Jacqueline, vol 2 | Page 4

to sample the author's ideas before making
an entire meal of them. D.W.]

JACQUELINE
By THERESE BENTZON (MME. BLANC)

BOOK 2.

CHAPTER VII
THE BLUE BAND
Love, like any other human malady, should be treated according to the
age and temperament of the sufferer. Madame de Nailles, who was a
very keen observer, especially where her own interests were concerned,
lent herself with the best possible grace to everything that might amuse
and distract Jacqueline, of whom she had by this time grown afraid.
Not that she now dreaded her as a rival. The attitude of coldness and
reserve that the young girl had adopted in her intercourse with Marien,
her stepmother could see, was no evidence of coquetry. She showed, in
her behavior to the friend of the family, a freedom from embarrassment
which was new to her, and a frigidity which could not possibly have
been assumed so persistently. No! what struck Madame de Nailles was
the suddenness of this transformation. Jacqueline evidently took no
further interest in Marien; she had apparently no longer any affection
for herself--she, who had been once her dear little mamma, whom she
had loved so tenderly, now felt herself to be considered only as a
stepmother. Fraulein Schult, too, received no more confidences. What
did it all mean?
Had Jacqueline, through any means, discovered a secret, which, in her
hands, might be turned into a most dangerous weapon? She had a way
of saying before the guilty pair: "Poor papa!" with an air of pity, as she
kissed him, which made Madame de Nailles's flesh creep, and
sometimes she would amuse herself by making ambiguous remarks
which shot arrows of suspicion into a heart already afraid. "I feel sure,"
thought the Baroness, "that she has found out everything. But, no! it
seems impossible. How can I discover what she knows?"
Jacqueline's revenge consisted in leaving her stepmother in doubt. She
more than suspected, not without cause, that Fraulein Schult was false
to her, and had the wit to baffle all the clever questions of her
'promeneuse'.

"My worship of a man of genius--a great artist? Oh! that has all come
to an end since I have found out that his devotion belongs to an elderly
lady with a fair complexion and light hair. I am only sorry for him."
Jacqueline had great hopes that these cruel words would be reported--as
they were--to her stepmother, and, of course, they did not mitigate the
Baroness's uneasiness. Madame de Nailles revenged herself for this
insult by dismissing the innocent echo of the impertinence--of course,
under some plausible pretext. She felt it necessary also to be very
cautious how she treated the enemy whom she was forced to shelter
under her own roof. Her policy--a policy imposed on her by force of
circumstances--was one of great indulgence and consideration, so that
Jacqueline, soon feeling that she was for the present under no control,
took the bit between her teeth. No other impression can adequately
convey an idea of the sort of fury with which she plunged into pleasure
and excitement, a state of mind which apparently, without any
transition, succeeded her late melancholy. She had done with sentiment,
she thought, forever. She meant to be practical and positive, a little
Parisienne, and "in the swim." There were plenty of examples among
those she knew that she could follow. Berthe, Helene, and Claire
Wermant were excellent leaders in that sort of thing. Those three
daughters of the 'agent de change' were at this time at Treport, in charge
of a governess, who let them do whatever they pleased, subject only to
be scolded by their father, who came down every Saturday to Treport,
on that train that was called the 'train des maris'. They had made friends
with two or three American girls, who were called "fast," and
Jacqueline was soon enrolled in the ranks of that gay company.
The cure that was begun on the wooden horse at Blackfern's was
completed on the sea-shore.
The girls with whom she now associated were nine or ten little imps of
Satan, who, with their hair flying in the wind and their caps over one
ear, made the quiet beach ring with their boy-like gayety. They were
called "the Blue Band," because of a sort of uniform that they adopted.
We speak of them intentionally as masculine, and not feminine,
because what is masculine best suited their appearance and behavior,

for, though all could flirt like coquettes of experience, they were more
like boys than girls, if judged by their age and their costume.
These Blues lived close to one another on that avenue that is edged
with chalets, cottages, and villas, whose lower floors are abundantly
provided with great glass windows, which seem to let the ocean into
their