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Her mother's death. Jane's father becomes dissipated. Meekness of her mother. Excursion to the country. Delusive hopes. Death of Madame Phlippon. Effects upon Jane. Recovery of Jane. Character of her mother. Jane's melancholy. She resorts to writing. Development of character. Letter from M. Boismorel. Reply to M. De Boismorel. Translation. Character of M. De Boismorel.
M. Boismorel, husband of the aristocratic lady to whom Jane once paid so disagreeable a visit, called one day at the shop of M. Phlippon, and the proud father could not refrain from showing him some of the writings of Jane.
Jane, who was far from pleased with her reception in the hall, was exceedingly displeased with her reception in the saloon. The pride of the Roman maiden rose in her bosom, and indignantly she exclaimed to herself, "So my grandmother is called Miss in this house!" "I am very glad to see you," continued Madame De Boismorel; "and who is this fine girl? your grand-daughter, I suppose?
Jane contrasted the reception which this illiterate descendant of nobility enjoyed with the reception which her grandmother encountered in the visit to Madame De Boismorel, and it appeared to her that the world was exceedingly unjust, and that the institutions of society were highly absurd. Thus was her mind training for activity in the arena of revolution.
"Yet not deciduous is their fame, Ending where frail existence ends; A sacred temple holds their name The heart of their surviving friends." A friendly correspondence ensued between Jane and M. De Boismorel, which continued through his life. He was a very worthy and intelligent man, and became so much interested in his young friend, that he wished to connect her in marriage with his son.
One morning, the grandmother of Jane, a woman of dignity and cultivated mind, took her to the house of Madame De Boismorel, a lady of noble rank, whose children she had partly educated. It was a great event, and Jane was dressed with the utmost care to visit the aristocratic mansion.
Pray, my dear, are you not a little of a devotee?" "I know my duty to God," replied Jane, "and I endeavor to fulfill it." "That's a good girl," the noble lady rejoined. "You wish to take the veil, do you not?" "I do not know what may be my destination, neither am I at present anxious to conjecture it." "How very sententious!" Madame De Boismorel replied.
Madame De Boismorel, dressed with the most ostentatious display of wealth, was seated upon an ottoman, in stately dignity, employing her fingers with fancy needle-work.
She found the conversation of the old marquises and antiquated dowagers who frequented the salons of Madame De Boismorel more insipid and illiterate than that of the tradespeople who visited her father's shop, and upon whom those nobles looked down with such contempt.
She was very unostentatious and simple in her style of dress, and never, in the slightest degree, affected the mannerism of mindless and heartless fashion. Madame De Boismorel, at one time eulogizing her taste in these respects, remarked, "You do not love feathers, do you, Miss Phlippon? How very different you are from the giddy-headed girls around us!"
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