Virginie's Husband. A novel

Front matter

NOVELS BY KATHARINE S. MACsJUOID. New and cheaper issue'. Each volume 5s. THE SERIES COMMENCES WITH BESIDE THE RIVER. A FAITHFUL LOVER TOO SOON. London: A. D. INNES & CO., (late Walter Smith & Innes), 31 & 32, Bedford Street, Strand, W. C. VIRGINIE'S HUSBAND. NEW NOVELS. By Mrs. Macquoid. MAISIE DERRICK. 2 vols. il 1*. OcJ. Bv Roma Whitf.. PUNCHINELLO'S ROMANCE. 1 vol 6« Bv Anthony Hope. MR. WITT3§=--WIDOW: A Frivolous Tale fo ■ i vol. 6s. I r, myo'Q A New Votitfa ../ tlir TIP-CAT SERIES Bv Charlotte M. Yonge, THE COUNTESS KATE AND STOKESLEY SECRET. ( 'mir,, SVO. Bs. 6d. London: A. T>. INNES & CO., (late Walter Smith & Innes), 31 & 32, Bedford Street. Strand. W.C. VIRGIN! IAS 11 US Li A XI) A NOVEL, J!Y ESME STU A R T , AUTHOB OF "A FAIR DAMZETJL," L'ONF. FOB TBE OTHEB JOAN VELLACOT," ETC.

ETC Time ili3ssirr>ates to shiuiug ether the solij angularity of facts. Denton : A . D . 1 N X E S & C 0 . (late Walter Smith & Innes), 31 & 32. BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C CONTENTS. chapter. page. I. DREAMS OF THE FUTURE 1 II. AN OLD CHATEAU 18 III. AT CROSS PURPOSES 31 IV. AN unwilling listener 43 V. ordering the wedding gown 56 VI. A LIVELY ALTERNATIVE 71 Vil. an appeal 85 VIII. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 98 IX. VIRGINIE'S REQUEST 112 X. DEAD MEN'S SHOES 121 XI. THE DAY FIXED 132 XII. COUNTING HEE CHICKENS 143 XIII. DEAD HOPE 156 XIV. THE EVE OF THE WEDDING 165 XV. MAN AND WrIFE 179 XVI. FLOWN 201 XVII. A WOMAN DROWNED 216 XVIII. HUSHING IT UP ■ ... CHAPTER. PAGE. XIX. IN HIDING 237 XX. A NOBLE VISITOR 247 XXI. MADAME JOLYET'S IDEA 260 XXII. A TEACHER OF MUSIC 270 XXIII. THE COUSIN ACHILLE 281 XXIV.

THE HUNGARIAN HEIRESS 293 XXV. virginie's LOVER 304 XXVI. preparing the sonata 319 XXVII. an evening party 328 XXVIII. THE LAST MOVEMENT 341 XXIX. TILL DEATH US

Chapter I. Dreams Of The Future

If you stand in the churchyard, at Anvers on the Oise, your eyes will see great stretches of highly cultivated land, which seem to speak plainly of the wonderful riches of sunny France, and still more of the great industry of its peasant race. The hroad river sweeps on in placid beauty after passing historic Pontoise, and curves round the wooded island just above Anvers, as if wishing for the sake of its artistic population to add yet another picturesque feature to the landscape ; because in these villas, which nestle snugly in wooded grounds, many artists have taken up their abode, and there is a look here of well-being which cannot always be found in small country-places in France. But cross the river by the bridge which here spans the Oise, and walk on for a mile by the poplar-shaded road, and you will lose sight ofthe villas and the riches of Anvers, to find yourself in a quiet and little frequented country village.

In Tribes there are but three streets— the principal one, which runs straight up the hill to the rail way station, and two narrower ones, of which one leads to the church, the other lies on sloping ground a little above the main highway, for the whole of the little village is surrounded by hilly ground. So the Tribes riches are easily counted — the one long street, the church, the railway station, and the chateau of M. le Comte de Pomaret, well shut in from public gaze by its picturesque park enclosed by stone walls. There are besides two massive wrought-iron gates, but these are kept locked and have no lodges near to them. One gate is close to the church, which in fact joins on to the chateau, and the other grille is at the further end of the village near to the school, so that when the boys and girls rush out during recrea tion time they often flatten their little brown faces against the railings and peer into the beautiful park, wishing they too might scamper there and turn into happy counts and viscounts.

It will thus be seen that Tribes is not altogether a common village, and it possesses not only the chateau, but also a large house built of beautiful white stone ; indeed the whole village seems to be more or less constructed of stone, and the reason is that Tribes lies over M. Rouard's stone quarries, into the long underground galleries of which no strangers would trust themselves without a guide : and even the villagers, except those who work there. show a marked disinclination to explore the gloomy passages, the entrances to which are those black arched openings which one sees here and there as one walks about the place. These quarries have been worked many years. and the fine-grained white stone extracted from them has made the fortune of the present owner, M. Rouard. His brother-in-law, M. Jolyet, has a small share in the business, but this latter does not count.

It is M. Rouard who is the king of Tribes; it is he who gives employment to all the men in the village still able to work at the quarries : and it is he also who superintends every department of the business, but woe to the unfortunate individual who offends him! It would be almost better at once to make an exodus out of Tribes than to fall under the displeasure of the owner of the quarries, for he is rich enough to buy up even all the Count's property if that noble did not cling to his land and his chateau with the tenacity which tbe old nobility nowr and then exhibit in spite of being unable to keep them up. When the Count passes up the village (which he does not often do, for he can reach the rail way station through his own park), the children and the women who are sitting by their doors have a long discussion about his appearence ; but when M. Rouard strides up or down — an event which is of daily occurrence — men, women and children seem to straighten themselves and to put on their best manners, for M. Rouard has the keen, eagle-like glance which seems to take in everything and to inscribe what he sees on some hidden tablet of his brain for future use — for, whatever else may fail, it will not be Mr. Rouard's memory.

The other celebrities of the village are all so insignificant when compared with these two great men that they never have the chance of asserting themselves too much. There is, of course, the cure, a good old man who is loved and respected, but has but little influence on the male population ; there is M. Gerard the doctor, who lives near the river and drives about in the queerest cabriolet imaginable, possessing high wheels and a round flatfish head, much like the "uglies" of our grandmothers ; there is, of course, the baker, the butcher, and the general storekeeper, besides quite a grand gentleman, M. Cana the chemist, who, in the eyes of Tribes, can make up prescriptions better than any Paris chemist. Besides this, Tribes owns the usual amount of old aunts apparently related to everybody, and small proprietors who rank themselves with M. Rouard when he is not by, among whom is M. Dubois, the mushroom grower, who though quite of humble origin makes a good deal of money by hiring some unused underground stone galleries, and growing endless small white round-headed mushrooms for the Paris market.

And then, in summing up the population, let us not forget the cottagers, whose wives make braid trimming of intricate patterns, whilst their husbands and brothers are earning bread by the sweat of their brows at M. Rouard's underground quarries. Thus, though only an hour from Paris, if you chance to get a quick train, Tribes seems to be all-sufficient for itself, and, given such a diversity of interests, there is certainly food for conversation, so that a real Tribes person is never dull. As Madame Cana says : " All, well ! at Paris I feel so dull and lost, no one seems to care at all about me, but here at Tribes one lives the real life, one knows all that happens except in the chateau. Even there, if you can get hold of Jean Marie Gautier. or his wife, why, they will give you some idea of the Count's doings; but poor Jean Marie and Toinette are worked to death, for Madame la Com tesse will not have many servants and trusts the Gautiers with everything.

Yes, Tribes is the place where one can be happy all the year round." M. Cana is not Tribes born, and does not much care for the gossip so faithfully retailed to him VIRGINIE'S HUSBAaXD. by his wife; he has lived in Paris and despises the village people a httle, so he replies: " The Count and Countess, ma bonne amie, are not very interesting people ; he is an artificial man who is proud and pious, and Madame his wife is proud and poor ; and the sons — bah ! they will not long be kept in leading-strings. They are all out of date; they forget there is no noblesse left in France, they are " Madame Cana is Tribes born ; indeed it was her money that enabled M. Cana to buy the goodwill of the last Tribes chemist, so she will not be talked down by the Republican Georges, even though he be her husband.

" I remember M. le Comte's mother, Georges, quite a noble she was; you may say there is no nobility left in France, but I know better. You couldn't mistake Monsieur le Comte for M. Rouard, for instance." "M. Rouard! Ah, ma belle, you couldn't indeed! There's a man for you, a man with an iron will and rich ; ah ! but rich, and he will leave a fortune to Lucien; and the widowed daughter, young Madame Lefort, he will certainly marry her again to a rich widower. " " Ah, Juliette, she is quite Parisian, but it's Vir ginie M. Rouard loves the best, and no wonder. Look, Georges, there she is walking home with poor Madame Rouard. What a stupid crushed woman she is!" The chemist sauntered to the door of his shop, and with his hands in his pocket he watched two ladies enter a great courtyard, at the end of which on the right was M. Rouard's office, and on the left lay the entrance to his house, while there was also a small garden-gate opening at once into the street.

The chemist's shop was nearly opposite to the arched entrance of the courtyard, so no wonder M. Cana took an interest in the Rouard family. Once inside the Rouards' front door, however, the village and all its inhabitants might easily be forgotten. The house was large and square, the rooms were numerous, if not very spacious, and the entrance facing the garden was approached by a flight of white stone steps leading to an imposing colonnaded portico. But the chief beauty of the Rouards' domain was to be found in the garden, which nearly surrounded the house, and was well kept and exquisitely laid out. There was a shady walk on the left-hand side bordering the lawn, and at the end were steps leading to a series of terraces. Higher up, again, was the large kitchen garden. possessing high walls covered with great front trees, and in the midst of it the eye was at once attracted by the fountain.

From this spot one had a lovely view of the beautiful river Oise and of the blue distance beyond. Higher still, above the kitchen garden came the private wood of the owner of the stone quarry, for the whole hillside had been utilized to make this garden lovely; and Lucien Rouard, in his leisure moments, laid out winding paths in the coppice, otherwise leaving Nature to go her own sweet will. If beautiful walks can satisfy all cravings, M. Rouard was not wrong when he said that his daughters could want no better walks than they could get in their own property. M. Rouard's word was law, so that unless Virginie dragged her quiet meek mother to church or to see some sick person, she was nearly as invisible to the gossiping world as was the Countess herself. The present Madame Rouard was a second wife: when one has said that she was an obedient spouse and that she was a devoted mother, one has gone far in describing her virtues ; besides this, she was dreadfully afraid of her husband, but she was a kind mother to Lucien, her stepson, and to the widow Juliette Lefort, whose one wish was to go back to dear Paris, but who was too weak in character to resist the strong will of her father.

Juliette had been married by him to an architect in Paris ; M. Lefort had accepted the hand of Juliette because she had money, and for no other reason whatever; and it was said he had often regretted the step, for Juliette, once emancipated from her father, had displayed inordinate vanity and a great talent for spending money, but other wise, if this is not irony, she was harmless. When her husband was suddenly killed by the falling of some woodwork, Juliette had an attack of nerves and fainted ; when she regained consciousness she hugged her little baby girl, Ida, almost to suffo cation, and through her tears she called her a desolate orphan ; but after that, Madame Lefort was glad to see her father, who in few words told her to pack up her personal belongings, go back to his house at Tribes, and that he would manage all matters of business then for her.

Juliette Lefort had been ever since at her father's house and easily slipped back into her place as elder daughter, quite glad to tyrannize over her stepmother, and to exhibit little jealousies about Virginie when M. Rouard was absent, though petting her when he was present, because every one knew that Virginie was her father's darling, and that in his eyes she had not her equal in beauty. However, Juliette at the bottom of her heart did not envy this position; her father was always kind and just to her and that was all she wanted, for to those he loved M. Rouard was doubly a tyrant. Virginie had been brought up by her mother to obey her father implicitly, and as yet nothing had arisen to disturb her perfect trust in him ; but the quiet meek mother, who silently studied her only child, knew well enough that Virginie was her father's daughter in character as well as by birth, for with much of her mother's outward gentleness the girl possessed a strong, firm will.

It was this knowledge that made Madame Rouard so continually impress on Virginie the command ment, "Honour thy father and thy mother;" she would even add the explanation, " especially thy father, Virginie, my darling." Virginie had only been to the post with her mother when M. Cana saw her re-enter her home. It was just because M. Rouard did not much like his family being seen down the village, that his younger daughter especially enjoyed occasional strolls outside the paternal acres ; but she dearly loved her home and the beautiful garden, and the wooded slopes, and the wild piece of ground reaching right up to the top of the hill, where a still more extensive view could be had of the valley of the Oise, a view which seemed to speak to her of a big ger world beyond her own. " Do you know, little mother, " said Virginie, as the two stood on the steps leading to the garden, her shady hat thrown back and hanging round her neck, " that I sometimes wish father would let me know the village people more — why, my aunt Noemi cannot go down the street without having to stop every two minutes to talk to her friends, whilst when we walk down they only look at us as if we came from another world."

Virginie's aunt Noemi was Madame Jolyet, who was a very homely person compared to the Rouards. " Your aunt has always been like that, Virginie, but your father is very particular about you. It does not do for young girls to be seen running about like wild people ; be satisfied, child, with this lovely garden. Your father has ordered a little summer-house to be built in our wood, you will like that. Now, ma chere, go and pick some straw-berries for dinner; the gardeners are busy up above, they will taste all the sweeter for your picking. " Virginie needed no second bidding, taking down her garden-basket from a peg in the hall she bounded away across the lawn, and as she ran lightly up some grass steps leading to one of the terraces, her mother watched her with one of those deep mother-gazes which girls of seventeen do not understand.

How pretty Virginie looked, so grace ful, so like a young fawn with her large soft eyes of dark blue shaded with brown lashes! how beautiful were the curves of her head and the round contour which hid its firmness under the soft lines of youth ! Virginie had more than " la beaute du diable." " If she were more like me ! " sighed Madame Rouard, whose grey hair and meek quiet expression made her look much older than she was; " but no, I see it plainly, Virginie has her father's will ; if it were possible not to rouse it then I should be happy. She must marry a good man who will love her, but my husband does not care about that, he wishes Virginie to meet with her equal in money. Money ! what does that do for one ? I had money and it did not make me happier. Virginie, my darling, my darling, remain a child as long as possible, that is all I wish.

" But the monologue of a mother is often more beauti tiful than fruitful. Virginie by this time had reached the fountain, which was not now playing. The June afternoon was soft and warm, the sun was shedding amber lights over the distance, and everything, so a poet would have thought, breathed of happiness and joy ; but M. Rouard, who ruled the destiny of his household, had nothing to do with poets. Virginie sat down on a rustic seat and forgot the straw berries hi her dream of life. She bent a little forward, and saw her own reflection in the water and laughed at it, as if she were greeting a friend. "I wonder what the future will give me," she thought. "I am so happy now, how can I be happier? and yet I feel I want something. I wonder what it is ? I wish I might have some of my schoolfellows here, but father does not like stran gers.

How wonderful he is, how he works ! if he says something shall be it always comes to pass. I don't believe any one else has such a father, and then I have Lucien and Juliette — yes, I love them both, but I should like more liberty. I wish I might go about the village and — there I am indul ging in my worst sin, as mother calls it, wishing for the impossible, and yet there is nothing that I have asked my father to give me which he has refused. He procured me those delightful music lessons in Paris last month; M. Pallisser encou raged me — how I love him! Mother says my playing has improved since I went to him. Juliette says it is nothing compared to people she knows in Paris, but that is for fear I should be vain! Am I vain? A little about my music, I think, and about having such a father, such a home, and, so Juliette says, about being pretty — am I?

" Virginie bent again over the fountain and exam ined the reflection more closely, but every now and then a slight breeze troubled the water, and little wavelets crossed the reflected face. Virginie threw off her hat, she liked to see the coronet of golden brown plaits in the water, they were so pretty. But all at once a hearty laugh made her start up and blush deeply. Her father stood beside her. How terrible to be caught looking at yourself! In appearance M. Rouard was tall, strongly built, his upright figure gave one a feeling of physical strength, just as his face at once indicated his strength of character and firmness of will, fair in colouring though that face was. His wavy light brown beard, his auburn hair and blue eyes, might have made some people imagine him to be an easy-tempered individual; but they would soon have found out their mistake, and there would have been a revulsion of feeling, for nothing makes human beings so distrustful of their fellow-creatures as finding that their outward appearance of softness contradicts their real character.

The same fear is experienced if an enemy is suddenly discovered by us to be in close proximity when we fancied no danger was to be feared. There were many in Tribes who knew well enough that M. Rouard's almost benign-looking countenance could become terrible in its anger. " That made a very pretty picture, " laughed M. Rouard, putting his arm round his beautiful daughter. " Mademoiselle was admiring herself in the new fountain. Do you think I had it made on purpose for that, petite coquette?" Virginie was almost angry at being so much misunderstood by her father, so she exclaimed : "I was not admiring myself, at least " "Come, come; I thought you never told fibs." " I admired the picture I saw, " said poor Vir ginie, blushing; "but one does look nicer in a reflection than " " Than in reality !

Good, and what were thy thoughts? Did all the young ladies in the pension admire themselves in fountains?" Virginie had been allowed to go to school for a few years, but it had been a very select and strictly supervised establishment. M. Rouard had a deep-seated idea that schools were dangerous places, and that the beautiful young ladies in them were in danger of being carried away by lovers. His injunctions to the schoolmistress, therefore, had been very strict. Virginie was never to see a strange man ; but, as Madame had quite as strict notions as M. Rouard, there was no need of cautioning her. "In the pension we had our lessons, pere, so we had no time to look into fountains ; besides there were none. Do not tease me about this; tell me what you have been doing. I did not expect you here at this time of the day."

" I had just come to see the summer-house, and how the men were getting on with it; before that I was at the north quarry ; there is a gallery there, which is a little unsafe, and I was looking to it. Lucien has telegraphed from Paris that he has accepted a large contract; it is a good stroke of business. There— will that satisfy your inquiring mind?" "And you are glad, father?" Virginie looked up into her father's face with such a new womanly expression of sympathy, that M. Rouard stooped down and kissed her. " Glad, of course I am ; it will double thy dot, child ! And that is a subject which all young ladies like to hear about. " Virginie's face flushed again, she might have been a tinted pink-and-white peony, so exquisite was the blush. A dot meant a husband, and such a subject seemed almost too grave and important to be spoken of in that light tone.

She said nothing,. and her father seemed to read her thoughts. " So you do not want a husband ? " he said,. scanning her face. His words were by no means chance words, they were very deliberate, though Virginie did not guess this. "I am very happy, pere, very; but of course every girl does think about her future husband. Juliette tells me she thought a great deal about hers before she married poor Charles Lefort." " Oh, Juliette was ready for the first-comer, but you are so difficile, Virginie." " Am I, I did not know it, " and Virginie laughed ; " but really I have never had the chance of being particular, have I?" -'> "You'll trust your father, I know — well, well, the futur will have a charming wife." "He will love me. won't he, ph'e?" said Virgi nie, with that simplicity which often marks out original minds before life has made too great an impression on them.

" Of course ; how could he help it ? " The girl put her arm in her father's, and said softly, almost under her breath : "And I, I shall love him with all my heart."

Chapter II. An Old Chateau

It only needed ten minutes' walk to take you from M. Rouard's domain to the Comte de Pomaret's park, and here one seemed to breathe, as it were, quite another atmosphere than on the newly made terraces belonging to the owner of the quarries. The old trees in the park as well as the weather beaten chateau told the story of long descent, but even the walks of the untrimmed shrubberies spoke of the poverty of their master; the very statues, broken and moss-covered, had a dejected look, as if aware that once they had belonged to a family whose riches were as much famed as was its nobility. Under the great gateway, close by the church, the rare visitor passed into a large quadrangle, in the midst of which stood a really remarkable fine statue of Joan of Arc, placed there by some former Count, whose cousin had so far forgotten his rank as to become a famous sculptor.

He had evidently had one of his best inspirations when he had con ceived the female warrior and hewn her out from the virgin stone. The face was calm and placid, and instead of being represented as eagerly urging on the soldiers of her army, the Maid with down cast eyes was leaning on her sword. Her eyes were fixed on its cross-hilt as if to intimate that it was through her faith that she had obtained the victory. The great hall of the chiiteau was approached on the side facing the gateway by a flight of stately steps, and from thence one immediately entered a beautiful chamber. All the furniture was made of ancient black carved oak. Swords and stags' horns, and curiosities from foreign parts, were hung on the walls, interspersed here and there with old family pictures, representing ladies and gentlemen in Court dress.

The De Pomarets had in old days been famous for their literary men as well as for their courtiers, and in the chateau library there was a row of handsomely bound books, written by the famous Abbe de Pomaret, whose witty if not very moral journal had made him a name in the world of letters. But these books were forgiven in the religious world in consideration of the dozen volumes sermons by another Abbe de Pomaret, dedicated to Louis XIV., and full of deep and beautiful thoughts carefully wrapped up in well-turned VIRGINIE'S HUSBAND. flatteries. Very rare books lay on their shelves, but except Armand de Pomaret few persons in the chateau ever disturbed them, for the Countess had no time for reading, and Maurice much pre ferred the yellow paper books of modern authors. It would take too long to describe the many rooms of the castle, or to pay minute attention to the many pictures of past Counts and Count esses that now adorned or disfigured the walls.

Some were represented leaning on the very same chairs still placed stiffly in the hall and dining room, whilst other famous De Pomarets stood up straight and solemn on their canvas without the help of any picturesque table or chair. The state drawing room was, in spite of its valuable pictures, a chilly looking place. Once all the furniture had been white and gold; now, however, there was a dingy lovely look about the white, and a tarnished appearance in the gold ; yet in spite ofthe very evident poverty of the owners, nothing could take away the air of aged nobility on the face of everything about the chateau. Future prosperity, if it ever came, might furbish up much that was tumbling to pieces, but it could not add more dignity than the place now possessed, for dignity depends on what is indescribable, and cannot be catalogued.

Up a flight of broad stairs one had to go to reach Madame's morning-room, where she o-ave orders to Toinette, once her maid, but now married to Jean-Marie Gautier, who was master of all the ceremonies and general steward to the Count. Jean- Marie lived in the porter's lodge just under the arch, and was not above doing any and every sort of work, whilst Toinette managed the servants, few in number, when compared with richer house holds ; a young valet for Monsieur, a serving maid for Madame, and only a cook and Toinette for all the rest of the work, with Jean-Marie to help. Jean-Marie had a soul above his vocation, he admired art and all the pictures in the chateau as much as if they had been his own ancestors ; indeed, he was always ready to turn his hand to giving coats of paint and varnish, with this coat he was glad, indeed, to clothe any old thing he could find, if he could get Monsieur's leave, of course.