Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

Bboul
y, ,i ;
and Rose wond- ndrd to do
h church."
"
but I mean to hear mass at Cere
lock in Ilio morning, iind to \v;ilk al'tcrwani:. BCn
hills to St. Laurent. If you will excuse UK;,
I shall noi
;'or dinner; Bcnoite's mother will give, me something to
felt sad. nnd as she walked to the village church, about
h.ilf a mile from Bclbousquet, a strange sort of depression came
OTOt her, very different from all she had suffered before.
was not satisfied with herself, and yet she hardly knew
that she had cause for self-reproach. The future seemed so in-
ih-iinitc. It almost appeared as if she ou;j.hl to be glad of the
in her destiny. Had she not told her parents, and be-
ii.ived it, that her wish was to remain unmarried and live with
them; and would not Aunt Mode, be glad to get back her child?
But the more she put into shape the prospect before her, the
more her despondency increased. Prayer did not comfort her,
i'or she did not know what to pray for. She had no wishes, and
1 not know how she, ought
to act. Still she felt an insu-
perable dislike to the idea of speaking of George's letter, even to
Aunt Mode. As to her parents, she never could tell them of it.
if the separation took place, they would hear of it from others,
not from her.
heard mass, and listened to the cure's prone, wilh a dull,
weight on her heart. When she returned to the silent
house where she was spending so many hours alone, she caught
herself throughout the day looking somewhat anxiously down
the avenue to watch for George's return and when she heard
his step in the hall, was angry with herself for being pleased he
TV.U come back.
HJ was very tired with his long excursion, said his head ached,
ate little at supper, and soon afterwards went to his room. She
longed to ask him if she could get him anything for his headache,
a cup of strong coffee, cr what in Provence they called an
>n of tea; hut her shyness with him had become so great
Unit she could not bring herself to say even the commonest things
ordinary manner, and she lost the opportunity of showing
him this trifling attention. She did indeed desire Thereson to
1 ask him if he wished for anything. The commission
was executed, but in a very ungracious manner. Thereson not
unnaturally had taken a great dislike to George. She considered
him still in her own mind as afada, and moreover, a very cross
and disagreeable one, and when she locked at Mise Rose's sad,
-i! countenance, the diminution of her bloom, and the
mlng. She dreaded the thought of it, but still longed for
iiiug to break the sort of spell that seemed to hang over
her.
These musings were interrupted by the loud barking of
ig. She raised her head, whicli had been resting on
both her hands, and looked eagerly at the road. Perhaps some
one was arriving. No! but there was Benoite standing near the
gate with a great load of grass on her herd. She was vainly trying
to collect together her scattered goals, frightened by Wasp's
harking they were' rushing about in every direction. The child
laiddoun her burthen, and running after the terrified animals
[ tli-m
one afier another and drove them into the stable.
the h -up of gra^s on her head, but
lesa witli (lie efforts she had made to re-
:! flock, twice she failed in her attempt to raise it,
her feet
.0 arrived at that moment, and seeing the little girl's dis-
1 and
!"r to lift up the load and to balance it <
they continued to conv.
.id a few words to her
.ir what they said, bul she watched their countenances and
,:-|>n.,cd to sec thai when they came into the garden, they
still went on talking.
The child stood leaning against u maple tree, and George, lean-
ing on his gun, stood listening to her chattering with evident
interest and pleasure. Once or twice he smiled kindly as he
spoke to the child, and that smile on his pale, melancholy face
was like a ray of sunshine on a sad landscape. Rose was struck
with the expression which that smile gave to his countenance.
She had, strange to say, never looked attentively at George till
then. Before their wedding (lay, aversion, and, since she n
his letter, an unconquerable shyness, had prevented her from
fixing her eyes upon him. For the first time she was looking at
him without fear of being seen, and as he stood there talking
with Benoite, she watched him with intense attention.
It struck her that his features were regular and refined, his
hands white and well-shaped, and his figure graceful.
" If he was more like other people," she thought, " he would
be very handsome." At that moment Thereson came into the
room, and observing that her young mistress was noticing the
conversation going on in the garden, she said
" Ah! there is 51. le Baron talking again to Benoite."
" Oh, he takes notice of her, does he? " Rose said, trying
to look indifferent.
"Oh, dear, yes! M. le Baron, who has not a word to throw
to a clog in this house, often favors Benoite with his society."
"
I wonder what she can be telling him that seems to interest
him so much? "
"
Oh, for that matter, 1 suppose like takes to like. She is a
queer wild imp whom nobody would care to talk to but a ...
I mean a sort of gentleman like M. le Baron. She is half crazj,
is Beuoite. You never knew such a head as that child has got.
Always full of ideas without head or tail, which she strings to-
gether and makes songs of, and then she speaks of flowers as if
they were people and of birds as if they were Christians; and
she is as obstinate and as perverse as a wild cat. And there was
M. le Baron yesterday telling her a tale about fairies, and show-
ing her some shells. I don't know where he got them from. I
declare it can only be the
who could tame her."
likes of such a little savage as that
Thereson, working herself up to a state of indignation, was on
the point of giving vent to all the anger with which she was
bursting against George de Vedelles, but Rose cut her short, and
said in a dry manner
"That will do. It is not your business to criticise what 31.
de Vedelles does."
black hue under her eyes, she often felt a strong rising desire to
me bodily harm to 11. le Baron, which word she always
pronounced with intense contempt, or at any rate to give him a
peace of her mind.
Two or three days later, Rose was sitting at the window of
her bed-room, whicli looked on the road, wondering whether
any one would come to see her that 'Oh,
day. She expected her
mother's visit on the following Thursdiy, that had been agreed
upon when she left home, but Aunt Medc or her father might
if madame is satisfied with the life that she leads here, I
have nothing to say against it," and Thereson folded her hands
in an attitude of resignation.
Rose, to change the "
subject, asked : What is that case I saw
Simon and the wagoner carrying up stairs yester
" Does not madame know? It comes from Pans and was sent
to La Pinede. M. Vincent sent it on here. jr. le Baron had it
opened early this morning, and spent some .ing out the
hooks that were in it. The floor of his room is covered wilh
them. Such a mess as it is in! All the straw and brown paper
and string thrown about. Did not madame hear the noise he
made stamping up and down whilst he unpacked them? "
"
No, I slept very late; I had a bad night, and felt tired."
"lam sure I don't wonder at that, or at your looking ill,
Mise Rose."
"
I am not ill; the air of this place is very healthy."
" The air indeed, oh, I dare say; I am not talking of the air."
"I think you had better go and look after the dinner now.
M. de Vedelles is coming in."