80 EGLANTINE OR instruction up to about the age I have introduced her at, and while possessing all the talents which go to make an excellent governess, she wanted experience —Eglantine’s education being the first over which she had presided—and ’twas she spoiled the child. She did not see at the time all the sad consequences of her over indulgence to her daughter. She did not see Eglantine’s predominant fault (a fault indeed the most difficult to overcome). She flattered herself that as Eglantine advanced in years she would acquire more sense ; she contented herself with reprimanding her from time to time, instead of punishing her and making her feel her error before it was too late to remedy it. However, seeing her daughter’s negligence every day increasing, she thought it would be a good plan to keep a book in which she would write at night everything that Eglantine had lost during the day, with the cost of each article. She did so, and in the list figured torn books, broken playthings, new dresses stained or spoiled in a manner that made them useless, pieces of bread thrown in all corners of the house and garden, etc. Not including lost articles, Doralice found that in one month Eglantine’s negligence cost her about £4. THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 81 At the end of a year she showed her daughter the bill of all she had lost or destroyed during twelve months, and it amounted to more than £50. Eglan- tine, who was then only seven years of age, felt very indifferent about the result of the calculation. Her mother still hoped that she would become more reasonable when she knew better the value of money, and continued her journal with the greatest exactitude. She was aided in her work by the governess, who: each night gave Doralice, on a sheet of paper, a detail of the prodigalities of which she had been wit-: ness. Doralice put all those sheets in a box by them-: selves, without adding them to the journal she was writing. Very soon the memorandums of the gover-: ness became so numerous that the box could hardly contain them. The journal proved that Eglantine’s indolence and extravagance, instead of decreasing, was every) day fast increasing. She often went now to walk in the park, where she lost in four months the, value of £50 in jewelry. One time ‘twas a ring, another a locket, and next a brooch—all this without taking into account the handkerchiefs and gloves for-. gotten on the seats. When winter came her expenses were still greater. Eglantine, like all indolent people, F 82 EGLANTINE OR was always extremely cold. She was constantly at the fire, and invariably let something fall into it. Her dresses were all burned, so that her wardrobe had to be renewed nearly every month. When her masters came to give her her lessons, she frequently complained of headache, and thus excused herself from going to them. ; However, Eglantine was beginning to be no longer a child; she was fast approaching her tenth year. Her mother procured new masters forher. She tired of the piano, not making any progress. She professed to have a distaste for that instrument, and said she would rather learn the harp. Doralice allowed her to give up the piano, which she had been learning for five years, and gave her a harp and engaged a master to teach her. Eglantine was a year learning when her master refused to give her any more lessons on account of her want of application. She next tried the guitar, but with equal success. At last the guitar was. aban- doned as well as harp and piano. Eglantine had still other masters. She was being taught drawing, English, and Italian. She had a- dancing-master, a singing-master, and a writing- master; but the indolent Eglantine knew nothing, and the expense she caused had no bounds.: -Every month THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 83 her music, her books and maps, were all torn, and more had to be bought. She no longer cared for her harp, but left it exposed to the damp in a room where the windows were frequently open. ‘The strings broke, and it had to be restrung. Her expenses were more than six careful people’s would have been. Her excessive indolence rendered unbearable to her any sort of subjection. Through her carelessness the furniture in her room was all destroyed, and had to be renewed once a year. Her hats, nets, etc., were to be found all scattered about the room, and the carpet was covered with pins. Her dresses were all spotted with grease and ink, and though she remained a long time over her toilet, yet she never appeared tastefully dressed. She gazed without seeing, acted without thought, and showed in all she did neither grace nor elegance. Never going to the trouble of putting on her gloves, her hands had become coarse and rude. Her gait was most awkward and disagree- able, as she had always accustomed herself to wear loose slippers. Such was Eglantine at sixteen. Doralice was pleased to buy for her a pretty library, in hopes that she might acquire a taste for reading. In obedience to her mother, Eglantine read for a while in the after- 84 EGLANTINE OR noons, that is to say, she held a book in her hand, but she read with so little attention that it was impossible for her to gain the smallest knowledge. So that even at sixteen she was most inexcusably ignorant. Nothing had been spared on her education, and yet she had little or no knowledge of history, geography, grammar, or orthography. She was equally incompetent ~in writing, and although she had been ten years learning arithmetic, she knew so little about it that a child of seven years could compete with her. About this time a young Viscount named Arzelle begged to be introduced to Doralice. He was about twenty-three years of age, and was as distinguished for his virtues and character as he was for his noble birth. He had both personal and worldly attractions, for he was handsome and rich. He appeared to have a great wish to make himself agreeable to Doralice and to gain her esteem. He liked her simple way of living, her sweetness and equal temper, and could not help admiring her winning manners and her conyersa- tion, which was natural, solid, and interesting. He had met her often at 4 relative’s house, and though he had paid her several yisits, she never introduced him to her daughter, One evening Doralice invited the Viscount to THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 85 supper, and at nine o’clock Eglantine appeared in the drawing-room ; that evening her mother presided over her toilet. Eglantine had nothing very exquisite in her dress; her hair was well arranged, and she had her gloves on. The Viscount seemed struck with her appearance, for she was really a handsome girl, but on observing her closely, he remarked that she had not the manners or grace of a lady ; and at the end of a quarter of an hour, he took no notice of her, and seemed almost to forget her presence in the room. However, he was regular in his visits to Doralice. One day he found her alone, and spoke with such confidence to her that she found courage to ask if he never intended to marry. ‘Yes, madam,’ he replied, ‘ but as my parents have left me at perfect liberty in my choice, I feel I can- not decide so easily. Interest or ambition will never influence me; a blind passion will not make me act foolishly. I wish to marry, not to acquire a large fortune, or to gain a handsome woman, but to be happy ; so my choice will be a person of noble dis- position, who has virtues to correspond, who belongs to a family worthy of respect and love. Her mother, for example, must possess all the qualities which dis- 86 EGLANTINE OR tinguish you, as I would expect her to be the guide of my wife.’ At that moment a visitor was announced, and this put an end to the conversation. A few days after, Doralice learned that the Viscount had charged one of his servants to question her domestics, and that he himself had asked one of her masters to tell him the real truth about Eglantine’s character. He heard, and could not doubt, from what he had seen, that Eglantine profited in no way from the example of such a mother. From that time the Viscount made his visits very rare to Doralice’s house, and soon ceased to go alto- gether. Doralice felt sure he would have married her daughter, if she had had the good fortune to have fewer faults, and this vexed her very much, as she was naturally anxious to have Eglantine well pro- vided for, and she would ‘have preferred to give her to Arzelle above any other. More grief was still reserved for Doralice. Eglan- tine was every day becoming more and more indolent, and this gave her mother new sorrows. At seventeen she was still under the same masters, who should have been finished with her at twelve years of age. She showed no taste for any occupa- THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 87 tion. However, she still retained her good affectionate heart, which knew no change, and she fondly loved her mother, and really often tried to conquer her evil habit ; and when she occasionally did get the better of it, she astonished every one by the amount of in- telligence she possessed. At such times, Doralice’s heart would refill with hope and joy, but this happi- — ness lasted only a very short period, for at the end of a few days Eglantine would again fall into her ordi- nary apathy. She felt her fault, but instead of per- severing against it, she gave way to discouragement. Besides, she never accustomed herself to reflect, and she did not feel all the ingratitude she had to answer for in having so badly repaid the anxious cares of her fond and tender mother ; she only said to herself :-— “Tis true I have caused many useless expenses, but what is spent on me cannot affect much our large fortune ; besides, I am still very young, I am rich, and tis generally said I am handsome. With all these qualities, I surely can pass without education.’ ’Twas exactly as if she had said—‘I can live without showing any gratitude to my mother. What would be the use of making her happy if it cost me any trouble?’ This is how we reason when we are un- accustomed to proper reflection. Eglantine never 88 EGLANTINE OR sought to please or to obtain the-approbation of those who surrounded her. No one in her mother’s house had any affection or consideration for her. The friends and servants looked upon her as a mere child. She was so disobliging and so very insipid that she often said and did many things out of their place. In society she was perfectly tiresome. Any sort of restraint was insupportable to her, and everything seemed a restraint to her. The customs followed and received by society appeared to her tyrannical ; she found politeness troublesome, and did not feel at her ease but with the uneducated. Far from seeking the counsel she so much needed, she shunned it, because she did not feel she had courage and energy enough to follow it. So when her mother pointed out the many faults of which she was the unhappy possessor, she listened with more vexation than repent- ance. These conversations were always followed by a fit of ill-humour, which lasted for days together. She had no command over her temper, and she pre- ferred to bear with her own faults rather than give herself the trouble to adopt means for their correction. Ever since Eglantine was ten years of age she had been allowed money for her own use, but with all that she was always badly dressed, and frequently in debt be- THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 89 side. * She was now drawing near her eighteenth year —a happy epoch to her, for she was then to be released. from further study and lessons. On her birthday her mother went in the morning to Eglantine’s room, and sat beside her for a while. ‘Eglantine,’ said she, ‘you are eighteen years old to-day, and at that age people have generally com- pleted their education. Up to this day I have done all in my power to correct and instruct you, and here is a proof of how you repaid me. This is the journal of which I spoke to you so often ; it contains a detail of all you have lost since your childhood, and all the useless expenses you have occasioned me. I have added to it the list kept by your governess and your waiting-maid, and the amount of all gives a total of fully more than £400 !” ‘Mamma, is that really possible ?’ asked Eglantine. “Tis too true, Eglantine ; and bear well in mind that I have not put down any indispensable expenses. Think what your masters have cost me ;—however, I am glad to see that you write pretty well now—you read music passably. I have not mentioned those two masters in my journal, though I had to keep them many more years teaching you than I should have required to have done had you applied yourself better. go EGLANTINE OR I have not counted either the expense of the mistress I had teaching you fancy work, or the enormous quantity of silk thread and velvet you wasted without having anything to show for it.’ ‘But,’ repeated Eglantine, ‘four hundred pounds! I can’t believe it.’ ‘I told you often, ay, a hundred times, that little expenses often repeated soon make great ones, and in the end, if persisted in, will ruin you. For example: you have had two watches since you were eight years of age, and not a single month passed from then till now without your having to send them to be repaired —at one time a glass was wanted, at another the main-spring, and so on. Every month your watches alone cost six or seven shillings, and sometimes even more, so that at the end of ten years, for that one item alone, the expense has been about forty pounds! It would be wise if you could even now regret money wasted like that, and reflect how much good could have been done with it otherwise. The £400 you have lost, my child,.might have made more than twenty poor families happy in a time of need.’ This last phrase of her mother’s made Eglantine’s tears flow. She took her mother’s hands in her own, and said— THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. gi ‘Oh! mamma, how culpableIam! If I have no talents and no education, I at least know the elements of all I have been taught’ ‘I daresay that, my child ; and if you would only apply yourself seriously, you might yet regain part of the money you have lost; but to do that, you must have more perseverance and activity than you have hitherto displayed. I know well—thanks to your fortune and beauty—that you think you have less need of education than other people ; but is it reason- able, because you possess those fragile and un- certain advantages, that you should disdain the more lasting ones, which, once acquired thoroughly, can seldom be lost or forgotten? Do you really think, Fglantine, that sensible people are to be caught by beauty alone? ’tis soon lost, my: child; a fit of sickness may rob us of it for ever. Can riches make us happy? No. They may contribute to our happi- ness, but the mind must be cultivated to enable us to bear the many ills we are subject to in this world. If your father’s fortune were ruined, what would you be?’ These last words woke Eglantine from her reflec- tions. She looked at her mother with fear. Doralice ceased speaking, lifted her eyes to heaven, and after a few moments’ silence, which Eglantine did not dare 92 EGLANTINE OR to interrupt, rose and went out of the room, leaving her daughter overwhelmed with sadness. The alarms of Eglantine were only too well founded ; for her father had engaged himself in immense specu- lations, and in the end had ruined himself completely. Doralice herself did not even know the full extent of her misfortunes ; but she guessed enough, and this was why she had spoken so seriously to her daughter. Mondor, in the hope of preserving his credit, endea- voured to conceal the real state of his affairs. He had not a mind capable of enduring adversity, and the shock he got brought on a severe fit of sickness, and all the unceasing cares of Doralice and Eglantine could not preserve his life. He expired, cursing ambi- tion, which had been the cause of his ruin and death. Doralice tried everything in her power to satisfy and settle with his creditors, but all the money he had left would not do this. She had in her own right about a thousand pounds, to which the creditors had no claim ; but, to meet the demands on her husband, she gave up the interest for six years of her now only support. Eglantine sold all the jewels she had got from her father and mother in their prosperous days. After making her arrangements, Doralice found she would have to live for the six years on the money she THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 93 got for her jewels and family plate, which were of con- siderable value. ‘We must leave this country, my child, and go to some other, where we can live on what we now have for six years. My intention is to go to Switzerland for that time.’ ‘Oh, my mother, what a remorse for me when I think of all I have cost you !’ ‘Think no more of that now,’ said Doralice, em- bracing her. ‘If I could have foreseen the full extent of our misfortunes, you would never have known anything of the journal of your expenses ; but, Eglantine, I have burned it, and all it contained is for ever effaced from my memory.’ ‘Ah!’ replied Eglantine, falling at her mother’s feet, ‘my-repentance is too real and sincere ever to allow me to forget the faults you have forgiven with so much generosity. I have every desire and hope ~ to repair them and make you happy as long as I live. Oh mamma! a child worthy of you could easily console you in your trials ; I will endeavour to be such a child, and to acquire the many virtues that I so. much need. You require a friend: I will be that; and to obtain so dear a title, there is nothing I will not attempt.’ 94 LEGLANTINE OR No one could paint the emotion of Doralice in contemplating her daughter at her feet bathed in tears. She helped her to rise, and pressed her fondly to her heart. ‘You have made me feel in this moment,’ said she, ‘all that the heart of a mother can desire. Do not grieve any more for our reverse of fortune.’ In saying these words, Doralice could scarcely restrain her tears,—the sweetest, and yet the saddest, she had ever shed. That night Eglantine complained of a violent headache. The next day proved her to have a fever. Her mother sent for the doctor. He came immedi- ately, and after examining her, said she showed all THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 95 the symptoms preceding small-pox. He was not mistaken, for the malady soon developed in a most alarming manner. The doctor did not hide from Doralice that the attack was of the very worst type, and advised her to absent herself as much, as possible from her daughter’s room ; but notwithstand- ing all his precautions, she never left Eglantine’s bed- side. Poor Eglantine became quite delirious, and received the tender cares of her mother without ever knowing who her kind nurse was. Even when she was in her mother’s arms, she would weep bitterly, and say, ‘Madam, my mother has abandoned me, but I have deserved it. I never gave her a moment’s happiness, and now she has left me to die without receiving her benediction. May God forgive me!’ These sad complaints would be muttered between sighs and tears, and they pierced the very soul of her poor afflicted mother. In vain she assured her daughter of her presence ; in vain she bathed her with her tears : Eglantine heeded not. The malady made rapid progress. Her entire body, but particularly her face, was. covered with thick ulcers. Her eyes became sightless ; but this, as an ordinary attendant on small-pox, did not at first alarm the doctor; but as she was remaining in this state much longer 96 EGLANTINE OR than is usual, he began to fear that she had lost her sight for ever. Thus in a few weeks, nay, almost in a few days, poor Eglantine had lost her fortune and her beauty, and now she was in great danger of losing her sight. How true it is that this world’s goods are ever held without anything like security! One day might deprive us of them for ever. All our care should be to acquire, first solid virtue, and then the cultivation of the talents God has given us. All else is but a mere shadow. Doralice remained three days and three nights by the bedside of her daughter, and would not be per- suaded to confide her charge to any one until the fourth day, when the doctor found that the crisis had passed favourably, and pronounced Eglantine out of danger. During that day she opened her eyes and recognised the loving face of the most tender of mothers. ‘Thank God,’ she exclaimed, ‘I see once more my idolized mother.’ Tears checked her utterance, and she could not express the passionate transports of her gratitude but by her weeping. The doctor told her that it was her mother’s untiring care that alone preserved her life. THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 97 ‘Oh my mother!’ said Eglantine, ‘how precious that life is now to me! How sad it would be to lose it before I had ever proved to you my love and grati- tude! I wish to live from this forward only to make you happy.’ Eglantine would have said much more, but the doctor forbade her, fearing that the exertion of speak- ing might bring on a return of the fever. From that day the disease abated, but it had made a terrible ravage on poor Eglantine’s once handsome face. Her fine long hair fell out; and no one seeing "her three weeks before could now have recognised her as the same person. Knowing how much she must have changed, Eglantine never asked to see her face in the mirror ; however, the first day she was out of bed, as her mother was conducting her to an easy- chair in the next room, they had to pass a large look- ing-glass, and Eglantine on perceiving herself could not help trembling, and said— Is that really the hand- some face and figure which were once so much admired 2’ ‘Your regrets, now, my child, will be great indeed if you have had the folly to attach great value to and take any pride out of a beauty so soon gone. An in- stant may rob us of it, but a few years are sure to do it,’ a 98 _ £GLANTINE OR You may perhaps think, my children, that Doralice exaggerated a little in order to console Eglantine, and that it is possible for us to preserve our beauty after youth has gone. But no; beauty cannot exist without youth. When we say that a woman of forty is handsome, we should rather say was handsome ; for theré cannot be real beauty without that brilliancy of colour and freshness of complexion which are ir- reparably lost with mature years, and which can be preserved for any length of time only by exercising the greatest care, and by sometimes sacrificing for it the important duties of life. Compare then, my children, this passing beauty that the slightest malady might wither, and which at most is only lent us for a few years, with that beauty of the soul which is ever with us until we destroy it ourselves. It will be our consola- tion, our guide through life, and will continue our hope beyond the grave. No external beauty can of itself give that noble expression to the eye which so often moves ; the mind and heart must have all to do with it. No, no; Doralice did not exaggerate ; she said with reason that one must be almost deprived of their senses to attach great value to a thing that may be so soon lost for ever. At the same time that Doralice exhorted her THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 99 daughter to bear with resignation the loss she had sustained, she pointed out to her how she could make herself perfectly agreeable by cultivating her talents and adorning her mind. Poor Eglantine was en- lightened by her misfortunes, and was filled with deep gratitude towards her mother; for when she saw her now wholly disfigured face, she thought of all the risk her mother ran in nursing her through such a loathsome disease. She was fully determined now to conquer her faults, to become more reasonable, more active, more worthy in every way of the love of her fond mother. As soon as Eglantine’s health permitted her to travel, Doralice started with her for Switzerland. They left Paris for Lyons, and thence to Geneva. They stopped at Bellegarde to visit what the people of that country call Zhe Wreck of the Rhone. No- thing has a more curious effect than to see this grand river sometimes entirely lost under enormous rocks, in deep caves, and appearing again and rolling rapidly over other rocks, forming splendid waterfalls. This place is surrounded with high mountains, pro- found precipices, and huge rocks all covered with moss. The sight is sufficient to make any one who witnesses it for ever tired of the English gardens, 100 EGLANTINE OR where every art is employed to imitate nature. After passing a few days at Geneva, Doralice took a drive by the delightful borders of the lake with the inten- tion of looking after a house where she might settle down. She at length stopped at Morges, a pretty little town between Geneva and Lausanne, on the borders of the lake, and charmingly situated. Doralice rented a small house in this agreeable retreat. The windows of her sitting-room looked on one side on a splendid fertile country, and the other on the lake of Geneva, with immense mountains covered with snow nearly all the year round as a background. No one who has not seen them can form an idea of these mountains. They exhibit a thousand different aspects in the same day. At day- break their summits and rocks are pink, the snow which covers them having the appearance of trans- parent clouds. As the sun becomes warmer, the colour deepens, and is either grey or violet. At sun- set they are like huge blocks of gold deeply set with different coloured stones. The lake of Geneva presents varieties as remark- able. When calm, the water, pure and limpid, reflects the heavens ; but when agitated, ’tis boister- ous as the roughest sea, producing also the same THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 101 majestic roar. ‘Turn by turn calm and tumultuous, it charms, it astonishes the eye by scenes old yet ever new. Eglantine would often say to her mother, in ecstasies of delight, ‘How insipid everything I have admired up to this appears to me now! How monotonous the boulevards and pleasure-gardens of Paris are, compared with what is now before us!’ ‘T don’t believe, Eglantine, that any poet or painter could attempt to write or paint perfectly the beauties of nature without having first visited Italy or Switzer- land. Louis Backhuysen, a famous Dutch painter, would sit for hours on the beach, when the sea was roughest, trying to catch every change and movement of the waves. ‘Rugendas, a remarkable painter of battles, assisted at the bombardment and taking of Augsburg. Several times he risked his life in order to make a perfect painting of the battle-field) He was often seen in the middle of the fight taking a sketch with as much care as if he were in his studio. ‘Van der Meulen followed Louis xv. through all his conquests, taking sketches of fortified cities and their surroundings, the encampments, the halts, the bivouacs, etc., in order to perfect the pictures which 102 EGLANTINE OR so truly depict the great deeds done by that prince. What courage inspires the heart which possesses the noble desire to distinguish itself through all time! but when we content ourselves to work for the pre- sent moment, we need not the courage nor those TRICHOM “CK Otizm, talents which inspired our forefathers to brave so many dangers.’ Eglantine listened to her mother with the greatest attention. Not very long ago she would have re- mained insensible to the charms _of her conversation, her indolence preventing her from taking anyinterest in it ; but her late misfortunes had produced an alteration in her as sudden as it was astonishing. Her character was altogether changed. She reflected, and took a delight now to converse on interesting and instructive THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 103 subjects with her mother. Besides, she always tried everything in her power to repair the past by her con- duct. She worked with the greatest zeal now to acquire knowledge. She neglected nothing to improve her- self and cultivate her mind. Though she devoted all her time to study, she never felt weary of it, as it amused her and gave her great delight. At first she had no other motive in applying her- self but to please and satisfy her mother, and to prove her gratitude ; but she soon became delighted, and surprised herself at the rapid progress she was making, and found that much pleasure could be gained by the pursuit of learning. Very soon she made up for the time she had lost, by her ardour, her patience, and her untiring application. She acquired a perfect store of solid and superior talents, and this agreeable retreat became more dear to her every day. As two ladies could live almost luxuriously at Morges on £140 a year, Doralice did not feel much her reverse of fortune. She occupied.a very neat little house. The fruit and milk, which she had in abundance, were delicious, and the fish from the lake of Geneva left nothing to be desired. She had also made many acquaintances both in Morges and Lau- sanne. 104 EGLANTINE OR In this happy country, which luxury has not yet - corrupted, you will find that pure simplicity of manners and customs so rarely met with in other places. The women are amiable, educated, and virtuous. Doralice and Eglantine often went to Lausanne to visit a young widow named Isabella, who possessed with great beauty of person many agreeable talents, and a most attractive mind. She became a very dear friend to Doralice and Eglantine, and fre- quently returned to Morges with them. They often went for long walks together, and occasionally took a boat on the lake for a few hours. They knew about fifteen people, with whom they associated and passed many pleasant evenings. When the weather permitted, they would all join in getting up pic-nic parties. Eglantine was the principal ornament of their circle. She was not pretty now, but she made herself so agreeable by her talents and disposition that she was loved by all who knew her. She had preserved her fine figure, the only thing that could now be admired in her person. She did not dress expensively, but with great taste. Her face was full of fine expression, though ’tis true she had lost that beauty which attracts so many. THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 105 They were now more than eighteen months residing at Morges without having gone any further into Switzerland, as they had at first intended. However, as Doralice was anxious to show her daughter as much of the country as she possibly could, she decided to leave her house, also the amiable Isabella. They left about the end of June, and went as far as Berne; a town as remarkable for the regularity of its buildings as for the beauty of its situation. The streets are very long, and separated in the middle by a small stream of clear water. On each side are handsome arcades forming enclosed galleries, and paved with marble. The walks round Berne are delightful and varied. Doralice remained a few days at Berne, visited all the places of interest, and then proceeded to Grindel- wald, about twenty miles further on. Hence they went to Ziirich, where they got introduced to the great poet and painter, Gessner. Where could he write his charming idylls better than in Switzerland, where virtue shows itself in so many different forms? Why are his works so simple and yet so charming ? Why have they been translated into so many lan- guages? ’Tis because the author has /é/¢ what he expresses, and has seen what he paints. He accom- 106 EGLANTINE OR panied Doralice in nearly all her walks ; pointed out to her all the places of interest he had sketched or described in his verses. Doralice admired above all the vine grove where he composed his delightful idyll of Mirtyle. Doralice and Eglantine remained a week with Gessner. They met him in the midst of his family, saw him at his occupations, and he was ever the same mild man—a true philosopher and worthy painter of nature. After an absence of two months, Doralice and her daughter found themselves once more at their house in Morges. Isabella came and passed part of winter with them. Spring had again come round; it was now two years since Doralice had left Paris. Eglantine was nearly twenty, and was the pride and delight of her mother. One evening as they were walking by the lake they met a young man dressed in black ; he walked slowly, and seemed lost in some sad reverie. In passing Doralice he raised his eyes, and started with surprise. . . . Doralice recognised him at once as the Vis- count Arzelle. After the usual compliments were over, he told Doralice that he had just lost his father, THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 104 and.that since his death his residence at Paris had become lonely and tiresome to him—that he was now travelling through Switzerland, where he intended to spend two months, and then go into Italy. As night was approaching, Doralice took the road towards home. The Viscount asked permission to accom- pany her, and offered her his arm. He had saluted Eglantine, but the darkness of the night prevented him noticing the change in her since their last meet- 108 EGLANTINE. ing. They soon arrived at the house. Doralice stopped. ‘What, madam!’ said the Viscount, ‘is this where you live?’ and then he seemed to think of the im- mense fortune that Doralice once had, and of the use she made of it, and that she might now be living in a humbler station in order to clear her husband’s debts. She made him go in and showed him her sitting-room, which was furnished and ornamented with great taste. ‘Every ornament you see in this room,’ said Dora- lice, ‘was done by Eglantine; she worked that otto- man and drew those landscapes.’ The Viscount could not conceal his surprise, which almost amounted to incredulity. He looked at Eglan- tine, and now for the first time saw the sad change in her features. Eglantine smiled, and a deep blush mantled her face; the Viscount scrutinized her with’ great curiosity. He began to get quite interested about her, and could not fail to admire the graceful- ness of her figure, and the expression of her face— esteeming the beauty she had acquired a thousand times better than that which she had lost. Her con- versation surprised him still more—he could hardly persuade himself that she was the same person he had Lie He yy Yi $e i co SSR nl Ke t ‘eth ee? ee —P. 110. Eglantine.sang and played the harp. IIo EGLANTINE OR met before, who was so indolent and rude. He could not conceive how three years had produced such a change. In wishing them good-night, he asked Dora- lice’s permission to renew his visits; and came again the day after, and remained the greater part of it in their company. In the evening they had some music; Eglantine sang and played the harp. The Viscount thought he was dreaming ; he could not make himself believe that the accomplished being who now enchanted him was the Eglantine he knew so utterly ignorant, and whom he would not marry notwithstanding her beauty and large fortune. Every- where he now went Eglantine was spoken of. She had gained every one’s esteem by her graceful man- ners, her sweetness of disposition, and love for her mother. : Arzelle was now two months in Switzerland, and yet he never spoke of going to Italy. He was in Doralice’s society as often as he possibly could. He was timid and reserved before Eglantine, and often could not dare speak, but he listened and observed with an attention which nothing could dissipate. He remained another month at Lausanne, and at length opened his heart to Doralice, asking her daughter's hand in marriage. THE INDOLENT CORRECTED. 111 ‘You deserve to get it,’ said Doralice, ‘for you re- fused my daughter when she was rich and beautiful. You ask her now when she is neither the one nor the other. It must be her mind and virtues that inspire your attachment for her, and I believe in the discre- tion of such alove. However, ’tis sometimes rather difficult to depend on one’s-self. I would wish you to reflect seriously before making an engagement that would fix your and my daughter’s future life. Leave us for six months ; at the expiration of that time, if you come back with the same sentiments, Eglantine is yours.’ At these words the Viscount threw himself at Doralice’s feet and implored her not to retard his happiness. But Doralice was determined, and would not allow his entreaties to influence her, so the Viscount went off in despair the next day. He did not leave Switzerland during the six months, but went about from town to town. When the time of his exile had expired, he hastened back to Morges. One evening Doralice and Eglantine were alone in their sitting-room ; the door opened and the Viscount appeared and presented himself to Doralice. For the first time he spoke his sentiments in Eglantine’s presence. He asked for her hand, and protested he 112 EGLANTINE. would never wish that they should be separated from Doralice. Eglantine said that this was the only condition on which she would become his wife, and the Viscount assured her that so natural a sentiment only made her dearer to him. That night Doralice signed the marriage-contract, and in five days after the Viscount had his greatest wish accomplished in espousing the amiable Eglan- tine. Vo EQULOULE KUGENIE AND LEONCE OR THE BALL DRESS. if ADAME Palmene, though still young, had , Vt been a widow for some years, and devoted herself entirely to the education of her only daughter, who was the sole object of all her cares. When her husband died, he was deeply in debt, and Madame Palmene had to leave Paris and live in Tou- raine, where she possessed some land. The house was very antique and large, and everything around H 114 EUGENIE AND LEONCE and about it showed the noble simplicity of its ancient masters. It was in this old-fashioned dwelling that Eugenie (this is the name of Madame Palmene’s daughter) passed the early years of her life, and here she acquired a great taste for the natural amusements of a retired country life. During the genial spring and summer months she took long walks with her mother. When the days were too hot they would choose the evening for their exercise, and used often to go to a forest, where they rested in the shade and breathed the fresh air. She had for a play-compan- ion the daughter of her governess. ‘This girl’s name was Valentine. She was four years older than Eugenie, and was a very good-hearted. and talented child. She took all her lessons with Eugenie, and had such a winning manner that her young mistress looked on her, and with reason, as a friend. Eugenie was now in her sixteenth year, and was a gay, lively girl, with a well-trained and cultivated mind and an equable disposition. In order to finish Eugenie’s education, her mother determined on taking her to Paris; and so she left her agreeable solitude about the end of September, and went to the capital, where she rented a small villa; Madame Palmene found a great many of her OR THE BALL DRESS. 115 former acquaintances in Paris, amongst them the Count Amilly, a very old friend of her husband’s. He was a widower, and had one son, who was now in his eighteenth year. Leonce was his name, and he had been travelling in Italy and other places for two years. Count Amilly came very often to sup with Madame Palmene. Eugenie always retired to her own room at ten o’clock, and whenever she was absent the count used to tell Madame Palmene how much he admired her daughter’s talents, reserve, and sweetness of disposition. ‘Then he would praise his own son, talking of his courage, his character, and generous heart. They would converse for several hours on their children, and were often astonished that the time passed so quickly. 116 LUGENIE AND LEONCE Count Amilly never explained himself further. However, one day he said, in speaking of his son, ‘Leonce will have a large fortune ; but before I give him possession of it, he must first prove to me that he is qualified to use it properly. When he comes home from his travels he will be twenty years of age. I will then look out for a wife for him with an ami- able disposition, and whose character and graces will make him love and cherish her.’ It was just two years since Madame Palmene came to live in Paris. Eugenie was now nearly eighteen years old. One evening Count Amilly called to see Madame Palmene, and asked permission to introduce his son (who had just returned) to her daughter. A tall, handsome young man then drew near and saluted Madame Palmene. She invited them to remain for supper. Leonce spoke little, but he seemed very much taken up with Eugenie’s manner and appear- ance. The next day the Count and his son came again to visit Madame Palmene. She said that it was not her wish to receive so frequently at her house young men such as Leonce. ‘But, madam,’ said the Count, ‘you must judge if he be a suitable match for your daughter.’ OR THE BALL DRESS. 117 ‘What ! do you mean my daughter to be his wife ? ‘Yes, madam, his and my happiness depend on your answer. They must get time and opportunity to know each other better; and if he is fortunate enough to gain your good opinion, all my wishes will be realized,’ This was plain enough speaking, certainly. Ma- dame Palmene said she felt much flattered at his pre- ference. However, she would hear of no engagement before consulting her child more particularly, and making herself better acquainted with his son’s dis- position. Some time after this the Count asked again for her answer, and, from all that she could see or hear, she did not hésitate to give it in the affirmative ; and so ‘the marriage-contract was signed. In the course of a few days Leonce and Eugenie were married, and left Paris at once for their home, which was situated about ten miles out of the city; and it was decided that they should not come back to the capital until the end of August. Madame Palmene accompanied them, and remained three months, at the end of which time she was obliged to return home to settle some business affairs. 118 EUGENIE AND LEONCE. Nearly two months had now elapsed since Madame Palmene left her daughter. Eugenie never went once to Paris all that time. She became every day dearer to her husband. ‘They often went out for a walk in the woods together. Leonce would tell her of all his travels, and she felt extreme pleasure in listening to his interesting tales. Eugenie often sang for him. She had a soft melodious voice. One evening Eugenie noticed an old man in the fields. She found out that his name was Jerome, and that although he was eighty years of age, he was the only support of a sister who was paralyzed, and of five grandchildren. Eugenie had a great wish to re- lieve this poor old man, but her purse was very limited. Twas true her father-in-law was rich, kind, and noble ; but he wished to teach his son and daugh- ter to know the value, almost the waz, of money before he allowed them to enjoy it. He often said to them, ‘When you prove to me that you know the worthy use of money, I shall leave my purse at your command. In five years, perhaps, if I am sure you will be able to manage money properly, I shall be happy to allow my son to be the free manager of my affairs.’ “You have given me a great fortune in my amiable wife,’ replied Leonce ; ‘I desire no more.’ 118, 1 —P. in the woods together. They often went out for a walk 119 120 ELUGENIE AND LEONCE Eugenie found their income ample enough. She economized in every possible way, and tried to spare a little to give to the poor and needy. Valentine was now on a visit with her, and that night when she came in she told her all about the old man, and begged she would take him some relief the next day. In the morning the Count came to breakfast with them, and brought with him an invitation to a magnificent feast, which was to be given at Paris, in about three weeks from the time of his arrival. ‘I am anxious that you should go, Eugenie,’ said he, ‘and I will provide a ball dress for the occasion.’ In saying this he placed in her hand a purse con- taining fifty sovereigns. When Eugenie was alone she called Valentine and said— ‘Here are fifty pounds my father-in-law gave me to buy a ball dress. I am sure I shall be able to buy one for forty pounds which will be handsome enough, so I will give the other ten to Jerome; but first, Valentine, I would like you to go and find out in the village if all I heard of this poor man is true ; if so, I will myself take the money to him.’ In the afternoon Valentine returned from the OR THE BALL DRESS. 121 village and told Eugenie that she had made every inquiry she could concerning the old man, and that she had even gone to visit the house he lived in, and found the paralyzed sister and the eldest of his grand- Sse SSiouy ase SES Outs children attending her. She was a girl about twelve years of age. The sick woman was in bed and the room seemed very neat and cleanly kept. She also 122 EUGENIE AND LEONCE learned that Jerome was a man very much respected by all the villagers, that he was very honest, and the best brother and grandfather in the whole country. ‘Let us go at once then,’ said Eugenie; ‘I have the purse in my pocket that my father-in-law gave me; let us away and share some of the money with the poor family.’ Eugenie took Valentine’s arm, and both went out, after instructing the servant to tell Leonce, who was engaged in the next room, that they had gone on a short errand and would return soon. They arrived at the field where Jerome usually was working and sought him everywhere about ; but, not being able to find him, they inquired of some of the other workmen if Jerome had not been there to-day. They said yes, but that the dreadful heat of the sun had forced him to retire for a while, and that he had gone to seek a few moments’ repose in the shade, and that they thought he was at the river side under one of the trees. Eugenie and Valentine turned in the direction the workmen told them, and soon perceived the old man asleep and surrounded by his four grandchildren. They approached gently for fear of disturbing him, and stopped a-few moments at a little distance in OR THE BALL DRESS. 123 order to contemplate the interesting group. The good man slept soundly.