancient masterpieces of embroidery he had seen, either preserved +among the treasures of cathedrals, or copies of which were engraved in +books. For instance, there were the superb copes: that of Charlemagne, +in red silk, with the great eagles with unfurled wings; and the cope +of Sion, which is decorated with a multitude of saintly figures. Then +the dalmatic, which is said to be the most beautiful piece of +embroidery in the whole world; the Imperial dalmatic, on which is +celebrated the glory of Jesus Christ upon the earth and in heaven, the +Transfiguration, and the Last Judgment, in which the different +personages are embroidered in silks of various colours, and in silver +and gold. Also, there is a wonderful tree of Jesse, an orfrey of silk +upon satin, which is so perfect it seems as if it were detached from a +window of the fifteenth century; Abraham at the foot, then David, +Solomon, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and at the very top the Saviour. + +Among the admirable chasubles he had seen, one in particular was +touching in its simplicity. It represented Christ on the Cross, and +the drops of blood from His side and His feet were made by little +splashes of red silk on the cloth of gold, while in the foreground was +Mary, tenderly supported by Saint John. + +On another one, which is called the chasuble of Naintre, the Virgin is +seated in majesty, with richly-wrought sandals on her feet, and +holding the Infant Jesus on her knees. Others, and still others of +marvelous workmanship were alluded to, venerable not only from their +great age and the beautiful faith that they expressed, but from a +richness unknown in our time, preserving the odour of the incense of +tabernacles and the mystic light which seemed to come from the +slightly-faded gold. + +"Ah," sighed Angelique, "all those exquisite things are finished now. +We can only find certain tones to remind us of their perfection." + +With feverish hands and sparkling eyes she stopped working when +Felicien related to her the history of the most noted men and women +who were embroiderers in the olden time--Simonne de Gaules, Colin +Jolye, and others whose names have come down to us through the ages. +Then, after a few moments, she took up her needles again, and made +them fly vigorously, as she appeared transfigured, and guarded on her +face the traces of the delight her artist nature had received in +listening to all these accounts. Never had she seemed to him more +beautiful, so enthusiastic was she, so maidenly and so pure, seated +there in the brighter surroundings of so many coloured silks, applying +herself with unfailing exactitude to her work, into the slightest +details of which she put her whole soul. When he had left off speaking +he looked at her earnestly, until roused by the silence, she realised +the excited state into which all these histories had thrown her, and +became as embarrassed as if she had done something wrong. + +"Oh, dear, look; all my silks are entangled again! Mother, please not +to move about so much." + +Hubertine, who had not stirred at all, was amused, but simply smiled +without saying anything. At first she had been rather disturbed by the +constant attentions of the young man, and had talked the matter over +thoroughly with Hubert one evening in their room. But they could not +help being drawn towards him, and as in every respect his appearance +was good and his manners perfectly respectful, they concluded it was +not necessary to object to interviews from which Angelique derived so +much happiness. So matters were allowed to take their way, and she +watched over the young people with a loving air of protection. + +Moreover, she herself for many days had been oppressed by the +lamenting caresses of her husband, who seemed never to weary of asking +her if he had been forgiven. This month was the anniversary of the +time when they had lost their child, and each year at this date they +had the same regrets and the same longings; he, trembling at her feet, +happy to realise that he was pardoned; she, loving and distressed, +blaming herself for everything, and despairing that Fate had been +inexorable to all their prayers. They spoke of all this to no one, +were the same to outsiders in every way, but this increase of +tenderness between them came from their room like a silent perfume, +disengaged itself from their persons at the least movement, by each +word, and by their way of looking at each other, when it seemed as if +for the moment they almost exchanged souls. All this was like the +grave accompaniment, the deep continuous bass, upon which sang in +clear notes the two hearts of the young couple. + +One week had passed, and the work on the mitre advanced. These daily +meetings had assumed a great and sweet familiarity. + +"The forehead should be very high, should it not? Without any trace of +eyebrows?" + +"Yes, very high, and not the slightest shade. Quite like an old +miniature." + +"Will you pass me the white silk?" + +"Wait a minute, that I may thread it." + +He helped her, and this union of work put them at their ease. It made +the occupation of each day seem perfectly natural to them both, and +without a word of love ever having been spoken, without their hands +having once met by a voluntary touch, the bond between them grew +stronger each hour, and they were henceforth eternally united one to +the other. It was sufficient for them to have lived until now. + +"Father, what are you doing that we no longer hear you?" + +She turned and saw Hubert, who was occupied in winding a long spool, +as his eyes were fixed abstractedly on his wife. + +"I am preparing some gold thread for your mother." + +And from the reel taken to his wife, from the mute thanks of +Hubertine, from the constant little attentions her husband gave her, +there was a warm, caressing breath which surrounded and enveloped +Angelique and Felicien as they both bent again over the frame. The +workroom itself, this ancient hall, as it might almost be called, with +its old tools and its peace of other ages, was an unconscious +accomplice in this work of union. It seemed so far away from the noise +of the street, remote as if in dreamy depths, in this country of good, +simple souls, where miracles reign, the easy realisation of all joys. + +In five days the mitre was to be finished; and Angelique, now sure +that it would be ready to be delivered, and that she would even have +twenty-four hours to spare, took a long breath of satisfaction, and +seemed suddenly astonished at finding Felicien so near her, with his +elbows on the trestle. Had they really become such intimate friends? +She no longer attempted to struggle against what she realised was his +conquering power; her half-malicious smiles ceased at what he tried to +keep back, and which she so well understood, in spite of his +subterfuges. What was it, then, that had made her as if asleep, in her +late restless waiting? And the eternal question returned, the question +that she asked herself every evening when she went to her room. Did +she love him? For hours, in the middle of her great bed, she had +turned over again and again these words, seeking for meanings she +could not find, and thinking she was too ignorant to explain them. But +that night, all at once, she felt her heart was softened by some +inexplicable happiness. She cried nervously, without reason, and hid +her head in her pillow that no one might hear her. + +Yes, now she loved him; she loved him enough to be willing to die for +him. But why? But how? She could not tell, she never would know; +simply from her whole heart came the cry that she did indeed love him. +The light had come to her at last; this new, overpowering joy +overwhelmed her like the most ardent rays of the sun. + +For a long time her tears flowed, but not from sorrow. On the +contrary, she was filled with an inexplicable confusion of happiness +that was indefinable, regretting now, more deeply than ever, that she +had not made a _confidante_ of Hubertine. To-day her secret burdened +her, and she made an earnest vow to herself that henceforth she would +be as cold as an icicle towards Felicien, and would suffer everything +rather than allow him to see her tenderness. He should never know it. +To love him, merely to love him, without even acknowledging it, that +was the punishment, the trial she must undergo to pardon her fault. It +would be to her in reality a delicious suffering. She thought of the +martyrs of whom she had read in the "Golden Legend," and it seemed to +her that she was their sister in torturing herself in this way, and +that her guardian angel, Agnes, would look at her henceforward with +sadder, sweeter eyes than ever. + +The following day Angelique finished the mitre. She had embroidered +with split silk, light as gossamer, the little hands and feet, which +were the only points of white, naked flesh that came out from the +royal mantle of golden hair. She perfected the face with all the +delicacy of the purest lily, wherein the gold seemed like the blood in +the veins under the delicate, silken skin. And this face, radiant as +the sun, was turned heavenward, as the youthful saint was borne upward +by the angels toward the distant horizon of the blue plain. + +When Felicien entered that day, he exclaimed with admiration: + +"Oh! how exactly she looks like you." + +It was an involuntary expression; an acknowledgment of the resemblance +he had purposely put in the design. He realised the fact after he had +spoken, and blushed deeply. + +"That is indeed true, my little one; she has the same beautiful eyes +that you have," said Hubert, who had come forward to examine the work. + +Hubertine merely smiled now, having made a similar remark many days +before, and she was surprised and grieved when she heard Angelique +reply in a harsh, disagreeable tone of voice, like that she sometimes +had in her fits of obstinacy years ago: + +"My beautiful eyes! Why will you make fun of me in that way? I know as +well as you do that I am very ugly." + +Then, getting up, she shook out her dress, overacting her assumed +character of a harsh, avaricious girl. + +"Ah, at last! It is really finished! I am thankful, for it was too +much of a task, too heavy a burden on my shoulders. Do you know, I +would never undertake to make another one for the same price?" + +Felicien listened to her in amazement. Could it be that after all she +still cared only for money? Had he been mistaken when he thought at +times she was so exquisitely tender, and so passionately devoted to +her artistic work? Did she in reality wish for the pay her labour +brought her? And was she so indifferent that she rejoiced at the +completion of her task, wishing neither to see nor to hear of it +again? For several days he had been discouraged as he sought in vain +for some pretext of continuing, later on, visits that gave him such +pleasure. But, alas! it was plain that she did not care for him in the +least, and that she never would love him. His suffering was so great +that he grew very pale and could scarcely speak. + +"But, Mademoiselle, will you not make up the mitre?" + +"No, mother can do it so much better than I can. I am too happy at the +thought that I have nothing more to do with it." + +"But do you not like the work which you do so well?" + +"I? I do not like anything in the world." + +Hubertine was obliged to speak to her sternly, and tell her to be +quiet. She then begged Felicien to be so good as to pardon her nervous +child, who was a little weary from her long-continued application. She +added that the mitre would be at his disposal at an early hour on the +following morning. It was the same as if she had asked him to go away, +but he could not leave. He stood and looked around him in this old +workroom, filled with shade and with peace, and it seemed to him as if +he were being driven from Paradise. He had spent so many sweet hours +there in the illusion of his brightest fancies, that it was like +tearing his very heart-strings to think all this was at an end. What +troubled him the worst was his inability to explain matters, and that +he could only take with him such a fearful uncertainty. At last he +said good-day, resolved to risk everything at the first opportunity +rather than not to know the truth. + +Scarcely had he closed the door when Hubert asked: + +"What is the matter with you, my dear child? Are you ill?" + +"No, indeed. It is simply that I am tired of having that young man +here. I do not wish to see him again." + +Then Hubertine added: "Very well; you will not see him again. But +nothing should ever prevent one from being polite." + +Angelique, making some trivial excuse, hurried up to her room as +quickly as possible. Then she gave free course to her tears. Ah, how +intensely happy she was, yet how she suffered! Her poor, dear beloved; +he was sad enough when he found he must leave her! But she must not +forget that she had made a vow to the saints, that although she loved +him better than life, he should never know it. + + + + CHAPTER VIII + +On the evening of this same day, immediately after leaving the dinner- +table, Angelique complained of not being at all well, and went up at +once to her room. The agitation and excitement of the morning, her +struggles against her true self, had quite exhausted her. She made +haste to go to bed, and covering her head with the sheet, with a +desperate feeling of disappearing for ever if she could, again the +tears came to her relief. + +The hours passed slowly, and soon it was night--a warm July night, the +heavy, oppressive quiet of which entered through the window, which had +been left wide open. In the dark heavens glistened a multitude of +stars. It must have been nearly eleven o'clock, and the moon, already +grown quite thin in its last quarter, would not rise until midnight. + +And in the obscure chamber, Angelique still wept nervously a flow of +inexhaustible tears, seemingly without reason, when a slight noise at +her door caused her to lift up her head. + +There was a short silence, when a voice called her tenderly. + +"Angelique! Angelique! My darling child!" + +She recognised the voice of Hubertine. Without doubt the latter, in +her room with her husband, had just heard the distant sound of +sobbing, and anxious, half-undressed, she had come upstairs to find +out what was the matter with her daughter. + +"Angelique, are you ill, my dear?" + +Retaining her breath, the young girl made no answer. She did not wish +to be unkind, but her one absorbing idea at this moment was of +solitude. To be alone was the only possible alleviation of her +trouble. A word of consolation, a caress, even from her mother, would +have distressed her. She imagined that she saw her standing at the +other side of the door, and from the delicacy of the rustling movement +on the tiled floor she thought she must be barefooted. Two or three +minutes passed, and she knew the kind watcher had not left her place, +but that, stooping, and holding with her beautiful hands the clothing +so carelessly thrown over her, she still listened at the keyhole. + +Hubertine, hearing nothing more, not even a sigh, did not like to call +again. She was very sure that she had heard sobs; but if the child had +at last been able to sleep, what good would it do to awaken her? She +waited, however, another moment, troubled by the thought of a grief +which her daughter hid from her, confusedly imagining what it might be +from the tender emotion with which her heart seemed filled from +sympathy. At last she concluded to go down as she had come up, +quietly, her hands being so familiar with every turning that she +needed no candle, and leaving behind her no other sound than the soft, +light touch of her bare feet. + +Then, sitting up in bed, Angelique in her turn listened. So profound +was the outward silence that she could clearly distinguish the slight +pressure of the heel on the edge of each step of the stairway. At the +foot, the door of the chamber was opened, then closed again; +afterward, she heard a scarcely-distinct murmur, an affectionate, yet +sad blending of voices in a half-whisper. No doubt it was what her +father and mother were saying of her; the fears and the hopes they had +in regard to her. For a long time that continued, although they must +have put out their light and gone to bed. + +Never before had any night sounds in this old house mounted in this +way to her ears. Ordinarily, she slept the heavy, tranquil sleep of +youth; she heard nothing whatever after placing her head upon her +pillow; whilst now, in the wakefulness caused by the inner combat +against an almost overpowering sentiment of affection which she was +determined to conquer, it seemed to her as if the whole house were in +unison with her, that it was also in love, and mourned like herself. +Were not the Huberts, too, sad, as they stilled their tears and +thought of the child they had lost long ago, whose place, alas! had +never been filled? She knew nothing of this in reality, but she had a +sensation in this warm night of the watch of her parents below her, +and of the disappointment in their lives, which they could not forget, +notwithstanding their great love for each other, which was always as +fresh as when they were young. + +Whilst she was seated in this way, listening in the house that +trembled and sighed, Angelique lost all self-control, and again the +tears rolled down her face, silently, but warm and living, as if they +were her life's blood. One question above all others had troubled her +since the early morning, and had grieved her deeply. Was she right in +having sent away Felicien in despair, stabbed to the heart by her +coldness, and with the thought that she did not love him? She knew +that she did love him, yet she had willingly caused him to suffer, and +now in her turn she was suffering intensely. Why should there be so +much pain connected with love? Did the saints wish for tears? Could it +be that Agnes, her guardian angel, was angry in the knowledge that she +was happy? Now, for the first time, she was distracted by a doubt. +Before this, whenever she thought of the hero she awaited, and who +must come sooner or later, she had arranged everything much more +satisfactorily. When the right time arrived he was to enter her very +room, where she would immediately recognise and welcome him, when they +would both go away together, to be united for evermore. But how +different was the reality! He had come, and, instead of what she had +foreseen, their meeting was most unsatisfactory; they were equally +unhappy, and were eternally separated. To what purpose? Why had this +result come to pass? Who had exacted from her so strange a vow, that, +although he might be very dear to her, she was never to let him know +it? + +But, yet again, Angelique was especially grieved from the fear that +she might have been bad and done some very wrong thing. Perhaps the +original sin that was in her had manifested itself again as when she +was a little girl! She thought over all her acts of pretended +indifference: the mocking air with which she had received Felicien, +and the malicious pleasure she took in giving him a false idea of +herself. And the astonishment at what she had done, added to a cutting +remorse for her cruelty, increased her distress. Now, her whole heart +was filled with a deep infinite pity for the suffering she had caused +him without really meaning to do so. + +She saw him constantly before her, as he was when he left the house in +the morning: the despairing expression of his face, his troubled eyes, +his trembling lips; and in imagination she followed him through the +streets, as he went home, pale, utterly desolate, and wounded to the +heart's core by her. Where was he now? Perhaps at this hour he was +really ill! + +She wrung her hands in agony, distressed that she could not at once +repair the evil she had done. Ah! how she revolted at the idea of +having made another suffer, for she had always wished to be good, and +to render those about her as happy as possible. + +Twelve o'clock would ere long ring out from the old church-tower; the +great elms of the garden of the Bishop's palace hid the moon, which +was just appearing above the horizon, and the chamber was still dark. +Then, letting her head fall back upon the pillow, Angelique dwelt no +longer upon these disturbing questions, as she wished to go to sleep. +But this she could not do; although she kept her eyes closed, her mind +was still active; she thought of the flowers which every night during +the last fortnight she had found when she went upstairs upon the +balcony before her window. Each evening it was a lovely bouquet of +violets, which Felicien had certainly thrown there from the Clos- +Marie. She recollected having told him that flowers generally gave her +a sick headache, whilst violets alone had the singular virtue of +calming her, and so he had sent her quiet nights, a perfumed sleep +refreshed by pleasant dreams. This evening she had placed the bouquet +by her bedside. All at once she had the happy thought of taking it +into her bed with her, putting it near her cheek, and, little by +little, being soothed with its sweet breath. The purple blossoms did +indeed do her good. Not that she slept, however; but she lay there +with closed eyes, penetrated by the refreshing odour that came from +his gift; happy to await events, in a repose and confident abandonment +of her whole being. + +But suddenly she started. It was past midnight. She opened her eyes, +and was astonished to find her chamber filled with a clear bright +light. Above the great elms the moon rose slowly, dimming the stars in +the pale sky. Through the window she saw the apse of the cathedral, +almost white, and it seemed to her as if it were the reflection of +this whiteness which entered her room, like the light of the dawn, +fresh and pure. The whitewashed walls and beams, all this blank nudity +was increased by it, enlarged, and moved back as if it were unreal as +a dream. + +She still recognised, however, the old, dark, oaken furniture--the +wardrobe, the chest and the chairs, with the shining edges of their +elaborate carvings. The bedstead alone--this great square, royal +couch--seemed new to her, as if she saw it for the first time, with +its high columns supporting its canopy of old-fashioned, rose-tinted +cretonne, now bathed with such a sheet of deep moonlight that she half +thought she was on a cloud in the midst of the heavens, borne along by +a flight of silent, invisible wings. For a moment she felt the full +swinging of it; it did not seem at all strange or unnatural to her. +But her sight soon grew accustomed to the reality; her bed was again +in its usual corner, and she was in it, not moving her head, her eyes +alone turning from side to side, as she lay in the midst of this lake +of beaming rays, with the bouquet of violets upon her lips. + +Why was it that she was thus in a state of waiting? Why could she not +sleep? She was sure that she expected someone. That she had grown +quite calm was a sign that her hero was about to appear. This +consoling light, which put to flight the darkness of all bad dreams, +announced his arrival. He was on his way, and the moon, whose +brightness almost equalled that of the sun, was simply his forerunner. +She must be ready to greet him. + +The chamber was as if hung with white velvet now, so they could see +each other well. Then she got up, dressed herself thoroughly, putting +on a simple white gown of foulard, the same she had worn the day of +their excursion to the ruins of Hautecoeur. She did not braid her +hair, but let it hang over her shoulders. She put a pair of slippers +upon her bare feet, and drawing an armchair in front of the window, +seated herself, and waited in patience. + +Angelique did not pretend to know how he would appear. Without doubt, +he would not come up the stairs, and it might be that she would simply +see him over the Clos-Marie, while she leaned from the balcony. Still, +she kept her place on the threshold of the window, as it seemed to her +useless to go and watch for him just yet. So vague was her idea of +real life, so mystic was love, that she did not understand in her +imaginative nature why he might not pass through the walls, like the +saints in the legends. Why should not miracles come now, as in the +olden days, for had not all this been ordained from the beginning? + +Not for a moment did she think she was alone to receive him. No, +indeed! She felt as if she were surrounded by the crowd of virgins who +had always been near her, since her early youth. They entered on the +rays of the moonlight, they came from the great dark trees with their +blue-green tops in the Bishop's garden, from the most intricate +corners of the entanglement of the stone front of the Cathedral. From +all the familiar and beloved horizon of the Chevrotte, from the +willows, the grasses, and bushes, the young girl heard the dreams +which came back to her, the hopes, the desires, the visions, all that +which she had put of herself into inanimate objects as she saw them +daily, and which they now returned to her. Never had the voices of the +Invisible unknown spoken so clearly. She listened to them as they came +from afar, recognising particularly in this warm, beautiful night, so +calm that there was not the slightest movement in the air, the +delicate sound which she was wont to call the fluttering of the robe +of Agnes, when her dear guardian angel came to her side. She laughed +quietly to know that she was now by her, and waiting with the others +who were near her. + +Time passed, but it did not seem long to Angelique. She was quite +conscious of what was passing around her. It appeared to her perfectly +natural, and exactly as it had been foretold, when at last she saw +Felicien striding over the balustrade of the balcony. + +His tall figure came out in full relief before the background of the +white sky; he did not approach the open window, but remained in its +luminous shadow. + +"Do not be afraid. It is I. I have come to see you." + +She was not in the slightest way alarmed; she simply thought that he +was exact to the hour of meeting, and said calmly: + +"You mounted by the timber framework, did you not?" + +"Yes, by the framework." + +The idea of this way made her laugh, and he himself was amused by it. +He had in fact pulled himself up by the pent-house shed; then, +climbing along the principal rafters from there, whose ends were +supported by the string-course of the first story, he had without +difficulty reached the balcony. + +"I was expecting you. Will you not come nearer me?" + +Felicien, who had arrived in a state of anger, not knowing how he had +dared to come, but with many wild ideas in his head, did not move, so +surprised and delighted was he by this unexpected reception. As he had +come at last, Angelique was now certain that the saints did not +prohibit her from loving, for she heard them welcoming him with her by +a laugh as delicate as a breath of the night. Where in the world had +she ever found so ridiculous an idea as to think that Agnes would be +angry with her! On the contrary, Agnes was radiant with a joy that she +felt as it descended on her shoulders and enveloped her like a caress +from two great wings. All those who had died for love showed great +compassion for youthful troubles, and only returned to earth on summer +nights, that, although invisible, they might watch those young hearts +who were sorrowful from affection. + +"But why do you not come to me? I was waiting for you." + +Then, hesitatingly, Felicien approached. He had been so excited, so +carried away by anger at her indifference, that he had said she should +be made to love him, and that, were it necessary, he would carry her +away even against her will. And lo! now finding her so gentle as he +penetrated almost to the entrance of this chamber, so pure and white, +he became subdued at once, and as gentle and submissive as a child. + +He took three steps forward. But he was afraid, and not daring to go +farther, he fell on his knees at the end of the balcony. + +"Could you but know," he said, "the abominable tortures I have passed +through. I have never imagined a worse suffering. Really, the only +true grief is to think that you are not beloved by the person to whom +you have given your affection. I would willingly give up all else; +would consent to be poor, dying from hunger, or racked by pain; but I +will not pass another day with this terrible doubt gnawing at my +heart, of thinking that you do not love me. Be good, I pray you, and +pity me." + +She listened to him, silent, overcome with compassion, yet very happy +withal. + +"This morning you sent me away in such a dreadful manner! I had +fancied to myself that you had changed your feelings towards me, and +that, appreciating my affection, you liked me better. But, alas! I +found you exactly as you had been on the first day, cold, indifferent, +treating me as you would have done any other simple customer who +passed, recalling me harshly to the commonplaces of life. On the +stairway I staggered. Once outside, I ran, and was afraid I might +scream aloud. Then, the moment I reached home, it seemed to me I +should stifle were I to enter the house. So I rushed out into the +fields, walking by chance first on one side of the road and then on +another. Evening came, and I was still wandering up and down. But the +torment of spirit moved faster than ever and devoured me. When one is +hopelessly in love, it is impossible to escape from the pains +accompanying one's affection. Listen!" he said, and he touched his +breast; "it is here that you stabbed me, and the point of the knife +still continues to penetrate deeper and deeper." + +He gave a long sigh at the keen recollection of his torture. + +"I found myself at last in a thicket, overcome by my distress, like a +tree that has been drawn up by the roots. To me, the only thing that +existed in life, in the future, was you. The thought that you might +never be mine was more than I could bear. Already my feet were so +weary that they would no longer support me. I felt that my hands were +growing icy cold, and my head was filled with the strangest fancies. +And that is why I am here. I do not know at all how I came, or where I +found the necessary strength to bring me to you. You must try to +forgive me; but had I been forced to do so, I would have broken open +doors with my fists, I would have clambered up to this balcony in +broad daylight, for my will was no longer under my control, and I was +quite wild. Now, will you not pardon me?" + +She was a little in the shadow, and he, on his knees in the full +moonlight, could not see that she had grown very pale in her tender +repentance, and was too touched by his story to be able to speak. He +thought that she was still insensible to his pleadings, and he joined +his hands together most beseechingly. + +"All my interest in you commenced long ago. It was one night when I +saw you for the first time, here at your window. You were only a +vague, white shadow; I could scarcely distinguish one of your +features, yet I saw you and imagined you just as you are in reality. +But I was timid and afraid, so for several days I wandered about here, +never daring to try to meet you in the open day. And, in addition, +since this is a confession, I must tell you everything; you pleased me +particularly in this half mystery; it would have disturbed me to have +you come out from it, for my great happiness was to dream of you as if +you were an apparition, or an unknown something to be worshipped from +afar, without ever hoping to become acquainted with you. Later on, I +knew who you were, for after all it is difficult to resist the +temptation to know what may be the realisation of one's dream. It was +then that my restlessness commenced. It has increased at each meeting. +Do you recollect the first time that we spoke to each other in the +field near by, on that forenoon when I was examining the painted +window? Never in my life did I feel so awkward as then, and it was not +strange that you ridiculed me so. Afterwards I frightened you, and +realised that I continued to be very unfortunate in following you, +even in the visits you made to the poor people. Already I ceased to be +master of my own actions, and did things that astonished me beyond +measure, and which, under usual circumstances, I would not have dared +attempt. For instance, when I presented myself here with the order for +a mitre, I was pushed forward by an involuntary force, as, personally, +I dared not do it, knowing that I might make you angry. But at present +I cannot regain my old self, I can only obey my impulses. I know that +you do not like me, and yet, as you see, in spite of it all I have +come back to you, that I may hear you tell me so. If you would but try +to understand how miserable I am. Do not love me if it is not in your +heart to do so. I must accept my fate. But at least allow me to love +you. Be as cold as you please, be hateful if you will--I shall adore +you whatever you may choose to be. I only ask to be able to see you, +even without any hope; merely for the joy of living thus at your +feet." + +Felicien stopped, disheartened, losing all courage as he thought he +would never find any way of touching her heart. And he did not see +that Angelique smiled, half hidden as she was by the open window-sash. +It was an invincible smile, that, little by little, spread over her +whole face. Ah! the dear fellow! How simple and trusting he was as he +outpoured the prayer of his heart, filled with new longings and love, +in bowing before her, as before the highest ideal of all his youthful +dreams. + +To think that she had ever been so foolish as at first to try to avoid +all meetings with him, and then, later on, had determined that +although she could not help loving him, he should never know it! Such +folly on her part was quite inexplicable. Since love is right, and is +the fate of all, what good could be gained by making martyrs of them +both? + +A complete silence ensued, and in her enthusiastic, imaginative, +nervous state, she heard, louder than ever, in the quiet of the warm +night, the voices of the saints about her, who said love was never +forbidden when it was so ardent and true as this. Behind her back a +bright flash of light had suddenly appeared; scarcely a breath, but a +delicate wave from the moon upon the chamber floor. An invisible +finger, no doubt that of her guardian angel, was placed upon her +mouth, as if to unseal her lips and relieve her from her vow. +Henceforth she could freely unburden herself and tell the truth. All +that which was powerful and tender in her surroundings now whispered +to her words which seemed to come from the infinite unknown. + +Then, at last, Angelique spoke. + +"Ah! yes, I recollect--I recollect it all." + +And Felicien was at once carried away with delight by the music of +this voice, whose extreme charm was so great over him that his love +seemed to increase simply from listening to it. + +"Yes, I remember well when you came in the night. You were so far away +those first evenings that the little sound you made in walking left me +in quite an uncertain state. At last I realised perfectly that it was +you who approached me, and a little later I recognised your shadow. At +length, one evening you showed yourself boldly, on a beautiful, bright +night like this, in the full white light of the moon. You came out so +slowly from the inanimate objects near you, like a creation from all +the mysteries that surrounded me, exactly as I had expected to see you +for a long time, and punctual to the meeting. + +"I have never forgotten the great desire to laugh, which I kept back, +but which broke forth in spite of me, when you saved the linen that was +being carried away by the Chevrotte. I recollect my anger when you +robbed me of my poor people, by giving them so much money, and thus +making me appear as a miser. I can still recall my fear on the evening +when you forced me to run so fast through the grass with my bare feet. +Oh, yes, I have not forgotten anything--not the slightest thing." + +At this last sentence her voice, pure and crystalline, was a little +broken by the thought of those magic words of the young man, the power +of which she felt so deeply when he said, "I love you," and a deep +blush passed over her face. And he--he listened to her with delight. + +"It is indeed true that I did wrong to tease you. When one is +ignorant, one is often so foolish. One does many things which seem +necessary, simply from the fear of being found fault with if following +the impulses of the heart. But my remorse for all this was deep, and +my sufferings, in consequence, were as great as yours. Were I to try +to explain all this to you, it would be quite impossible for me to do +so. When you came to us with your drawing of Saint Agnes, oh! I could +have cried out, 'Thank you, thank you!' I was perfectly enchanted to +work for you, as I thought you would certainly make us a daily visit. +And yet, think of it! I pretended to be indifferent, as if I had taken +upon myself the task of doing all in my power to drive you from the +house. Has one ever the need of being willfully unhappy? Whilst in +reality I longed to welcome you and to receive you with open hands, +there seemed to be in the depths of my nature another woman than +myself, who revolted, who was afraid of and mistrusted you--whose +delight it was to torture you with uncertainty, in the vague idea of +setting up a quarrel, the cause of which, in a time long passed, had +been quite forgotten. I am not always good; often in my soul things +seem to creep up that I cannot explain or account for. The worst of it +was that I dared to speak to you of money. Fancy it, then! Of money! +I, who have never thought of it, who would accept chariots of it, only +for the pleasure of making it rain down as I wished, among the needy! +What a malicious amusement I gave myself in this calumniating my +character. Will you ever forgive me?" + + + + CHAPTER IX + +Felicien was at her feet. Until now he had kept his place in the +remote corner of the balcony. But in the intense happiness she gave +him in thus unfolding the innermost secrets of her soul he had drawn +himself on his knees towards her, as he approached the window. This +great, illimitable joy was so unlooked for, that he yielded to it in +all the infinitude of its hopes of the future. + +He half whispered: + +"Ah, dear soul, pure, kind, and beautiful, your wonderful goodness has +cured me as with a breath! I know not now if I have ever suffered. +And, in your turn, you will now have to pardon me, for I have an +acknowledgment to make to you. I must tell you who I am." + +He was troubled at the thought he could no longer disguise himself or +his position, since she had confided so freely and entirely in him. It +would be disloyal in the highest degree to do so. Yet he hesitated, +lest he might, after all, lose her, were she to be anxious about the +future when at last she knew the facts. + +And she waited for him to speak again, a little malicious in spite of +herself. + +In a very low voice he continued: + +"I have told a falsehood to your parents." + +"Yes, I know it," she said as she smiled. + +"No, you do not know it; you could not possibly know it, for all that +happened too long ago. I only paint on glass for my own pleasure, and +as a simple amusement; you really ought to be told of that." + +Then, with a quick movement, she put her hand on his mouth, as if she +wished to prevent this explanation. + +"I do not care to hear any more. I have been expecting you. I knew +that sooner or later you would come, and you have done so. That is +all-sufficient." + +They talked no longer for a while. That little hand over his lips +seemed almost too great a happiness for him. + +"When the right time comes, then I shall know all. Yet I assure you +that I am ignorant of nothing connected with you, for everything had +been revealed to me before our first meeting. You were to be, and can +be, only the handsomest, the richest, and the most noble of men, the +one above all others; for that has ever been my dream, and in the sure +certainty of its full accomplishment I wait calmly. You are the chosen +hero who it was ordained should come, and I am yours." + +A second time she interrupted herself in the tremor of the words she +pronounced. She did not appear to say them by herself alone; they came +to her as if sent by the beautiful night from the great white heavens, +from the old trees, and the aged stones sleeping outside and dreaming +aloud the fancies of the young girl. From behind her voices also +whispered them to her, the voices of her friends in the "Golden +Legend," with whom she had peopled the air and the space around her. +In this atmosphere she had ever lived--mysticism, in which she +revelled until it seemed fact on one side, and the daily work of life +on the other. Nothing seemed strange to her. + +Now but one word remained to be said--that which would express all the +long waiting, the slow creation of affection, the constantly +increasing fever of restlessness. It escaped from her lips like a cry +from a distance, from the white flight of a bird mounting upward in +the light of the early dawn, in the pure whiteness of the chamber +behind her. + +"I love you." + +Angelique, her two hands spread out, bent forward towards Felicien. +And he recalled to himself the evening when she ran barefooted through +the grass, making so adorable a picture that he pursued her in order +to stammer in her ear these same words: "I love you." He knew that now +she was simply replying to him with the same cry of affection, the +eternal cry, which at last came from her freely-opened heart. + +"Yes, I love you. I am yours. Lead the way, and I will follow you +wherever it may be." + +In this surrender of her soul she gave herself to him fully and +entirely. It was the hereditary flame relighted within her--the pride +and the passion she thought had been conquered, but which awoke at the +wish of her beloved. He trembled before this innocence, so ardent and +so ingenuous. He took her hands gently, and crossed them upon her +breast. For a moment he looked at her, radiant with the intense +happiness her confession had given him, unwilling to wound her +delicacy in the slightest degree, and not thinking of yielding to the +temptation of even kissing her hair. + +"You love me, and you know that I love you! Ah! what bliss there is in +such knowledge." + +But they were suddenly drawn from their ecstatic state by a change +about them. What did it all mean? They realised that now they were +looking at each other under a great white light. It seemed to them as +if the brightness of the moon had been increased, and was as +resplendent as that of the sun. It was in reality the daybreak, a +slight shade of which already tinged with purple the tops of the elm- +trees in the neighbouring gardens. What? It could not be possible that +the dawn had come? They were astonished by it, for they did not +realise so long a time had passed since they began to talk together on +the balcony. She had as yet told him nothing, and he had so many +things he wished to say! + +"Oh, stay one minute more, only one minute!" he exclaimed. + +The daylight advanced still faster--the smiling morning, already warm, +of what was to be a hot day in summer. One by one the stars were +extinguished, and with them fled the wandering visions, and all the +host of invisible friends seemed to mount upward and to glide away on +the moon's rays. + +Now, in the full, clear light, the room behind them had only its +ordinary whiteness of walls and ceiling, and seemed quite empty with +its old-fashioned furniture of dark oak. The velvet hangings were no +longer there, and the bedstead had resumed its original shape, as it +stood half hidden by the falling of one of its curtains. + +"Do stay! Let me be near you only one minute more!" + +Angelique, having risen, refused, and begged Felicien to leave +immediately. Since the day had come, she had grown confused and +anxious. The reality was now here. At her right hand, she seemed to +hear a delicate movement of wings, whilst her hair was gently blown, +although there was not the slightest breath of wind. Was it not Saint +Agnes, who, having remained until the last, was now forced to leave, +driven away by the sun? + +"No, leave me, I beg of you. I am unwilling you should stay longer." + +Then Felicien, obedient, withdrew. + +To know that he was beloved was enough for him, and satisfied him. +Still, before leaving the balcony, he turned, and looked at her again +fixedly, as if he wished to carry away with him an indelible +remembrance of her. They both smiled at each other as they stood thus, +bathed with light, in this long caressing look. + +At last he said: + +"I love you." + +And she gently replied: + +"I love you." + +That was all, and he had in a moment, with the agility of a bird, gone +down the woodwork of the corner of the building, while she, remaining +on the balcony, leaned on the balustrade and watched him, with her +tender, beautiful eyes. She had taken the bouquet of violets and +breathed the perfume to cool her feverishness. When, in crossing the +Clos-Marie, he lifted his head, he saw that she was kissing the +flowers. + +Scarcely had Felicien disappeared behind the willows, when Angelique +was disturbed by hearing below the opening of the house-door. Four +o'clock had just struck, and no one was in the habit of getting up +until two hours later. Her surprise increased when she recognised +Hubertine, as it was always Hubert who went down the first. She saw +her follow slowly the walks of the narrow garden, her arms hanging +listlessly at her sides, as if, after a restless, sleepless night, a +feeling of suffocating, a need of breathing the fresh air, had made +her leave her room so early. And Hubertine was really very beautiful, +with her clothes so hastily put on; and she seemed very weary--happy, +but in the deepest grief. + +The morning of the next day, on waking from a sound sleep of eight +hours, one of those sweet, deep, refreshing sleeps that come after +some great happiness, Angelique ran to her window. The sky was clear, +the air pure, and the fine weather had returned after a heavy shower +of the previous evening. Delighted, she called out joyously to Hubert, +who was just opening the blinds below her: + +"Father! Father! Do look at the beautiful sunlight. Oh, how glad I am, +for the procession will be superb!" + +Dressing herself as quickly as possible, she hurried to go downstairs. +It was on that day, July 28, that the Procession of the Miracle would +pass through the streets of the upper town. Every summer at this date +it was also a festival for the embroiderers; all work was put aside, +no needles were threaded, but the day was passed in ornamenting the +house, after a traditional arrangement that had been transmitted from +mother to daughter for four hundred years. + +All the while that she was taking her coffee, Angelique talked of the +hangings. + +"Mother, we must look at them at once, to see if they are in good +order." + +"We have plenty of time before us, my dear," replied Hubertine, in her +quiet way. "We shall not put them up until afternoon." + +The decorations in question consisted of three large panels of the +most admirable ancient embroidery, which the Huberts guarded with the +greatest care as a sacred family relic, and which they brought out +once a year on the occasion of the passing of this special procession. + +The previous evening, according to a time-honoured custom, the Master +of the Ceremonies, the good Abbe Cornille, had gone from door to door +to notify the inhabitants of the route which would be taken by the +bearers of the statue of Saint Agnes, accompanied by Monseigneur the +Bishop, carrying the Holy Sacrament. For more than five centuries this +route had been the same. The departure was made from the portal of +Saint Agnes, then by the Rue des Orfevres to the Grand Rue, to the Rue +Basse, and after having gone through the whole of the lower town, it +returned by the Rue Magloire and the Place du Cloitre, to reappear +again at the great front entrance of the Church. And the dwellers on +all these streets, vying with each other in their zeal, decorated +their windows, hung upon their walls their richest possessions in +silks, satins, velvets, or tapestry, and strewed the pavements with +flowers, particularly with the leaves of roses and carnations. + +Angelique was very impatient until permission had been given her to +take from the drawers, where they had been quietly resting for the +past twelve months, the three pieces of embroidery. + +"They are in perfect order, mother. Nothing has happened to them," she +said, as she looked at them, enraptured. + +She had with the greatest care removed the mass of silk paper that +protected them from the dust, and they now appeared in all their +beauty. The three were consecrated to Mary. The Blessed Virgin +receiving the visit of the Angel of the Annunciation; the Virgin +Mother at the foot of the Cross; and the Assumption of the Virgin. +They were made in the fifteenth century, of brightly coloured silks +wrought on a golden background, and were wonderfully well preserved. +The family had always refused to sell them, although very large sums +had been offered by different churches, and they were justly proud of +their possessions. + +"Mother, dear, may I not hang them up to-day?" + +All these preparations required a great deal of time. Hubert was +occupied the whole forenoon in cleaning the front of the old building. +He fastened a broom to the end of a long stick, that he might dust all +the wooden panels decorated with bricks, as far as the framework of +the roof; then with a sponge he washed all the sub-basement of stone, +and all the parts of the stairway tower that he could reach. When that +was finished, the three superb pieces of embroidery were put in their +places. Angelique attached them, by their rings, to venerable nails +that were in the walls; the Annunciation below the window at the left, +the Assumption below the window at the right, while for the Calvary, +the nails for that were above the great window of the first story, and +she was obliged to use a step-ladder that she might hang it there in +its turn. She had already embellished the window with flowers, so that +the ancient dwelling seemed to have gone back to the far-away time of +its youth, with its embroideries of gold and of silk glistening in the +beautiful sunshine of this festive day. + +After the noon breakfast the activity increased in every direction, +and the whole Rue des Orfevres was now in excitement. To avoid the +great heat, the procession would not move until five o'clock, but +after twelve the town began to be decorated. Opposite the Huberts', +the silversmith dressed his shop with draperies of an exquisite light +blue, bordered with a silver fringe; while the wax-chandler, who was +next to him, made use of his window-curtains of red cotton, which +looked more brilliant than ever in the broad light of day. At each +house there were different colours; a prodigality of stuffs, +everything that people owned, even to rugs of all descriptions, were +blowing about in the weary air of this hot summer afternoon. The +street now seemed clothed, sparkling, and almost trembling with +gaiety, as if changed into a gallery of fete open to the sky. All its +inhabitants were rushing to and fro, pushing against each other; +speaking loud, as if in their own homes; some of them carrying their +arms full of objects, others climbing, driving nails, and calling +vociferously. In addition to all this was the _reposoir_, or altar, +that was being prepared at the corner of the Grand Rue, the +arrangements for which called for the services of all the women of the +neighbourhood, who eagerly offered their vases and candlesticks. + +Angelique ran down to carry the two candelabra, of the style of the +Empire, which they had on the mantel-shelf of their parlour. She had +not taken a moment's rest since the early morning, but had shown no +signs of fatigue, being, on the contrary, supported and carried above +herself by her great inward happiness. And as she came back from her +errand, her hair blown all about her face by the wind, Hubert began to +tease her as she seated herself to strip off the leaves of the roses, +and to put them in a great basket. + +"You could not do any more than you have done were it your wedding- +day, my dear. Is it, then, that you are really to be married now?" + +"But yes! oh, yes! Why not?" she answered gaily. + +Hubertine smiled in her turn. + +"While waiting, my daughter, since the house is so satisfactorily +arranged, the best thing for us to do is to go upstairs and dress." + +"In a minute, mother. Look at my full basket." + +She had finished taking the leaves from the roses which she had +reserved to throw before Monseigneur. The petals rained from her +slender fingers; the basket was running over with its light, perfumed +contents. Then, as she disappeared on the narrow stairway of the +tower, she said, while laughing heartily: + +"We will be quick. I will make myself beautiful as a star!" + +The afternoon advanced. Now the feverish movement in Beaumont-l'Eglise +was calmed; a peculiar air of expectation seemed to fill the streets, +which were all ready, and where everyone spoke softly, in hushed, +whispering voices. The heat had diminished, as the sun's rays grew +oblique, and between the houses, so closely pressed the one against +the others, there fell from the pale sky only a warm, fine shadow of a +gentle, serene nature. The air of meditation was profound, as if the +old town had become simply a continuation of the Cathedral; the only +sound of carriages that could be heard came up from Beaumont-la-Ville, +the new town on the banks of the Ligneul, where many of the factories +were not closed, as the proprietors disdained taking part in this +ancient religious ceremony. + +Soon after four o'clock the great bell of the northern tower, the one +whose swinging stirred the house of the Huberts, began to ring; and it +was at that very moment that Hubertine and Angelique reappeared. The +former had put on a dress of pale buff linen, trimmed with a simple +thread lace, but her figure was so slight and youthful in its delicate +roundness that she looked as if she were the sister of her adopted +daughter. Angelique wore her dress of white foulard, with its soft +ruchings at the neck and wrists, and nothing else; neither earrings +nor bracelets, only her bare wrists and throat, soft in their satiny +whiteness as they came out from the delicate material, light as the +opening of a flower. An invisible comb, put in place hastily, scarcely +held the curls of her golden hair, which was carelessly dressed. She +was artless and proud, of a most touching simplicity, and, indeed, +"beautiful as a star." + +"Ah!" she said, "the bell! That is to show that Monseigneur has left +his palace." + +The bell continued to sound loud and clear in the great purity of the +atmosphere. The Huberts installed themselves at the wide-opened window +of the first story, the mother and daughter being in front, with their +elbows resting on the bar of support, and the husband and father +standing behind them. These were their accustomed places; they could +not possibly have found better, as they would be the very first to see +the procession as it came from the farther end of the church, without +missing even a single candle of the marching-past. + +"Where is my basket?" asked Angelique. + +Hubert was obliged to take and pass to her the basket of rose-leaves, +which she held between her arms, pressed against her breast. + +"Oh, that bell!" she at last murmured; "it seems as if it would lull +us to sleep!" + +And still the waiting continued in the little vibrating house, +sonorous with the musical movement; the street and the great square +waited, subdued by this great trembling, whist the hangings on every +side blew about more quietly in the air of the coming evening. The +perfume of roses was very sweet. + +Another half-hour passed. Then at the same moment the two halves of +the portal of Saint Agnes were opened, and they perceived the very +depths of the church, dark in reality, but dotted with little bright +spots from the tapers. First the bearer of the Cross appeared, a sub- +deacon in a tunic, accompanied by the acolytes, each one of whom held +a lighted candle in his hand. Behind them hurried along the Master of +the Ceremonies, the good Abbe Cornille, who after having assured +himself that everything was in perfect order in the street, stopped +under the porch, and assisted a moment at the passing out, in order to +be sure that the places assigned to each section had been rightly +taken. The various societies of laymen opened the march: the +charitable associations, schools, by rank of seniority, and numerous +public organisations. There were a great many children: little girls +all in white, like brides, and little bareheaded boys, with curly +hair, dressed in their best, like princes, already looking in every +direction to find where their mothers were. A splendid fellow, nine +years of age, walked by himself in the middle, clad like Saint John +the Baptist, with a sheepskin over his thin, bare shoulders. Four +little girls, covered with pink ribbons, bore a shield on which was a +sheaf of ripe wheat. Then there were young girls grouped around a +banner of the Blessed Virgin; ladies in black, who also had their +special banner of crimson silk, on which was embroidered a portrait of +Saint Joseph. There were other and still other banners, in velvet or +in satin, balanced at the end of gilded batons. The brotherhoods of +men were no less numerous; penitents of all colours, but especially +the grey penitents in dark linen suits, wearing cowls, and whose +emblems made a great sensation--a large cross, with a wheel, to which +were attached the instruments of the Passion. + +Angelique exclaimed with tenderness when the children came by: + +"Oh, the blessed darlings! Do look at them all!" + +One, no higher than a boot, scarcely three years of age, proudly +tottered along on his little feet, and looked so comical that she +plunged her hands into her basket and literally covered him with +flowers. He quite disappeared under them for an instant; he had roses +in his hair and on his shoulders. The exquisite little laughing shout +he uttered was enjoyed on every side, and flowers rained down from all +the windows as the cherub passed. In the humming silence of the street +one could now only hear the deafened sound of the regular movement of +feet in the procession, while flowers by the handful still continued +to fall silently upon the pavement. Very soon there were heaps of +them. + +But now, reassured upon the good order of the laymen, the Abbe +Cornille grew impatient and disturbed, inasmuch as the procession had +been stationary for nearly two minutes, and he walked quickly towards +the head of it, bowing and smiling at the Huberts as he passed. + +"What has happened? What can prevent them from continuing?" said +Angelique, all feverish from excitement, as if she were waiting for +some expected happiness that was to come to her from the other end +that was still in the church. + +Hubertine answered her gently, as usual: + +"There is no reason why they should run." + +"There is some obstruction evidently; perhaps it is a _reposoir_ that +is still unfinished," Hubert added. + +The young girls of the Society of the Blessed Virgin, the "daughters +of Mary," as they are called, had already commenced singing a +canticle, and their clear voices rose in the air, pure as crystal. +Nearer and nearer the double ranks caught the movement and recommenced +their march. + + + + CHAPTER X + +After the civilians, the clergy began to leave the church, the lower +orders coming first. All, in surplices, covered their heads with their +caps, under the porch; and each one held a large, lighted wax taper; +those at the right in their right hand, and those at the left in their +left hand, outside the rank, so there was a double row of flame, +almost deadened by the brightness of the day. First were +representatives from the great seminaries, the parishes, and then +collegiate churches; then came the beneficed clergymen and clerks of +the Cathedral, followed by the canons in white pluvials. In their +midst were the choristers, in capes of red silk, who chanted the +anthem in full voice, and to whom all the clergy replied in lower +notes. The hymn, "Pange Lingua," was grandly given. The street was now +filled with a rustling of muslin from the flying winged sleeves of the +surplices, which seemed pierced all over with tiny stars of pale gold +from the flames of the candles. + +"Oh!" at last Angelique half sighed, "there is Saint Agnes!" + +She smiled at the saint, borne by four clerks in white surplices, on a +platform of white velvet heavily ornamented with lace. Each year it +was like a new surprise to her, as she saw her guardian angel thus +brought out from the shadows where she had been growing old for +centuries, quite like another person under the brilliant sunshine, as +if she were timid and blushing in her robe of long, golden hair. She +was really so old, yet still very young, with her small hands, her +little slender feet, her delicate, girlish face, blackened by time. + +But Monseigneur was to follow her. Already the swinging of the censers +could be heard coming from the depths of the church. + +There was a slight murmuring of voices as Angelique repeated: + +"Monseigneur, Monseigneur," and with her eyes still upon the saint who +was going by, she recalled to mind at this moment the old histories. +The noble Marquesses d'Hautecoeur delivering Beaumont from the plague, +thanks to the intervention of Agnes, then Jean V and all those of his +race coming to kneel before her image, to pay their devotions to the +saint, and she seemed to see them all, the lords of the miracle, +coming one by one like a line of princes. + +A large space had been left empty. Then the chaplain charged with the +care of the crozier advanced, holding it erect, the curved part being +towards him. Afterward came two censer-bearers, who walked backwards +and swung the censers gently from side to side, each one having near +him an acolyte charged with the incense-box. There was a little +difficulty before they succeeded in passing by one of the divisions of +the door the great canopy of royal scarlet velvet, decorated with a +heavy fringe of gold. But the delay was short, order was quickly +re-established, and the designated officials took the supports in +hand. Underneath, between his deacons of honour, Monseigneur walked, +bareheaded, his shoulders covered with a white scarf, the two ends of +which enveloped his hands, which bore the Holy Sacrament as high as +possible, and without touching it. + +Immediately the incense-bearers resumed their places, and the censers +sent out in haste, fell back again in unison with the little silvery +sound of their chains. + +But Angelique started as she thought, where had she ever seen anyone +who looked like Monseigneur? She certainly knew his face before, but +had never been struck by it as to-day! All heads were bowed in solemn +devotion. But she was so uneasy, she simply bent down and looked at +him. He was tall, slight, and noble-looking; superb in his physical +strength, notwithstanding his sixty years. His eyes were piercing as +those of an eagle; his nose, a little prominent, only seemed to +increase the sovereign authority of his face, which was somewhat +softened by his white hair, that was thick and curly. She noticed the +pallor of his complexion, and it seemed to her as if he suddenly +flushed from some unknown reason. Perhaps, however, it was simply a +reflection from the great golden-rayed sun which he carried in his +covered hands, and which placed him in a radiance of mystic light. + +Certainly, he to-day made her think of someone, but of whom? As soon +as he left the church, Monseigneur had commenced a psalm, which he +recited in a low voice, alternating the verses thereof with his +deacons. And Angelique trembled when she saw him turn his eyes towards +their window, for he seemed to her so severe, so haughty, and so cold, +as if he were condemning the vanity of all earthly affection. He +turned his face towards the three bands of ancient embroidery--Mary +and the Angel, Mary at the foot of the Cross, Mary being borne to +Heaven--and his face brightened. Then he lowered his eyes and fixed +them upon her, but she was so disturbed she could not tell whether his +glance was harsh or gentle; at all events it was only for a moment, +for quickly regarding the Holy Sacrament, his expression was lost in +the light which came from the great golden vessel. The censers still +swung back and forth with a measured rhythm, while a little blue cloud +mounted in the air. + +But Angelique's heart now beat so rapidly she could scarcely keep +still. Behind the canopy she had just seen a chaplain, his fingers +covered with a scarf, who was carrying the mitre as devoutly as if it +were a sacred object, Saint Agnes flying heavenward with the two +angels, the work of her hands, and into each stitch of which she had +put such deep love. Then, among the laymen who followed, in the midst +of functionaries, of officers, of magistrates, she recognised Felicien +in the front rank, slight and graceful, with his curly hair, his +rather large but straight nose, and his black eyes, the expression of +which was at the same time proud and gentle. She expected him; she was +not at all surprised to find him transformed into a prince; her heart +simply was overflowing with joy. To the anxious look which he gave +her, as of imploring forgiveness for his falsehood, she replied by a +lovely smile. + +"But look!" exclaimed Hubertine, astonished at what she saw, "is not +that the young man who came to our house about the mitre?" + +She had also recognised him, and was much disturbed when, turning +towards the young girl, she saw the latter transfigured, in ecstacy, +avoiding a reply. + +"Then he did not tell us the truth about himself? But why? Do you know +the reason? Tell me, my dear, do you know who this young man is?" + +Yes, perhaps in reality she did know. An inner voice answered all +these questions. But she dared not speak; she was unwilling to ask +herself anything. At the right time and at the proper place the truth +would be made clear. She thought it was approaching, and felt an +increase of pride of spirit, and of great love. + +"But what is it? What has happened?" asked Hubert, as he bent forward +and touched the shoulder of his wife. + +He was never present at the moment of an occurrence, but always +appeared to come from a reverie to the realisation of what passed +about him. When the young man was pointed out to him, he did not +recognise him at all. + +"Is it he? I think not. No, you must be mistaken; it is not he." + +Then Hubertine acknowledged that she was not quite sure. At all +events, it was as well to talk no more about it, but she would inform +herself later on. But the procession, which had stopped again in order +that Monseigneur might incense the Holy Sacrament, which was placed +among the verdure of a temporary altar at the corner of the street, +was now about to move on again; and Angelique, whose hands seemed lost +in the basket on her lap, suddenly, in her delight and confusion, made +a quick movement, and carelessly threw out a great quantity of the +perfumed petals. At that instant Felicien approached. The leaves fell +like a little shower, and at last two of them fluttered, balanced +themselves, then quietly settled down on his hair. + +It was over. The canopy had disappeared round the corner of the Grand +Rue, the end of the cortege went by, leaving the pavements deserted, +hushed as if quieted by a dreamy faith, in the rather strong +exhalation of crushed roses. Yet one could still hear in the distance, +growing weaker and weaker by degrees, the silvery sound of the little +chains of the swinging censers. + +"Oh mother!" said Angelique, pleadingly, "do let us go into the +church, so as to see them all as they come back." + +Hubertine's first impulse was to refuse. But she, for her own part, +was very anxious to ascertain what she could about Felicien, so she +replied: + +"Yes, after a while, if you really wish to do so." + +But they must, of course, wait a little. Angelique, after going to her +room for her hat, could not keep still. She returned every minute to +the great window, which was still wide open. She looked to the end of +the street inquiringly, then she lifted her eyes as if seeking +something in space itself; and so nervous was she that she spoke +aloud, as she mentally followed the procession step by step. + +"Now they are going down the Rue Basse. Ah! see, they must be turning +on the square before the Sous Prefecture. There is no end to all the +long streets in Beaumont-la-Ville. What pleasure can they take in +seeing Saint Agnes, I would like to know. All these petty tradesmen!" + +Above them, in the heavens, was a delicately rose-tinted cloud, with a +band of white and gold around it, and it seemed as if from it there +came a devotional peace and a hush of religious expectation. In the +immobility of the air one realised that all civil life was suspended, +as if God had left His house, and everyone was awaiting His return +before resuming their daily occupations. Opposite them the blue +draperies of the silversmith, and the red curtains of the wax- +chandler, still barred the interior of their shops and hid the +contents from view. The streets seemed empty; there was no +reverberation from one to the other, except that of the slow march of +the clergy, whose progress could easily be realised from every corner +of the town. + +"Mother! mother! I assure you that now they are at the corner of the +Rue Magloire. They will soon come up the hill." + +She was mistaken, for it was only half-past six, and the procession +never came back before a quarter-past seven. She should have known +well, had she not been over-impatient, that the canopy must be only at +the lower wharf of the Ligneul. But she was too excited to think. + +"Oh! mother dear! _do_ hurry, or we may not find any places." + +"Come, make haste then, little one," at last Hubertine said, smiling +in spite of herself. "We shall certainly be obliged to wait a great +while, but never mind." + +"As for me, I will remain at home," said Hubert. "I can take down and +put away the embroidered panels, and then I will set the table for +dinner." + +The church seemed empty to them, as the Blessed Sacrament was no +longer there. All the doors were wide open, like those of a house in +complete disorder, where one is awaiting the return of the master. +Very few persons came in; the great altar alone, a sarcophagus of +severe Romanesque style, glittered as if burning at the end of the +nave, covered as it was with stars from the flame of many candles; all +the rest of the enormous building--the aisles, the chapels, and the +arches--seemed filled with shadow under the coming-on of the evening +darkness. + +Slowly, in order to gain a little patience, Angelique and Hubertine +walked round the edifice. Low down, it seemed as if crushed, thickset +columns supported the semicircular arches of the side-aisles. They +walked the whole length of the dark chapels, which were buried almost +as if they were crypts. Then, when they crossed over, before the great +entrance portal, under the triforium of the organ, they had a feeling +of deliverance as they raised their eyes towards the high, Gothic +windows of the nave, which shot up so gracefully above the heavy +Romanesque coursed work. But they continued by the southern side- +aisle, and the feeling of suffocation returned again. At the cross of +the transept four enormous pillars made the four corners, and rose to +a great height, then struck off to support the roof. There was still +to be found a delicate purple-tinted light, the farewell of the day, +through the rose windows of the side fronts. They had crossed the +three steps which led to the choir, then they turned by the +circumference of the apse, which was the very oldest part of the +building, and seemed most sepulchral. They stopped one moment and +leaned against the ancient grating, which entirely surrounded the +choir, and which was most elaborately wrought, that they might look at +the flaming altar, where each separate light was reflected in the old +polished oak of the stalls, most marvellous stalls, covered with rare +sculptures. So at last they came back to the point from which they +started, lifting up their heads as if they breathed more freely from +the heights of the nave, which the growing shades at night drove +farther away, and enlarged the old walls, on which were faint remains +of paintings and of gold. + +"I know perfectly well that we are altogether too early," said +Hubertine. + +Angelique, without replying, said, as if to herself: + +"How grand it is!" + +It really seemed to her as if she had never known the church before, +but that she had just seen it for the first time. Her eyes wandered +over the motionless sea of chairs, then went to the depth of the +chapels, where she could only imagine were tombs and old funereal +stones, on account of the increased darkness therein. But she saw at +last the Chapel Hautecoeur, where she recognised the window that had +been repaired, with its Saint George, that now looked vague as a +dream, in the dusk. She was unusually happy. + +At last there was a gentle shaking through the whole building, and the +great clock struck. Then the bell began to ring. + +"Ah! now," she said, "look, for they are really coming up the Rue +Magloire." + +This time it was indeed so. A crowd invaded the church, the aisles +were soon filled, and one realised that each minute the procession +approached nearer and nearer. The noise increased with the pealing of +the bells, with a certain rushing movement of air by the great +entrance, the portal of which was wide open. + +Angelique, leaning on Hubertine's shoulder, made herself as tall as +possible by standing upon the points of her feet, as she looked +towards this arched open space, the roundness of whose top was +perfectly defined in the pale twilight of the Place du Cloitre. The +first to appear was, of course, the bearer of the Cross, accompanied +by his two acolytes with their candelabra; and behind them the Master +of the Ceremonies hurried along--the good Abbe Cornille, who now +seemed quite out of breath and overcome by fatigue. At the threshold +of the door, the silhouette of each new arrival was thrown out for a +second, clear and strong, then passed quickly away in the darkness of +the interior. There were the laymen, the schools, the associations, +the fraternities, whose banners, like sails, wavered for an instant, +then suddenly vanished in the shade. One saw again the pale "daughters +of Mary," who, as they entered, still sang with their voices like +those of seraphim. + +The Cathedral had room for all. The nave was slowly filled, the men +being at the right and the women at the left. But night had come. The +whole place outside was dotted with bright points, hundreds of moving +lights, and soon it was the turn for the clergy, the tapers that were +held outside the ranks making a double yellow cord as they passed +through the door. The tapers seemed endless as they succeeded each +other and multiplied themselves; the great seminary, the parishes, and +the Cathedral; the choristers still singing the anthem, and the canons +in their white pluvials. Then little by little the church became +lighted up, seemed inhabited, illuminated, overpowered by hundreds of +stars, like a summer sky. + +Two chairs being unoccupied, Angelique stood upon one of them. + +"Get down, my dear," whispered Hubertine, "for that is forbidden." + +But she tranquilly remained there, and did not move. + +"Why is it forbidden? I must see, at all events. Oh! how exquisite all +this is!" + +At last she prevailed upon her mother to get upon the other chair. + +Now the whole Cathedral was glowing with a reddish yellow light. This +billow of candles which crossed it illuminated the lower arches of the +side-aisles, the depth of the chapels, and glittered upon the glass of +some shrine or upon the gold of some tabernacle. The rays even +penetrated into the apse, and the sepulchral crypts were brightened up +by them. The choir was a mass of flame, with its altar on fire, its +glistening stalls, and its old railing, whose ornamentation stood out +boldly. And the flight of the nave was stronger marked than ever, with +the heavy curved pillars below, supporting the round arches, while +above, the numbers of little columns grew smaller and smaller as they +burst forth among the broken arches of the ogives, like an +inexpressible declaration of faith and love which seemed to come from +the lights. In the centre, under the roof, along the ribs of the nave, +there was a yellow cloud, a thick colour of wax, from the multitude of +little tapers. + +But now, above the sound of feet and the moving of chairs, one heard +again the falling of the chains of the censers. Then the organ pealed +forth majestically, a glorious burst of music that filled to +overflowing the highest arches as if with the rumbling of thunder. It +was at this instant that Monseigneur arrived on the Place du Cloitre. +The statue of Saint Agnes had reached the apse, still borne by the +surpliced clerks, and her face looked very calm under the light, as if +she were more than happy to return to her dreams of four centuries. At +last, preceded by the crosier, and followed by the mitre, Monseigneur +entered with his deacons under the canopy, still having his two hands +covered with a white scarf, and holding the Blessed Sacrament in the +same position as at first. The canopy, which was borne down the +central aisle, was stopped at the railing of the choir, and there, on +account of a certain unavoidable confusion, the Bishop was for a +moment made to approach the persons who formed his suite. Since +Felicien had reappeared, Angelique had looked at him constantly. It so +happened that on account of the pressure he was placed a little at the +right of the canopy, and at that moment she saw very near together the +white head of Monseigneur and the blonde head of the young man. That +glance was a revelation; a sudden light came to her eyes; she joined +her hands together as she said aloud: + +"Oh! Monseigneur, the son of Monseigneur!" + +Her secret escaped her. It was an involuntary cry, the certainty which +revealed itself in this sudden fact of their resemblance. Perhaps, in +the depths of her mind, she already knew it, but she would never have +dared to have said so; whilst now it was self-evident, a fact of which +there could be no denial. From everything around her, from her own +soul, from inanimate objects, from past recollections, her cry seemed +repeated. + +Hubertine, quite overcome, said in a whisper, "This young man is the +son of Monseigneur?" + +Around these two the crowd had gradually accumulated. They were well +known and were greatly admired; the mother still adorable in her +simple toilette of linen, the daughter with the angelic grace of a +cherubim, in her gown of white foulard, as light as a feather. They +were so handsome and in such full view, as they stood upon their +chairs, that from every direction eyes were turned towards them, and +admiring glances given them. + +"But yes, indeed, my good lady," said the _mere_ Lemballeuse, who +chanced to be in the group; "but yes, he is the son of Monseigneur. +But how does it happen that you have not already heard of it? And not +only that, but he is a wonderfully handsome young man, and so rich! +Rich! Yes indeed, he could buy the whole town if he wished to do so. +He has millions and millions!" + +Hubertine turned very pale as she listened. + +"You must have heard his history spoken of?" continued the beggar- +woman. "His mother died soon after his birth, and it was on that +account that Monseigneur concluded to become a clergyman. Now, +however, after all these years, he sent for his son to join him. He +is, in fact, Felicien VII d'Hautecoeur, with a title as if he were a +real prince." + +Then Hubertine was intensely grieved. But Angelique beamed with joy +before the commencement of the realisation of her dream. She was not +in the slightest degree astonished, for she had always known that he +would be the richest, the noblest, and the handsomest of men. So her +joy was intense and perfect, without the slightest anxiety for the +future, or suspicion of any obstacle that could possibly come between +them. In short, he would in his turn now make himself known, and would +tell everything. As she had fancied, gold would stream down with the +little flickering flames of the candles. The organs would send forth +their most glorious music on the occasion of their betrothal. The line +of the Hautecoeurs would continue royally from the beginning of the +legend--Norbert I, Jean V, Felicien III, Jean XII, then the last, +Felicien VII, who just turned towards her his noble face. He was the +descendant of the cousins of the Virgin, the master, the superb son, +showing himself in all his beauty at the side of his father. + +Just then Felicien smiled sweetly at her, and she did not see the +angry look of Monseigneur, who had remarked her standing on the chair, +above the crowd, blushing in her pride and love. + +"Oh, my poor dear child!" sighed Hubertine. + +But the chaplain and the acolytes were ranged on the right and the +left, and the first deacon having taken the Holy Sacrament from the +hands of Monseigneur, he placed it on the altar. It was the final +Benediction--the _Tantum ergo_ sung loudly by the choristers, the +incenses of the boxes burning in the censers, the strange, brusque +silence during the prayer--and in the midst of the lighted church, +overflowing with clergy and with people, under the high, springing +arches, Monseigneur remounted to the altar, took again in his two +hands the great golden sun, which he waved back and forth in the air +three times, with a slow sign of the Cross. + + + + CHAPTER XI + +That same evening, on returning from church, Angelique thought to +herself, "I shall see him again very soon, for he will certainly be in +the Clos-Marie, and I will go there to meet him." + +Without having exchanged a word with each other, they appeared to have +silently arranged this interview. The family dined as usual in the +kitchen, but it was eight o'clock before they were seated at the +table. Hubert, quite excited by this day of recreation and of fete, +was the only one who had anything to say. Hubertine, unusually quiet, +scarcely replied to her husband, but kept her looks fixed upon the +young girl, who ate heartily and with a good appetite, although she +scarcely seemed to pay any attention to the food, or to know that she +put her fork to her mouth, so absorbed was she by her fancies. And +under this candid forehead, as under the crystal of the purest water, +Hubertine read her thoughts clearly, and followed them as they formed +themselves in her mind one by one. + +At nine o'clock they were greatly surprised by a ringing of the door- +bell. It proved to be the Abbe Cornille, who, notwithstanding his +great fatigue, had come to tell them that Monseigneur the Bishop had +greatly admired the three old panels of marvellous embroidery. + +"Yes, indeed! And he spoke of them so enthusiastically to me that I +was sure it would please you to know it." + +Angelique, who had roused up on hearing the name of Monseigneur, fell +back again into her reveries as soon as the conversation turned to the +procession. Then after a few minutes she got up. + +"But where are you going, dear?" asked Hubertine. + +The question startled her, as if she herself knew not why she had left +her seat. + +"I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired." + +In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason +that influenced her. It was the need of being by herself, the haste of +communing alone with her great happiness. + +When she held her in her arms pressed against her breast, she felt +that she was trembling. She almost seemed to avoid her usual evening +kiss. Looking anxiously in her face, Hubertine read in her eyes the +feverish expectation connected with the hoped-for meeting. It was all +so evident to her that she promised herself to keep a close watch. + +"Be good, dear, and sleep well." + +But already, after a hurried good-night to Hubert and to the Abbe +Cornille, Angelique was halfway up the stairs, quite disturbed, as she +realised that her secret had almost escaped her. Had her mother held +her against her heart one second longer, she would have told her +everything. When she had shut herself in her own room, and doubly +locked her door, the light troubled her, and she blew out her candle. +The moon, which rose later and later, had not yet appeared above the +horizon, and the night was very dark. Without undressing, she seated +herself before the open window, looked out into the deep shade, and +waited patiently for the hours to pass. The minutes went by rapidly, +as she was fully occupied with the one idea that as soon as the clock +struck for midnight she would go down to find Felicien. As it would be +the most natural thing in the world to do, she traced out her way, +step by step, and every movement she would make with the most perfect +composure. + +It was not very late when she heard the Abbe Cornille take his leave. +Soon after, the Huberts, in their turn, came upstairs. Then it seemed +to her as if someone came out of their chamber, and with furtive steps +moved cautiously as far as the foot of the stairway, then stopped, as +if listening for a moment before returning. Then the house soon sank, +as if in the quiet of a deep sleep. + +When the great church clock struck twelve, Angelique left her seat. +"Now I must go, for he is waiting for me." She unlocked the door, and, +passing out, neglected closing it after her. Going down the first +flight of stairs, she stopped as she approached the room of the +Huberts, but heard nothing--nothing but the indefinable quivering of +silence. Moreover, she was neither in a hurry, nor had she any fear, +for being totally unconscious of any wrong intentions, she felt at +perfect ease. It would have been quite impossible for her not to have +gone down. An inward power directed and led her, and it all seemed so +simple and right; she would have smiled at the idea of a hidden +danger. Once in the lower rooms, she passed through the kitchen to go +out into the garden, and again forgot to fasten the shutters. Then she +walked rapidly towards the little gate of the Clos-Marie, which she +also left wide open after her. Notwithstanding the obscurity and the +dense shadows in the field, she did not hesitate an instant, but went +direct to the little plank which served as a bridge to the Chevrotte, +crossed it, guiding herself by feeling the way, as if in a familiar +place, where every tree and bush were well known to her. Turning to +the right, under a great willow-tree, she had only to put out her +hands to have them earnestly grasped by Felicien, whom she knew would +be there in waiting for her. + +For a minute, without speaking, Angelique pressed Felicien's hands in +hers. They could not see each other, for the sky was covered with a +misty cloud of heat, and the pale moon which had just risen, had not +yet lighted it up. At length she spoke in the darkness, her heart +filled to overflowing with her great happiness: + +"Oh, my dear seigneur, how I love you, and how grateful I am to you!" + +She laughed aloud at the realisation of the fact that at last she knew +him; she thanked him for being younger, more beautiful, and richer +even than she had expected him to be. Her gaiety was charming; it was +a cry of astonishment and of gratitude before this present of love, +this fulfillment of her dreams. + +"You are the king. You are my master; and lo! here am I, your slave. I +belong to you henceforth, and my only regret is that I am of so little +worth. But I am proud of being yours; it is sufficient for you to love +me, and that I may be in my turn a queen. It was indeed well that I +knew you were to come, and so waited for you; my heart is overflowing +with joy since finding that you are so great, so far above me. Ah! my +dear seigneur, how I thank you, and how I love you." + +Gently he put his arm around her as he said: + +"Come and see where I live." + +He made her cross the Clos-Marie, among the wild grass and herbs, and +then she understood for the first time in what way he had come every +night into the field from the park of the Bishop's Palace. It was +through an old gate, that had been unused for a long time, and which +this evening he had left half open. Taking Angelique's hand, he led +her in that way into the great garden of the Monseigneur. + +The rising moon was half-hidden in the sky, under a veil of warm mist, +and its rays fell down upon them with a white, mysterious light. There +were no stars visible, but the whole vault of heaven was filled with a +dim lustre, which quietly penetrated everything in this serene night. +Slowly they walked along on the borders of the Chevrotte, which +crossed the park; but it was no longer the rapid rivulet rushing over +a pebbly descent--it was a quiet, languid brook, gliding along through +clumps of trees. Under this mass of luminous vapour, between the +bushes which seemed to bathe and float therein, it was like an Elysian +stream which unfolded itself before them. + +Angelique soon resumed her gay chattering. + +"I am so proud and so happy to be here on your arm." + +Felicien, touched by such artless, frank simplicity, listened with +delight as she talked unrestrainedly, concealing nothing, but telling +all her inmost thoughts, as she opened her heart to him. Why should +she even think of keeping anything back? She had never harmed anyone, +so she had only good things to say. + +"Ah, my dear child, it is I who ought to be exceedingly grateful to +you, inasmuch as you are willing to love me a little in so sweet a +way. Tell me once more how much you love me. Tell me exactly what you +thought when you found out at last who I really was." + +But with a pretty, impatient movement she interrupted him. + +"No, no; let us talk of you, only of you. Am I really of any +consequence? At all events, what matters it who I am or what I think! +For the moment you are the only one of importance." + +And keeping as near him as possible, going more slowly along the sides +of the enchanted river, she questioned him incessantly, wishing to +learn everything about him, of his childhood, his youth, and the +twenty years he had passed away from his father. "I already know that +your mother died when you were an infant, and that you grew up under +the care of an uncle who is a clergyman. I also know that Monseigneur +refused to see you again." + +Then Felicien answered, speaking in a very low tone, with a voice that +seemed as if it came from the far-away past. + +"Yes, my father idolised my mother, and it seemed to him as if I were +guilty, since my birth had cost her her life. My uncle brought me up +in entire ignorance of my family, harshly too, as if I had been a poor +child confided to his care. I had no idea of my true position until +very recently. It is scarcely two years, in fact, since it was +revealed to me. But I was not at all surprised in hearing the truth; +it seemed as if I had always half-realised that a great fortune +belonged to me. All regular work wearied me; I was good for nothing +except to run about the fields and amuse myself. At last I took a +great fancy for the painted windows of our little church." Angelique +interrupted him by laughing gaily, and he joined her in her mirth for +a moment. + +"I became a workman like yourself. I had fully decided to earn my +living by painting on glass, and was studying for that purpose, when +all this fortune poured down upon me. My father was intensely +disappointed when my uncle wrote him that I was a good-for-nothing +fellow, and that I would never consent to enter into the service of +the Church. It had been his expressed wish that I should become a +clergyman; perhaps he had an idea that in so doing I could atone for +the death of my mother. He became, however, reconciled at last, and +wished for me to be here and remain near him. Ah! how good it is to +live, simply to live," he exclaimed. "Yes, to live, to love, and to be +loved in return." + +This trembling cry, which resounded in the clear night air, vibrated +with the earnest feeling of his healthy youth. It was full of passion, +of sympathy for his dead mother, and of the intense ardour he had +thrown into this, his first love, born of mystery. It filled all his +spirit, his beauty, his loyalty, his ignorance, and his earnest desire +of life. + +"Like you," he continued, "I was, indeed, expecting the unknown, and +the evening when you first appeared at the window I also recognised +you at once. Tell me all that you have ever thought, and what you were +in the habit of doing in the days that have passed." But again she +refused, saying gently: + +"No; speak only of yourself. I am eager to know every petty incident +of your life, so please keep nothing back. In that way I shall realise +that you belong to me, and that I love you in the past as well as in +the present." + +She never would have been fatigued in listening to him as he talked of +his life, but was in a state of joyous ecstasy in thus becoming +thoroughly acquainted with him, adoring him like a little child at the +feet of some saint. Neither of them wearied of repeating the same +things: how much they loved each other and how dearly they were +beloved in return. The same words returned constantly to their lips, +but they always seemed new, as they assumed unforeseen, immeasurable +depths of meaning. Their happiness increased as they thus made known +the secrets of their hearts, and lingered over the music of the words +that passed their lips. He confessed to her the charm her voice had +always been to him, so much so that as soon as he heard it he became +at once her devoted slave. She acknowledged the delicious fear she +always had at seeing his pale face flush at the slightest anger or +displeasure. + +They had now left the misty banks of the Chevrotte, and arm-in-arm +they entered under the shadows of the great elm-trees. + +"Oh! this beautiful garden," whispered Angelique, happy to breathe in +the freshness which fell from the trees. "For years I have wished to +enter it; and now I am here with you--yes, I am here." + +It did not occur to her to ask him where he was leading her, but she +gave herself up to his guidance, under the darkness of these +centenarian trees. The ground was soft under their feet; the archway +of leaves above them was high, like the vaulted ceiling of a church. +There was neither sound nor breath, only the beating of their own +hearts. + +At length he pushed open the door of a little pavilion, and said to +her: "Go in; this is my home." + +It was there that his father had seen fit to install him all by +himself, in this distant corner of the park. On the first floor there +was a hall, and one very large room, which was now lighted by a great +lamp. Above was a complete little apartment. + +"You can see for yourself," he continued smilingly, "that you are at +the house of an artisan. This is my shop." + +It was a working-room indeed; the caprice of a wealthy young man, who +amused himself in his leisure hours by painting on glass. He had +re-found the ancient methods of the thirteenth century, so that he +could fancy himself as being one of the primitive glass-workers, +producing masterpieces with the poor, unfinished means of the older +time. An ancient table answered all his purposes. It was coated with +moist, powdered chalk, upon which he drew his designs in red, and +where he cut the panes with heated irons, disdaining the modern use of +a diamond point. The muffle, a little furnace made after the fashion +of an old model, was just now quite heated; the baking of some picture +was going on, which was to be used in repairing another stained window +in the Cathedral; and in cases on every side were glasses of all +colours which he had ordered to be made expressly for him, in blue, +yellow, green, and red, in many lighter tints, marbled, smoked, +shaded, pearl-coloured, and black. But the walls of the room were hung +with admirable stuffs, and the working materials disappeared in the +midst of a marvellous luxury of furniture. In one corner, on an old +tabernacle which served as a pedestal, a great gilded statue of the +Blessed Virgin seemed to smile upon them. + +"So you can work--you really can work," repeated Angelique with +childish joy. + +She was very much amused with the little furnace, and insisted upon it +that he should explain to her everything connected with his labour. +Why he contented himself with the examples of the old masters, who +used glass coloured in the making, which he shaded simply with black; +the reason he limited himself to little, distinct figures, to the +gestures and draperies of which he gave a decided character; his ideas +upon the art of the glass-workers, which in reality declined as soon +as they began to design better, to paint, and to enamel it; and his +final opinion that a stained-glass window should be simply a +transparent mosaic, in which the brightest colours should be arranged +in the most harmonious order, so as to make a delicate, shaded +bouquet. But at this moment little did she care for the art in itself. +These things had but one interest for her now--that they were +connected with him, that they seemed to bring her nearer to him and to +strengthen the tie between them. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, "how happy we shall be together. You will paint, +while I embroider." + +He had just retaken her hands, in the centre of this great room, in +the luxury of which she was quite at her ease, as it seemed to be her +natural surrounding, where her grace would be fully developed. Both of +them remained silent for a moment. Then she was, as usual, the first +to speak. + +"Now everything is decided upon, is it not?" + +"What?" he smilingly asked, "what do you mean?" + +"Our marriage." + +He hesitated an instant. His face, which had been very pale, flushed +quickly. She was disturbed at such a change. + +"Have I made you angry in any way?" + +But he had already conquered himself, and pressed her hands tenderly, +with a grasp that seemed to cover everything. + +"Yes, it is decided upon, and it is sufficient for you to wish for a +thing that it should be done, no matter how many obstacles may oppose +it. Henceforward my one great desire in life will be to obey you." + +Then her face beamed with perfect happiness and delight. + +She did not have a single doubt. All seemed to her quite natural, to +be so well-arranged that it could be finished on the morrow with the +same ease as in many of the miracles of the "Golden Legend." The idea +never occurred to her that there should be the slightest hindrance or +the least delay. Since they really loved each other, why should they +be any longer separated? It was the most simple thing in the world for +two persons who loved each other to be married. She was so secure in +her happiness that she was perfectly calm. + +"Since it is agreed upon," she said jokingly, "give me your hand." + +He took her little hand and kissed it, as he said: + +"It is all arranged." + +She then hastened to go away, in the fear of being surprised by the +dawn, and also impatient to relieve her mind of her secret. He wished +to accompany her. + +"No, no," she replied. "We should not get back before daylight. I can +easily find the way. Good-bye until to-morrow." + +"Until to-morrow, then." + +Felicien obeyed, and watched Angelique as she ran, first under the +shady elms, then along the banks of the Chevrotte, which were now +bathed in light. Soon she closed the gate of the park, then darted +across the Clos-Marie, through the high grass. While on her way, she +thought it would be impossible to wait until sunrise, but that she +would rap at the door of the Huberts' room as soon as she reached +home, that she might wake them up and tell them everything. She was in +such an expansion of happiness, such a turmoil of sincerity, that she +realised that she was incapable of keeping five minutes longer this +great secret which had been hers for so long a time. She entered into +their garden and closed the gate. + +And there, near the Cathedral, Angelique saw Hubertine, who waited for +her in the night, seated upon the stone bench, which was surrounded by +a small cluster of lilac-bushes. Awakened, warned by some +inexpressible feeling, she had gone upstairs, then down again, and on +finding all the doors open, that of the chamber as well as that of the +house, she had understood what had happened. So, uncertain what it was +best to do, or where to go, in the fear lest she might aggravate +matters, she sat down anxiously. + +Angelique immediately ran to her, without embarrassment, kissed her +repeatedly, her heart beating with joy as she laughed merrily at the +thought that she had no longer need of hiding anything from her. + +"Oh, mother mine, everything is arranged! We are to be married very +soon, and I am so happy." + +Before replying, Hubertine examined her closely. But her fears +vanished instantly before the limpid eyes and the pure lips of this +exquisite young girl. Yet she was deeply troubled, and great tears +rolled down her cheeks. + +"My poor, dear child," she whispered, as she had done the previous +evening in church. + +Astonished to see her in such a way, she who was always so equable, +who never wept, Angelique exclaimed: + +"But what is the matter, mother? It is, indeed, true that I have not +done right, inasmuch as I have not made you my confidante. But you +would pardon me if you knew how much I have suffered from it, and how +keen my remorse has been. Since at first I did not speak, later on I +did not dare to break the silence. Will you forgive me?" + +She had seated herself near her mother, and had placed her arm +caressingly around her waist. The old bench seemed almost hidden in +this moss-covered corner of the Cathedral. Above their heads the +lilacs made a little shade, while near them was the bush of eglantine +which the young girl had set out in the hope that it might bear roses; +but, having been neglected for some time, it simply vegetated, and had +returned to its natural state. + +"Mother, let me tell you everything now. Come, listen to me, please." + + + + CHAPTER XII + +Then, in a low tone, Angelique began her story. She related in a flow +of inexhaustible words all that had happened, calling up the most +minute details, growing more and more excited at the recollection of +them. She omitted nothing, but searched her memory as if it were for a +confession. She was not at all embarrassed, although her cheeks grew +very red and her eyes sparkled with flashes of pride; yet she did not +raise her voice, but continued to talk earnestly in a half-whisper. + +At length Hubertine interrupted her, speaking also very low: + +"Ah, my dear! Now you are too excited. You have indeed to correct +yourself, for you are carried away by your feelings, as if by a great +wind. Ah, my vain, my headstrong child, you are always the same little +girl who refused to wash up the kitchen floor, and who kissed her own +hands." + +Angelique could not prevent herself from laughing. + +"No, do not laugh. It may be that by-and-by you will not have tears +enough to weep. My poor darling, this marriage can never take place." + +Again her gaiety burst out in a long musical laugh. + +"But mother, mother, what are you saying? Do you wish to punish me by +teasing me? It is a very simple matter. This evening Felicien is to +talk of it with his father. To-morrow he will come to arrange +everything with you." + +Could it be true that she believed all this? Hubertine was distressed, +and knew not what to do. At last she concluded it was best to be +pitiless and tell her; that it would be impossible for a little +embroiderer without money and without name to marry Felicien +d'Hautecoeur. A young man who was worth so many millions! The last +descendant of one of the oldest families of France! No, that could +never be. + +But at each new obstacle Angelique tranquilly replied: "But why not?" +It would be a real scandal, a marriage beyond all ordinary conditions +of happiness. Did she hope, then, to contend against all the world? +"But why not?" Monseigneur is called very strict and very haughty, +proud of his name, and severe in his criticisms in regard to all marks +of affection. Could she dare to expect to bend him? + +"But why not?" And, unshakable in her faith, in her firm, ingenuous +manner she said: "It is very odd, dear mother, that you should think +people all so bad! Especially when I have just assured you that +everything is well under way, and is sure to come out all right. Do +you not recollect that only two months ago you scolded me, and +ridiculed my plans? Yet I was right, and everything that I expected +has come to pass." + +"But, unhappy child, wait for the end!" + +Hubertine now thought of the past, and was angry with herself, as she +now reflected, more bitterly than ever before, that Angelique had been +brought up in such ignorance. Again she predicted to her the hard +lessons of the reality of life, and she would have liked to have +explained to her some of the cruelties and abominations of the world, +but, greatly embarrassed, she could not find the necessary words. What +a grief it would be to her if some day she were forced to accuse +herself of having brought about the unhappiness of this child, who had +been kept alone as a recluse, and allowed to dwell in the continued +falsehood of imagination and dreams! + +"Listen to me, dearest. You certainly would not wish to marry this +young man against the wish of us all, and without the consent of his +father?" + +Angelique had grown very serious. She looked her mother in the face, +and in a serious tone replied: + +"Why should I not do so? I love him, and he loves me." + +With a pang of anguish, Hubertine took her again in her arms, clasped +her tenderly, but convulsively, and looked at her earnestly, but +without speaking. The pale moon had disappeared from sight behind the +Cathedral, and the flying, misty clouds were now delicately coloured +in the heavens by the approach of the dawn. They were both of them +enveloped in this purity of the early morn, in the great fresh +silence, which was alone disturbed by the little chirping of the just- +awakening birds. + +"But alas! my dear child, happiness is only found in obedience and in +humility. For one little hour of passion, or of pride, we sometimes +are obliged to suffer all our lives. If you wish to be contented on +this earth, be submissive, be ready to renounce and give up +everything." + +But feeling that she was still rebellious under her embrace, that +which she had never said to anyone, that which she still hesitated to +speak of, almost involuntarily escaped from her lips: + +"Listen to me once more, my dear child. You think that we are happy, +do you not, your father and I. We should indeed be so had not our +lives been embittered by a great vexation." + +She lowered her voice still more, as she related with a trembling +breath their history. The marriage without the consent of her mother, +the death of their infant, and their vain desire to have another +child, which was evidently the punishment of their fault. Still, they +adored each other. They had lived by working, had wanted for nothing; +but their regret for the child they had lost was so ever-present that +they would have been wretchedly unhappy, would have quarrelled, and +perhaps even have been separated, had it not been that her husband was +so thoroughly good, while for herself she had always tried to be just +and reasonable. + +"Reflect, my daughter. Do not put any stumbling-block in your path +which will make you suffer later on. Be humble, obey, check the +impulse of your heart as much as possible." + +Subdued at last, Angelique restrained her tears, but grew very pale as +she listened, and interrupted her by saying: + +"Mother, you pain me terribly. I love him, and I am sure that he loves +me." + +Then she allowed her tears to flow. She was quite overcome by all she +had listened to, softened, and with an expression in her eyes as if +deeply wounded by the glimpse given her of the probable truth of the +case. Yet she could suffer, and would willingly die, if need be, for +her love. + +Then Hubertine decided to continue. + +"I do not wish to pain you too deeply at once, yet it is absolutely +necessary that you should know the whole truth. Last evening, after +you had gone upstairs, I had quite a talk with the Abbe Cornille, and +he explained to me why Monseigneur, after great hesitation, had at +last decided to call his son to Beaumont. One of his greatest troubles +was the impetuosity of the young man, the uncontrollable haste which +he manifested to plunge into the excitement of life, without listening +to the advice of his elders. After having with pain renounced all hope +of making him a priest, his father found that he could not establish +him in any occupation suitable to his rank and his fortune. He would +never be anything but a headstrong fellow, restless, wandering, +yielding to his artistic tastes when so inclined. He was alarmed at +seeing in his son traits of character like those from which he himself +had so cruelly suffered. At last, from fear that he might take some +foolish step, and fall in love with someone beneath him in position, +he wished to have him here, that he might be married at once." + +"Very well," said Angelique, who did not yet understand. + +"Such a marriage had been proposed even before his arrival, and all +preliminaries were settled yesterday, so that the Abbe Cornille +formally announced that in the autumn Felicien would wed Mademoiselle +Claire de Voincourt. You know very well the Hotel de Voincourt there, +close to the Bishop's Palace. The family are very intimate with +Monseigneur. On both sides, nothing better could be hoped for, either +in the way of name or of fortune. The Abbe himself highly approves of +the union." + +The young girl no longer listened to these reasons of the fitness of +things. Suddenly an image appeared to come before her eyes--that of +Claire. She saw her, as she had occasionally had a glimpse of her in +the alleys of the Park during the winter, or as she had seen her on +fete days in the Cathedral. A tall young lady, a brunette, very +handsome, of a much more striking beauty than her own, and with a +royal bearing and appearance. Notwithstanding her haughty air, she was +said to be very good and kind. + +"So he is to marry this elegant young lady, who is not only beautiful +but very rich," she murmured. + +Then, as if suddenly pierced by a sharp agony, she exclaimed: + +"He uttered a falsehood! He did not tell me this!" + +She recollected now the momentary hesitation of Felicien, the rush of +blood which had coloured his cheeks when she spoke to him of their +marriage. The shock was so great that she turned deadly pale, and her +head fell heavily on her mother's shoulders. + +"My darling, my dear darling! This is, indeed, a cruel thing; I know +it well. But it would have been still worse had you waited. Take +courage, then, and draw at once the knife from the wound. Repeat to +yourself, whenever the thought of this young man comes to you, that +never would Monseigneur, the terrible Jean XII, whose intractable +pride, it appears, is still recollected by all the world, give his +son, the last of his race, to a little embroiderer, found under a +gateway and adopted by poor people like ourselves." + +In her weakness, Angelique heard all this without making any +objection. What was it she felt pass over her face? A cold breath +coming from a distance, from far above the roofs of the houses, seemed +to freeze her blood. Was it true that her mother was telling her of +this misery of the world, this sad reality, in the same way that +parents relate the story of the wolf to unreasonable children? She +would never forget the shock and the grief of this first experience of +a bitter disappointment. Yet, however, she already excused Felicien. +He had told no falsehood; he simply had been silent. Were his father +to wish him to marry this young girl, no doubt he would refuse to do +so. But as yet he had not dared to rebel. As he had not said anything +to her of the matter, perhaps it was because he had just made up his +mind as to what it was best for him to do. Before this sudden +vanishing away of her air-castles, pale and weak from the rude touch +of the actual life, she still kept her faith, and trusted, in spite of +all, in the future realisation of her dream. Eventually the fair +promises for the future would come to pass, even although now her +pride was crushed and she sank down into a state of humiliation and +resignation. + +"Mother, it is true I have done wrong, but I will never sin again. I +promise you that I will be patient, and submit myself without a murmur +of revolt to whatever Heaven wishes me to be." + +It was true grace which spoke within her. The trial was great, but she +was able to conquer, from the effects of the education she had +received and the excellent example of the home life in which she had +grown up. Why should she doubt the morrow, when until this present +moment everyone near her had been so generous and so tender towards +her? She prayed that she might be able to have the wisdom of +Catherine, the meekness of Elizabeth, the chastity of Agnes; and +re-comforted by the aid of the saints, she was sure that they alone +would help her to triumph over every trouble. Was it not true that her +old friends the Cathedral, the Clos-Marie, and the Chevrotte, the +little fresh house of the Huberts, the Huberts themselves, all who +loved her, would defend her, without her being obliged to do anything, +except to be obedient and good? + +"Then, dear child, you promise me that you will never act contrary to +our wishes, and above all against those of Monseigneur?" + +"Yes, mother, I promise." + +"You also promise me not to see this young man again, and no longer to +indulge in the foolish idea of marrying him?" + +At this question her courage failed her. She almost felt the spirit of +rebellion rise again within her, as she thought of the depth of her +love. But in a moment she bowed her head and was definitely conquered. + +"I promise to do nothing to bring about a meeting with him, and to +take no steps towards our marriage." + +Hubertine, touched to the heart, pressed the young girl most +affectionately in her arms as she thanked her for her obedience. Oh! +what a dreadful thing it was, when wishing to do good to the child she +so tenderly loved, she was forced to make her suffer so intensely. She +was exhausted, and rose up hastily, surprised that daylight had come. +The little cry of the birds had increased in every direction, although +as yet none were to be seen in flight. In the sky the clouds, delicate +as gauze, seemed to float away in the limpid blueness of the +atmosphere. + +Then Angelique, whose look had mechanically fallen upon her wild rose- +bush, at last noticed it with its puny leaves. She smiled sadly as she +said: + +"You were right, mother dear; it will never be in blossom." + +At seven o'clock in the morning Angelique was at her work as usual. +The days followed each other, and every forenoon found her seated +before the chasuble she had left on the previous evening. Nothing +appeared to be changed outwardly; she kept strictly her promise, shut +herself up, and made no attempt whatever to see Felicien. This did not +seem to depress her at all, but she kept her bright, youthful look, +smiling sweetly at Hubertine when occasionally she saw her eyes fixed +upon her as if astonished. However, in this enforced silence she +thought only of him; he was always in her mind. + +Her hope remained firm, and she was sure that in spite of all +obstacles everything would come out all right in the end. In fact, it +was this feeling of certainty that gave her such an air of courage, of +haughty rectitude, and of justice. + +Hubert from time to time scolded her. + +"You are over-doing, my dear; you are really growing pale. I hope at +least that you sleep well at night." + +"Oh yes, father! Like a log! Never in my life did I feel better than +now." + +But Hubertine, becoming anxious in her turn, proposed that they should +take a little vacation, and said: + +"If you would like it, my child, we will shut up the house, and we +will go, all three of us, to Paris for a while." + +"Oh! mother mine, of what are you thinking? What would become of all +our orders for work? You know I am never in better health than when +closely occupied." + +In reality, Angelique simply awaited a miracle, some manifestation of +the Invisible which would give her to Felicien. In addition to the +fact that she had promised to do nothing, what need was there of her +striving, since in the beyond some unknown power was always working +for her? So, in her voluntary inaction, while feigning indifference, +she was continually on the watch, listening to the voices of all that +quivered around her, and to the little familiar sounds of this circle +in which she lived and which would assuredly help her. Something must +eventually come from necessity. As she leaned over her embroidery- +frame, not far from the open window, she lost not a trembling of the +leaves, not a murmur of the Chevrotte. The slightest sighs from the +Cathedral came to her, magnified tenfold by the eagerness of her +attention; she even heard the slippers of the beadle as he walked +round the altar when putting out the tapers. Again at her side she +felt the light touch of mysterious wings; she knew that she was aided +by the unknown, and at times she even turned suddenly, thinking that a +phantom had whispered in her ear the way of gaining the hoped-for +victory. But days passed and no change came. + +At night, that she need not break her word, Angelique at first did not +go out upon the balcony, for fear of being tempted to rejoin Felicien, +were she to see him below her. She remained quietly waiting in her +chamber. Then, as the leaves even scarcely stirred, but seemed to +sleep, she ventured out, and began to question the dark shadows as +before. + +From whence would the miracle come? Without doubt, in the Bishop's +garden would be seen a flaming hand, which would beckon to her to +approach. + +Or, perhaps, the sign would appear in the Cathedral, the great organs +of which would peal forth, and would call her to the altar. + +Nothing would have surprised her: neither the doves of the "Golden +Legend" bringing the words of benediction, nor the intervention of +saints, who would enter through the walls, to tell her that +Monseigneur wished to see her. The only thing at which she wondered +was the slowness of the working of the marvel. Like the day, the +nights succeeded nights, yet nothing, nothing manifested itself. + +At the close of the second week, that which astonished Angelique above +all was that she had not seen Felicien. She, it was true, had pledged +herself to take no steps towards meeting him, yet, without having said +so to anyone, she thought he would do all in his power to find her. +But the Clos-Marie remained deserted, and he no longer walked among +the wild grasses therein. Not once during the past fortnight had she +had a glimpse of him by day, or even seen his shadow in the evening. +Still her faith remained unshaken; that he did not come was simply +that he was occupied in making his preparations to rejoin her. +However, as her surprise increased there was at length mingled with it +a beginning of anxiety. + +At last, one evening the dinner was sad at the embroiderer's, and as +soon as it was over Hubert went out, under the pretext of having an +important commission to attend to, so Hubertine remained alone with +Angelique in the kitchen. She looked at her for a long time with +moistened eyes, touched by such courage. During the past fortnight not +one word had been exchanged between them in reference to those things +with which their hearts were full, and she was deeply moved by the +strength of character and loyalty her daughter displayed in thus +keeping her promise. A sudden feeling of deep tenderness made her open +her arms, and the young girl threw herself upon her breast, and in +silence they clasped each other in a loving embrace. + +Then, when Hubertine was able to speak, she said: + +"Ah! my poor child, I have been impatient to be alone with you, for +you must know that now all is at an end; yes, quite at an end." + +Startled, Angelique rose quickly, exclaiming: + +"What! Is Felicien dead?" + +"No! oh no!" + +"If he will never come again, it is only that he is dead." + +So Hubertine was obliged to explain to her that the day after the +procession she had been to see him, and had made him also promise that +he would keep way from them until he had the full authorisation of +Monseigneur to do otherwise. It was thus a definite leave-taking, for +she knew a marriage would be utterly impossible. She had made him +almost distracted as she explained to him how wrongly he had done in +thus compromising a young, ignorant, confiding child, whom he would +not be allowed to make his wife; and then he had assured her, that if +he could not see her again, he would die from grief, rather than be +disloyal. + +That same evening he confessed everything to his father. + +"You see, my dear," continued Hubertine, "you are so courageous that I +can repeat to you all I know without hesitation. Oh! if you realised, +my darling, how I pity you, and what admiration I have for you since I +have found you so strong, so brave in keeping silent and in appearing +gay when your heart was heavily burdened. But you will have need of +even more firmness; yes, much more, my dear. This afternoon I have +seen the Abbe Cornille, and he gives me no encouragement whatever. +Monseigneur refuses to listen to the subject, so there is no more +hope." + +She expected a flood of fears, and she was astonished to see her +daughter reseat herself tranquilly, although she had turned very pale. +The old oaken table had been cleared, and a lamp lighted up this +ancient servants' hall, the quiet of which was only disturbed by the +humming of the boiler. + +"Mother, dear, the end has not yet come. Tell me everything, I beg of +you. Have I not a right to know all, since I am the one above all +others most deeply interested in the matter?" + +And she listened attentively to what Hubertine thought best to tell +her of what she had learned from the Abbe, keeping back only certain +details of the life which was as yet an unknown thing to this innocent +child. + + + + CHAPTER XIII + +Since the return of his son to him Monseigneur's days had been full of +trouble. After having banished him from his presence almost +immediately upon the death of his wife, and remaining without seeing +him for twenty years, lo! he had now come back to him in the plenitude +and lustre of youth, the living portrait of the one he had so mourned, +with the same delicate grace and beauty. This long exile, this +resentment against a child whose life had cost that of the mother, was +also an act of prudence. He realised it doubly now, and regretted that +he had changed his determination of not seeing him again. Age, twenty +years of prayer, his life as clergyman, had not subdued the +unregenerate man within him. It was simply necessary that this son of +his, this child of the wife he had so adored, should appear with his +laughing blue eyes, to make the blood circulate so rapidly in his +veins as if it would burst them, as he seemed to think that the dead +had been brought to life again. He struck his breast, he sobbed +bitterly in penitence, as he remembered that the joys of married life +and the ties springing therefrom were prohibited to the priesthood. +The good Abbe Cornille had spoken of all this to Hubertine in a low +voice and with trembling lips. Mysterious sounds had been heard, and +it was whispered that Monseigneur shut himself up after twilight, and +passed nights of combat, of tears and of cries, the violence of which, +although partly stifled by the hangings of his room, yet frightened +the members of his household. He thought that he had forgotten; that +he had conquered passion; but it reappeared with the violence of a +tempest, reminding him of the terrible man he had been formerly--the +bold adventurer, the descendant of brave, legendary chieftains. Each +evening on his knees he flayed his skin with haircloth, he tried to +banish the phantom of the regretted wife by calling from its coffin +the skeleton which must now be there. But she constantly appeared +before him, living, in the delicious freshness of youth, such as she +was when very young he had first met her and loved her with the +devoted affection of maturity. The torture then recommenced as keen +and intense as on the day after her death: he mourned her, he longed +for her with the same revolt against God Who had taken her from him; +he was unable to calm himself until the break of day, when quite +exhausted by contempt of himself and disgust of all the world. Oh! +Divine love! When he went out of his room Monseigneur resumed his +severe attitude, his expression was calm and haughty, and his face was +only slightly pale. The morning when Felicien had made his confession +he listened to him without interruption, controlling himself with so +great an effort that not a fibre of his body quivered, and he looked +earnestly at him, distressed beyond measure to see him, so young, so +handsome, so eager, and so like himself in this folly of impetuous +love. It was no longer with bitterness, but it was his absolute will, +his hard duty to save his son from the ills which had caused him so +much suffering, and he would destroy the passion in his child as he +wished to kill it in himself. This romantic history ended by giving +him great anxiety. Could it be true that a poor girl--a child without +a name, a little embroiderer, first seen under a pale ray of +moonlight, had been transfigured into a delicate Virgin of the +Legends, and adored with a fervent love as if in a dream? At each new +acknowledgment he thought his anger was increased, as his heart beat +with such an inordinate emotion, and he redoubled his attempts at +self-control, knowing not what cry might come to his lips. He had +finished by replying with a single word, "Never!" Then Felicien threw +himself on his knees before him, implored him, and pleaded his cause +as well as that of Angelique, in the trembling of respect and of +terror with which the sight of his father always filled him. Until +then he had approached him only with fear. He besought him not to +oppose his happiness, without even daring to lift his eyes towards his +saintly personage. With a submissive voice he offered to go away, no +matter where; to leave all his great fortune to the Church, and to +take his wife so far from there that they would never be seen again. +He only wished to love and to be loved, unknown. Monseigneur shook +from trembling as he repeated severely the word, "Never!" He had +pledged himself to the Voincourts, and he would never break his +engagement with them. Then Felicien, quite discouraged, realising that +he was very angry, went away, fearing lest the rush of blood, which +empurpled his cheeks, might make him commit the sacrilege of an open +revolt against paternal authority. + +"My child," concluded Hubertine, "you can easily understand that you +must no longer think of this young man, for you certainly would not +wish to act in opposition to the wishes of Monseigneur. I knew that +beforehand, but I preferred that the facts should speak for +themselves, and that no obstacle should appear to come from me." + +Angelique had listened to all this calmly, with her hands listlessly +clasped in her lap. Scarcely had she even dropped her eyelids from +time to time, as with fixed looks she saw the scene so vividly +described--Felicien at the feet of Monseigneur, speaking of her in an +overflow of tenderness. She did not answer immediately, but continued +to think seriously, in the dead quiet of the kitchen, where even the +little bubbling sound of the water in the boiler was no longer heard. +She lowered her eyes and looked as her hands, which, under the +lamplight, seemed as if made of beautiful ivory. Then, while the smile +of perfect confidence came back to her lips, she said simply: + +"If Monseigneur refuses, it is because he waits to know me." + +That night Angelique slept but little. The idea that to see her would +enable at once Monseigneur to decide in her favor haunted her. There +was in it no personal, feminine vanity, but she was under the +influence of a deep, intense love, and her true affection for Felicien +was so evident, she was sure that when his father realised it he could +not be so obstinate as to make them both unhappy. Many times she +turned restlessly in her bed as she pictured what would happen. Before +her closed eyes Monseigneur constantly passed in his violet-coloured +robe. Perhaps it was, indeed, through him, and by him, that the +expected miracle was to appear. The warm night was sleeping without, +and she eagerly listened for the voices, trying to know what the +trees, the Chevrotte, the Cathedral, her chamber itself, peopled with +such friendly shadows, advised her to do. But there was only an +indistinct humming, and nothing precise came to her. It seemed, +however, as if mysterious whispers encouraged her to persevere. At +last she grew impatient of these too slow certitudes, and as she fell +asleep she surprised herself by saying: + +"To-morrow I will speak to Monseigneur." + +When she awoke, her proposed plan seemed not only quite natural but +necessary. It was ingenuous and brave; born of a proud and great +purity. + +She knew that at five o'clock on every Saturday afternoon Monseigneur +went to kneel in the Chapel Hautecoeur, where he liked to pray alone, +giving himself up entirely to the past of his race and to himself, +seeking a solitude which was respected by all connected with the +Cathedral. As it fortunately happened, this was a Saturday. She +quickly came to a decision. At the Bishop's Palace, not only would she +be apt to find it difficult to be received, but, on the other hand, +there were always so many people about she would be ill at ease; +whilst it would be so simple to await him in the chapel, and to +introduce herself to Monseigneur as soon as he appeared. That day she +embroidered with her usual application and composure. Firm in her +wish, sure of doing the right thing, she had no impatient fever of +expectation. When it was four o'clock she spoke of going to see the +_mere_ Gabet, and went out, dressed as for an ordinary walk, wearing +her little garden-hat tied carelessly under her chin. She turned to +the left, and pushing open the linted, stuffed door of the portal of +Saint Agnes, let it fall back heavily behind her. + +The church was empty; alone, the confessional of Saint Joseph was +still occupied by a penitent, the edge of whose black dress was just +seen as one passed. Angelique, who had been perfectly self-possessed +until now, began to tremble as she entered this sacred, cold solitude, +where even the little sound of her steps seemed to echo terribly. Why +was it that her heart grew so oppressed? She had thought she was quite +strong, and the day had passed most peacefully--she was so sure of +being right in her desire to be happy. But now that she was ignorant +of what might happen she turned pale as if guilty, quite frightened at +thinking that she was to see Monseigneur, and that in truth she had +come there expressly to speak to him. She went quietly to the Chapel +Hautecoeur, where she was obliged to remain leaning against the gate. + +This chapel was one of the most sunken and dark of the old Romanesque +apse. Like a cave hewn in a rock, straight and bare, with the simple +lines of its low, vaulted ceiling, it had but one window, that of +stained glass, on which was the Legend of St. George, and in whose +panes the red and blue so predominated that they made a lilac-coloured +light, as if it were twilight. The altar, in black and white marble, +was unornamented, and the whole place, with its picture of the +Crucifixion, and its two chandeliers, seemed like a tomb. The walls +were covered with commemorative tablets, a collection from top to +bottom of stones crumbling from age, on which the deeply-cut +inscriptions could still be read. + +Almost stifled, Angelique waited, motionless. A beadle passed, who did +not even see her, so closely had she pressed herself against the +interior of the iron railing. She still saw the dress of the penitent +who was at the confessional near the entrance. Her eyes, gradually +accustomed to the half-light, were mechanically fixed upon the +inscriptions, the characters of which she ended by deciphering. +Certain names struck her, calling back to her memory the legends of +the Chateau d'Hautecoeur, of Jean V le Grand, of Raoul III, and of +Herve VII. + +She soon found two others, those of Laurette and of Balbine, which +brought tears to her eyes, so nervous was she from trouble and +anxiety--Laurette, who fell from a ray of moonlight, on her way to +rejoin her betrothed, and Balbine, who died from sudden joy at the +return of her husband, whom she thought had been killed in the war. +They both of them came back at night and enveloped the Castle with +their immense, flowing white robes. Had she not seen them herself the +day of their visit to the ruins, as they floated, towards evening, +above the towers in the rosy pallor of the dusk? Ah! how willingly she +would die as they did, although but sixteen years of age, in the +supreme happiness of the realisation of her dream! + +A loud noise which reverberated under the arches made her tremble. It +was the priest who came out from the confessional of Saint Joseph and +shut the door after him. She was surprised at no longer seeing the +penitent, who had already gone. And when in his turn the clergyman +went out by way of the sacristy, she realised that she was absolutely +alone in the vast solitude of the Cathedral. At the loud sound of the +door of the confessional, as it creaked on its hinges, she thought +that Monseigneur was coming. It was nearly half an hour since she had +expected him, yet she did not realise it, for her excitement prevented +her from taking any note of time. + +Soon a new name drew her eyes towards the tablets--Felicien III, who +went to Palestine, carrying a candle in his hand, to fulfil a vow of +Philippe le Bel. And her heart beat with pride as she saw before her, +mentally, the youthful Felicien VII, the descendant of all these +worthies, the fair-haired nobleman whom she adored, and by whom she +was so tenderly loved. She suddenly became filled with pride and fear. +Was it possible that she herself was there, in the expectation of +bringing about a prodigy? Opposite her there was a fresher plaque of +marble, dating from the last century, the black letters upon which she +could easily read. Norbert Louis Ogier, Marquis d'Hautecoeur, Prince +of Mirande and of Rouvres, Count of Ferrieres, of Montegu and of Saint +Marc, and also of Villemareuil, Chevalier of the four Royal Orders of +Saint Esprit, Saint Michel, Notre Dame de Carmel and Saint Louis, +Lieutenant in the Army of the King, Governor of Normandy, holding +office as Captain-General of the Hunting, and Master of the Hounds. +All these were the titles of Felicien's grandfather, and yet she had +come, so simple, with her working-dress and her fingers worn by the +needle, in hopes of marrying the grandson of this dead dignitary! + +There was a slight sound, scarcely a rustling, on the flagstones. She +turned and saw Monseigneur, and remained motionless at this silent +approach without the pomp and surroundings she had vaguely expected. +He entered into the chapel, tall, erect, and noble-looking, dressed in +purple, with his pale face, his rather large nose, and his superb +eyes, which still seemed youthful in their expression. At first he did +not notice her against the black gate. Then, as he was about to kneel +down, he saw her before him at his feet. + +With trembling limbs, overcome by respect and fear, Angelique had +fallen upon her knees. He seemed to her at this moment like the +Eternal Father, terrible in aspect and absolute master of her destiny. +But her heart was still courageous, and she spoke at once. + +"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come----" + +As for the Bishop, he had risen immediately. He had a vague +recollection of her; the young girl, seen first at her window on the +day of the procession, and re-found a little later standing on a chair +in the church; this little embroiderer, with whom his son was so +desperately in love. He uttered no word, he made no gesture. He +waited, stern and stiff. + +"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come on purpose that you may see me. You +have, it is true, refused to accept me, but you do not know me. And +now, here I am. Please look at me before you repel me again. I am the +one who loves, and am also beloved, and that is all. Nothing beyond +this affection. Nothing but a poor child, found at the door of this +church. You see me at your feet, little, weak, and humble. If I +trouble you it will be very easy for you to send me away. You have +only to lift your little finger to crush me. But think of my tears! +Were you to know how I have suffered, you would be compassionate. I +wished, Monseigneur, to plead my cause in my turn. I love, and that is +why I kneel before you, to tell you so. I am ignorant in many ways; I +only know I love. All my strength and all my pride is centred in that +fact. Is not that sufficient? It certainly makes one great and good to +be able to say that one really loves." + +She continued with sighs, and in broken phrases, to confess everything +to him, in an unaffected outpouring of ardent feeling. It was a true +affection that thus acknowledged itself. She dared to do so because +she was innocent and pure. Little by little she raised her head. + +"We love each other, Monseigneur. Without doubt he has already told +you how all this came to pass. As for me, I have often asked myself +the question without being able to reply to it. But we love each +other, and if it is a crime to do so, pardon it, I beseech you, for it +came from afar, from everything in short that surrounded us. When I +realised that I loved him, it was already too late to prevent it. Now, +is it possible to be angry on that account? You can keep him with you, +make him marry some other person, but you cannot prevent him from +giving me his heart. He will die without me, as I shall if obliged to +part from him. When he is not by my side I feel that he is really near +me, and that we will never be entirely separated, since we carry each +other's life with us. I have only to close my eyes to re-see him when +I wish, so firmly is his image impressed upon my soul. Our whole +natures are thus closely united for life. And could you wish to draw +us away from this union? Oh! Monseigneur, it is divine; do not try to +prevent us loving each other!" + +He looked at her in her simple working-dress, so fresh, so +unpretending, and attractive. He listened to her as she repeated the +canticle of their love in a voice that both fascinated and troubled +him, and which grew stronger by degrees. But as her garden-hat fell +upon her shoulders, her exquisite hair seemed to make a halo around +her head of fine gold, and she appeared to him, indeed, like one of +those legendary virgins of the old prayer-books, so frail was she, so +primitive, so absorbed in her deep feeling of intense and pure +affection. + +"Be good, be merciful, Monseigneur. You are the master. Do allow us to +be happy!" + +She implored him, and finding that he remained unmoved, without +speaking, she again bowed down her head. + +Oh! this unhappy child at his feet; this odour of youth that came up +from the sweet figure thus bent before him! There he saw, as it were +again, the beautiful light locks he had so fondly caressed in the days +gone by. She, whose memory still distressed him after twenty years of +penitence, had the same fresh youthfulness, the same proud expression, +and the same lily-like grace. She had re-appeared; it was she herself +who now sobbed and besought him to be tender and merciful. + +Tears had come to Angelique, yet she continued to outpour her heart. + +"And, Monseigneur, it is not only that I love him, but I also love the +nobility of his name, the lustre of his royal fortune. Yes, I know +well that being nothing, that having nothing, it seems as if I were +only desirous of his money. In a way, it is true it is also for his +wealth that I wish to marry him. I tell you this because it is +necessary that you should know me thoroughly. Ah! to become rich by +him and with him, to owe all my happiness to him, to live in the +sweetness and splendour of luxury, to be free in our loving home, and +to have no more sorrow, no misery around us! That is my ideal! Since +he has loved me I fancy myself dressed in heavy brocades, as ladies +wore in olden days; I have on my arms and around my neck strings of +pearls and precious stones; I have horses and carriages; groves in +which I take long walks, followed by pages. Whenever I think of him my +dream recommences, and I say to myself, 'This must all come to pass, +for it perfects my desire to become a queen.' Is it, then, +Monseigneur, a bad thing to love him more because he can gratify all +my childish wishing by showering down miraculous floods of gold upon +me as in fairy-tales?" + +He saw then that she rose up proudly, with a charming, stately air of +a true princess, in spite of her real simplicity. And she was always +exactly like the fair maiden of other years, with the same flower-like +delicacy, the same tender tears, clear as smiles. A species of +intoxication came from her, the warm breath of which mounted to his +face--the same shadow of a remembrance which made him at night throw +himself on his devotional chair, sobbing so deeply that he disturbed +the sacred silence of the Palace. Until three o'clock in the morning +of this same day he had contended with himself again, and this long +history of love, this story of passion, would only revive and excite +his incurable wound. But behind his impassiveness nothing was seen, +nothing betrayed his effort at self-control and his attempt to conquer +the beating of his heart. Were he to lose his life's blood, drop by +drop, no one should see it flow, and he now simply became paler, was +silent and immovable. + +At last this great persistent silence made Angelique desperate, and +she redoubled her prayers. + +"I put myself in your hands, Monseigneur. Do with me whatever you +think best; but have pity when deciding my fate." + +Still, as he continued silent, he terrified her, and seemed to grow +taller than ever as he stood before her in his fearful majesty. The +deserted Cathedral, whose aisles were already dark, with its high +vaulted arches where the daylight seemed dying, made the agony of this +silence still harder to bear. In the chapel, where the commemorative +slabs could no longer be seen, there remained only the Bishop in his +purple cassock, that now looked black, and his long white face, which +alone seemed to have absorbed all the light. She saw his bright eyes +fixed upon her with an ever-increasing depth of expression, and shrunk +from them, wondering if it were possible that anger made them shine in +so strange a way. + +"Monseigneur, had I not come to-day, I should have eternally +reproached myself for having brought about the unhappiness of us both +from my want of courage. Tell me then, oh, tell me that I was right in +doing so, and that you will give us your consent!" + +What use would there be in discussing the matter with this child? He +had already given his son the reasons for his refusal, and that was +all-sufficient. That he had not yet spoken was only because he thought +he had nothing to say. She, no doubt, understood him, and she seemed +to wish to raise herself up that she might be able to kiss his hands. +But he threw them behind him violently, and she was startled at seeing +his white face become suddenly crimson, from a rush of blood to his +head. + +"Monseigneur! Monseigneur!" + +At last he opened his lips, to say to her just one word, the same he +had said to his son: + +"Never!" + +And without remaining to pray that day, as was his wont, he left the +chapel, and with slow steps soon disappeared behind the pillars of the +apse. + +Falling on the flagstones, Angelique wept for a long time, sobbing +deeply in the great peaceful silence of the empty church. + + + + CHAPTER XIV + +That same evening in the kitchen, after they left the dinner-table, +Angelique confessed everything to Hubert, telling him of her interview +with the Bishop, and of the latter's refusal. She was very pale, but +not at all excited. + +Hubert was quite overcome. What? Could it be possible that his dear +child already suffered? That she also had been so deeply wounded in +her affections? His eyes were filled with tears from his sympathy with +her, as they were both of that excessively sensitive nature that at +the least breath they were carried away by their imaginations. + +"Ah! my poor darling, why did you not consult me? I would willingly +have accompanied you, and perhaps I might have persuaded Monseigneur +to yield to your prayers." + +With a look Hubertine stopped him. He was really unreasonable. Was it +not much better to seize this occasion to put an end at once to all +ideas of a marriage which would be impossible? She took the young girl +in her arms, and tenderly kissed her forehead. + +"Then, now it is ended, my dear child; all ended?" + +Angelique at first did not appear to understand what was said to her. +Soon the words returned to her as if from a distance. She looked +fixedly before her, seeming anxious to question the empty space, and +at last she replied: + +"Without doubt, mother." + +Indeed, on the morrow she seated herself at the work-frame and +embroidered as she was wont to do. She took up her usual routine of +daily work, and did not appear to suffer. Moreover, no allusion was +made to the past; she no longer looked from time to time out of the +window into the garden, and gradually losing her paleness, the natural +colour came back to her cheeks. The sacrifice appeared to have been +accomplished. + +Hubert himself thought it was so, and, convinced of the wisdom of +Hubertine, did all in his power to keep Felicien at a distance. The +latter, not daring to openly revolt against his father, grew +feverishly impatient, to such a degree that he almost broke the +promise he had made to wait quietly without trying to see Angelique +again. He wrote to her, and the letters were intercepted. He even went +to the house one morning, but it was Hubert alone who received him. +Their explanatory conversation saddened them both to an equal degree, +so much did the young man appear to suffer when the embroiderer told +him of his daughter's calmness and her air of forgetfulness. He +besought him to be loyal, and go to away, that he might not again +throw the child into the fearful trouble of the last few weeks. + +Felicien again pledged himself to be patient, but he violently refused +to take back his word, for he was still hopeful that he might persuade +his father in the end. He could wait; he would let affairs remain in +their present state with the Voincourts, where he dined twice a week, +doing so simply to avoid a direct act of open rebellion. + +And as he left the house he besought Hubert to explain to Angelique +why he had consented to the torment of not seeing her for the moment; +he thought only of her, and the sole aim of everything he did was to +gain her at last. + +When her husband repeated this conversation to her, Hubertine grew +very serious. Then, after a short silence, she asked: + +"Shall you tell our daughter what he asked you to say to her?" + +"I ought to do so." + +She was again silent, but finally added: + +"Act according to your conscience. But he is now under a delusion. He +will eventually be obliged to yield to his father's wishes, and then +our poor, dear little girl will die in consequence." + +Hubert, overcome with grief, hesitated. But after contending with +himself, he concluded to repeat nothing. Moreover, he became a little +reassured each day when his wife called his attention to Angelique's +tranquil appearance. + +"You see well that the wound is healing. She is learning to forget." + +But she did not forget; she also was simply waiting. All hope of human +aid having died within her, she now had returned to the idea of some +wonderful prodigy. There would surely be one, if God wished her to be +happy. She had only to give herself up entirely into His hands; she +believed that this new trial had been sent to her as a punishment for +having attempted to force His will in intruding upon Monseigneur. +Without true grace mankind was weak, and incapable of success. Her +need of that grace made her humble, bringing to her as an only hope +the aid of the Invisible; so that she gave up acting for herself, but +left everything to the mysterious forces which surrounded her. Each +evening at lamplight she recommenced her reading of the "Golden +Legend," being as delighted with it as when she was a young child. She +doubted none of the miracles related therein, being convinced that the +power of the Unknown is without limit for the triumph of pure souls. + +Just at this time the upholsterer of the Cathedral ordered of the +Huberts a panel of the very richest embroidery for the throne of +Monseigneur the Bishop. This panel, one yard and a half in width and +three yards in length, was to be set in old carved wood, and on it +were to be represented two angels of life-size, holding a crown, on +which were to be the arms of the Hautecoeurs. It was necessary that +the embroidery should be in bas-relief, a work which not only required +great artistic knowledge, but also needed physical strength, to be +well done. When proposed to the Huberts, they at first declined the +offer, being not only fearful of fatiguing Angelique, but especially +dreading that she would be saddened by the remembrances which would be +brought to her mind as she wrought thread after thread during the +several weeks. But she insisted upon accepting the command, and every +morning applied herself to her task with an extraordinary energy. It +seemed as if she found her happiness in tiring herself, and that she +needed to be physically exhausted in order to be calm. + +So in the old workroom life continued in the same regular way, as if +their hearts had not even for a moment beaten more quickly than usual. +Whilst Hubert occupied himself with arranging the frames, or drew the +patterns, or stretched or relaxed the materials, Hubertine helped +Angelique, both of them having their hands terribly tired and bruised +when evening came. For the angels and the ornaments it had been +necessary at the beginning to divide each subject into several parts, +which were treated separately. In order to perfect the most salient +points, Angelique first took spools of coarse unbleached thread, which +she re-covered with the strong thread of Brittany in a contrary +direction; and as the need came, making use of a heavy pair of shears, +as well as of a roughing-chisel, she modelled these threads, shaped +the drapery of the angels, and detached the details of the ornaments. +In all this there was a real work of sculpture. At last, when the +desired form was obtained, with the aid of Hubertine she threw on +masses of gold thread, which she fastened down with little stitches of +silk. Thus there was a bas-relief of gold, incomparably soft and +bright, shining like a sun in the centre of this dark, smoky room. The +old tools were arranged in the same lines as they had been for +centuries--the punches, the awls, the mallets, and the hammers; on the +work-frame the little donkey waste-basket and the tinsel, the thimbles +and the needles, moved up and down as usual, while in the different +corners, where they ended by growing rusty, the diligent, the hand +spinning-wheel, and the reel for winding, seemed to sleep in the +peaceful quiet which entered through the open window. + +Days passed. Angelique broke many needles between morning and evening, +so difficult was it to sew down the gold, through the thickness of the +waxed threads. To have seen her, one would have said she was so +thoroughly absorbed by her hard work that she could think of nothing +else. At nine o'clock she was exhausted by fatigue, and, going to bed, +she sank at once into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When her embroidery +gave her mind a moment's leisure, she was astonished not to see +Felicien. Although she took no step towards seeking him, it seemed to +her that he ought to have tried every possible way to come to her. Yet +she approved of his wisdom in acting as he did, and would have scolded +him had he tried to hasten matters. No doubt he also looked for +something supernatural to happen. It was this expectation upon which +she now lived, thinking each night that it would certainly come on the +morrow. Until now she had never rebelled. Still, at times she lifted +up her head inquiringly, as if asking "What! Has nothing yet come to +pass?" And then she pricked her finger so deeply that her hand bled, +and she was obliged to take the pincers to draw the needle out. When +her needle would break with a sharp little sound, as if of glass, she +did not even make a movement of impatience. + +Hubertine was very anxious on seeing her apply herself so desperately +to her work, and as the time for the great washing had come again, she +forced her to leave her panel of embroidery, that she might have four +good days of active outdoor life in the broad sunlight. The _mere_ +Gabet, now free of her rheumatism, was able to help in the soaping and +rinsing. It was a regular fete in the Clos-Marie, these last August +days, in which the weather was splendid, the sky almost cloudless, +while a delicious fragrance came up from the Chevrotte, the water of +which as it passed under the willows was almost icy cold. The first +day Angelique was very gay, as she beat the linen after plunging it in +the stream; enjoying to the full the river, the elms, the old ruined +mill, the wild herbs, and all those friendly surroundings, so filled +with pleasant memories. Was it not there she had become acquainted +with Felicien, who under the moonlight had at first seemed so +mysterious a being, and who, later on, had been so adorably awkward +the morning when he ran after the dressing-sacque that was being +carried away by the current? As she rinsed each article, she could not +refrain from glancing at the gateway of the Bishop's garden, which +until recently had been nailed up. One evening she had passed through +it on his arm, and who could tell but he might suddenly now open it +and come to take her as she applied herself to her work in the midst +of the frothy foam that at times almost covered her. + +But the next day, as the _mere_ Gabet brought the last barrow of +linen, which she spread out on the grass with Angelique, she +interrupted her interminable chattering upon the gossip of the +neighbourhood to say maliciously: + +"By the way, you know that Monseigneur is to marry his son?" + +The young girl, who was just smoothing out a sheet, knelt down in the +grass, her strength leaving her all at once, from the rudeness of the +shock. + +"Yes, everyone is talking of it. The son of Monseigneur will in the +autumn marry Mademoiselle de Voincourt. It seems that everything was +decided upon and arranged yesterday." + +She remained on her knees, as a flood of confused ideas passed through +her brain, and a strange humming was in her ears. She was not at all +surprised at the news, and she realised it must be true. Her mother +had already warned her, so she ought to have been prepared for it. She +did not yet even doubt Felicien's love for her, as that was her faith +and her strength. But at the present moment, that which weakened her +so greatly and excited her to the very depths of her being was the +thought that, trembling before the commands of his father, he could at +last yield from weariness, and consent to wed one whom he did not +love. Then he would be lost to her whom he really adored. Never had +she thought such an act on his part possible; but now she saw him +obliged by his filial duty and his sense of obedience to make them +both unhappy for ever. Still motionless, her eyes fixed upon the +little gate, she at last revolted against the facts, feeling as if she +must go and shake the bars, force them open with her hands, run to +Felicien, and, aiding him by her own courage, persuade him not to +yield. She was surprised to hear herself reply to the _mere_ Gabet, in +the purely mechanical instinct of hiding her trouble: + +"Ah! then he is to marry Mademoiselle Claire. She is not only very +beautiful, but it is said she is also very good." + +Certainly, as soon as the old woman went away, she must go and find +him. She had waited long enough; she would break her promise of not +seeing him as if it were a troublesome obstacle. What right had anyone +to separate them in this way? Everything spoke to her of their +affection--the Cathedral, the fresh water, and the old elm-trees under +which they had been so happy. Since their affection had grown on this +spot, it was there that she wished to find him again, to go with him +arm-in-arm far away, so far that no one would ever see them. + +"That is all," said at last the _mere_ Gabet, as she hung the last +napkins on a bush. "In two hours they will be dry. Good-night, +mademoiselle, as you no longer have need of me." + +Now, standing in the midst of this efflorescence of linen that shone +on the green grass, Angelique thought of that other day, when, in the +tempest of wind, among the flapping of the sheets and tablecloths, +they unfolded so ingenuously the secrets of their lives to each other. +Why had he discontinued his visits to her? Why had he not come to meet +her during her healthy exercise of the past three days? But it would +not be long before she would run to him, and when he had clasped her +in his arms, he would know well that he was hers, and hers only. She +would not even need to reproach him for his apparent weakness; it +would be enough for her to show herself to make him realise that their +happiness was in being together. + +He would dare everything for her sake when once she had rejoined him. + +An hour passed, and Angelique walked slowly between the pieces of +linen, all white herself from the blinding reflection of the sun; and +a confused sentiment awoke in her breast, which, growing stronger and +stronger, prevented her from going over to the gate, as she had wished +to do. She was frightened before this commencement of a struggle. What +did it mean? She certainly could act according to her own will. Yet +something new, inexplicable, thwarted her and changed the simplicity +of her passion. It was such a simple thing to go to a beloved one; yet +she could not possibly do so now, being kept back by a tormenting +doubt. Also, since she had given her promise, perhaps it would be +wrong to break it. In the evening, when the whole "wash" was dry, and +Hubertine came to help her to take it to the house, she was still +undecided what to do, and concluded to reflect upon it during the +night. With her arms filled to overflowing with linen, white as snow, +and smelling fresh and clean, she cast an anxious look towards the +Clos-Marie, already bathed in the twilight, as if it were a friendly +corner of Nature refusing to be her accomplice. + +In the morning Angelique was greatly troubled when she awoke. Several +other nights passed without her having come to any decision. She could +not recover her ease of mind until she had the certainty that she was +still beloved. Were her faith in that unshaken she would be perfectly +at rest. If loved, she could bear anything. A fit of being charitable +had again taken possession of her, so that she was touched by the +slightest suffering, and her eyes were filled with tears ready to +overflow at any moment. The old man Mascart made her give him tobacco, +and the Chouarts drew from her everything they wished, even to +preserved fruits. But the Lemballeuses also profited by her gifts, and +Tiennette had been seen dancing at the fetes, dressed in one of "the +good young lady's" gowns. And one day, as she was taking to the +grandmother some chemises promised her the previous evening, she saw +from a distance, in the midst of the poor family, Madame de Voincourt +and her daughter Claire, accompanied by Felicien. The latter, no +doubt, had taken them there. She did not show herself, but returned +home at once, chilled to the heart. Two days later she saw the two +again as they came out from the Chateau; then one morning the old man +Mascart told her of a visit he had received from the handsome young +gentleman and two ladies. Then she abandoned her poor people, who +seemed no longer to have claims upon her, since Felicien had taken +them and given them to his new friends. She gave up her walks for fear +she might see them, and thus be so deeply wounded that her sufferings +would be increased tenfold. She felt as if something were dying within +her, as if, little by little, her very life was passing away. + +One evening, after one of these meetings, when alone in her chamber, +stifling from anguish, she uttered this cry: + +"But he loves me no longer." + +She saw before her, mentally, Claire de Voincourt, tall, beautiful, +with her crown of black hair, and he was at her side, slight, proud, +and handsome. Were they not really created for each other, of the same +race, so well mated that one might think they were already married? + +"He no longer loves me! Oh! he no longer loves me!" + +This exclamation broke from her lips as if it were the ruin of all her +hopes, and, her faith once shaken, everything gave way without her +being able to examine the facts of the case or to regard them calmly. +The previous evening she believed in something, but that had now +passed by. A breath, coming from she knew not where, had been +sufficient, and all at once by a single blow she had fallen into the +greatest despair--that of thinking she was not beloved. He had indeed +spoken wisely when he told her once that this was the only real grief, +the one insupportable torture. Now her turn had come. Until then she +had been resigned, she felt so strong and confident as she awaited the +miracle. But her strength passed away with her faith; she was +tormented by her distress like a child; her whole being seemed to be +only an open wound. And a painful struggle commenced in her soul. + +At first she called upon her pride to help her; she was too proud to +care for him any more. She tried to deceive herself, she pretended to +be free from all care, as she sang while embroidering the Hautecoeur +coat of arms, upon which she was at work. But her heart was so full it +almost stifled her, and she was ashamed to acknowledge to herself that +she was weak enough to love him still in spite of all, and even to +love him more than ever. For a week these armorial bearings, as they +grew thread by thread under her fingers, filled her with a terrible +sorrow. Quartered one and four, two and three, of Jerusalem and +d'Hautecoeur; of Jerusalem, which is argent, a cross potence, or, +between four cross-crosslets of the last; and d'Hautecoeur, azure, on +a castle, or, a shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent; the +whole accompanied by three fleurs-de-lys, or, two at the top and one +in the point. The enamels were made of twist, the metals of gold and +silver thread. What misery it was to feel that her hands trembled, and +to be obliged to lower her head to hide her eyes, that were blinded +with tears, from all this brightness. She thought only of him; she +adored him in the lustre of his legendary nobility. And when she +embroidered the motto of the family, "_Si Dieu veult, je veux_," in +black silk on a streamer of silver, she realised that she was his +slave, and that never again could she reclaim him. Then tears +prevented her from seeing, while mechanically she continued to make +little stitches in her work. + +After this it was indeed pitiable. Angelique loved in despair, fought +against this hopeless affection, which she could not destroy. She +still wished to go to Felicien, to reconquer him by throwing her arms +around his neck; and thus the contest was daily renewed. Sometimes she +thought she had gained control over her feelings, so great a silence +appeared to have fallen within and around her. She seemed to see +herself as if in a vision, a stranger in reality, very little, very +cold, and kneeling like an obedient child in the humility of +renunciation. Then it was no longer herself, but a sensible young +girl, made so by her education and her home life. Soon a rush of blood +mounted to her face, making her dizzy; her perfect health, the ardent +feelings of her youth, seemed to gallop like runaway colts, and she +resaw herself, proud and passionate, in all the reality of her unknown +origin. Why, then, had she been so obedient? There was no true duty to +consult, only free-will. Already she had planned her flight, and +calculated the most favourable hour for forcing open the gate of the +Bishop's garden. But already, also, the agony, the grave uneasiness, +the torment of a doubt had come back to her. Were she to yield to evil +she would suffer eternal remorse in consequence. Hours, most +abominable hours, passed in this uncertainty as to what part she +should take under this tempestuous wind, which constantly threw her +from the revolt of her love to the horror of a fault. And she came out +of the contest weakened by each victory over her heart. + +One evening, as she was about leaving the house to go to join +Felicien, she suddenly thought of her little book from the Society of +Aid to Abandoned Children. She was so distressed to find that she no +longer had strength to resist her pride. She took it from the depths +of the chest of drawers, turned over its leaves, whispered to herself +at each page the lowness of her birth, so eager was she in her need of +humility. Father and mother unknown; no name; nothing but a date and a +number; a complete neglect, like that of a wild plant that grows by +the roadside! Then crowds of memories came to her: the rich pastures +of the Mievre and the cows she had watched there; the flat route of +Soulanges, where she had so often walked barefooted; and Maman Nini, +who boxed her ears when she stole apples. Certain pages specially +attracted her by their painful associations:--those which certified +every three months to the visits of the under-inspector and of the +physician, whose signatures were sometimes accompanied by observations +or information, as, for instance, a severe illness, during which she +had almost died; a claim from her nurse on the subject of a pair of +shoes that had been burnt; and bad marks that had been given her for +her uncontrollable temper. It was, in short, the journal of her +misery. But one thing disturbed her above all others--the report in +reference to the breaking of the necklace she had worn until she was +six years of age. She recollected that she had instinctively hated it, +this string of beads of bone, cut in the shape of little olives, +strung on a silken cord, and fastened by a medallion of plaited +silver, bearing the date of her entrance into the "Home" and her +number. She considered it as a badge of slavery, and tried several +times to break it with her little hands, without any fear as to the +consequences of doing so. Then, when older, she complained that it +choked her. For a year longer she was obliged to wear it. Great, +indeed, was her joy when, in the presence of the mayor of the parish, +the inspector's aid had cut the cord, replacing this sign of +individuality by a formal description, in which allusion was made to +her violet-coloured eyes and her fine golden hair. Yet she always +seemed to feel around her neck this collar, as if she were an animal +that was marked in order that she might be recognised if she went +astray; it cut into her flesh and stifled her. When she came to that +page on this day, her humility came back to her, she was frightened, +and went up to her chamber, sobbing as if unworthy of being loved. At +two other times this little book saved her. At last it lost its power, +and could not help her in checking her rebellious thoughts. + +Now, her greatest temptation came to her at night. Before going to +bed, that her sleep might be calm, she imposed upon herself the task +of resuming reading the Legends. But, resting her forehead on her +hands, notwithstanding all her efforts she could understand nothing. +The miracles stupefied her; she saw only a discoloured flight of +phantoms. Then in her great bed, after a most intense prostration, she +started suddenly from her sleep, in agony, in the midst of the +darkness. She sat upright, distracted; then knelt among the half +thrown-back clothes, as the perspiration started from her forehead, +while she trembled from head to foot. Clasping her hands together, she +stammered in prayer, "Oh! my God! Why have You forsaken me?" + +Her great distress was to realise that she was alone in the obscurity +at such moments. She had dreamed of Felicien, she was eager to dress +herself and go to join him, before anyone could come to prevent her +from fleeing. It was as if the Divine grace were leaving her, as if +God ceased to protect her, and even the elements abandoned her. In +despair, she called upon the unknown, she listened attentively, hoping +for some sign from the Invisible. But there was no reply; the air +seemed empty. There were no more whispering voices, no more mysterious +rustlings. Everything seemed to be dead--the Clos-Marie, with the +Chevrotte, the willows, the elm-trees in the Bishop's garden, and the +Cathedral itself. Nothing remained of the dreams she had placed there; +the white flight of her friends in passing away left behind them only +their sepulchre. She was in agony at her powerlessness, disarmed, like +a Christian of the Primitive Church overcome by original sin, as soon +as the aid of the supernatural had departed. In the dull silence of +this protected corner she heard this evil inheritance come back, +howling triumphant over everything. If in ten minutes more no help +came to her from figurative forces, if things around her did not rouse +up and sustain her, she would certainly succumb and go to her ruin. +"My God! My God! Why have You abandoned me?" Still kneeling on her +bed, slight and delicate, it seemed to her as if she were dying. + +Each time, until now, at the moment of her greatest distress she had +been sustained by a certain freshness. It was the Eternal Grace which +had pity upon her, and restored her illusions. She jumped out on to +the floor with her bare feet, and ran eagerly to the window. Then at +last she heard the voices rising again; invisible wings brushed +against her hair, the people of the "Golden Legend" came out from the +trees and the stones, and crowded around her. Her purity, her +goodness, all that which resembled her in Nature, returned to her and +saved her. Now she was no longer afraid, for she knew that she was +watched over. Agnes had come back with the wandering, gentle virgins, +and in the air she breathed was a sweet calmness, which, +notwithstanding her intense sadness, strengthened her in her resolve +to die rather than fail in her duty or break her promise. At last, +quite exhausted, she crept back into her bed, falling asleep again +with the fear of the morrow's trials, constantly tormented by the idea +that she must succumb in the end, if her weakness thus increased each +day. + +In fact, a languor gained fearfully upon Angelique since she thought +Felicien no longer loved her. She was deeply wounded and silent, +uncomplaining; she seemed to be dying hourly. At first it showed +itself by weariness. She would have an attack of want of breath, when +she was forced to drop her thread, and for a moment remain with her +eyes half closed, seeing nothing, although apparently looking straight +before her. Then she left off eating, scarcely taking even a little +milk; and she either hid her bread or gave it to the neighbours' +chickens, that she need not make her parents anxious. A physician +having been called, found no acute disease, but considering her life +too solitary, simply recommended a great deal of exercise. It was like +a gradual fading away of her whole being; a disappearing by slow +degrees, an obliterating of her physique from its immaterial beauty. +Her form floated like the swaying of two great wings; a strong light +seemed to come from her thin face, where the soul was burning. She +could now come down from her chamber only in tottering steps, as she +supported herself by putting her two hands against the wall of the +stairway. But as soon as she realised she was being looked at, she +made a great effort, and even persisted in wishing to finish the panel +of heavy embroidery for the Bishop's seat. Her little, slender hands +had no more strength, and when she broke a needle she could not draw +it from the work with the pincers. + +One morning, when Hubert and Hubertine had been obliged to go out, and +had left her alone at her work, the embroiderer, coming back first, +had found her on the floor near the frame, where she had fallen from +her chair after having fainted away. She had at last succumbed before +her task, one of the great golden angels being still unfinished. +Hubert took her in his arms, and tried to place her on her feet. But +she fell back again, and did not recover consciousness. + +"My darling! My darling! Speak to me! Have pity on me!" + +At last she opened her eyes and looked at him in despair. Why had he +wished her to come back to life! She would so gladly die! + +"What is the matter with you, my dear child? Have you really deceived +us? Do you still love him?" + +She made no answer, but simply looked at him with intense sadness. +Then he embraced her gently, took her in his arms, and carried her up +to her room. Having placed her upon her bed, when he saw how white and +frail she was he wept that he had had so cruel a task to perform as to +keep away from her the one whom she so loved. + +"But I would have given him to you, my dear! Why did you say nothing +to me?" + +She did not speak; her eyelids closed, and she appeared to fall +asleep. He remained standing, his looks fixed upon the thin, lily- +white countenance, his heart bleeding with pity. Then, as her +breathing had become quiet, he went downstairs, as he heard his wife +come in. + +He explained everything to her in the working-room. Hubertine had just +taken off her hat and gloves, and he at once told her of his having +found the child on the floor in a dead faint, that she was now +sleeping on her bed, overcome with weakness, and almost lifeless. + +"We have really been greatly mistaken. She thinks constantly of this +young man, and it is killing her by inches. Ah! if you knew what a +shock it gave me, and the remorse which has made me almost distracted, +since I have realised the truth of the case, and carried her upstairs +in so pitiable a state. It is our fault. We have separated them by +falsehoods, and I am not only ashamed, but so angry with myself it +makes me ill. But what? Will you let her suffer so, without saying +anything to save her?" + +Still Hubertine was as silent as Angelique, and, pale from anxiety, +looked at him calmly and soothingly. But he, always an excitable man, +was now so overcome by what he had just seen that, forgetting his +usual submission, he was almost beside himself, could not keep still, +but threw his hands up and down in his feverish agitation. + +"Very well, then! I will speak, and I will tell her that Felicien +loves her, and that it is we who have had the cruelty to prevent him +from returning, in deceiving him also. Now, every tear she sheds cuts +me to the heart. Were she to die, I should consider myself as having +been her murderer. I wish her to be happy. Yes! happy at any cost, no +matter how, but by all possible means." + +He had approached his wife, and he dared to cry out in the revolt of +his tenderness, being doubly irritated by the sad silence she still +maintained. + +"Since they love each other, it is they alone who should be masters of +the situation. There is surely nothing in the world greater than to +love and be loved. Yes, happiness is always legitimate." + +At length Hubertine, standing motionless, spoke slowly: + +"You are willing, then, that he should take her from us, are you not? +That he should marry her notwithstanding our opposition, and without +the consent of his father? Would you advise them to do so? Do you +think that they would be happy afterwards, and that love would suffice +them?" + +And without changing her manner she continued in the same heart-broken +voice: + +"On my way home I passed by the cemetery, and an undefinable hope made +me enter there again. I knelt once more on the spot that is worn by +our knees, and I prayed there for a long time." + +Hubert had turned very pale, and a cold chill replaced the fever of a +few moments before. Certainly he knew well the tomb of the unforgiving +mother, where they had so often been in tears and in submission, as +they accused themselves of their disobedience, and besought the dead +to send them her pardon from the depths of the earth. They had +remained there for hours, sure that if the grace they demanded were +ever granted them they would be cognisant of it at once. That for +which they pleaded, that for which they hoped, was for another infant, +a child of pardon, the only sign which would assure them that at last +they themselves had been forgiven. But all was in vain. The cold, hard +mother was deaf to all their entreaties, and left them under the +inexorable punishment of the death of their firstborn, whom she had +taken and carried away, and whom she refused to restore to them. + +"I prayed there for a long time," repeated Hubertine. "I listened +eagerly to know if there would not be some slight movement." + +Hubert questioned her with an anxious look. + +"But there was nothing--no! no sound came up to me from the earth, and +within me there was no feeling of relief. Ah! yes, it is useless to +hope any longer. It is too late. We brought about our own +unhappiness." + +Then, trembling, he asked: + +"Do you accuse me of it?" + +"Yes, you are to blame, and I also did wrong in following you. We +disobeyed in the beginning, and all our life has been spoiled in +consequence of that one false step." + +"But are you not happy?" + +"No, I am not happy. A woman who has no child can never be happy. To +love merely is not enough. That love must be crowned and blest." + +He had fallen into a chair, faint and overcome, as tears came to his +eyes. Never before had she reproached him for the ever-open wound +which marred their lives, and she who always after having grieved him +by an involuntary allusion to the past had quickly recovered herself +and consoled him, this time let him suffer, looking at him as she +stood near, but making no sign, taking no step towards him. He wept +bitterly, exclaiming in the midst of his tears: + +"Ah! the dear child upstairs--it is she you condemn. You are not +willing that Felicien should marry her, as I married you, and that she +should suffer as you have done." + +She answered simply by a look: a clear, affectionate glance, in which +he read the strength and simplicity of her heart. + +"But you said yourself, my dear, that our sweet daughter would die of +grief if matters were not changed. Do you, then, wish for her death?" + +"Yes. Her death now would be preferable to an unhappy life." + +He left his seat, and clasped her in his arms as they both sobbed +bitterly. For some minutes they embraced each other. Then he conquered +himself, and she in her turn was obliged to lean upon his shoulder, +that he might comfort her and renew her courage. They were indeed +distressed, but were firm in their decision to keep perfectly silent, +and, if it were God's will that their child must die in consequence, +they must accept it submissively, rather than advise her to do wrong. + +From that day Angelique was obliged to keep in her room. Her weakness +increased so rapidly and to such a degree that she could no longer go +down to the workroom. Did she attempt to walk, her head became dizzy +at once and her limbs bent under her. At first, by the aid of the +furniture, she was able to get to the balcony. Later, she was obliged +to content herself with going from her armchair to her bed. Even that +distance seemed long to her, and she only tried it in the morning and +evening, she was so exhausted. + +However, she still worked, giving up the embroidery in bas-relief as +being too difficult, and simply making use of coloured silks. She +copied flowers after Nature, from a bunch of hydrangeas and +hollyhocks, which, having no odour, she could keep in her room. The +bouquet was in full bloom in a large vase, and often she would rest +for several minutes as she looked at it with pleasure, for even the +light silks were too heavy for her fingers. In two days she had made +one flower, which was fresh and bright as it shone upon the satin; but +this occupation was her life, and she would use her needle until her +last breath. Softened by suffering, emaciated by the inner fever that +was consuming her, she seemed now to be but a spirit, a pure and +beautiful flame that would soon be extinguished. + +Why was it necessary to struggle any longer if Felicien did not love +her? Now she was dying with this conviction; not only had he no love +for her to-day, but perhaps he had never really cared for her. So long +as her strength lasted she had contended against her heart, her +health, and her youth, all of which urged her to go and join him. But +now that she was unable to move, she must resign herself and accept +her fate. + +One morning, as Hubert placed her in her easy chair, and put a cushion +under her little, motionless feet, she said, with a smile: + +"Ah! I am sure of being good now, and not trying to run away." + +Hubert hastened to go downstairs, that she might not see his tears. + + + + CHAPTER XV + +It was impossible for Angelique to sleep that night. A nervous +wakefulness kept her burning eyelids from closing, and her extreme +weakness seemed greater than ever. The Huberts had gone to their room, +and at last, when it was near midnight, so great a fear came over her +that she would die if she were to remain longer in bed, she preferred +to get up, notwithstanding the immense effort required to do so. + +She was almost stifled. Putting on a dressing-gown and warm slippers, +she crept along slowly as far as the window, which she opened wide. +The winter was somewhat rainy, but of a mild dampness; so the air was +pleasant to breathe. She sank back into her great armchair, after +having turned up the wick of a lamp which was on a table near her, and +which was always allowed to be kept burning during the entire night. +There, by the side of the volume of the "Golden Legend," was the +bouquet of hydrangeas and hollyhocks which she had begun to copy. That +she might once more attach herself to the life which she realised was +fast passing from her she had a sudden fancy to work, and drawing her +frame forward, she made a few stitches with her trembling fingers. The +red silk of the rose-tremiere seemed of a deeper hue than ever, in +contrast with her white hands: it was almost as if it were the blood +from her veins which was quietly flowing away drop by drop. + +But she, who for two hours had turned in vain from side to side in the +burning bedclothes, yielded almost immediately to sleep as soon as she +was seated. Her head drooped a little toward her right shoulder, being +supported by the back of her chair, and the silk remaining in her +motionless hands, a looker-on would have thought she was still +embroidering. White as snow, perfectly calm, she slept under the light +of the lamp in the chamber, still and quiet as a tomb. The faded, rosy +draperies of the great royal couch were paler than ever in their shady +corner, and the gloom of the walls of the room was only relieved by +the great chest of drawers, the wardrobe, and the chairs of old carved +oak. Minutes passed; her slumber was deep and dreamless. + +At last there was a slight sound, and Felicien suddenly appeared on +the balcony, pale, trembling, and, like herself, looking very worn and +thin, and his countenance distressed. When he saw her reclining in the +easy chair, pitiable and yet so beautiful to look at, he rushed at +once into the chamber, and his heart grew heavy with infinite grief as +he went forward, and, falling on his knees before her, gazed at her +with an expression of utter despair. Could it be that she was so +hopelessly ill? Was it unhappiness that had caused her to be so weak, +and to have wasted way to such a degree that she appeared to him light +as air while she lay there, like a feather which the slightest breath +would blow away? In her sleep, her suffering and her patient +resignation were clearly seen. He in fact would have known her only by +her lily-like grace, the delicate outlines of her neck, her drooping +shoulders, and her oval face, transfigured like that of a youthful +virgin mounting towards heaven. Her exquisite hair was now only a mass +of light, and her pure soul shone under the soft transparency of her +skin. She had all the ethereal beauty of the saints relieved from +their bodies. He was both dazzled and distressed; the violent shock +rendered him incapable of moving, and, with hands clasped, he remained +silent. She did not awake as he continued to watch her. + +A little air from the half-closed lips of Felicien must have passed +across Angelique's face, as all at once she opened her great eyes. Yet +she did not start, but in her turn looked at him with a smile, as if +he were a vision. Yes, it was he! She recognised him well, although he +was greatly changed. But she did not think she was awake, for she +often saw him thus in her dreams, and her trouble was increased when, +rousing from her sleep, she realised the truth. + +He held his hands out towards her and spoke: + +"My dearest, I love you. I was told that you were ill, and came to you +immediately. Look at me! Here I am, and I love you." + +She straightened herself up quickly. She shuddered, as with a +mechanical movement she passed her fingers over her eyes. + +"Doubt no longer, then. See me at your feet, and realise that I love +you now, as I have ever done." + +Then she exclaimed: + +"Oh! is it you? I had given up expecting you, and yet you are here." + +With her feeble, trembling hands, she had taken his, thus assuring +herself that he was not a fanciful vision of her sleep. + +He continued: + +"You have always loved me, and I love you for ever. Yes, +notwithstanding everything; and more deeply even than I should have +ever thought it possible to do." + +It was an unhoped-for excess of happiness, and in this first minute of +absolute joy they forgot everything else in the world, giving +themselves up to the delightful certainty of their mutual affection, +and their ability to declare it. The sufferings of the past, the +obstacles of the future, had disappeared as if by magic. They did not +even think of asking how it was that they had thus come together. But +there they were, mingling their tears of joy together as they embraced +each other with the purest of feelings: he was overcome with pity that +she was so worn by grief and illness that she seemed like a mere +shadow in his arms. In the enchantment of her surprise she remained +half-paralysed, trembling from exhaustion, radiant with spiritual +beauty, as she lay back in her great easy chair, so physically weary +that she could not raise herself without falling again, but +intoxicated with this supreme contentment. + +"Ah, dear Seigneur, my only remaining wish is gratified. I longed to +see you before death came." + +He lifted up his head, as with a despairing movement, and said: + +"Do not speak of dying. It shall not be. I am here, and I love you." + +She smiled angelically. + +"I am not afraid to die now that you have assured me of your +affection. The idea no longer terrifies me. I could easily fall asleep +in this way, while leaning on your shoulders. Tell me once more that +you love me." + +"I love you as deeply to-day as I loved you yesterday, and as I will +love you on the morrow. Do not doubt it for one moment, for it is for +eternity! Oh, yes, we will love each other for ever and ever." + +Angelique was enraptured, and with vague eyes looked directly before +her, as if seeing something beyond the cold whiteness of the chamber. +But evidently she aroused herself, as if just awaking from sleep. In +the midst of this great felicity which had appeased her, she had now +had time for reflection. The true facts of the case astonished her. + +"You have loved me! Yet why did you not at once come to see me?" + +"Your parents said that you cared for me no longer. I also nearly died +when learning that. At last, I was determined to know the whole truth, +and was sent away from the house, the door being absolutely closed +against me, and I was forbidden to return." + +"Then they shut the door in your face? Yet my mother told me that you +did not love me, and I could but believe her, since having seen you +several times with that young lady, Mademoiselle Claire, I thought +naturally you were obeying your father." + +"No. I was waiting. But it was cowardly on my part thus to tremble +before him. My great mistake has been to allow the matter to go so +far; for my duty was to have trusted only in you, to have insisted +upon seeing you personally, and to have acted with you." + +There was a short silence. Angelique sat erect for an instant, as if +she had received a blow, and her expression grew cold and hard, and +her forehead was cut by an angry wrinkle. + +"So we have both of us been deceived. Falsehoods have been told in +order to separate us from each other. Notwithstanding our mutual love, +we have been tortured to such a degree that they have almost killed us +both. Very well, then! It is abominable, and it frees us from the +promises we made. We are now at liberty to act as we will." + +An intense feeling of contempt so excited her that she stood up on her +feet. She no longer realised that she was ill, but appeared to have +regained her strength miraculously in the reawakening of all the +passion and pride of her nature. To have thought her dream ended, and +all at once to have re-found it in its full beauty and vitality, +delighted her. To be able to say that they had done nothing unworthy +of their love, but that it was other persons who had been the guilty +ones, was a comfort. This growth of herself, this at last certain +triumph, exalted her and threw her into a supreme rebellion. + +She simply said: + +"Come, let us go." + +And she walked around the room, brave in the return of her energy and +her will. She had already selected a mantle to throw over her +shoulders. A lace scarf would be sufficient for her head. + +Felicien uttered one cry of joy as she thus anticipated his desire. He +had merely thought of this flight, but had not had the boldness to +dare propose it; and how delightful indeed it would be to go away +together, to disappear, and thus put an end to all cares, to overcome +all obstacles. The sooner it was done the better, for then they would +avoid having to contend with reflection or afterthought. + +"Yes, darling, let us go immediately. I was coming to take you. I know +where we can find a carriage. Before daylight we will be far away: so +far that no one will ever be able to overtake us." + +She opened her drawers, but closed them again violently, without +taking anything therefrom, as her excitement increased. Could it be +possible that she had suffered such torture for so many weeks! She had +done everything in her power to drive him from her mind, to try to +convince herself that he cared no more for her, until at last she +thought she had succeeded in doing so. But it was of no use, and all +this abominable work must be done over again. No! she could never have +strength sufficient for that. Since they loved each other, the +simplest thing in the world to do was to be married, and then no power +on earth could separate them. + +"Let me see. What ought I to take? Oh! how foolish I have been with +all my childish scruples, when I think that others have lowered +themselves so much as even to tell us falsehoods! Yes! even were I to +have died, they would not have called you to me. But, tell me, must I +take linen and dresses? See, here is a warmer gown. What strange +ideas, what unnumbered obstacles, they put in my head. There was good +on one side and evil on the other: things which one might do, and +again that which one should never do; in short, such a complication of +matters, it was enough to make one wild. They were all falsehoods: +there was no truth in any of them. The only real happiness is to live +to love the one who loves you, and to obey the promptings of the +heart. You are the personification of fortune, of beauty, and of +youth, my dear Seigneur; my only pleasure is in you. I give myself to +you freely, and you may do with me what you wish." + +She rejoiced in this breaking-out of all the hereditary tendencies of +her nature, which she thought had died within her. Sounds of distant +music excited her. She saw as it were their royal departure: this son +of a prince carrying her away as in a fairy-tale, and making her queen +of some imaginary realm; and she was ready to follow him with her arms +clasped around his neck, her head upon his breast, with such a +trembling from intense feeling that her whole body grew weak from +happiness. To be alone together, just they two, to abandon themselves +to the galloping of horses, to flee away, and to disappear in each +other's arms. What perfect bliss it would be! + +"Is it not better for me to take nothing? What good would it do in +reality?" + +He, partaking of her feverishness, was already at the door, as he +replied: + +"No, no! Take nothing whatever. Let us go at once." + +"Yes, let us go. That is the best thing to do." + +And she rejoined him. But she turned round, wishing to give a last +look at the chamber. The lamp was burning with the same soft light, +the bouquet of hydrangeas and hollyhocks was blooming as ever, and in +her work-frame the unfinished rose, bright and natural as life, seemed +to be waiting for her. But the room itself especially affected her. +Never before had it seemed so white and pure to her; the walls, the +bed, the air even, appeared as if filled with a clear, white breath. + +Something within her wavered, and she was obliged to lean heavily +against the back of a chair that was near her and not far from the +door. + +"What is the matter?" asked Felicien anxiously. + +She did not reply, but breathed with great difficulty. Then, seized +with a trembling, she could no longer bear her weight on her feet, but +was forced to sit down. + +"Do not be anxious; it is nothing. I only want to rest for a minute +and then we will go." + +They were silent. She continued to look round the room as if she had +forgotten some valuable object there, but could not tell what it was. +It was a regret, at first slight, but which rapidly increased and +filled her heart by degrees, until it almost stifled her. She could no +longer collect her thoughts. Was it this mass of whiteness that kept +her back? She had always adored white, even to such a degree as to +collect bits of silk and revel over them in secret. + +"One moment, just one moment more, and we will go away, my dear +Seigneur." + +But she did not even make an effort to rise. Very anxious, he again +knelt before her. + +"Are you suffering, my dear? Cannot I do something to make you feel +better? If you are shivering because you are cold, I will take your +little feet in my hands, and will so warm them that they will grow +strong and be able to run." + +She shook her head as she replied: + +"No, no, I am not cold. I could walk. But please wait a little, just a +single minute." + +He saw well that invisible chains seemed again to have taken +possession of her limbs, and, little by little, were attaching +themselves so strongly to her that very soon, perhaps, it would be +quite impossible for him to draw her away. Yet, if he did not take her +from there at once, if they did not flee together, he thought of the +inevitable contest with his father on the morrow, of the distressing +interview before which he had recoiled for weeks past. Then he became +pressing, and besought her most ardently. + +"Come, dear, the highways are not light at this hour; the carriage +will bear us away in the darkness, and we will go on and on, cradled +in each other's arms, sleeping as if warmly covered with down, not +fearing the night's freshness; and when the day dawns we will continue +our route in the sunshine, as we go still farther on, until we reach +the country where people are always happy. No one will know us there; +we will live by ourselves, lost in some great garden, having no other +care than to love each other more deeply than ever at the coming of +each new day. We shall find flowers as large as trees, fruits sweeter +than honey. And we will live on nothing, for in the midst of this +eternal spring, dear soul, we will live on our kisses." + +She trembled under these burning words, with which he heated her face, +and her whole being seemed to be fainting away at the representation +of these promised joys. + +"Oh! in a few minutes I will be ready; but wait a little longer." + +"Then, if journeying fatigues us, we will come back here. We will +rebuild the Chateau d'Hautecoeur, and we will pass the rest of our +lives there. That is my ideal dream. If it is necessary, we will spend +willingly all our fortune therein. Once more shall its donjon overlook +from its height the two valleys. We will make our home in the Pavilion +d'Honneur, between the Tower of David and the Tower of Charlemagne. +The colossal edifice shall be restored as in the days of its primitive +power: the galleries, the dwellings, the chapels, shall appear in the +same barbaric luxury as before. And I shall wish for us to lead the +life of olden times; you a princess and I a prince, surrounded by a +large company of armed vassals and of pages. Our walls of fifteen feet +of thickness will isolate us, and we shall be as our ancestors were, +of whom it is written in the Legend. When the sun goes down behind the +hills we will return from hunting, mounted on great white horses, +greeted respectfully by the peasants as they kneel before us. The horn +will resound in welcome, the drawbridge will be lowered for us. In the +evening, kings will dine at our table. At night, our couch will be on +a platform surmounted by a canopy like a throne. While we sleep +peacefully in purple and gold, soft music will be played in the +distance." + +Quivering with pride and pleasure, she smiled now, but soon, overcome +by the great suffering that again took possession of her, her lips +assumed a mournful expression and the smile disappeared. As with a +mechanical movement of her hands she drove away the tempting pictures +he called forth, he redoubled his ardour, and wished to make her his +by seizing her and carrying her away in his arms. + +"Come, dear. Come with me. Let us go, and forget everything but our +united happiness." + +Disengaging herself brusquely, she escaped him, with an instinctive +rebellion, and trying to stand up, this cry came at last from her: + +"No, no! I cannot go. I no longer have the power to do so." + +However, again lamenting her fate, still torn by the contest in her +soul, hesitating and stammering, she again turned towards him +imploringly. + +"I beg you to be good and not hurry me too much, but wait awhile. I +would so gladly obey you, in order to prove to you my love; I would +like above all to go away on your arm to that beautiful far-away +country, where we could live royally in the castle of your dreams. It +seems to me an easy thing to do, so often have I myself planned our +flight. Yet now, what shall I say to you? It appears to me quite an +impossibility; it is as if a door had suddenly been walled up between +us and prevented me from going out." + +He wished to try to fascinate her again, but she quieted him with a +movement of her hands. + +"No; do not say anything more. It is very singular, but in proportion +as you utter such sweet, such tender words, which ought to convince +me, fear takes possession of me and chills me to the heart. My God! +What is the matter with me? It is really that which you say which +drives me from you. If you continue, I can no longer listen to you; +you will be obliged to go away. Yet wait--wait a little longer!" + +She walked very slowly about the room, anxiously seeking to resume her +self-control, while he looked at her in despair. + +"I thought to have loved you no longer; but it was certainly only a +feeling of pique, since just now, as soon as I found you again at my +feet, my heart beat rapidly, and my first impulse was to follow you as +if I were your slave. Then, if I love you, why am I afraid of you? +What is it that prevents me from leaving this room, as if invisible +hands were holding me back by my whole body, and even by each hair of +my head?" + +She had stopped near her bed; then she went as far as the wardrobe, +then to the different articles of furniture, one after the other. They +all seemed united to her person by invisible ties. Especially the +walls of the room, the grand whiteness of the mansard roof, enveloped +her with a robe of purity, that she could leave behind her only with +tears; and henceforth all this would be a part of her being; the +spirit of her surroundings had entered into her. And she realised this +fact stronger than ever when she found herself opposite her working- +frame, which was resting at the side of the table under the lamplight. +Her heart softened as she saw the half-made rose, which she would +never finish were she to go away in this secret, criminal manner. The +years of work were brought back to her mind: those quiet, happy years, +during which life had been one long experience of peace and honesty, +so that now she rebelled at the thought of committing a fault and of +thus fleeing in the arms of her lover. Each day in this little, fresh +house of the embroiderers, the active and pure life she had led there, +away from all worldly temptations, had, as it were, made over all the +blood in her veins. + +Then Felicien, realising that in some inexplicable way Angelique was +being reconquered and brought to her better self, felt the necessity +of hastening their departure. He seized her hands and said: + +"Come, dear. Time passes quickly. If we wait much longer it will be +too late." + +She looked at him an instant, and then in a flash realised her true +position. Freeing herself from his grasp she exclaimed, resolutely and +frankly: + +"It is already too late. You can see for yourself that I am unable now +to follow you. Once my nature was so proud and passionate that I could +have thrown my two arms around your neck in order that you might carry +me away all the more quickly. But now I am no longer the same person. +I am so changed that I do not recognise myself. Yes, I realise now +that it is this quiet corner where I have been brought up, and the +education that has been given me, that has made me what I am at +present. Do you then yourself hear nothing? Do you not know that +everything in this chamber calls upon me to stay? And I do not rebel +in the least against this demand, for my joy at last is to obey." + +Without speaking, without attempting to discuss the question with her, +he tried to take her hands again, and to lead her like an intractable +child. Again she avoided him and turned slowly toward the window. + +"No, I beseech you to leave me. It is not my hand that you wish for, +it is my heart; and also that, of my own free will, I shall at once go +away with you. But I tell you plainly that I do not wish to do so. A +while ago I thought to have been as eager for flight as you are. But +sure of my true self now, I know it was only the last rebellion, the +agony of the old nature within me, that has just died. Little by +little, without my knowledge, the good traits of my character have +been drawn together and strongly united: humility, duty, and +renunciation. So at each return of hereditary tendency to excess, the +struggle has been less severe, and I have triumphed over temptation +more easily. Now, at last, everything assures me that the supreme +contest has just taken place; that henceforth it is finished for ever. +I have conquered myself, and my nature is freed from the evil +tendencies it had. Ah! dear Seigneur, I love you so much! Do not let +us do the slightest thing to mar our happiness. To be happy it is +always necessary to submit." + +As he took another step towards her, she was at the threshold of the +great window, which was now wide open on to the balcony. She had +stopped him with a half-smile as she said: + +"You would not like to force me to throw myself down from here. +Listen, and understand me when I say to you that everything which +surrounds me is on my side. I have already told you that for a long +time objects themselves have spoken to me. I hear voices in all +directions, and never have they been so distinct as at this moment. +Hear! It is the whole Clos-Marie that encourages me not to spoil my +life and yours by giving myself to you without the consent of your +father. This singing voice is the Chevrotte, so clear and so fresh +that it seems to have put within me a purity like crystal since I have +lived so near it. This other voice, like that of a crowd, tender and +deep, it is that of the entire earth--the grasses, the trees, all the +peaceable life of this sacred corner which has so constantly worked +for the good of my soul. + +"And there are other voices which come from still farther away, from +the elms of the garden of Monseigneur, and from this horizon of +branches, the smallest of which interests itself in me, and wishes for +me to be victorious. + +"Then, again, this great, sovereign voice, it is that of my old +friend, the Cathedral, who, eternally awake, both day and night, has +taught me many important things. Each one of the stones in the immense +building, the little columns in the windows, the bell-towers of its +piers, the flying buttresses of its apse, all have a murmur which I +can distinguish, a language which I understand. Listen to what they +say: that hope remains even in death. When one is really humble, love +alone remains and triumphs. And at last, look! The air itself is +filled with the whisperings of spirits. See, here are my invisible +companions, the virgins, who are ever near me and aid me. Listen, +listen!" + +Smiling, she had lifted up her hand with an air of the deepest +attention, and her whole being was in ecstasy from the scattered +breathings she heard. They were the virgins of the "Golden Legend" +that her imagination called forth, as in her early childhood, and +whose mystic flight came from the old book with its quaint pictures, +that was placed on the little table. Agnes was first, clothed with her +beautiful hair, having on her finger the ring of betrothal to the +Priest Paulin. Then all the others came in turn. Barbara with her +tower; Genevieve with her sheep; Cecilia with her viol; Agatha with +her wounded breast; Elizabeth begging on the highways, and Catherine +triumphing over the learned doctors. She did not forget the miracle +that made Lucy so heavy that a thousand men and five yoke of oxen +could not carry her away: nor the Governor who became blind as he +tried to embrace Anastasia. Then others who seemed flying through the +quiet night, still bearing marks of the wounds inflicted upon them by +their cruel martyrdom, and from which rivers of milk were flowing +instead of blood. Ah! to die from love like them, to die in the purity +of youth at the first kiss of a beloved one! + +Felicien had approached her. + +"I am the one person who really lives, Angelique, and you cannot give +me up for mere fancies." + +"Dreams!--fancies!" she murmured. + +"Yes; for if in reality these visions seem to surround you, it is +simply that you yourself have created them all. Come, dear; no longer +put a part of your life into objects about you, and they will be +quiet." + +She gave way to a burst of enthusiastic feeling. + +"Oh no! Let them speak. Let them call out louder still! They are my +strength; they give me the courage to resist you. It is a +manifestation of the Eternal Grace, and never has it overpowered me so +energetically as now. If it is but a dream, a dream which I have +placed in my surroundings, and which comes back to me at will, what of +it? It saves me, it carries me away spotless in the midst of dangers. +Listen yourself. Yield, and obey like me. I no longer have even a wish +to follow you." + +In spite of her weakness, she made a great effort and stood up, +resolute and firm. + +"But you have been deceived," he said. "Even falsehood has been +resorted to in order to separate us!" + +"The faults of others will not excuse our own." + +"Ah! You have withdrawn your heart from me, and you love me no +longer." + +"I love you. I oppose you only on account of our love and for our +mutual happiness. Obtain the consent of your father; then come for me, +and I will follow you no matter where." + +"My father! You do not know him. God only could ever make him yield. +Tell me, then, is this really to be the end of everything? If my +father orders me to marry Claire de Voincourt, must I in that case +obey him?" + +At this last blow Angelique tottered. Was no torture to be spared her? +She could not restrain this heartbroken cry: + +"Oh! that is too much! My sufferings are greater than I can bear. I +beseech you go away quickly and do not be so cruel. Why did you come +at all? I was resigned. I had learned to accept the misfortune of +being no longer loved by you. Yet the moment that I am reassured of +your affection, all my martyrdom recommences; and how can you expect +me to live now?" + +Felicien, not aware of the depth of her despair, and thinking that she +had yielded simply to a momentary feeling, repeated his question: + +"If my father wishes me to marry her----" + +She struggled heroically against her intense suffering; she succeeded +in standing up, notwithstanding that her heart was crushed, and +dragging herself slowly towards the table, as if to make room for him +to pass her, she said: + +"Marry her, for it is always necessary to obey." + +In his turn he was now before the window, ready to take his departure, +because she had sent him away from her. + +"But it will make you die if I do so." + +She had regained her calmness, and, smiling sadly, she replied: + +"Oh! that work is nearly done already." + +For one moment more he looked at her, so pale, so thin, so wan; light +as a feather, to be carried away by the faintest breath. Then, with a +brusque movement of furious resolution, he disappeared in the night. + +When he was no longer there, Angelique, leaning against the back of +her armchair, stretched her hands out in agony towards the darkness, +and her frail body was shaken by heavy sobs, and cold perspiration +came out upon her face and neck. + +"My God!" This, then, was the end, and she would never see him again. +All her weakness and pain had come back to her. Her exhausted limbs no +longer supported her. It was with great difficulty that she could +regain her bed, upon which she fell helpless, but calm in spirit from +the assurance that she had done right. + +The next morning they found her there, dying. The lamp had just gone +out of itself, at the dawn of day, and everything in the chamber was +of a triumphal whiteness. + + + + CHAPTER XVI + +Angelique was dying. + +It was ten o'clock one cold morning towards the end of the winter, the +air was sharp, and the clear heavens were brightened up by the +beautiful sunshine. In her great royal bed, draped with its old, +faded, rose-coloured chintz, she lay motionless, having been +unconscious during the whole night. Stretched upon her back, her +little ivory-like hands carelessly thrown upon the sheet, she no +longer even opened her eyes, and her finely-cut profile looked more +delicate than ever under the golden halo of her hair; in fact, anyone +who had seen her would have thought her already dead, had it not been +for the slight breathing movement of her lips. + +The day before, Angelique, realising that she was very ill, had +confessed, and partaken of the Communion. Towards three o'clock in the +afternoon the good Abbe Cornille had brought to her the sacred +_Viaticum_. Then in the evening, as the chill of death gradually crept +over her, a great desire came to her to receive the Extreme Unction, +that celestial remedy, instituted for the cure of both the soul and +body. Before losing consciousness, her last words, scarcely murmured, +were understood by Hubertine, as in hesitating sentences she expressed +her wish for the holy oils. "Yes--oh yes!--as quickly--as possible-- +before it is too late." + +But death advanced. They had waited until day, and the Abbe, having +been notified, was about to come. + +Everything was now ready to receive the clergyman. The Huberts had +just finished arranging the room. Under the gay sunlight, which at +this early morning hour struck fully upon the window-panes, it looked +pure as the dawn in the nudity of its great white walls. The table had +been covered with a fresh damask cloth. At the right and the left of +the crucifix two large wax-tapers were burning in the silver +candelabrum which had been brought up from the parlour, and there were +also there the consecrated wafers, the asperges brush, an ewer of +water with its basin and a napkin, and two plates of white porcelain, +one of which was filled with long bits of cotton, and the other with +little _cornets_ of paper. The greenhouses of the lower town had been +thoroughly searched, but the only inodorous flowers that had been +found were the peonies--great white peonies, enormous tufts of which +adorned the table, like a shimmering of white lace. And in the midst +of this intense whiteness, Angelique, dying, with closed eyes, still +breathed gently with a half-perceptible breath. + +The doctor, who had made his first morning visit, had said that she +could not live through the day. She might, indeed, pass away at any +moment, without even having come to her senses at all. The Huberts, +resolute and grave, waited in silent despair. Notwithstanding their +grief and tears, it was evidently necessary that this should be the +end. If they had ever wished for this death, preferring to lose their +dear child rather than to have her rebellious, it was evident that God +also wished it with them, and now, that in this last trying moment +they were quite powerless, they could only submit themselves to the +inevitable. They regretted nothing, although their sorrow seemed +greater than they could bear. Since she, their darling, had been +there, suffering from her long illness, they had taken the entire care +of her day and night, refusing all aid offered them from outside. They +were still there alone in this supreme hour, and they waited. + +Hubert, scarcely knowing what he did, walked mechanically to the +porcelain stove, the door of which he opened, for the gentle roaring +of the flaming wood sounded to him like a plaintive moan; then there +was a perfect silence. The peonies seemed even to turn paler in the +soft heat of the room. + +Hubertine, stronger than her husband, and still fully conscious of all +she did, listened to the sounds of the Cathedral as they came to her +from behind the walls. During the past moment the old stones had +vibrated from the swinging of the bell of the great tower. It must +certainly be the Abbe Cornille leaving the church with the sacred +oils, she thought; so she went downstairs, that she might receive him +at the door of the house. + +Two minutes later, the narrow stairway of the little tower was filled +with a great murmuring sound. Then in the warm chamber, Hubert, struck +with astonishment, suddenly began to tremble, whilst a religious fear, +mingled with a faint hope, made him fall upon his knees. Instead of +the old clergyman whom they had expected, it was Monseigneur who +entered. Yes! Monseigneur, in lace surplice, having the violet stole, +and carrying the silver vessel in which was the oil for the sick, +which he himself had blessed on Holy Thursday. His eagle-like eyes +were fixed, as he looked straight before him; his beautiful pale face +was really majestic under the thick, curly masses of his white hair. +Behind him walked the Abbe Cornille, like a simple clerk, carrying in +one hand a crucifix, and under the other a book of ritual service. + +Standing for a moment upon the threshold, the bishop said in a deep, +grave voice: + +"_Pax huic domui_." ("Peace be to this house.") + +"_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_," replied the priest in a lower tone. +("And to all the inhabitants thereof.") + +When they had entered, Hubertine, who had come up the stairs after +them, she also trembling from surprise and emotion, went and knelt by +the side of her husband. Both of them prostrated themselves most +humbly, and prayed fervently from the depths of their souls. + +A few hours after his last visit to Angelique, Felicien had had the +terrible and dreaded explanation with his father. Early in the morning +of that same day he had found open the doors, he had penetrated even +into the Oratory, where the Bishop was still at prayer, after one of +those nights of frightful struggling against the memories of the past, +which would so constantly reappear before him. In the soul of this +hitherto always respectful son, until now kept submissive by fear, +rebellion against authority, so long a time stifled, suddenly broke +forth, and the collision of these two men of the same blood, with +natures equally prompt to violence, was intense. The old man had left +his devotional chair, and with cheeks growing purple by degrees, he +listened silently as he stood there in his proud obstinacy. The young +man, with face equally inflamed, poured out everything that was in his +heart, speaking in a voice that little by little grew louder and +rebuking. He said that Angelique was not only ill, but dying. He told +him that in a pressing moment of temptation, overcome by his deep +affection, he had wished to take her away with him that they might +flee together, and that she, with the submissive humility of a saint, +and chaste as a lily, had refused to accompany him. Would it not be a +most abominable murder to allow this obedient young girl to die, +because she had been unwilling to accept him unless when offered to +her by the hand of his father? She loved him so sincerely that she +could die for him. In fact, she could have had him, with his name and +his fortune, but she had said "No," and, triumphant over her feelings, +she had struggled with herself in order to do her duty. Now, after +such a proof of her goodness, could he permit her to suffer so much +grief? Like her, he would be willing to give up everything, to die +even, if it might be, and he realised that he was cowardly. He +despised himself for not being at her side, that they might pass out +of life together, by the same breath. Was it possible that anyone +could be so cruel as to wish to torment them, that they should both +have so sad a death, when one word, one simple word, would secure them +such bliss? Ah! the pride of name, the glory of wealth, persistence in +one's determination: all these were nothing in comparison to the fact +that by the union of two hearts the eternal happiness of two human +beings was assured. He joined his hands together, he twisted them +feverishly, quite beside himself as he demanded his father's consent, +still supplicating, already almost threatening. But the Bishop, with +face deeply flushed by the mounting of his blood, with swollen lips, +with flaming eyes, terrible in his unexpressed anger, at last opened +his mouth, only to reply by this word of parental authority: "Never!" + +Then Felicien, absolutely raving in his rebellion, lost all control +over himself. + +He spoke of his mother, he really threatened his father by the +remembrance of the dead. It was she who had come back again in the +shape of her son to vindicate and reclaim the right of affection. +Could it be that his father had never loved her? Had he even rejoiced +in her death, since he showed himself so harsh towards those who loved +each other, and who wished to live? But he might well do all he could +to become cold in the renunciations demanded by the Church; she would +come back to haunt and to torture him, because he was willing to +torture the child they had had, the living witness of their affection +for each other. She would always be there, so long as their son lived. +She wished to reappear in the children of their child for ever. And he +was causing her to die over again, by refusing to her son the +betrothed of his choice, the one through whom the race was to be +continued. When a man had once been married to a woman, he should +never think of wedding the Church. Face to face with his father, who, +motionless, appeared in his fearful silence to grow taller and taller, +he uttered unfilial, almost murderous words. Then, shocked at himself, +he rushed away, shuddering at the extent to which passion had carried +him. + +When once more alone, Monseigneur, as if stabbed in the full breast by +a sharp weapon, turned back upon himself and struggled deeply with his +soul, as he knelt upon his prie-Dieu. A half-rattling sound came from +his throat. Oh! these frightful heart contests, these invincible +weaknesses of the flesh. This woman, and his beloved dead, who was +constantly coming back to life, he adored her now, as he did the first +evening when he kissed her white feet; and this son, he idolised him +as belonging to her, as a part of her life, which she had left to him. +And even the young girl, the little working girl whom he had repulsed, +he loved her also with a tenderness like that of his son for her. Now +his nights were inexpressibly agitated by all three. Without his +having been willing to acknowledge it, had she then touched him so +deeply as he saw her in the great Cathedral, this little embroiderer, +with her golden hair, her fresh pure neck, in all the perfume of her +youth? He saw her again; she passed before him, so delicate, so pure +in her victorious submission. No remorse could have come to him with a +step more certain or more conquering. He might reject her with a loud +voice. He knew well that henceforth she held him strongly by the heart +with her humble hands that bore the signs of work. Whilst Felicien was +so violently beseeching him, he seemed to see them both behind the +blonde head of the petitioner--these two idolised women, the one for +whom his son prayed, and the one who had died for her child. They were +there in all their physical beauty, in all their loving devotion, and +he could not tell where he had found strength to resist, so entirely +did his whole being go out towards them. Overcome, sobbing, not +knowing how he could again become calm, he demanded from Heaven the +courage to tear out his heart, since this heart belonged no longer to +God alone. + +Until evening Monseigneur continued at prayer. When he at last +reappeared he was white as wax, distressed, anxious, but still +resolute. He could do nothing more, but he repeated to his son the +terrible word--"Never!" It was God alone who had the right to relieve +him from his promise; and God, although implored, gave him no sign of +change. It was necessary to suffer. + +Some days had passed. Felicien constantly wandered round the little +house, wild with grief, eager for news. Each time that he saw anyone +come out he almost fainted from fear. Thus it happened that on the +morning when Hubertine ran to the church to ask for the sacred oils, +he learned that Angelique could not live through the day. The Abbe +Cornille was not at the Sacristy, and he rushed about the town to find +him, still having a last hope that through the intervention of the +good man some Divine aid might come. Then, as he brought back with him +the sought-for clergyman, his hope left him, and he had a frightful +attack of doubt and anger. What should he do? In what way could he +force Heaven to come to his assistance? He went away, hastened to the +Bishop's palace, the doors of which he again forced open, and before +his incoherent words his father was for a moment frightened. At last +he understood. Angelique was dying! She awaited the Extreme Unction, +and now God alone could save her. The young man had only come to cry +out all his agony, to break all relations with this cruel, unnatural +father, and to accuse him to his face of willingly allowing this +death. But Monseigneur listened to him without anger: upright and very +serious, his eyes suddenly brightened with a strange clearness, as if +an inner voice had spoken to him. Motioning to his son to lead the +way, he followed him, simply saying at last: + +"If God wishes it, I also wish it." + +Felicien trembled so that he could scarcely move. His father +consented, freed from his personal vow, to submit himself to the +goodwill of the hoped-for miracle. Henceforth they, as individuals, +counted for nothing. God must act for himself. Tears blinded him. +Whilst in the Sacristy Monseigneur took the sacred oils from the hands +of the Abbe Cornille. He accompanied them, almost staggering; he did +not dare to enter into the chamber, but fell upon his knees at the +threshold of the door, which was open wide. + +The voice of the Bishop was firm, as he said: + +"_Pax huic domui_." + +"_Et omnibus habitantibus in ea_," the priest replied. + +Monseigneur had just placed on the white table, between the two wax- +candles, the sacred oils, making in the air the sign of the cross, +with the silver vase. Then he took from the hands of the Abbe the +crucifix, and approached the sufferer that he might make her kiss it. +But Angelique was still unconscious: her eyes were closed, her mouth +shut, her hands rigid, and looking like the little stiff figures of +stone placed upon tombs. He examined her for a moment, and, seeing by +the slight movement of her chest that she was not dead, he placed upon +her lips the crucifix. He waited. His face preserved the majesty of a +minister of penitence, and no signs of emotion were visible when he +realised that not even a quivering had passed over the exquisite +profile of the young girl, nor in her beautiful hair. She still lived, +however, and that was sufficient for the redemption of her sins. + +The Abbe then gave to Monseigneur the vessel of holy water and the +asperges brush, and while he held open before him the ritual book, he +threw the holy water upon the dying girl, as he read the Latin words, +_Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem +dealbabor_. ("Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be +clean: thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.") + +The drops sprang forth in every direction, and the whole bed was +refreshed by them as if sprinkled with dew. It rained upon her hands +and upon her cheeks; but one by one the drops rolled away as if from +insensible marble. At last the Bishop turned towards the assistants +and sprinkled them in their turn. Hubert and Hubertine, kneeling side +by side, in the full union of their perfect faith, bent humbly under +the shower of this benediction. Then Monseigneur blessed also the +chamber, the furniture, the white walls in all their bare purity, and +as he passed near the door he found himself before his son, who had +fallen down on the threshold, and was sobbing violently, having +covered his face with his burning hands. With a slow movement, he +raised three times the asperges brush, and he purified him with a +gentle rain. This holy water, spread everywhere, was intended at first +to drive away all evil spirits, who were flying by crowds, although +invisible. Just at this moment a pale ray of the winter sun passed +over the bed, and a multitude of atoms, light specks of dust, seemed +to be living therein. They were innumerable as they came down from an +angle of the window, as if to bathe with their warmth the cold hands +of the dying. + +Going again towards the table, Monseigneur repeated the prayer, +"_Exaudi nos_." ("Give ear to us.") + +He made no haste. It was true that death was there, hovering near the +old, faded chintz curtains, but he knew that it was patient, and that +it would wait. And although in her state of utter prostration the +child could not hear him, he addressed her as he asked her: + +"Is there nothing upon your conscience which distresses you? Confess +all your doubts and fears, my daughter; relieve your mind." + +She was still in the same position, and she was always silent. When, +in vain, he had given time for a reply, he commenced the exhortation +with the same full voice, without appearing to notice that none of his +words reached her ear. + +"Collect your thoughts, meditate, demand from the depths of your soul +pardon from God. The Sacrament will purify you, and will strengthen +you anew. Your eyes will become clear, your ears chaste, your nostrils +fresh, your mouth pure, your hands innocent." + +With eyes fixed upon her, he continued reading to the end all that was +necessary for him to say; while she scarcely breathed, nor did one of +her closed eyelids move. Then he said: + +"Recite the Creed." + +And having waited awhile, he repeated it himself: + +"_Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem_." ("I believe in one God, +the Father Almighty.") + +"Amen," replied the Abbe Cornille. + +All this time the heavy sobbing of Felicien was heard, as upon the +landing-place he wept in the enervation of hope. Hubert and Hubertine +still prayed fervently, with the same anxious waiting and desire, as +if they had felt descend upon them all the invisible powers of the +Unknown. A change now came in the service, from the murmur of half- +spoken prayers. Then the litanies of the ritual were unfolded, the +invocation to all the Saints, the flight of the Kyrie Eleison, calling +Heaven to the aid of miserable humanity, mounting each time with great +outbursts, like the fume of incense. + +Then the voices suddenly fell, and there was a deep silence. +Monseigneur washed his fingers in the few drops of water that the Abbe +poured out from the ewer. At length he took the vessel of sacred oil, +opened the cover thereof, and placed himself before the bed. It was +the solemn approach of the Sacrament of this last religious ceremony, +by the efficacy of which are effaced all mortal or venial sins not +pardoned, which rest in the soul after having received the other +sacraments, old remains of forgotten sins, sins committed unwittingly, +sins of languor which prevented one from being firmly re-established +in the grace of God. The pure white chamber seemed to be like the +individuals collected therein, motionless, and in a state of surprise +and expectation. Where could all these sins be found? They must +certainly come from outside in this great band of sun's rays, filled +with dancing specks of dust, which appeared to bring germs of life +even to this great royal couch, so white and cold from the coming of +death to a pure young maiden. + +Monseigneur meditated a moment, fixing his looks again upon Angelique, +assuring himself that the slight breath had not ceased, struggling +against all human emotion, as he saw how thin she was, with the beauty +of an archangel, already immaterial. His voice retained the authority +of a divine disinterestedness, and his thumb did not tremble when he +dipped it into the sacred oils as he commenced the unctions on the +five parts of the body where dwell the senses: the five windows by +which evil enters into the soul. + +First upon the eyes, upon the closed eyelids, the right and then the +left; and slowly, lightly, he traced with his thumb the sign of the +Cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum deliquisti_." ("By this holy +anointing and His gracious mercy, the Lord forgive whatever sins thou +hast committed through _seeing_.")[*] + +[*] This formula is repeated with reference to the other senses-- + hearing, smell, taste, and touch. + +And the sins of the sight were redeemed; lascivious looks, immodest +curiosity, the pride of spectacles, unwholesome readings, tears shed +for guilty troubles. + +And she, dear child, knew no other book than the "Golden Legend," no +other horizon than the apse of the Cathedral, which hid from view all +the rest of the world. She had wept only in the struggle of obedience +and the renunciation of passion. + +The Abbe Cornille wiped both her eyes with a bit of cotton, which he +afterwards put into one of the little cornets of paper. + +Then Monseigneur anointed the ears, with their lobes as delicate and +transparent as pearl, first the right ear, afterwards the left, +scarcely moistened with the sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per auditum deliquisti_." + +So all the abominations of hearing were atoned for: all the words and +music which corrupt, the slanders, the calumnies, the blasphemies, the +sinful propositions listened to with complacency, the falsehoods of +love which aided the forgetfulness of duty, the profane songs which +excited the senses, the violins of the orchestra which, as it were, +wept voluptuously under the brilliant lights. + +She in her isolated life, like that of a cloistered nun--she had never +even heard the free gossip of the neighbours, or the oath of a carman +as he whips his horses. The only music that had ever entered her ears +was that of the sacred hymns, the rumblings of the organs, the +confused murmurings of prayers, with which at times vibrated all this +fresh little house, so close to the side of the great church. + +The Abbe, after having dried the ears with cotton, put that bit also +into one of the white cornets. + +Monseigneur now passed to the nostrils, the right and then the left, +like two petals of a white rose, which he purified by touching them +with the sacred oil and making on them the sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per odoratum deliquisti_." + +And the sense of smell returned to its primitive innocence, cleansed +from all stain: not only from the carnal disgrace of perfumes, from +the seduction of flowers with breath too sweet, from the scattered +fragrances of the air which put the soul to sleep; but yet again from +the faults of the interior sense, the bad examples given to others, +and the contagious pestilence of scandal. Erect and pure, she had at +last become a lily among the lilies, a great lily whose perfume +fortified the weak and delighted the strong. In fact, she was so truly +delicate that she could never endure the powerful odour of carnations, +the musk of lilacs, the feverish sweetness of hyacinths, and was only +at ease with the scentless blossoms, like the marguerites and the +periwinkles. + +Once more the Abbe, with the cotton, dried the anointed parts, and +slipped the little tuft into another of the cornets. + +Then Monseigneur, descending to the closed mouth, through which the +faint breath was now scarcely perceptible, made upon the lower lip the +sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per gustum deliquisti_." + +This time it was the pardon for the base gratifications of taste, +greediness, too great a desire for wine, or for sweets; but especially +the forgiveness for sins of the tongue, that universally guilty +member, the provoker, the poisoner, the inventor of quarrels, the +inciter to wars, which makes one utter words of error and falsehood +which at length obscure even the heavens. Yet her whole mouth was only +a chalice of innocence. She had never had the vice of gluttony, for +she had taught herself, like Elizabeth, to eat whatever was set before +her, without paying great attention to her food. And if it were true +that she lived in error, it was the fault of her dream which had +placed her there, the hope of a beyond, the consolation of what was +invisible, and all the world of enchantment which her ignorance had +created and which had made of her a saint. + +The Abbe having dried the lips, folded the bit of cotton in the fourth +white cornet. + +At last Monseigneur anointed first the right and then the left palms +of the two little ivory-like hands, lying open upon the sheet, and +cleansed them from their sins with the sign of the cross. + +"_Per istam sanctam unctionem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, +indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per tactum deliquisti_." + +And the whole body was purified, being washed from its last spots-- +those of the touch the most repugnant of all. Pilfering, fighting, +murder, without counting other sins of the breast, the body, and the +feet, which were also redeemed by this unction. All which burns in the +flesh, our anger, our desires, our unruled passions, the snares and +pitfalls into which we run, and all forbidden joys by which we are +tempted. Since she had been there, dying from her victory over +herself, she had conquered her few failings, her pride and her +passion, as if she had inherited original sin simply for the glory of +triumphing over it. She knew not, even, that she had had other wishes, +that love had drawn her towards disobedience, so armed was she with +the breastplate of ignorance of evil, so pure and white was her soul. + +The Abbe wiped the little motionless hands, and putting the last puff +of cotton in the remaining cornet, he threw the five papers into the +fire at the back of the stove. + +The ceremony was finished. Monseigneur washed his fingers before +saying the final prayer. He had now only to again exhort the dying, in +placing in her hand the symbolic taper, to drive away the demons, and +to show that she had just recovered her baptismal innocence. But she +remained rigid, her eyes closed, her mouth shut as if dead. The holy +oils had purified her body, the signs of the cross had left their +traces on the five windows of the soul, without making the slightest +wave of colour, or of life, mount to her cheeks. + +Although implored and hoped for, the prodigy did not appear, and the +room was silent and anxious. Hubert and Hubertine, still kneeling side +by side, no longer prayed, but, with their eyes fixed upon their +darling, gazed so earnestly that they both seemed motionless for ever, +like the figures of the _donataires_ who await the Resurrection in a +corner of an old painted glass window. Felicien had drawn himself up +on his knees and was now at the door, having ceased from sobbing, as +with head erect he also might see if God would always remain deaf to +their prayers. Was it then a mere lure? Would not this holy Sacrament +bring her back to life? + +For the last time Monseigneur approached the bed, followed by the Abbe +Cornille, who held, already lighted, the wax-taper which was to be +placed in the hand of the young girl. And the Bishop, not willing to +acknowledge the state of unconsciousness in which she remained, +determining to go even to the end of the rite, that God might have +time in which to work, pronounced the formula:-- + +"_Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas +in saecula saeculorum_." ("Receive this light, and keep the unction +thou hast received, that when the Lord shall come to judgment thou +mayest meet Him with all His saints, and live with Him for ever and +ever.") + +"Amen," replied the Abbe. + +But when they endeavoured to open Angelique's hand and to press it +round the taper, the hand, powerless, as if already dead, escaped them +and fell back upon her breast. + +Then, little by little, Monseigneur yielded to a great nervous +trembling. It was the emotion which, for a long time restrained, now +broke out within him, carrying away with it the last rigidity of +priesthood. He dearly loved her, this child, from the day when she had +come to sob at his feet, so innocent, and showing so plainly the pure +freshness of her youth. Since then, in his nights of distress, he had +contended chiefly against her, to defend himself from the overwhelming +tenderness with which she inspired him. At this moment she was worthy +of pity, with this pallor of death, with an ethereal beauty which +showed, however, so deep a suffering that he could not look at her +without his heart being secretly overwhelmed with distress. + +He could no longer control himself. His eyelids were swollen by the +great tears which at last rolled down his cheeks. She must not die in +this way: he was conquered by her touching charms even in death, and +all his paternal feelings went out towards her. + +Then Monseigneur, recalling to mind the numerous miracles of his race, +the power which had been given them by Heaven to heal, thought that +doubtless God awaited his consent as a father. He invoked Saint Agnes, +before whom all his ancestors had offered up their devotions, and as +Jean V d'Hautecoeur prayed at the bedside of those smitten by the +plague and kissed them, so now he prayed and kissed Angelique upon her +lips. + +"If God wishes, I also wish it." + +Immediately Angelique opened her eyelids. She looked at the Bishop +without surprise as she awoke from her long trance, and, her lips +still warm from the kiss, smiled upon him. These things were not +strange to her, for they certainly must have been realised sooner or +later, and it might be that she was coming out of one dream only to +have another still; but it seemed to her perfectly natural that +Monseigneur should have come to betroth her to Felicien, since the +hour for that ceremony had arrived. In a few minutes, unaided, she sat +up in the middle of her great royal bed. + +The Bishop, radiant, showing by his expression his clear appreciation +of the remarkable prodigy, repeated the formula:-- + +"_Accipe lampadem ardentem, custodi unctionem tuam, ut cum Dominus ad +judicandum venerit, possis occurrere ei cum omnibus sanctis et vivas +in saecula saeculorum_." + +"Amen," replied the Abbe. + +Angelique had taken the lighted taper, and held it up with a firm +hand. Life had come back to her, like the flame of the candle, which +was burning clear and bright, driving away the spirits of the night. + +A great cry resounded through the room. Felicien was standing up, as +if raised by the power of the miracle, while the Huberts, overwhelmed +by the same feeling, remained upon their knees, with wonder-stricken +eyes, with delighted countenances, before that which they had seen. +The bed had appeared to them enveloped with a brilliant light; white +masses seemed still to be mounting up on the rays of the sunlight, and +the great walls, the whole room in fact, kept a white lustre, as that +of snow. + +In the midst of all, Angelique, like a refreshed lily, replaced upon +its branch, appeared in the clear light. Her fine golden hair was like +a halo of glory around her head, her violet-coloured eyes shone +divinely, and her pure face beamed with a living splendour. + +Felicien, seeing that she was saved, touched by the Divine grace that +Heaven had vouchsafed them, approached her, and knelt by the side of +the bed. + +"Ah! dear soul, you recognise us now, and you will live. I am yours. +My father wishes it to be so, since God has desired it." + +She bowed her head, smiling sweetly as she said, "Oh! I knew it must +be so, and waited for it. All that I have foreseen will come to pass." + +Monseigneur, who had regained his usual proud serenity, placed the +crucifix once more on her lips, and this time she kissed it as a +submissive servant. Then, with a full movement of his hands, through +the room, above the heads of all present, the Bishop gave the final +benediction, while the Huberts and the Abbe Cornille wept. + +Felicien had taken one of the little hands of Angelique, while in the +other little hand the taper of innocence burned bright and clear. + + + + CHAPTER XVII + +The marriage was fixed for the early part of March. But Angelique +remained very feeble, notwithstanding the joy which radiated from her +whole person. She had wished after the first week of her convalescence +to go down to the workroom, persisting in her determination to finish +the panel of embroidery in bas-relief which was to be used for the +Bishop's chair. + +"It would be," she said cheerfully, "her last, best piece of work; and +besides, no one ever leaves," she added, "an order only half- +completed." + +Then exhausted by the effort, she was again forced to keep her +chamber. She lived there, happy and smiling, without regaining the +full health of former times, always white and immaterial as the sacred +sacramental oils; going and coming with a gentle step like that of a +vision, and after having occasionally made the exertion of walking as +far as from her table to the window, finding herself obliged to rest +quietly for hours and give herself up to her sweet thoughts. At length +they deferred the wedding-day, thinking it better to wait for her +complete recovery, which must certainly come if she were well nursed +and cared for. + +Every afternoon Felicien went up to see her. Hubert and Hubertine were +there, and they passed together most delightful hours, during which +they continually made and re-made the same bright projects. Seated in +her great chair she laughed gaily, seemed trembling with life and +vivacity, as she was the first to talk of the days which would be so +well filled when together they could take long journeys; and of all +the unknown joys that would come to them after they had restored the +old Chateau d'Hautecoeur. Anyone, to have seen her then, would have +considered her saved and regaining her strength in the backward +spring, the air of which, growing warmer and warmer daily, entered by +the open window. In fact, she never fell back into the deep gravities +of her dreams, except when she was entirely alone and was not afraid +of being seen. In the night, voices still appeared to be near her: +then it seemed as if the earth were calling to her; and at last the +truth was clearly revealed to her, so that she fully understood that +the miracle was being continued only for the realisation of her dream. +Was she not already dead, having simply the appearance of living, +thanks to the respite which had been granted her from Divine Grace? +This idea soothed her with deep gentleness in her hours of solitude, +and she did not feel a moment's regret at the thought of being called +away from life in the midst of her happiness, so certain was she of +always realising to its fullest extent her anticipated joy. The +cheerfulness she had hitherto shown became simply a little more +serious; she abandoned herself to it quietly, forgetting her physical +weakness as she indulged in the pure delights of fancy. It was only +when she heard the Huberts open the door, or when Felicien came to see +her, that she was able to sit upright, to bring her thoughts back to +her surroundings, and to appear as if she were regaining her health, +laughing pleasantly while she talked of their years of happy +housekeeping far away, in the days to come. + +Towards the end of March Angelique grew very restless and much weaker. +Twice, when by herself, she had long fainting fits. One morning she +fell at the foot of her bed, just as Hubert was bringing her up a cup +of milk; by a great effort of will she conquered herself, and, that +she might deceive him, she remained on the floor and smiled, as she +pretended to be looking for a needle that had been dropped. The +following day she was gayer than usual, and proposed hastening the +marriage, suggesting that at all events it should not be put off any +later than the middle of April. All the others exclaimed at this idea, +asking if it would not be advisable to wait awhile, since she was +still so delicate. There was no need of being in such a hurry. She, +however, seemed feverishly nervous, and insisted that the ceremony +should take place immediately--yes, as soon as possible. Hubertine, +surprised at the request, having a suspicion as to the true motive of +this eagerness, looked at her earnestly for a moment, and turned very +pale as she realised how slight was the cold breath which still +attached her daughter to life. The dear invalid had already grown +calm, in her tender need of consoling others and keeping them under an +illusion, although she knew personally that her case was hopeless. +Hubert and Felicien, in continual adoration before their idol, had +neither seen nor felt anything unusual. Then Angelique, exerting +herself almost supernaturally, rose up, and was more charming than +ever, as she slowly moved back and forth with the light step of former +days. She continued to speak of her wish, saying if it were granted +she would be so happy, and that after the wedding she would certainly +be cured. Moreover, the question should be left to Monseigneur; he +alone should decide it. That same evening, when the Bishop was there, +she explained her desire to him, fixing her eyes on his, regarding him +steadily and beseechingly, and speaking in her sweet, earnest voice, +under which there was hidden an ardent supplication, unexpressed in +words. Monseigneur realised it, and understood the truth, and he +appointed a day in the middle of April for the ceremony. + +Then they lived in great commotion from the necessary bustle attendant +upon the preparations for the marriage. Notwithstanding his official +position as guardian, Hubert was obliged to ask permission, or rather +the consent of the Director of Public Assistance, who always +represented the family council, Angelique not yet being of age; and +Monsieur Grandsire, the Justice of the Peace, was charged with all +legal details, in order to avoid as much as possible the painful side +of the position to the young girl and to Felicien. But the dear child, +realising that something was being kept back, asked one day to have +her little book brought up to her, wishing to put it herself into the +hands of her betrothed. She was now, and would henceforth remain, in a +state of such sincere humility that she wished him to know thoroughly +from what a low position he had drawn her, to elevate her to the glory +of his well-honoured name and his great fortune. These were her +parchments, her titles to nobility; her position was explained by this +official document, this entry on the calendar where there was only a +date followed by a number. She turned over all the leaves once more, +then gave it to him without being confused, happy in thinking that in +herself she was nothing, but that she owed everything to him. So +deeply touched was he by this act, that he knelt down, kissed her +hands while tears came to his eyes, as if it were she who had made him +the one gift, the royal gift of her heart. + +For two weeks the preparations occupied all Beaumont, both the upper +and the lower town being in a state of great excitement therefrom. It +was said that twenty working-girls were engaged day and night upon the +trousseau. The wedding-dress alone required three persons to make it, +and there was to be a _corbeille_, or present from the bridegroom, to +the value of a million of francs: a fluttering of laces, of velvets, +of silks and satins, a flood of precious stones--diamonds worthy a +Queen. But that which excited the people more than all else was the +great amount given in charity, the bride having wished to distribute +to the poor as much as she had received herself. So another million +was showered down upon the country in a rain of gold. At length she +was able to gratify all her old longings of benevolence, all the +prodigalities of her most exaggerated dreams, as with open hands she +let fall upon the wretched and needy a stream of riches, an overflow +of comforts. In her little, white, bare chamber, confined to her old +armchair, she laughed with delight when the Abbe Cornille brought to +her the list of the distributions he had made. "Give more! Give more!" +she cried, as it seemed to her as if not enough were done. She would, +in reality, have liked to have seen the Pere Mascart seated for ever +at a table before a princely banquet; the Chouteaux living in palatial +luxury; the _mere_ Gabet cured of her rheumatism, and by the aid of +money to have renewed her youth. As for the Lemballeuse, the mother +and daughters, she absolutely wished to load them with silk dresses +and jewellery. The hail of golden pieces redoubled over the town as in +fairy-tales, far beyond the daily necessities, as if merely for the +beauty and joy of seeing the triumphal golden glory, thrown from full +hands, falling into the street and glittering in the great sunlight of +charity. + +At last, on the eve of the happy day, everything was in readiness. +Felicien had bought a large house on the Rue Magloire, at the back of +the Bishop's palace, which had been fitted up and furnished most +luxuriously. There were great rooms hung with admirable tapestries, +filled with the most beautiful articles imaginable; a salon in old, +rare pieces of hand embroidery; a boudoir in blue, soft as the early +morning sky; and a sleeping-room, which was particularly attractive: a +perfect little corner of white silk and lace--nothing, in short, but +white, airy, and light--an exquisite shimmering of purity. But +Angelique had constantly refused to go to see all these wonderful +things, although a carriage was always ready to convey her there. She +listened to the recital of that which had been done with an enchanted +smile, but she gave no orders, and did not appear to wish to occupy +herself with any of the arrangements. "No, no," she said, for all +these things seemed so far away in the unknown of that vast world of +which she was as yet totally ignorant. Since those who loved her had +prepared for her so tenderly this happiness, she desired to partake +thereof, and to enter therein like a princess coming from some +chimerical country, who approaches the real kingdom where she is to +reign for ever. In the same way she preferred to know nothing, except +by hearsay, of the _corbeille_, which also was waiting for her--a +superb gift from her betrothed, the wedding outfit of fine linen, +embroidered with her cipher as marchioness, the full-dress costumes +tastefully trimmed, the old family jewels valuable as the richest +treasures of a cathedral, and the modern jewels in their marvellous +yet delicate mountings, precious stones of every kind, and diamonds of +the purest water. It was sufficient to her that her dream had come to +pass, and that this good future awaited her in her new home, radiant +in the reality of the new life that was opening before her. The only +thing she saw was her wedding-dress, which was brought to her on the +marriage morning. + +That day, when she awoke, Angelique, still alone, had in her great bed +a moment of intense exhaustion, and feared that she would not be able +to get up at all. She attempted to do so, but her knees bent under +her; and in contrast to the brave serenity she had shown for weeks +past, a fearful anguish, the last, perhaps, took utter possession of +her. Then, as in a few minutes Hubertine came into the room, looking +unusually happy, she was surprised to find that she could really walk, +for she certainly did not do so from her own strength, but aid came to +her from the Invisible, and friendly hands sustained and carried her. +They dressed her; she no longer seemed to weigh anything, but was so +slight and frail that her mother was astonished, and laughingly begged +her not to move any more if she did not wish to fly quite away. During +all the time of preparing her toilette, the little fresh house of the +Huberts, so close to the side of the Cathedral, trembled under the +great breath of the Giant, of that which already was humming therein, +of the preparations for the ceremony, the nervous activity of the +clergy, and especially the ringing of the bells, a continuous peal of +joy, with which the old stones were vibrating. + +In the upper town, for over an hour there had been a glorious chiming +of bells, as on the greatest holy days. The sun had risen in all its +beauty, and on this limpid April morning a flood of spring rays seemed +living with the sonorous peals which had called together all the +inhabitants of the place. The whole of Beaumont was in a state of +rejoicing on account of the marriage of this little embroiderer, to +whom their hearts were so deeply attached, and they were touched by +the fact of her royal good fortune. This bright sunlight, which +penetrated all the streets, was like the golden rain, the gifts of +fairy-tales, rolling out from her delicate hands. Under this joyful +light, the multitude crowded in masses towards the Cathedral, filling +the side-aisles of the church, and coming out on to the Place du +Cloitre. There the great front of the building rose up, like a huge +bouquet of stone, in full blossom, of the most ornamental Gothic, +above the severe Romanesque of the foundation. In the tower the bells +still rung, and the whole facade seemed to be like a glorification of +these nuptials, expressive of the flight of this poor girl through all +the wonders of the miracle, as it darted up and flamed, with its open +lace-work ornamentations, the lily-like efflorescence of its little +columns, its balustrades, and its arches, the niches of saints +surmounted with canopies, the gable ends hollowed out in trefoil +points, adorned with crossettes and flowers, immense rose-windows +opening out in the mystic radiation of their mullions. + +At ten o'clock the organs pealed. Angelique and Felicien were there, +walking with slow steps towards the high altar, between the closely- +pressed ranks of the crowd. A breath of sincere, touching admiration +came from every side. He, deeply moved, passed along proud and +serious, with his blonde beauty of a young god appearing slighter than +ever from his closely-fitting black dress-coat. But she, above all, +struck the hearts of the spectators, so exquisite was she, so divinely +beautiful with a mystic, spiritual charm. Her dress was of white +watered silk, simply covered with rare old Mechlin lace, which was +held by pearls, a whole setting of them designing the ruches of the +waist and the ruffles of the skirt. A veil of old English point was +fastened to her head by a triple crown of pearls, and falling to her +feet, quite covered her. That was all--not a flower, not a jewel, +nothing but this slight vision, this delicate, trembling cloud, which +seemed to have placed her sweet little face between two white wings, +like that of the Virgin of the painted glass window, with her violet +eyes and her golden hair. + +Two armchairs, covered with crimson velvet, had been placed for +Felicien and Angelique before the altar; and directly behind them, +while the organs increased their phrases of welcome, Hubert and +Hubertine knelt on the low benches which were destined for the family. +The day before an intense joy had come to them, from the effects of +which they had not yet recovered, and they were incapable of +expressing their deep, heartfelt thanks for their own happiness, which +was so closely connected with that of their daughter. Hubertine, +having gone once more to the cemetery, saddened by the thought of +their loneliness, and the little house, which would seem so empty +after the departure of the dearly-beloved child, had prayed to her +mother for a long time; when suddenly she felt within her an +inexplicable relief and gladness, which convinced her that at last her +petition had been granted. From the depths of the earth, after more +than twenty years, the obstinate mother had forgiven them, and sent +them the child of pardon so ardently desired and longed for. Was this +the recompense of their charity towards the poor forlorn little +creature whom they had found one snowy day at the Cathedral entrance, +and who to-day was to wed a prince with all the show and pomp of the +greatest ceremony? They remained on their knees, without praying in +formulated words, enraptured with gratitude, their whole souls +overflowing with an excess of infinite thanksgiving. And on the other +side of the nave, seated on his high, official throne, Monseigneur was +also one of the family group. He seemed filled with the majesty of the +God whom he represented; he was resplendent in the glory of his sacred +vestments, and the expression of his countenance was that of a proud +serenity, as if he were entirely freed from all worldly passions. +Above his head, on the panel of wonderful embroidery, were two angels +supporting the brilliant coat of arms of Hautecoeur. + +Then the solemn service began. All the clergy connected with the +cathedral were present to do honour to their Bishop, and priests had +come from the different parishes to assist them. Among the crowd of +white surplices which seemed to overflow the grating, shone the golden +capes of the choristers, and the red robes of the singing-boys. The +almost eternal night of the side-aisles, crushed down by the weight of +the heavy Romanesque chapels, was this morning slightly brightened by +the limpid April sunlight, which struck the painted glass of the +windows so that they seemed to be a burning of gems, a sacred bursting +into blossom of luminous flowers. But the background of the nave +particularly blazed with a swarming of wax-tapers, tapers as +innumerable as the stars of evening in a summer sky. In the centre, +the high altar seemed on fire from them, a true "burning bush," +symbolic of the flame that consumes souls; and there were also candles +in large candelabra and in chandeliers, while before the plighted +couple, two enormous lustres with round branches looked like two suns. +About them was a garden of masses of green plants and of living +blossoms, where were in flower great tufts of white azaleas, of white +camellias, and of lilacs. Away to the back of the apse sparkled bits +of gold and silver, half-seen skirts of velvet and of silk, a distant +dazzling of the tabernacle among the sombre surroundings of green +verdure. Above all this burning the nave sprang out, and the four +enormous pillars of the transept mounted upward to support the arched +vaulting, in the trembling movement of these myriads of little flames, +which almost seemed to pale at times in the full daylight which +entered by the high Gothic windows. + +Angelique had wished to be married by the good Abbe Cornille, and when +she saw him come forward in his surplice, and with the white stole, +followed by two clerks, she smiled. This was at last the triumphant +realisation of her dream--she was wedding fortune, beauty, and power +far beyond her wildest hopes. The church itself was singing by the +organs, radiant with its wax-tapers, and alive with the crowd of +believers and priests, whom she knew to be around her on every side. +Never had the old building been more brilliant or filled with a more +regal pomp, enlarged as it were in its holy, sacred luxury, by an +expansion of happiness. Angelique smiled again in the full knowledge +that death was at her heart, celebrating its victory over her, in the +midst of this glorious joy. In entering the Cathedral she had glanced +at the Chapel d'Hautecoeur, where slept Laurette and Balbine, the +"Happy Dead," who passed away when very young, in the full happiness +of their love. At this last hour she was indeed perfect. Victorious +over herself, reclaimed, renewed, having no longer any feeling of +passion or of pride at her triumph, resigned at the knowledge that her +life was fast leaving her, in this beautiful Hosanna of her great +friend, the blessed old church. When she fell upon her knees, it was +as a most humble, most submissive servant, entirely free from the +stain of original sin; and in her renunciation she was thoroughly +content. + +The Abbe Cornille, having mounted to the altar, had just come down +again. In a loud voice he made the exhortation; he cited as an example +the marriage which Jesus had contracted with the Church; he spoke of +the future, of days to come when they would live and govern themselves +in the true faith; of children whom they must bring up as Christians; +and then, once more, in face of this hope, Angelique again smiled +sweetly, while Felicien trembled at the idea of all this happiness, +which he believed to be assured. Then came the consecrated demands of +the ritual, the replies which united them together for their entire +existence, the decisive "Yes"--which she pronounced in a voice filled +with emotion from the depths of her heart, and which he said in a much +louder tone, and with a tender earnestness. The irrevocable step was +taken, the clergyman had placed their right hands together, one +clasping the other, as he repeated the prescribed formula: "I unite +you in matrimony, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of +the holy Ghost." But there were still rings to be blessed, the symbols +of inviolable fidelity, and of the eternity of the union, which is +lasting. In the silver basin, above the rings of gold, the priest +shook back and forth the asperges brush, and making the sign of the +Cross over each one, said, "Bless, O Lord, this ring." + +Then he presented them to the young couple, to testify to them that +the Church sanctified their union; that for the husband henceforth his +heart was sealed, and no other woman could ever enter therein; and the +husband was to place the ring upon his wife's finger in order to show +her, in his turn, that henceforth he alone among all men existed for +her. This was the strict union, without end, the sign of her +dependence upon him, which would recall to her constantly the vows she +had made; it was also the promise of a long series of years, to be +passed together, as if by this little circle of gold they were +attached to each other even to the grave. + +And while the priest, after the final prayers, exhorted them once +more, Angelique wore always the sweet expression of renunciation; she, +the pure soul, who knew the truth. + +Then, as the Abbe Cornille withdrew, accompanied by his clerks, the +organs again burst forth with peals of joy. Monseigneur, motionless +until now, bent towards the young couple with an expression of great +mildness in his eagle-like eyes. Still on their knees, the Huberts +lifted their heads, blinded by their tears of joy. And the enormous +depths of the organs' peals rolled and lost themselves by degrees in a +hail of little sharp notes, which were swept away under the high +arches, like the morning song of the lark. There was a long waving +movement, a half-hushed sound amongst the reverential crowd, who +filled to overflowing even the side-aisles and the nave. The church, +decorated with flowers, glittering with the taper lights, seemed +beaming with joy from the Sacrament. + +Then there were nearly two hours more of solemn pomp; the Mass being +sung and the incense being burnt. + +The officiating clergyman had appeared, dressed in his white chasuble, +accompanied by the director of the ceremonies, two censer-bearers +carrying the censer and the vase of incense, and two acolytes bearing +the great golden candlesticks, in which were lighted tapers. + +The presence of Monseigneur complicated the rites, the salutations, +and the kisses. Every moment there were bowings, or bendings of the +knee, which kept the wings of the surplices in constant motion. In the +old stalls, with their backs of carved wood, the whole chapter of +canons rose; and then again, at other times it was as if a breath from +heaven prostrated at once the clergy, by whom the whole apse was +filled. The officiating priest chanted at the altar. When he had +finished, he went to one side, and took his seat while the choir in +its turn for a long time continued the solemn phrases of the services +in the fine, clear notes of the young choristers, light and delicate +as the flutes of archangels. Among these voices was a very beautiful +one, unusually pure and crystalline, that of a young girl, and most +delicious to hear. It was said to be that of Mademoiselle Claire de +Voincourt, who had wished and obtained permission to sing at this +marriage, which had been so wonderfully secured by a miracle. The +organ which accompanied her appeared to sigh in a softened manner, +with the peaceful calm of a soul at ease and perfectly happy. + +There were occasionally short spells of silence. Then the music burst +out again with formidable rollings, while the master of the ceremonies +summoned the acolytes with their chandeliers, and conducted the +censer-bearers to the officiating clergyman, who blessed the incenses +in the vases. Now there was constantly heard the movements of the +censer, with the silvery sound of the little chains as they swung back +and forth in the clear light. There was in the air a bluish, sweet- +scented cloud, as they incensed the Bishop, the clergy, the altar, the +Gospel, each person and each thing in its turn, even the close crowd +of people, making the three movements, to the right, to the left, and +in front, to mark the Cross. + +In the meantime Angelique and Felicien, on their knees, listened +devoutly to the Mass, which is significant of the mysterious +consummation of the marriage of Jesus and the Church. There had been +given into the hands of each a lighted candle, symbol of the purity +preserved since their baptism. After the Lord's Prayer they had +remained under the veil, which is a sign of submission, of +bashfulness, and of modesty; and during this time the priest, standing +at the right-hand side of the altar, read the prescribed prayers. They +still held the lighted tapers, which serve also as a sign of +remembrance of death, even in the joy of a happy marriage. And now it +was finished, the offering was made, the officiating clergyman went +away, accompanied by the director of the ceremonies, the incense- +bearers, and the acolytes, after having prayed God to bless the newly- +wedded couple, in order that they might live to see and multiply their +children, even to the third and fourth generation. + +At this moment the entire Cathedral seemed living and exulting with +joy. The March Triumphal was being played upon the organs with such +thunder-like peals that they made the old edifice fairly tremble. The +entire crowd of people now rose, quite excited, and straining +themselves to see everything; women even mounted on the chairs, and +there were closely-pressed rows of heads as far back as the dark +chapels of the outer side-aisles. In this vast multitude every face +was smiling, every heart beat with sympathetic joy. In this final +adieu the thousands of tapers appeared to burn still higher, +stretching out their flames like tongues of fire, vacillating under +the vaulted arches. A last Hosanna from the clergy rose up through the +flowers and the verdure in the midst of the luxury of the ornaments +and the sacred vessels. But suddenly the great portal under the organs +was opened wide, and the sombre walls of the church were marked as if +by great sheets of daylight. It was the clear April morning, the +living sun of the spring-tide, the Place du Cloitre, which was now +seen with its tidy-looking, white houses; and there another crowd, +still more numerous, awaited the coming of the bride and bridegroom, +with a more impatient eagerness, which already showed itself by +gestures and acclamations. The candles had grown paler, and the noises +of the street were drowned in the music of the organs. + +With a slow step, between the double hedge of the worshippers, +Angelique and Felicien turned towards the entrance-door. After the +triumphant carrying out of her dream, she was now about to enter into +the reality of life. This porch of broad sunlight opened into the +world of which as yet she was entirely ignorant. She retarded her +steps as she looked earnestly at the rows of houses, at the tumultuous +crowd, at all which greeted and acclaimed her. Her weakness was so +intense that her husband was obliged to almost carry her. However, she +was still able to look pleased, as she thought of the princely house, +filled with jewels and with queenly toilettes, where the nuptial +chamber awaited her, all decorated with white silk and lace. Almost +suffocated, she was obliged to stop when halfway down the aisle; then +she had sufficient strength to take a few steps more. She glanced at +her wedding ring, so recently placed upon her finger, and smiled at +this sign of eternal union. Then, on the threshold of the great door, +at the top of the steps which went down into the Place du Cloitre, she +tottered. Had she not really arrived at the summit of her happiness? +Was not it there that the joy of her life, being perfected, was to +end? With a last effort she raised herself as much as possible, that +she might put her lips upon the lips of Felicien. And in that kiss of +love she passed away for ever. + +But her death was without sadness. Monseigneur, with his habitual +movement of pastoral benediction, aided this pure soul to free itself +from the frail body. He had regained his calmness, and had once more +found in the fulfillment of his sacred calling the desired-for peace. + +The Huberts, unconscious of what had taken place, were still kneeling, +grateful for the pardon at last granted them, and feeling as if +re-entering into existence. For them, as well as for their beloved +daughter, the dream was accomplished. All the Cathedral and the whole +town were _en fete_. The organs sounded louder than ever; the bells +pealed joyously; the multitude waited to greet the loving couple on +the threshold of the mystic church under the glorious spring sunlight. + +It was indeed a beautiful death. Angelique, happy and pure, carried +away suddenly at the moment of the realisation of her fondest dream, +taken into the heavenly life from the dark Romanesque chapels with the +flamboyant, Gothic-vaulted ceiling, from among the gilded decorations +and paintings of ancient times, in the full Paradise of Golden +Legends. What more could she have asked for? + +Felicien held in his arms simply a soft and tender form, from which +life had departed; this bridal robe of lace and pearls seemed like the +light wings of a bird, still warm to the touch. For a long time he had +well known that he could claim but a shadow. The exquisite vision that +came from the Invisible had returned to the Invisible. + +It was merely a semblance, which effaced itself; the vanishing of an +illusion. + +Everything is only a dream. + +And so, at the moment of supreme earthly happiness, Angelique had +disappeared in the slight breath of a loving kiss. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dream, by Emile Zola + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DREAM *** + +This file should be named zdrem10.txt or zdrem10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, zdrem11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, zdrem10a.txt + +Produced by Dagny, John Bickers, and Roger Proctor + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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