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Updated: May 26, 2025
"She is tired out with her journey, poor little thing; she wants to go to sleep," said Adele. Pierrette was overcome with a sudden and invincible aversion for her two relatives, a feeling that no one had ever before excited in her. Sylvie and the maid took her up to bed in the room where Brigaut afterwards noticed the white cotton curtain.
"I want to live, dear Monsieur Martener; but less for myself than for my grandmother, for my Brigaut, for all of you who will grieve at my death." The first time she went into the garden on a beautiful sunny day in November attended by all the household, Madame Auffray asked her if she was tired. "No, now that I have no sufferings but those God sends I can bear all," she said.
The old people, who were growing less and less fit for business, soon found themselves confronted by an active and capable competitor, against whom they said hard things, all the while doing nothing to defeat him. Major Brigaut, their friend and adviser, died six months after his friend, the younger Madame Lorrain, perhaps of grief, perhaps of his wounds, of which he had received twenty-seven.
Pierrette went where she liked, in a boat on the pond, or roaming the village and the fields with Jacques Brigaut, her comrade, exactly as Paul and Virginia might have done. Petted by everybody, free as air, they gaily chased the joys of childhood.
About one o'clock that night three clear, sharp cries of an owl, wonderfully well imitated, echoed through the square. Pierrette heard them in her feverish sleep; she jumped up, moist with perspiration, opened her window, saw Brigaut, and flung down a ball of silk, to which he fastened a letter.
Whoever had seen the lad as he ran away would have loved the ingenuous chivalry of his most ingenuous feeling. Jacques Brigaut was worthy of Pierrette Lorrain, who was just fifteen. Two children! Pierrette could not keep from crying as she watched his flight in the terror her gesture had conveyed to him. Then she sat down in a shabby armchair placed before a little table above which hung a mirror.
The two signs, the two gestures not denying their friendship but imploring caution alarmed the young Breton. Evidently Pierrette wished him to wait and not attempt to see her; otherwise there was danger, there was peril for her. As she left the church she was able to give him one look, and Brigaut saw that her eyes were full of tears.
"They have killed her!" she said at last, clasping her hands. She fell on her knees which struck sharp blows on the brick-laid floor, making a vow no doubt to Saint Anne d'Auray, the most powerful of the madonnas of Brittany. "A doctor from Paris," she said to Brigaut. "Go and fetch one, Brigaut, go!" She took him by the shoulder and gave him a despotic push to send him from the room.
When the words "Receive these flowers" were sung, a youthful face appeared; a white hand cautiously opened the casement, and a girl made a sign with her head to the singer as he ended with the melancholy thought of the simple verses, "Alas! your fleeting honors will fade as they." "Is it really you, Brigaut?" said the girl, in a low voice. "Yes, Pierrette, yes. I am in Paris.
When Brigaut, the son of her mother's friend the major, and the companion of her childhood, who was learning his trade as a cabinet-maker at Nantes, heard of her departure he offered her the money to pay her way to Paris in the diligence, sixty francs, the total of his pour-boires as an apprentice, slowly amassed, and accepted by Pierrette with the sublime indifference of true affection, showing that in a like case she herself would be affronted by thanks.
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