"Thirteen!" exclaimed the countess; "unfortunate child!"
"Unfortunate? no.This passion will save her."
"From what?" asked Madame de Montcornet.
"From the fate which overtakes nearly all the girls of her age in these parts.Since I have taught her cleanliness she is much less ugly than she was; in fact, there is something odd and wild about her which attracts men.She is so changed that you would hardly recognize her.
The son of that infamous innkeeper of the Grand-I-Vert, Nicolas, the worst fellow in the whole district, wants her; he hunts her like game.
Though I can't believe that Monsieur Rigou, who changes his servant-
girls every year or two is persecuting such a little fright, it is quite certain that Nicolas Tonsard is.Justin told me so.It would be a dreadful fate, for the people of this valley actually live like beasts; but Justin and our two servants and I watch her carefully.
Therefore don't be uneasy, madame; she never goes out alone except in broad daylight, and then only as far as the gate of Conches.If by chance she fell into an ambush, her feeling for Justin would give her strength and wit to escape; for all women who have a preference in their hearts can resist a man they hate."
"It was about her that I came," said the countess, "and I little thought my visit could be so useful to you.That child, you know, can't remain thirteen; and she will probably grow better-looking."
"Oh, madame," replied Olympe, smiling, "I am quite sure of Justin.
What a man! what a heart!-- If you only knew what a depth of gratitude he feels for his general, to whom, he says, he owes his happiness.He is only too devoted; he would risk his life for him here, as he would on the field of battle, and he forgets sometimes that he will one day be father of a family."
"Ah! I once regretted losing you," said the countess, with a glance that made Olympe blush; "but I regret it no longer, for I see you happy.What a sublime and noble thing is married love!" she added, speaking out the thought she had not dared express before the abbe.
Virginie de Troisville dropped into a revery, and Madame Michaud kept silence.
"Well, at least the girl is honest, is she not?" said the countess, as if waking from a dream.
"As honest as I am myself, madame."
"Discreet?"
"As the grave."
"Grateful?"
"Ah! madame; she has moments of humility and gentleness towards me which seem to show an angelic nature.She will kiss my hands and say the most upsetting things.'Can we die of love?' she asked me yesterday.'Why do you ask me that?' I said.'I want to know if love is a disease.'"
"Did she really say that?"
"If I could remember her exact words I would tell you a great deal more," replied Olympe; "she appears to know much more than I do."
"Do you think, my dear, that she could take your place in my service.
I can't do without an Olympe," said the countess, smiling in a rather sad way.
"Not yet, madame,--she is too young; but in two years' time, yes.If it becomes necessary that she should go away from here I will let you know.She ought to be educated, and she knows nothing of the world.
Her grandfather, Pere Niseron, is a man who would let his throat be cut sooner than tell a lie; he would die of hunger in a baker's shop;
he has the strength of his opinions, and the girl was brought up to all such principles.La Pechina would consider herself your equal; for the old man has made her, as he says, a republican,--just as Pere Fourchon has made Mouche a bohemian.As for me, I laugh at such ideas, but you might be displeased.She would revere you as her benefactress, but never as her superior.It can't be otherwise; she is wild and free like the swallows--her mother's blood counts for a good deal in what she is."
"Who was her mother?"
"Doesn't madame know the story?" said Olympe."Well, the son of the old sexton at Blangy, a splendid fellow, so the people about here tell me, was drafted at the great conscription.In 1809 young Niseron was still only an artilleryman, in a corps d'armee stationed in Illyria and Dalmatia when it received sudden orders to advance through Hungary and cut off the retreat of the Austrian army in case the Emperor won the battle of Wagram.Michaud told me all about Dalmatia, for he was there.Niseron, being so handsome a man, captivated a Montenegrin girl of Zahara among the mountains, who was not averse to the French garrison.This lost her the good-will of her compatriots, and life in her own town became impossible after the departure of the French.Zena Kropoli, called in derision the Frenchwoman, followed the artillery, and came to France after the peace.Auguste Niseron asked permission to marry her; but the poor woman died at Vincennes in January, 1810, after giving birth to a daughter, our Genevieve.The papers necessary to make the marriage legal arrived a few days later.Auguste Niseron then wrote to his father to come and take the child, with a wetnurse he had got from its own country; and it was lucky he did, for he was killed soon after by the bursting of a shell at Montereau.Registered by the name of Genevieve and baptized at Soulanges, the little Dalmatian was taken under the protection of Mademoiselle Laguerre, who was touched by her story.It seems as if it were the destiny of the child to be taken care of by the owners of Les Aigues! Pere Niseron obtained its clothes, and now and then some help in money from Mademoiselle."
The countess and Olympe were just then standing before a window from which they could see Michaud approaching the abbe and Blondet, who were walking up and down the wide, semi-circular gravelled space which repeated on the park side of the pavilion the exterior half-moon; they were conversing earnestly.
"Where is she?" said the countess; "you make me anxious to see her."
"She is gone to carry milk to Mademoiselle Gaillard at the gate of Conches; she will soon be back, for it is more than an hour since she started."
"Well, I'll go and meet her with those gentlemen," said Madame de Montcornet, going downstairs.
