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Updated: June 23, 2025
I've got a lot of business with that rat." Joe's sinister black eyes held Laure's in spite of her effort to avoid them; it was plain that he wished to say more, but hesitated. "Maybe it would pay us to get acquainted," he finally suggested. "Frank and me and the Count are having a bottle of wine upstairs. Better join us." "I will," said Laure, after a moment.
"I am thinking," said Mère Giraud with some importance of manner, "I am thinking of going to Paris." "To Paris!" "I am anxious," shaking her head seriously. "I had last night a bad dream. I wish to see Laure." Then she turned and looked at Jeanne almost wistfully. "It is a long time since I have seen her," she said. "Yes," answered Jeanne in a little doubt; "but Paris is a long way off."
He lost confidence; his beautiful reading began to decline in pathos and interest; and when at last he finished, and, glancing at the downcast faces round him, found that even Laure could not look up at him with a smile of congratulation, he felt a chill at his heart, and knew that he had not triumphed after all.
No one before had read his soul so clearly. No one not even his devoted sister, Laure de Surville had judged his work so wisely, had come so closely to his deepest feeling. He read the letter over and over, and presently another came, full of critical appreciation, and of wholesome, tonic, frank, friendly words of cheer.
"Where is Valentin?" But Mère Giraud did not know. It was not Valentin she cared to see. Valentin could wait, since she had, her Laure. She sat down beside her in one of the velvet chairs, and she held the fair hand in her own. It was covered with jewels, but she did not notice them; her affection only told her that it was cold and tremulous. "You are not well, Laure?" she said.
Then they sneered and with sparkling eyes they compared notes about the table d'hote in the Rue des Martyrs, where big Laure Piedefer ran a dinner at three francs a head for little women in difficulties. A nice hole, where all the little women used to kiss Laure on the lips!
"Citizen Pollet" button-holed him in August 1822 and induced him to sign an agreement binding him to deliver a couple of these stories by the 1st of October. Six hundred francs were paid cash down, and the rest in deferred bills. The second of the couple was the Curate of the Ardennes, which Laure helped him to write.
Laure was rich, and beautiful as ever; her husband adored her, and showered gifts and luxuries upon her; she had equipages and jewels; she wore velvet and satin and lace every day; she was a great lady, and had a house like a palace. Laure herself did not say so much. In her secret heart, Mère Giraud often longed for more, but she was a discreet and farseeing woman. "What would you?" she said.
Her heart has grown to the old place she bore her children in, and she has herself said to me most sensibly: 'Laure is young, and will learn easily the ways of the great world; I am old, and cannot; I am better at home among my neighbors. Doubtless, however, In course of time she will pay Madame Legrand a visit at her home in Paris, or at the château which Monsieur Legrand of course possesses, as the rich and aristocratic always do."
So she trusted Laure to him, and the two bade farewell to St. Croix and departed together. A month passed, and then there came a letter containing good news. Valentin was doing well, and Laure also. She had found a place in a great family where she was to embroider and wait upon a young lady. They were rich people, and were kind, and paid her well, and she was happy.
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