CHAPTER XV. THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE.
The few words of sympathy dropped by Bigot in the secret chamber hadfallen like manna on the famine of Caroline's starving affections as sheremained on the sofa, where she had half fallen, pressing her bosom withher hands as if a new-born thought lay there. "I am sure he meant it!"repeated she to herself. "I feel that his words were true, and for themoment his look and tone were those of my happy maiden days in Acadia!I was too proud then of my fancied power, and thought Bigot's lovedeserved the surrender of my very conscience to his keeping. I forgotGod in my love for him; and, alas for me! that now is part of mypunishment! I feel not the sin of loving him! My penitence is notsincere when I can still rejoice in his smile! Woe is me! Bigot! Bigot!unworthy as thou art, I cannot forsake thee! I would willingly die atthy feet, only spurn me not away, nor give to another the love thatbelongs to me, and for which I have paid the price of my immortal soul!"
She relapsed into a train of bitter reflections as her thoughts revertedto herself. Silence had been gradually creeping through the house. Thenoisy debauch was at an end. There were trampings, voices, and footfallsfor a while longer, and then they died away. Everything was stilland silent as the grave. She knew the feast was over and the guestsdeparted; but not whether Bigot had accompanied them.
She sprang up as a low knock came to her door, thinking it was he, cometo bid her adieu. It was with a feeling of disappointment she heard thevoice of Dame Tremblay saying, "My Lady, may I enter?"
Caroline ran her fingers through her disordered hair, pressed herhandkerchief into her eyes, and hastily tried to obliterate every traceof her recent agony. She bade her enter.
Dame Tremblay, shrewd as became the whilom Charming Josephine of LakeBeauport, had a kind heart, nevertheless, under her old-fashionedbodice. She sincerely pitied this young creature who was passing herdays in prayer and her nights in weeping, although she might ratherblame her in secret for not appreciating better the honor of a residenceat Beaumanoir and the friendship of the Intendant.
"I do not think she is prettier than I, when I was the CharmingJosephine!" thought the old dame. "I did not despise Beaumanoir in thosedays, and why should she now? But she will be neither maid nor mistresshere long, I am thinking!" The dame saluted the young lady with greatdeference, and quietly asked if she needed her service.
"Oh! it is you, good dame!"--Caroline answered her own thoughts, ratherthan the question,--"tell me what makes this unusual silence in theChateau?"
"The Intendant and all the guests have gone to the city, my Lady: agreat officer of the Governor's came to summon them. To be sure, notmany of them were fit to go, but after a deal of bathing and dressingthe gentlemen got off. Such a clatter of horsemen as they rode out, Inever heard before, my Lady; you must have heard them even here!"
"Yes, dame!" replied Caroline, "I heard it; and the Intendant, has heaccompanied them?"
"Yes, my Lady; the freshest and foremost cavalier of them all. Wine andlate hours never hurt the Intendant. It is for that I praise him, for heis a gallant gentleman, who knows what politeness is to women."
Caroline shrank a little at the thought expressed by the dame. "Whatcauses you to say that?" asked she.
"I will tell, my Lady! 'Dame Tremblay!' said he, just before he left theChateau. 'Dame Tremblay'--he always calls me that when he is formal,but sometimes when he is merry, he calls me 'Charming Josephine,' inremembrance of my young days, concerning which he has heard flatteringstories, I dare say--"
"In heaven's name! go on, dame!" Caroline, depressed as she was, feltthe dame's garrulity like a pinch on her impatience. "What said theIntendant to you, on leaving the Chateau?"
"Oh, he spoke to me of you quite feelingly--that is, bade me take theutmost care of the poor lady in the secret chamber. I was to give youeverything you wished, and keep off all visitors, if such were your owndesire."
A train of powder does not catch fire from a spark more quickly thanCaroline's imagination from these few words of the old housekeeper. "Didhe say that, good dame? God bless you, and bless him for those words!"Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of his tenderness, which,although half fictitious, she wholly believed.
"Yes, dame," continued she. "It is my most earnest desire to be secludedfrom all visitors. I wish to see no one but yourself. Have you manyvisitors--ladies, I mean--at the Chateau?"
"Oh, yes! the ladies of the city are not likely to forget theinvitations to the balls and dinners of the bachelor Intendant of NewFrance. It is the most fashionable thing in the city, and every ladyis wild to attend them. There is one, the handsomest and gayest of themall, who, they say, would not object even to become the bride of theIntendant."
It was a careless shaft of the old dame's, but it went to the heart ofCaroline. "Who is she, good dame?--pray tell me!"
"Oh, my Lady, I should fear her anger, if she knew what I say! Sheis the most terrible coquette in the city--worshipped by the men, andhated, of course, by the women, who all imitate her in dress and styleas much as they possibly can, because they see it takes! But every womanfears for either husband or lover when Angelique des Meloises is herrival."
"Is that her name? I never heard it before, dame!" remarked Caroline,with a shudder. She felt instinctively that the name was one of direfulomen to herself.
"Pray God you may never have reason to hear it again," replied DameTremblay. "She it was who went to the mansion of Sieur Tourangeau andwith her riding-whip lashed the mark of a red cross upon the forehead ofhis daughter, Cecile, scarring her forever, because she had presumedto smile kindly upon a young officer, a handsome fellow, Le Gardeur deRepentigny--whom any woman might be pardoned for admiring!" added theold dame, with a natural touch of the candor of her youth. "If Angeliquetakes a fancy to the Intendant, it will be dangerous for any other womanto stand in her way!"
Caroline gave a frightened look at the dame's description of a possiblerival in the Intendant's love. "You know more of her, dame! Tell me all!Tell me the worst I have to learn!" pleaded the poor girl.
"The worst, my Lady! I fear no one can tell the worst of Angelique desMeloises,--at least, would not dare to, although I know nothing bad ofher, except that she would like to have all the men to herself, and sospite all the women!"
"But she must regard that young officer with more than common affection,to have acted so savagely to Mademoiselle Tourangeau?" Caroline, witha woman's quickness, had caught at that gleam of hope through thedarkness.
"Oh, yes, my Lady! All Quebec knows that Angelique loves the Seigneurde Repentigny, for nothing is a secret in Quebec if more than oneperson knows it, as I myself well recollect; for when I was the CharmingJosephine, my very whispers were all over the city by the next dinnerhour, and repeated at every table, as gentlemen cracked their almondsand drank their wine in toasts to the Charming Josephine."
"Pshaw! dame! Tell me about the Seigneur de Repentigny! Does Angeliquedes Meloises love him, think you?" Caroline's eyes were fixed like starsupon the dame, awaiting her reply.
"It takes women to read women, they say," replied the dame, "andevery lady in Quebec would swear that Angelique loves the Seigneur deRepentigny; but I know that, if she can, she will marry the Intendant,whom she has fairly bewitched with her wit and beauty, and you know aclever woman can marry any man she pleases, if she only goes the rightway about it: men are such fools!"
Caroline grew faint. Cold drops gathered on her brow. A veil of mistfloated before her eyes. "Water! good dame water!" she articulated,after several efforts.
Dame Tremblay ran, and got her a drink of water and such restorativesas were at hand. The dame was profuse in words of sympathy: she hadgone through life with a light, lively spirit, as became the CharmingJosephine, but never lost the kindly heart that was natural to her.
Caroline rallied from her faintness. "Have you seen what you tell me,dame, or is it but the idle gossip of the city, no truth in it? Oh, sayit is the idle gossip of the city! Francois Bigot is not going to marrythis lady? H
e is not so faithless"--to me, she was about to add, but didnot.
"So faithless to her, she means, poor soul!" soliliquized the dame. "Itis but little you know my gay master if you think he values a promisemade to any woman, except to deceive her! I have seen too many birdsof that feather not to know a hawk, from beak to claw. When I was theCharming Josephine I took the measure of men's professions, and neverwas deceived but once. Men's promises are big as clouds, and as emptyand as unstable!"
"My good dame, I am sure you have a kind heart," said Caroline, in replyto a sympathizing pressure of the hand. "But you do not know, you cannotimagine what injustice you do the Intendant"--Caroline hesitated andblushed--"by mentioning the report of his marriage with that lady. Menspeak untruly of him--"
"My dear Lady, it is what the women say that frightens one! The men areangry, and won't believe it; but the women are jealous, and will believeit even if there be nothing in it! As a faithful servant I ought to haveno eyes to watch my master, but I have not failed to observe that theChevalier Bigot is caught man-fashion, if not husband-fashion, in thesnares of the artful Angelique. But may I speak my real opinion to you,my Lady?"
Caroline was eagerly watching the lips of the garrulous dame. Shestarted, brushed back with a stroke of her hand the thick hair that hadfallen over her ear,--"Oh, speak all your thoughts, good dame! If yournext words were to kill me, speak them!"
"My next words will not harm you, my Lady," said she, with a meaningsmile, "if you will accept the opinion of an old woman, who learned theways of men when she was the Charming Josephine! You must not concludethat because the Chevalier Intendant admires, or even loves Angeliquedes Meloises, he is going to marry her. That is not the fashion ofthese times. Men love beauty, and marry money; love is more plenty thanmatrimony, both at Paris and at Quebec, at Versailles as well as atBeaumanoir or even at Lake Beauport, as I learned to my cost when I wasthe Charming Josephine!"
Caroline blushed crimson at the remark of Dame Tremblay. Her voicequivered with emotion. "It is sin to cheapen love like that, dame! Andyet I know we have sometimes to bury our love in our heart, with no hopeof resurrection."
"Sometimes? Almost always, my Lady! When I was the CharmingJosephine--nay, listen, Lady: my story is instructive." Carolinecomposed herself to hear the dame's recital. "When I was the CharmingJosephine of Lake Beauport I began by believing that men were angelssent for the salvation of us women. I thought that love was a betterpassport than money to lead to matrimony; but I was a fool for my fancy!I had a good score of lovers any day. The gallants praised my beauty,and it was the envy of the city; they flattered me for my wit,--nay,even fought duels for my favor, and called me the Charming Josephine,but not one offered to marry me! At twenty I ran away for love, andwas forsaken. At thirty I married for money, and was rid of all myillusions. At forty I came as housekeeper to Beaumanoir, and havelived here comfortably ever since I know what royal intendants are! OldHocquart wore night-caps in the daytime, took snuff every minute, andjilted a lady in France because she had not the dower of a duchess tomatch his hoards of wealth! The Chevalier Bigot's black eye and jollylaugh draw after him all the girls of the city, but not one will catchhim! Angelique des Meloises is first in his favor, but I see it is asclear as print in the eye of the Intendant that he will never marryher--and you will prevent him, my Lady!"
"I? I prevent him!" exclaimed Caroline in amazement. "Alas! good dame,you little know how lighter than thistledown floating on the wind is myinfluence with the Intendant."
"You do yourself injustice, my Lady. Listen! I never saw a more pityingglance fall from the eye of man than the Intendant cast upon you one daywhen he saw you kneeling in your oratory unconscious of his presence.His lips quivered, and a tear gathered under his thick eyelashes as hesilently withdrew. I heard him mutter a blessing upon you, and cursesupon La Pompadour for coming between him and his heart's desire. I wasa faithful servant and kept my counsel. I could see, however, that theIntendant thought more of the lovely lady of Beaumanoir than of all theambitious demoiselles of Quebec."
Caroline sprang up, and casting off the deep reserve she had maintained,threw her arms round the neck of Dame Tremblay, and half choked withemotion, exclaimed,--
"Is that true? good, dear friend of friends! Did the Chevalier Bigotbless me, and curse La Pompadour for coming between him and his heart'sdesire! His heart's desire! but you do not know--you cannot guess whatthat means, dame?"
"As if I did not know a man's heart's desire! but I am a woman, and canguess! I was not the Charming Josephine for nothing, good Lady!" repliedthe dame, smiling, as the enraptured girl laid her fair, smooth cheekupon that of the old housekeeper.
"And did he look so pityingly as you describe, and bless me as I waspraying, unwitting of his presence?" repeated she, with a look thatsearched the dame through and through.
"He did, my Lady; he looked, just then, as a man looks upon a woman whomhe really loves. I know how men look when they really love us and whenthey only pretend to? No deceiving me!" added she. "When I was theCharming Josephine--"
"Ave Maria!" said Caroline, crossing herself with deep devotion, notheeding the dame's reminiscences of Lake Beauport. "Heaven has heard myprayers! I can die happy!"
"Heaven forbid you should die at all, my Lady! You die? The Intendantloves you. I see it in his face that he will never marry Angelique desMeloises. He may indeed marry a great marchioness with her lap full ofgold and chateaux--that is, if the King commands him: that is how thegrand gentlemen of the Court marry. They wed rank, and love beauty--theheart to one, the hand to another. It would be my way too, were I a manand women so simple as we all are. If a girl cannot marry for love, shewill marry for money; and if not for money, she can always marry forspite--I did, when I was the Charming Josephine!"
"It is a shocking and sinful way, to marry without love!" said Caroline,warmly.
"It is better than no way at all!" replied the dame, regretting herremark when she saw her lady's face flush like crimson. The dame'sopinions were rather the worse for wear in her long journey throughlife, and would not be adopted by a jury of prudes. "When I was theCharming Josephine," continued she, "I had the love of half the gallantsof Quebec, but not one offered his hand. What was I to do? 'Crook afinger, or love and linger,' as they say in Alencon, where I was born?"
"Fie, dame! Don't say such things!" said Caroline, with a shamed,reproving look. "I would think better of the Intendant." Her gratitudeled her to imagine excuses for him. The few words reported to herby Dame Tremblay she repeated with silently moving lips and tenderreiteration. They lingered in her ear like the fugue of a strain ofmusic, sung by a choir of angelic spirits. "Those were his very words,dame?" added she again, repeating them--not for inquiry, but for secretjoy.
"His very words, my Lady! But why should the Royal Intendant not havehis heart's desire as well as that great lady in France? If any one hadforbidden my marrying the poor Sieur Tremblay, for whom I did not caretwo pins, I would have had him for spite--yes, if I had had to marry himas the crows do, on a tree-top!"
"But no one bade you or forbade you, dame! You were happy that no onecame between you and your heart's desire!" replied Caroline.
Dame Tremblay laughed out merrily at the idea. "Poor Giles Tremblay myheart's desire! Listen, Lady, I could no more get that than you could.When I was the Charming Josephine there was but one, out of all myadmirers, whom I really cared for, and he, poor fellow, had a wifealready! So what was I to do? I threw my line at last in utter despair,and out of the troubled sea I drew the Sieur Tremblay, whom I married,and soon put cosily underground with a heavy tombstone on top of him tokeep him down, with this inscription, which you may see for yourself, myLady, if you will, in the churchyard where he lies:
"'Ci git mon Giles, Ah! qu'il est bien, Pour son repos, Et pour le mien!'
"Men are like my Angora tabby: stroke them smoothly and they will purrand rub noses with you; but stroke them the wrong way and whirr! theyscratch your hand
s and out of the window they fly! When I was theCharming--"
"Oh, good dame, thanks! thanks! for the comfort you have given me!"interrupted Caroline, not caring for a fresh reminiscence of theCharming Josephine. "Leave me, I pray. My mind is in a sad tumult. Iwould fain rest. I have much to fear, but something also to hope fornow," she said, leaning back in her chair in deep and quiet thought.
"The Chateau is very still now, my Lady," replied the dame, "theservants are all worn out with long attendance and fast asleep. Let myLady go to her own apartments, which are bright and airy. It will bebetter for her than this dull chamber."
"True, dame!" Caroline rose at the suggestion. "I like not this secretchamber. It suited my sad mood, but now I seem to long for air andsunshine. I will go with you to my own room."
They ascended the winding stair, and Caroline seated herself by thewindow of her own chamber, overlooking the park and gardens of theChateau. The huge, sloping forest upon the mountain side, formed, in thedistance, with the blue sky above it, a landscape of beauty, upon whichher eyes lingered with a sense of freshness and delight.
Dame Tremblay left her to her musings, to go, she said, to rouse up thelazy maids and menservants, to straighten up the confusion of everythingin the Chateau after the late long feast.
On the great stair she encountered M. Froumois, the Intendant's valet,a favorite gossip of the dame's, who used to invite him into her snugparlor, where she regaled him with tea and cake, or, if late in theevening, with wine and nipperkins of Cognac, while he poured into herear stories of the gay life of Paris and the bonnes fortunes of himselfand master--for the valet in plush would have disdained being lesssuccessful among the maids in the servants' hall than his master invelvet in the boudoirs of their mistresses.
M. Froumois accepted the dame's invitation, and the two were presentlyengaged in a melee of gossip over the sayings and doings of fashionablesociety in Quebec.
The dame, holding between her thumb and finger a little china cup of teawell laced, she called it, with Cognac, remarked,--"They fairly run theIntendant down, Froumois: there is not a girl in the city but lacesher boots to distraction since it came out that the Intendant admiresa neat, trim ankle. I had a trim ankle myself when I was the CharmingJosephine, M. Froumois!"
"And you have yet, dame,--if I am a judge," replied Froumois, glancingdown with an air of gallantry.
"And you are accounted a judge--and ought to be a good one, Froumois! Agentleman can't live at court as you have done, and learn nothing ofthe points of a fine woman!" The good dame liked a compliment as well asever she had done at Lake Beauport in her hey-day of youth and beauty.
"Why, no, dame," replied he; "one can't live at Court and learn nothing!We study the points of fine women as we do fine statuary in the galleryof the Louvre, only the living beauties will compel us to see their bestpoints if they have them!" M. Froumois looked very critical as he took apinch from the dame's box, which she held out to him. Her hand and wristwere yet unexceptionable, as he could not help remarking.
"But what think you, really, of our Quebec beauties? Are they not a goodimitation of Versailles?" asked the dame.
"A good imitation! They are the real porcelain! For beauty andaffability Versailles cannot exceed them. So says the Intendant, andso say I!," replied the gay valet. "Why, look you, Dame Tremblay!"continued he, extending his well-ringed fingers, "they do give gentlemenno end of hopes here! We have only to stretch out our ten digits and aladybird will light on every one of them! It was so at Versailles--itis just so here. The ladies in Quebec do know how to appreciate a realgentleman!"
"Yes, that is what makes the ladies of Ville Marie so jealous andangry," replied the dame; "the King's officers and all the great catchesland at Quebec first, when they come out from France, and we take tollof them! We don't let a gentleman of them get up to Ville Marie withouta Quebec engagement tacked to his back, so that all Ville Marie canread it, and die of pure spite! I say we, Froumois; but you understand Ispeak of myself only as the Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport. I mustcontent myself now with telling over my past glories."
"Well dame, I don't know but you are glorious yet! But tell me, what hasgot over my master to-day? Was the unknown lady unkind? Something hasangered him, I am sure!"
"I cannot tell you, Froumois: women's moods are not to be explained,even by themselves." The dame had been sensibly touched by Caroline'sconfidence in her, and she was too loyal to her sex to repeat even toFroumois her recent conversation with Caroline.
They found plenty of other topics, however, and over the tea and Cognacthe dame and valet passed an hour of delightful gossip.
Caroline, left to the solitude of her chamber, sat silently with herhands clasped in her lap. Her thoughts pressed inward upon her. Shelooked out without seeing the fair landscape before her eyes.
Tears and sorrow she had welcomed in a spirit of bitter penitence forher fault in loving one who no longer regarded her. "I do not deserveany man's regard," murmured she, as she laid her soul on the rack ofself-accusation, and wrung its tenderest fibres with the pitiless rigorof a secret inquisitor. She utterly condemned herself while stilltrying to find some excuse for her unworthy lover. At times a coldhalf-persuasion, fluttering like a bird in the snow, came over her thatBigot could not be utterly base. He could not thus forsake one who hadlost all--name, fame, home, and kindred--for his sake! She clung to thefew pitying words spoken by him as a shipwrecked sailor to the plankwhich chance has thrown in his way. It might float her for a few hours,and she was grateful.
Immersed in these reflections, Caroline sat gazing at the clouds, nowtransformed into royal robes of crimson and gold--the gorgeous trainof the sun filled the western horizon. She raised her pale hands to herhead, lifting the mass of dark hair from her temples. The fevered blood,madly coursing, pulsed in her ear like the stroke of a bell.
She remembered a sunset like this on the shores of the Bay of Minas,where the thrush and oriole twittered their even-song before seekingtheir nests, where the foliage of the trees was all ablaze with goldenfire, and a shimmering path of sunlight lay upon the still waters like aglorious bridge leading from themselves to the bright beyond.
On that well-remembered night her heart had yielded to Bigot'spleadings. She had leaned her head upon his bosom, and received the kissand gave the pledge that bound her to him forever.
The sun kept sinking--the forests on the mountain tops burst into abonfire of glory. Shadows went creeping up the hill-sides until thehighest crest alone flamed out as a beacon of hope to her troubled soul.
Suddenly, like a voice from the spirit world, the faint chime of thebells of Charlebourg floated on the evening breeze: it was the Angelus,calling men to prayer and rest from their daily labor. Sweetly the softreverberation floated through the forests, up the hill-sides, by plainand river, entering the open lattices of Chateau and cottage, summoningrich and poor alike to their duty of prayer and praise. It reminded menof the redemption of the world by the divine miracle of the incarnationannounced by Gabriel, the angel of God, to the ear of Mary blessed amongwomen.
The soft bells rang on. Men blessed them, and ceased from their toilsin field and forest. Mothers knelt by the cradle, and uttered the sacredwords with emotions such as only mothers feel. Children knelt by theirmothers, and learned the story of God's pity in appearing upon earth asa little child, to save mankind from their sins. The dark Huron settinghis snares in the forest and the fishers on the shady stream stoodstill. The voyageur sweeping his canoe over the broad river suspendedhis oar as the solemn sound reached him, and he repeated the angel'swords and went on his way with renewed strength.
The sweet bells came like a voice of pity and consolation to the ear ofCaroline. She knelt down, and clasping her hands, repeated the prayer ofmillions,--
"'Ave Maria! gratia plena.'"
She continued kneeling, offering up prayer after prayer for God'sforgiveness, both for herself and for him who had brought her to thispass of sin and misery. "'Mea
culpa! Mea maxima culpa!'" repeated she,bowing herself to the ground. "I am the chief of sinners; who shalldeliver me from this body of sin and afliction?"
The sweet bells kept ringing. They woke reminiscences of voices ofby-gone days. She heard her father's tones, not in anger as he wouldspeak now, but kind and loving as in her days of innocence. She heardher mother, long dead--oh, how happily dead! for she could not die ofsorrow now over her dear child's fall. She heard the voices of the faircompanions of her youth, who would think shame of her now; and amidstthem all, the tones of the persuasive tongue that wooed her maiden love.How changed it all seemed! and yet, as the repetition of two or threenotes of a bar of music brings to recollection the whole melody to whichit belongs, the few kind words of Bigot, spoken that morning, swept allbefore them in a drift of hope. Like a star struggling in the mist thefaint voice of an angel was heard afar off in the darkness.
The ringing of the Angelus went on. Her heart was utterly melted. Hereyes, long parched, as a spent fountain in the burning desert, weresuddenly filled with tears. She felt no longer the agony of the eyesthat cannot weep. The blessed tears flowed quietly as the waters ofShiloh, bringing relief to her poor soul, famishing for one true word ofaffection. Long after the sweet bells ceased their chime Caroline kepton praying for him, and long after the shades of night had fallen overthe Chateau of Beaumanoir.