“At your age health,” said she, “is not irretrievable, and, sweet madam, your good looks are left you. A touch of rouge upon your cheek, and you are quite an angel. And then you are free—you will one day travel back again to Paris with a better escort than you had before.”
And here she gave a sigh which prepared the hearer for the disclosure that was to follow.
“Now I,” she continued, “have been married, but, alas! am not a widow. I have a husband standing out against me somewhere in the world. In the commercial language of my father, I wish I could cancel him.”
“What! he has deserted you?” said her fair companion, in a sympathizing tone.
“You shall hear, my dear madam. My father, you must know, is a plain citizen. He did not charge himself with the task of looking out a husband for his girls; he followed what he called the English plan—let the girls look out for themselves, and contented himself with a veto upon the choice, if it should displease him. Now, Monsieur Lemaire was a perfect Adonis; he dressed, and danced, and talked to admiration; no man dressed, danced, or talked better; his mirth was inexhaustible—his good-humour unfailing.”
Well, thought I to myself, what is coming now? This lady, at all events, chose with her own eyes, and had her own time to choose in. Is her experience to prove, that the chance of securing a good husband is much the same, let him be chosen how he may?
“No wonder, then,” continued the lady, “that I accepted his proposal. The very thought of marrying him as paradise; and I did marry him.”
“And so were really in paradise?” said the widow, with a gentle smile.
“Yes, yes! it was a paradise. It was a constant succession of amusements; theatre, balls, excursions—all enjoyed with the charming Lemaire. And he so happy, too! I thought he would have devoured me. We were verily in paradise for three months. At the end of which time he came one morning into the room swinging an empty purse in the air—‘Now, I think,’ said he with the same cheerful countenance that he usually wore, ‘that I have proved my devotion to you in a remarkable manner. Another man would have thought it much if he had made some sacrifice to gain possession of you for life; I have spent every farthing I had in the world to possess you for three months. Oh, that those three months were to live over again! But every thing has its end.’ And he tossed the empty purse in his hand.
“I laughed at what I considered a very pleasant jest; for who did not know that M. Lemaire was a man of ample property? I laughed still more heartily as he went on to say, that a coach stood at the door to take me back to my father, and begged me not to keep the coachman waiting, as in that case the fellow would charge for time, and it had taken his last sou to pay his fare by distance. I clapped my hands in applause of my excellent comedian. But, gracious Heavens! it was all true! There stood the coach at the door, the fare paid to my father’s house, and an empty purse was literally all that I now had to participate with the gay, wealthy, accomplished Lemaire.”