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Updated: May 2, 2025
It was not an easy matter; my name and person, which everybody involuntarily regarded in the doubtful light of my Paris failure, seemed surrounded by a cloud of mist, which made me unrecognisable even to my old friends. The Olliviers also appeared to receive me with an air of distrust; at any rate, they thought it very strange to see me again so soon in Paris.
I also received an invitation with the Olliviers from the Erard family, at whose house I again met my old friend the widow of Spontini. We spent a rather charming evening there, during which, strange to say, I had to be responsible for the musical entertainment at the piano.
"Martin, what are you thinking of?" "Her Christian name is Olivia," I said, hastily; "she does not belong to the Olliviers at all. It was Tardif's mistake, and very natural. She was born in Australia, I believe." "Of a good family, I hope?" asked Johanna. "There are some persons it would be a disgrace to you to love. What is her other name?" "I don't know," I answered, reluctantly but distinctly.
You need not tell me so, Johanna. And yet, if I could think that Olivia loved me, I would not change with the happiest man alive." "What is her name?" asked Johanna. "One of the Olliviers," answered Captain Carey; "but what Olliviers she belongs to, I don't know. She is one of the prettiest creatures I ever saw." "An Ollivier!" exclaimed Johanna, in her severest accents.
"A common name. Our postmaster's name is Ollivier." "Oh, yes," she answered; "I know several families of Olliviers. I dare say I should know this person if you could tell me her Christian name. Is it Jane, or Martha, or Rachel?" "I don't know," I said; "I did not ask." Should I tell my mother about my mysterious patient? I hesitated for a minute or two. But to what good?
I at once bestirred myself to find this, and thought it my duty to make use of every acquaintance I could call to mind. The Olliviers were not in Paris at the time; Countess d'Agoult was ill, and was also busy arranging her departure for Italy, and unable to receive me.
This salon, which the Olliviers also attended in a friendly way, was crowded for a time by an ever-growing circle. Here an old acquaintance of mine, Malwida von Meysenburg, again came across me, and from that time forth became a close friend for life.
"Tell me all you know about mam'zelle," I said. He had been chary of his knowledge before, but his heart seemed open at this moment. Most hearts are more open at midnight than at any other hour. "There's not much to tell, doctor," he answered. "Her name is Ollivier, as I said to you; but she does not think she is any kin to the Olliviers of Guernsey.
Tardif did not seem to notice my embarrassment. "There are some Olliviers in St. Peter-Port," he said. "Is mam'zelle of the same family? But no, that is not probable." "I have no relations," I answered, "not even in England. I have very few friends, and they are all far away in Australia. I was born there, and lived there till I was seventeen."
She would tell Tardif that her name was Olivia, and he thought only of the Olliviers he knew. It was a mistake that had been of use in checking curiosity, and I did not feel bound to put it right. My mother and Julia appeared to have forgotten my patient in Sark altogether. Olivia! I thought it a very pretty name, and repeated it to myself with its abbreviations, Olive, Livy.
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