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did not desist from a somewhat disdainful gravity neuil. I have quite overawed him; I have made of bearing. She had come upon the scene with him afraid of me.” a certain part to play; she had got it into her And so, applauding herself for having silenced head that she was to appear before an ill-disposed the batteries of the besieger and put out his fires, judge, who had come expressly to take her mea a smile of satisfied pride hovered around her lips. sure and to weigh her in the balance. So she A moment after she rose to walk around the gararmed herself with Olympian majesty and that den, and Horace hastened to follow her. insolence of beauty which tramples impertinence The Marquis remained alone with Madame under foot, crushes the haughty, and transforms Véretz. He followed the pair of lovers with his Actæons into deer. Although the Marquis's eyes for a little while, as they slowly withdrew politeness was faultless and emphatic, and al- and finally disappeared behind the shrubbery. though he besought her to look favorably upon The spell seemed then to be unloosed. Monsieur him, she remained firm and would not be dis- de Miraval regained his voice, and, turning toarmed. Horace listened to all with great satis- ward Madame Véretz, he exclaimed dramaticalfaction ; he thought his uncle charming, and ly: “No, nothing has ever been created yet more could hardly keep from embracing him. He also beautiful than youth, more divine than love. My thought that Madame Corneuil never had been nephew is a fortunate fellow. I congratulate more beautiful, that the sunlight was brighter him aloud, but I keep my envy to myself.” than ever, that it streamed down upon his happi Madame Véretz rewarded this ejaculation ness, that the air was full of perfume, and that with a gracious smile which signified : “Good old everything in the world went on wonderfully. fellow! we judged you wrongly. How can you Now and then a slight shadow fell like a cloud serve us best?" before his eyes. In reading over that morning 'The more I see them together, Monsieur le the fragments of Manetho, he stumbled upon Marquis,” said she, “the more I am convinced a passage which seemed contradictory to his that they were made for one another. Never favorite argument, which was dear to him as life were two characters better matched : they have itself. At intervals he began to doubt whether the same likes and the same dislikes, the same it really was during the reign of Apepi that Jo- elevated tone of mind, the same scorn of mediocre seph, son of Jacob, came into Egypt; then he ideas and petty calculation, the same disregard reproached himself for his doubt, which came of vulgar interests. They both live in paradise. back to him the next moment. This contradic- Ah! Monsieur le Marquis, only a providential distion grieved him greatly, for he had a great pensation could have brought them together.” regard for Manetho. But when he looked at * Very providential,” said the Marquis, but he Madame Corneuil his soul was at rest again, added, in petto, “A manæuvring mother is the and he fancied he could read in her beautiful surest of all providences.” Then he resumed eyes a proof that the Pharaoh who knew not Jo- aloud : “ After all, what is the aim of it? Hapseph must have been Sethos I., in which case piness. My nephew is right to consider his affecthe Pharaoh who did know him must have been tion only. He can have his paradise, as you call the King Apepi. To be tenderly loved by a it, madame, and all the rest into the bargain ; for beautiful woman makes it easy to believe any- Madame Corneuil-We will not speak of her thing, and all things become possible — Mane- beauty, which is incomparable, but it is impossible tho, Joseph, the King Apepi, and all the rest. to see her or to hear her speak without recogniz
What was passing in the heart of the Mar- ing her to be a most superior woman, the most quis ? To what conquering charm was he the suitable in the world to give a man good counsel, prey ? The fact was, he no longer resembled and to lead him onward, to push him forhimself. He had made an excellent beginning, ward.” and Madame Véretz was delighted with his tales. “ You certainly judge her correctly," answered Little by little his animation grew languid. This Madame Véretz. “ My daughter is a strange man, who was so great a master over his own being; she is full of noble enthusiasm which she thoughts, could no longer control them ; this carries at times to exaltation, and yet she is thorman, so great a master in conversation, really oughly reasonable, very intelligent as regards the was seeking in vain for the proper words. He things of this world, and, at the same time, ice struggled for some time against this strange fas- to her own interests and on fire for others." cination which deprived him of his faculties, but “Only one thing distresses me,” said the it was all in vain. He no longer took part in Marquis to her. “The story-teller advises all the conversation, except in a few loose phrases, happy lovers to roam only to neighboring shores, which were absolutely irrelevant, and soon fell and ours are going to bury their happiness in into a deep reverie and the dullest silence. Memphis or in Thebes. It would be a crime to
“My mother was right,” said Madame Cor- take Madame Corneuil away from Paris.”
“Reassure yourself,” said she; “ Paris will itive woman a full description of his château, have them back again.”
which was doubtless well worth the trouble, only “You do not know my nephew: he has a he seldom visited it. The minute information horror of that perverse and frivolous city. He which he gave respecting his estates and their confided to me yesterday that he means to end revenues was not of such a nature as to chill the his days in Egypt, and assured me that Madame interest which she was beginning to take in him. Corneuil was as much in love as he was with the During all this time, Madame Corneuil strolled solitude and silence of the region of Thebaid. He through a path in the garden with Horace, who appears very gentle, but there never was a per- did not notice that her nerves were greatly exson of more determined will."
cited and that she was somewhat ruffled. There “Heaven help him!” said Madame Véretz, were a great many things which the Count de looking at the Marquis as if she would say, “ My Penneville never noticed. fine friend, there is no will which can hold against " Heavens ! what beautiful weather,” said he ours, and Paris can no more do without us than to her ; “what a beautiful sky, what a beautiful we without Paris.”
sun! Still it is not the sun of Egypt! when shall They have chosen the good part,” continued we see it again ? Oh, thither, thither, let us go,' Monsieur de Miraval with a deep sigh. "I have as says the song of Mignon. You must sing that often laughed at my nephew, blaming him because song to me to-night; no one-sings it like you. he did not know how to enjoy life; now it is his This park never seemed so green to me as now. turn to laugh at me, for I am reduced to envying There is no denying the beauty of green grass, his happiness. There comes an age when one although I can get along wonderfully well withregrets bitterly not having been able to make out it. I once knew a traveler who thought a home for one's self. But you must be aston- Greece horrible because there were so few trees, ished, madame, at my confidences.”
There are people who are wild on the subject of "I am rather flattered by them, than aston- trees. Do you remember our first excursion to ished," answered she.
Gizeh—the vast bare plain, the wavy hills, the "I am devoured by ennui, I must acknowl- ochre-colored sand ? You said, I could eat edge. I had determined to pass the remainder it!' of my days in retirement and in quiet, but ennur “We met a long line of camels; I can see will yet force me out of my den. I shall plunge them now. The pyramids pierced the horizon, and into active political life again. I have been urged they seemed white and sparkling. How they to stand for the arrondissement where my châ- stood out against the sky! They seemed quivteau is situated, and have also been proposed for ering. The air here never quivers. What a the senate. I might go still higher if I were good breakfast we had in that chapel! You married to a woman of sense, intelligent in the wore a tarbouch on your head, and it became things of this world, in spite of her enthusiasms. you like a charm. When shall I see you in a Women are a great means of success in politics. tarbouch again? The turkey was somewhat Would that I had a wife! as the poet says: ‘Have lean, I remember, and I made a great blunder I passed the season of love? Ah! if my heart,' -I let fall the jar which held our Nile-water. etc., etc. I can not remember the rest of it, We laughed at it well, and had to drink our but never mind. Lucky Horace ! thrice happy! wine unmixed. After which we descended into What a vast difference there is between living in the grotto, and I interpreted hieroglyphics to you Egypt with the beloved, and bustling about Paris for the first time. I shall never forget your dein the whirl of politics without the beloved !” light at my telling you that a lute meant hap
Madame Véretz in truth thought the differ- piness, because the sign of happiness was the ence vast, but greatly to the advantage of the harmony of the soul. In the Chinese writings, bustle and the whirl. She could not help think- happiness is represented by a handful of rice. ing, “ It would be perfect if my future son-in-law After that, who could contest the immense supeonly had the tastes and inclinations of his uncle; riority of soul in the genius of the Egyptians there would be nothing more to wish for.” over the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire?”
From that moment, the Marquis de Miraval At last he discovered that Madame Corneuil became a most interesting being to her. She tried made no reply to him; he sought for an explanato reconcile him to his fate, and, as she had a tion, and soon found it. genius for detail and for business, she asked him “How did the Marquis de Miraval impress a great many questions about his electoral arron- you ?” asked he of her with an anxious voice. dissement and his chances of election. The Mar This time she answered. quis, somewhat embarrassed, replied as best he “He is very distingué. He begins stories could. He could not get out of it except by remarkably well, but finishes them poorly. Must changing the subject, and so he gave the inquis- I be sincere?”
him, I will do everything to please you, although “He does not please me much.”
I have always returned the friendship he has “ Did he say anything to offend you?" ex borne for me.” claimed Horace, who was afraid his uncle might “Yes, send him back to his family, who must have been disagreeable while his mind was wan- object to our having him. May he return soon, dering with Manetho and the King Apepi. to tell his stories to them!”
“ He is a man of talent," answered she, “but “But allow me I am his family; he is unI like some soul, and I suspect he has none." married, or rather he has been a widower for
As she spoke these words she fastened her thirty years, and has neither son nor daughter. great brown eyes on the face of the young man; But what do I care for his property ?” he saw a soul in their depths; he might perhaps
At these words Madame Corneuil came out have seen two.
of her rapture, and pricked up her ears like a dog " You must be frank in your turn,” resumed who scents unexpected game. she. “You do not know how to tell a lie, and “His property! You his heir! You never for that I love you a little. You told me that you told me so." were going to write to Madame de Penneville. “And why should I have told you? What is The Marquis is her answer.”
money to us? This is my treasure," added he, “I must say it is so," said he, “ but, if the in trying to get a second kiss, which she wisely whole universe should put itself between you and refused, for one must not be too lavish. me, it would have its trouble for nothing. You “Yes, how base a trifle the whole subject of know that I love and that I adore you."
money is !" said she. “Is the Marquis very rich?" “Your heart, then, is indeed mine, wholly • My mother says that he has two hundred mine?” asked she, with a most bewitching thousand livres' income. He may do what he glance.
chooses with it. Since he does not please you, I “For ever, for ever yours," answered he, with will tell him plainly that I renounce my place as voice half choked.
his heir." They drew near an arbor, the entrance to • It must all be done with propriety,"answered which was narrow. Madame Corneuil went in Madame Corneuil with considerable animation. first, and when Horace joined her she stood mo- “You are fond of him. It would make me tionless before him, gazing at him with a melan- wretched to set you against a relation whom you choly smile. Until that moment she kept him at love." a distance, without allowing him to make any "I would give up all for you," exclaimed he; advances, but now by a sudden impulse she the rest seems so small.” lifted up lips and forehead to him, as if to claim He remained a little longer at her feet; but a kiss. He understood, and yet hardly dared hope to his great grief she made him rise, saying: that he had rightly understood. He hesitated, “Monsieur de Miraval must remark our long but at last touched her lips with his. He felt ill. absence from him. We must be polite." Only once before had he felt the same wild emo Two minutes after she entered the pavilion, tion. It was one day near Thebes, when making whither Horace followed her, and greeted the an excavation, he saw with his eyes—his own eyes Marquis with a tinge of affability which she had --at the bottom of the trench, a great sarcopha- not shown before; but, although she had changed gus of rose-granite. That day, too, he grew faint. her expression and manner, the spell was not
Madame Corneuil sat down ; he fell at her broken, and its effect was even more perceptible. feet, and, with elbows upon the beloved knees, Monsieur de Miraval, after having recovered all he devoured her glances for a while. There was his wits in conversing with Madame Véretz, and only the width of a path between the arbor and giving her all sorts of confidences, was disturbed the lake; they heard the waves whispering to the anew at the appearance of his beautiful enemy. beach. She stammered a few words of love; He replied to all her advances in incoherent she spoke of that joy and mystery which no hu- phrases, and sentences without head or tail, which man tongue can express.
might have fallen from the moon. Soon, as if After a long silence Madame Corneuil said : angry with himself and his undignified weakness,
“Great happiness is always restless and un he rose hastily, and turning toward Madame Véeasy, everything frightens it-it is scared at eve retz with a profound bow, took his leave of her: rything. I implore you, get rid of this diplomate. then, advancing toward Madame Corneuil, he I never liked diplomates. All they can see in looked her full in the eyes, and said to her with the world is prejudice, interest, calculation, and a sort of fierceness in his voice: vanity."
• Madame, I came, I saw, and I have been Your wishes are sacred to me,” said he to conquered.” her, “and, even if I must for ever break with Thereupon he withdrew like one wishing to
get away, and forbade his nephew to accompany “ Ten days—that is a century !” said she; him. It can be easily imagined that after his "but keep your word, or I shall break with departure he was freely discussed. All agreed you.” that his conduct was peculiar; but Madame Vé As he drew away she added, " The next time retz protested that she thought him more charm- you meet Monsieur de Mi val, be distrustful and ing than odd, but Madame Corneuil thought him be shrewd.” more odd than charming. Horace, for his part, “He shrewd !” exclaimed Madame Véretz, tried to explain the eccentricity of his conduct when alone with her daughter ; “you might as by his varying state of health, or by a certain well order him to swim across the lake.” whimsical disposition excusable at his age. He “Is that meant for another epigram?" said acknowledged that he had never seen him so be- Madame Corneuil crossly. fore, but had always known him to be a bon vi Since I adore him as he is," answered the vant, active, of good memory, witty, and easily mother, “what more can you expect ? As for adapting himself to all.
Monsieur de Miraval, you are quite wrong to “There is some mystery about it that you worry yourself on his account. My opinion is, must take pains to clear up," said Madame Cor- that he is entirely won over to our side." neuil to him; and as he looked at his watch and “ It is not mine," answered Madame Corwas about to withdraw—“By the way, lazy boy,” neuil. said she to him, “when are you going to read ' At all events, my dear, we must treat him me the famous fourth chapter of your · History with great tact, for I know from the very best of the Hyksos '? You must remember that authority—" you were to read it some evening with a midnight “You are going to tell me," interrupted Masupper in its honor. We must have that supper dame Corneuil disdainfully, “ that he has an inin Paris. Will it not be delicious ? "
come of two hundred thousand livres, and that At thought of the little private banquet in Horace is his heir. Such base trifles are like afhonor of Apepi, Horace's heart thrilled with de- fairs of state to you.” light and his eyes beamed.
Soon after she said to her mother, “ Then “I will send you nothing until it is worthy of ask Horace to invite him to breakfast with us at you. Give me ten days more."
an early day."
(Conclusion next month.)
. rable, not only by the Peace of Ryswick, Their success was one of the unexpected triwhich saved so great a part of Europe from the umphs which fate has now and then accorded to horrors of war, but also by the earliest appear- literature. As little, in all probability, did the eldance in print of Charles Perrault's “ Cendrillon, er Perrault, grave member of the French Acadou la petite pantoufle de verre.” It was in the emy and erudite defender of modern writers fourth part of the fifth volume of the “Recueil against the claim of the ancients to supremacy, de pièces curieuses et nouvelles,” published at dream of the fame which Cinderella and her the Hague by Adrian Moëtgens, that the narra- companions were to bring to him, as did Charles tive of Cinderella's fortunes, in the form under XII., who in the same eventful year succeeded which it has become familiar to the whole civ- to the throne of Sweden, foresee the ruinous nailized world, first saw the light. In the same ture of the conflict in which he was doomed to eventful year it was a second time introduced to engage with his young brother monarch Peter the public, figuring as one of the eight histories the Great, just then, on ship-building intent, contained in the " Histoires ou contes du temps making his way toward the peaceful dockyards passé,” which professed to be written by the of Holland. “Sieur P. Darmancour”; this “ Sieur” being the author's son, Perrault d’Armancour, a boy then Cinderella's story had doubtless been familiar ten years old, who may possibly have acted as an for centuries to the common people of Europe. intermediate relater between the nurse who told, In the opinion of many critics it had, indeed, and the parent who wrote, the tales which were figured for ages among the heirlooms of human
ity. But Perrault's rendering of the tale natu- widow with one plain daughter. And the new ralized it in the polite world, gave it for cultured mistress of the house grievously ill-treated her circles an attraction which it is never likely to step-daughter, forbidding her to wash her face, lose. The supernatural element plays in it but a or brush her hair, or change her dress. And as subordinate part, for, even without the aid of a she became grimy with ashes, pepel, Mara refairy godmother, the neglected heroine might ceived the nickname of Pepelluga, that is, Cinhave been enabled to go to a ball in disguise, and derella, or Ashypet. Her step-mother also set to win the heart of the hero by the beauty of her her tasks which she could never have done, had features and the smallness of her foot. It is with not“ the cow, which had once been her mother,” human more than with mythological interest that helped her to perform them. When the stepthe story is replete, and therefore it appeals to mother found this out, she gave her husband no human hearts with a force which no lapse of time rest till he promised to put the cow to death. can diminish. Such supernatural machinery as The girl wept bitterly when she heard the sad is introduced, moreover, has a charm for children news, but the cow consoled her, telling her what which older versions of the tale do not possess. she must do. She must not eat of its flesh, and The pumpkin carriage, the rat coachman, the she must carefully collect and bury its bones lizard lackeys, and all the other properties of under a certain stone, and to this burial-place the transformation scene, appeal at once to the she must afterward come, should she find herself imagination and the sense of humor of every be- in need of help. The cow was killed and eaten, holder. In the more archaic forms of the narra- but Mara said she had no appetite and ate none tive there is no intentional grotesqueness. It is of its flesh. And she buried its bones as she had probably because so many of the incidents in the been directed. Some days afterward, her steplife of “Cucendron ” (as she was generally styled mother went to church with her own daughter, at home, “though the younger of her step-sisters, leaving Mara at home to cook the dinner, and to who was not so uncivil as the elder, called her pick up a quantity of corn which had been pur*Cendrillon’") were so natural, that some my- posely strewed about the house, threatening to thologists have attached such importance to the kill her if she had not performed both tasks by final trial by slipper. “ The central interest in the time they came back from church. Mara the popular story of Cinderella,” says Professor was greatly troubled at the sight of the grain, de Gubernatis in his valuable work on “ Zoologi- and fled for help to the cow's grave. There she cal Mythology,” is “the legend of the lost slipper, found an open coffer full of fine raiment, and on and of the prince who tries to find the foot pre- the lid sat two white doves, which said, “ Mara, destined to wear it." But, if the tale be sought choose a dress and go in it to church, and we for in lands less cultured than the France which birds will gather up the grain." So she took the produced Perrault's “Cendrillon” and the Count- robes which came first, all of the finest silk, and ess d'Aulnoy's “ Finette Cendron," we shall see went in them to church, where the beauty of her that “the legend of the lost slipper” is no longer face and her dress won all hearts, especially that of “ central interest," being merely used to supply of the Emperor's son. Just before the service the means of ultimate recognition so valuable in was over, she glided out of church, ran home, ancient days not only to the story-teller but to and placed her robes in the coffer, which immedithe dramatist. Let us take, by way of example, ately shut and disappeared. When her relatives a Servian version of the story :*
returned, they found the grain collected, the dinAs a number of girls were spinning one day ner cooked, and Ashypet as grimy as usual. Next a-field, sitting in a ring around a cleft in the Sunday just the same happened ; only Mara's ground, there came to them an old man, who robes were this time of silver. On the third Sunsaid: “ Maidens, beware! for if one of you were day she went to church in raiment of pure gold to let her spindle fall into this cleft, her mother with slippers to match. And when she left, the would be immediately turned into a cow." There- Emperor's son left too, and hastened after her. upon the girls at once drew nearer to the cleft But all he got for his pains was her right slipper, and inquisitively peeped into it. And the spindle which she dropped in her haste. By means of it of Mara, the fairest of their number, slipped out he at length found her out. In vain did her stepof her hand and fell into the cleft. When she mother, when he walked in with the golden test reached home in the evening, there was her in his hand, hide her under a trough, endeavor to mother turned into a cow, standing in front of force her own daughter's foot into the too small the house and mooing. Thenceforth Mara tend- slipper, and, when this attempt failed, deny that ed and fed that cow with filial affection. But her there was any other girl in the house. For the father married again, taking as his second wife a cock crowed out, “Kikerike! the maiden is under
the trough!" There the prince in truth found ** Vuk Karajich, No. 32.
her, clothed from head to foot in golden attire,