Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"Because I am immensely rich, must I be married only for my money?

"Am I doomed to the misery of such a marriage, the indifference, contempt, hatred, perhaps, that are sure to follow when a man is mean enough to wed a woman merely for mercenary motives?

"Oh, mother, the thought is so horrible that it haunts me continually. I can not drive it away, strive as I may.

"So I have resolved to escape from it at the cost of a dangerous, perhaps fatal experiment.

"I have been induced to make this resolve because it seemed to be the only means of satisfying my cruel doubts, not only in regard to others, but myself as well. I must know once for all what I really am, and what I really appear to be, independent of my fortune.

"Satisfied on this point, I shall easily be able to distinguish the true from the false. But how am I to ascertain what I am? How am I to discover my precise value, so to speak? Whom can I ask? Who will be frank enough to separate the young girl from the heiress in his valuation?

"Besides, would such a verdict, however severe or kindly it might be, satisfy and reassure me entirely?

"No, I must have the verdict of several disinterested parties.

"But where can I find any such persons? After a great deal of thought, I have decided upon this plan.

"Madame Laîné was telling me about a week ago of some little entertainments that one of her friends gives every Sunday. I have sought and found, this evening, a way to attend one of these reunions in company with my governess, but ostensibly as a relative of hers, a young orphan who supports herself by her daily toil, like all the other young people who compose the company.

"There no one will know me. What they really think of me will be shown conclusively by the reception given me. The rare perfections with which I am endowed – according to those around me – have had such a sudden and irresistible effect, they say, upon them, and upon the husbands they have picked out for me, – in short, I produce such a sensation at all the assemblies I frequent, that I am anxious to see if I shall prove equally irresistible to the young people at Madame Herbaut's modest entertainment.

"If I do not, I shall know that I have been basely deceived, and there is little danger that I shall ever endanger my future happiness by fixing my choice upon either of the suitors attracted solely by cupidity.

"I am also resolved to find some means of escaping the snares that seem to surround me on every side.

"What means I do not know. Alas! alone in the world as I am, in whom can I confide? In whom can I trust?

"In God and in you, my mother. I shall obey all the inspirations you send me, as I obey this, for, strange as it may appear, I cannot divest myself of the idea that this did come from you. At all events, it had its origin in a wise and noble sentiment, – a desire to know the truth, however disheartening it may be.

"So to-morrow, I am resolved to attend the reunion at Madame Herbaut's house."

So the next day, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, having feigned indisposition, and having escaped the assiduous attentions of the Rochaiguës by a firm refusal to admit them to her room, left the house soon after nightfall, accompanied by her governess, and, taking a cab some distance from the mansion, was driven to Madame Herbaut's house.

END OF VOLUME I

Vol. II

CHAPTER I

MADAME HERBAUT'S PARTY

Madame Herbaut occupied quite a spacious suite of apartments on the third floor of the same house in which Commander Bernard lived.

The rooms devoted to these Sunday reunions consisted of the dining-room, where the young people danced to the music of the piano; the drawing-room, where there were card-tables for those who did not care to dance, and, lastly, Madame Herbaut's bedroom, where guests could sit and chat without being disturbed by the noise of the dancing, and without disturbing the card-players.

This simply furnished, but comfortable abode indicated that Madame Herbaut – who, by the way, was the widow of a small merchant – was in very comfortable circumstances, though far from rich.

The worthy woman's two daughters found lucrative employment, one in painting on china, the other in copying music, – work which had led to her acquaintance with Herminie, who also copied music when pupils were scarce.

The rooms presented a scene of even more than usual gaiety that evening. There were about fifteen young girls, none over twenty years of age, all resolved to make the most of Sunday, their only day of rest and pleasure, so richly earned by toil and confinement all the week, either at the counter, in the office, in some gloomy little back shop on the Rue St. Denis or the Rue des Bourdonnais, or perhaps in some pension.

Some of these young girls were extremely pretty, and nearly all were dressed with the good taste that characterises the attire of this humble and industrious class of people only in Paris, probably.

These poor girls, being obliged to work hard all the rest of the week, reserved all their little coquettish adornments for their one fête day, the day so impatiently awaited on Saturday, and so deeply regretted on Monday.

As is usual at such reunions, the masculine element in the little assembly presented a much less elegant and stylish appearance than the feminine element. In fact, but for some almost imperceptible shades of difference, most of these young girls were as bright and attractive as if they belonged to the very best society, but this slight superiority on the part of the young girls was soon forgotten, thanks to the cordial good-humour and frank gaiety, tempered with respect, which the young men displayed towards their fair companions.

Instead of being at its best about one o'clock in the morning, as is generally the case with a fashionable ball, this little assembly reached the very zenith of animation and enjoyment about nine o'clock, as the hostess always sent her guests home relentlessly before midnight, so they would be ready to resume work the next morning at the accustomed hour.

And what a dreary time Monday morning was, with the music and laughter of the night before still ringing in your ears, and the prospect of six long days of close confinement and drudgery before you!

But with what growing impatience and transports of joy you watched the approach of the longed-for day.

It comes at last, and then what exuberant happiness!

Oh, rare and modest joys that have never been impaired by satiety!

But Madame Herbaut's guests were not philosophising much that evening. They were reserving their philosophy for Monday.

These untiring young people were whirling swiftly around the room to the inspiring strains of a lively polka; and such was the magic of the strains that even the ladies and gentlemen in the drawing-room, in spite of their age and the grave preoccupations of Pope Joan and loto, – the only games Madame Herbaut allowed, – moved their heads to and fro and kept time with their feet, in short, executed a sort of antiquated sitting polka, which testified to the skill of the musician at the piano.

And this musician was Herminie.

About a month had passed since her first meeting with Gerald. Had other meetings followed that interview begun under most unpleasant auspices and ending with a gracious forgiveness? We shall know in due time.

This evening, in a dress of some soft, pale blue material that cost, perhaps, twenty sous a yard, and a large bow of ribbon of the same delicate hue in her magnificent golden hair, the duchess was ravishingly beautiful.

A faint rose tint suffused her cheeks, her large blue eyes shone like stars, and her half smiling scarlet lips revealed a row of pearl-white teeth, while her girlish bosom rose and fell gently beneath the thin fabric that veiled it, and her little foot, daintily clad in a satin slipper, beat time to the strains of the lively polka.

To-day there could be no doubt that Herminie was very happy. Far from holding herself aloof from the amusements of her companions, Herminie greatly enjoyed seeing them enjoy themselves, and always did everything in her power to add to their pleasure, but this generosity of feeling would hardly suffice to explain the exuberance of life and youth and happiness which imparted an unusually radiant expression to the enchanting features of the duchess. One somehow felt that this charming creature knew how charming and lovely and refined she was, and that the knowledge made her, not proud, but happy, – happy like those generous possessors of wealth, who prize their wealth chiefly because it enables them to confer happiness on others.

Though the duchess was deeply interested in her polka and the dancers, she turned her head involuntarily several times on hearing the door open, but on seeing the persons who entered, she seemed rather to reproach herself for her inattention to the business in hand.

The door opened again, and again Herminie cast a quick, almost impatient glance in that direction.

The newcomer this time was Olivier, the commander's nephew.

Seeing the young soldier leave the door open as if some one was following him, Herminie blushed slightly, and ventured another glance. But alas! in the doorway behind him there appeared a stout, rosy youth of eighteen, with an honest, artless face, and hands encased in green kid gloves.

It is difficult to say why Herminie seemed a little disappointed on the entrance of this youth, – perhaps it was because she hated green kid gloves, – but the disappointment betrayed itself in a charming pout and in the increasing vivacity of the strains to which her little foot was impatiently beating time.

The polka ended, Herminie, who had been at the piano ever since the beginning of the evening, was immediately surrounded, and thanked and complimented and furthermore invited to dance by a number of the young men, but she filled the souls of the aspirants with despair by pleading a slight lameness as an excuse for not dancing that evening.

And you should have seen the gait Herminie adopted, in support of this atrocious falsehood, decided upon the minute she saw Olivier come in alone! Certainly no wounded dove ever dragged her little pink foot along with a more distressed air.

Inconsolable at this accident which deprived them of the much coveted pleasure of dancing with the duchess, the aspirants, hoping for some compensation, offered their arm to the interesting cripple, but she had the cruelty to prefer the support of Madame Herbaut's eldest daughter, and repaired with her to that lady's room to rest and get a little fresh air, she said, as the windows of that apartment overlooked Commander Bernard's garden.

Herminie had hardly left the room, leaning on Hortense Herbaut's arm, when Mlle. de Beaumesnil arrived, accompanied by Madame Laîné.