[Edmond François Valentin About, born at Dieuze, Meurthe, 14th February, 1828. As a journalist and politician he has rendered good service to France; as a novelist he maintains a distinguished position amongst his contemporaries. Although not free from the vices which render the bulk of French works of fiction unsuitable for family reading, he has produced

many faithful and effective sketches of character to which not even prudery can object. The following tale is an example; and it is the more interesting as it displays those qualities of acute observation and of epigrammatic writing which have won popularity for M. About in England and America as well as in France. The opening part of the story is slightly abridged.]

1. THE MISCHIEF.

A tall and rather elegantly formed woman of about five-and-forty was hurrying along the Rue St. Dizier, at Nancy, at such a rate that her guide, a waiter from the Hotel de l'Europe, had some difficulty in following her. An August sun was beating full upon her head, for she brandished the umbrella in her hand like a javelin, instead of availing herself of its shade. From her dress and adornments it was plain to see that she was a stranger to the modes and fashions of city life.

"Madame! Madame Humblot!" cried the nearly exhausted servant. "One moment, if you please. You have passed the door. Here is the colonel's house."

He crossed the street, exchanged a few words with the sentry, and returning reported the whole family of Colonel Vautrin at home.

To gain an interview with the colonel's wife, Madame Humblot would have confronted unheard-of dangers; but now that all difficulty of gaining access to her had disappeared, she felt her heart sink within her. She hesitated about entering the door which stood open before her; but the inquisitive look in the faces of her guide and the sentinel made her pluck up all her courage, and she soon found herself in a very large and comfortably-furnished parlour, in presence of the mother and the daughter. Madame Vautrin was very fat and very timid, and Mademoiselle Vautrin was very thin and not timid at all; and it was the latter of the two who reassured the matrons, and opened the conversation by requesting Madame Humblot to be seated, and to explain at her leisure the motives of her very kind visit.

Madame Humblot saw that retreat was now no longer possible; so she explained, in few words, that she was a widow, owning and managing herself a considerable estate in the town of Morans, and possessed of a daughter of nineteen, whom she desired to marry to a young officer of the garrison at Nancy. The young man, whom a curious succession of circumstances had brought her to look upon as the future husband of her dear Antoinette, seemed an admirable young man ; but she was very insufficiently informed in relation to his character, his principles, and his habits, and she invoked the ancient freemasonry of motherhood in requesting from Madame Vautrin in a matter of such importance the plain and unvarnished truth.

This preamble seemed to interest Madame Vautrin, and to put her more at ease. She replied that she felt flattered by the confidence

lighten Madame Humblot in so far as her retiring habits and very slight acquaintance with the officers composing the garrison would enable her. But if the young officer belonged to the regiment of her husband, "Colonel Vautrin, who knew all his men like Cæsar"

"But I do not know," interrupted Madame Humblot, "whether he has the honour to serve under Colonel Vautrin."

'If he is an infantry officer there can be no doubt of it, as ours is the only regiment of

VOL. II

"You astonish me. What is his rank?"

40

"What an original he must be! What is his name, my dear madame?"

"Alas! madame, that is one of the matters upon which we hope to be informed by you.' Madame Vautrin stared with wonder at this announcement, and the young girl burst into a hearty laugh. Madame Humblot perceived that there seemed to be some question of the soundness of her wits, and continued, hastily: "I will explain what has so much astonished you, my dear madame, and you will see that Providence or fate is more responsible than I am for what seems to you so very odd. But is not this charming young lady rather too young to listen to a story of a nature so very complicated?"

Madame," broke in the young girl abruptly, and with an air of great self-assertion, "I am nearly fifteen years old, and my mother has always discussed the gravest questions confidently in my presence. Do you desire me to leave you, mother?"

Madame Vautrin blushed deeply and stammered out, "Blanche-Blanchette-my darling treasure you need not go away; but practise a little on your piano while we are talking-there's a good child." The spoiled child went to the piano and commenced an exercise, which she attacked furiously at first; but little by little her music became more subdued, and only served as a gentle accompaniment to the conversation, of which she did not fail to catch every striking or interesting feature, quite as distinctly as her tender mother.

The widow Humblot explained that it was whilst travelling from Morans to Baden with her daughter, Antoinette, that they had encountered the unknown gentleman at Commercy. He had entered the compartment they occupied in the train. He was in civilian dress, but the companions who escorted him to the platform were officers in uniform.

He was tall, dark, and about twenty-five or thirty years. There was only one seat unoccupied, and that was next her daughter. He was sorry to crowd the carriage, but he had been just in time to catch the train, and he was obliged to rejoin his regiment before his truancy for the day should be discovered.

His apologies led to conversation, and his frank, honest bearing won the confidence of the mother. Before long they were talking and laughing together as if they had been close friends for years. When he quitted the train at Nancy he said adieu in a few words which

The widow Humblot soon forgot this incident, and thought her daughter had forgotten it too. There were many suitors for Antoinette's hand, for it was known that she had an income of sixty thousand francs. But she would have none of them, and at length confessed her secret that she loved the young officer. The mother had combated this whim, as she at first regarded Antoinette's passion; but finding that it was no whim, and that her daughter persisted in thinking of the unknown, she had come with her to Nancy to find the lover, and, if he were worthy, to offer him a wife and a fortune.

Very well, then," said Madame Vautrin; "all we have to do is to find the young man. Are you sure you should recognize him at the first glance?"

"Oh, among a thousand!"

"The search won't be either very long or very difficult. The garrison of Nancy is com posed of our regiment: a couple of squadrons of cavalry, and a few officers of artillery, and the general staff. I am not myself very well acquainted with Colonel Vautrin's officers, but my daughter has a complete collection of their portraits in a photographic album. We will begin with that."

"A thousand thanks, my dear Madame Vautrin, for your aid and kind sympathy. May God reward you by granting to your dear girl the happiness you will confer upon mine!"

Whereupon the two mothers embraced tearfully, and Madame Vautrin called to her daughter:

stopped. Beneath the portrait was written the name Paul Astier. "It is he," said she, making a face. "It can't be any one else." She slipped the card out of its frame, tore it into little bits, and put them into her pocket. Then reflecting that the vacant space would perhaps excite remark, she tore out the page which had served for a frame, and, when she had concealed its fragments, her little features were lighted up with a satanic joy as she muttered between her teeth:

fro in the large parlour like a little panther in a cage. She was ugly without an ugly feature, just as one sees sometimes a very pretty face with hardly a pretty feature. Every physical and moral defect of her awkward age was in her shown in an exaggerated degree. Her thin arms and legs were shaped like drumsticks, her feet were very long, and her hands interminable. Her movements were without grace, and her colour dark and without freshness. Her nose, eyes, and forehead seemed to

She ran down with the album to her mother, who thanked her, kissed her forehead, and said: "Now, my dear, you can stay with us; we have finished all our secrets."

And now only think how Madame Humblot's heart began to beat. She only glanced at the portraits of the superior officers, but when the captains began to defile before her, she opened wide her eyes. The regiment was not wanting in fine-looking men, but she thought with pride that all were less handsome and distinguished-looking than her future son-in-law. Blanchette grinned as she listened to her remarks, and said to Madame Humblot:

"If these gentlemen could only hear you, they would pick a quarrel with the prince who so far eclipses them all."

When they had reached the last pages of the album the little wretch became more wicked and malicious than ever.

"There are only four left," said she. "Hope is in the bottom of the box. Ah! now I have an idea that this is the hero of the romance. No? You won't have Lieutenant Bouleau? But he's a brave soldier. Rose from the ranks; been in service twenty-seven years; seen eighteen campaigns; has the military medal and the cross; and see what a lovely scar he has between the eyes."

"It is all over," cried Madame Humblot. "He is not in the regiment, and I am the unhappiest of mothers."

"No, no," said Madame Vautrin; "if he is not in the regiment, he must be either in the cavalry or the staff. Are you anxious to have the matter settled at once?"

"Oh, so anxious! Only think how that dear angel is counting the minutes at our hotel."

"Well, then, I will take my hat and shawl and go out with you. Blanchette will keep house for me like a good child.”

As soon as the two mothers were gone, Blanchette folded her two meagre arms, struck a stage attitude, then began to walk to and

her forehead shapely, and her eyes lustrous and with good lines. Perhaps it was only harmony that was wanting; but in a woman harmony is everything.

Blanche Vautrin would not probably lack admirers, for a well-dowried colonel's daughter, although ugly, could not fail of a husband; but she none the less was enraged at her lack of beauty, which she desired for itself alone.

Almost all her father's officers flattered her and treated her with as much consideration as if she had been Venus in person, though their cajoleries were always received with disgust and ill-humour. But though their flatteries, which she considered her due, brought her no pleasure, any omission of them was sure to provoke her still more; and while those who offered her this homage were treated with contempt, she hated those who refused it as rebellious and contumacious. The most bitterly execrated of all these rebels was Paul Astier.

He was a handsome, brave, and upright fellow, who had made his own way in life. The son of a forester in the wood of Ardennes, he had worked hard to acquire the rudiments of a good education, and at eighteen had enlisted as a common soldier at the beginning of the Crimean war. He had gone through the campaign without a wound, though a mine had exploded directly beneath his feet at the attack on the Malakoff. When he returned in 1856 he had been twice gazetted for gallantry, and had won his sub-lieutenant's epaulets. In 1859 he had exchanged into Colonel Vautrin's regiment, in order to take part in the campaign of Italy, and had found among the privates of his company an old friend and playmate with whom in boyhood he had bound fagots in the Ardennes. Bodin, who could neither read nor write, attached himself like a dog to him, and would have sacrificed his life to serve him. So, in spite of their difference in rank, their old friendship remained unimpaired, and when off duty the greatest familiarity of manner existed between them.

The campaign of 1859 was short, as every

young woman; disappear."

one.

She had obtained some time before, and with some trouble, one of Astier's sketches. It was a very funny caricature of one of the officers of the regiment, Major Sparrow, who commanded the second battalion. Paul had represented a sparrow eating a cherry, and the whole design, seen at a little distance, made an admirable likeness of the major and the major's nose; for this officer, a brave soldier and a good fellow, had, by his African habits, developed this feature to an unusual degree both of size and colour. Aside from this ridiculous defect, he was very much esteemed and respected by every one, and was on the best of terms with his subordinates. He had a high regard for Astier, who returned it fully, and for nothing on earth would have caused him pain; but youth and spirits and love of fun lead one oftentimes into malicious tricks, and when one has formed a good joke, he hasn't always the sense to keep it to himself.

So this sketch, tinted with water-colours, was brought one day to the mess-table of the subalterns, where it caused much laughter, and one of the other officers added to it an explanatory legend. After the dinner the matter was forgotten, and the sketch itself, in a damaged state, was left on one corner of the table. A friend of Astier, Lieutenant Foucault, picked up the sketch, folded it, and put it in his pocket, and, without thinking any harm, gave it to Mademoiselle Vautrin.

She returned to her chamber, opened a box, took the caricature, signed it with Paul's name in printed letters, put it in an envelope, printed upon it the address of Major Sparrow, and called her father's orderly from the door. "Old Schumacher," said she, "go and put this letter in the post-office, and let no one see or read the address. You won't read it yourself, I know; your education will forbid."

This second little crime weighed somewhat heavily upon her conscience. But then she excused herself by alleging the necessity of the act, and she knew that a duel between a major and a subaltern was quite impossible. The result of it will be, thought she, that Astier will get off with a week or fortnight of

"Well, mother."

"I don't understand it at all. We have turned over the cavalry, stared at the artillery, questioned the engineers, and passed in review the general staff. All the ladies have been so kind, and have aided us in every way, and shown the greatest interest in Madame Humblot. But we have been completely at fault. My head aches with it. Haven't you some idea of how it is?"

"Yes, mother." "Tell me, then."

"I have an idea that these two innocent people have allowed themselves to be humbugged by some joker who is no more an officer than I am."

Madame Humblot and her daughter came in the evening, and the sight of Antoinette gave Blanche a bitter pang.

Fancy the rage of a child who knows she is ugly, who has passionately longed for beauty, and has even imagined for herself an ideal of grace and elegance. All at once she sees before her the very incarnation of her vague desires, the person she has always dreamed of being. Another possesses in full completeness all the graces of person, all the charms of feature she has so fondly hoped for. It seems to her almost as if she had been robbed of her own proper personality, and cast-off garments had been thrown to her in charity.

But the young woman exercised some restraint over her feelings, and repressed her first impulse, which was to tear out Mademoiselle Antoinette's eyes. They shook hands, smiled upon each other, and exchanged without apparent effort the customary civilities. Soon they began to be intimate, and the candour and expansiveness of the poor victim was without limit. She could not for a moment doubt the sincerity and truth of the young man, or believe that he had made the slightest false pretences.

Antoinette liked Blanche, and at once accepted her as a friend and confidant.

This is what had taken place toward the end of the day. As Astier was folding his napkin