Jupiter's Daughters

Part I. Chap

PAGE I. ST GLOI 1 II. NEW MASTER AND OLD SERVANTS .... 7 III. INTENSE GOOD SENSE 14 IV. WE SHALL SEE WHAT WILL COME OP IT . . . 23 V. FORESHADOWINQS 34 VI. A FIRST SUNDAY AT STE MARIE, AND SUSPICION LULLED 41 VII. DISCOVERIES — ENDING WITH A CONFLAGRATION . . 55 VIII. WHO WAS LAST NOW FIRST 66 IX. A LILLIPUTIAN VENGEANCE 77 X. THE IDEAL 87 XI. THE CONSEQUENCES OF NOT DOING AS OTHERS DO . . 95 XII. MADAME RENDU TO THE RESCUE 109 XIII. JACTA ALEA EST 115 XIV. BONNE MAMAN ADVERSARY AND PARTISAN . . . 122 XV. A NEW PRETENDER 130 XVI. THE GREAT 'YES ' 139

Part II

I. A DOMESTIC TREASURE 151 II. stephanie's DISCOVERIES 161 III. A FKENCH PLAY 172 IV. PAINFUL REALITIES CONTENTS. CHAP PAGK V. A FIRST WARNING 188 VI. ON THE " QUI VIVE " 195 VII. GOSSIP 203 VIII. MEASURING A LANCE WITH SOCIETY .... 211 IX. SPECULATIONS . . - 218 X. PLAYED — AND LOST 230 XI. BON SECOURS 248- XII. THE CRASH OF LIFE 259 XIII. ONE OF LIFE'S TANGLES 265 XIV. NOUGHT 's HAD WHEN ALL IS DONE .... 273 XV. PATHWAYS HERE DIVIDE ...... 278 XVI. DARK HOURS 286 XVII. TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT THINGS . . . .291

PART I CHAPTER

I. ST GLOI. Calme petite ville, ou t-ai-je dejji vue ? Dans quel reve, ou dans quel pays ? ' — A. Theuriet. In the spring of 1866 M. Eugene Delanoy died. His death was an event that had heen daily looked for during the last ten years ; yet when it occurred, it took every one hy surprise. M. Delanoy had heen an old man as long as any of his neighhours could rememher him ; nay, he was generally believed hy them to have passed his hundredth year. He had lived in complete seclu sion at the Chateau de Sept Ormes ever since he first came thither, seeing no one, returning no visits, and holding no communication with the town, ex cept through his two servants, as old and eccentric as himself. As he had lived, so he died, without either friend, or priest, or doctor. M. Delanoy' s death disturbed St Gloi, through A it had long ceased to take any interest in his life.

In that far-away district religion still held her own ; and a death unsoothed and unblessed by the Church distressed many good souls, and scandal ised even the indifferent. Old stories were revived of his having been a member of the Convention — an abettor of Barere's cruelties ; for rumour seldom troubles herself with dates or probabilities. Itwas whispered, then affirmed, that he had left instruc tions tbat he was to be buried without any religious ceremony — enterre civilement ; that after having lived like an atheist, he was to be buried like a dog. Luckily, the old gentleman's notary arrived from Paris, and the town was edified by a funeral sancti fied by all the pomp of the Church. The St Gloisians, as was natural, felt an ardent curiosity about M. Delanoy's property. What had he left, and to whom had he left it ?

Was there more than the Chateau, its dependencies, and an adjoining vineyard ? The Paris notary was not, seemingly, unwilling to speak of the affairs of his late client. Why should he, when they were in a prosperous state ? He therefore made it known that the heir was a distant cousin — a M. de Saye — at that moment in Italy or Greece ; in fact, travelling for his pleasure. M. de Saye was young — a year or two under thirty, unmarried, holding no place under ST gloi. Government, of no profession — had, in one word, been waiting to succeed to his cousin. There are some people who, with a semblance of infinite frank ness, conceal as much as they please. They seem to make no mystery, to be not the least reticent, and yet leave you as little informed as they deem fit. In the end, this pleasant Paris lawyer carried away with him much more information than he had given.

He had made himself acquainted pretty accurately with the affairs of the leading families — knew the figure of the dowries of their daughters, information to be imparted to M. de Saye, and other clients on the look-out for eligible wives or daughters-in-law. St Gloi is neither rich nor aristocratic, but it is a thriving and most respectable third-rate town. At the head of society are the Rendus— rentiers, that is, living on their dividends, and quite retired from business; the Joreys, ironmasters'; the Chambauds, large wine-growers ; the Belairs, bankers ; and a great wood-merchant. St Gloi, not being a chief town, had but a secon dary set of Government officials, who counted for nothing with the Rendus and Joreys. In addition, there were some young men in the lower grades of the magistracy — a career always betokening some private fortune — and the necessary complement of advocates, solicitors, aud notaries.

The St Gloisians adored their native place, and it was by no means unusual to hear them give it the preference over Paris. Nevertheless, they were intensely patriotic, and excused the morals of the capital by asserting that all the vice flourishing there was of foreign growth, for which they thanked Providence. The ladies had a sincere veneration for the Bishop of Orleans. They had read his first and second letter on the education of women ; they preferred and held to the advice in the second. Long before Monseigneur had counselled the bring ing-up of girls on the knees of the Church, the mothers of St Gloi had acted on that system. As a rule, the young girls of St Gloi were educated at the convent of the Dames Dominicaines, a convent within the precincts of the town. Madame Rendu furnished the exception by sending her only child, Pauline, to the Sacre Cœur, in Paris.

Old Madame Jorey, Pauline's godmother, had remonstrated, and the two young Mesdames Jorey had shaken their heads, but only when out of sight of Madame Rendu. ' It is best to abide by old ways,' said the old lady. ' See what has been the consequence of new ones. Scarcely possible to satisfy workpeople ; servants think themselves equal to their masters and mistresses ; money does not go so far, and we are fairly devoured and dete riorated by the influx of foreigners.' Madame ST GLOI. Rendu answered once for all by pointing to that passage in Monseigneur's letter which counsels cultivation of talents as a help for women scarcely less efficacious than religion. Pauline had a de cided talent for music and drawing, and her mother would not have them wrapped up or buried. , The Mesdames Jorey held to their opinion, and said among their intimates, ' We shall see what will come of it.' However, when Pauline returned home, no one could discover that she was a whit the worse for her sojourn in the Paris convent.

Nowhere could you see more frank eyes, a mouth more innocent. She was like a fine clear sky— full of promise ; modest, not shy ; willing to please, not anxious to shine ; nothing apparent that would lead you to imagine there were any finer elements in her char acter than in those surrounding her ; nothing to militate against her doing as other girls did, and as she was expected to do — marry the man chosen by her parents, have her trip to Paris, visit the Palais-Royal Theatre (that ambition of month-old matrons), buy new furniture to last a lifetime, and return home, at the end of six weeks, to settle down into a careful housewife.

Chapter II. New Master And Old Servants

It was in the beginning of June that M. Delanoy's heir arrived at the Chateau de Sept Ormes. He came accompanied by a friend, not even a Paris valet to disturb the equanimity of his uncle's two old servants, Eloque and Gonde. They were not man and wife, but Eloque was nevertheless completely under petticoat government. It was said — though who first said it was never known — that Eloque had a keen sensibility to rosy cheeks and smart figures, which often brought him into trouble. Gonde, looking forward to a prolongation of her reign, took care that the first dinner she served to her new master should be in her best style. ' What a chance to find such a cook in this banishment ! ' said M. Vilpont, Gaston's guest. ' Mon cher, I shall probably prolong my visit ; ' adding in a lower tone, ' Suppose you seek information about any other amenities attached to your inheritance ? ' Gaston followed up the suggestion by opening a conversation with Eloque. ' We saw several charming ladies this afternoon as we drove through the town.' Eloque grinned, and answered, ' Comme <ja, monsieur.' ' Do they entertain much here ? ' asked Vilpont. ' Comme 9a, monsieur.' ' Any chateaux near enough for visiting ? ' Eloque grinned, and shook his head.

For Eloque, the neighbouring Chateau of Ste Marie did not exist, inhabited as it was by Madame Jorey, widow of a manufacturer. At an interview with Gonde the next morning the two young men were indemnified for Eloque's taci turnity. Gonde knew everything about everybody, and was ready to tell all she knew. If you were to believe her, there were not five just men in St Gloi. According to her, every one of the fine stone houses on the Boulevard concealed a crime. ' Where there 's money, there 's always a covering for sin,' quoth she. ' Thank God,' said De Saye, ' we saw some pretty little girls not old enough to be criminals ! ' ' Pretty ! does monsieur call Pauline Rendu and the Joreys pretty ? To be sure, Pauline will have millions for her dowry.' ' Are young ladies called by their Christian names by everybody here ?" inquired Vilpont, with a glance of the eye that angered while it quelled Gonde for the moment. ' Why not ? ' said the old woman, with an at tempt at excuse ; ' her grandfather was just one of us.

They say he " lent by the week " during the great troubles.' ' And the others you named ? ' ' Oh ! monsieur means the Joreys. They make the blue cloth for blouses. The father has had one fit ; and when he goes, the girls (I mean the young ladies) won't have millions. They burn the candle at both ends, monsieur and madame. Monsieur eats and drinks, and Madame dresses. Last new year monsieur took the stick to madame because she bought a gown with the money he had given her for the pastrycook. But,' said Gonde, suddenly changing the subject, ' Eloque and I beg monsieur to say when he expects his new servants.' De Saye was amazed. ' Why, my good lady, I thought you were both fixtures here ? ' Gonde laughed sarcastically. ' Oh ! not at all, monsieur. We are both tired of service ; we have saved something, and my niece at Lyons offers me a room in her house.

One must have some quiet years to make one's salvation {faire son salut). As soon as monsieur could suit himself, Gonde and Eloque would be glad to leave. St Gloi was not their country ; they had only stayed from affection for M. Delanoy.' ' You disappoint me,' said Gaston. ' I shall break my heart to lose you — such an inimitable cook as you are ! Besides, I meant to have left the Chateau in your care ; for you understand, I am not going to live here all the year through. However, I respect your wishes. Your going will depend on yourself. Find me trustworthy persons to take your place ; till then I hope you have too good a heart to leave a poor young man without any one to care for him. I shall get into all manner of scrapes without you to advise me.' Gaston said all this with such a grave face that Gonde was half inclined to believe that he had taken her in earnest, in which case she must modify her declaration. ' Monsieur judged her rightly.

She was not one to do an unhandsome thing ; but she and Eloque were old to be the servants of a young master, and if monsieur had thoughts of marrying' Gaston stopped her — ' Fate still holds a veil over the date of that terrible event, my provident Gonde — an event still more alarming for me than for you. I will give you fair warning. It wouldn't do to make my bride jealous ; so let it be under stood that your marriage or mine alone parts us.' ' I like that Gaston,' said Gonde to Eloque ; 'but they'll give him no peace till he is married. If he has any faith in me, it won't be in St Gloi he will choose a wife.' M. de Saye paid a hundred visits in the course of that week. It is the custom in France for newcomers to take the first steps towards acquaintance, and De Saye was sociable by nature- ' Remember,' he said to Vilpont, who laughed at his ardour, ' as a neighbour and proprietor, it is my interest to be civil.

Some future day I may wish to come forward as deputy.' He found Gonde really an invaluable ally. The little old woman gave him not only the names of all the notables, but supplied him with such notes of their private history as would pilot him safely through the rocks and shoals of first visits. Ninety nine of these were of a uniform tint. All the salons, and all the ladies in them, were alike ; con versation and mirrors, dress, and tables and chairs of one pattern ; no books visible ; reading was con sidered in St Gloi as loss of time. If women read at all, it was unavowable feuilletons in secret con clave. The hundredth visit, the one exception, was that for Madame Rendu. First of all, she was not dressed for the occasion ; then what she said was at variance with the formal and complimentary tone of the other ninety-and-nine calls.

She was as little encouraging as possible to M. de Saye ; while as to Vilpont, all the notice she bestowed on him were two stiff bows — one on his entering, one on his departing. Every one else had striven, by insinuating questions, to know who Vilpont was — why he was at St Gloi, and when he was going away. The explanation that he was on a friendly visit to M. de Saye would have satisfied any but the dwellers in a small provincial town. They did not understand friendship ; they only understood relationship. ' A snake in the grass,' was a pretty general opinion. Madame Rendu gave herself no trouble about Vilpont, either as to who he was, or what might be his motives for staying. De Saye was another matter. She was aware that she should be forced to think of him ; from that there was no hope of escape, unless, indeed, he was already an engaged man, which she devoutly hoped might be the case.

Even while he was sitting opposite to her, doing his best to be agreeable to this difficult woman, she was meditating how to ward off his visits. She had made up her mind to keep M. de Saye at arm's-length until she was certain that he could fulfil the conditions she should require in a son in-law. Vilpont sat smiling and amused, watching his friend's efforts to please, and criticising his cour teous speeches, which all fell short, like spent balls. As they were leaving the room, Vilpont's eye was caught by a landscape in water-colours — a beech tree overhanging a deep pool, and a sunny dis tance. ' A clever sketch,' he said ; and going nearer to it, he saw the name Pauline in a corner, and a date. Madame Rendu took no notice of the obser vation. The two men drew a long breath as they issued from the house. ' What a terrible mother-in-law ! ' exclaimed Vilpont; adding, ' Gaston, I pity you.' ' She is solidly respectable,' returned the other ; ' and that sort of woman has not a bad effect in a family.' ' Not when she has a daughter with a fortune of a million.' Gaston shrugged his shoulders. ' " Sooner or later one must make an end."

This idiom means one must marry.' ' Bon voyage ! ' laughed Vilpont. Gonde questioned Eloque every day as to what the gentlemen talked of at dinner ; but Eloque had nothing to tell. ' They never,' he said, ' spoke of any one in St Gloi.' Nor was Gonde herself more lucky in her listen ings at doors or her interviews with Gaston ; but she had formed her own opinion of her new mas ter's character. ' If he marries Pauline Rendu, he '11 never know again what it is to have his own way.' Eloque silenced her by one of his preternatural grin 8,

Chapter III. Intense Good Sense

Evert one who knows the habits of provincial towns will feel sure that De Saye's visits would be fruitful of other visits. The friends had not left Madame Rendu ten minutes when Madame Chambaud was announced. Pauline, and her friends Stephanie and Julie Jorey, seeing her pass, said at once, ' Now they are going to talk marriage.' Madame Rendu, who thought the same, left the initiative to Madame Chambaud, and stretching her small person at full length on a sofa, exclaimed, ' How easily tired I am now ! What it is to grow old!' Madame Chambaud smiled, saying, ' At forty five a woman may still have some pretensions.' ' As to that, I prefer to be the woman of to morrow rather than the woman of yesterday ; age depends on character. I was born old.' The visitor shrugged her shoulders flatteringly.

Almost every one flattered Madame Rendu, for no reason but that she was rich, richer than the people who visited her. It was a real disinterested homage paid to wealth. ' You, with your in come,' or ' When one's name stands before seven figures, quite another thing from poor me,' were speeches constantly saluting Madame Rendu's ear. And though she said, ' Ah ! mon Dieu ! ' as if the announcement were an accusation, and though she despised the flatterers, she was tickled by the flattery. Before speaking further, Madame Chambaud glanced at a door communicating with an inner room. ' She is in the garden with her inseparables, the Joreys.' ' I hear that Pauline is teaching them German, and she knows Italian also. You have educated her, dear lady, for another sphere than our poor town can offer.' ' I hope her education has prepared her to be a good wife anywhere.

The only way to keep women out of mischief is to teach them to occupy themselves agreeably. That has been our aim in all we have done. Rendu and I are of one mind on that subject, and as for other people's opinions ' ' I have always heard you praised for your way of educating Pauline,' interrupted Madame Chambaud. ' As to that, I don't know ; but no doubt I am criticised just as severely as my neighbours,' replied Madame Rendu, who, having a good deal of the strong personality of the purse-proud, walked over her acquaintances (with her tongue) without re morse. In France there are many ladies, even great ladies, who take on themselves the office of a matrimonial agent. It is common enough to hear it said, 'Madame Such-a-one made that marriage.' It is a disinterested service, the love of art for art.

Madame Chambaud was one of these match makers. It was she who, with infinite tact, had made the elderly Vicomte de Trois Etoiles marry Euphernie Devrient, after she had reached the fatal age of thirty. It was Madame Chambaud who had married a shipowner, fabulously wealthy, to little Ernestine Loanet, whom Madame Nature had made ugly, but whom Madame Chambaud, milliners and coiffeurs, had transformed into a piquante brunette, the rage for a season before and after her marriage. Both Madame Chambaud's protegees did her honour. Madame la Vicomtesse was at the head of various pious and charitable societies, and enjoyed the counsels of the most famed of directors. The ship owner's wife had taken another course. She had doffed her pretensions to beauty and fashion, and was now a femme politique with a salon, which was a rendezvous for the leaders of the Opposition.

We all have some talent which enables us to do some one thing better than others. Madame Chambaud had decided that her talent lay in marrying people. Once engaged in her vocation, her life became full of interest. She was always, as it were, in the third volume of an exciting novel. Her new heroine was to be Pauline Rendu. She had, ever since Pauline's coming home, turned over in her mind all the young men of the Department. There were the sons of the two deputies ; the only son and child of a great manufacturer ; the sub stitute of the Procureur-Imperial, a young man belonging to old nobility ; and lastly, the newly appointed Juge d' Instruction. But one was too young; another too old; there was .suspicion of consumption in the family of a third ; the fourth had assumed a de that was subject to doubt; the fifth was in every point unsuitable.

M. Delanoy's heir was the oiseau bleu sent by a kind Providence to marry Pauline Rendu — age, looks, fortune, position, all as if provided by spe cial interposition. She only hoped that Pauline's mother might see all these advantages as clearly as others did. Feeling thus, and in no way abashed by her rich friend's abruptness, Madame Chambaud went on complacently — B ' Curious that M. de Saye is not yet marriedhe looks thirty.' ' Probably he waited for the old man's death to be able to marry ; these sons of family have sel dom much besides their name.' ' Well, that is something, particularly nowadays.' 'Not my way of thinking,' replied Madame Rendu. ' My daughter has not been brought up to endure privations, and her fortune will not be large enough during our lifetime to make up for want of money in her husband.

However, as I do not in tend that Pauline should marry before her majority, the age at which I myself married, I have time for consideration.' ' What a sensible woman you are ! Really, even knowing you so well as I do, you astonish me. Few mothers — indeed, I may say none — in St Gloi are at this moment thinking like you ; for instance, Madame Maloteau.' ' I should be delighted to hear of Isabelle's marriage to M. de Saye. It is time she was married ; she is four-andtwenty.' Madame Chambaud paid several visits after leaving Madame Rendu, and did not deny herself the pleasure of expatiating on the subject of Mademoi selle Rendu's dowry. The simple conclusion to be drawn from what Madame Chambaud reported was, that the Rendus did not intend to open their purse very wide at the young lady's marriage. ' Quite right,' said some ; ' expectations are what make good sons-in-law.' ' But M. and Mme. Rendu may live these thirty or even forty years,' observed the Juge d'Instruc tion. ' Yes, it 's long to wait,' replied another young man.

The Chief of the Indirect Taxes was Madame Rendu's next visitor. He had been one of the listeners to Madame Chambaud's report. He was one of your cordial men. He began — ' Ha, ha ! my dear lady ; here is just what you require, landed at your very door — young, handsome, well-born, and destined for a prefec ture/ ' Then you have not seen Madame Chambaud,' replied Madame Rendu drily. ' I have recom mended her to make a match between Isabelle Maloteau and M. de Saye.' ' Seriously ? ' ' Very seriously. We look for a fortune at least equal to that of Pauline.' ' And that is ? ' ' Imagine ! Rendu has never told me how much ; but I fancy M. de Saye would fall short of our mark.' The Chief of the Indirect Taxes went away, saying to himself, ' Clever woman — sharp, but hard ; a wonderful clear sight.

Ah ! poor Rendu ! ' The young ladies had been discussing the same matters from tlieir point of view. There could be no disputing that M. de Saye was handsome ; it was a self-evident fact. His friend Vilpont was, on the contrary, open to criticism. He was one of those men whose appearance was suggestive of many readings, according to the age and experience of the reader. He had fine dark eyes, deeply set ; a thin, narrow face, and a long nose. The mouth, that betrayer of character, was hidden by a thick mustache. He was tall, of a wiry figure, and stooped slightly. Of him Mademoiselle Jorey said, ' He looks like a priest.' ' M. de Saye reminds me of the heads in hair dressers' shops,' retorted Pauline. ' Every one says he is just the right husband for you,' observed Julie. ' I won't have him.

I dislike him already. Besides, I heard mamma say he would suit Isabelle Maloteau.' ' I see what will happen,' continued Julie. ' Pauline will refuse every one because of that ideal she saw in Paris.' ■ ' True ; I must wait till I find out if he is married.' ' But you may never see him again. And if you do, and find he is already married, what will you do ? ' ' Then, I suppose, I must do like the rest.' ' Papa had an offer for one of us,' said Ste phanie. ' It seems it did not matter which — not very flattering. It came through Madame — -you know who. The name of the gentleman was not to be mentioned unless one of us agreed to accept him; for he did not relish its being known he had been refused. Rich and young, madame said. As his business was in Russia, of course we said No. We found out afterwards who it was, and I could not have endured him.

Only suppose I had said Yes!' ' You might have come to like him/ said Julie. ' Claire refused M. Nogent — at least, the letter of refusal was written — and then she said she would see him once more, and it ended in her marrying ; and now she tells every one she adores him.' ' I daresay we shall all begin in the same way,' said Stephanie. ' If Pauline will not have M. de Saye, I should not wonder if he were offered to one of us ! ' ' I hope he will marry Isabelle Maloteau, and save us all trouble,' said Pauline. ' I think he is good enough for the best of us,' retorted Stephanie. ' Then marry him yourself,' laughed Pauline. ' I promise you my blessing.' Madame Rendu's voice calling out, ' Young ladies ! ' put a peaceable end to a dangerous dis cussion.

Chapter IV. We Shall See What Will Come Of It

The stagnant waters of life were distasteful to Madame Chambaud, and no place had a more complete coating of stagnation than respectable St Gloi. Destiny loves contradictions. The active find themselves in a position where there are no legitimate openings for their activity; while the dull, or the lovers of quiet, are plunged into a vortex which destroys their peace of mind. What a godsend, then, for misplaced Madame Chambaud, was the arrival of a handsome, un married, tolerably well-off young man, within a stone's-throw of the octroi of the town ! Madame Rendu might like it or not, but Madanie Chambaud was not going to give up her projects. Whether it failed or whether it suc ceeded, the hatching of it would be amusing. Match-making to her was what flirtation is to younger women. Though one dinner painfully resembled another — the same dishes, the same guests, the same conversation, nourished entirely on local gossip — nevertheless an invitation never failed to raise a ripple on the Dead Sea of the society of St Gloi.

The ripples became waves when M. and Mme. Chambaud sent out cards for a dinner which no one doubted was given in honour of M. de Saye. Madame Rendu at once proposed to send an apology. ' Why should we refuse ? ' asked M. Rendu. And Pauline exclaimed— ' We have only been out twice since New Year's Day, and this is June ! ' Madame made no direct reply. She said — ' You have nothing fresh to wear ; and it is throwing money away to buy dresses to let them grow shabby in wardrobes.' ' White muslin washes and wears for ever,' urged Pauline. ' There is no time to get a new dress made ; and if I did order one, it would be the town-talk.' ' We could get one from Paris, mamma. We have only to write to Madame Roger.' ' No gossiping then with the Joreys.' Pauline did not need a second bidding. When she showed her note to her mother, Madame Rendu remarked — ' What French ! — as clear as Chinese !