The Young Lord and Other Tales Part 4

He could not doubt for an instant but that these two fair girls before him were his nieces, and the younger, a mere playful child, was no doubt the little Mime or Mimi, as she was endearingly called, for the rare talent she evinced in mimicking or laughing at the eccentricities of her neighbours.

Mimi was a very lovely little girl in outward appearance, her hair and eyes being of a most brilliant black, and she wore the dress of the peasants of Normandy, a province which borders close on Picardy. D'Elsac could not so easily distinguish her companion, though she was evidently an elder sister, and she, too, wore the Norman costume. This dress consisted of a full red striped petticoat, a jacket with short sleeves, and an ap.r.o.n with pockets.

He saw, however, that she was not behind her younger sister in beauty, and though speaking with earnestness to the child, when Dorsain first beheld her, her manner was gentle, and her countenance calm and serene.

"My dearest Mimi," she said, "I want you to understand thoroughly, why I refused to listen to Monsieur le Prieur, when he came to talk to me. He wanted me to try with my own sisters Caliste and Lisette for the rose, and supposing I had agreed to do so, what would have been the consequences, my dear Mimi? I love them dearly now, and I believe they love me; but were I to gain the rose from them, they would be vexed, and if I lost it after trying for it, I should be disappointed, and very likely I should be cross and jealous."

"You are never cross, Victorine," replied the child, "so that you certainly have a better right than Caliste or Lisette to the rose, and then, too, we shall have fine work here, if they are rivals for the rose, and either of them has a chance of getting it."

"Alas! I fear," exclaimed Victorine, sorrowfully, "alas! I fear so, Mimi, I could almost find it in my heart to hope that neither will be chosen."

"But you forget," replied Mimi, "how we manage these things in Salency, you have only been at one of our yearly fetes, whilst I have been to ten, and five of those I can remember very well. Three girls are always chosen, Victorine, by the villagers, not one only, and then the Seigneur takes one from those three--that is the way, you know, and Monsieur Le Prieur wanted you, and Caliste, and Lisette, to be the three chosen. He said it would make the thing so interesting, if three out of one family were striving for the rose."

"Can it be possible," said Victorine, all astonishment, "that anybody can be so ignorant of human nature, as to set three sisters to strive against each other, to rouse up envy and jealousy in their minds, to make them grieve to hear that their own sister is looked upon favourably by their neighbours and friends, because by that favourable notice they will he rejected? Young as you are, Mimi, you can see that this fete of the rose must be very wrong, by raising one girl above another, and causing envy, hatred, and malice amongst the rivals for the rose."

"It is very wrong," exclaimed the child, after a moment's thought. "Yes, Victorine, it is very wrong, I am sure, and a fine scene we shall have of it here, which ever way it turns up. But I am for Caliste against Lisette--I am for Caliste, and if Lisette gains it, I for one will not let her set herself over us. I am for Caliste--I am for Caliste."

So shouting, the child darted from the cottage, paying no heed to Victorine's entreaties to allow the matter to take its course, for enough strife was likely to ensue, and nearly knocking down D'Elsac in her eagerness, she ran down the village street, and the next minute was out of sight. For a moment, or more, her uncle remained still at the door reflecting upon what had pa.s.sed between the sisters; then, anxious to know what the worthy Salenciens were about, he stepped into the cottage to learn particulars from his niece.

Victorine was seated beside a table, on which lay her needlework, yet untouched; she had covered her face with her hands, and it was evident by her manner she was feeling deeply. The step of D'Elsac roused her, and, looking up, the tear was visible in her eye, she brushed it away hastily, as she rose to receive her visitor, and offering him a chair, she begged him to rest till her parents returned.

"You cannot know me, Victorine," he said, embracing her, "but I am your uncle, D'Elsac, and I am come to Salency to see my sister and her family.

It is many years, my child, since we met, but tell me where are my sister and her husband? Where are Caliste and Lisette? or whither has little Mimi run in such haste?"

"Is it possible," enquired Victorine, "that you do not know the fete of St. Medard is approaching, uncle Dorsain? It is well you asked _me_ the cause why our village is deserted to all appearance to-day, had you asked any other Salencien, I really do not know what they would have thought of you."

Victorine spoke playfully, and D'Elsac feared not to acknowledge his ignorance. "Remember," he said, "that I have only once before been at Salency, and that was but for a day. Tell me then, dear niece, what it is I ought to know before my sister returns."

Victorine smiled, as she answered, "Well, uncle, I will repeat to you, as nearly as I can, the words of Monsieur Le Prieur when speaking on this subject:--'Twelve centuries ago, the proprietor of Salency was named Medard, whose good conduct was so renowned, that on his death he was beatified. St. Medard was a native of Salency, and being a great admirer of all that was good in others as well as in himself, he appointed a day of festival, the 8th of June, being his own birthday, on which that young girl, who was most remarkable for good conduct, modesty, and wisdom in Salency, should receive from the judge of the district a rose or crown of roses publicly presented to her in the chapel of St. Medard, and for the following twelvemonth she was to be honoured by the t.i.tle of the Rosiere of Salency.' In little more than a week is our fete of the rose, and to- day is the day in which the Salenciens meet before the officers of justice to converse on the subject, and to choose three young girls from whom the Seigneur de Salency must select the Rosiere. All the parents and friends, and even the young girls themselves, are gone to hear this discussion; and, unless it may be the sick or infirm, all our cottages are deserted for the chamber of meeting."

"And you, Victorine," enquired Dorsain, "wherefore are you not there?"

She blushed, as she answered timidly, "Dear uncle, I am a heretic, or what we term a protestant. I think such scenes encourage anything but peace or family love."

"A heretic, a Protestant!" repeated D'Elsac. "How is that, Victorine?"

She blushed still more deeply, saying, in very low tones, "My aunt Pauline, you know, married a native of Geneva, and went with him to dwell in Geneva. My uncle Basil was a protestant, and my aunt became one also.

They had no family, uncle Dorsain, and my mother being very ill after my birth, my aunt Pauline, who happened to be here, took me to her home, and till I was fifteen, I never even saw my parents. My aunt is dead now,"

she added, the tears filling her eyes, "and my dear uncle Basil too, so I have come back to live with my parents, and I am allowed to continue in the faith in which I was reared, at least, till I am one and twenty, and then Monsieur Le Prieur threatens to banish me from Salency, and my family, unless I renounce the Protestant faith. I am now seventeen," she added, "Caliste is two years older, Lisette is nearly a year younger, and little Mimi is not eleven. I am allowed free intercourse with my family; and though my bible is taken from me, yet I ought, and am very thankful, for the indulgence shown to me."

"But why do you disapprove this fete, Victorine?" asked D'Elsac. "Does it not encourage virtue?"

"Dearest uncle," she replied, "what is virtue? Are not we full of sin and corrupt before G.o.d, and will not such a strife as this encourage envy, hatred, and malice amongst us? Are we not driving peace from our b.r.e.a.s.t.s and our firesides, uncle Dorsain, and can we expect to be holier or better when she is banished from us? With peace goes love, and is not 'love thy neighbour as thyself,' the blessed Commandment given us by our Lord?"

D'Elsac, however, did not agree on this point, and he told her so, while, secretly, he congratulated himself on not having been too hasty in his choice. "I might have taken this heretic home," he thought, "and so near Geneva as we are, she would have all the encouragement one heretic ever gives another. Let me be cautious, therefore, I will watch Caliste and Lisette carefully, before I select one as a daughter."

Just when the good man had arrived at this conclusion, a sound of many voices reached them, and the next minute Margoton Durocher, with her daughters and neighbours, stopped at her door. There was an increase of noise and bustle on the appearance of D'Elsac, and for some minutes everybody spoke and n.o.body listened.

Dorsain was much struck with the change years had effected in his sister.

She was as lovely as any of her own daughters when they last met: now she was become very stout, and her features were very coa.r.s.e; but still her dark eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her cheeks were glowing with unusual bloom.

She saluted her brother on each side the face, inquired kindly after his wife, and then without waiting for further particulars of the reason of his visit, she called aloud for Caliste and Lisette to present them to their uncle.

If Dorsain had been pleased with the quiet Victorine, he was enchanted with the growing and still budding beauty of Lisette, who was certainly, in outward appearance, the loveliest of the family; then Caliste, too, with her long dark eyelashes, and her look of proud pensiveness, was very charming. In short, the worthy man looked first on one fair girl and then on another in high delight, and concluded by heartily embracing the little Mimi playfully, scolding her for pushing by him so hastily, and then, in the same breath, declaring that never before had any uncle four such very charming nieces.

It was curious to see how differently the sisters took this compliment--the proud Caliste's lip slightly curled in scorn at it, as a mere kind commonplace; Lisette blushed, and took the praise as all her own; Victorine smiled good-humouredly, and little Mimi archly took up her uncle's words, and inquired "if he had come to Salency, to see which of her sisters would look best as the Rosiere."

Dorsain, to his astonishment, was suddenly and loudly congratulated on his probably near connection to the future Rosiere, and all with one voice declared, "he would never be forgiven if he did not stay to the fete of St. Medard."

Now Dorsain had already determined he would stay with his sister for some days, but being, as I have before remarked, a thoughtful and slow personage, he was so long in answering, that he found the good and excited Salenciens had imagined his silence was a refusal, and all together they mutually joined to persuade him to stay.

"Now, brother," said Margoton, "this is one of the proudest days of my life, and I shall take it very hard to be thwarted in anything on this day. Caliste, Lisette, my fair rival Rosieres, speak, urge your uncle to stay to see our family triumphant."

"Monsieur D'Elsac, you must remain for the fete," exclaimed one of the neighbours, "we could not let you leave us on any account; well may Margoton call this the proudest day of her life, for no native of Salency has been so fortunate, so favoured, as she is now, from the day the sister of St. Medard was proclaimed Rosiere even to the present year."

Lisette then addressed Dorsain, taking his hand, and looking up into his face, "Uncle," she said, "we wish you to remain, surely you will not vex us by a refusal to-day?"

The speaking eyes of Caliste and Victorine seemed to request his presence, and the little Mimi, hanging upon him playfully, held her finger on his lips, that he should not thwart their wishes. What could Dorsain do? He did not intend to go, but it happily struck him, that he might answer them, as if their over persuasion had prevailed against his past arrangements, and that, without their suspecting his intention, he would have plenty of time given him to study the characters of the three sisters. Moving the hand of Mimi, he inquired, "what had been the result of the meeting that morning."

"Is it possible, it cannot have reached you?" exclaimed the mother, proudly. "Why, Dorsain, never such a thing has been known at Salency in the memory of man. My own two girls, Caliste and Lisette, have been chosen, with Felicie Durand, and the Seigneur will make his election as it pleases him. Two out of one family, Dorsain, only think, two sisters from one family; ought I not to be proud of my girls? But, alas!" and she sighed, casting a look of displeasure on Victorine, "alas! we have all our troubles. Why should the elder and younger daughter be chosen, and the second past over as a shame, rather than an honour, to an honest family?"

Poor Victorine coloured highly, and turned her head away from the group.

Mimi sprang forwards, and seized her hand, exclaiming, "If the best girl in the village was to be Rosiere, where should we find another equal to you, Victorine? Now own it, mother," continued the indulged child, "own that Victorine is the most obedient and complaisant of us four."

Madame Durocher patted Mimi on the head, and held out her other hand to Victorine, as she kindly said, "Well, my dear girl, I cannot help being somewhat vexed; you are a good girl, Victorine, a very good girl; and it is quite excusable in a mother to regret that her child does not share in the triumphs of virtue. I have no fault to find with you, Victorine, none whatever, and as Mimi says you would have as good a chance as any to be Rosiere; what a sad pity it is then, that you have such foolish opinions on some few points!"

"Dearest mother," replied Victorine, respectfully kissing her hand, "I am content, if you are satisfied, not to try for the rose."

"Well, well," exclaimed Margoton, "I am proud of my girls, and I think Felicie Durand has but little chance against them."

"You are right there, neighbour Durocher," replied the same person who had spoken before. "You have, indeed, reason to be proud. How lovely will your charming Lisette, or Caliste either, look at the feet of Monsieur le Prieur, in the chapel, with the crown of roses on her brow!"

Again Lisette blushed as she smiled her thanks, whilst the beautiful eyed Caliste, displeased at the evident preference given by their neighbour to her sister's beauty, turned abruptly towards her mother, and inquired, "if they had not better arrange something for the comfort of Monsieur D'Elsac. My uncle's horse is still at the door," she said, "and he has himself not been asked to take food in our cottage. Victorine has, indeed, mentioned it to you, mother; but her words, no doubt, fell unheeded." The manner, perhaps, more than the words of Caliste, was an intimation to the neighbours to depart, and as they left the cottage, the woman to whom she more particularly addressed her looks, vented her displeasure in words.

"How intolerably proud that girl is!" she said; "and, after all, her sister Lisette is by far handsomer. I think Victorine, too, is very pretty; and as to Mimi, there is no doubt she will soon be her superior in beauty."

"I like Caliste much better than Lisette," replied the person to whom she addressed herself, "for though she is so proud, yet the other is very selfish. Caliste may speak rudely, but she will do you a kindness; as to Lisette, she is wrapped up in selfishness and conceit."

Such were the comments made upon two of the chosen maidens of Salency; and whoever will remember that the heart is full of evil, will no longer wonder at the faults of these young girls. Both Caliste and Lisette kept up an outward semblance of virtue, the one from pride, the other from the desire of being flattered and admired; but as the motives which guided their actions were not all powerful, the moment they were really tried they failed in influencing their conduct.

When left alone, Margoton and Dorsain had much to say on family matters, and the mother expatiated largely upon the late election. "Brother," she said, "Caliste and Lisette have by this shown you how well the villagers regard them. Mimi, too, is an universal favourite; but my poor Victorine,--is a heretic, brother, a decided heretic. Never shall I forget the day that our sister Pauline took the babe to her home; but I thought I was dying then, and my husband thought so too, and what could Valmont do with a young babe? Pauline was not a heretic then--she became one about a year afterwards; but somehow or other we forgot to send for Victorine, or we never had a good opportunity of fetching home the child.

Thus things went on, and never shall I forget our astonishment on our first seeing our daughter, when the deaths of Pauline and her husband caused her suddenly to be restored to us.

"Victorine was then fifteen, and mistress of twenty louis in gold; but on account of her heresy, Monsieur le Prieur took it from her for the benefit of the church, and to expend in ma.s.ses for Pauline and Basil's souls, but he allows us to keep Victorine with us, at least till she is one and twenty, for he hopes a constant communion with Catholics will, in the end, work her conversion. When she is one and twenty, she must either renounce her heresy publicly in the chapel of St. Medard, or else be banished from Salency."

Margoton then went on to speak of her other daughters, and, encouraged to talk by Dorsain, she acknowledged that the proud spirit of Caliste made her often tremble before it, whilst the excessive self-conceit of Lisette prevented any reproof being of use to her. Mimi she mentioned with less pain; her faults being still those of a child, had not yet brought with them a sting to her mother's heart.