The Young Lord and Other Tales Part 8

Victorine, in alarm for her sister, and yet very unwilling to appear at ma.s.s, applied to one of the young girls, imploring her whisperingly to watch over Caliste, who she feared was seriously ill. Scarce had she time for this before the procession commenced, the band and banners preceding the Rosiere, who leant on the arm of the Seigneur de Salency, then came the young girls dressed in white, with the blue scarfs tied under their aims, amongst which the now excited Caliste walked with a stateliness that could not but command attention; and lastly came the youths, twelve in number, wearing the Rosiere's livery.

On did the musicians and procession pa.s.s between two rows of spectators, down the village street, followed by Lisette in conscious triumph; once only did she turn her head to see her train of attendants who came behind her, but her eye resting on the almost unnatural beauty of Caliste, who walked next to her, struck with envy at beholding it, all the self-conceit of her own countenance pa.s.sed away; and Dorsain, who had remarked her glance, saw that even in this hour of triumph the Rosiere was not content, for she felt she had a rival--a successful rival in beauty.

As D'Elsac watched the speaking countenances of the two sisters, he could have wept for very grief. Here were two girls whose beauty was pre-eminent, highly gifted by Providence, and possessing in reality all that could make life desirable; but, instead of being happy and content, the love of admiration had rendered the one miserable till her bodily health had suffered, and the other even in her success was envious of that beauty which illness bestowed upon her rival. Then did his thoughts wander to Victorine, and he turned towards the cottage, but she was not in sight, and he could not but recollect how she had refused the offer of the Rosiere's crown because she knew it would drive all love and peace from her mind. Yes, you are right, Victorine, he thought; true, most true, are your words; this distinction is indeed a root of bitterness, and, unless you can point out a method of extraction, much I fear has its influence taken an immovable hold upon the minds of your unhappy sisters.

The procession had now reached the church, and, Lisette being led to the centre of the aisles, she was visible to all around. A Prie Dieu or kneeling stool was then placed for her use, and the service of vespers commenced, being led by Monsieur le Prieur, the same priest who p.r.o.nounced her the Rosiere. The maidens and the youths surrounded her, but she was distinguished from amongst her young companions by being all in white, for she wore no scarf, such being the wonted custom at Salency.

Whilst the service continued D'Elsac anxiously watched the countenance of Caliste, and more than once he was half tempted to step forwards and lead her from the church; every eager gaze, every look cast upon Lisette was a source of jealousy to Caliste. She could not forget that as the elder she ought to have been in her sister's stead; she could not either forget that Victorine too had refused that crown which Lisette would soon obtain, and which she herself so ardently desired, and as the service was chaunted in a tongue she knew but imperfectly, she attended not to the words, her whole thoughts being engrossed in comparing Lisette to Victorine. Like Dorsain she was led to acknowledge the superiority of the one sister's principles over the other. The one had refused to strive with her lest she should make her miserable, the other had striven and made her miserable.

Bitterly did Caliste rue this strife; but, through the blessing of G.o.d upon the words of Victorine, this poor girl for the first time loathed herself, and her own vile nature which made her envious of a sister's prosperity. Caliste was alarmed at this insight she had obtained of her own heart, and she was troubled so much within herself, that she rose suddenly clasping her hands; and, had not those near her restrained her, she would have fled from the church to seek her sister--that sister who had told her with tears of the depravity of the human heart. "Oh, Victorine!" she inwardly exclaimed, "what would I give to be like you; to possess feelings like yours, which are at peace with G.o.d and man; for me, wretch that I am, I am jealous of my own sister; and I tremble before a G.o.d who knows my inmost thoughts."

Impatiently did she wait the concluding service, her countenance changing every instant with the workings of her mind, whilst D'Elsac, as he watched her, became in a short time almost as excited as herself.

But the service was concluded, and again the Seigneur took the hand of the Rosiere to lead her from the church, and this time the priests headed the procession. Whilst moving Caliste seemed more easy, she felt the affair would soon be concluded; but though she could not urge on the party, yet still in hopes of soon being at liberty to converse with her beloved Victorine, she was certainly more composed. They had now reached the chapel of St. Medard where the Rosiere was to be crowned, and gradually did the procession enter the ready open doors. The Seigneur led Lisette to the high altar, where Monsieur le Prieur was ready to receive her. Here she was bid to kneel before the priest, and, for the first time that day did the cheek of Lisette turn paler than heretofore.

She bent her beautiful head upon her bosom, whilst her suppliant att.i.tude and her extreme youth made D'Elsac for awhile forget her selfish conduct, and to feel with Margoton there was cause to triumph in being so nearly connected to that fair young creature. All the villagers stood round; the Rosiere's crown, being then taken from the high altar, was presented to Monsieur le Prieur by a priest.

The crown was formed of the loveliest roses that could be procured in Salency; the flowers were wove together by a blue ribbon, the two ends of which hung down gracefully, being bound together by a ring of silver.

This custom was inst.i.tuted by Louis XIII. who, whilst staying at Varennes in the neighbourhood of Salency, sent his captain of the guard to the village to present the Rosiere with some blue ribbons, and a silver ring to wear at her coronation.

Kneeling did Lisette wait to be crowned, whilst Monsieur le Prieur standing over her held the crown in his hand above her head, first blessing it, and then commencing a discourse on wisdom and virtue, which lasted perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, during which the object of the fete was never allowed an instant to be forgotten. He ceased, and was just preparing to place the crown upon the head of Lisette; the first note of the organ began to be heard, commencing the solemn Te Deum, when a piercing shriek was heard through the chapel, the music ceased, the roses dropt from the hand of the priest, and all looked earnestly for the cause of the interruption.

The shriek had come from the lips of Caliste, and, it was evident, that now she could no longer restrain emotions which had distracted her heart for days and days. She approached her sister, her eyes frightfully extended, her whole countenance glowing with excitement, and, laying her hand on the crown, she exclaimed, "It is Victorine's! it is Victorine's!

Victorine is Rosiere! Victorine alone deserves to wear this crown." She would have said more, her gestures and her features betraying the utmost excitement, when suddenly her countenance changed, her eyes became fixed, and, again uttering a piercing shriek, she fell backwards into the extended arms of her uncle.

What a scene of confusion ensued, the ceremony still unfinished, whilst the parents of Caliste rushed forwards to the unhappy girl, forgetting in their alarm all thought of the Rosiere. The next instant Caliste was borne from the chapel, whilst the villagers, most of them followed, many eager to know the result, and many from real anxiety to a.s.sist the sorrowing parents. Thus, in a moment, was the chapel almost deserted save by the astonished and overpowered Dorsain, the neglected Rosiere, the Seigneur, and the officiating priests.

"I thought it would come to this!" exclaimed the uncle after a painful silence; "I thought it would. Caliste has not been herself for the last week: poor girl, poor Caliste! the disappointment I am afraid will make her seriously ill."

"Oh, it is but the heat of the day I trust uncle," replied the offended and angry Rosiere, rising from her knees before the altar, and arranging her crown which had been but awkwardly placed on her head. "I can a.s.sure you I felt it very much myself just now. I have no doubt Caliste will be well enough to dance at the fete this evening."

The kind-hearted man shook his head mournfully as he said, "My dear niece, I am afraid you are deceiving yourself. I am afraid your poor sister is seriously indisposed."

"Let us hope for the best," interposed the Seigneur de Salency kindly.

"Ay, uncle, let us hope for the best as Monsieur le Seigneur says,"

exclaimed Lisette. "I can't believe myself it is anything more than the heat, judging by my own feelings."

At that moment Mimi ran into the chapel, her eyes red with weeping.

"Uncle Dorsain," she said, "my mother has sent me to you to beg you to stay with Lisette till she can come to be with her. Caliste is very ill I fear," added the affectionate child, "very, very ill. She does not know any one but Victorine; she has called so often for Victorine, and she will not loose her hand, but keeps her close to her side. Poor, poor Caliste!" she continued with pa.s.sion, "I hope that you are now content Lisette, you have killed Caliste by your triumphing over her as you have done."

Lisette was not in a humour to bear this affront, and she was about to make a very angry retort on the child, when she perceived that the villagers were once again entering the chapel to see the conclusion of the ceremony, so turning to her uncle, she whispered, "You see they do not want you at home, uncle Dorsain, so you may as well stay with me."

D'Elsac whispered to Mimi to run and tell her mother that he would remain with Lisette; and the chapel being once again filled, Monsieur le Prieur, laying his spread hands upon the Rosiere's crown, repeated a blessing, and the organ again commenced a Te Deum.

The procession then left the chapel of St. Medard, and in a spot chosen for the purpose was the Rosiere presented with a bouquet of flowers, an arrow, and two b.a.l.l.s, such being the custom for many generations, and still carried on, though the reason for presenting these particular offerings is completely forgotten in Salency.

It was now the hour of the fete, and though usually the Rosiere returns to her home, yet Lisette would not do so, fearful lest she should be detained there; so taking the unwilling arm of D'Elsac she accompanied the villagers to the chateau where the fete was to be given. It was during this walk that Lisette gave full vent to the bitter pa.s.sions then raging in her bosom. She abused Caliste, calling her selfish and jealous; she blamed her parents for indulging her by remaining at home; she called Victorine a hypocrite and unsisterly, and, as to little Mimi, her displeasure against her knew no bounds. "Never was any Rosiere so neglected by her own family as I have been," she said; "and even now at my own fete, they choose to remain absent."

She shed tears of pa.s.sion as she thus poured forth her selfish sorrow, whilst her uncle made no reply, in silence listening to her words.

On arriving at the chateau the Rosiere was received with shouts of applause; and, before one dance was concluded, Lisette to all appearance had forgotten that she had a sister existing. Not so Dorsain; he sate apart from the villagers, watching the thoughtless and unfeeling girl, his affectionate heart picturing to himself the sorrow of his sister's family. Surely the time _must_ come, he thought, when the eyes of Lisette will be opened. Surely she cannot long remain in such total ignorance of her own bad conduct. And this is the Rosiere, the chosen maiden of the village! Oh, Salenciens, how ignorant must you be! how dark must be your state when, judging only by outward seemings, you crowned this girl for virtue! D'Elsac shed tears when he thought of this, and when he remembered that Caliste was the one chosen next to her sister, he wept still more bitterly for the state of the human race in general. Alas! he inquired, where does virtue dwell? It has been imagined to leave the crowded cities, and to reside in lowly cottages; but here, as it were, are the hearts of two peasant girls laid open for our inspection, and, oh! how black and sinful do they appear. D'Elsac sorrowed as one without hope, for his religion taught him that without merit no man can see the Lord; and still grieving he felt the hand of some person upon his shoulder, and looking round he perceived it was Margoton.

"Brother," she said, "our dear child is, I trust, better. I have left Victorine to attend her, indeed she will not let Victorine go out of her sight; but Valmont thought we had better make our appearance, if only for an hour, at Lisette's fete. The Seigneur has shown much kindness and condescension to Lisette, and it would not do for us to appear inattentive for so much goodness, though I must own I shall not be easy till I return to my poor child."

"Then if you must stay here," said Dorsain, "if you must do so much violence to your feelings, I think you had better go nearer to those who are dancing."

"Yes, I know I ought," she answered, "but I am ashamed for my children's sake. Too, too many suspect the cause of my poor Caliste's illness. Oh, Dorsain, how proud I was of my two daughters! how neglectful of Victorine! and now my beautiful girls make me blush for them, and my modest Victorine by her own un.o.btrusiveness has attracted, it is true, but little admiration, yet nothing but respect and love can be attached to her name."

"But Lisette," inquired Dorsain, with an air of astonishment, for though he had heard words from her lips during their walk to the chateau that made him ashamed for her, yet he believed they were known only to himself. "What of Lisette, sister?"

"Look at her now!" exclaimed her mother. "Look at her, Dorsain. Would you think by her countenance that at this moment the sister, who was her chief companion in infancy, was lying on a sick bed, to which she has been the innocent means of bringing her?"

Dorsain sighed deeply when his eye rested on Lisette, then dancing under the trees, and laughing and conversing with her partner with all the selfish frivolity of her nature; but just at that moment her father approached her and whispered something in her ear, and even at that distance her uncle could see by the light of the lamps near which she stood, the expression of her countenance change to angry discontent. Her mirth ceased however, evincing itself so openly, and on the first opportunity she withdrew with her partner from the observation of her father.

The mother repeated D'Elsac's sigh, and then left him, to show herself to the dancers. Scarcely had she gone, before her brother, now at liberty to leave, set off to the cottage to inquire after Caliste. The village street was deserted, as it had been on the day D'Elsac first arrived there; and, unnoticed by one individual, he reached his sister's cottage.

The door was half opened to let in the air, for it was a warm evening; and, by the light of a lamp, he could perceive that Caliste was extended upon the bed, which I have before mentioned as one of the chief articles of furniture in the kitchen. Close beside her couch sat Victorine, still wearing the white dress put on for the fete; and at her feet was Mimi, whose head rested on her lap, and who was evidently in the sweet sleep of childhood.

For a moment, or more, all was silent; and D'Elsac had leisure to remark the softly serene countenance of Victorine, whose sweetly expressive face was sometimes turned towards Mimi and then towards Caliste. It was evident that Caliste slept not; for D'Elsac heard her moan, and he could remark that, when the sound reached him, Victorine looked grieved, though she spoke not, fearing to rouse the invalid. Suddenly, however, Caliste addressed her, and though her uncle could not hear her words, yet her manner was energetic, and like one still suffering from excitement.

Victorine tried to sooth her, bending over her, and arranging her pillows; during which movement Mimi awoke, and inquired of Caliste "if she felt herself better."

"Yes, my little Mimi, I am better," she said, "that is, my head does not pain me as it did; yet, for all that, I am perhaps more miserable than ever. Oh! what shall I do, Victorine, what will become of me? At this moment I would gladly change place with the lowliest and most abject of G.o.d's creatures."

"Dear Caliste," replied the astonished child, "how can you say so; you, who are so beautiful, why even Lisette, the Rosiere, was jealous of your beauty more than once this very day."

"Ah, it is that!" exclaimed Caliste, sitting up in her bed, and clasping her hands together, "it is that very jealousy, Mimi, which I fear will ruin my soul and my body. Oh, Mimi, guard against jealousy, strive against envy as you would against a desire to murder your own mother."

The child seemed frightened by her sister's agitation, and clung closer to Victorine; whilst Caliste continued--"Oh, if you knew the bitter pa.s.sions raging in my breast this day, if you knew how first I despised, then hated, Lisette; how I should have rejoiced had her beauty been torn from her, and how I should have triumphed in her agony! Oh, wretched, wretched girl that I am, and she too, she spurred me on, she gloried in my misery, she gloried in my downfall; and, for revenge, I would have been glad to have seen her dead at my feet. Do not come near me, Victorine," she added, "do not pity me, I do not deserve compa.s.sion. I hate and loath myself; would I could show to Lisette my repentance, but what will that avail me?--The sin is unwashed from my heart, my conscience drives me to distraction, and there is no peace left for the miserable, undone, Caliste."

"But n.o.body need know your thoughts, but Victorine and myself," urged Mimi; "and we will not tell of you, sister."

"But G.o.d knows them," she replied in a hollow voice, that made D'Elsac start back from the door. "He knows them and I know them, and surely I shall be punished for them severely."

She ceased; and, hiding her face with her hands, she gave way to violent emotion. Victorine allowed the first burst to pa.s.s away; and then, putting her arm round her, she gently soothed her by kind words, entreating her to listen to her. "Dearest Caliste," she said, "when I told you the Rosiere's crown would bring sorrow to our home, you did not believe me. Now that you have painfully learnt this lesson, my sister, surely now you will believe me, when I say I can point out to you a path to peace. Vile as our hearts are by nature, dear Caliste, yet did our Lord G.o.d _bless_ the sons of Noah, even though he had just declared that the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth. You have done wrong, Caliste, you have sinned grievously; you have been in darkness and in error, and you now feel shame and remorse. My sister, that shame is not of the natural man, it is a gift from G.o.d, and He has said, 'When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I, the Lord, will hear them; I, the G.o.d of Israel, will not forsake them. And the work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and a.s.surance for ever. And my people shall dwell in a peaceful habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.'"

"Ah, Victorine," she replied, "wherefore is it that you alone can sooth me? wherefore is it, that in listening to you, I hope some day to be at rest?"

"Because," answered Victorine, "the faith in which I have been reared is one of love, of joy, of peace, of hope. I have been told that the G.o.d who has made me, being infinite, must also be perfect in holiness and power. He has promised perfect peace to those whose minds are staid on him. On his word do I rely with full confidence, as the child does upon a parent's. And as I have learnt, so would I teach you, dear Caliste, that our G.o.d is love, and those that turn to Him he will in no wise cast off."

"Would that I could think as you do!" exclaimed the poor girl; "would that I were a heretic like you, Victorine, and that I might but be permitted to read in that book you have studied from childhood!"

D'Elsac was now aware that the fete had broken up, and the villagers were returning to their homes; and, unwilling to be found where he was, he left the spot; and, taking a turn, he presently came back to the cottage.

He found all the family a.s.sembled in the kitchen, when he returned; and he came in just in time to hear Valmont rebuke Lisette severely for her conduct during the day.

She replied with pa.s.sion and insolence to his displeasure; and the father irritated, again reproved her, commanding her to be silent, and to go up to her chamber. She obeyed him so far as to leave the apartment, taking no heed of Caliste, but muttering out her discontent at the behaviour of her relatives towards her, and she even proceeded to some kind of threat which, for the time, was unnoticed.

Valmont next spoke with some bitterness to Caliste, and then left the apartment in displeasure.

With some difficulty, D'Elsac supported, or rather carried, Caliste to the chamber above; for her father's words had so grieved her that she was immediately taken worse; and then, leaving her to her mother and Victorine, he left the cottage, unable to sleep, thinking that a walk in the quiet moonlight would do him good.