Charlottes Inheritance | Page 5

himself daily at a greasy and savoury banquet, and
who slept away the greater part of his existence; and with a mother who
divided her affections between a disagreeable poodle and a still more
disagreeable priest--a priest who took upon himself to lecture the
demoiselle Frehlter on the smallest provocation.
The château of the Frehlters was a very grand abode as compared to the
tumble-down house of Beaubocage; but it was cold and stony to a
depressing degree, and the furniture must have been shabby in the days
of the Fronde. Faithful old servants kept the mansion in a state of
spotless purity, and ruled the Baron and his wife with a rod of iron.
Mademoiselle execrated these devoted retainers, and would have
welcomed the sauciest of modern domestics who would have released
her from the bondage of these servants of the old school.
Mademoiselle had been at home a year--a year of discontent and
ill-humour. She had quarrelled with her father, because he would not
take her to Paris; with her mother, because she would not give her more
new gowns and bonnets and feathers and fur-belows; with the priest,
the poodle, with the autocracy below-stairs, with everybody and
everything. So at last the Baron decided that mademoiselle should
marry, whereby he might be rid of her, and of her complaints, vagaries,
ill-tempers, and general dissatisfaction.
Having once made up his mind as to the wisdom of a matrimonial
arrangement, Baron Frehlter was not slow to fix upon a bridegroom. He
was a very rich man, and Madelon was his only child, and he was
furthermore a very lazy man; so, instead of looking far afield for a

wealthy or distinguished suitor for his daughter, he was inclined to take
the first that came to hand. It is possible that the Baron, who was of a
somewhat cynical turn of mind, may have cherished no very exalted
idea of his daughter's attractions, either personal or mental. However
this might be, it is certain that when the demoiselle had ill-treated the
poodle, and insulted the priest, and quarrelled with the cook--that
high-priestess of the kitchen who alone, in all Normandy, could
concoct those messes which the Baron loved--the master of Côtenoir
decided on marrying his heiress out of hand.
He communicated this design to his old crony, François Lenoble, one
day when the Beaubocage family dined at Château Côtenoir.
"I think of marrying my daughter," he said to his friend, when the
ladies were safely out of hearing at the other end of the long dreary
saloon. "Now thy son Gustave is a fine fellow--brave, handsome, and
of a good race. It is true he is not as rich as Madelon will be by-and-by;
but I am no huckster, to sell my daughter to the best bidder" ("and I
doubt if there would be many bidders for her, if I were so inclined,"
thought the Baron, in parenthesis); "and if thy son should take a fancy
to her, and she to him, it would please me well enough, friend
François."
Friend François pricked up his ears, and in his old eyes flickered a
feeble light. Côtenoir and Beaubocage united in the person of his son
Gustave! Lenoble of Beaubocage and Côtenoir--Lenoble of Côtenoir
and Beaubocage! So splendid a vision had never shone before his eyes
in all the dreams that he had dreamed about the only son of whom he
was so proud. He could not have shaped to himself so bold a project as
the union of those two estates. And here was the Baron offering it to
him, with his snuff-box, en passant.
"It would be a great marriage," he said, "a very great marriage. For
Gustave I can answer without hesitation. He could not but be charmed
by such a union--so amiable a bride would enchant him."
He looked down the room to the spot where Madelon and Cydalise
were standing, side by side, admiring Madame Frehlter's poodle.

Madelon could afford to be civil to the poodle before company. The
contrast between the two girls was sufficiently striking. Cydalise was
fair and bright-looking--Mademoiselle Frehlter was square and
ungainly of figure, swarthy of complexion, dark of brow.
"He could not but be charmed," repeated the old man, with feeble
gallantry.
He was thinking of the joining together of Beaubocage and Côtenoir;
and it seemed a very small thing to him that such a union of estates
would involve the joining of a man and woman, who were to hold to
each other and love each other until death should part them.
"It shall be no marriage of convenience," said the Baron, in a generous
spirit; "my daughter is somewhat ill-tem--that is to say, my daughter
finds her life somewhat dull with her old father and mother, and I think
she