The chateau1 of La Pauline stands at the head of the valley of the Nartubie in the department of Var, and looks down upon Draguignan, the capital of that division of France. La Pauline, and its surrounding lands formed the dot of the Vicomtesse de Clericy, and the products of its rich terraces were of no small account in the family revenues.
It was to this spot that Lucille and her mother repaired in the month of December. Not far away the Baron3 Giraud had his estate—the modern castle of "Mon Plaisir," with its little white turret4, its porcelain5 bas-reliefs in brilliant colours let into the walls, its artificial gardens ornamented6 with gold and silver balls, and summer-houses of which the windows were glazed7 with playful fancy that outdid nature in clothing the prospect8 in the respective hues9 of spring, summer, autumn and winter.[73]
Very different from this was the ancient chateau of La Pauline, perched half-way up the mountain on a table-land—its grey stone face showing grimly against a sombre background of cypress10 trees. The house was built, as the antiquarians of Draguignan avow11, of stone that was hewn by the Romans for less peaceful purposes. That an ancient building must have stood here would, indeed, be to some extent credible12, from the fact that in front of the house lies a lawn of that weedless turf which is only found in this country in such places as the Arena13 at Fréjus. In the center of the lawn stands a sun dial—grey, green and ancient—a relic14 of those days when men lived by hours, and not by minutes, as we do to-day. It is all of the old world—of that old, old world of France beside which our British antiquities15 are, with a few exceptions, youthful. This was the birthplace of Madame de Clericy and of Lucille herself. Hither the ladies always returned with a quiet joy. There is no more peaceful spot on earth than La Pauline, chiefly, perhaps, because there is nothing in nature so still and lifeless as an olive grove16. Why, by the way, do the birds of the air never build their nests in these trees—why do they rarely rest and never ring there? Behind La Pauline—so close, indeed, that the little chapel17 stands in the grey hush18 of the trees, guarded, of course, by a sentinel circle of[74] cypresses—rise the olive terraces and stretch up, tier above tier, till the pines are reached. Below the grey house the valley opens out like a fan, and far away to the south the rugged19 crags of Roquebrune stand out against a faint blue haze20, which is the Mediterranean21.
No better example of Peace on Earth is to be found than La Pauline after sunset, at which time the olive groves22 are a silver fairyland—when the chapel bell tinkles23 in vain for the faithful to come to vespers—when the stout24 old placid25 curé sits down philosophically26 in the porch to read the office to himself, knowing well that a hot day in the vineyards turns all footsteps homewards.
When the ladies are in residence at the chateau, it is a different matter. Then, indeed, the curé lays aside his old soutane and dons that fine new clerical habit presented to him by Mademoiselle Lucille at the time of her first communion, when the Bishop27 of Fréjus came to Draguignan, and the whole valley assembled to do him honour there.
The ladies came, as we have said, in December, and at the gate the curé met them as usual—making there, as was his custom, a great hesitation28 as to kissing Lucille, now that she was a demoiselle of the great world, having—the rogue29!—shaved with extraordinary care for that very purpose, a few hours earlier. Indeed, it is to be feared that[75] the good curé did not always present so cleanly an appearance as he did on the arrival of the ladies. Here the family lived a quiet life among the peasants, who loved them, and Lucille visited them in their cottages, taking what simple hospitality they could offer her with a charm and appetite unrivalled, as the parishioners themselves have often told the writer. In these humble30 homes she found children with skins as white, with hair as fair and bright, as her own, and if the traveller wander so far from the beaten track, he can verify my statement. For in Var, by some racial freak—which, like all such matters, is in point of fact inexplicable—a large proportion of the people are of fair or ruddy complexions31.
Had the Vicomtesse desired it, the neighbourhood offered society of a loftier, and, as some consider, more interesting, nature, but that lady did not hold much by social gatherings32, and it was only from a sense of duty that she invited a few friends, about the time of Lucille's birthday—her twenty-first birthday, indeed—to pass some days at La Pauline.
These friends were bidden for the 26th December, and among them were the Baron Giraud and his son Alphonse.
Alphonse arrived on horseback in a costume which would have done credit to the head-groom of a racing33 stable. The right-hand twist of his[76] mustache was eminently34 successful, but the left-hand extremity35 drooped36 with a lamentable37 effect, which he was not able to verify until after he had greeted the ladies, whom he met in the garden, as he rode toward the chateau.
"My father," he cried, as he descended38 from the saddle, "that dear old man, arrives on the instant. He is in a carriage—a close carriage, and he smokes. Picture it to yourselves—when there is this air to breathe—when there are horses to ride. Madame la Vicomtesse"—he took that lady's hand—"what a pleasure! Mademoiselle Lucille—as beautiful as ever."
"Even more so," replied Lucille with her gay laugh. "What exquisite39 riding-boots! But are they not a little tight, Alphonse?"
For Lucille could not perceive why playmates should suddenly begin to monsieur and mademoiselle each other after years of intimacy40. This was the rock in that path which Alphonse, like the rest of us, found anything but smooth. Lucille was so gay. It is difficult to make serious love to a person who is not even impressed by English riding-boots.
"WHAT EXQUISITE RIDING-BOOTS! BUT ARE THEY NOT A LITTLE
TIGHT, ALPHONSE?" "WHAT EXQUISITE RIDING-BOOTS! BUT ARE THEY NOT A LITTLE TIGHT, ALPHONSE?"
At this moment the Baron's carriage appeared on the zig-zag road below the chateau, and Madame de Clericy's face assumed an expression of placid resignation. In due time the vehicle, with its[77] gorgeous yellow wheels, reached the level space upon which the party stood. The Baron Giraud emerged from the satin-lined recesses41 of the dainty carriage like a stout caterpillar42 from a rose, a stumpy little man with no neck and a red face. A straggling dyed mustache failed to hide an unpleasant mouth, with lips too red and loose. Cunning little dark eyes relieved the countenance43 of the Baron Giraud from mere44 animalism. They were intelligent little eyes, that looked to no high things and made no mistake in low places. But the Baron Giraud did not make one proud of the human race. This was a man who handled millions with consummate45 skill and daring, and by a certain class of persons he was almost worshipped. Personally, a 'longshore loafer who can handle a boat with the same intrepidity46 is to me a pleasanter object, though skill of any description must command a certain respect.
There were other guests to whom the Baron was presently introduced, and towards these he carried himself with the pomposity47 and hauteur48 which are only permissible49 to the very highest rank of new wealth. Lucille, as I learnt from Monsieur Alphonse later—indeed, our friendship was based on the patience with which I listened to his talk of that young lady—was dressed on this particular afternoon in white, but such matters as these bungled50 between two men will interest no one.[78] Her hair she wore half in curls, according to the hideous51 custom of that day. Is it not always safe to abuse the old fashion? And at no time safer than the present, when the whole world gapes52 with its great, foolish mouth after every novelty. I remember that Lucille looked pretty enough; but you, mesdames, who laugh at me, are no doubt quite right, and a thousand times more beautiful in your mannish attire53.
The guests presently dispersed54 in the shady garden, and the Baron accepted Madame's offer of refreshment55 on the terrace, whither a servant brought a tray of liqueurs. The pleasant habit of afternoon tea had not yet been introduced across the channel, and French ladies had still something to learn.
"Ah, Madame!" said the Baron Giraud in a voice that may be described as metallic56, inasmuch as it was tinny, "these young people!"
With a wave of his thick white hand he indicated Alphonse and Lucille, who had wandered down an alley2 entirely57 composed of orange trees, where, indeed, a yellow glow seemed to hover58, so thickly hung the fruit on the branches. Madame followed the direction of his glance with a non-committing bow of the head.
"I shall have to ask Monsieur le Vicomte what he proposes doing in the way of a 'dot,'" pursued[79] the financier with a cackling laugh, which was not silvery, though it savoured of bullion59. The Vicomtesse smiled gravely, and offered the Baron one of those little square biscuits peculiar60 to Fréjus.
"Madame knows nothing of such matters?"
"Nothing," answered she, meeting the twinkling eyes.
"Ah!" murmured the Baron, addressing, it would seem, the distant mountains. "Such details are not, of course, for the ladies. It is the other side of the question"—he laid his hand upon his waistcoat—"the side of the affections—the heart, my dear Vicomtesse, the heart."
"Yes," answered Madame, looking at him with that disquieting61 straight glance of hers—"the heart."
In the mean time—in the orange alley—Alphonse was attempting to get a serious hearing from Lucille, and curiously62 enough was making use of the same word as that passing between their elders on the terrace above them.
"Have you no heart?" he cried, stamping his foot on the mossy turf, "that you always laugh when I am serious—have you no heart, Lucille?"
"I do not know what you mean by heart," answered the girl with a little frown, as if the subject did not please her. And wiser men than Alphonse Giraud could not have enlightened her.[80]
"Then you are incapable63 of feeling," he cried, spreading out his hands as if in invocation to the trees to hear him.
"That may be, but I do not see that it is proved by the fact that I am not always grave. You, yourself, are gay enough when others are by, and it is then that I like you best. It is only when we are alone that you are—tragic. Is that—heart, Alphonse? And are those who laugh heartless? I doubt it."
"You know I love you," he muttered gloomily, and the expression on his round face did not seem at home there.
"Well," she answered, with a severity gathered heaven knows whence—I cannot think they taught it to her in the convent—"you have told me so twice since you became aware of my continued existence at the ball last month. But you are hopelessly serious to-day. Let us go back to the terrace."
She stooped and picked up an orange that had fallen, throwing it subsequently along the smooth turf for her dog to chase.
"See," she said gaily64, "Talleyrand will scarcely trouble to run now. He is so stout and dignified65. He is afraid that the country dogs should see him. It is Paris. Paris spoils—so much."
"You know my father's plans concerning us,"[81] said Alphonse, after a pause, which served to set aside Talleyrand and the orange.
"The Baron's plans are, I am told, wonderful, but"—she paused and gave a little laugh—"I do not understand finance."
They walked up the steps together, between the trim borders, where spring flowers were already breaking into bud. On the terrace they found the Vicomtesse and the Baron Giraud. A servant was going towards the house carrying carelessly a small silver salver. The Baron was standing66 with an unopened envelope in his hand.
"You will permit me, Madame," they heard him say with his strident little self-satisfied laugh. "A man of affairs is the slave of the moment. And the affairs of state are never still. A great country moves even in its sleep."
Having the permission of Madame, he tore open the envelope, enjoying the importance of the moment. But his face changed as soon as his glance fell on the paper.
"The government has fallen," he gasped67, with white lips and a face wherefrom the colour faded in blotches68. He seemed to forget the ladies, and looked only at his son. "It may mean—much. I must go to Paris at once. The place is in an uproar69. Mon Dieu—where will it end!"
He excused himself hurriedly, and in a few min[82]utes his carriage rattled70 through the grey stone gateway71.
"An uproar in Paris," repeated Lucille, anxiously, when she was alone with her mother. "What does he mean? Is there any danger? Will papa be safe?"
"Yes," answered the Vicomtesse quietly; "he will be safe, I think."
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1
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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22
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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tinkles
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| 丁当声，铃铃声( tinkle的名词复数 )； 一次电话 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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31
complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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41
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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pomposity
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| n.浮华；虚夸；炫耀；自负 | |
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hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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permissible
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| adj.可允许的，许可的 | |
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bungled
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| v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的过去式和过去分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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gapes
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的第三人称单数 )；张开，张大 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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56
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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bullion
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| n.金条，银条 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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blotches
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| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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