The Count's Millions [81]
the energy of despair. I should probably still live at Sainte-Marthe now, had it not been for a trivial circumstance. One day I had a quarrel with my most determined enemy, a girl named Anais de Rochecote. I was a thousand times right; and I would not yield. The superior dared not tell me I was wrong. Anais was furious, and wrote I don't know what falsehoods to her mother. Madame de Rochecote thereupon interested the mothers of five or six other pupils in her daughter's quarrel, and one evening these ladies came in a body, and nobly and courageously demanded that the 'bastard' should be expelled. It was impossible, outrageous, monstrous, they declared, that their daughters should be compelled to associate with a girl like me--a nameless girl, who humiliated the other girls with her ill-gotten wealth. The superior tried to take my part; but these ladies declared they would take their daughters from the convent if I were not sent away. There was no help for it: I was sacrificed. Summoned by telegraph, M. de Chalusse hastened to Lyons, and two days later I left Sainte-Marthe with jeers and opprobrious epithets ringing in my ears."
X.
Once before, that very morning, the magistrate had witnessed a display of the virile energy with which misfortune and suffering had endowed this proud but naturally timid girl. But he was none the less surprised at the sudden explosion of hatred which he now beheld; for it was hatred. The way in which Mademoiselle Marguerite's voice had quivered as she pronounced the name of Anais de Rochecote proved, unmistakably, that hers was one of those haughty natures that never forget an insult. All signs of fatigue had now disappeared. She had sprung from her chair, and remembrance of the shameful, cowardly affront she had received had brought a vivid flush to her cheeks and a bright gleam to her eyes.
"This atrocious humiliation happened scarcely a year ago, monsieur," she resumed; "and there is but little left for me to tell you. My expulsion from Sainte-Marthe made M. de Chalusse frantic with indignation. He knew something that I was ignorant of--that Madame de Rochecote, who enacted the part of a severe and implacable censor, was famed for the laxity of her morals. The count's first impulse was to wreak vengeance on my persecutors; for, in spite of his usual coolness, M. de Chalusse had a furious temper at times. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I dissuaded him from challenging General de Rochecote, who was living at the time. However, it now became necessary to make some other arrangements for me. M. de Chalusse offered to find another school, promising to take such precautions as would insure my peace of mind. But I interrupted him before he had spoken a dozen words, declaring I would rather return to the book-binders than chance another such experiment. And what I said I meant. A subterfuge--a fictitious name, for instance--could alone shield me from persecution similar to what I had endured at Sainte-Marthe. But I knew that I was incapable of playing such a part--I felt that I should somehow confess everything. My firmness imparted some resolution to M. de Chalusse. He exclaimed, with an oath, that I was right--that he was weary of all this deception and concealment, and that he would make arrangements to have me near him. 'Yes,' he concluded, embracing me, 'the die is cast, come what may!'
"However, these measures required a certain delay; and, in the meantime, he decided to install me in Paris, which is the only place where one can successfully hide from prying eyes. He purchased a small but convenient house, surrounded by a garden, in the neighborhood of the Luxembourg Palace, and here he installed me, with two old women and a trusty man-servant. As I needed a chaperon, he went in quest of one, and found Madame Leon."
On hearing this name, the magistrate gave the young girl a searching look, as if he hoped to discover what estimate she had formed of the housekeeper's character, as well as what degree of confidence she had granted
X.
Once before, that very morning, the magistrate had witnessed a display of the virile energy with which misfortune and suffering had endowed this proud but naturally timid girl. But he was none the less surprised at the sudden explosion of hatred which he now beheld; for it was hatred. The way in which Mademoiselle Marguerite's voice had quivered as she pronounced the name of Anais de Rochecote proved, unmistakably, that hers was one of those haughty natures that never forget an insult. All signs of fatigue had now disappeared. She had sprung from her chair, and remembrance of the shameful, cowardly affront she had received had brought a vivid flush to her cheeks and a bright gleam to her eyes.
"This atrocious humiliation happened scarcely a year ago, monsieur," she resumed; "and there is but little left for me to tell you. My expulsion from Sainte-Marthe made M. de Chalusse frantic with indignation. He knew something that I was ignorant of--that Madame de Rochecote, who enacted the part of a severe and implacable censor, was famed for the laxity of her morals. The count's first impulse was to wreak vengeance on my persecutors; for, in spite of his usual coolness, M. de Chalusse had a furious temper at times. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I dissuaded him from challenging General de Rochecote, who was living at the time. However, it now became necessary to make some other arrangements for me. M. de Chalusse offered to find another school, promising to take such precautions as would insure my peace of mind. But I interrupted him before he had spoken a dozen words, declaring I would rather return to the book-binders than chance another such experiment. And what I said I meant. A subterfuge--a fictitious name, for instance--could alone shield me from persecution similar to what I had endured at Sainte-Marthe. But I knew that I was incapable of playing such a part--I felt that I should somehow confess everything. My firmness imparted some resolution to M. de Chalusse. He exclaimed, with an oath, that I was right--that he was weary of all this deception and concealment, and that he would make arrangements to have me near him. 'Yes,' he concluded, embracing me, 'the die is cast, come what may!'
"However, these measures required a certain delay; and, in the meantime, he decided to install me in Paris, which is the only place where one can successfully hide from prying eyes. He purchased a small but convenient house, surrounded by a garden, in the neighborhood of the Luxembourg Palace, and here he installed me, with two old women and a trusty man-servant. As I needed a chaperon, he went in quest of one, and found Madame Leon."
On hearing this name, the magistrate gave the young girl a searching look, as if he hoped to discover what estimate she had formed of the housekeeper's character, as well as what degree of confidence she had granted