"Thank you for that word, my good young lady," said Raynal."Now, Ideclare, you are the first that has said that word to me about my losing the true friend, that nursed me on her knee, and pinched and pinched to make a man of me.I should like to tell you about her and me.""I shall feel honored," said Josephine, politely, but with considerable restraint.
Then he told her all about how he had vexed her when he was a boy, and gone for a soldier, though she was all for trade, and how he had been the more anxious to see her enjoy his honors and success.
"And, mademoiselle," said he, appealingly, "the day this epaulet was put on my shoulder in Italy, she died in Paris.Ah! how could you have the heart to do that, my old woman?"The soldier's mustache quivered, and he turned away brusquely, and took several steps.Then he came back to Josephine, and to his infinite surprise saw that her purple eyes were thick with tears.
"What? you are within an inch of crying for my mother, you who have your own trouble at this hour.""Monsieur, our situations are so alike, I may well spare some little sympathy for your misfortune.""Thank you, my good young lady.Well, then, to business; while you were praying to the Virgin, I was saying a word or two for my part to her who is no more.""Sir!"
"Oh! it was nothing beautiful like the things you said to the other.
Can I turn phrases? I saw her behind her little counter in the Rue Quincampoix; for she is a woman of the people, is my mother.I saw myself come to the other side of the counter, and I said, 'Look here, mother, here is the devil to pay about this new house.The old woman talks of dying if we take her from her home, and the young one weeps and prays to all the saints in paradise; what shall we do, eh?' Then I thought my old woman said to me, 'Jean, you are a soldier, a sort of vagabond; what do you want with a house in France? you who are always in a tent in Italy or Austria, or who knows where.Have you the courage to give honest folk so much pain for a caprice? Come now,' says she, 'the lady is of my age, say you, and I can't keep your fine house, because God has willed it otherwise; so give her my place; so then you can fancy it is me you have set down at your hearth: that will warm your heart up a bit, you little scamp,' said my old woman in her rough way.She was not well-bred like you, mademoiselle.A woman of the people, nothing more.""She was a woman of God's own ******, if she was like that," cried Josephine, the tears now running down her cheeks.
"Ah, that she was, she was.So between her and me it is settled--what are you crying for NOW? why, you have won the day; the field is yours; your mother and you remain; I decamp." He whipped his scabbard up with his left hand, and was going off without another word, if Josephine had not stopped him.
"But, sir, what am I to think? what am I to hope? it is impossible that in this short interview--and we must not forget what is due to you.You have bought the estate.""True; well, we will talk over that, to-morrow; but being turned out of the house, that was the bayonet thrust to the old lady.So you run in and put her heart at rest about it.Tell her that she may live and die in this house for Jean Raynal; and tell her about the old woman in the Rue Quincampoix.""God bless you, Jean Raynal!" cried Josephine, clasping her hands.
"Are you going?" said he, peremptorily.
"Oh, yes!" and she darted towards the chateau.
But when she had taken three steps she paused, and seemed irresolute.
She turned, and in a moment she had glided to Raynal again and had taken his hand before he could hinder her, and pressed two velvet lips on it, and was away again, her cheeks scarlet at what she had done, and her wet eyes beaming with joy.She skimmed the grass like a lapwing; you would have taken her at this minute for Rose, or for Virgil's Camilla; at the gate she turned an instant and clasped her hands together, with such a look, to show Raynal she blessed him again, then darted into the house.
"Aha, my lady," said he, as he watched her fly, "behold you changed a little since you came out." He was soon on the high road marching down to the town at a great rate, his sword clanking, and thus ran his thoughts: "This does one good; you are right, my old woman.
Your son's bosom feels as warm as toast.Long live the five-franc pieces! And they pretend money cannot make a fellow happy.They lie; it is because they do not know how to spend it."Meantime at the chateau, as still befalls in emergencies and trials, the master spirit came out and took its real place.Rose was now the mistress of Beaurepaire; she set Jacintha, and Dard, and the doctor, to pack up everything of value in the house."Do it this moment!" she cried; "once that notary gets possession of the house, it may be too late.Enough of folly and helplessness.We have fooled away house and lands; our movables shall not follow them."The moment she had set the others to work, she wrote a single line to Riviere to tell him the chateau and lands were sold, and would he come to Beaurepaire at once? She ran with it herself to Bigot's auberge, the nearest post-office, and then back to comfort her mother.
The baroness was seated in her arm-chair, moaning and wringing her hands, and Rose was nursing and soothing her, and bathing her temples with her last drop of eau de Cologne, and trying in vain to put some of her own courage into her, when in came Josephine radiant with happiness, crying "Joy! joy! joy!" and told her strange tale, with this difference, that she related her own share in it briefly and coldly, and was more eloquent than I about the strange soldier's goodness, and the interest her mother had awakened in his heart.
And she told about the old woman in the Rue Quincampoix, her rugged phrases, and her noble, tender heart.The baroness, deaf to Rose's consolations, brightened up directly at Josephine's news, and at her glowing face, as she knelt pouring the good news, and hope, and comfort, point blank into her.But Rose chilled them both.
