Sincerely did Victorine feel for her elder sister when the chosen Rosiere entered the cottage. With an air of affected indifference Lisette replied to the congratulations of the neighbours, and even professed to think that the choice had been a partial one. “I could never fancy that I should have to take precedence of an elder sister,” she said, “and then Felicie Durand is so charming a person that I assure you I felt it no little compliment to be chosen in the trial with her and Caliste. As the youngest of the three you know, I could not have expected to be Rosiere, for I am only sixteen, and Caliste is nearly three years older.”
Thus did she enumerate, with an assumed air of innocent unconsciousness, every reason she could think of for her own non-election—not so much to vex Caliste, as she most assuredly
did, as to raise her own merits the more above her competitors; for she knew not these words of Holy Writ: “If we live in the Spirit let us also walk in the Spirit, and let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, and envying one another;” “and favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised.”
But to speak of Caliste. Whilst her sister thus called upon others to compliment the idol of the day, she stood aloof, her speaking countenance and flashing eye betokening her resentment. It was useless for Victorine to try, by whispered words of affection, to soothe her; Caliste smiled fearfully as she returned her answer in low words, “Never, never,” she said, “can the sting in my bosom be removed. Let the poison work, Victorine, it is not your hand that has placed the venom there.”
Sorrowing at her disappointment, Victorine would have led her from the room, but she refused to accompany her. “No, I will stay,” she said, “I will hear every reason why I am rejected, and my younger sister exalted over my head.”
Mimi heard these words; and the excited child, irritated at the sister whom she least loved
gaining the crown, turned towards Lisette and passionately addressed her—“Lisette!” she exclaimed, “I wish you would now forget you are Rosiere, surely we have had enough about it. Let us talk of something else, or, if you wish to go on, pray tell neighbour Elise that Monsieur le Prieur himself said that Victorine would be the chosen of all if she would attend mass with us; did he not, mother?” inquired the child; “and did he not come here and talk for an hour to Victorine, two months ago? and did he not promise her, if she would attend mass, she should be the Rosiere this year, and that she should publicly become a member of our congregation on the same day? So, after all, Lisette,” she added, “if Victorine had pleased, she would now be the Rosiere.”
“You do not know what you are saying, child!” exclaimed Lisette, for a moment assuming the angry countenance of Caliste. “You have not got a correct account of what happened, Mam’selle Mimi.”
“Yes, but I have,” she answered; “though I know you don’t like to hear of it, Lisette. Uncle Dorsain,” she added, addressing him, “you might have had all three of your nieces