Madame then expressed her hope that Victorine would accompany her sister to the fête at the château; and, with a complimentary message to her mother, she dismissed the young girl.
And now came the important business of preparing dresses for the fête. The Rosiere and her twelve female friends were all to be attired in white, and all, with the exception of the Rosiere, were to wear blue ribbon scarfs placed over one shoulder and tied under the other. They were to have no coverings on their heads, for the fête was in the warm month of June, but the Rosiere was to wear a crown of roses, made by her twelve friends.
Now D’Elsac was an hourly witness of the patience of Victorine. She it was who made her sister’s dresses, for Lisette was in and out of the cottage every instant to talk of the fête, whilst Caliste felt too bitterly to set herself to work for an affair which she could not bear to think about. Mimi was too young, and the mother too old to employ themselves, and
thus it was left to Victorine, who had never expected aught of pleasure in the affair.
One morning Dorsain entered the cottage, and found Victorine working as usual, whilst Caliste was seated near her, her employment cast from her, and her whole appearance expressing the utmost dejection. At sight of her uncle she roused herself, and for a short time her excessive mirth, and even the great wit with which she spoke, astonished him. The quiet man was somewhat startled by her manner, and he looked at her earnestly, half alarmed by her wild and extravagant merriment. He soon remarked that the smile seemed only to be on her lip, for every now and then her countenance changed, and expressed the deep dejection he had noticed on his entrance. He saw too that Victorine laughed not with her, and did all that was in her power to check her exuberant gaiety. The steady look that Dorsain gave her at once put to flight all assumed merriment; she suddenly ceased speaking, sighed deeply, then throwing her working materials farther from her, with a hasty movement, she left the apartment.
Victorine’s employment, too, fell from her
hand; with the tear in her eyes she looked after her sister, then, echoing her sigh, she set herself with a sad heart to finish the work which must be done, and which necessarily detained her from comforting Caliste.
“Your sister, Victorine, seems far from well,” said Dorsain; “know you what ails her?”
“Dear uncle,” she replied, “Caliste will not now acknowledge even to me what vexes her; but it is easy to see she feels most bitterly the losing the Rosiere’s crown.”
D’Elsac for some minutes seemed lost in thought. “Poor girl!” he murmured, “poor girl! I should not have thought it would have so disappointed her.”