Jacques Bonneval | Page 6

I were admiring some fruit
that exactly imitated nature, little Jules Lefevre stretched out his hand
to touch a little waxen boy with a lamb, saying, "Pretty, pretty!"
"Dear child, you shall have it!" cried a honeyed voice behind; and a
lady nicely dressed put the image into his hand, and stooped down to
kiss him. When Marie Lefevre turned round, and saw what her little
boy held, she looked displeased, and made him lay it on the stall again,
for it was one of those papistical images which we hold in detestation.
At night, when all had dispersed but our own immediate party, there
was a pause, and I saw that the elders had something on their minds
that they were about to unfold. I felt a strange emotion that presaged
what was coming, for not a hint had been dropped.

"Son," said my father--and I looked towards him with awe--"you are
now on the confines of manhood, and it behooves us to consider your
future. At your time of life I was betrothed to your mother, and a share
was promised me of my father's business. What are your own views
respecting your course in life?"
All the elder people fixed their eyes on me with gravity, and Madeleine
afterwards told me her heart stopped beating; while Gabrielle struggled
with a disposition to laugh.
"My views are," returned I, boldly, "to follow my honored father, step
by step, and, his concurrence obtained, to get betrothed as fast as I
can."
"Well said, my boy," said my father, heartily, while every face wore a
broad smile but one, which was mantling with blushes.
"Provided," continued I, "that I may choose the young lady."
"Let us know where your choice will fall," said my father, trying to
keep the corners of his mouth in order, while M. Bourdinave scarcely
suppressed a chuckle.
I stepped across the room, and took Madeleine's hand. "Here is my
choice," said I, "if she will have me. We have known each other from
childhood."
Madeleine instantly snatched her hand away, and covered her face.
However, the next moment her father joined our hands, and gave us his
blessing; and then we were bewildered with congratulations and good
auguries; and Master Brignolles gave us a world of good advice, and
offered a prayer; and my father gave me a ring of betrothal to put on
her finger, and thus we became plighted to one another.
The rest of our stay at Beaucaire passed like a dream, and its brightness
yet remained while we pursued our homeward journey. Madeleine sat
close behind me this time, and on her knee was little Jules Lefevre,
whom we had taken in charge of because his father's wagon was
over-full. He had something clasped tight in his hand, which he
unclosed for a moment at Madeleine's request, and gave her a glimpse
of a little "Agnus Dei," which he said had been given him by "the
pretty lady." How or when she had done so, we never made out.
Madeleine tried to get it from him; but he resisted with all his might,
saying it was "his own."
"It must be confessed," said Gabrielle, "that the Catholic churches have

much more in them to attract the eye than our plain temples."
"Who denies it?" said I. "Their appeals are to the outward senses,
which never influence the heart."
"I think my heart would be very much influenced by them," said
Gabrielle, "if I had not been brought up to think them wrong."
"I cannot bear to hear you talk in that way, sister," said Madeleine.
"Pray, do not seem indifferent to the blessings of a purer faith."
Gabrielle pouted, and said, "Indifferent? no; but perhaps if you and I
had been brought up Catholics, we might have been as positive we held
the purer faith as we are now that we are of the Reformed."
"A very good thing, then, that you were not so brought up," said I, "for
then I should not have been betrothed to Madeleine;" and to prevent her
pursuing so unpleasant a subject, I lifted up my voice and sang. Little
Jules presently dropped asleep in Madeleine's arms, and his little fat
fingers unclosing, the dangerous bauble dropped from them, and, by a
dexterous touch of my whip, I flicked it into the road. By-and-by,
awaking, he cried for it, and beat Madeleine with his tiny fists; nor was
pacified till his attention was diverted by an almost interminable file of
mules, with their five or six olive-faced muleteers in brown jackets and
red sashes.


CHAPTER III
.
LES ARÈNES.
When we got back, we found my uncle Chambrun, my mother's only
brother, standing at the door. He was the minister of a small town near