"It was all obstinate folly," replied Valmont; "she declared herself happy without it; and even went so far as to quote Scripture against the fete of the Rose."

"What could she say?" demanded the quiet Dorsain, all astonishment.

"She said what is very true!" exclaimed Mimi; "she told us it would make us unhappy and dissatisfied with each other, and the words she used from Scripture, uncle Dorsain, were these: 'Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled.'"

"And she called the fete of the Rosiere a root of bitterness!" exclaimed Lisette. "Did you ever hear such nonsense, uncle?"

"I do not think it nonsense," said Mimi; "I think Victorine was very right."

"You are too young to judge Mimi;" replied Lisette, "when you are as old as Monsieur le Prieur, you will probably agree with a wise man in preference to a young girl of seventeen."

Mimi, in warmth, took up Victorine's cause; and it was with some difficulty their father silenced them; but the quiet D'Elsac was much struck with what had pa.s.sed, and his eyes were gradually opening to the fact that Victorine was indeed right, and that the root of bitterness was springing up in the family of his sister.

When once the idea was raised, he became much alarmed, considering the purport of his visit. "Victorine, there is no doubt, is the most sensible of her family," he thought, "but I could not think of having a heretic in my house: then, Caliste looks so fiery, and Lisette is so selfish, and Mimi is so pa.s.sionate, that I dare not offer a home to any of them. Well, I have not, at present, mentioned the purport of my journey hither; and, if things continue as I fear they will, I shall certainly travel back alone."

On the following morning Lisette, dressed in her holiday attire, went to the chateau to pay her compliments to Madame la Baronne de Salency. The young girl really looked uncommonly beautiful, and her mother, in pride, having embraced her, watched her up the village street, expressing aloud to her brother her satisfaction in being parent to such a child.

Dorsain felt that his sister's rose had many a thorn; he did not say so, however, though the words trembled on his lips, and the thought would not be banished from his mind; and, for the first time in his life, he rejoiced that he was childless. But D'Elsac was in such a deep darkness then, that, beholding faults in his nearest and dearest connexions, made him look upon men with disgust; for he saw not, nor knew of that blood of the Lamb, which, "though men's sins be as scarlet, yet shall it wash them white as snow."

When Lisette returned she had much, very much, to say on the condescending kindness of Madame, neither did she hesitate to add a little to that lady's words.

"Monsieur le Baron will conduct me himself from our cottage," she said; "for he has promised not to go to Paris till the ninth of June, on purpose to be present at the fete of the Rose, which is to be held at his chateau, and Madame asked me whom I had chosen for my companions for the day, and she was pleased to express a wish that Victorine should be amongst the number."

"But Victorine never goes to ma.s.s!" exclaimed Mimi, "and you know the Rosiere always attends vespers."

"Well, that wont signify," replied Lisette, tossing her head, "for once in a way Victorine may oblige a sister."

"Anything else I would willingly do, dear Lisette," replied Victorine, "but my parents having permitted me to stay away from ma.s.s, I cannot accompany you."

"But Madame has commanded your attendance!" exclaimed Lisette.

"She has no power to command me to do anything I think wrong," replied Victorine, "and in this point I must not obey her; with my mother's permission I will go up to the chateau, and excuse myself for opposing her wishes."

"How unkind of you, Victorine!" said Lisette, bursting into a pa.s.sion of tears, "for I told Madame you would be sure to accompany me, and she said it would improve the procession if my two sisters followed me and the Baron."

Victorine appeared vexed, and, taking Lisette's hand, she said, "would you wish me to do what I think wrong to give you an hour's amus.e.m.e.nt? I cannot act against my conscience, dear sister. I cannot accompany you to chapel."

Lisette flung her hand from her as she replied, "Do as you like, Victorine, but it is hard that the very reason which makes me elected Rosiere should cause such jealousy in my two elder sisters. I might have hoped that Caliste and Victorine would rejoice in the honour done me."

Victorine appeared more and more grieved by this answer, but she said no more; and, having obtained her mother's consent, she went to the chateau to excuse herself to Madame la Baronne.

That lady received her kindly, and even approved her conduct, though she did not agree in her opinions. She regretted her remaining an alien from the Romish church, and promised her, if she would renounce her heresy, she should be the elected Rosiere of the following year. But this offer did not tempt Victorine; she could not behold the unhappy state of her sisters without dreading to become their rival.

Madame then expressed her hope that Victorine would accompany her sister to the fete at the chateau; and, with a complimentary message to her mother, she dismissed the young girl.

And now came the important business of preparing dresses for the fete.

The Rosiere and her twelve female friends were all to be attired in white, and all, with the exception of the Rosiere, were to wear blue ribbon scarfs placed over one shoulder and tied under the other. They were to have no coverings on their heads, for the fete was in the warm month of June, but the Rosiere was to wear a crown of roses, made by her twelve friends.

Now D'Elsac was an hourly witness of the patience of Victorine. She it was who made her sister's dresses, for Lisette was in and out of the cottage every instant to talk of the fete, whilst Caliste felt too bitterly to set herself to work for an affair which she could not bear to think about. Mimi was too young, and the mother too old to employ themselves, and thus it was left to Victorine, who had never expected aught of pleasure in the affair.

One morning Dorsain entered the cottage, and found Victorine working as usual, whilst Caliste was seated near her, her employment cast from her, and her whole appearance expressing the utmost dejection. At sight of her uncle she roused herself, and for a short time her excessive mirth, and even the great wit with which she spoke, astonished him. The quiet man was somewhat startled by her manner, and he looked at her earnestly, half alarmed by her wild and extravagant merriment. He soon remarked that the smile seemed only to be on her lip, for every now and then her countenance changed, and expressed the deep dejection he had noticed on his entrance. He saw too that Victorine laughed not with her, and did all that was in her power to check her exuberant gaiety. The steady look that Dorsain gave her at once put to flight all a.s.sumed merriment; she suddenly ceased speaking, sighed deeply, then throwing her working materials farther from her, with a hasty movement, she left the apartment.

Victorine's employment, too, fell from her hand; with the tear in her eyes she looked after her sister, then, echoing her sigh, she set herself with a sad heart to finish the work which must be done, and which necessarily detained her from comforting Caliste.

"Your sister, Victorine, seems far from well," said Dorsain; "know you what ails her?"

"Dear uncle," she replied, "Caliste will not now acknowledge even to me what vexes her; but it is easy to see she feels most bitterly the losing the Rosiere's crown."

D'Elsac for some minutes seemed lost in thought. "Poor girl!" he murmured, "poor girl! I should not have thought it would have so disappointed her."

"You forget, then, how she is situated," replied Victorine. "From infancy has Caliste been taught to aspire to the rose, every year has she ardently expected it; now this time her name is on the list, and her own sister, younger by three years, steps forward and takes it from her. Our parents, too, rejoice with the child that rejoices; they love one daughter equally with the other; they are content that the Rosiere is in their family, and they, perhaps, have not given it a thought that the greater the triumph is to Lisette, the greater is the defeat to poor Caliste. Then, alas! my sister has none to look to for comfort, and she is overwhelmed with despair; she has been tried for worldly virtue and goodness, and she has been rejected; and she is now writhing under the shame, and unable and unwilling to turn to Him who says, 'Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls.'"

D'Elsac had already been led to see that Victorine was right in refusing to be a rival to her sister; he was therefore inclined to listen to what she said, though he tried to make himself believe that, as she was a heretic, he should not be led by her in anything; however, he went on conversing with her about Caliste, and even about Lisette. Victorine could not deny that Lisette in her selfish triumph spared no opportunity of exalting herself at the expense of Caliste, neither could she excuse this sister from the fault that Dorsain charged her, with cruelly rejoicing in every pang of jealousy that the poor girl suffered. Though Victorine could not excuse her conduct, yet she laid it to its right source, the total ignorance of Lisette on religious subjects, who considered an outward appearance of virtue sufficient in the eyes of a just G.o.d, and that the guidance of the thoughts and evil pa.s.sions of the heart were only so far necessary as to obtain for herself the perishable Rosiere's crown.

D'Elsac inquired if after the ceremony the Rosiere was peculiarly noticed amongst the Salenciens.

"Monsieur de Montforlaine has given an annual rent of one hundred and twenty livres to the Rosiere," replied Victorine, "and this gives the office some consequence. Those too who have been Rosieres are always treated with respect in Salency, even after their reign is over."

"Then Caliste will have to endure Lisette's superiority very long," said Dorsain.

"Till the time she is herself Rosiere," she replied; "at least whilst she remains in Salency."

Here a pause ensued, during which D'Elsac saw the tears roll fast down the cheeks of Victorine, so as almost to prevent her continuing her employment. He was a kind-hearted man, and grieved to see her tears.

"Victorine," he said, lowering his voice, "you have no idea what business it was that brought me to Salency; your aunt D'Elsac is not so strong as she was some years back; she wants an a.s.sistant, and she would prefer a niece to a stranger."

"Then you will take Caliste!" she exclaimed; "you will take Caliste from Salency, will you not, uncle Dorsain?"

The good man looked annoyed as he replied, "My dear Victorine I love quiet; how could my wife and myself endure the haughty and proud airs of Caliste? No, Victorine, it was not Caliste I desired to adopt as a daughter."

Victorine could not but understand the kind old gentleman's words; she kissed his hand in token of her grat.i.tude, and then with many thanks she tried with caution to make him comprehend her situation. "If it but depended upon myself," she said, "oh, how happy would it make me to live so near Swisserland; so near my oldest and dearest friends; so near my first, my happiest home; so near my beloved aunt Pauline's grave; but no, uncle Dorsain; no, I must not think of it; I have a duty to perform here.

I ought to comfort Caliste, and I only can, because she feels that the Rosiere is a younger sister to me, as well as to herself."

D'Elsac could not be offended by such a refusal. "Victorine," he said, "pray tell me upon what motive do you act?"

She smiled, though the tear still trembled on her eyelid, as she replied playfully, "By the same motive, uncle Dorsain, which you acknowledged just now. I too love peace. I love it dearly, but pardon me if I say that the peace after which I pursue is not of so transient a nature as yours. You seek but the peace of good nature and cheerful countenances.

My peace is the peace of the heart; the peace that a young child feels upon its mother's knee. My Heavenly Father's arms I know are around me; they will, I feel a.s.sured, never be withdrawn; and whilst I do what He points out as right to be done, the peace and confidence of the loved child no earthly power can take from my mind. Dear uncle, Dorsain, I must not then accept your kind offer, for I must now give the comfort of sympathy to my sorrowing Caliste; and if I left her now, peace would be banished from my mind, for I should be acting against my conscience, and that ever brings punishment in its rear."

"When I hear you speak, my dear niece," said Dorsain, "my conscience gives me many a pang for my unbrotherly conduct to that dear sister Pauline who performed the tender part of mother to you Victorine. Though a few miles, comparatively a few miles, separated us when I heard that my sister was a heretic, I at once determined to a.s.sociate with her no more, and now that I have the will, the power is no longer mine to visit her."

"Your estrangement was a great grief to my dear aunt," replied Victorine, "and had not my uncle's very bad health disabled him, he or my aunt would have forced upon you a visit; but he was too ill to leave home, and she had no one to take her place with him or with me, and before I was old enough to a.s.sist her he was no more, and circ.u.mstances were changed with us. She did, however, to the last, often talk of you, hoping you would meet, if not in this world, in the next."

More was said upon this subject, and it was not till some time afterwards that the conversation was renewed, when D'Elsac said, "Then I must take Lisette, I suppose, with me to Gren.o.ble, for when you flatter her she is good tempered, and I own I am afraid of Caliste."

"Lisette will not, I think, leave Salency whilst she is Rosiere," replied her sister. "She could not make up her mind, I fear, to give up her crown, th.o.r.n.y as it appears to others."

"I will ask her," replied D'Elsac, "but I acknowledge to you, Victorine, I rather hope a refusal. If you will not return with me, I prefer the hired labour of a stranger."

Dorsain then sought Lisette to learn her mind. He found her deep in consultation about the only subject that now occupied her; and, as Victorine expected, she refused at once the invitation, scarcely deigning to clothe her answer in courteous terms.