Jacquetta. Baring-Gould Sabine

I do think of her.’

      ‘Well, think, but with no ulterior views. Are you aware that her father is a grocer and wears a white apron—a common English grocer? You are a baron of ancient family; you are perfectly aware that your mother would never consent to such an union.’

      ‘We are poor as rats.’

      ‘And rats like the good stores in a grocer’s shop. Bah! it is impossible. In France you cannot marry without the consent of your parents. Think of your mother—of proposing to her to take the niece of la Pain-au-lait, the maid to Madame de Hoelgoet. She would never, never consent.’

      ‘Why do you talk of marriage? May I not flutter about the flower?’

      ‘A bee goes to the flower for the golden honey and carries it off, but leaves the flower. You cannot get the honey without the flower.’

      ‘I see what it is,’ said the baron, losing his temper slightly. He was too well-bred and too easy-going a man to be greatly put out, and show it. ‘You want to carry off Mademoiselle yourself, and kill the beautiful blonde with chagrin.’

      ‘I amuse myself,’ answered Asheton, tapping his cigar against the ashpan on the table, and then throwing up his head again, and inhaling a long whiff of smoke.

      ‘You must not trifle with this girl’s affections as you have with those of the blonde. I will not allow it.’

      ‘Halloo! Knight Bayard, preux chevalier! I am to leave the coast clear to you. Well, I admit I have no chance against a baron with a coronet of six pearls. Especially when that vulgar old butter-tub thinks you will make her daughter My-Lady.’

      ‘There you are wrong, Jacques, it is I who have no chance. Who in these liberal days cares for empty honours? Who asks to see your pedigree? And who that reads your pedigree believes in it? No, my friend, it is you who have every chance, not I. You are her countryman, and you have good expectations from your father. Your nation is practical, it values solid advantages, not soap-bubble titles.’

      ‘You, Alphonse, will render that gross mother and the girl many favours, will place them under a thousand obligations, if you help them with the settlement of the affairs of their aunt, and establish their right to Champclair.’

      ‘You do not know that the Pain-au-lait is dead. If she survive, I shall be debarred the house. I cannot visit there whilst the maid-companion of Madame de Hoelgoet is in possession. My mother would not endure it. On the other hand, you will pass your days there dancing round the ladies.’

      ‘The lady—I shall decline to dance round the butter-tub. Enough! Let the event decide.’

      ‘In the meantime, what about the carriage and the journey in it? Who is to sit on the box, and which is to enjoy supreme felicity, basking in the sunshine of the eyes of mademoiselle?’

      ‘Neither shall go on the box. We will both sit inside with our backs to the horses.’

      ‘Yes—that is very well—but it will embitter the journey all the more, if one sits opposite Madame whilst the other is opposite that Angel.’

      ‘We will change places at each change of horses. One will engage the old woman and leave the other free to prosecute his suit with the young lady. We will act chivalrously by each other in this matter.’

      ‘It shall be so. Let us make a further agreement, which is to present the Angel with flowers and fruit?’

      ‘To-morrow you shall offer flowers to your goddess, and I will present cherries. The following day our roles will be reversed. Will that suffice you, Alphonse?’

      ‘Admirably. It is three days’ journey to Nantes, and I shall have two days in which to offer my floral oblations, to your one.’

      ‘But I shall have two for cherries.’

      ‘Do you think so basely of Mademoiselle Jacquetta as to suppose she will appreciate comestibles above flowers?’

      ‘Consider,’ said Asheton, ‘she can only accept a limited number of roses and lilies, and almost an unlimited number of cherries.’

      ‘Perish the thought,’ said the baron, and shuddered. ‘You judge her by her mother.’

      ‘My dear Jacket,’ said Mrs. Fairbrother to her daughter that same evening, ‘it is clear to me as starch that you have made a couple of conquests, and I’m not a bit surprised at it, for there never was a dearer girl than you.’

      ‘Mamma!’ laughed Miss Fairbrother, ‘It is you who are the attraction; you talk so pleasantly and amusingly, whereas I am dull.’

      ‘Nonsense, my darling, you say that because you think it will please me; I declare you have been infected by Lord Monkeytower with the itch of blarney. No, young men do not care for old women, talk they ever so sweetly. Which of the two do you like best?’

      ‘Really, mamma,’ said Jacquetta, laughing and colouring to the roots of her hair, ‘this is nonsense, and it is the first time I’ve heard nonsense from your dear old mouth. I care for neither of them particularly, they are both pleasant companions on a journey, and may be useful to us. They are very kind and considerate.’

      ‘Well, my pet, we shall see plenty of them, we shall be three days getting to Chanticleer ’

      ‘Mamma, I wish we were going in the diligence, we ought to travel night and day to Aunt Betsy.’

      ‘My dear—not after having seen that fusty, dirty, blue cloth lining to the coach. You may be more charitable than me. I don’t set up to be liberal. I am not going to gorge French fleas till they die of apoplexy. The carriage is ordered, and the horses and the driver. Three days, my dear—and two young men—umph, I say.’

      ‘Oh, mamma!’

      ‘It is all very well saying “Oh, mamma!” but I know the world, and you don’t.’

      If Mrs. Fairbrother had been simply an ignorant, foolish, and vulgar woman, her daughter would not have turned out such a sweet and refined girl, notwithstanding the advantages given her, but Mrs. Fairbrother was a woman with a vastly tender heart, high principle, and, though she talked like a fool, she acted sensibly. Her vulgarity was superficial—in her speech, not in her mind. There was no affectation in the woman, she was perfectly true. She had her pride—but it was a harmless pride—it was centred in her daughter. She, herself, made no pretence to be other than she was, and hated display, consequently she was not really vulgar. Her great blemish lay in this, that her tongue rattled quicker than her mind acted, and she said a great deal which had not been sifted by her judgment. Her daughter saw and valued her mother’s excellent qualities, and overlooked, or was blind to her weaknesses.

      The journey to Nantes was a pleasant one; the weather was favourable, the carriage was open all the time, the gentlemen were most agreeable, and the ladies were interested, astonished, and amused by the novelty of the sights that met their eyes. The two young men did what they could to entertain them. At Hédé the baron insisted on taking them into a peasant’s cottage to see the making of buckwheat flat cakes; and then Asheton drew them into the garden of the inn to see angelica growing, from which the delicious crystallised transparent green sweetmeat is made.

      The baron ran about after pinks and harebells, which attracted the admiration of Jacquetta, she had never seen wild pinks before. He composed bouquets for her of chickory and wild roses and snapdragon. Garden flowers were not to be had. But Asheton’s cherries proved a failure; the roadside flowers were a little dusty, but the cherries purchased by Asheton were old and had maggots in them, so that Jacquetta was obliged to decline them after a first attempt.

      At one village, whilst the horses were being changed, the ladies visited the churchyard. Jacquetta found her mother standing by a cross with tears in her eyes.

      ‘Oh, Jacket! What a pretty idea. Do you see? This is a child’s grave, and there is a glass-faced case under the cross containing the child’s toys. I’ll have something of the sort made for Aunt Betsy.’

      ‘But—mamma—she——’