The Alkahest by Honoré de Balzac (easy readers .txt) 📕

occupied in studying the changes of her sister's face to perceive it. After a slight pause, she looked at the notary with an amused smile, and answered of her own accord, to the great joy of Monsieur de Solis:--

"You are indeed a good relation,--I expected nothing less of you; but an interest of five per cent would delay our release too long. I shall wait till my brother is of age, and then we will sell out what he has in the Funds."

Pierquin bit his lip. Emmanuel smiled quietly.

"Felicie, my dear child, take Jean back to school; Martha will go with you," said Marguerite to her sister. "Jean, my angel, be a good boy; don't tear your clothes, for we shall not be rich enough to buy you as many new ones as we did. Good-bye, little one; study hard."

Felicie carried off her brother.

"Cousin," said Marguerite to Pierquin, "and you, monsieur," she said to Monsieur de Solis, "I know you have been to see my father during my absence, and I thank you for that proof of friendship. You will not do less I am sure for two poor girls who will be in need of counsel. Let us understand each other. When I am at home I shall receive you both with the greatest of pleasure, but when Felicie is here alone with Josette and Martha, I need not tell you that she ought to see no one, not even an old friend or the most devoted of relatives. Under the circumstances in which we are placed, our conduct must be irreproachable. We are vowed to toil and solitude for a long, long time."

There was silence for some minutes. Emmanuel, absorbed in contemplation of Marguerite's head, seemed dumb. Pierquin did not know what to say. He took leave of his cousin with feelings of rage against himself; for he suddenly perceived that Marguerite loved Emmanuel, and that he, Pierquin, had just behaved like a fool.

"Pierquin, my friend," he said, apostrophizing himself in the street, "if a man said you were an idiot he would tell the truth. What a fool I am! I've got twelve thousand francs a year outside of my business, without counting what I am to inherit from my uncle des Racquets, which is likely to double my fortune (not that I wish him dead, he is so economical), and I've had the madness to ask interest from Mademoiselle Claes! I know those two are jeering at me now! I mustn't think of Marguerite any more. No. After all, Felicie is a sweet, gentle little creature, who will suit me much better. Marguerite's character is iron; she would want to rule me--and--she would rule me. Come, come, let's be generous; I wish I was not so much of a lawyer: am I never to get that harness off my back? Bless my soul! I'll begin to fall in love with Felicie, and I won't budge from that sentiment. She will have a farm of four hundred and thirty acres, which, sooner or later, will be worth twelve or fifteen thousand francs a year, for the soil about Waignies is excellent. Just let my old uncle des Racquets die, poor dear man, and I'll sell my practice and be a man of leisure, with fifty--thou--sand--francs--a--year. My wife is a Claes, I'm allied to the great families. The deuce! we'll see if those Courtevilles and Magalhens and Savaron de Savarus will refuse to come and dine with a Pierquin-Claes-Molina-Nourho. I shall be mayor of Douai; I'll obtain the cross, and get to be deputy--in short, everything. Ha, ha! Pierquin, my boy, now keep yourself in hand; no more nonsense, because--yes, on my word of honor--Felicie--Mademoiselle Felicie Van Claes--loves you!"

When the lovers were left alone Emmanuel held out his hand to Marguerite, who did not refuse to put her right hand into it. They rose with one impulse and moved towards their bench in the garden; but as they reached the middle of the parlor, the lover could not resist his joy, and, in a voice that trembled with emotion, he said,--

"I have three hundred thousand francs of yours."

"What!" she cried, "did my poor mother entrust them to you? No? then where did you get them?"

"Oh, my Marguerite! all that is mine is yours. Was it not you who first said the word 'ourselves'?"

"Dear Emmanuel!" she exclaimed, pressing the hand which still held hers; and then, instead of going into the garden, she threw herself into a low chair.

"It is for me to thank you," he said, with the voice of love, "since you accept all."

"Oh, my dear beloved one," she cried, "this moment effaces many a grief and brings the happy future nearer. Yes, I accept your fortune," she continued, with the smile of an angel upon her lips, "I know the way to make it mine."

She looked up at the picture of Van Claes as if calling him to witness. The young man's eyes followed those of Marguerite, and he did not notice that she took a ring from her finger until he heard the words:--

"From the depths of our greatest misery one comfort rises. My father's indifference leaves me the free disposal of myself," she said, holding out the ring. "Take it, Emmanuel. My mother valued you--she would have chosen you."

The young man turned pale with emotion and fell on his knees beside her, offering in return a ring which he always wore.

"This is my mother's wedding-ring," he said, kissing it. "My Marguerite, am I to have no other pledge than this?"

She stooped a little till her forehead met his lips.

"Alas, dear love," she said, greatly agitated, "are we not doing wrong? We have so long to wait!"

"My uncle used to say that adoration was the daily bread of patience,--he spoke of Christians who love God. That is how I love you; I have long mingled my love for you with my love for Him. I am yours as I am His."

They remained for a few moments in the power of this sweet enthusiasm. It was the calm, sincere effusion of a feeling which, like an overflowing spring, poured forth its superabundance in little wavelets. The events which separated these lovers produced a melancholy which only made their happiness the keener, giving it a sense of something sharp, like pain.

Felicie came back too soon. Emmanuel, inspired by that delightful tact of love which discerns all feelings, left the sisters alone,--exchanging a look with Marguerite to let her know how much this discretion cost him, how hungry his soul was for that happiness so long desired, which had just been consecrated by the betrothal of their hearts.

"Come here, little sister," said Marguerite, taking Felicie round the neck. Then, passing into the garden they sat down on the bench where generation after generation had confided to listening hearts their words of love, their sighs of grief, their meditations and their projects. In spite of her sister's joyous tone and lively manner, Felicie experienced a sensation that was very like fear. Marguerite took her hand and felt it tremble.

"Mademoiselle Felicie," said the elder, with her lips at her sister's ear. "I read your soul. Pierquin has been here often in my absence, and he has said sweet words to you, and you have listened to them." Felicie blushed. "Don't defend yourself, my angel," continued Marguerite, "it is so natural to love! Perhaps your dear nature will improve his; he is egotistical and self-interested, but for all that he is a good man, and his defects may even add to your happiness. He will love you as the best of his possessions; you will be a part of his business affairs. Forgive me this one word, dear love; you will soon correct the bad habit he has acquired of seeing money in everything, by teaching him the business of the heart."

Felicie could only kiss her sister.

"Besides," added Marguerite, "he has property; and his family belongs to the highest and the oldest bourgeoisie. But you don't think I would oppose your happiness even if the conditions were less prosperous, do you?"

Felicie let fall the words, "Dear sister."

"Yes, you may confide in me," cried Marguerite, "sisters can surely tell each other their secrets."

These words, so full of heartiness, opened the way to one of those delightful conversations in which young girls tell all. When Marguerite, expert in love, reached an understanding of the real state of Felicie's heart, she wound up their talk by saying:--

"Well, dear child, let us make sure he truly loves you, and--then--"

"Ah!" cried Felicie, laughing, "leave me to my own devices; I have a model before my eyes."

"Saucy child!" exclaimed Marguerite, kissing her.

Though Pierquin belonged to the class of men who regard marriage as the accomplishment of a social duty and the means of transmitting property, and though he was indifferent to which sister he should marry so long as both had the same name and the same dower, he did perceive that the two were, to use his own expression, "romantic and sentimental girls," adjectives employed by commonplace people to ridicule the gifts which Nature sows with grudging hand along the furrows of humanity. The lawyer no doubt said to himself that he had better swim with the stream; and accordingly the next day he came to see Marguerite, and took her mysteriously into the little garden, where he began to talk sentiment,--that being one of the clauses of the primal contract which, according to social usage, must precede the notarial contract.

"Dear cousin," he said, "you and I have not always been of one mind as to the best means of bringing your affairs to a happy conclusion; but you do now, I am sure, admit that I have always been guided by a great desire to be useful to you. Well, yesterday I spoiled my offer by a fatal habit which the legal profession forces upon us--you understand me? My heart did not share in the folly. I have loved you well; but I have a certain perspicacity, legal perhaps, which obliges me to see that I do not please you. It is my own fault; another has been more successful than I. Well, I come now to tell you, like an honest man, that I sincerely love your sister Felicie. Treat me therefore as a brother; accept my purse, take what you will from it,--the more you take the better you prove your regard for me. I am wholly at your service--WITHOUT INTEREST, you understand, neither at twelve nor at one quarter per cent. Let me be thought worthy of Felicie, that is all I ask. Forgive my defects; they come from business habits; my heart is good, and I would fling myself into the Scarpe sooner than not make my wife happy."

"This is all satisfactory, cousin," answered Marguerite; "but my sister's choice depends upon herself and also on my father's will."

"I know that, my dear cousin," said the lawyer, "but you are the mother of the whole family; and I have nothing more at heart than that you should judge me rightly."

This conversation paints the mind of the honest notary. Later in life, Pierquin became celebrated by his reply to the commanding officer at Saint-Omer, who had invited him to be present at a military fete; the note ran as follows: "Monsieur Pierquin-Claes de Molina-Nourho, mayor of the city of Douai, chevalier of the Legion of honor, will have THAT of being present, etc."

Marguerite accepted the lawyer's offer only so far as it related to his