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And as Jacqueline could not explain it, and never dreamed that Christophe had a much clearer knowledge of their love than she had herself, she thought him unbearable: she could not understand how Olivier could be so infatuated with such a vulgar, cumbersome friend.
This joke had been kept up till the little lady had reached her ninth year, when it ceased, probably by order of Madame de Nailles, who in matters of propriety was very punctilious. Jacqueline, too, became less familiar than she had been with the man she called "my great painter." Indeed, in her heart of hearts, she cherished a grudge against him.
"Surely you cannot know, as you say. But from where you stand, that is what you are thinking. Jacqueline, confess! If you should speak your mind, it would be, 'Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God, poor coward! Oh, Jacqueline, Mazurier may deceive himself! I speak not for him; but what will you do with your poor Victor, my poor Jacqueline?"
On the twelfth day something occurred which, though it made no noise in the household, had very serious consequences. The effect it produced on Jacqueline was decisive and deplorable. The poor child, after going through all the states of mind endured by those who suffer under unmerited disgrace revolt, indignation, sulkiness, silent obstinacy felt unable to bear it longer.
M. de Cymier listened attentively to such talk, looking and saying the right things, and as he heard more and more about the deplorable condition of M. de Nailles's affairs, he congratulated himself that a prudent presentiment had kept him from asking the hand of Jacqueline.
"Ah! so that is the reason why she asked whether Jacqueline might not stay with her when we go to Italy! She wishes to court her by proxy. But I don't think she will succeed. Monsieur de Cymier has the best chance." "Do you suppose the child suspects " "That he admires her? My dear friend, we have to do with a very sharp sighted young person.
To-morrow, Jacqueline, I give myself up." She uttered a cry, turned, and threw herself into his arms. "To-morrow! O Love!" He bent over her with broken words of self-reproach. She stopped him with her hand against his lips. "No, I am not all unhappy no, you have not broken my heart you have not ruined my life! Don't say it don't think it!
To be "the most picturesque figure in the history of Holland," as she has been called, is distinction indeed; but higher still must surely be that gentleness of character and nobility of soul that, in these days of ours, may be acquired by every girl and boy who reads this romantic story of the Countess Jacqueline, the fair young Lady of Holland. "Who is he? Why do you not know, Catarina mia?
"Just see in what a state you have brought home your poor horses." Jacqueline, pale and trembling, made no answer. M. de Talbrun, as he helped her to dismount, whispered, savagely: "Not a word of this!" At dinner, his wife remarked that some branch must have struck him on the cheek, there was a red mark right across his face like a blow. "We were riding through the woods," he answered, shortly.
Madame de Nailles sprang back a step or two, stretching out her arms as if repelling an apparition, her face was distorted, her head was turned away; then she dropped into the nearest seat and burst into tears. "Mamma! dear little mamma! what is it?" cried Jacqueline, springing forward to kiss her. Madame de Nailles disengaged herself angrily from her embrace.
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