The Complete Works: Short Stories, Novels, Plays, Poetry, Memoirs and more. Guy de Maupassant
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playful and natural, which seemed likely to lead to love.
They saw one another nearly every day, for the two girls had conceived feelings of strong friendship toward Christiane, into which, no doubt, there entered a considerable element of gratified vanity. Gontran suddenly showed a disposition to remain constantly at his sister’s side; and he began to organize parties for the morning and entertainments for the evening, which greatly astonished Christiane and Paul. Then they noticed that he was devoting himself to Charlotte; he gaily teased her, paid her compliments without appearing to do so, and manifested toward her in a thousand ways that tender care which tends to unite two beings in bonds of affection. The young girl, already accustomed to the free and familiar manners of this gay Parisian youth, did not at first see anything remarkable in these attentions; and, abandoning herself to the impulses of her honest and confiding heart, she began to laugh and enjoy herself with him as she might have done with a brother.
Now, she had returned home with her elder sister, after an evening party at which Gontran had several times attempted to kiss her in consequence of forfeits due by her in a game of “fly-pigeon,” when Louise, who had appeared anxious and nervous for some time past, said to her in an abrupt tone:
“You would do well to be a little careful about your deportment. M. Gontran is not a suitable companion for you.”
“Not a suitable companion? What has he done?”
“You know well what I mean — don’t play the ninny! In the way you’re going on, you would soon compromise yourself; and if you don’t know how to watch over your conduct, it is my business to see after it.”
Charlotte, confused, and filled with shame, faltered: “But I don’t know — I assure you — I have seen nothing— “
Her sister sharply interrupted her: “Listen! Things must not go on this way. If he wants to marry you, it is for papa — for papa to consider the matter and to give an answer; but, if he only wants to trifle with you, he must desist at once!”
Then, suddenly, Charlotte got annoyed without knowing why or with what. She was indignant at her sister having taken it on herself to direct her actions and to reprimand her; and, in a trembling voice, and with tears in her eyes, she told her that she should not have interfered in what did not concern her. She stammered in her exasperation, divining by a vague but unerring instinct the jealousy that had been aroused in the embittered heart of Louise.
They parted without embracing one another, and Charlotte wept when she got into bed, as she thought over things that she had never foreseen or suspected.
Gradually her tears ceased to flow, and she began to reflect. It was true, nevertheless, that Gontran’s demeanor toward her had altered. She had enjoyed his acquaintance hitherto without understanding him. She understood him now. At every turn he kept repeating to her pretty compliments full of delicate flattery. On one occasion he had kissed her hand. What were his intentions? She pleased him, but to what extent? Was it possible by any chance that he desired to marry her? And all at once she imagined that she could hear somewhere in the air, in the silent night through whose empty spaces her dreams were flitting, a voice exclaiming, “Comtesse de Ravenel.” —
The emotion was so vivid that she sat up in the bed; then, with her naked feet, she felt for her slippers under the chair over which she had thrown her clothes, and she went to open the window without consciousness of what she was doing, in order to find space for her hopes. She could hear what they were saying in the room below stairs, and Colosse’s voice was raised: “Let it alone! let it alone! There will be time enough to see to it. Father will arrange that. There is no harm up to this. ’Tis father that will do the thing.”
She noticed that the window in front of the house, just below that at which she was standing, was still lighted up. She asked herself: “Who is there now? What are they talking about?” A shadow passed over the luminous wall. It was her sister. So then, she had not yet gone to bed. Why? But the light was presently extinguished; and Charlotte began to think about other things that were agitating her heart.
She could not go to sleep now. Did he love her? Oh! no; not yet. But he might love her, since she had caught his fancy. And if he came to love her much, desperately, as people love in society, he would certainly marry her.
Born in a house of vinedressers, she had preserved, although educated in the young ladies’ convent at Clermont, the modesty and humility of a peasant girl. She used to think that she might marry a notary, perhaps, or a barrister or a doctor; but the ambition to become a real lady of high social position, with a title of nobility attached to her name had never entered her mind. Even when she had just finished the perusal of some love-story, and was musing over the glimpse presented to her of such a charming prospect for a few minutes, it would speedily Vanish from her soul just as chimeras vanish. Now, here was this unforeseen, inconceivable thing, which had been suddenly conjured up by some words of her sister, apparently drawing near her after the fashion of a ship’s sail driven onward by the wind.
Every time she drew breath, she kept repeating with her lips: “Comtesse de Ravenel.” And the shades of her dark eyelashes, as they closed in the night, were illuminated with visions. She saw beautiful drawingrooms brilliantly lighted up, beautiful women greeting her with smiles, beautiful carriages waiting before the steps of a chateau, and grand servants in livery bowing as she passed.
She felt heated in her bed; her heart was beating. She rose up a second time in order to drink a glass of water, and to remain standing in her bare feet for a few moments on the cold floor of her apartment.
Then, somewhat calmed, she ended by falling asleep. But she awakened at dawn, so much had the agitation of her heart passed into her veins.
She felt ashamed of her little room with its white walls, washed with water by a rustic glazier, her poor cotton curtains, and some straw-chairs which never quitted their place at the two corners of her chest of drawers.
She realized that she was a peasant in the midst of these rude articles of furniture which bespoke her origin. She felt herself lowly, unworthy of this handsome, mocking young fellow, whose fair hair and laughing face had floated before her eyes, had disappeared from her vision and then come back, had gradually engrossed her thoughts, and had already found a place in her heart.
Then she jumped out of bed and ran to look for her glass, her little toilette-glass, as large as the center of a plate; after that, she got into bed again, her mirror between her hands; and she looked at her face surrounded by her hair which hung loose on the white background of the pillow.
Presently she laid down on the bedclothes the little piece of glass which reflected her lineaments, and she thought how difficult it would be for such an alliance to take place, so great was the distance between them. Thereupon a feeling of vexation seized her by the throat. But immediately afterward she gazed at her image, once more smiling at herself in order to look nice, and, as she considered herself pretty, the difficulties disappeared.
When she went down to breakfast, her sister, who wore a look of irritation, asked her:
“What do you propose to do to-day?”
Charlotte replied unhesitatingly: “Are we not going in the carriage to Royat with Madame Andermatt?”
Louise returned: “You are going alone, then; but you might do something better, after what I said to you last night.”
The younger sister interrupted her: “I don’t ask for your advice — mind your own business!”
And they did not speak to one another again.
Père Oriol and Jacques came in, and took their seats at the table. The old man asked almost immediately: “What are you doing to-day, girls?” Charlotte said without giving her sister time to answer: “As for me, I am going to Royat with Madame Andermatt.”
The two men eyed her with an air of satisfaction; and the father muttered with that engaging smile which he could put on when discussing any business of a profitable character: “That’s good! that’s good!”
She