The Mysteries of Paris. Эжен Сю

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to feed out of my hands!"

      "Of course she would come when you called her. Let me see, what name shall we give her? Suppose we say, Musette. Do you like that? She shall be very young and gentle, and entirely white."

      "Oh, what a pretty name! Musette! Ah, Musette, Musette, I shall be always feeding you and patting you to make you know me."

      "Now we will finish the inside of your apartment, Fleur-de-Marie. The curtains and furniture are green, like the blinds; and outside the window grow an enormous rose-tree and honeysuckle, which entirely cover this side of the farm, and so surround your casements that you have only to stretch out your hand to gather a large bunch of roses and honeysuckle wet with the early morning dew."

      "Ah, M. Rodolph, what a good painter you are!"

      "Now this is the way you will pass your day—"

      "Yes, yes, let us see how I shall employ myself all day."

      "Early in the morning your good aunt wakes you with a tender kiss; she brings with her a bowl of new milk, just warm, which she prays you to drink, as she fancies you are delicate about the lungs, poor dear child! Well, you do as she wishes you; then rise, and take a walk around the farm; pay a visit to Musette, the poultry, your pets the pigeons, the flowers in the garden, till nine o'clock, when your writing-master arrives—"

      "My writing-master?"

      "Why, you know, unless you learned such necessary things as reading, writing, and accounts, you would not be able to assist your aunt to keep her books relative to the produce of the farm."

      "Oh, to be sure! How very stupid of me not to recollect that I must learn to write well, if I wished to help my aunt!" cried the young girl, so thoroughly absorbed in the picture of this peaceful life as to believe for the moment in its reality.

      "After your lesson is concluded, you will occupy yourself in household matters, or embroider some pretty little article of dress for yourself; then you will practise your writing for an hour or two, and, when that is done, join your aunt in her round of visits to the different operations of the farm; in the summer, to see how the reapers get on in the hay field; in harvest-time, to observe the reapers, and afterwards to enjoy the delight with which the gleaners pick up the scattered ears of grain; by this time you will have almost tired yourself, and gathering a large handful of wild herbs, carefully selected by you as the known favourites of your dear Musette, you turn your steps homewards—"

      "But we go back through the meadow, dear M. Rodolph, do we not?" inquired La Goualeuse, as earnestly as though every syllable her ears drank in was to be effectually brought to pass.

      "Oh, yes! by all means; and there happens, fortunately, to be a nice little bridge, by which the river separating the farm-land from the meadow may be crossed. By the time you reach home, upon my word, it is seven o'clock; and, as the evenings begin to be a little chill, a bright, cheerful fire is blazing in the large farm kitchen; you go in there for a few minutes, just to warm yourself and to speak a few kind words to the honest labourers, who are enjoying a hearty meal after the day's toil is over. Then you sit down to dinner with your aunt; sometimes the curé, or a neighbouring farmer, is invited to share the meal. After dinner you read or work, while your aunt and her guest have a friendly game at piquet. At ten o'clock she dismisses you, with a kiss and a blessing, to your chamber; you retire to your room, offer prayers and thanksgivings to the Great Author of all your happiness, then sleep soundly till morning, when the same routine begins again."

      "Oh, M. Rodolph, one might lead such a life as that for a hundred years, without ever knowing one moment's weariness."

      "But that is not all. There are Sundays and fête-days to be thought of."

      "Yes; and how should we pass those?"

      "Why, you would put on your holiday dress, with one of those pretty little caps à la paysanne, which all admit you look so very nicely in, and accompany your aunt in her large old-fashioned chaise, driven by James the farm servant, to hear mass in the village church; after which, during summer, your kind relative would take you to the different fêtes given in the adjoining parishes. You, so gentle, so modest and good-looking, so tenderly beloved by your aunt, and so well spoken of by the curé for all the virtues and qualifications which make a good wife, will have no scarcity of offers for your hand in the dance—indeed, all the principal young farmers will be anxious to secure you as a partner, by way of opening an acquaintance which shall last for life. By degrees you begin to remark one more than the others; you perceive his deep desire to attract your undivided attention, and so—" And here Rodolph, struck by the continued silence of La Goualeuse, looked up at her. Alas! the poor girl was endeavouring, though fruitlessly, to choke the deep sobs which almost suffocated her. For a brief period, carried away by the words of Rodolph, the bright future presented to her mental vision had effaced the horrible present; but too quickly did the hideous picture return, and sweep away for ever the dear delight of believing so sweet, so calm an existence could ever be hers.

      "Fleur-de-Marie," asked Rodolph, in a kind and affectionate tone, "why is this? Why these tears?"

      "Ah, M. Rodolph, you have unintentionally caused me much pain. Foolish girl that I was, I had listened to you till I quite fancied this paradise were a true picture."

      "And so it is, my dear child! This paradise, as you call it, is no fiction."

      "Stop, coachman!"

      "Now look! see! observe where we are!"

      As the carriage stopped, La Goualeuse, at Rodolph's bidding, mechanically raised her head—they were on the summit of a little hill. What was her surprise, her astonishment, at the scene which revealed itself to her gaze! The pretty village, built facing the south, the farm, the meadow, the beautiful cows, the little winding river, the chestnut grove, the church in the distance—the whole picture, so vividly painted, was before her eyes. Nothing was wanting—even the milk-white heifer, Musette, her future pet, was peacefully grazing as she had been described. The rich colouring of an October sun gilded the charming landscape, while the variegated tint of the chestnut-leaves, slightly tinged by the autumnal breezes, stood out in bold relief against the clear blue of the surrounding sky.

      "Well, my little Fleur-de-Marie, what do you say to this? Am I a good painter, or not?"

      La Goualeuse looked at him with a surprise in which a degree of uneasiness was mingled; all she saw and heard appeared to her to partake largely of the supernatural.

      "M. Rodolph," she at length exclaimed, with a bewildered look, "how can this be? Indeed, indeed, I feel afraid to look at it—it is so exactly alike. I cannot believe it is anything but a dream you have conjured up, and which will quickly pass away. Speak to me! pray do; and tell me what to believe."

      "Calm yourself, my dear child! Nothing is more simple or true than what you behold here. The good woman who owns this farm was my nurse, and brought me up here; intending to give myself a treat, I sent to her early this morning to say I was coming to see her. You see I painted after nature."

      "You are quite right, M. Rodolph," sighed La Goualeuse. "There is, indeed, nothing but what is quite natural in all this."

      The farm to which Rodolph had conducted Fleur-de-Marie was situated at the outer extremity of the village of Bouqueval—a small, isolated, and unknown hamlet, entirely surrounded by its own lands, and about two leagues' distance from Ecouen; the vehicle, following the directions of Rodolph, rapidly descended the hill, and entered a long avenue bordered with apple and cherry trees, while the wheels rolled noiselessly over the short fine grass with which the unfrequented road was СКАЧАТЬ