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Updated: May 27, 2025
She was in the Rue Toulouse, looking from one side to the other for a bank which was not in that street at all, when she noticed a small sign hanging above a door, bearing the name "Vignevielle." She looked in.
There har nod one poss'bil'ty fo' me to be dad guardian of you' daughteh!" Madame Delphine started with surprise and alarm. "There is ondly one wad can be," he continued. "But oo, Miché?" "God." "Ah, Miché Vignevielle " She looked at him appealingly. "I don' goin' to dizzerd you, Madame Carraze," he said. She lifted her eyes. They filled.
But at length, one day in May, 1822, in a small private office behind Monsieur Vignevielle's banking-room, he sitting beside a table, and she, more timid and demure than ever, having just taken a chair by the door, she said, trying, with a little bashful laugh, to make the matter seem unimportant, and yet with some tremor of voice: "Miché Vignevielle, I bin maguing my will."
The good father might even have said a few words about her after her first departure; he had such an overflowing heart. "Madame Carraze," said Monsieur Vignevielle, "doze kine of note wad you 'an' me juz now is bein' contrefit. You muz tek kyah from doze kine of note.
"Do you know her?" "We are acquainted," said Monsieur Vignevielle.
The good father might even have said a few words about her after her first departure; he had such an overflowing heart. "Madame Carraze," said Monsieur Vignevielle, "doze kine of note wad you 'an' me juz now is bein' contrefit. You muz tek kyah from doze kine of note.
"Have you something to say to us?" asked Jean Thompson, frowning at her law-defying bonnet. "Oui," replied the woman, shrinking to one side, and laying hold of one of the benches, "mo oulé di' tou' ç'ose" I want to tell every thing. "Miché Vignevielle la plis bon homme di moune" the best man in the world; "mo pas capabe li fé tracas" I cannot give him trouble.
The dimmest shadow of a smile seemed only to give his words a more kindly authoritative import, and as he turned away again with a manner suggestive of finality, Madame Delphine found no choice but to depart. But she went away loving the ground beneath the feet of Monsieur U.L. Vignevielle.
The day had been long and fatiguing. First, early mass; a hasty meal; then a business call upon the archbishop in the interest of some projected charity; then back to his cottage, and so to the banking-house of "Vignevielle," in the Rue Toulouse. There all was open, bright, and re-assured, its master virtually, though not actually, present. At noon there had been a wedding in the little church.
Monsieur Vigneville turned to engage in conversation with an employé and a new visitor, and gave no sign of hearing Madame Delphine's voice. She asked a second time, with like result, lingered timidly, and as he turned to give his attention to a third visitor, reiterated: "Miché Vignevielle, I wizh you pliz led"
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