The Lilies of the Valley, Or, "I Want it by Such a Day": And The House of Penarvan

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Chapter I

In the comfortably furnished drawing-room of a :hateau in the north of France, about fifty years ago, ;wo young girls were sitting one morning, with their arm-chairs drawn close to a blazing wood fire, each ivith a screen in her hand, protecting their pretty faces, md a piece of fancy work lying idly on their knees, rhey were engaged in an eager conversation, carried on in a low voice so as not to reach the ears of the Chanoinesse de Mirecourt, an elderly lady, aunt to Blanche de St. Valery, the mistress of this chateau and of a large fortune, inherited from her parents, whom she had lost in childhood. The old countess was seated at her embroidery-frame, near a window overlooking a terrace full of flower-beds, on which the autumnal sun was shining brightly. A cold easterly wind, however, had been made an excuse by the young ladies for remaining at home and spending the morning in discussing a particularly interesting subject. They had been at school together at Amiens^ ^.y^jI Jeanne de Tourville was on a v'lsil \,o \iex Ixv^^x^

Blanche, who had lately come of age, and was abou two years older than Jeanne. Her guardian, the Baroi d'Ossouville, lived in Paris, and she generally spent th< winters at his house and the rest of the year at her owi country place with her aunt, who exercised very littL control over her. Fortunately she had good principles an( good dispositions. Though the inevitable result of hav ing always had her own way had made the young heires wilful and heedless, she had many good and amiabL qualities, and was a great favourite with everybodj from her aristocratic neighbours down to the peasant; of the adjoining villages. She had high ideas of dut> but did not always apply them to the minor occui rences of life. Jeanne had been her greatest frien< and worshipping admirer at school, and had continuec so ever since.

On the occasion of his ward's coming of age, Wi d'Ossouville, who detested the country, had made th effort of spending a few days at her house, partly t do honour to the young chatelaine, partly to rende her an account of his management of her fortune, an< to advise her as to the future direction of her affairs This, had led him to impress upon her strongly tb imperative necessity of soon making up her mind oi the important question of marriage. He had laid be fore her a list of suitors, which comprehended gentle men who had seen and admired her in Paris, other — her neighbours in the country — ^\io\s\ "^^ V;

THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY. Q

known all her life, and some who had never set eyes upon her, but whose wealth and titles made them very desirable matches for a young lady possessed of two hundred thousand francs a year, besides a chateau and landed estates of no inconsiderable value. He frankly told her that he was growing old, and had too many affairs of his own to be able long to continue to attend to hers; that Madame la Chanoinesse, though she could manage a household, had not much head for business, and, this being the case, that she must really accept a husband, and that with as little delay as possible.

It was on this subject that Jeanne and herself were talking, with their feet on the fender and their faces close to each other. It had been led up to by a discussion as to their dress on the following day — a very exciting one indeed in the midst of the sameness of country life. Marie de Rochemaure — another of their Amiens schoolfellows — was going to be married, and there was a great gathering of relations and friends at her father's house for the happy occasion. The wedding was to take place in the morning at the parish church, and there were to be festivities in the park during the afternoon and a ball at the chateau in the evening. Blanche had not yet made up her mind as to her dress, which Jeanne thought very odd — for she had settled everything about her own at lea^t ^ ^^'tV. ^j^ — but then she bad not so many govms, Vo OcvSi^^'?*^ ^^^ lO THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY.

of, and not so many things to think about as Blanche. She said so, and Blanche answered —

"Yes, I have many anxieties. If you only knew how tiresome M. d'Ossouville is about my marrying! He leaves me no peace on the subject. He actually drew up a list of 'candidates for the honour of my hand,' as he calls them in his old-fashioned style. You may look at it if you like." And she went and took out of a drawer a paper which she gave to Jeanne.

"And which of these gentlemen do you think you will accept?" Jeanne asked, not without a little trepidation; for in this list was the name of the Vicomte du Plessy, whom she happened to know her own parents had thought of as a desirable match for herself, and she did not dislike M. de Plessy — this being the greatest length a French young lady will go to when speaking of a person for whom she may nevertheless feel a very decided preference.

"Not one of them will I marry," Blanche answered.

"Really!" Jeanne said, with a sigh of relief "Not the Comte Andre de Furnival, or Charles de St. Amand, or the Marquis de Bellecourt, or the Vicomte de Plessy?"

"No. If I was really obliged to marry one of them, why I suppose M. de Plessy would be the most endurable,"

THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY. I I

This made Jeanne's heart sink within her. Blanche might, after all, choose as at least second-best, the object of her romantic predilection.

"He is good, and I like him very much," Blanche said; "but he is not the sort of man I should wish to marry."

Then Jeanne thought she would put a bold question.

"Have you ever seen, I wonder, any one who would be the sort of person you would like to marry?"

Blanche hesitated a little, moved the logs about, and then with an effort said —

"Well, I do not mind telling you that there is a person I could like better than any one else, one, in fact, whom I do like very much."

"Oh, please tell me who it is?"

"His name is Paul de Nerval. He is a naval officer. I always had a fancy for sailors; and he is unlike other people, very clever and enthusiastic, and fond of poetry and music. I met him very often at Paris in the winter, and I thought him charming."

"Have you spoken of him to your guardian, or to your aunt?"

"No; of course not. Do you suppose I should tell them I wish to marry a man who has not proposed for me?"

"Would he be a suitable husband for you?"

*'That depends on what people caW «»\i\V2)J^^« ^-^ ^ means some one as rich as myself, then he would not do at all; for he has no fortune, nothing I think but his profession to look to. He belongs however to a noble family. He is, in fact, related to the Rochemaures. I did not know it till the other day. I happened to mention him before Marie, and she said he was her cousin, and a very promising officer. Thej have not seen him since he was a child. But he is asked to the wedding, and arrives to-night, I believe with some other relatives of theirs who are coming from Paris."

"Oh, then we shall see him to-morrow, and he wil! be at the ball. Describe him to me, Blanche."

"He is considered very handsome, but that is nol what I care about. It is his goodness, his simplicity his originality, I like. He is perhaps a. little eccentric, a little superstitious, too. Sailors, you know, are ap1 to be so. He believes in omens and presentiments."

"I should not like an eccentric husband," Jeanne said.

"Oh, no, Jeanne, I daresay not. A good sort oi common-place man, like M. de Plessy, would be youi beau-ideal."

This "shaft at random sent, found aim the archei never meant." Jeanne blushed deeply, but Blanche was too absorbed in her own thoughts to observe it.

"The difficulty is," she said, "that M. de Nerval is the last man in the world — 1 am cexl^m ol '\\. — ^\,q y^^

THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY. I3

pose to a woman for the sake of her fortune, and poor as he is, if he was ever so much in love with me he would not show it."

"But your guardian could sound him, or his family."

"M. d'Ossouville would do all he could to prevent my marrying a poor man, and besides that, I have already told you that I will never let any one but you know that I have the least preference for a man who perhaps does not care for me."

"Then you are not sure he likes you!"

"Almost, but not quite; and it is just that little word 'quite' that makes the difficulty. What I am quite certain of is, that if he were ever so much in love with me he would not declare it unless he knew I cared for him."

"And how is he ever to know it?" Jeanne asked with a puzzled look. For the private little reason of her own already mentioned, she felt a great interest in the subject; but having no inventive genius, could not suggest any way of solving the dilemma.

"Suppose," she said at last, "that some one, not your guardian, or your aunt, I, for instance, were to give Marie a hint?"

"On no account," Blanche quickly answered. "Remember, I have spoken to you in strict confidence.. Promise me that you will repeat to no oxv^ n^\v^ Wvsn^ said."

14 I'HE LILIES OF THE VALLEY.

"Of course not, Blanche, if you do not wish it," Jeanne replied, in a dejected tone of voice.

After a pause Blanche said —

"There would have been, perhaps, a way for me to give him a hint without committing myself, but there is no time for it now. Marie said she was glad he was coming to see them, for that he is going to sea again immediately, and will be absent for a long time."

"But what was the hint you thought of?"

"Oh, it was an idea that crossed my mind, but too late to carry it out. It would really have been a good plan, but it is impossible now."

"But tell me what it was."

"Well, M. de Nerval is, as I told you just now, rather poetical and fanciful, and a little superstitious. He told me one day that when his mother was dying she sent him to gather some of her favourite flowers, and when he brought them to her she said, *Paul, I have a presentiment that these flowers will be always connected with the most important moments in your life. When I was expecting your birth, your father used, every day, to give me a bouquet of them. On the day of your first Communion they ornamented the altar. You will lay them on my grave, for those which you have gathered for me to-day will not have time to f^de before I die, and now, mark my words, the woman ^ou will love and marry wiW w^ai vY^ata ot^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ consents to become your wife/ He said he had never forgotten those words, and felt sure they would come true."

"And did you ask him what flower it was?"

"Yes, but he would not tell me. He said it was his secret. However, yesterday, when I was looking at the rooms which Marie was getting ready for their expected guests, she showed me a picture of a lady sitting on a bench in a garden, with lilies of the valley on her lap. She said, *That is the portrait of Madame de Nerval, the mother of Paul de Nerval, whom you know. She had a mania for flowers, and especially a passion for lilies of the valley.' I then guessed, of course, which were the flowers he meant; and this morning it came into my head that if it had been the season for them, or if there had been time to get artificial ones from Paris, or even from Amiens, I might have trimmed my gown with lilies of the valley, or at any rate worn a bouquet of them. But it is impossible. Is it not a pity?"

"Oh, but Blanche, do you know that I think Genevieve, at Outre Champ, could make some for you in time. She would have to work all night, but I daresay she would not mind that."

"Who is Genevieve?"

"She is the eldest of two orphan girls who live in the village of Outre Champ, a few m\\e,'5» l\Qtcs. <^>\x bouse. She makes lovely artif\da\ ^owex^ iox ^ ^^^ l6 THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY.

at Amiens. She began by imitating the wild flow Rosette, her little sister, gathered in the fields; s then Madame de Lermoise, who died last year, ui to send her some from her garden and hot-hoi Genevieve has been bed-ridden for years. She s ports her sister and herself by the sale of her wc It is a great charity to employ her."

Blanche started up, rang the! bell, and went, form's sake, to ask her aunt if she wanted the carria because otherwise she and Jeanne were going to U SL long drive.

"How quickly you change your mind, my dei the Chanoinesse answered. "You said just now it \ too cold to go out."

"We are going to see a poor bed-ridden girl \^ earns her bread by making artificial flowers, and order some I want."

"Well, my dear, that is a very charitable acti< but I hope you will not stay out too long. It fidg me when you do not come home before dark."

"Oh, we shall return before five o'clock," Blanc answered; and as soon as the carriage came to door she and Jeanne, well wrapped up, drove off high spirits.

Genevieve, the flower maker, was half lying, 1: sitting in her small bed by the casement window her cottage. She was looking thin and wan; deep i spots on her cheeks, and lYie i^ec\3\\»x Xsd^taa^*^ her eyes, gave her at moments a deceptive appearance of health; inexperienced eyes would not have discerned how ill she was. All around her were flowers. Late autumnal roses and branches of fuchsias, lately introduced into the village from the neighbouring gardens, were visible through the small-paned windows. Flower-pots stood on the sill, and nosegays filled the vases on the chimney. On her bed were lying the implements of her trade, but her hands were folded and her head thrown back in a languid attitude. Tears slowly ran down her cheeks.

The one care, the one love, the one object of her heart, had always been her sister, little Rosette. Little Rosette she always called her, though the pet and darling of other days was now a tall, blooming girl of seventeen, who had been for a yeajr engaged to be married to the son of a neighbouring farmer. He was a good, steady young man, and the wedding was to have taken place at Christmas. But that bane and terror of foreign homes, the conscription, had to be drawn for first, and Jean Bartet had been unfortunate, and was doomed to a term of military service extending over three years, and he and Rosette had to wait to be married till he returned.

Rosette had cried herself to sleep the preceding night, and had not heard Genevieve's incessant racking cough, nor the sobs which now and then shook her breast. In the morning the e\dex %\s\fcx \A^ "^^ l8 THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY.

younger to go and spend the day at the farm of Jea Barters father, whose daughters had been her pk] mates since her infancy. They had extorted from tl: farmer and his managing wife a reluctant consent 1 Jean's engagement with the penniless orphan girl.

•

"Let her be happy whilst she can," Genevieve sai to herself. "These young creatures so easily forget tl future in the enjoyment of the present. But, oh, it hard to die and leave her alone, for she will have 1 go to service till Jean returns, and to live with strange is to be alone. My poor little darling! Oh, if Farm< Bartet would but buy a substitute for Jean! He sa; he can't and I know he won't. Dear me, how odd is: how the world seems divided between those wl could and won't, and those who would and can't."

At that moment a carriage stopped before the cc tage. The two young ladies, Blanche and Jeani knocked at the door of the room, and Genevieve u tered a feeble "Come in."

"How are you, Genevieve?" Jeannette kindly aske "But I need not inquire, you look so much better." deep red flush had coloured the cheeks of the invalid "I have brought you a customer — Mademoiselle c St. Valery."

"She is very welcome," Genevieve said, and opei ing a carton by her side, "Would any of these flowe suit mademoiselle?" she asked.

— no, none of ihem are what I want," Blanche said, after hastily glancing at the contents of the carton. "I suppose you have not got any lilies of the valley?"

"No, mademoiselle; I sent some in a case to Amiens last month, but I have none left."

"Well, but you can make some for me. Your flowers are quite lovely! You can make me a wreath and a bouquet for my dress, and one to wear in my corsage?"

Genevieve sighed, and said, "Yes, I think I could if mademoiselle will give me time."

The fact was that her weakness made it difficult for her to work at all except at short intervals.

"Time, my good girl!" Blanche exclaimed; "why, I must have these flowers — if not the wreath, — I could wear pearls in my hair, — but the two bouquets I must have to-morrow, or else I do not want them at all."

"I cannot make them by that time," Genevieve said in a sad manner.

"Oh, yes; I am sure you can, my good Genevieve,'* Jeannette said. "You could if you worked all night, and surely you would not mind that for once."

How little these girls knew what were Genevieve's nights; the breathless exhaustion, the deadly sweats, the faint sickness of those hours of solitary suffering.

"I could not," she again repeated, "finish them in time."

"Oh, but you really must," Blanche said; and " Jeanne added, "You do not know, Genevieve, how v much depends upon it, perhaps the happiness of two j persons, strange as it may seem to you."

Mentally, perhaps, she thought of a third person she did not allude to. But her words seemed to strike Genevieve. A sudden light gleamed in her eyes, and she asked,

"How much would you give me if I could finish those flowers for you in time?"

"An)^hing you like to name," Blanche cried out "I do not care what I pay for them. A thousand francs if you cannot promise to let me have them for less."

"I will make them for one thousand francs," Genevieve said, blushing scarlet, for she felt how extortionate she must appear. They did not know what she was selling. '.

"Very well; I accept the bargain," Blanche eagerly y cried. "I shall send a man on horseback to-mortow " ^

"Give me as much time as you can," Genevieve "I feebly said. ;;

"Let me see. Dinner will be at five; we are to

dress at the Chateau de Rochemaure. I must have

them by four; the groom will call here at three, and

he will leave with you the thousand francs in payment

/or the two bouquets, the one ioi tsi'Y ^Qrwxv o.^ \Jckfe ^s^vw^ i

THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY. 2 I

of this one," she added, taking up a cluster of roses from the carton; "and the one for my corsage as large as that one," pointing to a bouquet of jessamine. "You will be well paid, my good girl, but I do not grudge you the money. I hope it will procure you many comforts."

"It will, please God, procure me peace of mind," Genevieve said in a low voice; but Blanche and Jeanne did not hear the words; they walked about the village, talking and laughing merrily till the carriage was ready, and then drove back to the chateau in still higher spirits than when they had left it.

Genevieve sat up in her bed, placed her crucifix before her, joined her hands, and said,

"O my dear suffering Lord, give me strength to earn this sum, and then die."

She resolutely collected from her stores the necessary materials, and began her work. When Rosette came home, weary and dejected, she knelt down by her sister's bedside, and they said their night prayers together.

"You are in a burning fever," Rosette exclaimed, as she wished her sister good-night, and kissed her cheek.

"Do not blow out the candle," Genevieve said.

"But you are not going to woik b.o^1'^ ''I do not like to be in the daik vAvets. \ c^xccvo^ sleep, and for this once I must be extravagant, and waste a candle. Go to sleep, little sister."

And the little sister did sleep soundly all the night, whilst the elder sister, with every nerve aching and a weary and sick exhaustion, which increased almost to agony towards morning, went on slowly making the lilies of the valley, and praying for strength not to faint till they were finished.

Before Blanche's messenger arrived, the last sprig was completed. She had again sent Rosette out of the way on some pretext, and when the groom on horseback appeared, bringing with him an envelope containing notes to the amount of one thousand francs, she gave him a carton, and said,

"Tell Mademoiselle de St. Valery that I thank her with all my heart." Then she glanced at the little image of the Blessed Virgin in the recess near the chimney, wrote on a slip of paper the words, "For Jean's substitute," inserted it in the envelope containing the notes, and laid it under her pillow. This done, she closed her eyes and rested.

THE LnjES OF THE VALLEY. 2^

Chapter II

The wedding at the Chateau de Rochemaure had aken place. The bright autumnal sun emerging from I temporary mist shone on the wedding party, the gay rain of bridesmaids including Blanche de St. Valery md Jeanne de Tourville, the groups of peasants asembled at the church door to witness the marriage of he young lady they had seen since her childhood in he banc du seigneur ^ and the long line of carriages vhich had conveyed back to the Chateau the friends md guests of M. le Comte. It gilded with its departng rays the festivities which took place in the park, vhere, after saluting the departing bride, the tenants lad gathered round large tables and done ample ustice to the abundant good cheer provided for them.

Blanche had spent many happy hours during that lay, for Paul de Nerval had met her with evident )leasure and evident emotion, and they had foimd requent opportunities for conversation, for he had sat )y her at the dSjeuner, and in company with some of heir mutual friends had strolled in the gardens, and /hen the banquet and sports in the fields had begun, hey found themselves amongst tVie \ooVet^-otv^ ^x^^ \ey had talked of Marie's marriage aiA NJa& %^^^ qualities of her husband, and this had led to an interesting discussion as to what constitutes the greatest happiness in wedded life, whether similarity of character and tastes, or a dissimilarity, which, when joined to affection and mutual esteem and confidence, sometimes increases instead of diminishing the close union of hearts which should exist between husband and wife.

Jeanne had also spent an agreeable day, for the Vicomte de Plessy had been very attentive to her. Whether this was because she was Blanche's friend, and that whenever he had tried to talk to Blanche he had found M. de Nerval by her side, and fallen back on her favourite companion as the next best object of his devotion for the day, or that he thought of falling back upon her for good and all as his future wife in case Mademoiselle de St. Valery was not to be had, remained to be seen.

When the two girls went up to the room where they were to dress for dinner and the ball, they were of one mind as to the delightful day they had spent and the anticipated enjoyment of the evening that was to follow. On the dressing-table was a white handbox, on which Blanche's eyes rested with exultation. Her maid fastened one of the bouquets of lilies to her gown, and Jeanne placed the olhet on her breast. She thought her friend had nevei YooV^^ ^o ^^^vq ^x \i^^\x

SO well dressed, and she could not help saying so. Blanche sent her maid away and said,

"Am I doing a very strange thing, Jeanne? After all, there can be nothing more natural than that I should wear lilies of the valley; it is only my own consciousness that makes me feel as if I was doing a forward thing. He is not aware that I know his secret"

"Of course not," Jeanne answered. "If you keep your own counsel he need never know it"

She felt a comfortable conviction that Blanche would not keep her own counsel.

Any one who had observed Mademoiselle de St. Valer/s face as she entered the drawing-room with her aunt, who had been dressing in another room, and Jeanne, who was also under the chaperonage of the Chanoinesse, must have been struck by the varying expression of her countenance and the emotion it revealed. She kept watching the door, and when Paul came in, she watched for the moment when he would look towards her and notice her dress. When he did so, the agitation in his face was still more unmistakeable than in hers. He turned pale and then red, and during the whole time of dinner, from his comer of the table, he kept glancing at those white flowers so full for him of sad reminiscences atvi a^\.^JLYcv%\sKs^^^. His answers to the remarks of the PtWeX'^ -^Vl^, ^\v^^«v he had had the honour of conducting to the dining-room, were somewhat incoherent.

It was not till dancing began that he could approach Mademoiselle de St. Valery. He had engaged her in the morning for the first quadrille, but neither of them had thought of securing a vis-d-vzs, and after standing up for a moment side by side in the ball-room, they went into a drawing-room, where the Chanoinesse and some other elderly ladies and gentlemen were playing at whist, and they seated themselves on a sofa near the door. For some instants they did not speak, and then he said in a voice broken with emotion,

"Is there any meaning in your wearing these lilies of the valley?"

She blushed deeply, and did not answer.

"There is a meaning in it," he said.

She looked the "yes" she did not utter. Then he asked another question, and received a favourable answer. Upon that followed an hour. of that strange and short-lived happiness which most people have known something of at some moment of their lives, whether followed by a life-time of real happiness or by a long and bitter disenchantment. But that it is sweet at the time no one will deny, provided the affection be pure and earnest on both sides, and such was the case with the young heiress aivd \Y"et ^ewoiles^ lover, H'Ao would have died ratbex tJaan owa.\v\^V>N^ "^^^^

THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY. I']

felt sure that she would be unhappy if he did not do so.

Whilst they were thus sitting side by side speaking of the bright future before them, the Cur^ of the village, in whose parish Blanche's chateau was also situated, entered the room with a hiuried step. She sprang up to stop the good Abb^, for she wanted to introduce Paul to her dear old friend.

"My child, do not detain me now," he said. "I have had a sick call, and am going to ask M. le Comte to order me a conveyance. Whilst it is getting ready I will speak to you."

He came back in a moment; she presented to him M. de Nerval, and then asked,

"Have you far to go, M. TAbb^?"

"Yes; several miles," he answered. "It is not one of my own parishioners who has sent for me. My confrere at Outre Champ happens to be absent, and Genevieve the flower-maker is dying."

Blanche started, and said,

"I saw her yesterday; I did not know she was so iU."

"Her life," the Abb^ answered, "has hung on a thread for several weeks. It was like a flickering candle, which the least breath would extinguish. The boy who came to fetch me says l\ia\. ^'^ \qQ^<t^ iSs. Jast night to Unish some flowers a \ady \^3LtA&^ ^^^ "^^ ball. It was a very cold one, and this seems to hav< been a death-blow to her."