Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 435 | Page 6

a crowd; and a valley on the road to
Vendôme was pitched upon. A calèche took us to the place, and set us
down in a delightful meadow, enamelled with flowers, as all meadows
are in poetry. A few great trees, forming almost a grove, shaded a slope
near the banks of a sluggish stream that crept along between an avenue
of poplars. Here the cloth was laid at once for breakfast; and whilst M.
Jerome and the princess strolled away to talk of blighted hopes, Russia,
serfdom, wedlock, and the conflagration of the Kremlin, Penelope
made the necessary preparation; and I, in my character of a fidgety old
gentleman, first advised and then assisted her. I am afraid the young

damsel had designs upon my heart, for she put several questions to me
on the state of vassalage in England; and when I developed succinctly
the principles and advantages of our free constitution, and said some
eloquent things that formed a French edition of 'Britons never shall be
slaves,' she became quite enthusiastic; her cheeks flushed, her eyes
brightened; and with a sort of Thervigne-de-Mericourt gesture, she
cried: 'Vive la République!' This was scarcely the natural product of
what I had said; but so lively a little creature, in her dainty lace-cap and
flying pink ribbons, neat silk caraco, plaid-patterned gown, with
pagoda sleeves, as she called them, and milk-white manchettes--her
bottines from the Rue Vivienne, and her face from Paradise--could
reconcile many a harder heart than mine to greater incongruities. Our
arrangements being made, therefore, I sat down on a camp-stool, whilst
Penelope reclined on the grass; and I endeavoured to explain to her the
great advantages of a moderate constitutional government, with checks,
balances, and so forth. Although she yawned, I am sure it was not from
ennui, but in order to shew me her pretty pearly teeth.
M. Jerome and the princess came streaming back over the
meadow--even affected to scold me for having remained behind. They
were evidently on the best possible terms, and I took great satisfaction
in contemplating their happiness. Either my perspicacity was at fault,
however, or both had some secret cause of uneasiness that pressed upon
their minds as the day advanced. Had they been only betrayed into a
declaration and a plighting of their troth in a hurry? Did they already
repent? Did Madame de Mourairef regret the barbarous splendour of
her native land? Did M. Jerome begin to mourn over the delights of
bachelorship? These were the questions I put to myself without being
able to invent any satisfactory answer. The day passed, however,
pleasantly enough; and the calèche came in due time to take us back to
Blois.
Next morning, M. Jerome entered my room with a graceful bow, to
announce his departure for Paris, whither it was necessary for him to go
to obtain the necessary papers for his marriage, and Madame de
Mourairef, he added, accompanied him. I uttered the necessary
congratulations, and gave my address in Paris, that he might call upon

me as soon as he was settled in the hôtel he proposed to take.
'I take two persons with me,' he said, smiling; 'but one of them leaves
her heart behind, I am afraid.'
This alluded to Penelope; but I was determined not to understand. I
went to say adieu to Madame de Mourairef, who seemed rather excited
and anxious. Penelope almost succeeded in wringing forth a tear; but I
did not think it was decreed that at my age I should really make love to
a Russian serf, however charming. So off they went to the railway
station, leaving me in a very dull, stupid, melancholy mood.
'What a fortunate man M. Jerome is!' said the garçon, as he came into
my room a few minutes afterwards.
'Yes,' I replied; 'Madame de Mourairef seems in every way worthy of
him.'
'I should think so,' quoth he. 'It is not every waiter, however fascinating,
that falls in with a Russian princess.'
'Waiter! M. Jerome!'
'Of course,' replied my informant. 'You seem surprised; but M. Jerome
is really a waiter at the Café ----, on the Boulevard des Italiens; came
down for his health. We were comrades once, and I promised to keep
the secret, for he thought it extremely probable that he might meet a
wealthy English lady here, who might fall in love with him--your
countrywomen are so eccentric. He has found a Russian princess,
which is better. I suppose we must now call him Monseigneur?'
Although, like the rest of my species, disposed to laugh at the
misfortunes of my fellow-creatures, I confess that I pitied Madame de
Mourairef; for I felt persuaded that M. Jerome had passed himself off
as a very distinguished personage. However, there was no remedy, and
I had