Page 13 of Popular Tales

  CAROLINE:

  OR, THE EFFECTS OF A MISFORTUNE.

  "How delighted I am that Robert is gone!" exclaimed Caroline deManzay, as she entered her mother's room; "I never knew anybody sodisagreeable!"

  "What!" said Madame de Manzay, "not even Denis?"

  "Oh! that is quite different; Denis is teazing and troublesome, meddleswith everything, and is angry when prevented; he jeers and laughs atone, and becomes passionate and insulting when contradicted; but thenhe is a mere child, and one overlooks it."

  "You did not seem very ready to do so: you were always quarrelling, andcould say very insulting things yourself sometimes."

  "For all that I like him better than Robert."

  "Yet Robert never teazed you; he is very reasonable."

  "To be sure he is; he is twenty years old: and how proud he is! Becausehe is five years older than I am he treats me like a little girl, andto-day he told me I was a spoiled child."

  "Robert is not the first person who has said that, my dear; but forwhat reason did he pay you this compliment?"

  "It was because Denis, who always takes delight in seeing me vexed,came to tell me, with an air of triumph, that when we took him andRobert to the village, we were to go by the road which I do not like. Isaid we were not to go that way; he asserted that we were, because hehad heard my father give orders to his forester to wait for him at thegreen-gate, that he might see on his way back the fir-trees which areto be cut. Then I declared that I would not go out at all, and Robertlaughed at me, and insisted that if my father chose it I should beobliged to go, and to take the road he wished. All this made me angry,and when papa came up I teazed him so, till he said we should go theway I liked best, and that he would look at the fir-trees another time.'Well,' said I to Robert, when my father was at a little distance,'it is my turn to laugh at you now;' 'I would recommend you not,' hereplied, very contemptuously, 'there is no glory in being a spoiledchild, and in abusing indulgence,' and then he turned his back on me.Oh! I detest him! So when he got into the carriage I would not saygood-bye, and when he came up to kiss me, I turned my back upon him inmy turn."

  "And did that appear to grieve him?"

  "He did not care in the least; he began to laugh, and said, 'Adieu,Caroline, try to become a little more reasonable, you need it greatly.'"

  "And how did you part with Denis?"

  "Oh, very well, for I spoke to him."

  "What did you say to him?"

  "I told him I was delighted that he was going away, because he wasso rude; and he replied, that he was quite as glad, because I was sowilful and captious. In fact, I am not at all fond of Denis, either,and it is a great relief to be rid of him. It will be a long time, willit not, before we see him again?"

  "Much too long; his guardian thinks of going to America, and takingDenis with him. God only knows when he will come back."

  "Oh! I shall have quite enough of him; he is so insufferable! AndRobert?"

  "He is going on his travels for four or five years."

  "That is a great blessing."

  "But, my dear child, you should reflect that Robert is your father'snephew, and that Denis is my poor sister's son; they are both of themyour nearest relatives, and ought to be your best friends."

  "Fine friends, indeed! the one teazes me, and the other despises me."

  "I allow that Denis is fond of teazing, and that Robert is scornful,but they will out-grow that."

  "No, that they won't."

  "What! do you, then, really think that Denis, at twenty years old, willspoil your drawing, or blow out your candle?"

  "He will do something as tiresome; and even if he should improve,Robert will always remain the same."

  "I hope not; he will gain with years the gentleness in which he isdeficient. But, even supposing he should not change, you yourself willalter, and when you are no longer a spoiled child, he will not call yousuch."

  "I don't know that; he is so unamiable. However, it is all the same tome; I do not care for his opinion."

  "So I perceive, my dear," said her mother, smiling, "you speak of it socalmly."

  At this moment, Caroline heard her father calling her, and ran outto join him; she was always happy to be his companion, and respondedwith all her heart to the passionate affection which he showed her.Caroline was the only survivor of Monsieur and Madame de Manzay's eightdaughters, and during her infancy her health had been so delicate,as to cause them the greatest anxiety. Continually agitated by thefear of losing her, their only thought had been to preserve theirtreasure: they trembled lest the slightest opposition should endangerher fragile existence, or cast a cloud over a life which might have soshort a duration. For some years past, these terrible apprehensions hadceased, but Caroline had been so long accustomed to have her own way,that the effect survived the cause. She was accustomed to no other rulethan her caprice, or the prompting of a disposition naturally uprightand generous. When her fancies or her self-love did not interfere,she was ready to do everything to oblige, and diffused around her allthe cheerfulness natural to her age: but if it at all crossed in herwishes, nothing could be obtained from her, and even her kindnessof heart was insufficient to conquer her temper. In such unhappymoments, which were but too frequent, she would answer her mother withpetulance, refuse to walk with her father, or sing him the airs heloved, and behave roughly to her little brother, whom she neverthelessloved with all her heart, and considered almost as her own child. Beingten years old, when Stephen was born, she had never thought of him as arival, but as a _protege_. She was habitually kind and indulgent, andwould spend whole hours in building card-houses for him, or in tellinghim stories. It is true she did not like him to amuse himself withothers: as she could not appropriate him to herself, like his parents,she devoted herself to him; but she did appropriate him, in fact, andone of the principal causes of her dissatisfaction with Denis was, thatStephen preferred his stories to hers, and his noisy games to the moretranquil pleasures procured him by his sister.

  "What does it signify, if Stephen enjoys himself better with Denis thanwith you?" said Robert to her one day.

  "It displeases me."

  "But why?"

  "Because he is so whimsical; a week ago he was interrupting meperpetually, to make me tell him over and over again the story of theWonderful Cat, and now, when I call him on purpose, he says it wearieshim."

  "Naturally enough, when you propose telling it to him at the very timethat Denis is just in the finest part of a story about robbers orbattles."

  "And twenty times have I begged Denis not to tell him any more suchstories: but he does not care for a word that is said to him."

  "Stephen would be very sorry if he left off, I can assure you: look howattentive he is."

  "Yes, and what am I to do while Stephen is listening to Denis?"

  "You might finish the drawing which your father asked for this morning,and which, as you said, you had not time to complete."

  "Indeed I shall not, it is too tiresome; and if anything more is saidabout it, I will tear it to pieces."

  "Surely not, you are not silly enough to do that."

  "And why then should I be silly to tear this drawing? It is my own, Ihope."

  "A fine reason truly! The chateau yonder is mine also. What would yousay if I were to burn it down?"

  "There is no resemblance in the two cases."

  "In fact, I should be a madman, and you merely a child."

  "A child! Do you know that I am fifteen?"

  "So they say, but I cannot believe it."

  "Why not? I am taller than the gardener's daughter, who is sixteen."

  "Yes; but you are not as reasonable as Stephen, who is only five."

  "And, how not, pray?"

  "Come, do not be angry; you are, perhaps, about as much so, but that isall I can grant you. Now do not put yourself in a passion, that willnot frighten me; you cannot tear me to pieces like your drawings.Adieu, make yourself happy: I am going to carry off Denis to hunt, soyou may tell Ste
phen the story of the Wonderful Cat as many times asyou please."

  It was by conversations like these that Robert had drawn upon himselfthe animadversions of Caroline. Unaccustomed to any opposition to herwishes, she could not forgive the harsh manner in which her cousincontradicted her, and, spoiled as she was by continual marks ofaffection, she was astonished at the contemptuous disapprobation whichshe had to encounter from one, whose good opinion she was desirous ofobtaining. Never had she heard the name of Robert de Puivaux mentionedwithout eulogium. He had completed his studies most successfully, andhad particularly distinguished himself at the Polytechnic School,which he had just left, after spending two years there, simply forinstruction. His character was extolled, his judgment esteemed, andhis understanding and acquirements were considered by all as beyondhis years; but all these advantages were effaced, in Caroline's mind,by his ungracious conduct towards herself--or, rather, they served torender it the more vexatious to her. It must be allowed that Roberthad treated her in a manner far from pleasant. Naturally serious, anddisposed to regulate his conduct on principles of reason and duty,he could not comprehend the inconsiderateness of Caroline, and theimportance which she attached to her own whims; he had no patiencein seeing everyone yield to her, and was as angry with her for theirweakness as for her own defects; he, therefore, never lost anyopportunity of showing his disapprobation and contempt: and, whollyengrossed by the unfavourable impressions with which she inspiredhim, he did not remark the good qualities which lay hidden under thispetulant exterior, and which the future would develope.

  Shortly after the departure of Robert and Denis, Madame de Manzay, whohad been an invalid ever since the birth of Stephen, was suddenlysnatched from her family, after a few days' illness. We will notattempt to describe this sad event: there are sorrows which can neverbe comprehended by those who have not felt them, and which it isneedless to relate to those who know them by experience. The languageof man cannot adequately express all that the soul of man is capableof feeling, and such feelings are not learned but revealed; a singlemoment--one of those moments which are equal to a whole life--canexplain more than years of reflection, and convey to the heart, whatall the knowledge of the mind would be unable to grasp.

  A week had elapsed since the death of Madame de Manzay, and her unhappyfamily were not yet roused from the first stupor of grief; their heartshad not yet recovered composure; they had not returned to their usualhabits; no one obeyed, for no one commanded; and each one, engrossedby his affliction, forgot his duties. There was neither regularity norlabour; confusion alone reigned in the desolate household. Poor littleStephen was left all day long to himself; Monsieur de Manzay wanderedabout in the park; his daughter shut herself up in her room; and no oneattempted to assist anyone else in supporting the weight of grief, bywhich each was oppressed. Caroline, as usual, was weeping in her ownapartment, when an old servant, who had been in the family from thebirth of her father, and who had just seen his master, seated, alone,in his wife's room, thinking he would like to see his daughter, went toher, and said, "Pray go, Miss Caroline, to my master. Poor gentleman!he has no one now but you."

  "And Stephen, Peter; you do not reckon him."

  "Oh! that is quite another thing, miss; master loves the dear littlefellow with all his heart, but he is not company for him; he cannottalk with him, and divert his thoughts, as you could. Oh! MissCaroline, you are the very image of my good mistress; try then toresemble her in everything. You cannot remember it, for you were tooyoung, but when my mistress lost four of her children in one year, andyou alone were left--well, miss, it was she who then consoled master.He was like one distracted, and said he felt tempted to throw himselfin the water, and the poor lady was obliged to appear perfectly calm,in order to tranquillize him. I have sometimes seen her leave mymaster's room, to go and cry, and then she would return, and urge himto submit to the will of God; she would make him walk with her, or readaloud to divert his thoughts; she would even amuse him with music: andhow he loved her in return! Oh! Miss Caroline! you had a treasure inyour mother; endeavour to be as good as she was."

  Caroline's sobs prevented her from making any reply; but she held outher hand to the aged Peter, and rose immediately to follow him to herfather. She was told that he was in the park, and repaired thither;but, absorbed in her affliction, and in the reflections suggestedby Peter's artless observations, she mistook the path, and did notperceive her error, for she went on without thinking whither her stepswere directed. For the first time in her life, perhaps, she becameaware that she had a duty to fulfil towards others, and that she wasnot placed in this world merely to be loved and indulged. She hadjust been told--"_Your father has no one but you._" It was the truth;but of what use had she been to her father, during the past week? Hadshe afforded him consolation or assistance, when, given up to herown affliction, she had scarcely bestowed a thought on his; when hehad been obliged to try and comfort her, and had sought to do so invain; when her tears and cries had shaken the resolution he found itso difficult to maintain; when she had kept out of his presence, andabandoned him at the time he most needed her? Was it thus that hermother had acted, when, struck by misfortune, she had, for the sake ofcalming her husband's despair, begun by controlling her own feelings?Yet who, more than her father, possessed a claim to her activegratitude, to her affectionate devotion? Her earliest recollectionswere associated with his kindness and tenderness. He had consecratedhis leisure to her instruction, relinquished for this purpose studiesin which he took delight, and renounced all recreations but thosewhich he could share with her; he had made her the companion of hiswalks, and allowed her to direct them as she chose. If she wished foran excursion in the neighbourhood, M. de Manzay would leave all hisoccupations to procure this pleasure for her; in a word, he neverrefused her a request, and yet her demands had not been few. And whathad she done, on her part, to requite such great affection? How had sherepaid the extreme indulgence of her parents? She loved them heartily,and they were convinced of this, but she had done nothing more: whilstthey thought only of her, she had never considered them, and had foundit perfectly natural to be continually the recipient of benefits,without ever giving anything in return. "Oh, how wicked I have been!"she exclaimed, clasping her hands; "can God ever forgive me, or mamma?"She threw herself on her knees, and, melting into tears, promised, asif still in the presence of her whom she could never again behold inthis world, to repair, by her attention to the objects of affectionshe had left, the faults which she had committed against her. Shefelt that her resolution was accepted and blessed; that the relationsof those who love each other are eternal; and that her mother waspleased with her earnest endeavours, as she would have been if stillliving. She felt that it was her soul which responded to her own, andinspired her with the love of virtue, the hope of perseverance, the joyof pardon. She arose, and returned to the chateau, eager to find herfather, and begin her new part. "Hitherto, he has devoted his life tome," said she to herself, "now, it shall be my care to live for him;"and immediately, with the ardour so natural to youth, she depictedto herself all the various ways in which she could be useful to him,and was enchanted at the idea of being at last good for something inthe world; no obstacle or difficulty presented itself to her mind, sonatural did the performance of her duty appear to her at this moment.

  On approaching the chateau, she found Stephen sitting quite alone,under a tree, crying. "What is the matter, Stephen?" she asked, kissinghim.

  "I am hungry."

  "Hungry! why what o'clock is it?"

  "It is twelve o'clock."

  "But you have already had your breakfast?"

  "No; Mary forgot to make my soup. Nobody thinks about me now that mammais gone."

  "I will think of you, my dear child. Come with me, I will get yousome breakfast, and tomorrow you shall not have to wait so long." Onentering the house, she inquired for her father. She was told that hehad come in, and had asked for her, and, after waiting some time, hadgone out again. "But he has had his breakfas
t, I suppose?"

  "No, miss, the cook has gone out."

  "Things must not go on thus," thought Caroline; "I must have some orderin the household." She perceived at this moment her father coming in,and hastened to meet him; she was eager to have some conversation withhim, and impart to him her good resolutions; but the very first was,to attend to others rather than herself, and she therefore sacrificedto Stephen's appetite her desire of communicating to her father hernew projects. After breakfast, M. de Manzay was going towards hiswife's sitting-room, where he passed all the time which he spentin-doors. Caroline, who wished to follow him, paused for an instantat this sight: she never yet had sufficient resolution to enter hermother's apartment, and trembled at the idea of revisiting a spotso filled with her image. "But how can I ever be of service to myfather, if I cannot go where it is his desire always to remain? Come,I must go to him;" and, making an effort to command her feelings, shewent to her father. Surprised and pleased to see her in this room,where his recollections became almost realities, he embraced her witheven more than his wonted tenderness; and, comparing, with a pleasuremingled with grief, the portrait of his wife with the features of hisdaughter,--"Oh, my child!" he exclaimed at length, his voice checkedby tears, "I have only you now." She threw her arms round him, and forsome time neither father nor daughter could utter a word. At length,overcoming her emotion, she said, "My dear papa, I have hitherto donevery wrong, but I will endeavour to repair my faults. I have been aselfish, ungrateful child, and lived only for myself; henceforth mylife shall be devoted to you. Forgive me for having been so uselessto you; forget the past; you shall see that I am no longer the same,and you shall be satisfied with my conduct. Kiss me, dear papa; I willcorrect all my faults, and endeavour to be like mamma."

  "God bless you, my child, for having formed such a project! but you arevery young to make even the attempt."

  "Not too young, I hope. I shall hardly succeed at first, but therecollection of mamma will come to my assistance. I know what she usedto do, and I will endeavour to imitate her. I will come and see you inyour study, and be always ready to give up my own occupations to pleaseyou. I will give Stephen his lessons. I will keep the accounts. Youshall see how steady I will be; only try me, papa."

  "Do what you like, my child; I am in no state to make any decision;I can think of nothing. I leave you mistress of the house, of yourbrother, of myself. If there are still any peaceful moments in storefor me on this earth, I shall enjoy them through you, and you alone."

  "And Stephen, papa, you forget him."

  "Poor child! no, I do not forget him; go and bring him here."

  Caroline brought her little brother to her father, who took him in hisarms, saying, "Stephen, you loved dear mamma, did you not?"

  "With all my heart," replied the child, sobbing.

  "And you were also obedient to her. Well, now you must love yoursister, and obey her; she will be a mother to you henceforward."

  "Would you like it, Stephen?" asked Caroline, "would you like me totake care of you, and give you your lessons?"

  "Yes, if you promise not to scold me."

  "My dear child, I will not scold you; I will try to be kind like mamma."

  "Oh, you are very kind already, I am sure," said Stephen, caressing hissister, "only sometimes you get out of patience, and that frightens me."

  "Make yourself easy, I intend to grow better; but you must also be verygood, to please papa, who has so much sorrow."

  "Oh! yes; for that I will learn my lessons better than I used to do."

  "My beloved children," said M. de Manzay, encircling them both in hisarms, "my dear children, this is the first moment of comfort I have hadfor a week past. Go, my own Caroline, assume your new functions; takepossession of the keys; direct, command, re-establish the regularitywhich formerly reigned in the house; take the same care of your brotherthat he has been accustomed to; but first come to me, that I may giveyou my blessing, before the portrait of your mother."

  After some moments devoted to these tender and afflicting emotions,Caroline left the room with Stephen. Her first care was to see if hisapartment was in order: she found it completely stripped of all thearticles which he was in the habit of using.

  "What has become of your little table, Stephen?" she enquired.

  "Oh! I dare say it is in the garden; I took it there the day beforeyesterday, and they have forgotten to bring it in."

  "And your arm-chair?"

  "I tied it to Turk's tail, for a carriage, and he broke it."

  "You might have expected as much, my dear."

  "What could I do? I was alone, and tired of doing nothing."

  "You have recollected, I hope, to give water to your birds."

  "Oh! gracious! I have never given them any but once. Poor creatures!they must be very thirsty. But, Caroline, do not scold me, it is notmy fault. Every morning, mamma used to ask me if I had taken water andseeds to my birds, leaves to my rabbits, and grass to my fawn; and now,who is there to think of all these things?"

  "I will. Let us go to your aviary, and I will talk to you by the way."

  Caroline then explained to her brother all her plans concerning him.She told him that he should work with her, and that she would amusehim, and take care of all his things; in a word, that she would, asfar as possible, supply the place of a mother to him. She had hisbooks brought into her sitting-room, and such of his playthings as hehad been accustomed to keep in his mother's apartment; she gave him ashelf in her library, and the lower part of a closet, and establishedhis little table by the window, as he wished. At first, she intendedto place it elsewhere, for this was her own favourite place; but sherecollected that last year, when she had remarked that her mamma washappy in being able to enjoy, while sitting at table, the prospect overthe valley, her mother had yielded to her the place she coveted. "Icannot be so good as mamma," she thought, "unless I do as she did, so Iwill remove my table from the window."

  Such were the feelings and views with which Caroline undertookthe reformation of her character, and she begun the task with theblind ardour so natural to youth: that happy privilege bestowed byProvidence, to remove all hesitation from their resolutions, and leavenothing doubtful but the execution. But this first strong and happyimpulse does not always last; when the sentiment which gave it birthceases to be exclusive, things which had been forgotten reappear, therealities of life and the peculiarities of character resume theirclaims, and what we still desire above all things is, nevertheless,not our sole object. This was precisely the case with Caroline. For aconsiderable time her heart was so full of the idea of her great loss,of the remembrance of her faults, of her affection for her father,and of the new pleasure of exerting herself for the sake of others,that she could not form a thought exclusively for herself, and wouldhave been indignant had she been desired to do so; but when, after thelapse of several months, life had returned to its uniform course, whenbusiness was again attended to, and all the family had resumed theirusual habits, she perceived how completely her own had been overturned.The time which she formerly employed, according to her fancy, was nolonger her own; a great part of it was absorbed by her little brother,and her pursuits were also frequently interrupted by her father. Aslong as he had a friend constantly at hand, he might be always disposedto accommodate himself to the arrangements of his daughter, but nowthat this friend was no more, Caroline was required to replace her,and became his property: their positions were changed, and the effectof this was perpetually felt, and the more strikingly in proportion astheir first deep affliction subsided by degrees, and M. de Manzay wasable to take some interest in the scenes around him, and his daughterto enter into her own employments.

  It will readily be believed that, in a young person of sixteen, achange of this nature could not be made easily, or completely carriedout from the first. In order to maintain it, Caroline was obliged toexert much self-control, and she often failed of success. It wouldsometimes happen that she kept her brother waiting to repeat hislesson, because
she was reading an interesting book, or playing anair that she liked; on other occasions, she would defer the householdaccounts for several days whilst she was finishing a drawing, orcompleting a piece of embroidery; and occasionally her father couldread so plainly in her countenance that she had no interest in what heproposed, that he would give up his intention, not without a melancholyretrospect of the days when whatever he wished became immediately theearnest object of another. Yet it must also be said that Carolineacknowledged and regretted all her faults, and very often repairedthem so promptly and so thoroughly, that they almost became a merit,and led to fresh improvement. Stephen never found her so kind andpatient, or her father so affectionately devoted to him, as when shehad to reproach herself with some act of impatience or caprice; and,generally speaking, she quickly recovered herself. To give one instanceamongst others:--It was several months after the death of Madame deManzay, and everything had been placed as far as possible on its formerfooting in the chateau, and tranquillity and peace, the more valuablein proportion as happiness is wanting, were reestablished in the house,when, one day, M. de Manzay entered his daughter's apartment with aletter in his hand. "Caroline," he said, "would you like Denis to comeand live with us for some time?"

  "Oh, no, certainly not. I do not want him; he is insufferable."

  "But, my dear, his guardian is lately dead, and Denis, as you know, ison bad terms with the wife, so that he cannot remain with her: wherecan he go, unless he comes to Primini?"

  "Let him go where he likes. Why does he make himself detested by everyone? Oh! I should not have a moment's peace if he were here; I wouldrather go away myself than remain with him. Pray, papa, write word atonce that you cannot have him."

  "I will write and say that _you_ would rather not; for my own part, Iwill assuredly not be the person to refuse to receive your mother'snephew;" and M. de Manzay left the room. Caroline was struck with theselast words, and with the tone in which they were uttered. "_My mother'snephew_," thought she; "but Denis does not in the least resemble mamma;he is as unamiable as she was good: yet my father appears to regrethim: perhaps he thinks that Denis will be cured of his faults--but thatcannot be, for he never listens to a word that is said to him. However,he must not be left in the streets; besides, if my father wishes him tocome here, that is the most important point. Well! I must be patient,and, after all, he will not eat me."

  Caroline rose, after having made these brief reflections, and repairedto her father's room. He was pacing the apartment with a pensive air,still holding in his hand the letter which announced the death ofDenis's guardian.

  "My dear papa," said she, "I come to request you to invite Denis tocome to us."

  "Indeed, my dear."

  "Yes; just now I was still more unreasonable than he is: pray be sokind as to think no more of it, and to write for Denis."

  "You are a good girl, and I promise you to prevent him from tormentingyou."

  "Oh! no, papa, do not trouble yourself about the matter; I know thatthese petty grievances are very annoying to you, and I will find meansto manage. Perhaps he may have learned to behave better than formerly,and I am certainly less childish than I was a year ago. Make yourselfeasy, papa, all shall go on well."

  A fortnight after this conversation, Denis arrived at his uncle'shouse. He was fifteen, but his reason was not in proportion to his age.Endowed with great strength and unconquerable activity, he delightedonly in noise and commotion, and, if he was fond of teazing, it wasonly to produce this commotion. Anything was acceptable to him butquiet: the anger of a child, the insults of a servant, the barking of adog, all answered his purpose, and he would not have cared to teaze ananimal unless it cried out. During his first visit to Primini, Stephenhad been a great assistance to him. Sometimes he would torment him,and amuse himself with his anger; sometimes he would divert him, andlaugh at the displeasure which this occasioned to Caroline; and, ifthe latter became seriously angry, Denis had attained the height ofhis wishes. He was not ill-disposed, but he could not endure _ennui_,and he knew not how to avoid it by rational occupations. Brought upin the country, and much spoiled by his guardian, he had taken moreinterest in the employments of the labourers, the gardeners, and thegamekeepers, than in the lessons which he from time to time receivedfrom the masters, who came from the neighbouring town. He never took upa book, unless he met with accounts of voyages, and battles, tales ofrobbers, or ghost stories; and his greatest ambition was to lead thelife of a corsair some day, or to go and live amongst the savages, andendeavour to be chosen as the chief of a tribe. He was brave, adroit,and capable of generous actions, but he was violent and wilful, andthrough his excessive activity was becoming a torment to himself andothers.

  Such was the guest whose arrival Caroline dreaded and certainly notwithout reason. When he entered the drawing-room, where all the familywas assembled, he rushed forward so abruptly to embrace his uncle, thathe overturned a table which stood in his way; the lamp which was uponit fell upon Stephen, struck him severely, and covered him with oil.He began to cry, and Caroline, running to him, wounded her foot witha piece of the broken glass. In a word, the arrival of Denis was asignal for noise and confusion; and, what was still worse, Caroline wasmuch disposed to be angry with him, and demand whether he would neverlearn to be more careful--but she restrained herself, recollecting thepromise she had given to her father that all should go well; and, whentranquillity was a little restored, she embraced her cousin cordially,and received him in a very friendly manner. During some days all wenton tolerably well; Denis had so much to see that he did not requirethe aid of others to pass away his time; besides, notwithstanding hisrudeness, he was not altogether exempt from that kind of shyness, whichis not unusual with those who can neither conform to the establishedusages of society, nor entirely shake off their exactions. He wasalways ill at ease with persons with whom he was not completelyfamiliar; indeed, he generally withdrew when a stranger came in; andthe few days which were required to renew his acquaintance with theinhabitants of Primini were agreeable enough to them, and very painfulto himself: but this state of things did not long continue, he soonrecovered the freedom of his disposition and manners, and the effectof this upon the tranquillity of the chateau was speedily felt. At hisfirst attacks, Caroline, who had prepared herself to bear everythingwith patience, supported her cousin's tricks without complaint, pickedup a dozen times the reel of cotton which he threw down, re-lighted thetaper which he extinguished, or replaced before her piano the chairwhich he removed as soon as she left it. One day, however, Denis, wearyof his ineffectual attempts to put her out of temper, after havingtried in vain during the whole of a rainy morning, began to teazeStephen, and smeared with ink a picture which he held in his hand. Thechild burst into tears, and Caroline, excited by his vexation, and bythe impatience which she had so long curbed, was now seriously angry.

  "Leave my room, Denis," she cried, "it really is impossible to livewith you. Not satisfied with trying the whole day to provoke me, youmust now make poor Stephen cry. Go away, I will not have you stay in myroom."

  "Then you must put me out of the door yourself, for I shall not stir."

  "You will not go! Am I not mistress in my own apartment?"

  "Certainly, if you can only make yourself obeyed;" and, so saying,Denis placed himself in an arm-chair.

  "I will go and fetch my father."

  "As you please; I am not afraid of my uncle, he is much kinder than youare."

  Caroline hastened to M. de Manzay's room; she was ready to cry, and herflushed cheeks betrayed her vivid emotion.

  "Papa," she said, "will you come and order Denis to quit my room?"

  "Why do you wish to turn him out?"

  "He teazes me, and makes Stephen cry; it is impossible to have anypeace with him,--he makes me quite miserable."

  "Well, then, let him return to Paris."

  "No--I only want him to leave my room."

  "That would settle the question to-day, but to-morrow he might beginagain; and I will no
t have to interfere perpetually in your quarrels."

  "This is the first time, papa, I have ever applied to you."

  "The same thing will be recurring every day. I would rather he shouldgo--he must be sent to college."

  "Send Denis to college, papa! He would be expelled directly."

  "So much the worse for him; there will be nothing left for him but togo to sea; that is, after all, the best profession for him, and I willnot have him render you unhappy."

  "But, papa, would it not be better to prevent him from doing so, byobliging him to behave more reasonably?"

  "It would be insufferable to me, to be obliged to be always lookingafter him. I require tranquillity. I will send Denis away if you likeit, but to be perpetually watching him is what I cannot do."

  "Then," she exclaimed, in tears, "I must be the victim of thismischievous boy."

  "No, certainly; that shall not be the case: he shall go at once. Callmy nephew," said M. de Manzay to a gardener, who was at work in frontof the window.

  "He is not in the chateau, sir," replied the man; "he has just gonedown towards the mill with Master Stephen."

  "With Stephen!" repeated M. de Manzay. "What were you telling me thenjust now, Caroline?"

  "They seem to have made up their quarrel, papa, and I will follow theirexample, for I could not suffer Denis to be sent away."

  "So much the better, for this time I will pass over his conduct, but atthe very first dispute----

  "There shall be none, papa; or, at least, you shall not be troubledabout the matter."

  "Thank you, my dear child, embrace me. You are a good girl, and thejoy of your poor father's heart." And M. de Manzay pressed Caroline tohis bosom with the utmost tenderness, grateful for the decision whichspared his weakness. When she had quitted him, she reflected on herposition. She saw clearly that it was in vain to seek from her fatherany support against Denis, for, although he had not the same affectionfor him as he felt towards herself, he was almost as much afraid ofopposing him: not that Denis was ill-disposed, but he was so eagerabout what he wished, and had so determined a will, that his unclehesitated to resist him; and it would have been a thousand times lesspainful to him to send Denis away, in order to spare his daughter amoment's uneasiness, than to watch over his conduct, and prevent himfrom being so troublesome and disagreeable.

  It was, therefore, in herself alone that she must seek a remedy for theinconveniences occasioned by her cousin's disposition. It was only byher own calmness and superior sense that she could make him ashamed ofhis resolution to teaze her. She had already occasionally experiencedthe happy effects of apparent indifference, and he had more than oncedesisted from his mischievous tricks, when he found that they did notattain his object. The only plan, then, was to be habitually so patientas to weary him out, and induce him to seek amusements less annoyingto others. This being the case, her own tranquillity, and that of herfather, must depend upon herself, and for this it was worth while tomake some efforts. Yes, undoubtedly, it was well worth while, but suchefforts were not so easy as Caroline had imagined, as she quickly foundby experience. She said to herself, beforehand, that, after all, sheneed not be so very unhappy, because Denis would gather her choicestflowers, trample on her flower-beds, disturb her silkworms, or meddlewith her herbal; that domestic tranquillity was more valuable thanthese trifles; and that she had but to sacrifice them at once andentirely: but, if she could bear calmly, though not without a secretstruggle, the malicious tricks which her cousin played her, and was notangry once in a dozen times that she was tempted to be so, and thathe well deserved it, she could not behold Stephen's vexations withthe same equanimity, and when he began to cry her indignation wouldburst forth. This was, however, bad policy; for Denis then enjoyed adouble triumph, which was the more agreeable to him because it wasso easily gained. Poor Caroline had, therefore, to pass many unhappymoments; and, whether she succeeded in commanding herself or not, shewas continually vexed and agitated, and was every day surprised to findlife so full of hardships, and duty so difficult.

  But she had also to encounter other difficulties, which were quiteunexpected, and which she could not overcome by mere force of will, anda determination to conquer them. The greater part of these difficultiesdid not arise from within, from her own habits and disposition, fromher old aversion to contradiction, and still more to restraint;they came from without, and had their source in the prejudices andpassions of others; and upright intentions and firm resolution werenot sufficient immediately to overcome them. Caroline had excitedmany unfavourable prejudices, which, however just in some respects,were unjust in their exclusive severity: it was necessary for her totriumph over these,--necessary, but difficult; and she learned tosee how intimate is the connection in our destinies, what lengthenedresponsibility may attach to an action, in appearance the mosttrivial, and how indispensable it is to act to the best of our abilityin all things, if we would have a conscience free from the fear ofconsequences.

  Two years had now elapsed since Caroline had lost her mother. M. deManzay had regained sufficient self-command to occupy himself with theeducation of Stephen. The hunting season detained Denis at a distancefrom the chateau; and Caroline, being now accustomed to the managementof household affairs, was not obliged to devote so much time to them;and, having become more reasonable, she employed her remaining hoursbetter, and consequently found more leisure than formerly, althoughin reality she had much more to do. She was particularly struck bythe details given in a newspaper of the happy results produced inthe village of L----, by the establishment of a school and workinginstitution for girls, according to the method of mutual instruction.All night her head was full of the subject, and the next day, as soonas she rose, she went and proposed to her father to found a similarschool of industry in the village, near their chateau, and offered toundertake its direction.

  "We must send for a person who understands the method from one of theParis schools," she said, "we can then form the establishment and trainthe monitors; when they are sufficiently instructed, the management ofthe children will be entrusted to them, and I shall superintend them.That was the plan adopted at L----."

  "I ask nothing better, my dear; it will be useful to the village, andafford you occupation. Think over the matter again, and, if you persistin your project, we will speak of it to the cure."

  "Why speak to him? It is not his business."

  "The education of his parishioners is, in a certain sense, hisbusiness; and his opposition would be a great obstacle."

  "But surely he would not oppose it; he ought to be pleased when thepoor are benefited."

  "He is no doubt very charitable, but he is also self-willed. You knowI have never been able to hold intercourse with him upon any pointwhatever. He would not even recommend a beggar to me."

  "Very true, but he cannot refuse our proposal. Oh! how happy I shall bewhen the plan is carried into effect."

  Caroline had several conversations with her father on the subject,and was delighted at the idea of being useful to all those littlegirls, who were so wretched and so ignorant. The day on which it wasat length decided between them that the school should be established,she went out full of joy to take a walk. She was musing over herprojects, considering in what manner she could render herself belovedand respected by the children, and gain their confidence--thought overthe rewards she would give, and the good advice she would address tothem--in a word, she was at this moment quite happy, and foresaw nodifficulty, when she met the cure, who was returning from a visit to asick person. He bowed, and would have passed without speaking to her,but, with the confidence natural to her age and character, she stoppedhim saying, "Monsieur le Cure, I have something to tell you."

  "Indeed! Miss Caroline; what can it be?" replied the cure, with an airof surprise and almost of severity. "It appears to me that we havenot much connection with each other, and that you occupy yourself butlittle with the sort of affairs that interest me."

  "But I wish to occupy myself with them, and t
hat is what I have to tellyou about. My father intends to establish a school of industry in thevillage."

  "For what purpose? We have already a schoolmistress."

  "She is old and half deaf, they say; besides she has not a good methodof teaching."

  "How do you know that? You have never visited the school."

  "I shall go every day to the new school; I shall be superintendent."

  "You understand, then, what is to be taught?"

  "I suppose I know how to read and write."

  "Yes, but the catechism; you are probably not acquainted with that; foryou do not set a very good example to our young girls."

  "How! Monsieur le Cure," exclaimed Caroline, colouring with anger andvexation; "what do you mean?"

  "I mean, young lady, that you often come into church after the servicehas begun, and sometimes go away before it is over."

  "Oh, Monsieur le Cure, it is a very long time since that has happened."

  "I know nothing about that; I have not time to pay attention to theexact days, but it is really a scandal."

  "Monsieur le Cure, I now always remain the whole time. Pray inquire if,for the last two years, I have not come in very punctually."

  "Yes; and do you no longer give bad advice as you used to do formerly?"

  "I never gave any one bad advice."

  "You forget that, in consequence of your interrupting the gardener'sdaughter in her attendance on the catechism, you caused her firstcommunion to be deferred, and that, when you saw her crying on thataccount, you told her it was no great misfortune, and gave her aneck-handkerchief to console her, so that she ended by saying that itdid not much matter whether she made her first communion then or not,and that a year sooner or later was all the same to her. Perhaps you donot recollect also, that when your milkwoman, Dame Joan, wanted to sendher daughter to her old mother, and that Matty did not like going, youtold her that her mother was very ill-natured to oppose her wishes, andthat your parents let you do whatever you pleased."

  "But, Monsieur le Cure, I was then a child; it is more than three yearsago."

  "You have now, then, become reasonable, I suppose, Caroline?"

  "You know I have, Monsieur le Cure.'

  "And how should I know it? Have you ever told me so?"

  "How could I tell you? We never see you at the chateau."

  "Where, then, could I learn the alteration of which you speak? Have Iseen any effects of it? Do you ever visit our poor? Have you given goodadvice to our young girls? Have you procured work for their mothers?You talk of superintending a school of industry; do you even know howto hem a duster? It is said that you do not. No, Miss Caroline; go andplay on the piano, work at your embroidery, amuse yourself, but do notpretend to teach others: there we can do without you."

  "Oh! how severe you are, Monsieur le Cure," said poor Caroline.

  "I am but just, Miss Caroline. I am aware that this is not the way theyspeak to you at the chateau; but things are not the better for that."

  "Why have you not given me good advice? I should have profited by it."

  "To be sure I ought to have done so, in order that M. de Manzay mightridicule it!"

  "My father has never ridiculed you, Monsieur le Cure."

  "That is hardly probable. He opposes me constantly. Not a week ago heprevented the municipal council from doing what I requested: he had theupper hand then, now it is my turn. Good evening, Miss Caroline; youwill not establish your school."

  Caroline repulsed by the Cure, p. 332.]

  Having thus spoken, the cure bowed, and left her, without waiting for areply. The poor child was thunderstruck at finding herself the objectof so much severity, prejudice, and injustice. "What have I done,then," she exclaimed, in tears, "to give such a bad opinion of me? Iwish well to every one, and no one loves me. Oh, how ill-natured theworld is--nobody has been kind to me but papa and mamma; and mamma isno longer with us!" Caroline abandoned herself for some time to all thebitterness of her heart, and was indignant at this malevolence, withoutat all considering whether it were altogether gratuitous, or whetherit might not have some foundation. However, as she reflected on thereproofs of the cure, they brought to her recollection other occasionson which she might have justly incurred his censure. By continuedreflection and self-examination, she at last perceived, that shemust formerly have given a sufficiently bad opinion of herself to allthe grave heads of the village, and that she had done nothing sincecalculated to change that opinion. Fully occupied with her father,towards whom alone she felt that she had been deficient, and with herbrother, whom she considered as a sacred legacy from her mother, ithad not for a moment occurred to her that strangers might have reasonto complain, or pass an unfavourable judgment upon her conduct; northat approbation might be refused, even when her actions deserved it."It is quite natural," she said, at length; "why should Monsieur leCure suppose that I have corrected my faults? He would not enquireof my father if I now comply with all his wishes, or ask Stephen ifI am a patient teacher, or Denis whether I bear with him better thanformerly. Since I wish to persuade him of the change which has takenplace in me, I must begin by giving him proofs of it. I will do allI can, but it will take a long time, for Monsieur le Cure does notgive up his notions very readily. I must ask my father to wait beforehe establishes the school." Monsieur de Manzay was surprised, likehis daughter, at the prejudices which existed against her; he lovedher so tenderly, and found in her so many charming qualities, that hecould never have calculated the effects of her faults, and he foundit difficult to conceive that any one could look upon his Carolinewith other eyes than his own. However, he entered into her views,and readily consented to her wish to postpone the execution of herbenevolent projects, in order to carry them out more effectually.

  A few days after that on which the cure had treated her so harshly,Caroline met him again. He bowed to her with more amenity than on theformer occasion, for he had reproached himself most heartily for havingrepulsed with such asperity the good intentions of so young a person,and one who showed so much enthusiasm. He had besides, made someinquiries about her during the interval; had spoken to persons who keptup an intercourse with the chateau; and all he had heard increased hisregret. He was therefore glad to meet her, and hastened to address her."How is your little brother, Miss Caroline?" he inquired; "I hear thathe has a cold."

  "Thank you, Monsieur le Cure, he is better to-day." They remainedsome moments silent, each wishing to say something, but not knowingexactly where to begin. Caroline at length broke the silence: "Monsieurle Cure, you were very hard upon me the other day; but you taught mesomething of which I was completely ignorant, and which it was verynecessary I should know. I had forgotten my childish follies, and didnot imagine that others would remember them; you have rendered me aservice by undeceiving me; I entreat you now to assist me in convincingevery one--and yourself especially--that I have altered for the better.What must I do for this purpose? I am ready to follow your advice."

  "My dear young lady," replied the cure with a gentleness which wasunusual to him, "I perceive clearly that you are very much improved,for formerly you resented the slightest remonstrance, and now youbear with sweetness even harshness and injustice. I have been reallygrieved, I assure you, that I was so hard upon you the other day. WhenI was at some distance, I said to myself: Now, here is this child ofsixteen, who was never contradicted in her life, and yet is as patientas a lamb when severe things are said to her; whilst I, an old priest,who fifty years ago renounced the world and its passions, am angryand repulse her good resolutions. Instead of killing the fatted calf,I shut the door against the returning prodigal; and yet, poor littlething, she has done no great harm; she can only be reproached withchildish conduct."

  "Indeed! Monsieur le Cure," cried Caroline, joyfully, "you reallythought all this? Oh! how grateful I am to you!"

  "You have nothing to thank me for, my dear young lady, it is but commonjustice. I much wished to pay you a visit at the chateau, to express myregret, but I dared not,
it is so long since I have seen Monsieur deManzay, and I responded so ill last week to his request for additionalseats in the church, that I did not know how he might receive me; butyou are very kind I see, and you will not be offended with an old manwho has not yet learned to command his temper. Oh! my child, you areyoung, and in the season of vigour; for the love of God, employ all thestrength you possess in mastering your passions. This is the real dutyof man, as the Scripture says. To be benevolent and compassionate, topossess a generous heart and an exalted character, to act so as to makeyourself beloved by every one, all this is much in the sight of Godand man, and all this I believe you will be; but still all this is notsufficient, and, in conjunction with so many good qualities, may existgreat faults, which will prepare for us many regrets. Witness me, forinstance, my dear young lady; I am not good for much, but I may saythat I love my parishioners, and that I desire their welfare with allmy heart. Your father has the best intentions possible, and is full ofcompassion for the poor, and yet I ask nothing from him, and take noadvantage of so good a neighbour: and why is this? Because the firsttime I met him, four years ago, when he had just completed the purchaseof this estate, I heard him praise the Revolution, and say that it wasa glorious event. From that moment all was at an end between us; heappeared to my imagination a Jacobin, ready to set fire to our church,and oblige us again to say mass under the shelter of the woods; and Iwould never hear of any intercourse with him. I am no longer of thatopinion, Miss Caroline: I perceive that it is possible to be a verypeaceful, and a very honest man, and yet speak well of the Revolution;and several times I have been tempted to renew intercourse withMonsieur de Manzay, but various things have turned out unfavourably.He had a master removed whom I patronised; he decided the municipalcouncil to employ upon a road the money which I had asked for a bell;and when you spoke to me about the school, I fancied it was to opposeme that he chose to have another in these new methods, of which I knownothing, and in which, therefore, I could not interfere. There is myconfession, my dear young lady. Now give me your hand, for yourself,and for Monsieur de Manzay; assure me that you bear me no ill-will; andtell me what are your projects."

  "I have none for the present, Monsieur le Cure," replied Caroline,greatly moved, as she placed her hand in that of the old man. "I haveno plan, but to follow your advice in everything. Tell me what I mustdo, in order to make the villagers forget that I was formerly a veryunreasonable child."

  "My dear young lady, you need only be the same at Montfort that you areat the chateau. I have asked a great deal about you since the otherday, and have heard much in your favour, but these things are not knownamongst our people, and it is a pity. Observe, Miss Caroline, that youcannot be useful to our poor people, without becoming acquainted withthem, and making them acquainted with you. Go and see them sometimes;I assure you that you would become attached to them; and when you arefamiliar with their wants and have acquired their confidence, we willtalk of your school, if you like."

  At this moment the bell of the chateau rang for dinner, and Carolinewas obliged to take leave of the cure. They parted on the bestterms possible, and the very next day she began her visits to thepoor inhabitants of Montfort: but her project was not easy ofaccomplishment. The cure had not exaggerated the prejudices of whichshe was the object; and, to those which affected her personally, wereunited other grounds of dislike, of which she was totally innocent.The arrival of Monsieur de Manzay in this part of the country, hadnot been looked on with favour, because he succeeded a proprietor whowas much beloved by the inhabitants, and who had been obliged, bymisfortune, to sell the estate. In order to banish the remembrance ofthis unfavourable commencement, Monsieur and Madame de Manzay musthave been to the inhabitants of Montfort all that Monsieur and Madamede Solanges had been. The latter, without children, without any livelyaffections, or high powers of mind, but endowed with that intelligentactivity which is so great a resource in the various relations oflife, took much interest in all the affairs of the peasantry, gavethem advice and assistance, and were to them a sort of visible andfriendly Providence, whose aid they believed could never fail. WithMonsieur and Madame de Manzay all was very different: concentrated intheir domestic circle, in the happiness of conscious mutual affection,in the care of their children, and in the elevated pleasures derivedfrom highly cultivated minds, they paid little attention to anythingbeyond the very small circle of their affections. They were supposed tobe indifferent, because they were exclusive; proud, because they wereabsorbed in themselves: and the departure of Monsieur and Madame deSolanges was a continued source of regret. Caroline was, therefore, notreceived with much pleasure at Montfort, and it often required greatforbearance on her part not to abandon the inhabitants of the villageto their unreasonableness and injustice, and renounce all her plans:even the cure himself, whom she had seen so well disposed, often fellback into his old prejudices against her and her family. Sometimes hewould be influenced by the ill-humour of some of the village gossips,and sometimes the appearance of a dress or bonnet a little fashionablewould induce him to say that Caroline was better fitted for the gaysociety of Paris than for the country, and that she would not do asmuch good in her whole life, as Madame de Solanges in a single hour.Sometimes he was angry because she did not compel all the householdto attend church, but left every one at liberty in this respect; atothers, Monsieur de Manzay, as mayor, had to support the rights of thecommune against the encroachments of the cure, and the latter ventedhis displeasure on poor Caroline, and would hardly answer her when shewished to communicate to him her remarks, her views, and her hopes. Theelections, when Monsieur de Manzay voted for the opposition candidate,retarded the establishment of the school at Montfort three months; notthat the cure interested himself deeply in politics, but his friendstook up the question with so much warmth, that they succeeded ininflaming him, and for more than six weeks he never set foot in thechateau.

  Caroline found it difficult, without becoming morose, to fortifyherself against all these obstacles; to maintain calmness underdisappointment, yet keep up the same lively interest in success.Indeed, I know not if the welfare of the inhabitants of Montfort,her conviction that she had duties to fulfil towards them, and thatGod would not have given her the means, without imposing on her theobligation of being useful, would always have sufficed to supporther under this arduous struggle--and if she might not, in a momentof discouragement, have said to herself, that she was no longerresponsible towards persons who rejected all her efforts for theirbenefit,--had not another sentiment come to her aid, and softened theunpleasantness of her enterprise. She had perceived, with sorrow, thather mother was not beloved at Montfort as she deserved to be. Herfirst impulse was that of violent irritation and bitter displeasureagainst those who failed to do justice to Madame de Manzay; but alittle reflection corrected this feeling, and she considered that thebest homage she could render to the memory of her mother, would beto acquire the affection of her neighbours, to such a degree, thatsome portion of it might be reflected upon her by whose remembranceshe was guided and encouraged: this idea rendered every sacrificeand every effort more easy to her; she found nothing difficult, whenthe aim was to call down blessings on the name of her mother, andto efface the unjust prejudice which even death had been unable todestroy. Her filial efforts were crowned with success; she saw all herdesires accomplished; and became the successor, with the inhabitantsof Montfort, to the attachment which they had retained for Monsieurand Madame de Solanges. They ceased to regret that Monsieur de Manzayhad come to settle amongst them, and very soon began to congratulatethemselves on that event; for Caroline, who was all-powerful with herfather, induced him to have more intercourse with his neighbours,and by that means he was frequently able to be of service to them. Afountain was required in the town. Caroline begged her father to haveone constructed, and to name it after her mother, so that her memorymight be connected, in the minds of the people, with the idea of abenefit. The cure united with her in the distribution of relief to thepoor: Caroline gave away
flax for spinning, potatoes, meal; Monsieurde Manzay kept in store faggots and turf; and the cure recommended tothem those who were really distressed and deserving of assistance. Theschool and the work-room were established, and the children made rapidprogress. Thus, in the course of a few years, the inhabitants of thechateau and those of the village found their position, with regard toeach other, completely altered; instead of being grievous and hurtful,they had been rendered agreeable and useful, through the exertions of ayoung girl, who, against the difficulties of the present, drew all herstrength from her regret for the past, and her hopes for the future.

  But if the salutary influence of Caroline extended itself abroad, itwas not, on that account, the less active, or the less efficacious, athome, in the bosom of her own family. In a very few years, everythingat Primini had undergone a change. Monsieur de Manzay, who was formerlyacquainted only with the enjoyments of the heart, and the pleasures ofthe intellect, whose life passed away in generous but useless emotions,in beautiful but sterile conceptions, who never sought to communicatehis ideas to others, and found, in the disinterested contemplation oftruth, sufficient to delight his heart and satisfy his conscience, was,unknown to himself, raised from this state of careless languor, whichhe had looked upon almost as a merit, and learned to consider it afault. Caroline, no longer a child, matured by misfortune, and anxiousto associate herself with all the tastes and occupations of her father,directed towards the subjects which interested him the energy whichhad formerly been expended on her own fancies. She very soon becameacquainted with his opinions, and adopted them. But it was not merelyfor her personal satisfaction that she entered into them so deeply.Endowed with great strength of will, and full of the ardour of herage, it was inconceivable to her, that any one should consider he hadfulfilled his duty to the cause of truth, while yet he did nothing topromote its triumphs, nor felt the necessity of imparting that of whichhe cherished the belief. This disposition in the daughter reacted onthe father. Monsieur de Manzay, at first, contented himself with takingthe steps which Caroline requested, out of complaisance to her. Heexpected no other result than the pleasure which she derived from them,and the affectionate gratitude which she evinced towards him. But, whensuccess had several times crowned his efforts, when exertions, whichhe fancied useless, had brought back to constitutional principles aneighbour who had been enlisted on the other side, by prejudices easyto be overcome; when an appeal to the proper authority had obtainedthe redress of an illegal act; when a journey to the principal town hadbeen of essential service to an election, important to the country; or,when the farmers had consented to adopt new and advantageous methodsof culture, Monsieur de Manzay congratulated himself on having yieldedto the entreaties of his daughter, and began to think that men arenaturally accessible to reason, and that to induce them to submit toit completely, there is often nothing more required than to present itto them in their own way. Such a conviction was encouraging, and madehim wish to employ, for the advantage of his neighbours, all thosefacilities for serving them which he enjoyed, in the possession of asuperior understanding and extensive knowledge. He became more intimatewith them, and was useful to almost all. Old emigrants, strangers towhat was passing around them, to whom liberty was but revolution, andmonarchy the old _regime_, learned, by their intercourse with him, thatit was possible to be a friend to representative government, withoutapproving the crimes of the Convention; that a man might love equality,without being, necessarily, ill-bred; that the king's authority gainsnothing from being served by bad ministers; and that there is norebellion in preferring an honest man, brought in by the opposition,but of good ability, and well-known amongst his fellow-citizens, to adesigning fellow, without merit, who is sent from Paris, or imposedon the electors by a circular. Young people, on the contrary, led bydiscontent with what is around them to admire all that existed thirtyyears back, were convinced, by conversing with Monsieur de Manzay, thateverything was not to be regretted in the times of the Revolution orof the Empire; and that because the past was very different from thepresent, it had not the less been often very bad. Aged men, full ofthe ideas of the last century, obstinately refused all the demands ofthe cure, and applauded themselves on the success of this obstinacy,as a victory in the good cause; Monsieur de Manzay led them back tomore reasonable sentiments, and the cure, in his turn, ceased to attackthem. In a word, Monsieur de Manzay, from a solitary and unknown man,became a communicative and influential one; his power of being usefulwas thus increased, and consequently his happiness; and for theseadvantages he was indebted to his daughter.

  Stephen was also a gainer by the new order of ideas which had beenintroduced into the family. His sister, convinced by her own experienceof the disadvantages of a too desultory education, felt it to be amatter of much importance that his should be conducted with regularity.She prevailed on her father to give him fixed lessons, and to exacta strict performance of the duties imposed on him; she undertook towatch over their execution, and devoted to this inspection a largeportion of her time; she also took upon herself the charge of teachinghim many things which it was desirable he should know, and in whichshe was capable of giving him instruction. All this was easy, butthere was yet more to be done: knowledge is desirable and necessary,it is even indispensable; yet it is but one portion, and that not themost important, of education. Though Stephen's mind was not yet fullydeveloped, Caroline was extremely desirous to turn all his abilitiesto account; but she was still more anxious that his views should beright, his decisions just, and his character firm: she wished him toknow how to appreciate everything according to its real value, that hemight not passionately attach himself to trivial objects, and that heshould give his whole mind to whatever he had once determined on. Toattain these results, Stephen must not be indulged as she had been,for she still often felt how naturally the habit of yielding to everyfancy leads to mistakes as to what is of real importance. This point,however, she found it difficult to obtain from M. de Manzay. How washe to be induced to give pain to this child, the last pledge of herwhose remembrance constituted his life; how could he resist his wishes,impose restraints on him, treat him with severity? Perhaps by urging itvery importunately, and asking it as a personal favour, Caroline mighthave gained this difficult conquest, and led her father to subdue thefeelings of his heart, and make use of one weakness to combat another;but she did not have recourse to this dangerous method; her naturalsense of uprightness deterred her from making use of it, and taught herthat truth alone has the privilege of finally triumphing over error;that one passion is not well vanquished by another; and that though itbe a longer, it is at all events a surer way to appeal to reason, thesole legitimate and absolute sovereign of our moral nature. It was,therefore, not by entreaties, but by rational persuasion, that shesucceeded in inducing her father to train Stephen for other aims thanmere present enjoyment, the amusement of the day, or the gratificationof his passing fancies. Nor let it be imagined that Stephen had anyreason to regret this change; on the contrary, his mode of life beingbetter regulated, afforded him more enjoyment; the necessity of workinggave value to his amusements; he found more happiness in doing what wasright, when he had experienced the effects of the reverse; and he lovedhis father and sister all the better for their complaisance, when hehad felt their firmness.

  Even Denis himself found his advantage in the reform which hadtaken place at Primini. When life flowed on there so tranquilly andso happily that each seemed to have no other duties than those ofaffection, no occupations but those which were required to pass timeagreeably, there was abundance of room for him, and he could abandonhimself to all the impetuosity of his character; but when misfortuneand time had changed the habits of the family--when all was accordingto rule, and each hour had its employment, each person his work,--whatremained for him but to make up his mind, and be reasonable like theothers? He had no longer any one to torment, and he scarcely regrettedit, for Caroline's patience had at length wearied him of this singularamusement; and if he was sometimes a weight u
pon his cousin, it wasrather from the burthen of his idleness than from any bad intention.But he required society--idle people; when everybody was occupied heknew not what to do with himself. He could not pass the whole of histime in walking, in looking at the haymaking, or in angling; and whenStephen was studying with his father, Caroline at her school, and theservants at their work, he must either lounge about wearily by himself,or find some employment. He resolved one day to try this last plan,fully resolved that if, after six months' trial, he should find it toolaborious, he would resume his old mode of proceeding, and give upbooks for ever. As he had much resolution and strength of character,and would not do things by halves, he gave himself up completely to hisnew project, and voluntarily, without even requiring to be reminded,he every day devoted eight hours to work. At first he found thisinsupportable, and could only console himself for the disgust which heexperienced, by counting the number of days which remained to completehis term of trial; but by degrees his distaste vanished; he perceivedthat there is a vast difference between studying at broken intervals,like a child and from constraint, and in seeking heartily to acquirefresh knowledge. For his special employment he had chosen mathematics,which he had formerly begun to learn, and which would be essential ifhe persisted in his design of entering the naval service; but which hehad, nevertheless, thrown aside and neglected. M. de Manzay offeredhim his assistance, although convinced that his resolution would notbe of long duration, and that he would not persevere even to the termwhich he had prescribed for himself. He was mistaken. Denis, far frombeing discouraged, every day became more attached to his new mode oflife, and the fatal epoch passed without his having remarked it. He wasnow quite decided upon the continuance of his studies; he was eighteenyears of age, and calculated upon employing one more year in preparinghimself to enter the Polytechnic School. These two years of labourand of seclusion, the mere idea of which formerly alarmed him to sucha degree that he was ready to relinquish his desire of entering thenavy, he now scarcely dreaded at all; besides which, he felt that hehad sufficient energy to surmount any unpleasant feelings they mightoccasion. Whenever he again felt any dismay at the prospect, he wouldgo and confide his uneasiness to Caroline, now his best friend, whom heno more thought of teasing than she recollected having been tormentedby him; their childish quarrels were so far from their thoughts, thatthey would have been astonished had they been reminded that only fouryears had intervened since these puerile disputes.

  But if Caroline had forgotten the annoyance which had formerly beengiven her by Denis, this was far from being the case with respect tothe contempt with which she had been treated by Robert; she could notreconcile herself to the idea of his disdainful tone towards her, andthough her own good sense told her that her cousin's censure was justlyfounded, yet she could not sufficiently conquer herself to forgivethe manner in which it was shown. Her imagination always representedRobert, and his intercourse with her, such as she recollected them,and she did not take into consideration, either the change in herself,nor that which must have taken place in her cousin; all the praiseswhich she heard bestowed upon him redoubled her fear at the thoughtof meeting him again, and it was with real dread that she awaited hisapproaching return.

  Robert, on his part, came back full of prejudices against Caroline.With all the self-sufficiency of a young man of twenty, he hadformerly seen only her defects, and he persisted in the opinionwhich he had then formed of her, with an obstinacy which would havebeen unpardonable, if his absence, and the little taste he had forletter-writing, joined to a not ill-founded mistrust of Monsieur deManzay's opinion where his daughter was concerned, had not affordedsome excuse for the error of still seeing, in the Caroline of twenty,the Caroline of fifteen.

  The mutual dislike existing between Robert and Caroline was the more tobe regretted as they were destined to pass their lives near each other.Robert's estate was contiguous to that of Monsieur de Manzay, and itwas with the intention of settling there that he returned from histravels. Decided to enter upon a completely independent career, whichshould allow him the free disposal of his mode of life, he had resolvedto seek in commercial enterprises the means of employing his time andabilities; he determined to convert his chateau into a manufactory, andto add to his position as a landowner that of a merchant. His estate,which was thickly wooded, and, traversed by a river, was exactlysuited for the establishment of an iron factory;--he promised himselfmuch satisfaction in setting it on foot, and superintending it, andcalculated upon being very useful to the country by such a measure.He was not fond of the world, and regretted nothing at Paris but thatbrilliant circulation of intellect which is as natural to it as itsatmosphere. No one can say whence it comes, or whither it goes; who isthe giver, or who the receiver; what will be its influence, or whatmay be its limit: it is enough that it exists, that it spreads itselfaround, that it seizes on all--yes, on all--even on those who deny it,even on those who condemn it. But although Robert was more than any mancapable of appreciating, and of contributing his share to this noblepleasure, he was not disposed to purchase it at the price of a lifeof idleness, equally devoid of results as of aim. Had the state ofhis country opened to him a career in which all his abilities mightbe simultaneously developed, in which activity would have required nosacrifice, but in which his individual progress would have advancedthe public good, he would have given this the preference; but this wasnot possible, and Robert had too much strength of character to supposethat he was exempted from doing that which was good, because he hada glimpse of something better. He felt confident that a time wouldcome, when his wishes might be accomplished, and in the course of along career he looked forward to the promise of a future for himselfand for his country. But the future is in the hands of God alone, andour obligations are attached to the present time; to squander it inthe expectation of the future, is to borrow without knowing whether wehave wherewith to pay, and to expose ourselves to the danger of beingsome day bankrupt. Robert, therefore, not without some hesitation, butwithout regret, fixed on the plan the best suited to his tastes and hisposition, and which offered the best employment for his time, whilstawaiting a more extended career; but he would not enter on his projectlightly, or without acquiring all the knowledge requisite for such anenterprise. It would not satisfy him to be merely a worker on a grandscale; even could he have made it profitable, it would have given himno pleasure; and he was rich enough to entitle him not to considermoney as his sole object. He began, then, by passing two years at thePolytechnic Institution, which he left with a brilliant reputation. Itwas at that period that he spent a short time at Primini, before heset out on the long tour on which he had determined, in order to seevarious countries, and study their manners and institutions; to perfecthimself in living languages; and to examine the different industrialprocesses invented and practised beyond the bounds of his own country,with which it was right that he should be acquainted.

  He thus came back to Puivaux at twenty-five years of age, happy toreturn to his own country, to revisit the scenes of his childhood,and renew his family ties; and the only thing that disturbed him was,the disagreeable recollection which he retained of Caroline. In spiteof his prejudices, she had often presented herself to his mind, andthe remembrance of her caprices could not efface that of her lovelyface, the elegance of her form, and the grace of her movements; thesweet tones of her voice still vibrated on his ears, and often had herepeated to himself that it was a great pity she was so insufferable,for she might have been charming; and then--then--but it must not bethought of, she possessed neither good sense nor good temper, and fromsuch a person what could be hoped for?

  It was rather late, one evening, when Robert arrived at Primini, wherehe was to take up his abode till everything was in order at his ownhouse. He was not yet expected, but the absence of a friend, whom hehad intended to visit by the way, had shortened his journey; and hehad entered the chateau, and made his way to the drawing-room, beforehis coming was even suspected. He was struck by the scene presentedby the persons th
ere assembled. Monsieur de Manzay was reading aloud,Stephen was drawing, Denis copying music, and Caroline working at herembroidery frame. This social employment, this active tranquillity, wasthe more striking from its contrast with the former habits of thosepresent, and its congeniality with his own tastes. He looked on withoutstirring, when Caroline chanced to raise her eyes, and exclaimed, "Itis Robert!" Her voice expressed more surprise than pleasure, and, afterhaving risen hastily, she remained where she was without advancingtowards her cousin. He had already repeatedly embraced his uncle andStephen, and shaken hands with Denis, before she could recover herselfsufficiently to speak; she opened her lips and closed them againwithout uttering a syllable. Robert, on his side, was ill at ease,and it is impossible to say how long their embarrassment might havelasted, if Monsieur de Manzay had not cried out, "Well! what are youboth doing? Are you not glad to see each other again? What are youthinking about?"

  "Will you permit me to embrace you, Caroline?" then said Robert.

  "Permit you!" repeated Monsieur de Manzay; "are you such a simpleton asto ask? I should like to see her refuse, indeed. For I am a terribledespot, as you well know," he added, caressing his daughter, as he ledher towards Robert. They then embraced, but without much pleasure oneither side; and, under the pretext of giving some orders, Carolinespeedily made her escape from the room.

  "My cousin is, then, at the head of your house?" inquired Robert, whenshe was gone.

  "Yes, certainly, and a capital manager she is, I can assure you."

  "I should not have supposed her to be over-gifted with order."

  "Formerly she had little enough; but she is greatly changed; you wouldnot recognise her, my friend."

  "She has at least retained her good looks, and she has done well, forshe is really charming."

  "Why, then, did you stand there like a post before her?"

  "We were not very good friends, formerly, and I was afraid she mightrecollect it. By the way, Denis, how do you agree with Caroline?"

  "With Caroline! how is it possible to do otherwise than agree with her,kind as she is?"

  "Yet you used to be always quarrelling."

  "Oh! that is a long time ago, when I was quite a child; but now, Iwould throw myself into the river to give her pleasure."

  "Or, what would be more to the purpose, you would work for her--as Iimagine this music is destined for her?"

  "Exactly so; but, Robert, do not suppose that I am still the idlefellow I used to be. I have been quite reformed here, and I am going toenter the Polytechnic School."

  "How! you, who spoke of it with such horror?"

  "I tell you that I am quite reformed; for the last four years, nearly,I have been living at Primini, and as everyone here is occupied, Iwas obliged to do like the rest. In the beginning it was exceedinglywearisome, but afterwards I took delight in the exertion, and so doeseveryone. Is it not so, Stephen?"

  "How tall Stephen is grown," said Robert; "he was quite a littlefellow, when I went away."

  "You must remember that five years have passed since then, and manyevents have occurred; but you will have time enough to discover this,my friend, and for the present you must need refreshment and repose.Stephen, go and tell your sister that she had better order supper."

  At this moment, Caroline entered the room.

  "Your apartment is quite ready, Robert," she said; "shall Stephenconduct you to it, or would you rather take supper immediately?"

  "Just as you please, I am quite at your disposal," replied Robert,in a ceremonious manner, corresponding, perfectly, with the extremepoliteness of Caroline.

  They were both of them ill at ease, infinitely more so than they wouldhave been with total strangers, when a little constraint would havebeen natural. In fact, when all is real, there can be no embarrassment.It is by a false position, and not by a difficult one, that we aredisconcerted. The remainder of the evening passed cheerlessly enough.Caroline, who usually diffused life and gaiety over the home circle,was constrained and silent, and took no share in the conversation; hersilence reacted upon Denis, who was accustomed to laugh and jest withher: Robert reproached himself for the constraint and _ennui_ which heseemed to have introduced into the house, and promised himself not toprolong his stay, grieved as he was to find himself like a stranger,and a troublesome stranger, in his own family. Following up his oldprejudices he laid all the blame of his vexation upon Caroline. "Sheis still the same, whatever they may say," thought he to himself;"she yields completely to the fancy of the moment. Because she issorry to see me--yet what harm have I ever done her?--she makes us alluncomfortable, with her intolerable, ill-humoured airs. I perceivenothing of that devotion to others--that self-denial, of which my unclespoke in his letters. However, I never believed in it, and I was right;she is, and she always will be, a spoiled child."

  The next day affairs assumed a different aspect, but Robert was nogreat gainer by the change. Caroline, who had reproached herself formaking the evening pass disagreeably to her father, determined toovercome the awkwardness which she experienced in Robert's presence,and, as far as outward appearances were concerned, she succeeded. Shethrew off the almost gloomy silence of the preceding evening, repliedgaily to the pleasantries of Denis on the subject, and appeared,as usual, serene and amiable; but she found it impossible to be ather ease with Robert. She listened to him with attention, repliedwith gentleness, and even addressed her conversation to him when theopportunity occurred; but it was evident that she did so with effort,and that she laboured under insufferable constraint with him. Robertperceived this clearly, and every day added to his vexation; thisnegative distinction wounded and annoyed him, and he had to encounterit perpetually. If Caroline wanted a strong hand to stretch herembroidery frame, it was to Denis that she applied; if she wished togather a flower that was beyond her reach, she would call Denis to herassistance, even if Robert were close beside her. At table, she mightsometimes forget to help Denis, or attend to Stephen before him, whilsther scrupulous politeness towards Robert marked the distance betweenthem. Treated thus as a stranger, and more wounded by Caroline's politeattention than even by her coldness, Robert found little pleasure atPrimini, and was dissatisfied with his cousin. He felt that their nearrelationship gave him a right to more familiar intercourse, whilsthe forgot that he did nothing to promote it; greatly piqued, andmore grieved than he was aware of, to find himself on such bad termswith Caroline, he took the very way to increase the distance betweenthem; he was reserved and ceremonious in his conduct towards her, yetcaptious, and even ironical. Never did a word of friendly regard dropfrom his lips, but he would often complain; and, too proud to own hisvexation, he veiled it under so much bitterness, that he was completelymisunderstood by Caroline, whose heart, accustomed to the full light oftruth, never suspected simulation, or detected what was feigned.

  As Robert's stay at Primini was prolonged, he was day after day themore grieved at the state of his relations with Caroline; seeing heras he did continually, he could not but acknowledge that she possessedexcellent qualities, great amiability and simplicity of character, andthat she had wonderfully improved since they parted. Although he wasstill far from being acquainted with all her worth, he began to thinkthat it would be very delightful to gain her friendship and possessher confidence, and also to doubt whether he had ever deserved eitherthe one or the other. The remembrance of his former wrongs towards herpresented itself to his mind; he recollected how disagreeable had beenhis manners, how severe his condemnation; he was no longer surprised atthe coldness of Caroline, and asked himself whether, since his arrival,he had taken the proper measures to overcome it. His conscience toldhim that he had not; his regret augmented, and soon assumed the formof self-reproach. He accused himself as the sole cause of all thisvexation, and anxiously sought the means of putting an end to theconstraint which was so painful to both, so distressing to himself. Onemorning, as he was pondering over the subject whilst taking a walk,he heard bursts of laughter, and, approaching, saw Caroline and Denisengaged i
n watering the flowers, and chatting in the most animatedmanner. He joined them, wished them good morning; Caroline resumed hergravity; Denis recollected that it was the hour to begin his studies,and left them. Robert and Caroline remained for some moments withoutspeaking. At last, making an effort, he said, "I have disturbed you,Caroline; I am sorry for it."

  "Why should you think you disturb me, Robert? I can go on watering myflowers whilst you are here."

  "Yes; but you are not laughing as you were just now."

  "I have no longer any inclination to do so."

  "That is the very thing of which I complain; I always interrupt yourmerriment, my dear Caroline; cannot you laugh and chat with me as youdo with Denis?"

  "With you, Robert? Oh, that would be very difficult."

  "And why? Am I not also your cousin?"

  "I do not know you so well as Denis."

  "But yesterday, when the cure introduced his nephew, to whom you werea stranger, you conversed a great deal with him, and appeared to beamused."

  "I am not afraid of M. Julius."

  "Are you, then, afraid of me?"

  "Yes, certainly: you are so extremely severe."

  "Have I found fault with you once since my return?"

  "No; but you do not blame me the less in your own thoughts."

  "Nay, I assure you I think of you very favourably. Besides, my dearCaroline, allowing that we are not always of the same opinion, andthat--pardon my frankness--some of the disadvantages which I formerlyremarked may yet remain from your too indulgent education--you possessso many good qualities, that these slight defects may be easilyoverlooked. I, also, have had my faults, and especially towards you;but, because we are neither of us perfect, need we be other than goodfriends? Forget the past, I entreat you, and give me some portion ofyour regard."

  "With all my heart, Robert," cried Caroline, holding out her handto her cousin, who kissed it affectionately. "Believe me, I was farfrom supposing that you set any value on my affection. I thought youdespised me." And the tears stood in her eyes. "Let us say no moreabout it," she continued, more calmly, "it makes me too unhappy."

  "How good and amiable you are, my dear Caroline; I have been veryunjust."

  "I shall think of it no more. I was so unreasonable five years ago,that I quite understand your thinking me very ridiculous."

  "Yes; but how harsh I was! Oh, I repent it with all my soul! Pardon me,I entreat you."

  "Pardon you! my dear Robert, what a grand word! Must I, in my turn,remind you that you are my cousin, and, above all, my senior; and thatI could not allow myself to talk of pardon to you? Come, let us returnto the house; my father will be delighted to see us on such good terms;for our coldness annoys him, and he scolds me every day--in his way ofscolding, however--for not making myself more agreeable to you." Shetook Robert's offered arm, and they went back to the house chattingfamiliarly.

  This first step once made, a complete change took place in thenature of the relations between Caroline and Robert. They were bothso simple-minded, so truthful, so upright, that as soon as whatmay be called the exterior obstacles which had separated them wereremoved, the most perfect confidence was established between them.There were, besides, so many reasons to bring them together; all theiraffections were directed to the same objects: Robert had no relativesthat were not also those of Caroline; their interests were alike;near neighbours, their exertions were employed for the welfare of thesame persons: the workmen of Robert were the sons, the brothers, thehusbands of Caroline's _protegees_; their opinions agreed, their tasteswere congenial; in a word, everything combined to attract them to eachother, and they could not become intimately acquainted without findinghow exactly they suited each other's tastes. Caroline was never tiredof listening to the accounts which her cousin gave of his travels, orto the development of his ideas, his projects, and his hopes, of whichhe perpetually conversed with her. It was with intense delight that hecontemplated the vivid impressions of so fresh a mind, so youthful aheart; he was surprised by her good sense, enchanted by her gentleness,and was particularly charmed with the seriousness and sincerity whichinduced her to maintain her own opinion with firmness till the momentthat she was convinced of an error, when she would at once abandon it,without any subterfuge or embarrassment.

  The winter arrived, and passed away in this pleasing intercourse. Itslong days afforded Robert the greater opportunity for attaching himselfto Caroline, and gaining her affections. With the return of springhe was to quit Primini, and establish himself at Puivaux. Scarcelysix months ago, he had impatiently longed for this period; a littlelater, he felt that he looked forward to it without eagerness; and nowthat the time approached, he could not contemplate it without dread.However, by frequently grieving over the matter, and thinking howdreary life would appear to him without Caroline, he at last arrivedat the conclusion, that he might render it happy through her means, andthat his cousin might perhaps consent to become his wife: she alreadyshowed so much regard and esteem for him, and placed in him so muchconfidence; might she not bestow on him still more? Why should notCaroline return his love?

  His addresses were not destined to encounter any obstacles; he hadnever been indifferent to Caroline, and had now become extremely dearto her: the certainty of living in his vicinity had already appeared toher a happy destiny; what, then, would it be to live for him, to formhis happiness, and receive from him her own; to be the first objectof his thoughts and pursuits; to find such admirable qualities andsuch noble faculties devoted entirely to her; in a word, to become thewife of a man whom she was proud to call her friend, and congratulatedherself on having for a relative?

  It may easily be imagined that M. de Manzay was not slow in grantinghis consent. He had often dwelt with pleasure on the idea of thisunion, and had never abandoned the hope of seeing it take place.The marriage was celebrated at Montfort by the cure, who had oncethought so ill of Caroline. She was accompanied to the altar by fouryoung couples, M. de Manzay giving the dowry to the girls selected byCaroline from amongst her former pupils, whilst Robert supplied thefunds for their establishment. The bridegrooms were workmen employed athis ironworks, and were to live at Puivaux, whither Robert conductedCaroline the day after the wedding. Her father followed her thither.It was impossible for him to live without her, and he would not detainher from her husband's affairs; but Primini was not neglected. Thisplace, which was destined for Stephen, was on all accounts much lovedby Caroline; she therefore watched over it with the greatest care, andthither her walks were habitually directed. The two chateaux belongedto the same commune, and were situated in the same parish: theirinterests were identical, and the good which was undertaken by Monsieurand Madame de Puivaux was only the continuation of that which had beeneffected by Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Manzay.

  Reed & Pardon, Printers, Paternoster-row, London.