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Page 37
"In good faith, my poor child," she said, "you have not had, up too this
time, your just share of happiness in this world. I would not speak ill of
your husband, since he is dead; but, _entre nous_, he was a horrid brute.
Mon Dieu! charming at times, I grant you,--since I have been caught
myself--like all worthless scamps! but in fact, beastly, beastly! Well,
certainly, I shall not undertake to say that marriage is ever a state of
perfect bliss; nevertheless it is the best thing that has been imagined up
to this time, to enjoy life decently among respectable people. You are in
the flower of your age--you are quite good-looking, quite--and, by the
way, it will do you no harm to wear your skirts a little higher up behind,
with a proper sort of bustle; for you don't even know what they wear now,
my poor pet. Here, look! It's horrible, I know; but what can we do? we
must not attract attention. In short, what I meant to tell you is that you
still have all that is necessary, and even more than is necessary, to fix
a husband--if indeed there are any that can be fixed, which I hope is the
case--otherwise, we should have to despair wholly of Providence, if it did
not have some compensation in store for us after all our trials. It is
already a manifest sign of its kindness that you should have recovered
your _embonpoint_, my darling! Kiss your mother. Come, now, when is our
pretty little woman going to be married?"
There was no maternal exaggeration whatever in the compliments which the
baroness was addressing to Clotilde. All Paris looked upon her with the
same eyes as her mother. She had never been so attractive as now, and she
had always been infinitely so. Her person, reposed in the peace of her
mourning, had then the bright lustre of a fine fruit, ripe and fresh. Her
black eyes full of timid tenderness, her pure brow crowned with splendid
and life-like braids, her shoulders of rosy marble, her particular grace
of a young matron, at once handsome, loving, and chaste--all that, joined
to a spotless reputation and to sixty thousand francs a year, could not
fail to bring forward more than one pretender. And indeed they sprang up
in legions. Reason, and public opinion itself, which had done full justice
to her husband and to herself, were both urging her to a second wedding.
Her own private feelings, whatever might be their natural delicacy, did
not seem likely to prove an obstacle, for there was nothing in her heart
that was not true. She had been faithful to her husband, she had shed
sincere and bitter tears over that wretched companion of her youth; but he
had exhausted and worn out her affection, and without ever joining her
mother in her posthumous recriminations against Monsieur de Trecoeur, she
felt that she had no further duty to fulfill toward him but that of
prayer.
She had, however, been for many months a widow, and she still continued to
oppose to the solicitations of the baroness, a resistance of which the
latter sought in vain to ascertain the mysterious cause. One day she
fancied she had discovered it.
"Confess the truth," she said to her; "you are afraid to cause some
annoyance to Julia. Now, if that is so, my dear daughter, it is pure
folly. You cannot have any serious scruple on that score. Julia will be
very rich in her own right, and will have no need of your fortune. She
will herself marry in three or four years (much pleasure do I wish her
husband, by the way!); and see a little in what a nice situation you will
find yourself then! But, mon Dieu! are we never going to be done with
them? After the father, here is the daughter now! Eh! mon Dieu! let her
erect chapels with her father's portraits and spurs as much as she
likes--that's her business; I am certainly not the one to enter into
competition with her. But she must at least allow us to live in peace!
What! You could not dispose of your person without her leave! Then if you
are her slave, my dear child, show me the door at once! You could not do
anything more agreeable to her for she cannot bear the sight of me, your
daughter! And then, after all, in all candor, what possible objection can
she have to your getting married again? A step-father is not a
step-mother; it's quite another thing. Eh! mon Dieu! her step-father will
be charming to her--all men will be charming to her; I predict her that;
she may feel easy about it! Now, will you admit that it is the true cause
of your hesitation?"
"I assure you that it is not, mother," said Clotilde.
"I assure you that it is, my daughter. Well, come; would you like me to
speak to Julia, to try and reason with her? I would prefer giving her a
good whipping; however--!"
"Poor, dear mother," rejoined Clotilde, "must I then tell you everything?"
She came to kneel down in front of the baroness.
"By all means, daughter; tell me everything, but don't make me cry, I beg
of you! Is what you have to tell very sad?"
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