La Mere Bauche | Page 6

the
last two years had been absent from Vernet--for reasons which will
shortly be made to appear. He had been sent to Paris to see something
of the world, and learn to talk French instead of the patois of his valley;
and having left Paris had come down south into Languedoc, and
remained there picking up some agricultural lore which it was thought
might prove useful in the valley farms of Vernet. He was now expected
home again very speedily, much to his mother's delight.
That she was kind and gracious to her favourite child does not perhaps
give much proof of her benevolence; but she had also been kind and
gracious to the orphan child of a neighbour; nay, to the orphan child of
a rival innkeeper. At Vernet there had been more than one water
establishment, but the proprietor of the second had died some few years
after Madame Bauche had settled herself at the place. His house had
not thrived, and his only child, a little girl, was left altogether without
provision.
This little girl, Marie Clavert, La Mere Bauche had taken into her own
house immediately after the father's death, although she had most
cordially hated that father. Marie was then an infant, and Madame
Bauche had accepted the charge without much thought, perhaps, as to
what might be the child's ultimate destiny. But since then she had
thoroughly done the duty of a mother by the little girl, who had become
the pet of the whole establishment, the favourite plaything of Adolphe

Bauche, and at last of course his early sweetheart.
And then and therefore there had come troubles at Vernet. Of course all
the world of the valley had seen what was taking place and what was
likely to take place, long before Madame Bauche knew anything about
it. But at last it broke upon her senses that her son, Adolphe Bauche,
the heir to all her virtues and all her riches, the first young man in that
or any neighbouring valley, was absolutely contemplating the idea of
marrying that poor little orphan, Marie Clavert!
That any one should ever fall in love with Marie Clavert had never
occurred to Madame Bauche. She had always regarded the child as a
child, as the object of her charity, and as a little thing to be looked on as
poor Marie by all the world. She, looking through her green spectacles,
had never seen that Marie Clavert was a beautiful creature, full of
ripening charms, such as young men love to look on. Marie was of
infinite daily use to Madame Bauche in a hundred little things about the
house, and the old lady thoroughly recognised and appreciated her
ability. But for this very reason she had never taught herself to regard
Marie otherwise than as a useful drudge. She was very fond of her
protegee--so much so that she would listen to her in affairs about the
house when she would listen to no one else;--but Marie's prettiness and
grace and sweetness as a girl had all been thrown away upon Maman
Bauche, as Marie used to call her.
But unluckily it had not been thrown away upon Adolphe. He had
appreciated, as it was natural that he should do, all that had been so
utterly indifferent to his mother; and consequently had fallen in love.
Consequently also he had told his love; and consequently also Marie
had returned his love.
Adolphe had been hitherto contradicted but in few things, and thought
that all difficulty would be prevented by his informing his mother that
he wished to marry Marie Clavert. But Marie, with a woman's instinct,
had known better. She had trembled and almost crouched with fear
when she confessed her love; and had absolutely hid herself from sight
when Adolphe went forth, prepared to ask his mother's consent to his
marriage.
The indignation and passionate wrath of Madame Bauche were past
and gone two years before the date of this story, and I need not
therefore much enlarge upon that subject. She was at first abusive and

bitter, which was bad for Marie; and afterwards bitter and silent, which
was worse. It was of course determined that poor Marie should be sent
away to some asylum for orphans or penniless paupers-- in short
anywhere out of the way. What mattered her outlook into the world, her
happiness, or indeed her very existence? The outlook and happiness of
Adolphe Bauche,--was not that to be considered as everything at
Vernet?
But this terrible sharp aspect of affairs did not last very long. In the first
place La Mere Bauche had under those green spectacles a heart that in
truth was tender and affectionate, and after the first two days of anger
she admitted that something must be done