[Un Vaincu.] Fate's Fetters ... Translated by Mrs. F. Hoper-Dixon

Chapter I

Midway up the slope of a hill, overlooking the rivers Loire and Vienne, stood a picturesque mansion, which had successfully resisted the ravages of time and the destructive mania inherent in man. Built originally out of the ruins of a castle, it had been added to from time to time ; but, notwithstanding its irregular construction, the general effect was charming. The ancient gables were entirely overgrown by hardy ivy, which had forced its way under the slates, damaged the pointed roofs, and encroached even on the chimneys, without any attempt being made to stay its insolent course. The more modern part of the build ing, erected in the last century, faced a terrace, upheld by old embattled walls, whose stately appearance had long since been lost sight of beneath creepers, which clung to the old stones with all the wildness of a lawless spirit.

On either side of a flight of broad, low steps a former owner had triumphantly placed some lions, hewn out of the soft stone of the country, which, though now blackened with age and covered with moss and lichen, seemed to preside impassively over the succession of generations, joyous or sad, that passed before them. The park was as diverse in appearance as the building. One portion, planted with elms, plane-trees, and sycamores, had all the charm of uncultivated nature ; while the trees in the more immediate vicinity of the mansion had not, for the space of some fifty years, been allowed to run wild, but had been cut into the most fantastic shapes. And yet, in spite of these tortured yews, thick box trees, and stiff hedges of yoke-elm, there was that singular charm about this garden which time casts like a spell over such strange examples of human taste.

The present owner of the mansion had doubtless troubled himself but little with the artistic side of his domain. The acquisition of this manor had been a good windfall to him, as far as his purse and his vanity were concerned, and the admiration expressed for it by people, whose appreciation flattered his vanity, saved the estate. A considerable knowledge of business and fortunate speculations, joined to a sordid economy, had enabled Mr. Jeffrey to realize a fortune ; but his faculties stopped short where his interests had no further room for action. Late in life he had married a young and very beautiful girl, descended from an ancient but impoverished family. Through this marriage he had become allied with the county families, and had thus gained a good position in society. After an uneventful life, extremely narrow in its interests, Mrs. Jeffrey had passed away somewhat suddenly, her last glance resting disconsolately on her young daughter.

The latter, immediately after her mother's death, was placed by her father, in spite of the objections raised by his sister, Miss Constance, who wished to bring up her niece herself, in a convent where daughters of the aristocracy were received. He would even have hesitated to have allowed the child to return home for the holidays had not the fear of public opinion outweighed his disinclination to alter his habits, the narrowness of which had become l yet more accentuated since the death of his wife. It was but rarely that he spoke a civil word to his sister, for although he found her useful, she hardly flattered his vanity ; on the other hand, the old maid loved her brother with that blind love which is ever giving without receiving aught in return. She was a small, thin woman with anything but a good figure.

Her round eyes, her large, thinlipped mouth, her long, pointed nose, the contour of a face whose exact form no words could adequately express, and her oldfashioned and perfectly unique costume, formed a totit ensemble absolutely caricatural. Her hair, which in her younger days had been her sole beauty, was of an indefinite colour — a colour, indeed, that varied according to the dye she employed upon it. She curled her front-hair in papers ; but these almost invariably became loosened owing to the sudden nervous movements to which she, for no earthly reason, was prone. Her views of life and of the world generally were extremely narrow, her intellectual powers being as limited in extent as her observation. Living among people who had absolutely no ideas in their heads, she had no high ideals, but judged everything from the most materialistic point of view.

Perhaps, if she had had a religious bias, she might have been raised above herself — that is to say, if she had not brought religion down to her own low level, a thing which is commonly done ; but she was indifferent on that subject. This poor old spinster, whose life had been embittered by reason of the extreme plainness of her personal appearance, professed to make beauty the object of her worship. When looking with loving admiration at her beautiful niece, she much deplored the fact that the days had now gone by in which princes married mere shepherdesses. ' Some grand destiny would have awaited you, as you are so beautiful, Susan,' she would say sometimes. ' I would have hidden myself in some out-of-the-way corner of your capital, and watched you pass in the distance, excel lingin loveliness all the ladies of the court.

But, rest assured, I should never have told a soul that I was your aunt, for fear of vexing you.' This flight of imagination, caused by her love for her niece, and her conviction that beauty carrries all before it, might have perverted Susan's ideas of life, had she been entrusted to the care of her aunt. Independently of the admiration the old lady felt for her brother on account of the ability he had exhibited in making money, Miss Constance loved him too well to be ignorant of his faults, and she blamed him for not gratifying all his daughter's tastes. Entering fully into the feelings of the young, and knowing their desires — leastways, so far as materialistic enjoyments were concerned — she spent some of her own savings to palliate, to some extent, the privations to which Susan would otherwise have been subjected on account of her father's avarice.

Although in some ways by no means generous, as in the matter of alms-giving, for example, Miss Constance would yet go without the absolute necessaries of life, in order to gratify the young girl's merest whims. She was devoted heart and soul to those she loved, for when she loved it was in no half-hearted manner, but with intense passion, and with a complete self-forgetfulness, which formed a striking contrast to the materialistic side of her character and thoughts. Beyond her brother's domain she had pur chased, at but small outlay, the most singular of habitations, constructed on the slope of a hill, after the style of the cottages of the peasants who live in the vicinity of the river Loire. The house was built in six blocks, connected one with another by means of a lobby opening on to a small flight of steps, which was hidden beneath a number of plants, that had intertwined themselves across it.

From the top of the hill the trees and bushes bent in the direction of this peculiar dwelling, as if desirous of protecting it with their shade and freshness. The garden, which was laid out in regular squares, and sloped almost perpendicularly to the wall, was stocked with vegetables and fruit-trees. Behind the house Miss Constance possessed a vineyard which, in good years, yielded thirty large barrels of excellent wine. Being exceedingly parsimonious in her habits, she lived almost entirely on the produce of her land, without touching the income arising from her little capital, to which she added something yearly with as much pleasure as her brother hoarded up his money. Even during the cold weather she never had fires, maintaining that her house was as warm as a good cellar. At the commencement of the winter a fire was laid in the little drawing room, and when a visitor arrived, the servant, Fanchette, ran to light it, but, acting on the secret orders of her mistress, she had arranged it in such a way that the fire obstinately refused to kindle.

Consequently Miss Con stance's supply of wood was absolutely in exhaustible, and lasted on an average quite ten years. Vegetables, milk, and fruit formed the staple diet of her household. In making their salads they used vinegar, oil being a luxury reserved for the occasions on which Susan came to take breakfast or to dine with her aunt. At such times Fanchette's culinary art, never very first-class, was expected to work wonders ; but, according to Miss Con stance, who knew nothing whatever of cooking herself, the dishes never proved entirely satisfactory. Fanchette, Miss Jeffrey's foster-sister, be longed to a sisterhood, and therefore wore a dress somewhat resembling that of a nun, and she was known as ' the Good Sister.' Deeply imbued with the idea that the descent of the road to hell was remarkably easy, she preached salvation to all who would attend to her words.

She was of medium height, built very much in the rough ; was a hard worker, and had necessity required her to do so she would have been content to have lived on a diet of soup and bread smeared with garlic for an indefinite period. She talked to all comers with great frankness, and in her spare time silled her mind with erroneous ideas culled from the pages of third-rate little religious journals. Stormy words had passed more than once on this subject between mistress and servant ; for not only did Miss Constance not practise any religion, but she was also absurdly pre judiced against priests and religious orders generally. Fanchette had taken upon herself to dispute these prejudices, considering herself to be commissioned by Heaven to lead her mistress to attend confession. ' Come now, miss,' she would say persua sively ; ' why won't you go to confession ?

There is no difficulty in doing so.' ' What would be the use of my beginning to go now, my poor Fanchette ?' ' Is it not a good thing to become recon ciled to God, miss ? You had better take care that He does not refuse, one of these days, to have aught to do with you, and send you to hell.' Miss Constance shrugged her shoulders, and replied : ' Don't bother me, Fanchette ! I tell you I shall make no confessions until I lie on my deathbed : that is good enough for me !' ' How do you know that you will die in your bed, miss ?' Fanchette replied bluntly. ' God has seen fit to strike down many suddenly in His wrath beside yourself — and quite right, too.' And in conclusion she' added, ' Our Rector is an exceedingly good, gentle, and tolerant priest.' ' I like neither priests nor nuns,' replied Miss Constance scornfully. ' My father always told me that they were an idle lot.' ' Ah, really !' cried Fanchette, much in censed. ' So your father thought they were an idle lot, did he, miss ?

Why, he did simply nothing himself, forsooth, but live idly on his estate, wasting most of his for tune on himself, for he has not left you much.' And lest she should be reprimanded for alluding so irreverently to the late Mr. Jeffrey, she rushed out into the garden and commenced digging in great wrath, calling the while upon a multitude of saints to con vert Miss Constance. But the years rolled by, and at the end of each successive Lent, Fanchette saw, with deep despair in her heart, that her mistress had not advanced a single step on the road to salvation. These two were both in the garden one afternoon. Miss Constance with her old fashioned dress looped up, and wearing a large hat, such as shepherdesses wore in olden times, was watering the wild-flowers which grew among the vegetables. As the one and only watering-pot she possessed was broken, and as she had given orders that it should not be replaced unless the vintage proved good, she was obliged to use a broken plate in order to obtain a supply of water from the little reservoir.

Fanchette followed her closely, knitting the while, and letting fall words of wisdom as she went. The previous night she had been troubled with a nightmare, seeing her mistress delivered up to demons. Looking upon this as a warning from heaven, that it was necessary to make renewed efforts to save her mistress's soul from eternal damna tion, she was putting her whole energy to the task. Miss Constance, wholly absorbed with the difficulties of her peculiar methods of watering, listened with but half an ear ; but her attention was aroused when Fanchette, having exhausted her usual stock of arguments, added : ' Well, miss, whatever you may say or do, it is not altogether pleasant for Miss Susan to have an aunt — almost a mother, in fact, seeing that her own is no longer living — who does not receive the Sacrament, even at Easter.

When Miss Susan returns to her father's house, you will naturally be constantly with her. You are supposed to be her counsellor, and splendid counsel that will seem to people who imagine you do not believe in a God ! — for it is not written on your face that you intend to make your confession on your deathbed. People will think that Miss Susan must have the same views as yourself; and if I were a man on the look-out for a wife, I know very well I would sooner go and place myself on a pedestal, like some holy saint, than marry any girl who has no religion.' Miss Constance let the plate fall into the water, and, turning to Fanchette, said very dryly : ' What are you talking about, Fanchette ?' ' Bless my soul, miss, I only said the truth ! You know that well enough.' The old lady, who always attached unbounded importance to the opinions of others, was greatly disturbed by Fanchette's reasoning, which, by chance rather than malice, had struck home.

Horrified at the thought of ruining the prospects of her niece, Miss Constance was unable to sleep a wink all night, and, rising with the dawn, started off at once to get her conscience set to rest by fair means or foul. As she returned, she caught sight of Fan chette, who, ignorant of the cause of this un usual morning walk, stood at the kitchen door, her hand raised like a fan above her eyes to ward off the glare of the sun, watching for the return of her mistress. ' I was wondering what had become of you, miss. You must have risen at cockcrow. You never go out so early, for you have not even energy enough to go occasionally to Mass.' Before replying, Miss Constance, in a great state of agitation, took off her silk mantle, which she had worn for the last quarter of a century, and untied the strings of her hat, which had been fashioned by her own hands, and which presented to the eyes of astonished beholders a marvellous medley of most diverse trimmings blended in a fashion peculiar to Miss Jeffrey. ' Before talking, Fanchette,' she said, ' you should have inquired where I had been.

I have been to Mass, and I have a most im portant piece of news to tell you — I am con verted.' ' You should never joke on such subjects as those,' Fanchette replied angrily. 'Joke indeed !' cried Miss Constance trium phantly. ' I tell you I have been to con fession !' Fanchette, on hearing this, turned scarlet, and so great was her surprise that she let the coffee-pot fall, and all the freshly-made coffee went running in little streams over the red tiled kitchen floor. ' Oh, goodness me ! So much the worse for your breakfast, miss 1 You gave me quite a shock ! But for all that, it is a happy thing that you have been to confession at last, as you have not been for the last fifty years. Why, only yesterday I put up a candle for you before your patron saint. She has not taken long to answer my request.' 'And now,' cried Miss Constance in the same triumphant tone, which seemed to make her voice sound even more metallic than usual, ' now no one can say that I have injured Susan's prospects, and if suitors wish to woo her, I shall not frighten them away.

I know several who will propose to her before long, and, I tell you, she will be able to marry just whom she pleases, for she is as beautiful as any angel.' Fanchette listened indignantly, standing with her arms akimbo. ' Well, now, if that be the only reason for your conversion, it's a good one indeed.' 'What!' cried Miss Jeffrey; 'you don't mean to say that you are not satisfied ? I went to confession ; what more do you want ?' You will be imagining next that you are wiser than the Rector, who has promised me absolution when I go to confession again.' Fanchette meditated a moment, shook her large head, and replied : ' Ah, well, after all, God adopts many methods to accomplish the ends He has in view.' And, energetically removing all traces of the coffee she had spilt, she commenced repeating prayers with great fervour for the soul of her mistress.

Miss Constance, being wholly incapable of comprehending the spiritual side of matters, was perfectly satisfied with what she had done ; her conscience was at rest, and her thoughts, which were ever chiefly occupied with the happiness and future of her niece, were no longer troubled. Mr. Jeffrey, too, had his plans for his daughter's future, for although he gave out that he was not one of those selfish fathers who consider their children created merely to waste their existence beneath the paternal roof, just for the sake of their fathers and mothers, the real truth of the matter was that he was exceedingly anxious to get his daughter off his hands as soon as possible. He looked upon her as if she were some beautiful work of art, the possession of which was gratifying to his vanity, but at the same time was an encumbrance in such a house as his.

It would be difficult to say whether he loved her or no ; at any rate, he was incapable of sympathizing with her as her aunt did, and the idea of altering his mode of living somewhat, to make things more pleasant for her, never entered his head. He hated above all things any interference with his ordinary habits, and sometimes, when slight differences arose between himself and his daughter, the idea that he was in the painful position of a I j hen who had been deceived in her brood would enter his dull brain. Mr. Jeffrey was considered to be extremely wealthy, and although the dowry he had settled on his daughter was not over-large, several suitors had nevertheless appeared to demand the hand of the beautiful Miss Susan. She, however, had quickly sent these gentlemen to the rightabouts, an act which aroused her father's displeasure, for it was another proof of the self-willed character of his daughter, who would not walk in the path he had mapped out for her.

Circumstances, however, arose which tended to the realization of his selfish desires, for a matrimonial project having met with the young girl's approval, she left the convent to become betrothed to this new suitor. It was no illusion on Miss Constance's part, caused by her affection for her niece, that made her think the girl so surpassingly lovely, for she had inherited from her mother a beauty of combined strength and delicacy which was indisputable and altogether fas cinating. Brought up by clever and refined women, she had never remained sufficiently long at home to become contaminated with its sordid influences, and consequently her good qualities had developed without con straint. With her lovely, proud face, her graceful figure, and stately carriage, she looked like some rare exotic plant, growing for some in explicable reason in a stony soil, when in the company of her father and aunt.

She alone seemed to harmonize with the ancient mansion and the park. When she walked amid the curiously-shaped old trees, they seemed to regain their youth at the sight of the youth ful beauty who awoke their remembrances. For long Susan regarded her home - life through the rose-coloured glasses of childhood, although often saddened by feeling that her love for her father was not reciprocated. This feeling, at first but transient, grew with her growth, and ended in a complete aliena tion of her affections. And when the veil which had blinded her vision had been com pletely rent asunder, her delicate instincts, her sentiments and her youthful ideas, the outcome of a frank and upright nature, had often received quite rude shocks during the holidays.

Two days after the signing of the marriage contract, after a hot day spent at Angers with her aunt and lover, Susan sat down to table in so gay a mood that even Mr. Jeffrey thawed beneath her bright young influence ; but such a peaceful state of things never lasted long between father and daughter, some discord ever arising to destroy the harmony. ' What are you waiting for ?' he said to Susan, who after eating a small piece of boiled beef had put down her knife and fork and sunk into a reverie. ' Why, dinner, to be sure, papa,' she said rather maliciously. 'Just because Mr. Varedde is not here, I can't think why the cook should have done so peculiar a thing as to ' ' She has done quite right,' Mr. Jeffrey interrupted sharply, ' for the simple reason that, owing to the obligation I am under of entertaining your lover so often, I am obliged to practise economy when we are alone.' ' Oh, well, father dear,' Susan replied gaily, ' if I had not been going to be married you would have given over the management of the house to me, and you would have seen how I should have contrived to have made a little go a long way.' ' I would have given you nothing of the kind,' Mr. Jeffrey replied quickly ; ' you would have spent four times more than was necessary, 2 — forsooth, and you need not imagine that at my age I would alter my style of living merely to please you.' ' But I would not have asked you to have done so, father,' Susan replied eagerly ; ' I was talking — well, just to talk, without think ing what I was saying.' Feeling abashed, she ate some almonds in silence, while her aunt grieved at the sight of the gloomy look that had overspread the girl's charming face, and, thinking that she was vexed at having so poor a dinner, resolved to give her some stale little cakes which had been stored for some time in her cupboard. ' It is really astonishing,' Susan said, suddenly raising her head, ' that Mark has never condescended to come and congratulate me on my engagement.' ' He has been away, dear child,' replied Miss Constance. ' Yes, I know, but he has returned now ; his mother came and congratulated me, and he ought to have done the same, being my cousin.' ' Oh, well, he is very busy, you know ; he is building a hospital for workmen who are ill, a school for children, and I know not what beside.

Everyone is talking of him ; but, then, he always is talked about for some reason or another. He has such peculiar ideas.' ' At any rate, there is nothing very peculiar in doing good, auntie,' Susan replied eagerly. Mr. Jeffrey made a rapid calculation on his fingers. ' He is going to spend more than 1 30,000 francs on them,' he said, shrugging his shoulders, ' and that, naturally, is not reckon ing the yearly amount he will have to pay to maintain them. I can't make out what enjoyment he finds in wasting so much money.' ' What enjoyment ?' said Susan, firing up ; ' he does not think of enjoyment, father; he has always been generous, and proves that he is so, that is all. What would he do with his money if he did not follow the bent of his generosity ? He is perfectly right, and I am sure Mr. Varedde would think so too.' Mr. Jeffrey opened his small eyes to their fullest extent, but before he could answer Miss Constance replied : ' It is well known that he wants to get elected, and therefore he seeks mob-popu larity to obtain his desire.' ' Mob-popularity !' repeated Susan, hurt at the expression ; ' it is not in him, and I do not believe he thinks of the election at all.

He has always sought solitude on account of his deformity, and I know he hates appearing in public' ' Oh, well, he must have changed his mind, then,' replied Mr. Jeffrey, rising, 'as he would not waste so much money for no purpose.' Susan, amazed, made no reply, but went out into the garden, thinking, with a sigh of relief, that on the morrow her lover would pass the day with her. ' Susan, my dearest,' her aunt said, taking her arm, ' you look vexed, but I can assure you it was mere thoughtlessness on your father's part.

You know that on Saturdays we always have broth, and he forgot that after a tiring day you would need something more substantial for dinner ; but come with me, and I will give you the remains of those little cakes that you thought so delicious about three weeks since.' ' Vexed merely because I had a poor dinner !' said Susan, laughing ; ' why, my dear aunt, how childish you must think me I But, still, I should like some nice fresh little cakes, and at the same time I can wish Fanchette good-morning.' Fanchette was digging away very energetically as Susan approached. ' How very suspiciously you are eyeing me !' said the young girl, laughing. ' Ah, miss, the devil is so cunning that I always have fears on your account.' ' Fears of what ?' ' Never you mind ; it is sufficient that I understand my own meaning,' replied Fan chette, digging her spade vigorously into the ground. ' Are you talking in enigmas now for fear of committing sin ?' ' Well, miss, you see, it is a good thing you are going to be married, for you have a face and figure that might lead to your soul's de struction.' ' Oh, well, you have not much mercy on my soul,' replied the young girl, laughing ; ' married or unmarried, I do not think I should lose it quite so quickly.' ' By the grace of God one can always avoid the pomps and vanities of this wicked world,' Fanchette replied gruffly. ' But here is a visitor come to see you, miss — one whose beauty will never make him proud.' Susan, on turning round, uttered an exclamation of pleasure, and, putting out both her hands to her visitor, said : ' My dear Mark, so you have come at last !

You deserve a good lecture for your tardiness ; but I am so delighted to see you that I cannot think of anything sufficiently disagreeable to say to you.' The man whom she thus familiarly greeted was small and deformed, but his sympathetic. well-shaped face had a perfectly healthy appearance. He was clean-shaved, and had very pronounced features ; his large, dark, in telligent-looking eyes were remarkably fine ; while the rigid curve of his lips gave proof of the struggles and sufferings he had passed through. A distant cousin of Susan's mother, he had, in spite of his secret dislike of Mr. Jeffrey, kept in touch with the family. ' I could not come before, Susie,' he said, ' though I certainly ought to have written to you. You know I went away, and then I had such a tremendous lot of business to get through.

How pretty you look ! — being engaged seems to agree with you.' 'Well, I cannot return the compliment,' Susan replied, observing him closely, ' for you look dreadfully tired, Mark.' ' Oh, I have been working too hard for some time, and have just passed through a manufacturing crisis, which caused me no end of anxiety. Now, however, it is over, and I intend to take a rest.' ' That is right : take a rest,' she said affectionately. ' I am so very sorry to see you looking so ill.' Mr. Preymont coloured, and replied gaily : ' Oh, don't be alarmed ; I have strength enough to stand a certain amount of over work.' ' But now that your cotton-mill is working so well, Mark, I can't understand why you trouble yourself so much about it; both Mr. Varedde and I were saying so only yesterday.' ' It was very good of you both,' replied Mr. Preymont, with slight irony in his tones ; ' work to me is as necessary, though, as the air I breathe.' ' Do you know, people are trying to make out that you are endeavouring to gain popu larity in order to get elected ?