“I have news for you,” said Madame d’Albret, as she returned from the barracks, where she had been to see her sister off on her journey. “Your brother, Auguste, who you know has been away, has returned to rejoin his regiment, but has since obtained his rank in another, which is stationed at Brest.”
“Why has he done so, madame? do you know? have you seen him?”
“Yes; he was at the colonel’s; he stated that he could not remain in the regiment if his mother continued with his father; that he should never be able after what had happened to treat his mother with common courtesy, still less with the duty of a son, and therefore he preferred leaving the regiment.”
“And my father, madame?”
“Your father allows him to act as he pleases; indeed, he feels the force of what your brother says, and so does my brother-in-law, who has given his assent, as commanding officer, to your brother’s exchange. Auguste laments you very much, and the poor fellow looks very ill. I think he has done right, although it is a severe blow to your mother; but for her I have no compassion.”
“My mother never liked Auguste, madame.”
“No, I believe that; but what annoys her is the cause of his leaving his regiment, as it is open condemnation of her conduct.”
“Yes, I can understand that feeling on her part,” replied I.
“Well, Valerie, I did not return until the regiment was gone and the barracks cleared. You know the commandant always goes the last. I saw my sister safe off, and now I am here to tell you that you are no longer a prisoner, but may make yourself comfortable by roving through my apartments. But the first affair which we must take in hand is your wardrobe. I am rich enough to furnish you, so that shall be seen to immediately. And, Valerie dear, let me now say once for all, what I do not intend to repeat in words, but I hope to prove by my actions. Look upon me as your mother, for I have not taken you away from your family without the resolution of supplying, as far as I can, not the mother you have lost, but the mother which in your dreams you have fancied. I love you, my child, for you are deserving of love. Treat me, therefore, with that unlimited confidence and affection which your young and pure heart yearns to pour out.”
“Bless you, madame, bless you,” cried I, bursting into tears, and burying my face in her lap; “I feel that now I have a mother.”
Chapter Five
For several days I remained quiet in the little ante-chamber, during which Madame d’Albret had been busy every morning driving in her carriage, and ordering me a wardrobe; and as the various articles came in, I was as much surprised as I was pleased at the taste which had been shown, and the expense which must have been incurred.
“My dear madame,” cried I, as each parcel was opened, “these are much too good for me; recollect I am but a poor soldier’s daughter.”
“You were so,” replied Madame d’Albret; “but you forget,” continued she, kissing my forehead, “that the poor soldier’s daughter was drowned in the Seine, and you are now the protégée of Madame d’Albret. I have already mentioned to all my friends that I expect a young cousin from Gascony, whom I have adopted, having no children of my own. Your own name is noble, and you may safely retain it, as there are no want of Chatenoeufs in Gascony, and there have been former alliances between them and the d’Albrets. I have no doubt that if I were to refer back to family records, that I could prove you to be a cousin, some three hundred times removed, and that is quite enough. As soon as you are quite well, and I think in a week all vestiges of your ill-treatment will be effaced, we will go down to my chateau for a few months, and we will return to Paris in the season. Has Madame Paon been here?”
“Yes, my dear madame, she has, and has taken my measure for the dresses; but don’t scold me. I must cry a little, for I am so happy and so grateful. My heart will burst if I do not. Bless you, bless you, dear madame; little did I think before I saw you, that I should ever cry for joy.”
Madame d’Albret embraced me with much affection, and allowed me to give vent to my feelings, which I did, bedewing her hands with my tears. A week afterwards, everything was ready, and we set off for the chateau in Brittany, travelling in Madame d’Albret’s post-chariot with an avant courier, and without regard to expense.
And now I must make the reader somewhat better acquainted with my kind protectress. I little thought at the time that she offered me her protection, that she was a personage of such consequence, but the fact was, that her sister having made a very inferior match to her own, she, out of delicacy, while the Colonel and his wife were at Paris, avoided anything like state in paying them a visit, and I supposed that she was much in the same rank and society as they were; but such was not the case.
Madame d’Albret had married into one of the highest and most noble families of France. Her husband had died three years after their marriage, and having no children, had left her a large revenue entirely at her own disposal during her life, and wishing her to marry again, had the property entailed upon her children if she had any, if not, after her death, it was to go to a distant brand of the d’Albret family. I was informed that her income amounted to 60,000 livres per annum, besides her chateau in the country, and the hotel in the Rue St Honoré, which belonged to her, although she only occupied a portion of it. Her husband had now been dead more than ten years, and Madame d’Albret had not been persuaded by her numerous suitors to marry again. She was still handsome, about thirty-four years of age, and I hardly need say, was in the very best society in Paris. Such was the person who came to the barracks in so unassuming a manner, and whose protection I was so fortunate as to obtain.
I could dwell long upon the happy days that I passed at the chateau. There was no want of society, and the réunions were charming; and being in the country, I was allowed to join them, having been formally introduced by Madame d’Albret to all her visitors, as her cousin. My time was fully occupied. Madame d’Albret, perceiving that I had great talent for music and a fine voice, had procured me good masters, and wishing to prove my gratitude by attention, I was indefatigable, and made so rapid a progress, that my masters were surprised. Music and embroidery, at which I had before mentioned I was very expert, were my only occupations—and on the latter my talents were exerted to please Madame d’Albret, by offering her each piece as they were successively taken from the frame. So far from wishing to return to Paris, I was unhappy at the idea of leaving the chateau. Indeed, if the reader will recall what I have narrated of my former life, he will at once perceive that I could but be in a state of perfect happiness.
Until I was received by Madame d’Albret, I had lived a life of persecution, and had not known kindness. Fear was the passion which had been acted upon, and which, I may say, had crushed both mind and body: now all was kindness and love. Praise, which I had never before received, was now lavished upon me, and I felt my energies and talents roused, and developing themselves in a way that astonished myself. I had not known what I was, or what I was capable of. I had had no confidence in myself, and I had believed myself to be almost as incapable as my mother would have persuaded me, and everybody else. This sudden change of treatment had a most surprising effect. In the course of a few months I had grown nearly three inches taller, and not only my figure, but my features, had become so improved, that, although not vain, it was impossible for me not to believe what every one said, and what my glass told me, that I was very handsome, and that I should make a great sensation when I was introduced at Paris. But although I believed this, I felt no desire. I was too happy as I was, and would not have exchanged the kindness of Madame d’Albret for the best husband that France could produce; and when anything was mentioned by ladies who visited Madame d’Albret, to that effect, and they talked about my future establishment, my reply invariably was, “Je ne veux pas.” I had always expressed my regrets that we should be obliged