I thought this advice to be very good, and made up my mind to follow it. I had not money sufficient to purchase a piano just then, as it would be five months before the half-year’s interest of the mortgage would be due; so I hired one from a dealer with whom Monsieur Gironac was intimate, and practised several hours every day. Fortune appeared inclined to favour me, for I obtained employment from four different channels.
The first and most important was this: I went every Sunday to the Catholic Chapel with Madame Gironac, and of course I joined in the singing. On the third Sunday as I was going out, I was touched on the arm by one of the priests, who requested to speak with me in the vestry. Madame Gironac and I followed him, and he requested us to sit down.
“Who have I the pleasure of addressing?” said he to me.
“Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, sir,” replied I.
“I am not aware of your circumstances, mademoiselle,” said he, “but the name is one well known in France. Still those who hold our best names are very often not in affluent circumstances in this country. I trust, let it be as it may, that you will not be offended, but the fact is, your singing has been much admired, and we would wish for your service, gratuitous, if you are in good circumstances, but well paid for, if you are not, in the choir.”
“Mademoiselle Chatenoeuf is not, I am sorry to say, in good circumstances, monsieur,” replied Madame Gironac.
“Then I will promise that she shall be well rewarded for her exertions, if she will consent to sing in the chapel—but do you consent?”
“I have no objection, sir,” replied I.
“Allow me, then, to call the gentleman who presides over the choir,” said the priest, going out.
“Accept by all means, Mademoiselle Valerie. It will be an introduction for you as a music-mistress, and very advantageous.”