Chapter III: A Bold Question

Mlle. de Beaumesnil was doubly surprised, as the invitation must have been premeditated, inasmuch as she was not then in the ball-room, so having no answer ready in her astonishment, Herminie came to her assistance by saying gaily to the young soldier:

"I accept your invitation in mademoiselle's name, M. Olivier, for she is quite capable of depriving herself of the pleasure of dancing merely to keep me company."

"As mademoiselle has accepted for me," added Ernestine, smiling, "I can but follow her example."

Olivier bowed again, and turning to Herminie remarked:

"Unfortunately I arrived very late this evening, mademoiselle, for I found you had not only ceased playing, but had also abandoned all idea of dancing."

"You did come very late, M. Olivier, for I recollect seeing you come in at the conclusion of the last polka I played."

"Alas! mademoiselle, you see in me a victim of my own patience and another's unpunctuality. I was waiting for a friend who intended to come with me."

Herminie blushed slightly and averted her eyes.

"But this friend did not come," Olivier added.

"Possibly he is ill, M. Olivier," said the duchess, with feigned indifference.

"No, mademoiselle, he is perfectly well, for I saw him only a few hours ago, but I think his mother must have detained him, for the kind-hearted fellow never opposes her in anything."

The words seemed to dispel the slight cloud which had gathered, now and then, on the brow of the duchess during the evening, and she answered, gaily:

"Then you do very wrong to blame your friend if he has such a good excuse for his absence, M. Olivier."

"I am not blaming him in the least, Mlle. Herminie. I am only pitying him for not having come, and pitying myself for arriving so late, as I might, perhaps, have had the pleasure of dancing with mademoiselle sooner," added Olivier, addressing Mlle. de Beaumesnil, so she would not feel that she was left out of the conversation.

Suddenly the words, "Take your places!" resounded through the room, accompanied by a few chords on the piano.

"I am at your service, mademoiselle," said Olivier, offering his arm to Ernestine.

The girl arose to accompany Olivier, but Herminie caught her by the hand, and whispered:

"One moment, Ernestine, let me arrange your sash. It needs pinning."

And the duchess, with charming solicitude, straightened a disordered fold in the sash, fastened it with a pin she took from her own girdle, smoothed out a slight wrinkle in Ernestine's corsage,--rendered her, in short, all those little kindly services which two devoted sisters are always performing for each other.

"Now, mademoiselle," remarked Herminie, with kindly gravity, after another brief survey of Ernestine's toilet, "I will let you go and dance, but you must promise to enjoy yourself immensely."

Mlle. de Beaumesnil was so touched by Herminie's little attentions that, before accepting Olivier's arm, she found an opportunity to imprint a light kiss on the cheek of the duchess, and whisper:

"Thanks again! Many, many thanks!"

And really happy for the first time since her mother's death, Ernestine left Herminie, took the arm Olivier offered, and accompanied him into the ball-room.

The young hussar was remarkably handsome and distinguished-looking, cordial in his manner towards men, and extremely deferential to women. This, together with the fact that he wore his showy uniform, decorated with the cross he had so bravely won, with easy grace, made him a great favourite at Madame Herbaut's entertainments, so Ernestine excited not a little envy and jealousy when she appeared in the ball-room on Olivier's arm.

Even the most artless and ingenuous women are quick to discern the effect they produce upon other women.

And in Mlle. de Beaumesnil's case, these powers of penetration were united with a firm determination to observe every incident of the evening with the closest attention, so, on perceiving the envy which Olivier's preference excited, the young girl's gratitude increased.

She did not doubt in the least that Olivier, out of the kindness of his heart, had wished to avenge the painful, almost humiliating slight she had received earlier in the evening, and a natural feeling of gratitude made Mlle. de Beaumesnil treat Olivier with less reserve, perhaps, than was quite proper in the extremely delicate position in which she was placed.

Olivier, in promising Mlle. Herbaut that he would ask Ernestine to dance, had merely yielded to a generous impulse, for, seeing Mlle. de Beaumesnil such a long way off, he had thought her almost ugly. He had never exchanged a word with her, he did not know whether she was clever or stupid, so, glad to find a topic of conversation in the warm friendship that seemed to exist between Herminie and Ernestine, he remarked to the latter, in one of the pauses of the dance:

"You seem to know Mlle. Herminie very well, mademoiselle. What a charming young lady she is!"

"I agree with you perfectly, monsieur, though I met Mlle. Herminie this evening for the first time."

"Indeed!"

"Our sudden intimacy surprises you, does it not, monsieur? But why should it? Sometimes the richest are the most generous. They do not wait to be asked; they offer their largess to you of their own accord. That was the case with Herminie this evening."

"I understand, mademoiselle. You knew no one here, and Mlle. Herminie--"

"Seeing me alone, had the goodness to come to me. This can not surprise you very much, however."

"Why not, mademoiselle?"

"Because a moment ago you, monsieur, were actuated by the same charitable impulse in asking me to dance."

"Charitable? What an expression to use in this connection, mademoiselle!"

"It is the right one, however."

"Quite the contrary, mademoiselle."

"Come, admit it, monsieur. You ought always to tell the truth, you know."

"Frankly, mademoiselle," responded Olivier, smiling in his turn, "should I be performing an act of charity--allow me to make this comparison--in culling a forgotten or unseen flower?"

"Say, rather, a rejected one."

"So be it, mademoiselle. But might this not merely show the poor taste of a person who would prefer a big red poppy to a modest violet."

And Olivier cast a laughing glance at the buxom lass whose gaudy attire did seem to justify the comparison.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil could not help smiling, but she answered, with a shake of the head:

"Ah, monsieur, kind as your reply is, it proves that I am doubly right."

"How is that, mademoiselle?"

"You took compassion on me, and you still have sufficient compassion to be unwilling to admit the fact."

"You do right to insist upon frankness, mademoiselle. It is a thousand times better than compliments."

"And what I certainly expect of you, monsieur."

"Well, yes, mademoiselle; seeing that you were the only person not dancing, I thought how dull it must be for you, and I resolved to engage you for the next quadrille. I hope my sincerity has not offended you, but you insisted--"

"Certainly, monsieur; and I am so grateful for your sincerity that if I dared--"

"Do not hesitate, I beg of you, mademoiselle."

"But no, however frank you may be, however great a lover of truth, your sincerity, I am sure, would not exceed certain limits--"

"Those you yourself prescribe, mademoiselle; no others."

"Are you in earnest?"

"I am, I assure you."

"The question I am about to put to you, monsieur, will seem so peculiar, so bold, perhaps."

"Then, mademoiselle, I shall tell you that it seems strange and bold, that is all."

"I don't think I shall ever dare--"

"Ah, mademoiselle, you seem to be afraid of frankness, in your turn," said Olivier, laughing.

"Say, rather, that I tremble for your sincerity; it will have to be so great, so rare, to stand my test."

"You need have no fears, I will vouch for it, mademoiselle."

"Well, monsieur, what do you think of my appearance?"

"Mademoiselle," stammered Olivier, who was not in the least prepared for such a brusque and embarrassing question; "really--I--"

"Ah, you see that you dare not say what you think, monsieur," exclaimed Ernestine, gaily. "But wait, to put you quite at your ease, let us suppose that on leaving this entertainment you should meet one of your friends, and in telling him about the young ladies you danced with, what would you say about me if you should happen to remember that I was one of your partners?"

"Well, mademoiselle," responded Olivier, who had partially recovered from his surprise, "I should merely say to my friend, 'I saw a young lady whom nobody asked to dance. This interested me in her, so I engaged her for the next quadrille, not supposing that our conversation would prove particularly interesting, for not knowing the young lady at all, I had nothing but commonplaces to say to her. But quite the contrary. Thanks to my partner, our conversation was extremely animated, and the time passed like a dream.'"

"And what if your friend should perhaps ask if this young lady was pretty or ugly?"

"I should say that I had not been able to distinguish her features very well from a distance," replied Olivier, intrepidly, "but on seeing her closer, and looking at her more attentively, and more particularly after I had heard her talk, I found her face so gentle and kind and characterised by such an expression of winning frankness that I ceased to think that she was not pretty. But I should add, still speaking to my friend, of course: 'Do not repeat these remarks made to you in confidence, for it is only women of great good sense and amiability who ask for, or forgive, sincerity.' It is consequently only to a very discreet friend that I should say this, mademoiselle."

"I thank you so much, monsieur. I am grateful, you have no idea how grateful, for your frankness," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, in such a sincere and earnest voice that Olivier, surprised and touched in spite of himself, gazed at the girl with lively interest.

Just then the dance ended, and Olivier took Ernestine back to Herminie, who was waiting for her; then, impressed by the singular character of the young girl with whom he had just danced, he withdrew himself a little apart to think over their strange conversation.

"You enjoyed yourself very much, did you not, Ernestine?" asked Herminie, affectionately. "I knew it by your face. You talked all the time you were dancing."

"M. Olivier is very pleasant; besides, knowing that you were so well acquainted with him made me feel perfect confidence in him at once."

"And he deserves it, I assure you, Ernestine. No one could have a better heart or a nobler character. His most intimate friend"--and the duchess blushed almost imperceptibly--"tells me that M. Olivier works like a slave at the most uncongenial employment in order to utilise his leave and assist his uncle, a retired officer of marines, crippled with wounds, who resides in this same house and has only his pension to live on."

"This doesn't surprise me at all, Herminie. I knew that M. Olivier must have a kind heart."

"He is as brave as a lion, too, with it all. His friend, who served in the same regiment, has told me of many deeds of wonderful valour on M. Olivier's part."

"That seems only natural to me. I have always believed that good and kind-hearted people were the bravest," replied Ernestine. "You, for example, must be very courageous, Herminie."

The conversation between the two young girls was again interrupted by a young man, who, after interchanging a quick glance with Herminie, politely invited Ernestine to dance.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil saw the look, and it made her blush and smile. Nevertheless, she made an engagement to dance the next quadrille, but as soon as the young man had walked away Ernestine gaily remarked to her new friend:

"You are making me a very dangerous person, my dear Herminie."

"Why do you say that, Ernestine?"

"That invitation I just received--"

"Well, what of it?"

"Was all your work."

"Mine?"

"Yes, you said to yourself, 'This poor Ernestine must, at least, dance twice during the evening. Everybody is not as kind-hearted as M. Olivier, but I am queen here, and I will give orders to one of my subjects.'"

But just then Queen Herminie's subject came to say that the quadrille was forming.

"Good-bye, Madame Sybil," exclaimed Herminie, shaking her finger threateningly at Mlle. de Beaumesnil. "I'll teach you not to be so proud of your wonderful powers of divination."

The young girl had scarcely walked away with her partner before Olivier came up, and, seating himself beside the duchess, said:

"Who is that young girl I just danced with?"

"An orphan who supports herself by her embroidery, M. Olivier, and who is not very happy, I think, for you can not imagine the touching way in which she thanked me for my attention this evening. It was this that made us friends so quickly, for I never saw her until to-night."

"That is what she meant, I suppose, by speaking so artlessly of what she called your compassion, and mine."

"Poor child! She must have been very unkindly treated, and is still, perhaps, to make her so grateful for the slightest show of interest."

"Hers is certainly a very original character. You can't imagine what a strange question she asked me, imploring me to be perfectly frank all the while."

"No, I can not."

"Well, she asked me whether I thought her pretty or ugly."

"What a strange child! And what did you answer?"

"I told her the truth, as she insisted."

"What! M. Olivier, did you really tell her that she wasn't pretty?"

"I certainly did, adding, however,--and that, too, was the truth,--that she had such a frank and gentle manner that it made one quite forget that she was not pretty."

"Great heavens! M. Olivier," cried Herminie, almost in affright, "that wasn't a pleasant thing for her to hear. And she did not seem hurt?"

"Not the least bit in the world. Quite the contrary, in fact, and that was what surprised me so much. When one asks questions of this nature, a request to be frank generally means that you are to lie; while she thanked me in such an earnest and pathetic way for my sincerity that I was really touched, in spite of myself."

"Do you know what I think, M. Olivier? I really believe the poor child must have been very unkindly treated at home. She must have been told a hundred times that she was a monster of ugliness, and, finding herself for the first time in her life with some one she really felt that she could trust, she wanted to know the truth in regard to herself."

"You are probably right, Mlle. Herminie, and what touched me, as it did you, was to see with what gratitude the poor girl welcomed the slightest sign of interest, provided it was sincere."

"Would you believe it, I have seen big tears well up in her eyes more than once this evening, M. Olivier?"

"I, too, somehow fancied that her gaiety concealed a habitual melancholy. She was trying to forget herself, perhaps."

"And then her trade, which unfortunately requires such an expenditure of time and labour, is so unremunerative, poor child! If the trials of poverty should be added to her other troubles--"

"I fear that is only too probable, Mlle. Herminie," said Olivier, feelingly. "She is, indeed, very much to be pitied!"

"Hush, here she comes," said Herminie. Then she added: "But she is putting on her wrap; they must be taking her away."

And in fact, Ernestine, behind whom Madame Laine was walking with an imposing air, came to the door, and made a slight movement of the head to Herminie as if to indicate that she was leaving with regret.

The duchess hastened to her new friend. "What! you are going already?" she asked.

"I must," answered Ernestine, with a meaning look at innocent Madame Laine.

"But you will come next Sunday, will you not? You know we shall have a thousand things to say to each other."

"I hope to come, my dear Herminie, I shall be so anxious to see you again."

Then with a gracious bow to the young hussar, Ernestine said:

"_Au revoir_, M. Olivier."

"_Au revoir_, mademoiselle," replied the young soldier, with a bow.

An hour afterwards Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Madame Laine were safe within the walls of the Hotel de la Rochaigue.