by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER LIII. HAPPINESS.
Marshal Simon has been absent two days. It is eight o'clock in themorning. Dagobert, walking on tip-toe with the greatest caution, so asnot to make the floor creak beneath his tread, crosses the room whichleads to the bedchamber of Rose and Blanche and applies his ear to thedoor of the apartment. With equal caution, Spoil-sport follows exactlythe movements of his master. The countenance of the soldier is uneasyand full of thought. As he approaches the door, he says to himself: "Ihope the dear children heard nothing of what happened in the night! Itwould alarm them, and it is much better that they should not know it atpresent. It might afflict them sadly, poor dears! and they are so gay,so happy, since they feel sure of their father's love for them. Theybore his departure so bravely! I would not for the world that theyshould know of this unfortunate event."
Then as he listened, the soldier resumed: "I hear nothing--and yet theyare always awake so early. Can it be sorrow?"
Dagobert's reflections were here interrupted by two frank, hearty burstsof laughter, from the interior of the bedroom.
"Come! they are not so sad as I thought," said the soldier, breathingmore freely. "Probably they know nothing about it."
Soon, the laughter was again heard with redoubled force, and thesoldier, delighted at this gayety, so rare on the part of "hischildren," was much affected by it: the tears started to his eyes at thethought that the orphans had at length recovered the serenity natural totheir age; then, passing from one emotion to the other, still listeningat the door, with his body leaning forward, and his hands resting onhis knees, Dagobert's lip quivered with an expression of mute joy, and,shaking his head a little, he accompanied with his silent laughter,the increasing hilarity of the young girls. At last, as nothing is socontagious as gayety, and as the worthy soldier was in an ecstasy ofjoy, he finished by laughing aloud with all his might, without knowingwhy, and only because Rose and Blanche were laughing. Spoil-sport hadnever seen his master in such a transport of delight; he looked at himfor a while in deep and silent astonishment, and then began to bark in aquestioning way.
At this well-known sound, the laughter within suddenly ceased, and asweet voice, still trembling with joyous emotion, exclaimed: "Is it you,Spoil-sport, that have come to wake us?" The dog understood what wassaid, wagged his tail, held down his ears, and, approaching close to thedoor, answered the appeal of his young mistress by a kind of friendlygrowl.
"Spoil-sport," said Rose, hardly able to restrain her laughter, "you arevery early this morning."
"Tell us what o'clock it is, if you please, old fellow?" added Blanche.
"Young ladies, it is past eight," said suddenly the gruff voice ofDagobert, accompanying this piece of humor with a loud laugh.
A cry of gay surprise was heard, and then Rose resumed: "Good-morning,Dagobert."
"Good-morning, my children. You are very lazy to-day, I must tell you."
"It is not our fault. Our dear Augustine has not yet been to call us. Weare waiting for her."
"Oh! there it is," said Dagobert to himself, his features once moreassuming an expression of anxiety. Then he returned aloud, in a tone ofsome embarrassment, for the worthy man was no hand at a falsehood: "Mychildren, our companion went out this morning--very early. She is goneto the country--on business--she will not return for some days--so youhad better get up by yourselves for today."
"Our good Madame Augustine!" exclaimed Blanche, with interest. "I hopeit is nothing bad that has made her leave suddenly--eh, Dagobert?"
"No, no--not at all--only business," answered the soldier. "To see oneof her relations."
"Oh, so much the better!" said Rose. "Well, Dagobert, when we call youcan come in."
"I will come back in a quarter of an hour," said the soldier ashe withdrew; and he thought to himself: "I must lecture that foolLoony--for he is so stupid, and so fond of talking, that he will let itall out."
The name of the pretended simpleton will serve as a natural transition,to inform the reader of the cause of the hilarity of the sisters. Theywere laughing at the numberless absurdities of the idiot. The girls roseand dressed themselves, each serving as lady's-maid to the other. Rosehad combed and arranged Blanche's hair; it was now Blanche's turn to dothe same for her sister. Thus occupied, they formed a charming picture.Rose was seated before the dressing-table; her sister, standing behindher, was smoothing her beautiful brown hair. Happy age! so littleremoved from childhood, that present joy instantly obliterates thetraces of past sorrow! But the sisters felt more than joy; it washappiness, deep and unalterable, for their father loved them, and theirhappiness was a delight, and not a pain to him. Assured of the affectionof his children, he, also, thanks to them, no longer feared any grief.To those three beings, thus certain of their mutual love, what was amomentary separation? Having explained this, we shall understandthe innocent gayety of the sisters, notwithstanding their father'sdeparture, and the happy, joyous expression, which now filled withanimation their charming faces, on which the late fading rose had begunonce more to bloom. Their faith in the future gave to their countenancessomething resolute and decisive, which added a degree of piquancy to thebeauty of their enchanting features.
Blanche, in smoothing her sister's hair, let fall the comb, and, as shewas stooping to pick it up, Rose anticipated her, saying: "If it hadbeen broken, we would have put it into the handle-basket."
Then the two laughed merrily at this expression, which reminded them ofan admirable piece of folly on the part of Loony.
The supposed simpleton had broken the handle of a cup, and when thegoverness of the young ladies had reprimanded him for his carelessness,he had answered: "Never mind, madame; I have put it into the handlebasket."
"The handle-basket, what is that?"
"Yes, Madame; it is where I keep all the handles I break off thethings!"
"Dear me!" said Rose, drying her eyes; "how silly it is to laugh at suchfoolishness."
"It is droll," replied Blanche; "how can we help it?"
"All I regret is, that father cannot hear us laugh."
"He was so happy to see us gay!"
"We must write to him to-day, the story of the handle-basket."
"And that of the feather-brush, to show that, according to promise, wekept up our spirits during his absence."
"Write to him, sister? no, he is to write to us, and we are not toanswer his letters."
"True! well then, I have an idea. Let us address letters to him here,Dagobert can put them into the post, and, on his return, our father willread our correspondence."
"That will be charming! What nonsense we will write to him, since hetakes pleasure in it!"
"And we, too, like to amuse ourselves."
"Oh, certainly! father's last words have given us so much courage."
"As I listened to them, I felt quite reconciled to his going."
"When he said to us: 'My children, I will confide in you all I can. Igo to fulfill a sacred duty, and I must be absent for some time; forthough, when I was blind enough to doubt your affection, I could notmake up my mind to leave you, my conscience was by no means tranquil.Grief takes such an effect on us, that I had not the strength to come toa decision, and my days were passed in painful hesitation. But now thatI am certain of your tenderness, all this irresolution has ceased, andI understand how one duty is not to be sacrificed to another, and that Ihave to perform two duties at once, both equally sacred; and this I nowdo with joy, and delight, and courage!'"
"Go on, sister!" cried Blanche, rising to draw nearer to Rose. "I thinkI hear our father when I remember those words, which must console andsupport us during his absence."
"And then our father continued: 'Instead of grieving at my departure,you would rejoice in it, you should be proud and happy. I go to performa good and generous act. Fancy to yourselves, that there is somewhere apoor orphan, oppressed and abandoned by all--and that the father of thatorphan was once my benefactor, and that I had promised him to protecthis son--and that the life of that son is
now in peril--tell me, mychildren; would you regret that I should leave you to fly to the aid ofsuch an orphan?'--"
"'No, no, brave father!' we answered: 'we should not then be yourdaughters!'" continued Rose, with enthusiasm. "Count upon us! We shouldbe indeed unhappy if we thought that our sorrow could deprive thee ofthy courage. Go! and every day we will say to ourselves proudly, 'It wasto perform a great and noble duty that our father left us--we can waitcalmly for his return.'"
"How that idea of duty sustains one, sister!" resumed Rose, with growingenthusiasm. "It gave our father the courage to leave us without regret,and to us the courage to bear his absence gayly!"
"And then, how calm we are now! Those mournful dreams, which seemed toportend such sad events, no longer afflict us."
"I tell you, sister, this time we are really happy once for all."
"And then, do you feel like me? I fancy, that I am stronger and morecourageous and that I could brave every danger."
"I should think so! We are strong enough now. Our father in the midst,you on one side, I on the other--"
"Dagobert in the vanguard, and Spoil-sport in the rear! Then the armywill be complete, and let 'em come on by thousands!" added a gruff, butjovial voice, interrupting the girl, as Dagobert appeared at the halfopen door of the room. It was worth looking at his face, radiant withjoy; for the old fellow had somewhat indiscreetly been listening to theconversation.
"Oh! you were listening, Paul Pry!" said Rose gayly, as she entered theadjoining room with her sister, and both affectionately embraced thesoldier.
"To be sure, I was listening; and I only regretted not to have earsas large as Spoil-sport's! Brave, good girls! that's how I like to seeyou--bold as brass, and saying to care and sorrow: 'Right about face!march! go to the devil!'"
"He will want to make us swear, now," said Rose to her sister, laughingwith all her might.
"Well! now and then, it does no harm," said the soldier; "it relievesand calms one, when if one could not swear by five hundred thousandde--"
"That's enough!" said Rose, covering with her pretty hand the graymoustache, so as to stop Dagobert in his speech. "If Madame Augustineheard you--"
"Our poor governess! so mild and timid," resumed Blanche. "How you wouldfrighten her!"
"Yes," said Dagobert, as he tried to conceal his rising embarrassment;"but she does not hear us. She is gone into the country."
"Good, worthy woman!" replied Blanche, with interest. "She saidsomething of you, which shows her excellent heart."
"Certainly," resumed Rose; "for she said to us, in speaking of you, 'Ah,young ladies! my affection must appear very little, compared with M.Dagobert's. But I feel that I also have the right to devote myself toyou.'"
"No doubt, no doubt! she has a heart of gold," answered Dagobert. Thenhe added to himself, "It's as if they did it on purpose, to bring theconversation back to this poor woman."
"Father made a good choice," continued Rose. "She is the widow of an oldofficer, who was with him in the wars."
"When we were out of spirits," said Blanche, "you should have seen heruneasiness and grief, and how earnestly she set about consoling us."
"I have seen the tears in her eyes when she looked at us," resumed Rose."Oh! she loves us tenderly, and we return her affection. With regard tothat, Dagobert, we have a plan as soon as our father comes back."
"Be quiet, sister!" said Blanche, laughing. "Dagobert will not keep oursecret."
"He!"
"Will you keep it for us, Dagobert?"
"I tell you what," said the soldier, more and more embarrassed; "you hadbetter not tell it to me."
"What! can you keep nothing from Madame Augustine?"
"Ah, Dagobert! Dagobert!" said Blanche, gayly holding up her finger atthe soldier; "I suspect you very much of paying court to our governess."
"I pay court?" said the soldier--and the expression of his face was sorueful, as he pronounced these words, that the two sisters burst outlaughing.
Their hilarity was at its height when the door opened and Loony advancedinto room announcing, with a loud voice, "M. Rodin!" In fact, the Jesuitglided almost imperceptibly into the apartment, as if to take possessionof the ground. Once there, he thought the game his own, and his reptileeyes sparkled with joy. It would be difficult to paint the surprise ofthe two sisters, and the anger of the soldier, at this unexpected visit.
Rushing upon Loony, Dagobert seized him by the collar, and exclaimed:"Who gave you leave to introduce any one here without my permission?"
"Pardon, M. Dagobert!" said Loony, throwing himself on his knees, andclasping his hands with an air of idiotic entreaty.
"Leave the room!--and you too!" added the soldier, with a menacinggesture, as he turned towards Rodin, who had already approached thegirls, with a paternal smile on his countenance.
"I am at your orders, my dear sir," said the priest, humbly; and he madea low bow, but without stirring from the spot.
"Will you go?" cried the soldier to Loony, who was still kneeling, andwho, thanks to the advantages of this position, was able to utter acertain number of words before Dagobert could remove him.
"M. Dagobert," said Loony in a doleful voice, "I beg pardon for bringingup the gentleman without leave; but, alas, my head is turned, because ofthe misfortune that happened to Madame Augustine."
"What misfortune?" cried Rose and Blanche together, as they advancedanxiously towards Loony.
"Will you go?" thundered Dagobert, shaking the servant by the collar, toforce him to rise.
"Speak--speak!" said Blanche, interposing between the soldier and hisprey. "What has happened to Madame Augustine?"
"Oh," shouted Loony, in spite of the cuffs of the soldier. "MadameAugustine was attacked in the night with cholera, and taken--"
He was unable to finish. Dagobert struck him a tremendous blow withhis fist, right on the jaw, and, putting forth his still formidablestrength, the old horse-grenadier lifted him to his legs, and with oneviolent kick bestowed on the lower part of his back, sent him rollinginto the ante chamber.
Then turning to Rodin, with flushed cheek and sparkling eye, Dagobertpointed to the door with an expressive gesture, and said in an angryvoice: "Now, be off with you and that quickly!"
"I must pay my respects another time, my dear sir," said Rodin, as heretired towards the door, bowing to the young girls.