Jacqueline, vol 3 | Page 8

leave town for the country in July,
begged Jacqueline, who seemed run down and out of spirits, to come
and stay with her, the poor child was very glad to accept the invitation.
Her pupils were leaving her one after another, she could not understand
why, and she was bored to death in the convent, whose strict rules were
drawn tighter on her than before, for the nuns had begun to understand
her better, and to discover the real worldliness of her character. At the
same time, that retreat within these pious walls no longer seemed like

paradise to Jacqueline; her transition from the deepest crape to the
softer tints of half mourning, seemed to make her less of an angel in
their eyes. They said to each other that Mademoiselle de Nailles was
fanciful, and fancies are the very last things wanted in a convent, for
fancies can brave bolts, and make their escape beyond stone walls,
whatever means may be taken to clip their wings.
"She does not seem like the same person," cried the good sisters, who
had been greatly edified at first by her behavior, and who were almost
ready now to be shocked at her.
The course of things was coming back rapidly into its natural channel;
in obedience to the law which makes a tree, apparently dead, put forth
shoots in springtime. And that inevitable re-budding and reblossoming
was beautiful to see in this young human plant. M. de Talbrun,
Jacqueline's host, could not fail to perceive it. At first he had been
annoyed with Giselle for giving the invitation, having a habit of finding
fault with everything he had not ordered or suggested, by virtue of his
marital authority, and also because he hated above all things, as he said,
to have people in his house who were "wobegones." But in a week he
was quite reconciled to the idea of keeping Mademoiselle de Nailles all
the summer at the Chateau de Fresne. Never had Giselle known him to
take so much trouble to be amiable, and indeed Jacqueline saw him
much more to advantage at home than in Paris, where, as she had often
said, he diffused too strong an odor of the stables. At Fresne, it was
more easy to forgive him for talking always of his stud and of his
kennel, and then he was so obliging! Every day he proposed some new
jaunt, an excursion to see some view, to visit all the ruined chateaux or
abbeys in the neighborhood. And, with surprising delicacy, M. de
Talbrun refrained from inviting too many of his country neighbors,
who might perhaps have scared Jacqueline and arrested her gradual
return to gayety. They might also have interrupted his tete-a-tete with
his wife's guest, for they had many such conversations. Giselle was
absorbed in the duty of teaching her son his a, b, c. Besides, being very
timid, she had never ridden on horseback, and, naturally, riding was
delightful to her cousin. Jacqueline was never tired of it; while she paid
as little attention to the absurd remarks Oscar made to her between their

gallops as a girl does at a ball to the idle words of her partner. She
supposed it was his custom to talk in that manner--a sort of rough
gallantry--but with the best intentions. Jacqueline was disposed to look
upon her life at Fresne as a feast after a long famine. Everything was to
her taste, the whole appearance of this lordly chateau of the time of
Louis XIII, the splendid trees in the home park, the gardens laid out 'a
la Francais', decorated with art and kept up carefully. Everything,
indeed, that pertained to that high life which to Giselle had so little
importance, was to her delightful. Giselle's taste was so simple that it
was a constant subject of reproach from her husband. To be sure, it was
with him a general rule to find fault with her about everything. He did
not spare her his reproaches on a multitude of subjects; all day long he
was worrying her about small trifles with which he should have had
nothing to do. It is a mistake to suppose that a man can not be brutal
and fussy at the same time. M. de Talbrun was proof to the contrary.
"You are too patient," said Jacqueline often to Giselle. "You ought to
answer him back--to defend yourself. I am sure if you did so you would
have him, by-and-bye, at your beck and call."
"Perhaps so. I dare say you could have managed better than I do,"
replied Giselle, with a sad smile, but without a spark of jealousy. "Oh,
you are in high favor. He gave up this week the races at Deauville, the
great race week from which he