la mere bauche-第2章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


she　would　not　often　diverge　into　general　conversation。　　If　any　one
had　aught　to　say　connected　with　the　business　of　the　establishment；
she　would　listen；　and　then　she　would　make　her　answers；often　not
pleasant　in　the　hearing。

And　thus　she　walked　her　path　through　the　world；　a　stern；　hard；　solemn
old　woman；　not　without　gusts　of　passionate　explosion；　but　honest
withal；　and　not　without　some　inward　benevolence　and　true　tenderness
of　heart。　　Children　she　had　had　many；　some　seven　or　eight。　　One　or
two　had　died；　others　had　been　married；　she　had　sons　settled　far　away
from　home；　and　at　the　time　of　which　we　are　now　speaking　but　one　was
left　in　any　way　subject　to　maternal　authority。

Adolphe　Bauche　was　the　only　one　of　her　children　of　whom　much　was
remembered　by　the　present　denizens　and　hangers…on　of　the　hotel；　he
was　the　youngest　of　the　number；　and　having　been　born　only　very
shortly　before　the　return　of　Madame　Bauche　to　Vernet；　had　been
altogether　reared　there。　　It　was　thought　by　the　world　of　those　parts；
and　rightly　thought；　that　he　was　his　mother's　darlingmore　so　than
had　been　any　of　his　brothers　and　sisters；the　very　apple　of　her　eye
and　gem　of　her　life。　　At　this　time　he　was　about　twenty…five　years　of
age；　and　for　the　last　two　years　had　been　absent　from　Vernetfor
reasons　which　will　shortly　be　made　to　appear。　　He　had　been　sent　to
Paris　to　see　something　of　the　world；　and　learn　to　talk　French　instead
of　the　patois　of　his　valley；　and　having　left　Paris　had　come　down
south　into　Languedoc；　and　remained　there　picking　up　some　agricultural
lore　which　it　was　thought　might　prove　useful　in　the　valley　farms　of
Vernet。　　He　was　now　expected　home　again　very　speedily；　much　to　his
mother's　delight。

That　she　was　kind　and　gracious　to　her　favourite　child　does　not
perhaps　give　much　proof　of　her　benevolence；　but　she　had　also　been
kind　and　gracious　to　the　orphan　child　of　a　neighbour；　nay；　to　the
orphan　child　of　a　rival　innkeeper。　　At　Vernet　there　had　been　more
than　one　water　establishment；　but　the　proprietor　of　the　second　had
died　some　few　years　after　Madame　Bauche　had　settled　herself　at　the
place。　　His　house　had　not　thrived；　and　his　only　child；　a　little　girl；
was　left　altogether　without　provision。

This　little　girl；　Marie　Clavert；　La　Mere　Bauche　had　taken　into　her
own　house　immediately　after　the　father's　death；　although　she　had　most
cordially　hated　that　father。　　Marie　was　then　an　infant；　and　Madame
Bauche　had　accepted　the　charge　without　much　thought；　perhaps；　as　to
what　might　be　the　child's　ultimate　destiny。　　But　since　then　she　had
thoroughly　done　the　duty　of　a　mother　by　the　little　girl；　who　had
become　the　pet　of　the　whole　establishment；　the　favourite　plaything　of
Adolphe　Bauche；　and　at　last　of　course　his　early　sweetheart。

And　then　and　therefore　there　had　come　troubles　at　Vernet。　　Of　course
all　the　world　of　the　valley　had　seen　what　was　taking　place　and　what
was　likely　to　take　place；　long　before　Madame　Bauche　knew　anything
about　it。　　But　at　last　it　broke　upon　her　senses　that　her　son；　Adolphe
Bauche；　the　heir　to　all　her　virtues　and　all　her　riches；　the　first
young　man　in　that　or　any　neighbouring　valley；　was　absolutely
contemplating　the　idea　of　marrying　that　poor　little　orphan；　Marie
Clavert！

That　any　one　should　ever　fall　in　love　with　Marie　Clavert　had　never
occurred　to　Madame　Bauche。　　She　had　always　regarded　the　child　as　a
child；　as　the　object　of　her　charity；　and　as　a　little　thing　to　be
looked　on　as　poor　Marie　by　all　the　world。　　She；　looking　through　her
green　spectacles；　had　never　seen　that　Marie　Clavert　was　a　beautiful
creature；　full　of　ripening　charms；　such　as　young　men　love　to　look　on。
Marie　was　of　infinite　daily　use　to　Madame　Bauche　in　a　hundred　little
things　about　the　house；　and　the　old　lady　thoroughly　recognised　and
appreciated　her　ability。　　But　for　this　very　reason　she　had　never
taught　herself　to　regard　Marie　otherwise　than　as　a　useful　drudge。
She　was　very　fond　of　her　protegeeso　much　so　that　she　would　listen
to　her　in　affairs　about　the　house　when　she　would　listen　to　no　one
else；but　Marie's　prettiness　and　grace　and　sweetness　as　a　girl　had
all　been　thrown　away　upon　Maman　Bauche；　as　Marie　used　to　call　her。

But　unluckily　it　had　not　been　thrown　away　upon　Adolphe。　　He　had
appreciated；　as　it　was　natural　that　he　should　do；　all　that　had　been
so　utterly　indifferent　to　his　mother；　and　consequently　had　fallen　in
love。　　Consequently　also　he　had　told　his　love；　and　consequently　also
Marie　had　returned　his　love。

Adolphe　had　been　hitherto　contradicted　but　in　few　things；　and　thought
that　all　difficulty　would　be　prevented　by　his　informing　his　mother
that　he　wished　to　marry　Marie　Clavert。　　But　Marie；　with　a　woman's
instinct；　had　known　better。　　She　had　trembled　and　almost　crouched
with　fear　when　she　confessed　her　love；　and　had　absolutely　hid　herself
from　sight　when　Adolphe　went　forth；　prepared　to　ask　his　mother's
consent　to　his　marriage。

The　indignation　and　passionate　wrath　of　Madame　Bauche　were　past　and
gone　two　years　before　the　date　of　this　story；　and　I　need　not
therefore　much　enlarge　upon　that　subject。　　She　was　at　first　abusive
and　bitter；　which　was　bad　for　Marie；　and　afterwards　bitter　and
silent；　which　was　worse。　　It　was　of　course　determined　that　poor　Marie
should　be　sent　away　to　some　asylum　for　orphans　or　penniless　paupers
in　short　anywhere　out　of　the　way。　　What　mattered　her　outlook　into　the
world；　her　happiness；　or　indeed　her　very　existence？　　The　outlook　and
happiness　of　Adolphe　Bauche；was　not　that　to　be　considered　as
everything　at　Vernet？

But　this　terrible　sharp　aspect　of　affairs　did　not　last　very　long。　　In
the　first　place　La　Mere　Bauche　had　under　those　green　spectacles　a
heart　that　in　truth　was　tender　and　affectionate；　and　after　the　first
two　days　of　anger　she　admitted　that　something　must　be　done　for　Marie
Clavert；　and　after　the　fourth　day　she　acknowledged　that　the　world　of
the　hotel；　her　world；　would　not　go　as　well　without　Marie　Clavert　as
it　would　with　her。　　And　in　the　next　place　Madame　Bauche　had　a　friend
whose　advice　in　grave　matters　she　would　sometimes　take。　　This　friend
had　told　her　that　it　would　be　much　better　to　send　away　Adolphe；　since
it　was　so　necessary　that　there　should　be　a　sending　away　of　some　one；
that　he　would　be　much　benefited　by　passing　some　months　of　his　life
away　from　his　native　valley；　and　that　an　absence　of　a　year　or　two
would　teach　him　to　forget　Marie；　even　if　it　did　not　teach　Marie　to
forget　him。

And　we　must　say　a　word　or　two　about　this　friend。　　At　Vernet　he　was
usually　called　M。　le　Capitaine；　though　in　fact　he　had　never　reached
that　rank。　　He　had　been　in　the　army；　and　having　been　wounded　in　the
leg　while　still　a　sous…lieutenant；　had　been　pensioned；　and　had　thus
been　interdicted　from　treading　any　further　the　thorny　path　that　leads
to　glory。　　For　the　last　fifteen　years　he　had　resided　under　the　roof
of　Madame　Bauche；　at　first　as　a　casual　visitor；　going　and　coming；　but
now　for　many　years　as　constant　there　as　she　was　herself。

He　was　so　constantly　called　Le　Capitaine　that　his　real　name　was
seldom　heard。　　It　may　however　as　well　be　known　to　us　that　this　was
Theodore　Campan。　　He　was　a　tall；　well…looking　man；　always　dressed　in
black　garments；　of　a　coarse　description　certainly；　but　scrupulously
clean　and　well　brushed；　of　perhaps　fifty　years　of　age；　and
conspicuous　for　the　rigid　uprightness　of　his　backand　for　a　black
wooden　leg。

This　wooden　leg　was　perhaps　the　most　remarkable　trait　in　his
character。　　It　was　always　jet　black；　being　painted；　or　polished；　or
japanned；　as　occasion　might　require；　by　the　hands　of　the　capitaine
himself。　　It　was　longer　than　ordinary　wooden　legs；　as　indeed　the
capitaine　was　longer　than　ordinary　men；　but　nevertheless　it　never
seemed　in　any　way　to　impede　the　rigid　punctilious　propriety　of　his
movements。　　It　was　never　in　his　way　as　wooden　legs　usually　are　in　the
way　of　their　wearers。　　And　then　to　render　it　more　illustrious　it　had
round　its　middle；　round　the　calf　of　the　leg　we　may　so　say；　a　band　of
bright　brass　which　shone　like　burnished　gold。

It　had　been　the　capitaine's　custom；　now　for　some　years　past；　to
retire　every　evening　at　about　seven　o'clock　into　the　sanctum
sanctorum　of　Madame　Bauche's