The Jeannette E-Book

Max du Veuzit

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

Seitenzahl: 146

Beschreibung

Married against her will to Pierre Latour, a rich man, but authoritarian and jealous, by the will of an abusive mother, Suzanne cannot forget Jean Ménard, her first love. Brutalized by her husband, she sees her mother gradually invaded by the remorse of having demanded a marriage that is the misfortune of her daughter. Desperate, Jean, on his side, got married, but "the past doesn't die so fast" and the two young people meet without everyone's knowledge. Will Suzanne be able to resist the temptation to run away with Jean to build their happiness elsewhere? Yet, a child is about to be born! Can she sacrifice him? Abnegation, renunciation, is this the fate of the one who, later, was defeated by misfortune, was nicknamed "The Jeannette" by the people of the country in memory of her unwavering fidelity to the memory of John?

Leseprobe

The Jeannette

Pages de titrePrologueIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIXIIXIIIXIVXVXVIXVIIXVIIIXIXXXXXIXXIIXXIIIXXIVXXVXXVIXXVIICopyright

Max the Veuzit

The Jeannette

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.

Prologue

On the terrace of a country restaurant located off of Auffay - town in the Seine-Maritime crossed by the main road from Dieppe to Rouen - a group of five young men was finishing lunch.

Four of them were students came with their families to spend the Easter holidays: the fifth, Victor Leblanche, was the son of an industrialist of the country.

This was not the least gay of all, judging by the laughter which he hosted the projections of his companions.

The merry band was in this state of semi-intoxication, while there is still enough reason to not understand what we do and pretty, though, to keep from doing and saying stupid things.

- I tell you the truth, exclaimed Victor Leblanche waving a brandy bottle half empty: there are, in this bottle, much more than it will now.

- When you have finished spouting nonsense, 'said one of the youths.

- Nonsense ! Where do you see in my words? ... You yourself, do not you go help me relieve this coarse content container whose sides are full of plump delicious beverage called "Fine Champagne" !

- Congratulations! Continuing, you become wise in your sentences!

- No. I will not go, nonchalantly replied the young man, stirring his coffee. Let us talk seriously instead.

- Comrades, you heard your friend? He boasts to talk seriously.

Circulated a smile on everyone's lips.

- You mock me, Paul Lame? Well ! listen: what shall we do tonight ... Are you serious, this?

- Unfortunately, yes ! It's getting boring, parties in the country.

- Do we find anything as unique as our occupations of the previous night? Now, Louis, in your quality of poet, shalt thou not a great idea to help us out?

- Looking in vain, said the arrested; we have exhausted all the delectable delights: Monday, we made the most delicious concert imaginable - with pots and old pots; Tonight, we attached cats with bells peaceful sleepy bourgeois. What now, after such beautiful things?

- We could hang dogs instead of cats.

- Thank you ! As much fish for frogs in the moonlight, than starting something already!

They were silent for a moment, each seeking, to himself, an inspiration that did not come.

- Gentlemen! Look, exclaimed suddenly, emphatically, one of the youths. What is this being hooded jutting out there, sweating, panting, being made?

- The "Jeannette," said one.

- His real name Suzanne Dorbat Latour widow corrected Victor Leblanche.

- Look! And where does it the nickname of "Jeannette"?

- Complete Ignorance! My father, for fifty years, it has always heard him give.

- Perfect ! Paul Lamé said sententiously. Asking him for an explanation, under the law that no one has the right to a name that does not belong.

- What code and which section? finely asked that his friends nicknamed him "the poet Louis."

Lame Paul shrugged.

- Simply, my dear, I have issued this clause to make it law today. Therefore, the chain train.

- That's it ! cried in chorus the merry band rising quickly.

- No nonsense! said Victor Leblanche seriously trying to retain, Ms. Latour is an excellent person, who has a lot of piety; I know from my childhood, my parents think I should be sorry that we missed him respects.

- We take note of your protest; but, meanwhile, do not strip apart.

The young man followed his friends.

At this time, the one he was matter was separated from the group of a few meters. In an instant, the five young men, holding the hand, had surrounded.

- On behalf of all the holidays in students, we represent, we summon you to stop, Jeannette.

- Pranks! said the old lady without getting angry while trying to cross the circle of his pursuers.

- Beware! Paul said Lamé with affected seriously. Do not aggravate your case by trying to resist, or ransom will be stronger!

- Let me go, children; I will serve you, when you will come to me, a great snack.

- We need better than that!

- A bottle of milk before bed? continued with quizzical indulgence little old.

- Horror! they cried in chorus.

- What do you need so young fools?

One out of current students said, raising his voice to give his words a tone of proclamation:

- We ask the citizens present here, why she, Suzanne Dorbat Latour widow, is generally called the "Jeannette"? She warned that if she refuses to answer, an escort of honor himself will be made up his house by five of us, that is to say all of us.

The old lady looked down. A cloud of sadness passed over his face at the question of the young man.

"Louis the poet" perceived, and as a friend of the Muses, he was receptive. Leaving the hand of his companions, he gave way to the prisoner.

- Go, Madame Latour; we just made you trouble without meaning to.

- No, my friends; events that your question has passed before my eyes are always present in my heart. By alluding to, you could not sadden me. Only, what you ask is quite a story and I can tell you, there in the middle of the road. Come this evening, at home, spend the evening, and I promise not to bore you.

- Congratulations! a small ban in honor of our future hostess!

The merry band began to clap with enthusiasm, and the old woman resumed her slow walk, a melancholy smile.

In the evening, our friends gleefully headed toward Saint-Denis. While walking to brighten up the road, they played the most discordant tunes on a "doggerel" each of which was fitted.

After half an hour of walking, they reached a rather large house that surrounded a large garden. Through the wrong shuttered, some light filtered.

- Here, said Victor Leblanche: we are expected.

They entered the enclosure and arranged themselves around the threshold continuing to run, screaming their instruments, a popular tune of the time.

The barking of a watchdog to it being mixed, it was for a few minutes, the most hellish pandemonium that quiet corner had heard a long time.

Soon, their din, the door opened, and the owner of the house appeared in the opening.

- Young fools who, smiling, come hear the dramatic story of a lifetime of tears! What good stop here? Take the path of Auffay, sadness is not for you.

In a flash, kazoos had disappeared into the pockets of our friends.

- A promise is due, Ms. Latour! You told us a story and a café; you must serve us.

She stepped aside to let them in.

After being installed around a large table on which six cups filled with great coffee, were soon asked - she began, in a voice tremulous age, the following story:

I

The story of the old landlady

I have not always been the old woman with white hair and leathery cheeks as I am today.

In the past - there is that fifty years - I was a seventeen year old girl with red lips and black eyes.

Was I pretty? ... We often called me, and I believed easily, without admitting it yet, because my mother did not allow me to listen to the many suitors who fluttered around me.

She watched over me like a dragon guarding his treasure; and besides, I was one for her, since, having only my child, all his ambitions were concentrated on my young face.

My mother was one of those women - many in the countryside - who, having struggled for many years to amass, penny by penny, a little ease, know the value of money; and if, in his life of toil, she was greedy, she remained thereafter, thrifty and avaricious same.

Nevertheless, by pride, to make me a "young lady" and to make some jealous former companions who were less successful than herself, my mother had sent me three years pension.

Meanwhile, she inherited an old uncle, who left him, dying, all he had, and when I came home, I found all upset.

The modest white wood furniture and oak, which, until then, had decorated the kitchen and bedrooms, disappeared and were replaced by others in mahogany; gleaming brass dethroned the modest melting pots, and crystals, behind the windows of the buffet, had succeeded the coarse glasses of yore.

I was delighted with the changes. It would be at least when seventeen years!

However, after a few days of intimate life with my mother, many of my illusions were gone.

I had figured that since we were rich - with respect to our former position - my mother would be less stiff in daily reports and it would lose some of its parsimony.

It was not the case, alas!

All day I heard him yelling at one or other of two maids she occupied, and often the reason for his complaint was based on a failed match, too worn candle, or a salad in which they had formed green leaves.

For my part, I had no reason to complain; my mother refused me anything, except a white small coin in my pocket or a moment of freedom - she counted them even more thoroughly than grains of salt soup! - I always put coquettishly, and his ambition was fulfilled when, on our way on Sunday, going to church, she heard say

- Huh! Is it "fun" little Dorbat! What she has finery!

At the time, I wondered why my mother, who is deprived of everything - for over ten years, she wore the same dress - was so generous to me.

I understood later; she hoped that a good marriage would crown his work, while ridding it of evil that caused him excessive monitoring which it surrounded me. But I was not very difficult to keep.

On a slightly musty character, I was quietly work they assigned me the task, and when I had finished, quietly, I earned my room to immerse myself in reading a price book.

One Sunday morning we went to Mass and walked hurriedly because we were late.

While stepping out alongside my mother, I put on my gloves and I lost one, without noticing on.

I would have probably not recovered, and it would have earned me, more likely, a green warning if a young man, who, too, was going to the office, do have found.

Judging perhaps, the size of the object, it could only belong to a young person, and that among the girls of the country, there were only "miss Dorbat" who should bear gloves skin, he started looking for me.

We arrived near the church when he joined us.

I had already noticed, with horror, the loss of my glove, and I dared not tell my mother, when a voice made me turn:

- Miss, told me a stranger, I just found this glove on the way, would it not yours?

- Yes, sir, I exclaimed with a sigh of relief, as my eyes got up on him, all shining with gratitude.

- How! cried my mother, you lose your glove and you do not notice you! Can we conceive such negligence! I'm sure there has already long since you no longer, and you do not worry took ... Where did you find? She added, addressing the complacent gentleman who examined me with interest.

- A few steps from here, he replied with an imperceptible smile at the corners of the lips.

I gave him a new look of thanks along with admiration because he did have a quarter of an hour that the object of the offense had disappeared, and his strides had to be him nicely large to deal with them " a few steps ".

I look thank you, he answered with another admiration - though I was young, I did not deceived me. I blushed like a poppy and joined my mother, already murmured against the time we had just lost.

My attention, during the service, was slightly diminished by the memory of my unknown friend, as already I called.

After completing the first part of the Mass on the prayers of vespers and taken to the gospel of "Advent" for the "Lent" I was happy to see the end come.

Upon leaving, I saw near the font, the one that had caused me so much distraction.

He dipped his fingers in the holy water and handed them to me; new looks, new redness on my part, and, this time, in addition, a small "toc" in my chest.

When we were in the street, my mother, of course, came the incident, and made me suffer a reprimand in order.

I bore it with a silent submission, and this the more I knew that by not apologizing, I had a chance as it was cut short.

Indeed, half an hour later, my mother spoke more. Then, despite my desire to know who my unknown of the morning, I did not dare ask him.

I preferred to speak to Celia, one of our servants, and, when the opportunity presented itself to me the question, I seized the hair - not the servant, not the opportunity ...!

- Hey, Celia, you know the country a young very friendly and very nice man?

- It's a little vague as information. All the young people here are very friendly and very nice.

I opened my eyes in astonishment: most boys I met seemed to me ugly, with their implementation of peasants and their faces tanned by the sun; but as Zelie was twenty-five years, she had to know better than me, and I gave him a detailed picture of my unknown.

- A young man not very big, which has black eyes, very white and very small hands; He looks very sweet.

- He is brown-haired ?

- Yes.

- With a little clearer mustache?

- Yes.

- It could be the son to Mr. Ménard.

- The son of former teacher who taught me to read?

- I think so.

- Ah! I did not know that his son still dwell country ... and what is he doing here?

- His father died two years ago and took him a little farm he assembled and arranged with all kinds of things, like in the books. even said he would have done much better to work the land in the way of everyone: innovations usually ruin their supporters.

I left Zelie go home, and I was sitting under a honeysuckle arbor, I began to think about what she had just said.

At that time, my mother passed by there and saw me.

- Always doing nothing, Suzanne; even on Sundays, we must not be unoccupied! ... Accompanies Zelie will make a commission at the castle.

I did not do me say twice, and quickly putting a hat, I followed the girl.

While walking, I told him about my adventure in the morning. For several hours, I was only thinking that.

Suddenly, at a bend, I saw the man who had been the hero.

Zelie laughed.

- Well, Suzanne; behold, Mr. Ménard!

- Yes, I said softly. So do not shout so loud! If he heard! ...

But the maid, once part was hard to stop.

- Hello, Mr. Jean, her she cried, what are you so close to the Rose Garden? (The Rose Garden was the name of our house.) We are a gentle dove, she continued, pointing to the eye! Unfortunately Dorbat lady holds hidden for fear of daring.

My mother did not need to be there to keep me hidden. From the first words of Celia, I was hidden behind her. Seeing this, she resumed with incredible audacity.

- Well, now that Suzanne was afraid of you now, and when you're not there, it does not cease to speak to you!

I took my courage in both hands and, finally showing me, I protested against these words:

- Do not believe, sir, Zelie likes to tease people.

- On the contrary, miss, 'said Jean Ménard with a long look at my address, I would be too happy if you really deign to look after me.

I looked down, again intimidated.

- We go to the castle, Jean; we accompany you? Zelie asked.

- With pleasure, said the latter.

I stopped.

- No, Zelie; Mom would be upset if she knew we were in good company.

- Bah! she will not know it; it's not me who'll tell him. Are you coming, Mr. Jean?

A shadow passed over the face of Jean Ménard.

- No, he replied. Just miss that Dorbat has expressed the desire that I accompany point for me to take this desire as an order.

- Thank you, 'I said softly; this is better as well.

I dared to reach out to him; it only grazed the tips of my fingers. I thought I had upset and I followed a heavy heart, Zelie, who shrugged.

- You'll find Suzanne, opportunities to have some fun, if that's how you benefit.

- But, since it was wrong!

- Wrong ! Really ? And what do you see wrong with this young man accompany us?

- I do not know, I replied with a great desire to cry. It's mom who said he did not talk to young gentlemen.

- The teacher is tough, she forgets that she has had your age and at that time, his mind was not always mending stockings and knitwear.

I was surprised to hear the girl speak, and as I did not really understand what she said, she immediately grew in my imagination.

II

The following Sunday, I saw Jean Menard in the square, among other young people.