Toinon, who chanced to overhear, smiled maliciously. "Indeed?" she chuckled to herself. "If Jean Boulot speaks truth, it is the strong who have been slumbering, while the weak danced and sang. Wait a bit, and you will get your deserts, milady. And, oh! won't I help you on your road!"
This matter of the completed bucket was one in which the chatelaine might assist with propriety in an endeavour to please her husband. She had heard so much of it as almost to be convinced of its efficacy. True, the abbé had told her that it was a delusion, that the bottom of the whole scheme was imagination; that the mechanical effect of friction in disorders of a convulsive nature will produce startling results; that there is a well-known law which impels one excited animal to imitate another in a similar situation to himself, and that this would satisfactorily account for the phenomena of Mesmer's cures. But this was some time ago, and since then Pharamond had affected to come round, and when he beheld the completed tub he gave way to spasms of rapture.
When the newly-wedded wife in pique had worried her spouse with scenes, they were only the ebullitions of a much-admired woman irritated by the loved one's coolness. Now she had trod the path of trouble so far that those days were out of ken. In her efforts to win back her husband she would even conciliate the mischief-maker. Some women seem specially created for martyrdom. Otherwise insignificant, we should not see them but for the dazzling whiteness of their robes. I dare say that many of the canonized young ladies whose legends thrill us would, had they not been called to march over the ploughshare of trial, have remained as much in obscurity as any other ordinary young persons, who are too stupid to make a pudding or darn a stocking. They would have passed utterly unnoticed in the crowd but for the martyr's nimbus.
"The woman does not like me, and is rude," argued too guileless Gabrielle, as she considered her resolve, "but she is such a general favourite that surely she can't be a bad woman; she is only vulgar, and given to self-assertion. Perhaps the fault lies in myself." Bravely, then, the meek saint uprose and went straight to Aglaé's apartment, bearing with her a peace-offering, bent on the making up of differences.
But the sublime and the angelic were beyond the comprehension of mundane Aglaé, who since infancy had known nothing but the sordid; whose childhood had been passed in a beast-like tussle, a constant struggle for food. To her thinking, the maxim anent the turning of the cheek is an insult to common sense, considering the world whereon we were placed without consent of ours. In Saturn or Jupiter, perhaps, such inflated theories may be appropriate. Those worlds may be pleasant places to dwell in. There, no doubt, a police force is not required, while the wily but necessary detective is pictured as a curiosity, an extinct monster, like the Dodo and the Mammoth on this globe.
Mademoiselle Brunelle, an unromantic lady of middle age, too commonplace to enjoy the fantastic, looked on eccentricities with a jaundiced eye, and the contemplation made her peevish.
When the wan marquise knocked and gently entered the sanctum, where she should have known there was no place for her, the ire of Aglaé was kindled, and sulkily regarding the invader, she assumed her most offensive attitude. What could the abject, grovelling, brow-beaten creature want, coming here to bother? How dared she take such a liberty? She deserved a setting down--a drubbing. Here was a chance for the lash! The mere sight of the wide opened violet eyes of the marquise, with their eloquent depth of ineffable sadness, acted on her nerves as the flag of the toreador does upon the bull. We must not blame her, for those who have struggled up somehow without educated help, must judge for themselves according to their lights, and they are beset with insoluble riddles, as ill-cultured fields are choked with weeds. To women such as Aglaé, true pride is an unknown quantity. Instead of considering it as an organ of extremest delicacy, with ramifications as minute and various as that most amazing of creations, the nerve system--she, like others of her kidney, understood nothing more than an aggressive haughtiness, with an accompaniment of sledge hammers. To her, the refined pride which can afford to pass slights unnoticed and ignored impertinence, was a mystery which might not be deciphered.
Gabrielle--so misread by Aglaé--had bestirred herself to achieve an object, and was prepared to forgive and obliterate the ugly past. The pugnacious and low-souled Aglaé could only perceive a lady of high rank, who, out of cowardice, abdicated her position to grovel like a beggar in the dirt. Such an one obviously merited castigation; deserved to be rudely shown that being so mean-spirited she should cower into a corner and hide away her shame.
This was the occasion for judicious pin-sticking. The alliance demanded an operation. What would the abbé say, who had prated so seraphically about loyalty, if he came to know that his ally and his recalcitrant lady love had made a compact under the rose? Oh, dear no! A reconciliation between the marquise and her governess would never do at all! A consummation injudicious and undesirable. The purveyor of impossible theories must be well-rapped on the knuckles. The cheek that was turned to the smiter must be soundly thwacked to prevent a recurrence in the future of ill-judged and degrading mawkishness.
Aglaé, therefore, on the advent of the conciliatory marquise, made a pettish movement of studied impertinence, and yawned slowly in her face like a dyspeptic hippopotamus.