Valentine Read Online Free PDF

than old age is to youth. But in the midst of his discouragement certain vague and confused impulses had shed a ray or two of hope upon his life. Louise, Madame or Mademoiselle Louise—she was called by both names indifferently—had taken up her abode at Grangeneuve about three weeks before. At first the difference in their ages had kept their acquaintance upon a tranquil, careless footing; certain preconceived ideas unfavorable to Louise, whom Bénédict had not seen for twelve years, speedily vanished in the pure and appealing fascination of intimate intercourse with her. Their tastes, their education, their sympathetic ideas had rapidly brought them together, and Louise, by virtue of her age, her misfortunes and her qualities, had acquired complete ascendancy over her young friend’s mind. But the joys of this intimacy were of short duration. Bénédict, always quick to pass the goal, always eager to deify his admirations, and to poison his pleasures by carrying them to excess, imagined that he was in love with Louise, that she wasthe one woman after his own heart, and that he could not live where she was not. It was the error of a day. The coldness with which Louise received his timid declarations angered more than it grieved him. In his resentment he inwardly accused her of pride and lack of heart. Then he recalled her misfortunes and admitted to himself that she was no less deserving of respect than of compassion. On two or three occasions he was conscious of a rekindling of the impetuous aspirations of a heart too passionate for friendship ; but Louise was able to soothe him. She did not employ to that end the reason which goes astray while splitting hairs; her experience taught her to distrust compassion ; she manifested none for him, and although her heart was by no means disposed to harshness, she resorted to it to effect the young man’s cure. The emotion which Bénédict had displayed during their interview that morning had been, as it were, his last attempt at rebellion. Now he repented of his folly, and, buried in his reflections, he felt, in his ever increasing disquietude, that the time had not come for him to love anybody or anything exclusively.
    Madame Lhéry broke the silence with a trivial remark.
    â€œYou’ll stain your gloves with those flowers,” she said to her daughter. “Pray remember that
madame
said the other day before you : ‘ You can always recognize a woman of the common people in the provinces by her feet and hands.’ She didn’t think, the dear soul, that we might take that to ourselves.”
    â€œOn the contrary, I think she said it expressly for us. Poor mamma, you know Madame de Raimbault very little if you think that she would regret having insulted us.”
    â€œInsulted us!” rejoined Madame Lhéry. “Shemeant to
insult
us ? I’d like to see her do it ! Yes, indeed I would ! Do you suppose I’d stand an insult from anybody, I don’t care who ?”
    â€œStill, we shall have to put up with more than one impertinence so long as we are her farmers. Farmers, always farmers ! when we have an estate at least as good as madame la comtesse’s ! Papa, I won’t let you alone till you’ve got rid of this wretched farm. I don’t like it, I can’t endure it.”
    Père Lhéry shook his head.
    â€œThree thousand francs profit every year is always a good thing to have,” he replied.
    â€œIt would be better to earn three thousand francs less and recover our liberty, enjoy our wealth, free ourselves from the kind of tyranny that that harsh, arrogant woman exercises over us.”
    â€œPsha !” said Madame Lhéry, “ we almost never have dealings with her. Since that unfortunate event she comes to the province every five or six years only. This time she came only on account of her
demoiselle’s
wedding. Who knows that this won’t be the last time ? It’s my