The heart of ivory E-Book

Max du Veuzit

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 294

Beschreibung

Monique Somesnil finds herself in a teaching position with Jack Saint-Angel, whose sister, little Maë, is crippled and requires attentive care. A spontaneous sympathy was born between Monique and Maë who, on the contrary, felt an instinctive hostility towards her brother's future wife, Yvonne Le Kervec. Monique's efforts to overcome Maê's aversion to the one she assumes to be nothing more than an intriguing woman are in vain, which provokes Jack's anger; he makes harsh accusations against Mo-nique: "You have surely represented to him in the guise of a stepmother a person I want to bring into my life," he tells him, furious. To these unjustified reproaches will be added an insult from Yvonne towards her that Monique cannot forgive. She prefers to leave, to stay away forever from Jack whom she loves in secret. "My beautiful dream is over," she repeats herself. But one day....

Leseprobe

The heart of ivory

Pages de titreIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXCopyright

The Heart of Ivory

Max du Veuzit

Max the Veuzit is the pen name of Alphonsine Zéphirine Vavasseur, born in Petit-Quevilly 29 October 1876 and died in Bois-Colombes 15 April 1952. It is a French language writer, author of numerous romance novels with great success.

I

The winter had been rough; although already was in the middle of March when this story begins, the wind, bitter cold, the kind just awakened from its winter sleep.

The sky was dark this afternoon then; big gray clouds stood out west and announced a next rain.

On the only road through Vassonville small village in Normandy, a group of mourning women returning from the cemetery and, as the wind floated their black shawls, they advanced, pressing not for the fear of the storm threatening to unleash on the campaign.

They were simple women's fields, those who leave the work only to go to church on Sunday, and it had taken the burial of Mr. Michel Somesnil to make them stop their work.

By touching custom of the country, where respect for the dead is deeper than in the cities, each had released for the occasion, black clothes and crepe condoms put away the boards cabinets and treasured since losing more or less distant from a parent.

They walked in silence, despite their numbers, and their faces glow fatherly wet poorly reflected the compassion that inspired them a girl, soft and sad figure who walked with an automatic and not as unconscious in the middle 'they.

That one, which seemed about eighteen, had a distinguished look under heavy black veils and, looking at her, one guessed the superiority of education she had on her companions. His eyes were red from tears shed and stifled sobs still escaped from her pale lips.

At a bend in the road, the group stopped.

- Here you are at home, miss Monique! said one of the women, turning to the girl. Come, courage! Must have an idea. These are not tears that will make the return, the poor dear man!

- At your age, it makes sense! made another. It's hard to be alone! ... But come, must everyone has his share of sorrows!

The one we had just appointed Monique stammered thanks and gently pressed the hands that reached out to her; then suddenly she opened the big wooden gate giving entrance to the garden above the house.

And while the women stopped a moment, hastily took the road from their homes, the girl crosses almost running space that separated the dwelling.

His hand in a mechanical movement, opened and closed the door; its tottering led her to the first floor, in the death chamber where the unfortunate child was collapsing to his knees at the foot of the bed, where two days earlier, her beloved father was still alive.

This house, so sad in this day of mourning, had, however, seen from the outside, look nice and welcoming, with its white facade, all flowered climbing roses and wisteria, rustic and picturesque canopy and tufts of hydrangeas blooming freely under the windows. The stranger passing on the road instinctively turned his eyes to this kind remains, perhaps having at heart the desire to cross the threshold.

Inside fulfilled this appearance of well-being, without luxury or foil. The light streaming through the large windows; walls, light colors, furniture tastefully arranged, the perfect order, everything was feeling, despite the modesty of all, a sense of comfort and peaceful rest. Everything was simple, but everything was in its place and in the eye met.

The room was entered Monique Somesnil was that of his father; although it differed little from other parts, however, it had its own charm and the observer there could guess the refuge of a soldier.

Indeed, Michel Somesnil, former captain of dragoons, stopped in the middle of his career with a war wound and the gas, which reached him deep lung, had kept in his forced retirement his habits of order and activity . Magnet cleanliness to minuteness, he hated draperies and curtains that stop air and retain dust in their folds.

But around him, how much more or less valuable memories had accumulated! ... Everywhere along the walls, photographs reminded him dear comrades, living or dead, who crossed his life, and a thousand different objects contained in two high windows, had long talked to him in their silent language, a world of memories.

How many times, seeing these relics of the past, captain of the eyes they had to be wet! ...

Above the bed stood a well-stocked range, the middle of which stood in a red velvet medallion, four cross and medals won by the soldier on the battlefield. And that's where he died, still young, in the midst of all that had been his life: that's where his unfortunate children came screaming his despair ...

Since the fatal moment when his father was dead, Somesnil Monique had walked as in a nightmare, expecting every moment to see stop that awful vision is the loss of a beloved. The alarm clock had been more severe, and now it was all over, the poor child was aware of the fact accomplished the irreparable had happened in her life and made her an orphan.

And while that outside the rain lashed furiously the windows of the house, Monique compared this to his past away.

She spoke of her childhood, a little sad, always with a sick mother; the long silences of the father after the death of beloved wife, too quickly removed the affection of his family; then the board to narrow gardens surrounded by high walls, where she had grown up while Michel Somesnil changed randomly country garrisons.

She remembered that, four or five times a year, leave days, he had to take it and get it out. As she was fearful, seeing him so bad! ... But how quickly she became familiar, feeling so dearly loved him! ... And a long shudder shook at the thought of paternal kisses. Finally, later, when he retired, he had always kept with him and since they lived there, in that little house where his mother was born.

The three good years the father and daughter had spent Vassonville! ... Sweet talks for two! ... Long walks, all-weather and all roads, made together, hand in hand! ... when evening came, he was reading the newspaper while she sang, accompanying himself at the piano and, when ten o'clock struck, what good kiss they exchanged, before leaving to win each his room! ... their beds were only separated by the thickness of the wall and often before leaving for the land of dreams, she typed, mutinied against the wall and, in a low voice, inquired if his dear dad slept. ..

Oh happy days that you are off! Never, never you will not come back! ...

As she took quickly this disease! ... A flu at first. But the damage had worsened. For two months, Monique had watched his father day and night with a dedication of every moment, trying to snatch the prey watching him in the shadows.

Still, he was dead ...

The storm redoubled outside. The silence of the room was broken only by the sobs of the orphan.

She called, "Daddy! "As if it had been able to hear and respond. She said to him:

- Come on, do not leave me ... Why did you let me ... Father, come get me!?!

His hands were stretched towards heaven in supplication, in a call gesture of desire and from there, tired of craving, she buried her head in the bed sheets and wept silently.

The day waned, the rain had stopped. In the campaign, you could hear cattle lowing, claiming the pittance evening.

Monique had subsided, the pain was less noisy.

She did not cry, but when their eyes met, despite the gathering darkness, an object that belonged to the dear departed, a tear glistened on the edge of her long eyelashes and a mechanical gesture, she faded.

At one point, a hairy body's brushed.

She first started, but suddenly:

- It is you, dear Fox ... she said, a wet voice. Your master, my good dog, your master is gone ...

And as if the brave animal understood its language, he barked plaintively, licking her face and hands.

In need of affection, the girl took the head of the spaniel in her arms; from this humble friend, she felt less alone.

Soon she got up, struck a match and his hand hesitantly approached a candle she knew was there.

Just light spread it in the room Monique's eyes fell on Christ money placed on a table between two lights near the plate on which a branch of boxwood dipped in holy water. In this view, she stepped back, eyes wide before the widespread funerary equipment in the room.

From the torpor kind annihilating which grief had plunged the girl had begun to tremble.

His youth could have become accustomed to the idea of ​​death and terror the haunted when she thought that just now his head was resting on the black cloth lame white mortuary layer.

Awful feeling ...

Deeply, she walked backwards towards the door, followed by Fox.

The heavy head, hands on fire, infinitely weary, she went down the lock from the house to lie down and, as she was not used to this loneliness - especially at night - and she in frightened, she took her dog with her in her room.

*

The days that followed the burial of Michael Somesnil were employed by Monique and a housekeeper, Rosalida, who treated the deceased, to put everything in order in the house.

His father's room was mostly under the care of the girl and that's where it began.

She took away the many small vials with red labels that had contained the useless remedies absorbed by the patient; Then it passed to several thousand items placed by here and there, in the confusion of the first moment.

His hand, touching, shaking very slightly.

Was it not something of the disappeared and she stirred? ... It was his past, he cared so much! And sometimes when something that was personal to him, his lips brushed, as a tear slid down her pale cheek.

Rosalida, the housekeeper, had understood that the only time mitigate the great pain of the orphan. Also avoided it, carefully, any hint worth it.

However, as she was curious, she could not help asking her one day when she put away her laundry with it in a cabinet:

- What will you do now, miss Monique?

- Do what? said the orphan, pausing in his work. About what are you asking me that? ...

- Lady! they say like that in the country, you are not rich enough to live off your pension!

Monique flushed the indiscretion of the woman, but starting to get used to its ways of language, she said, gently:

- They are right, those who say that. My fortune is not brilliant ... I will work!

- Working and where great God ... Not here, always ...?

- Indeed, but the land is vast and there are other countries that Vassonville ... I will go to Paris ...

- What will you do, damn ... Do not believe it is enough to go to Paris to become rich ... The capital is overcrowded and unemployment is more than elsewhere, since? we preached the return to earth. So ?...

The girl was a gesture of indifference.

- It takes me very little to live on. I still earn enough for me!

The question was asked Rosalida Monique was much embarrassed it. She was worried about her orphan status penniless and had seriously reflected on the course to take now to live.

When Michel Somesnil had felt ill, he had brought a notary and had agreed with him to ensure that his minor daughter the least possible worries, if it should fail him. A wise precaution, as seen since the death had taken so quickly.

A family council, meeting in a hurry, had dealt with the emancipation of Monique and when his father died, it had only a few formalities to get hold of the modest inheritance left him .

Although modest, indeed, since outside of the house and furniture that came from his parents, Mr. Somesnil owned nothing. He lived the board that the state paid him and it was by dint of economy he managed, in the last years of his life, to put a few thousand francs aside.

As the disease and all costs gushed diminished considerably small savings, Monique quickly realized she quickly see the end, if she stayed longer without work.

Fortunately for her, the effort did not scare him. She resolved to use as soon as his talents and education.

First, the girl rejected the idea of ​​leaving the house become so dear to her, in so many ways. She formed a thousand projects, each more extravagant than each other; a little common sense quickly showed him the impossibility of putting an execution. He had to leave ...

What could she do, really, in this remote corner of Normandy and what good diplomas, if she stayed there? ...

And as no city rather attracted than another, it was in Paris that she decided to go.

One reason, however, the pushing it.

The notary of his father, Mr. Dumont, who had come to see recently, knew his situation and he had offered to recommend her to one of her relatives in the capital, which was looking for a teacher for her daughter.

The idea to leave the country had not yet occurred to her, Monica had neglected this gracious offer, but now she realized that he must go to the city, she wished, without further ado, resort the good offices of the notary.

With this intention, she went to the neighboring town to see it. She had the satisfaction of meeting halfway the one sought.

He was a brave man, who promised to write the same day its parent. He even gave him the address of this lady, so that the girl could go in person for an answer on his arrival in Paris.

Monique highly thanked.

As she walked away, he remembered to ask her what she would do to the house that his departure would open.

- What I intend to do ... she replied, astonished. But keep ...

- What, you do not will rent ...?

- I have not thought ...

- Why ... I undertake to find you a serious tenant? it will be worth much more than let the uninhabited house. You would lose all your furniture and you gain nothing there ...

A melancholy pervades the orphan. She felt the hard necessity which she was to take advantage of its lower revenues. However, she replied without hesitation:

- I hope there will not be much damage; in any case, I will take the necessary precautions in order to reduce its importance. My desire is that no foreigner enters into master where my father was. It is sweet to me as the memories so dear to my heart are desecrated.

His imagination girl was going fast ... His absence would be short!; she would try to find something good paying, or an easy job to do at home, to return forever.

"With courage and perseverance, is that you can not succeed? ... she thought with faith. I feel that I will succeed! "

Our heroine was in the happy age when enthusiasm is strong enough to overcome adversity. But the experience was missing completely, and she imagined it enough to want to succeed and, not fearing the book, everything would work in accordance with his wishes.

Thus, never being out alone and not knowing Paris, she was leaving.

An old rentier country, Miss Juliant, having learned of his imminent departure, begged her to let her spaniel, she had always admired.

Monique consented.

The old lady was so pleased to have obtained the animal she strongly urged the girl to take the address of one of her friends, laundress in Paris, which could certainly be useful if the opportunity is in him presented. The orphan accepted politely and not to appear disdainful of the good intentions of the excellent person. She did well, as events soon demonstrate.

The last day before the date fixed for his departure by Monique was employed by her to make her trunk and say goodbye to all that she loved.

The first of these things did not last long; his luggage was light and when it was ready, she went towards the cemetery. She spent almost two hours there crying and talking to his beloved dead, who slept together in the same stone, their last sleep.

She begged them to bless the depths of the grave, and protect, there, in the big city where she was trying to make a living.

In turn, she swore extended hand to the cross surmounting the funeral monument to stay honest girl no matter what, and to always be worthy of the name without spot they had left him.

That done, she felt calm and ready to go.

Last night she went to his room was the softest since the death of his father. She stayed awake long to contemplate this small sanctuary all white, virginal real room she was leaving to come back, she did not know when ... But as she felt regret inflate her breast and tears wet his eyes, she closed quickly eyelids and tried to sleep.

The next day she was up before dawn, and about seven in the morning, a car came to take his trunks, to take her to the station. She sat resolutely beside the driver, after giving one last handshake Rosalida the mother, who had wanted to greet his departure; but when the turn in the road she lost sight of the little white house, where she had lived so quiet, she had to stiffen not to cry. And, doing violence to his sad thoughts, she tried to meet the banalities that retailed his companion, the driver of the car.

*

Among the travelers coming down to the Station Saint-Lazare, around noon, the train from Normandy, we noticed a young girl dressed in black and with big sad eyes curiously wandered over her surroundings.

The length of platforms, the vastness of the Great Hall, where more than twenty trains were ready to leave, the crowd pressing around her, caused her amazement that she did not think to hide her looks and, wandering all sides clearly showed his surprise.

She was so absorbed in contemplation that the employee attendant at the exit had to grab his arm to be understood.

- Come on! your ticket, madam! What! did you not hear me? Three times I you demanded it!

Monique handed his ticket and turned scarlet by being subject to the curiosity of people around him.

She hurried on.

Following the stream of travelers coming out of the station, she soon found herself in the Amsterdam street. Traffic was intense at this time and the girl, who was not accustomed to so much movement, felt very disoriented. Without the protection of the white stick agents, it would have remained long on the sidewalk before daring to venture to cross the streets.

Monique, quite bewildered, let himself be carried by the crowd. It really does not also know where to go. Completely disoriented, deafened by the continual noise of cars and honking, she felt a vague malaise that probably contributed the tautness of her stomach, which had digested since the day a cup of milk taken in haste in the morning, at the time of departure.

Everywhere around her, stood hotels and restaurants with more or less tempting menus. The desire of a good meal there was the conduct if they had been deserted; gold at this hour, they were packed and too shy, she could not decide on one cross the threshold.

She had also noticed bakeries and pastries, some of which had a kind of counter open directly onto the street. There was, for lack of better, what his hunger, but also found it difficult to eat in the street than go alone in a restaurant.

However, she saw bystanders, workers, young boys hastily buy a croissant or a sandwich and chewed to pieces. She even saw a strong man elegantly dressed, impeccably shaved, approaching the modest display, buy two rolls and skulk away while biting with greed which proved that this was his first food of the day.

This little fact that is repeated so often in Paris, had gone unnoticed by all but the orphan, whose great sensitivity and keen intelligence had seized every detail, felt a heavy heart.

This misery attached to this elegance made him see, from his first steps in the capital, what is mirage and trompe l'oeil in the busy and cheerful crowd rushing in the streets, and she felt her admiration for Paris greatly shaken while an instinctive distrust awoke in it against the inhabitants of the big city.

After all, since no one seemed to pay attention to it, why the girl would try it not also walking to lunch? The question of the meal would be resolved, and quickly.

- Too bad, she thought, a little bread and chocolate make up my menu; I will take my revenge this evening at dinner.

A fleeting smile crinkled the corners of his mouth at the thought of eating, too, in the street.

After further hesitation, she decided it timidly; and seeing this girl nibbling walking more than a bystander turned and watched her.

She was not, however, those that go unnoticed.

Monique was great; her slender figure was well taken; his face without being pretty, however, was very nice; she especially big brown eyes long fringed lashes veiled languidly; Finally, the silky mass of her chestnut hair just brushed back of the head, admirably suited her fresh complexion and small provincial pink.

It emanated from his person a stamp naive distinction, and many eyes converging she clearly said she liked to see.

When she had finished eating, she informed the way she had to follow to reach rue de Courcelles, where lived the parent of the notary. It was not too far to walk, and arrived about two o'clock to the address.

Ms. Boutel lived a charming two-storey hotel. A large door gave access to a large hall paved with white and black tiles.

Domestic air to cudgeled ran to the appeal of Monique inquired what she wanted.

- I want to talk to Ms. Boutel she replied. Notify the; I am the person that her parents had announced in a letter ... It must indeed expect.

The servant, who believed guess in a Monique petitioner replied with pretension:

- I do not think, my little lady, Madame can receive you at this time ... She's resting. You would have a word of introduction.

The tone of the man wounded the orphan.

- Anything. Notify me, 'said she, dryly.

The servant, fearing to be wrong in the judgment that was forming on the young visitor, went to inform his mistress after having previously, fired in a face newcomer who pretended to be a smile.

After a few minutes of absence, he returned.

- If Miss wants to follow me ... he prayed.

And he led him through several luxuriously furnished rooms, to leave her alone in a small blue boudoir.

"I wish the teacher is kinder than the domestic! ... It's nicely pretentious" thought the girl, who felt a growing discomfort since entering the house.

The habit to bend his back for a favor - let alone a job - completely missing.

She waited a long time Ms. Boutel.

As the minutes passed, fear gripped her to come too late.

After a quarter of an hour, thinking they had forgotten, she would decide to recall the home when no light told him the arrival of the mistress of the house.

She waited no longer, and his emotion was so strong that his legs trembled under her and she had to lean on the corner of a Japanese shelf that was within his reach. At the same time, she bowed to the one that had just entered.

Ms. Boutel was a woman of about thirty-five years, very elegant, thin, cutthroat and haughty appearance. She had a hard air that did not contradict his steely eyes hidden behind glasses surrounded by blond tortoiseshell.

Upon entry, she examined Monique who, in turn, looked at, intimidated, unable to open his mouth.

- You wanted to talk to me, miss?

The voice of the orphan shaken by answering:

- I do not come to you, madam, in person entirely unknown; Mr. Dumont, notary, one of your parents had you of my desire to be, if that is possible, the teacher ...

- Ah! well, I remember, interrupted the banker's wife. I am very sorry you remove this hope ... It is too late; here four days as an English teacher is with my daughter.

She briefly spoke and the words fell into his lip disdainfully.

- Too late, I had a presentiment, Monique stammered.

Before the collapse of all its projects, she remained silent, head bowed, wiped with a great desire to cry.

Ms. Boutel, the prolonged silence of the girl visibly annoyed, and apparently under the influence of excessive nervousness, threw him, by way of consolation:

- Well ! miss, what are you now? ... This seat is taken, I can do nothing! Besides, I think it is much better as well; I love the bright and determined people, and you do not seem to me to fulfill the conditions I would have demanded.

Monique raised her head quickly.

The indifference of the woman in front of her distress, her own sarcasm, cruelly hurt ... She was ashamed to have left guessing his disappointment.

- You are right, Madame. Providence does things in this case ... I was not made for you.

She quivered as he spoke.

However, these words were hardly say she's sorry, thinking that maybe the brave notary would inconvenience.

She watched for the effect on the face of Mrs. Boutel; but this one seemed more surprised than angry response from the green of the girl and advancing majestically toward the fireplace, she pressed her fingers with rings on the electric doorbell.

A servant came at once, the same who had introduced Monique half an hour before.

- Baptist, dropping off Miss.

A friendly hello from it was exchanged against an imperceptible nod of the proud woman and, a minute later, the orphan was left on the street, at the door she had crossed hopeful shortly before.

She mechanically took the road she had traveled to go.

She walked quickly, nervously, with haste to get away from the house where she had met with disappointments and heart drought. The ideas flowed confused in his brain and brisk walking responded well to his inner turmoil.

While squeezing her clothes against her to ensure the cold, she thought sadly.

Never before his retirement had seemed so great that at this time, when she wandered through Paris, ignorant of where it would rest at night.

Yes, she was very lonely, and in three or four hours a night, which was still early in the season, the surprise in his isolation.

All one had told him about Paris, debauchery and falsehood city where traps are hung under the feet of the innocent victims, returned to her memory, and as a child who is given the fear of the wolf, his fears in increased.

It included a little later how she had neglected the most basic precautions and trusting to chance. If she had dared, she would be returned immediately home.

Self-love, and also a bit of energetic character she inherited from her father, despite his apparent weakness, represented to him returning as cowardice.

- How, she said, the early difficulties, I would hedge? Come on! I have to fight and persevere if I want to succeed! I first find a place to spend the night and then I will shoot me through.

While thinking, and by a succession of streets and intersections all new to her, the girl had come to the Church of the Trinity.

In a street behind the monument, she noticed two or three signs announcing to passers-furnished rooms for rent.

She walked to the smallest of these houses and there was going to ask for information when she felt drawn by her dress slightly.

- I'm hungry, he sighed a small child's voice. I have not eaten since yesterday ... My mother is sick and we are seven at home. Bread, please, my good lady!

Monique stopped and, without thinking that this was probably feigned distress, she reached into her purse a piece of a free and handed it to the boy, while a gale was flying from her purse a folded paper she must move to draw his alms there.

The child, unaccustomed doubtless to such deals, and whose eyes glowed with pleasure, ran to pick it up and went to Monique.

- Thank you, miss, that God makes you ...!

He ran off.

The orphan was mechanically recover the small square of paper in his wallet, when his attention thither.

She quickly unfolded and a satisfied gleam in her eyes when she read:

Ms. Lesueur, ironer, Road Lepic, No ...

It was the address that the new mistress Fox had given him before he left and that she no longer thought right now.

"I am greatly paid, she said, referring to the last words of the little tramp. And if this lady is also obliging him to me announced it will consent to help me with his advice to find a decent room in my price. "

In the joy of that thought, she went to the Trinity and addressed a fervent prayer to Heaven.

When she came in, a police officer asked that she showed him the way.

It was not very far and, half an hour, Monique paused, deep in a courtyard in front of a small shop a little low at the front of which ranged freshly ironed linen objects.

- It must be there, she said, pushing the door.

Two busy workers who were folding laundry on a long table covered with a gray woolen cloth, looked up on it at its input.

- It is here that Ms. remains Lesueur? She asked.

- Yes, miss, it's me, answered a small woman and a little dumpy old already she had not noticed on entering.

At the same time, she wore a seat in the visitor.

- I'm afraid to bother you at this hour, Monique said, embarrassed by the presence of two workers, who would have preferred to be alone with the ironer. I can, if you like, go back to another time ... when the day of the girls is over ...

The old woman guessed the desire of the girl to talk to her in private. She examined a moment before answering, as the orphan had very good air, she opened a glass door to the workshop floor and beckoned him to follow.

- Enter here, miss; the book does not press right now. Sit down, we will talk better.

Monique sat down, comforted by the gentle warmth of the apartment which contrasted with the sharp cold outside. She noticed that his interlocutor was careful to position themselves so as not to lose sight of the apprentices who were chatting softly on the visit that was receiving the boss.

And while their assumptions were rife, Monique Somesnil be made known and explained to the old lady embarrassment of his situation.

- So this is my old Juliant has committed to come to me ... she asked, when the orphan had finished speaking?.

- Yes, ma'am, itself, made me expect your usual kindly agree to give some good advice to a girl unfamiliar with the habits of Paris.

- And this is the job you are looking for?

- Not yet, though it is my task tomorrow. For today, I have to find a place to spend the night.

- Ah! this is a bed for you! ... cried the ironer suspiciously. I do not see how I can be useful!

Monique knew that he had to dispel fears that the tone of the old woman revealed. She continued:

- My resources, although modest, allow me to get to the hotel. I have unfortunately not in the habit and I do not dare go there alone.

- Really. Are you so timid?

And as the girl, taken aback, did not answer, she continued:

- This is not a night?

- Oh ! no Madam. For several days ... for a long time, perhaps, it will depend on the job I find.

- And you are able to prepay the monthly rental of a small room?

- Yes, however, if the price is not too high, said the girl, who had become red with the question of his interlocutor.

This continued impassively to fix his little gray eyes, very awake.

A new silence followed, and then the old lady said:

- Business is bad, especially for a single woman; rents are rising continually and we try to take advantage of every nook and cranny. As my house is too big for me, leases it back to the second floor of a household staff. I also have a furnished room, at first, which is free for some time. It's a hundred francs a month, paid in advance ... it's cheap. The house is clean and serious. Never has there noise. I hesitated to re-rent because it is near my room, but you seem very quiet ... If this could be for you ... Come visit.

- Willingly. I'm not picky and I shall be content with little, Monique cried, happy at the thought of staying with a woman she knew was good despite his bogeyman appearances.

- If it is not your case, we will look elsewhere, said philosophically Ms. Lesueur.

While speaking, she took a key hanging on a nail and led the girl in a corridor, leaving the street ended in a rather dark staircase.

- It is not clear, but you soon get used to it, she said in the climbing! However, he is neither stiff nor narrow, it is an advantage for my old legs.

- It is very good, tried to meet Monique, who had to face the elbow to a joist beyond the wall, and that the pain had stopped in his ascent.

The old woman had seen nothing, she was busy opening the door of a small room, which she had already begun to list the advantages:

- It's not luxurious, you see. An iron bed, a table, three chairs and a small dresser. In this corner, there's a closet where you can store its effects. The room is freshly carpeted, window facing the street. Here, look, as is gay, this continual movement of people passing!

One sigh replied.

Monique was beautiful not be difficult - after living a delightful small room in a charming house - it could get ugly cramped office which boasted ironer available.

However, the fear of ending up at this hour and in this cold in the street, with the risk of spending the night in any hotel, made the girl agreed.

- It is understood, ma'am. I praise you that room. I content myself. Here the hundred francs that ensure my possession for a month.

Ms. Lesueur pocketed the coins and notes she held him, not without having first checked. That done, she suddenly became kinder.

- Well, I'm glad that the firm works for you, you are to me friendly and I would have regretted to see you go. I'm sure you like it here ... If you need anything, I'm at your service.

- Thank you Mrs.

- Do you have any luggage pick? asked the old, completely coaxed by the graceful face of the orphan.

In her soft voice, the latter replied:

- They're at the station; I left them there. Is it far, Saint-Lazare?

- No. A taxi, a quarter of an hour, and would return.

- Good. Before it gets completely dark, I'll take care of my development ... It will not be long.

They descended.

- I keep the keys, miss, because I, on my side, you prepare the bed and raise some items missing from the room and fill the water jug ​​from the dresser.

The girl hailed the first taxi she met and, an hour later, she was back to her new home.

II

The rays of a shy April sun filtered through the white curtains of the window and came to play in the silky waves of hair Monique when she awoke.

Under the thin fabric of his shirt, his body guessed flexible and graceful, and perfect lines of its members with thin ties have attempted to brush over a lover naked artist.