Bareges is a very expensive place. Even moderate accommodations must be purchased at a high rate; and provisions, as well as lodgings, are sometimes obtained with difficulty. Bareges is therefore seldom resorted to by any but people of considerable fortune, who can afford to level the obstacles which mountains interpose to their conveniences and comforts, by the all subduing force of gold.
Among a number of persons of rank and fortune, there was however one family at Bareges in a different situation. This family consisted of an elderly infirm French officer, who had long been afflicted with the palsy, and his daughter, a young woman about nineteen years of age. Their appearance and mode of living seemed to indicate, that, though in search of relief, this old officer had journeyed to Bareges, he had in so doing far exceeded the bounds of economy, which his circumstances prescribed, and was forced to deny himself every accommodation his infirmities could spare. He lived in the most retired manner, in the worst lodgings at Bareges; and, while the other ladies were dressed in a style of expensive variety and profusion, his daughter wore only a plain linen gown, which, though always perfectly clean, was coarse; and her dark hair was left unpowdered and without any ornament whatever. Fortunately for Madelaine, however, (for that was her name) her person was calculated to make her coarse gown appear to the best advantage; and though she was not very beautiful, her countenance had an expression of sweetness which answered the end of beauty by exciting love and admiration.
The company at Bareges soon became acquainted with each other, and the ladies always took notice of Madelaine when they met her in their walks, which however did not happen very often, for her father was frequently unable so go out. When he did, he was supported on one side by Madelaine, and on the other by his servant. It was impossible to see with insensibility the attention which this interesting young woman paid to her father, whom she never quitted one moment. It was remarked with what careful tenderness she used to lead him along the streets of Bareges, walking the slowest pace she could, and watching his steps as he moved feebly on. And when he was not able to venture out, she was seen at the window of their little parlour reading in order to entertain him. Her looks and manner announced that her disposition was naturally sprightly, and that she would have been gay if her father had not been sick. But all the chearfulness she could assume while he suffered, was exerted to amuse him, and shorten the tedious hours of langour and debility.
Though Madelaine was handsome, the obscurity and seclusion in which she lived preserved her from the envy of the women. They knew well enough that the gentlemen at Bareges were for the most part men of the world, who, though they may admire beauty, and approve of virtue, are never so far the dupes of any tender or moral sentiment as to let it interfere either with their vanity, their ambition, or their interest. Although the French Revolution had not yet happened, these ladies were aware that, with respect to marriage, the age of calculators was already come, and therefore no rival was to be feared in Madelaine. The ladies joined with the men in admiring the graces of her person, and the amiable qualities which her conduct displayed. Madelaine, in short, became the object of general esteem.
Auguste, for so I shall call our young Parisian, who has lost his title since the laws of equality have been established in his country—Auguste spoke less of Madelaine than the other gentlemen at Bareges; but it was perhaps because he thought of her more. Sometimes, in his solitary morning rambles, he used to make comparisons between her and the Parisian ladies among whom he had passed the winter, and the comparison generally ended with a deep sigh. The scene of these meditations was certainly much in Madelaine’s favour. Perhaps, at Paris or Versailles, Auguste might have been dazzled by the polished graces of a fine lady rouged, powdered, perfumed, and equipped for conquest. These artificial attractions might perhaps have accorded well enough with clipped trees, and angular walks. But Madelaine’s simple manners, Madeline’s natural smiles and unstudied blushes, were far more in unison with the Pyrenean mountains.
One evening, when Auguste was walking in the town of Bareges with some ladies, he saw Madelaine at a little distance assisting with great difficulty to support her father, who appeared to be seized with a fit. Auguste darted like an arrow towards the spot, and held up the officer till he found himself somewhat recovered; and then Auguste, with a sort of gentle violence, obliged Madelaine, who was pale and trembling, to let go her father’s arm and suffer him to assist the servant in leading him home, which was but a few steps farther. Auguste entered the house, where he remained till the old officer was a little revived; and, after prevailing upon Madelaine to take a few hartshorn drops, he retired.
The next morning he felt that common civility required he should pay the old officer a visit, and learn how he had passed the night. It happened that Madelaine had the very same idea. “Surely,” thought she, “it will be very strange if this young man, who was so kind, so careful of my father, and who made me take some hartshorn drops, should neglect to call and enquire after us!” This idea had come across her mind several times; and she was meditating upon it at her father’s bedside, when Auguste was announced.
The old officer, who had all the finished politeness of his country and his profession, received him in the most courteous manner; and, though he spoke with some difficulty, yet he was profuse in acknowledgments for the service Auguste had rendered him. Madelaine’s thanks were few and simply expressed; but the tone in which they were uttered was such that Auguste felt he could have sacrificed his life to have deserved them.
The old officer still continued sick, and therefore Auguste still considered it as an indispensable mark of attention to go every day, and learn the state of his health. He also began to feel that these visits became every day more necessary to his own happiness. That happiness was, indeed, embittered by many painful reflections. He well knew, that to obtain his father the Count de ——’s consent to marry Madelaine, was as impossible as it was for himself to conquer the passion she had inspired. He knew exactly the order in which his father’s enquiries would run on this subject. He was aware that there were two interrogatories to be answered. The first was—“How many thousand livres has she a year?” And the second—“Is she noble?” And nothing could be more embarrassing than that the enquiry concerning fortune would, he was sure, come first: since that was the only article which could not be answered in a satisfactory manner; for to Madelaine’s family no objection could have been made. By the way, though the former nobility of France would not absolutely contaminate the pure streams of noble blood by an union with the daughter of a roturier, they had always sufficient generosity to abate some generations of nobility in favour of a proper equivalent in wealth.
Auguste, while he was convinced of the impossibility of obtaining his father’s consent to his marriage, did not pay Madelaine one visit the less from that consideration; and when the usual hour of his visit arrived, he often suddenly broke a chain of admirable reasoning on the imprudence of his attachment, in order to hasten to the dwelling of her he loved. In a short time he ceased all kind of reasoning on the subject, and abandoned his heart without reserve to the most violent and unconquerable passion.