Pride Part 71

"Thank Heaven, my darling mamma; the inspiration to which I yielded was a wise one!

"What a cruel lesson I received at first, then how much valuable information, and lastly what delightful compensation!

"Two persons with true, honest hearts manifested a genuine interest in me.

"A genuine, unselfish interest this time, for these persons, at least, have not even a suspicion that I am the richest heiress in France.

"On the contrary, they believe me to be poor, almost on the verge of absolute want, in fact; and then, what is more, they have been perfectly honest with me. I know it, I am certain of it!

"Judge of my happiness! I have met some one at last whom I feel I can trust, I, who have come to distrust everybody and everything, thanks to the fulsome flattery of those around me.

"At last I know what I am really worth--how I really appear in the eyes of others.

"I am far from pretty; there is nothing in the world about me worthy of the slightest notice. I am one of those persons who must pa.s.s through life unnoticed unless some compa.s.sionate heart should be touched by my naturally gentle and rather melancholy ways.

"The feeling I must really inspire, if I inspire any feeling at all, is that sort of affectionate commiseration that truly n.o.ble souls feel when they are brought into close contact with an inoffensive creature who is suffering from some hidden sorrow.

"If this commiseration ever attracts one of these n.o.ble natures to me, what it will find and love in me is sweetness of disposition combined with an intense longing for mutual sincerity.

"This, then, is precisely what I am,--nothing less, nothing more!

"And when I compare these slight attractions, the only ones I possess, with the marvellous charms and perfections with which my flatterers have endowed me; when I think of the sudden and irresistible pa.s.sions I have inspired in persons who have scarcely exchanged a word with me; when I think of the sensation I create in fashionable circles, and then think of the modest entertainment this evening, where I was invited to dance only from a feeling of pity, and where I saw all the other young girls chosen in preference to me, because I was the least attractive one present,--oh, mother, I, who never hated any one in my whole life before, now feel that I hate as deeply as I despise these persons who have so shamefully deceived me by their base flattery.

"I am astonished at all the bitter, insolent, and opprobrious epithets which occur to me, and with which I long to crush my deceivers some day, or, rather, when a test to which I mean to subject them at that grand ball next Thursday has wholly convinced me of their deceitfulness and treachery.

"Alas! my dear mother, suppose any one had told me a short time ago that I, who am naturally so timid, should make such a bold resolve some day!

"But the necessity of escaping the greatest of misfortunes imparts courage and determination even to the most timid.

"But, as I have said before, my dear mother, the cruel lesson I received was not without its compensations.

"In the first place, I have gained, I am sure, a generous and sincere friend. Seeing me slighted and neglected, a charming young girl took pity on me. She came to me, and endeavoured to console me with wonderful cleverness and kindness.

"I felt, or, rather, I feel, for her the tenderest grat.i.tude.

"Oh, if you only knew, mother, how novel and pleasant and delightful it was for me, the richest heiress in France, to find some one who, upon seeing me neglected, and, as she supposed, unhappy, on that very account manifests the most touching interest in me,--who, in short, loves me for myself alone.

"To be sought out and to be loved on account of your supposed misfortunes, what ineffable happiness this is to a person who, up to that time, has been loved, apparently, only on account of the wealth she is known to possess.

"The sincere affection I have gained this time is unspeakably precious to me, because it gives me the hope of such a happy future. With a tried and trusted friend, what have I to fear? Ah, I have no fear of seeing this friend change some day when I tell her who I really am!

"What I have said in regard to Herminie, for that is her name, also applies to M. Olivier, who might be taken for this young girl's brother, so great is his kindness of heart and his honesty. Seeing that no one had asked me to dance, it was he who invited me out of pity, and so great is his frankness that he did not deny that he was actuated by motives of compa.s.sion. Moreover, when I had the hardihood to ask him if he thought me pretty, he replied that he did not, but that I had a face which was interesting by reason of its gentle, rather sad expression.

"These honest words gave me inexpressible pleasure and satisfaction. I felt that they were true, for they reminded me of what you said to me once, my beloved mother, when you were speaking of my looks; besides, the words were addressed, not to the wealthy heiress, but to the little embroideress.

"M. Olivier is only a common soldier, I know; but he must have received an excellent education, for he expresses himself admirably and his manners are perfect. Besides, he is as kind-hearted and good as he is brave, for he evinces a truly filial devotion for his aged uncle, a retired naval officer.

"Oh, mother, what n.o.ble and courageous natures these are! How entirely at ease one feels with them! How their frankness and sincerity rejoices one's heart! How healthy and wholesome to the soul such a.s.sociation is!

What serenity and cheerful resignation they display under adverse circ.u.mstances, for both these young people are obliged to work hard,--Herminie, for a mere subsistence; M. Olivier, to increase his old uncle's inadequate means.

"To work for a living!

"And yet Herminie told me if work should fail me at any time she would do her best to secure me employment from a large establishment for which she had occasionally worked herself, for I had no idea yet what a dreadful thing it was to be out of work.

"To be out of work!

"Great Heavens, that means to lack food! That means want, misery, death itself, perhaps!

"All the merry, laughing girls I saw at this little entertainment, girls who are, like Herminie, dependent entirely upon their own exertions for a livelihood, may know all the horrors of abject want to-morrow, if work should fail them!

"Is there no one to whom they can go and say, 'I am brave and willing, only give me work?'

"But such a state of things is unjust! It is shameful! Is there no such thing as pity for the woes of others in the world? Is it a matter of little or no consequence that there should be so many people in the world who do not know whether they will have food on the morrow?

"Oh, mother, mother, now I understand the vague fear and uneasiness I experienced when they told me I was so rich! I had good reason to say to myself, with something akin to remorse:

"Such vast wealth for myself alone? And why?

"Why should I have so much and others nothing?

"How did I acquire this immense fortune?

"Alas! I acquired it only by your death, my mother, and by your death, my father.

"So I had to lose those I held most dear in the world in, order to become so rich.

"In order that I may be so rich, it is necessary, perhaps, that thousands of young girls like Herminie should be always in danger of want,--happy to-day, filled with despair to-morrow.

"And when they have lost their only treasures, the lightheartedness and gaiety of youth, when they are old, and when not only work, but strength is lacking, what becomes of these unfortunates?

"Oh, mother, the more I think of the terrible difference between my lot and that of Herminie and so many other young girls--the more I think of the dangers that surround me, of all the nefarious schemes of which I am the object because I am rich, it seems to me that wealth imparts a strange bitterness to the heart.

"Now my reason has at last a.s.serted itself, I must satisfy myself of the omnipotent power of wealth over venal souls; I must see to what depths of degradation I, a girl of sixteen, can make those around me stoop.

Yes, for my eyes are open now. I realise with profound grat.i.tude that M.

de Maillefort's revelations alone started this train of thought that is making everything more and more clear to me every minute.

"I do not know, but it seems to me, my dear mother, that I can express my thoughts more clearly now, that my mind is developing, that my faculties are awakening from a sort of stupor, that my character is undergoing a decided change in many respects, and that, while it remains keenly susceptible to all that is sincere and generous, it is becoming strongly antagonistic and aggressive to all that is false, base and mercenary.

"I am convinced of one thing: they lied to me when they told me that M.

de Maillefort was your enemy. They told me so merely because they wanted to make me distrust his counsels. It was designedly that they fostered my dislike of him, a dislike caused by the slanders of which I have been the dupe.

"No, never shall I forget that it was to M. de Maillefort's revelations that I was indebted for the idea of going to Madame Herbaut's, where I not only learned the truth concerning myself, but where I met the only two really generous and sincere persons that I have known since I lost you, my father, and you, my mother."

The morning after Madame Herbaut's ball Mlle. de Beaumesnil rang for her governess a little earlier than usual.

Madame Laine appeared almost instantly, however.