Volume III Part 76 (1/2)

”Oh, it is so much the worse for you, darling, that it is so long since my heart has poured forth. Think, then, how, with my fear of awakening in you the remembrances of the past which I wish to annihilate, and that I will forever annihilate in your mind, I dared not converse to you of these comparisons, these parallels, which render you so admirable in my eyes. How many times have Clemence and I been enraptured with you. How many times moved so that the tears rose in her eyes, has she said to me, 'Is it not wonderful that this child should be what she is, after misfortune has so pursued her? or, rather,' would Clemence continue, 'is it not wonderful that, far from impairing that n.o.ble and rare nature, misfortune has, on the contrary, given a higher range to what there was excellent in her?'”

At this moment the door opened, and Clemence, Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Gerolstein, entered, holding a letter in her hand.

”Here, my friend,” said she to Rudolph, ”is a letter from France. I wish to bring it to you, that I might say good-morning to my indolent child, whom I have not seen this morning,” added Clemence, embracing Fleur-de-Marie tenderly.

”This letter comes just at the right moment,” said Rudolph, gayly, after having read it through. ”We were talking just now of the past; of that monster we must incessantly combat, my dear Clemence, for it threatens the repose and happiness of our dear child.”

”Is this true, my friend? those attacks of melancholy which we have observed--”

”Have no other cause than wicked remembrances; but, fortunately, we now know our enemy, and we will triumph over it.”

”But from whom, then, is this letter, my friend?” asked Clemence.

”From Rigolette, the wife of Germain.”

”Rigolette!” exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie; ”what happiness to hear from her!”

”My friend,” said Clemence, aside to Rudolph, at the same time glancing at Fleur-de-Marie, ”do you not fear that this letter may recall to her painful recollections?”

”These are those very remembrances I wish to put an end to, my dear Clemence: we must approach them boldly, and I am sure that I shall find in Rigolette's letter excellent arms against them, for this excellent little creature adored our child, and appreciated her as she should be.”

And Rudolph read aloud the following letter:--

”Bouqueval Farm, August 15th, 1841.

”YOUR HIGHNESS, I take the liberty of writing to you again, to make you a sharer of a great happiness which has befallen us, and to ask a new favor of you, to whom we already owe so many, or, rather, to whom we owe the perfect paradise in which we live, I, my Germain, and his good mother.

”This is the cause, my lord; for ten days I have been mad with joy, for it is ten days since I have possessed the love of a little girl: I fancy that she is the very picture of Germain; be, that she is of me; our dear Mamma George says that she resembles both; the fact is she has charming blue eyes like Germain, and black hair, curly, like mine. Just now, contrary to his custom, my husband is unjust; he wishes to have our little one always upon his knees, while it is my right, is it not, my lord?”

”Fine, worthy young persons! they ought to be happy,” said Rudolph. ”If ever couple were well matched, it is they.”

”And Rigolette deserves her happiness,” said Fleur-de Marie.

”I have always blessed the good fortune that caused me to meet them,” said Rudolph, and he continued, ”But, indeed, my lord, pardon my burdening you with these little family quarrels that end always with a kiss. Certainly your ears must tingle well, my lord, for there does not pa.s.s a day that we do not say, looking at each other, we too, Germain and I, 'How happy we are! O, G.o.d, how happy we are!' and, naturally, your name follows directly after these words. Excuse the scrawl there is just here, my lord, and the blot; I had written without thinking, M. Rudolph, as I used to say, and I have scratched it out. I hope, by the way, that you will find my writing has improved much, as well as my orthography, for Germain always shows me how, and I no longer make great blots stretching all across, as when you made my pens.”

”I must confess,” said Rudolph, laughing, ”that my friend is under a slight illusion, and I am sure that Germain is occupied rather with kissing the hand of his pupil than directing it.”

”Come, come, my dear, you are right,” said Clemence, looking at the letter, ”the writing is rather large, but very legible.”

”In truth, there is some progress,” said Rudolph; ”formerly it would have taken eight pages to contain what she writes now in two.”

And he continued: ”It is, however, true, that you have made pens for me, my lord; when we think of it, Germain and I, we are quite ashamed, in recalling how far from proud you were. Oh, here again do I find myself speaking to you of something besides what we wish to ask you, my lord; for my husband unites with me, and it is very important; we have formed a plan.

You shall see. We supplicate you, then, my lord, to have the goodness to choose and give us a name for our dear girl; it is agreed upon with the G.o.dfather and G.o.dmother, and this G.o.dfather and G.o.dmother, do you know who they are, my lord? Two persons whom you and her ladys.h.i.+p the Marchioness d'Harville have raised from misery to render happy, happy as we are. In a word, they are Morel, the jeweler, and Jeanne Duport, the sister of a poor prisoner named Pique-Vinaigre, a worthy woman whom I saw in prison when I went to visit my poor Germain there, and whom, afterward, her ladys.h.i.+p, the marchioness, brought out from the hospital. Now, my lord, you must know why we have chosen M. Morel for G.o.dfather, and Jeanne Duport for G.o.dmother. We said one to another, Germain and I, this will be a way of thanking M.

Rudolph again for his kindness, by taking for G.o.dfather and G.o.dmother of our little girl worthy people who owe everything to him and to the marchioness, without taking into consideration that Morel the jeweler and Jeanne Duport are the cream of honest people. They are of our cla.s.s, and besides, as Germain and I say, they are our kindred in happiness, for they are like us, of the family of your _protegees_, my lord.”

”Oh, father, has not this idea a charming delicacy,” said Fleur-de-Marie, with emotion, ”to take as G.o.dfather and G.o.dmother of their child those who owe everything to you and my second mother.”

”You are right, dear child,” said Clemence; ”I am most deeply touched by this token.”

”And I am very glad that I have so well bestowed my benefits,” said Rudolph, continuing to read.