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Max du Veuzit

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

Seitenzahl: 239

Beschreibung

Unable to bear the yoke that an authoritarian aunt puts on her for any longer, Isabelle revolts and flees to Paris. What can a 20-year-old orphan girl do without relationships, almost without resources, in this big city unknown to her? Isabelle studied singing. She managed to get involved in the troupe of a lyrical theatre. Very quickly, we court her. A regular behind the scenes, the rich and cynical Henri Talaine, is trying to seduce her. He can't do it, but Isabelle is troubled... One evening, luck came along: a singer fell ill, Isabelle replaced her as Lucie de Lammermoor. It's triumph, glory, a contract for America! Deeply in love now, Henri suffers. "Swear to me that I will find you free in a year, when you return," he asks. Moved by her upset face, Isabelle replies: "I swear to you. But, one year later....

Leseprobe

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Max the Veuzit

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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

- Are you satisfied with Isabelle? inquired in a tone of Empress Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet.

- Mademoiselle your niece sang very well today, Madam, hastened to meet the humble voice teacher who came every other day in this monumental, to cultivate the voice of the pupil of Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet.

- It seems to me, answered haughtily latter, the vocalizations of my niece were less smooth than usual.

- I do not think, Madam, protested the artist. Miss only twenty years and it seems necessary not to force his voice. I form without fatigue; little by little, we get to the full extent without a hitch. Is not the wisest way to be helpful to my student?

- Uh! I do not know if, really, this is the best way to learn was pretentiously the old lady. My grandmother, Isabelle Fouquet was already singing at the Opera at the age of my niece, and her talent was imposed on all.

- Miss Fouquet had to have a wonderful voice, nodded the professor, with an admiration that sought to flatter the hostess.

- A voice of beauty, indeed, affirmed it, bridling. The legend says that my grandmother, when she sang, silenced the birds themselves, who stopped whistling to better listen ...

Behind her, a laugh repressed evil came to cut him off.

Furious at this disrespectful mirth, the arrogant woman turned to a girl of about twenty years, she glared at him.

- You do not have to laugh, Isabelle, an indisputable thing of which it is traditional home to be proud!

The arrested looked down, embarrassed by the imperious eyes.

- Learn, silly, continued the lady, that our grandmother, Isabelle Fouquet, was presented in 1825 our beloved King Charles X, who complimented him "his brother chirping and a pretty face."

The incorrigible mocking had to bite his lip to prevent another burst of laughter.

- If you wanted to seriously study music theory instead of mindlessly humming a bunch of insignificant airs, maybe would you understand better the admirable talent of our singer and would you seek, if not the match, at least in the imitate.

- Oh ! protested the girl with humility, I have neither the chirping or the beautiful figure of the illustrious ancestor.

Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet stared haughtily insignificant girl.

- Ah! Certainly not! Sadly ! You do not take our grandmother, not at all. You are far from pretty, you!

And, turning to the singing teacher who listened with embarrassment this exchange of thoughts, she explained:

- When his mother asked me to name and keep the baptismal font, I hoped she would do honor to our family. High with high thinking of our former glory, Isabelle could have tried to raise the banner of the great singer.

- Miss serious consideration, however, intervened generously Professor.

- No, madam! replied the terrible woman. She sings, she bleats, it squeaks; it is not called to sing this!

- Sorry to contradict you, insisted the singing teacher. The voice of my student is lovely and reached a magnificent scale in the high notes.

- Absolutely like the rattle of the well by dry weather, 'said the lady who did not admit the contradiction and that the intervention of a woman she paid, doubly irritated. Besides, she continued, I do not know if it would not be more reasonable to me to stop these singing lessons are useless. Isabelle will never give new luster to our name.

- I am not worthy of such a beautiful job, said the girl sadly.

- Yes, it is really superfluous than paying for you something.

- It is especially unfortunate, aunt, it is not you that is responsible, twenty years earlier, to revive the great artist. Surely, you would have been more capable than me.

The singing teacher threw stealthily, a look at his pupil. She wondered if, really, the girl thought what she said.

Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet had not had a hesitation, she! The compliments bestowed his niece could only be earned.

- Of course, she agreed, I would have brought my task more zeal and pride you. My poor mother, alas! widow early and without fortune, could not pay me the necessary teachers ... teachers I pay you, me! insisted she harshly. And, she continued, when Mr. Rabel later had married me and made rich, he did not allow his wife to face the opera chandeliers. I had to resign myself to being a submissive wife, virtuous, and ...

- And bourgeois, Isabelle finished softly.

But the other had seized the word.

- How? she asked, willing to take the bit between his teeth. What do you mean with your "bourgeois wife"?

- Yes, the girl explained candidly. You were a bourgeois lady and not a star, an artist, as you had the soul.

- And as I have been certainly the talent, completed another without false modesty.

Again the thoughtful look of the singing teacher stood up to the two women.

"How two creatures as different can they live in daily contact, under one roof, without suffering terribly? She thought. One is arrogant, pedantic and stupid; the other, very simple, spiritual and good girl. Really, Providence has been pleased to put the contrast between them ... But she says with a sigh, little is penniless and completely dependent on her aunt, the strength to endure many things . "

The she guessed the thoughts widow of Professor? One would have thought, for without transition, she watched her peremptory tone:

- Anyway, Isabelle, I want to tell you that if you do not give me more satisfaction with your singing, I will suspend your lessons; I do not want to keep paying for a little foolish unworthy of my kindness.

- What must I do more than I do? asked the orphan wearily. Ms Morice is satisfied with me ...

- Mrs simply little. I am more demanding me. I pay and I want my money! Three years ago you hang on this act of Lucia di Lammermoor; do you think it's interesting for me to hear you always sheathe the same?

- This act is very hard, Madam, remarked the professor. Miss Isabella came to sing to perfection ... It is no small compliment, I assure you! Ask true artists, they will tell you that this passage of Donizetti's score is one of the finest of musical art.

Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet was going to find some inept and disparaging reply when she remembered in time that Ms Morice was seen in this town of Vernon, where they lived both as one of the best and most conscientious teachers.

So it was better to spare the still, since it would be difficult to replace advantageously.

- You are happy to Isabelle, this is the main, dear lady, she simpered. But at the slightest failure of your student, please warn me. I undertake to bring to reason that bad head.

Sorry to see so unjustly slander the girl, Mrs Morice took in haste, the two women leave. It truly suffocating in that room too luxurious, where every object seemed to require the admiration of visitors; between this woman and this haughty and wicked pale young girl, pensive, who was trying to remain calm in the storm.

But when the teacher was gone, Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet could speak freely. Nobody was there to hold his excitement and stop his complaints. For an hour, Isabelle had to hear all the string of lamentations of her aunt.

It reminded him, bluntly, that her mother, despite the advice of his own, had married a man without fortune, and that three years after her marriage, she was glad to take refuge in Vernon with her little girl.

- Yes, my dear, your father had found nothing better than to leave his wife and child to seek his fortune elsewhere! Your mother trusted him, she was convinced he was going to write to him and send him money; she never received anything! So it was completely my responsibility and I could surrender to public assistance, when she died a few months later removed by grief and privation endured with a careless and lazy husband.

Isabelle bit her lips to not respond.

Twenty times already she had heard the same story and suffered similar reproaches.

Certainly, it was far from excusing the silence of his father; but she would not judge him, not knowing exactly how much truth there might be in Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet's account and not ignoring the contrary, how it knew embroider on the least thing .

So she tried to remain silent and to drape in an apparent indifference.

But this attitude was not the case of the terrible woman who evoked these memories for the pleasure of humiliating the girl.

- I do not know, my poor Isabelle, if you do realize your situation to me. You are my niece, of course, but it is nonetheless true that I raised you out of charity, and that if, overnight, I stopped to take care of you, he would do well to starve.

- I've already asked you, Aunt, for allowing me to earn my living. I could have, like so many other girls, learn a trade and meet the expenses of my existence. You've never wanted ...

- Because you are good for nothing ... able, at most, to a girl backyard or a dish washer. I can not still accept my brother's granddaughter occupies a humble job!

Isabelle shrugged she knew she could have been better than a servant, if he had been allowed to seek work outside.

- You have never admitted that I could do something other than singing, she remarked sadly. I had succeeded the great grandmother! Is it my fault if my voice does not reach the beauty of his and my vocal cords so inadequate?

- Ah! You are very happy to throw in my face your lack of ability. I saw great for you, but you are lazy and stubborn; effort repugnant to you and you get stuck in the well-being where I smoldering you. While the portrait of your father, my dear! It's got to be others who take your job and take care of your burden; you are unable to earn a living.

- Again, let me work outside, my aunt.

- It will come, it will come! I can not show me still ridiculously good!

And very proud of this long scene where she had been at ease "down a peg" to this small, the imposing Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet left the room where the orphan remained slumped in a chair.

*

When his aunt had gone, the girl looked up.

- Oh ! That can not continue ! She whispered. It is not possible ! I can no more!

She stood up, took a few steps in the lonely room, then, distracted, hands clasped in a gesture of prayer:

- My God ! have mercy on me ! She pleaded. I'm too miserable, my courage is exhausted!

The head on fire, hiccupping sobs too long tablets, Isabelle went up to his room.

And then, once the door was closed, some being quite alone, she dared to indulge in despair.

- My mother, protect me, you, from up there, see your child unhappy. You too, you had to know the reproaches of this woman and the excruciating bread flavor it gives! We then I go join you, I also die to escape it? ... This woman is evil. Oh ! I would like to be away from her ... oh! yes, from ... anywhere but not hear his biting voice. Work, live alone! Only, perhaps, but without insults, without reproach! Eat only dry bread, but do not cry at the table with stomach tight as in a vice ... Living well ... live!

Long, she rambled. Then came the evening.

A maid came warn that Madam was already at the table. It must have seemed to dinner because her aunt had not admitted without luster, it stealing it.

His face ravaged by tears lifted the spirits of Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet

- You are beautiful, my dear, she remarked, laughing. Tears are fine you and our servants can play to their heart's content tonight with you in mind.

Isabelle did not answer. What mattered to him the views of domestic aunt! And besides, was it true that they might rejoice in her grief? They too knew the harshness of the lady.

Of course, this is hardly the girl ate; she was not hungry, and his chest was still so full of tears that food seemed to go down.

As soon as she was able to leave the dining room, she rushed to her room.

And only finally certain not to be disturbed at this hour, Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet usually going to play cards with friends, Isabelle began a singular work.

On the cupboard, she pulled a yellow leather suitcase and a large tapestry bag she had taken two years to make, once at school.

In one, she put some of his clothes: the best, that is to say one that seemed likely to last the longest. Then she put her little memories: photos of his parents, some family papers left at his disposal, his booklet savings bank which contained the tidy sum of eight hundred francs, a fortune that she had saved, cent by cent, for six years, taking care of the chickens of Mrs. Rabel-Fouquet, who, to be sure to eat fresh eggs, agreed to pay for his niece, provided it assumed fully charges the henhouse.

"She can eat ten chickens under my care, thought the orphan resentfully. They are mine, since I bought them for my purse ... it will be repaid much of what I owe him. "

For, in his desire to flee away and make a living, there was also a strong need to compensate one day her aunt money spent on it.

" Oh ! to give him everything she did for me! she thought often hard. It can not reproach myself that I cost him! "

She saw that these hardware details. In his soul ulcerated by so many bitter reproaches, she forgot the gesture even her aunt keeping close to her, in the actually be preventing an abandoned child, was one of those no amount of money can compensate.

How many people can a play like Ms. Rabel-Fouquet, and lessen the decrease by importunate reproaches under which unintentionally debtors not end not to see!

And so Isabelle, in her distress, neglected the right moves his aunt had sometimes had with her to remember only the bad times ...

In the other bag, Isabelle put the best of his clothes and his shoes.

It was not a wonderful wardrobe than that possessed the girl, but for her, who proposed to live from work, it was necessary.

On the pillow of his bed had not been slept and, prominently, the orphan left a letter written long ago for her aunt. She advised it of his departure, urging him not to make it look as it wanted to live alone, working, and that no argument would force the back to Vernon.

"You will not see me that if I succeed, my aunt, because I want to prove that I am less stupid and less lazy than me you've always criticized. I also want to compensate you for all your generosity to me and this thought gives me all the courage.

"You can tell your friends that I went with your consent.

"I do not belie this version for the simple reason that I will not write any of our knowledge; it is another completely new life I want to live and I do not need any reminder demoralizing to lessen my effort. "

Followed a few lines correctly affectionate because Isabelle had principles and would not have wanted to be embarrassed one day a disrespectful word uttered or written in a moment of anger.

This letter, it had long weighed all the terms, because, for many weeks, the dread of leaving the pursuing.

In advance, it had settled all the details of that first trip out of the nest, and now that the time had come to realize, it was certainly as if she was playing a long scene repeated.

At eleven o'clock, she opened her window overlooking the garden behind the house.

Using a strong rope attached to the balcony, she got her two suitcases. Then, after a last glance to his room to make sure she left her tidy and there she forgot anything, she slipped in turn, along the rope.

The watchdog we put every evening free in the garden, licked her hands.

It was his walk comrade. Together they had many trips ...

- Yes, my friend Tommy, you're beautiful! I'm leaving you see, and our good parts are finished ... It's you I regret the most, and it may be you who forget me the least ...

A door at the back of the garden, overlooking a dead end that allowed to serve all the neighboring gardens. Isabella opened it as gently as possible, because the hinges creaked miserably.

And after a last look at what had been his life so far, this garden that she cultivated, this barn converted by him, this dog, faithful companion of his antics, she went out and closed the door.

- Farewell everything ... To God vat!

She knew that at the station the train stopped at eleven forty-five hours.

In the black night and the streets deserted at this hour, she reached the station.

Without hesitation, without regret for what she left seriously, boldly, Isabelle boarded the train and rolled to Paris ...

She knew that no one was waiting at the finish, no friendly hand would be there to guide and assist her first steps, but there was so much bitterness accumulated in his soul that it was all misery likely to encounter it seemed preferable to the easy life but saturated reproaches she had experienced so far.

*

For a week, Isabelle Paris ran all day looking for a job. Completely ignorant of the means employed by the Parisian workers to find work, the orphan had thought it would be enough to show up in business houses, providing services to easily get work. And, for a week, the girl was from house to house, from door to door almost everywhere turned away without once you have listened to his request favorably.

Sometimes we told him sympathetically:

- We needed someone these days; Now, the place is taken!

Elsewhere please, we added:

- Iron. Sometimes it may be ...

But more often, we hosted a very dry statement:

- No need, miss, we do not need anyone!

And now she was tired, infinitely tired, to the point that the night before, she had thrown herself, overcome with fatigue on his bed, promising himself not to continue as a demoralizing research.

"Since my efforts fail, useless to continue. It should certainly do things differently than I do to succeed. "

For its small provincial ingenuous eyes, it was a real delight to see out of the houses the stream of countless workers of all kinds who were employed there.

"But how do they do, these, to find work? she wondered in amazement. There are thousands and thousands who have an occupation. And among so many places, it does not rest for me! "

And that morning, instead of being out early, as was her habit, she remained in her room, uncertain of the party to take to fruitfully continue his research.

Sadly, she remembered his courageous arrived at night in the big city.

How beautiful casually, that night, she had asked for a room at the hotel! The high prices demanded by the waiter service, had done a little reluctant, but she had quickly resigned to this first breach made in his small savings.

- Tomorrow, I will seek a cheaper room.

arduous search that had cost him a day, however. The same night she slept in another room, rented for a month.

- Three hundred francs is a very big sum for me, but it's still cheaper than hotel.

By accepting this house, the courtyard, the sixth a very clean building, the girl had hoped to find work immediately.

- As soon as I set my daily gain, I will hold me to balance my budget without touching more to my little nest egg.

Beautiful resolution that did not depend on it to be able to hold, as the days followed one another without making improvements to their situation.

The orphan, who had a terrible fear of melt her small capital, dared not engage in any spending, so that for three days she was satisfied at every meal, a piece of bread and some fruit bought from carts in the street.

Such a plan was not made to support intact energy of the girl. His stomach, malnourished at an age where hunger is still compelling, gave him deaf tightness whose impact, without her realizing it, altered his usual good humor.

That morning, everything seemed dull and unpleasant to him that vulgar bedroom, rent so high yet, this refuge that in twenty days, he would have to leave or pay again; this dress, which, badly cut by a small provincial seamstress, was of the one delivered in bad taste; these shoes he would soon make resole; this little tasty bread that was in need of a lick of butter to pass more easily.

All contributed to make Isabelle melancholy. Which way she turned, she saw only despair material.

Not knowing what decision to take, seeing no way to get by, she remained pensive at his little table, his head raised toward his open window, mechanically contemplating the thousands of chimneys that populated his horizon.

- Ah! it is disappointing Paris! Until his sky that is hidden behind the tall houses ...

At fifty meters from his window, another window was outlined in the angled wall with his. Sometimes a woman's face appeared in the doorway and greeted Isabelle a slight whim.

The few times the girl had seen her neighbor, she answered the same inclination front; Then, quietly, she retired to the bottom of his room, instinctively afraid of getting unwanted relationship she had lamented afterwards.

That day, down in his dark thoughts, the orphan had not seen him open the window so close to his.

She did not see more fresh face that framed it and turned towards her, stopped a moment to observe it better ...

It was the young voice of the unknown who drew from his reverie:

- We will have a beautiful day today, I think.

Isabelle started.

- Yes, she said mechanically, looking up to that which called out.

- It is not too soon as the sun returns, said the other cheerfully. These three days of rain were well boring ... especially for those who live far from their work.

- The rain is never pleasant, answered the orphan, unhurried.

But the other did not seem to notice the tone of his interlocutor. She saw it again in his room at a time when she used to be outside; on the other hand, she had seen her sad and discouraged; that was enough for the newcomer in Parisian sparrow both curious and complacent, should desire to learn.

- You do not work today ? she attacked boldly.

Isabelle made a vague movement of the shoulders.

- I have no job, she said bitterly, without thinking to conceal his situation.

- You lost yours? insisted the stranger.

- No, I never had.

- You have lived so far without working?

She was surprised, but the orphan explained immediately:

- I come from province; There are only ten days I'm in Paris and I can not find an occupation. Every day and all day, I ran over and asked hundreds of people. It always makes me the same answer: nothing, nothing!

- It is certain that there is a business crisis, this time approved the newcomer. It's difficult to place currently.

- Oh ! Isabelle protested bitterly when I see thousands of workers who have a job in Paris, I think he has quite a few empty seats. Only, I lack experience and I do not know manage.

- It's always embarrassing for a woman alone ... You have references, certificates.

- I have not even had the opportunity to give ... It is true that I could not provide, I have never worked and I have no certificate.

- This complicates your research ... What can you do?

- Oh ! many things I have my diplomas, I know the music, singing, cooking, cleaning and I can lead a backyard model. I studied this last question, she added with pride.

It was so naively asserted that the unknown was a good smile.

- You are very young, she remarked indulgently.

- I have over nineteen years, said the orphan, and many women, at my age, earn their living for several years.

- Yes, recognized the other, age means nothing.

For a moment it looked at the sad face of her little neighbor.

- And if you can not find work? she asked again.

On this assumption, a sob came to die on the Isabella lip.

- I will keep as long as possible, always looking for a job and hopefully not starve. Then, when I'm at wit's end ... well! I do not know ... oh! this is awful! ... The Seine, perhaps!

And this perspective was already appear so imperious in the orphan she could not hold back his tears.

- Calm down ! said the other with kindness; Your situation is not really so desperate!

- Oh ! No, I still have time to wait! But if I can not find ... The end of the line always comes at some point.

- By then, many things can change. You have family, relatives, friends?

- Nobody ! Isabelle was clearly, wiping his eyes.

She added:

- I have to rely only on myself. I will never stay where I come from.

- Yours can help you?

- I will not ask them anything.

- You left them on a whim?

- I left because I was very unhappy and they made me pay too much bread I ate.

Scarcely had she uttered these words she was surprised to have them made.

The confidence she had always promised to shut up and buried in the depths of herself had just come out of his lips without her dreaming of the hold.

Isabelle wondered if depressing life she led in recent days had not lessened his will.

Unless, simply, that it was the friendly voice of her neighbor who inducement to confide.

However, the orphan did not deliver the more painful secret that made isolated on the streets of Paris, at an age when, typically, family smoldering you tenderness.

And she remained head down, a little embarrassed to have so much already told of his past.

But the other remained silent, weighing it in some vague assistance project could save despair newcomer.

The young provincial him was friendly. Itself, for only one year in Paris was quite alone in the big city. First arrival she could not reach out to each other and, for a service, bring forth good fellowship?

And suddenly, she decided.

- Listen, she said. I may have something for you, but you must promise me to stay serious ...

- You have a situation to offer me? cried Isabelle leaving his table and rushing towards the window, without attaching importance to the condition imposed by the unknown.

The other smiled enthusiasm so quickly unleashed the girl.

- Do not rejoice too quickly, there is no evidence that my proposal approves you. On the other hand, I have qualms about stating you. I noticed that you return quietly every night. I saw you eating bravely meager menus, modestly making your toilet, or you kneeling for a fervent prayer. It seemed to me that you were a good girl in every sense of the word, and I would not be the architect of your downfall, facilitating you a job might make you change your conduct.

A beautiful smile of confidence relaxed Isabelle's lips.

- Oh ! Mrs ! she exclaimed warmly, I am certain that you can be reassured you will never regret helping me.

- I want to believe you, although there are many temptations in the environment where I can do you in.

- There are no insurmountable temptations for a well-born soul, protested the orphan fire.

The other was a kindness to look for it.

- Well ! she asked sweetly, come join me in my room and let me go in yours. We will close the window to talk freely; here, everyone can easily listen to us and there is no need to put the whole house to date on our projects.

Isabelle approved immediately its neighbor prudent and, a minute later, she had joined in such a modestly furnished room than his.

- How can I thank you kindly for your interest in me, madam? She said immediately upon arrival.

But the young woman silenced.

- Listen to me first, she replied by offering him a chair. I must tell you, first of all, that I myself am an honest girl and I have a mother and a younger sister to support, in Normandy. I could stay with them and make a living in a work of sewing, but I loved the theater and my greatest desire has always been to become an artist. My mother understood, and against the promise I made it to remain wise and serious, she allowed me to follow my way and do theater. I know that the beginnings are tough and that many women allow themselves to discouragement and do foolish things they later regret. I promised myself to arrive only by my work and my continual efforts to better. I love my job and so far it goes!

- It must be a nice life, says Isabelle thoughtfully; mine too wanted me to become an artist as my ancestors ...

But perceiving again that his thought brought her back to her aunt, she shook her head to dispel the unwelcome reminder.

- It must be difficult to start the theater? She remarked.

- Yes, when we are experiencing person. I am fortunate to be part of a gang, second order, of course! ... anyway, I am entrusted with small roles ... It is a consortium of three popular theaters. Each week, one of the scenes plays a lyrical piece, while the second deals with the comedy, and the third, vaudeville and operetta. The shows alternate successively in these three theaters, so we come back every twenty-one days in the same area, with a new part. It ends up being known regulars. Here are just six months that I am part of the company and already is quoted me as a conscientious artist who will be given more important roles to create as soon as the opportunity arises.

- And you think I would be here? Isabelle asked whose heart beat with joy at the prospect.