My Double Life | Page 6

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to listen to something I did not understand at all, but which
nevertheless left me spell-bound. Then, too, there was quite a legend
attached to this pretty girl. She had flung herself almost under the
horses' feet as the Emperor was driving along, in order to attract his
attention and obtain the pardon of her brother, who had conspired
against his sovereign.
Mlle. Stella Colas had a sister at Madame Fressard's, and this sister,
Clothilde, is now the wife of M. Pierre Merlou, Under Secretary of
State in the Treasury Department. Stella was slight and fair, with blue
eyes that were rather hard but expressive. She had a deep voice, and
when this pale, fragile girl began to recite Athalie's Dream, it thrilled
me through and through. How many times, seated on my child's bed,
did I practise saying in a low voice, "Tremble, fille digne de moi"--I
used to twist my head on my shoulders, swell out my cheeks, and
commence:
"Tremble--trem-ble--trem-em-ble----"

But it always ended badly, and I would begin again very quietly, in a
stifled voice, and then unconsciously speak louder; and my companions,
roused by the noise, were amused at my attempts, and roared with
laughter. I would then rush about to the right and left, giving them
kicks and blows, which they returned with interest.
Madame Fressard's adopted daughter, Mlle. Caroline (whom I chanced
to meet a long time after, married to the celebrated artist, Yvon), would
then appear on the scene. Angry and implacable, she would give us all
kinds of punishments for the following day. As for me, I used to get
locked up for three days: that was followed by my being detained on
the first day we were allowed out. And in addition I would receive five
strokes with a ruler on my fingers. Ah! those ruler strokes of Mlle.
Caroline's! I reproached her about them when I met her again
twenty-five years later. She used to make us put all our fingers round
the thumb and hold our hands straight out to her, and then bang came
her wide ebony ruler. She used to give us a cruelly hard, sharp blow
which made the tears spurt to our eyes. I took a dislike to Mlle.
Caroline. She was beautiful, but with the kind of beauty I did not care
for. She had a very white complexion, and very black hair, which she
wore in waved bandeaux. When I saw her a long time afterwards, one
of my relatives brought her to my house and said, "I am sure you will
not recognise this lady, and yet you know her very well." I was leaning
against the large mantelpiece in the hall, and I saw this tall woman, still
beautiful, but rather provincial-looking, coming through the first
drawing-room. As she descended the three steps into the hall the light
fell on her protruding forehead, framed on each side with the hard,
waved bandeaux.
"Mademoiselle Caroline!" I exclaimed, and with a furtive, childish
movement I hid my two hands behind my back. I never saw her again,
for the grudge I had owed her from my childhood must have been
apparent under my politeness as hostess.
As I said before, I was not unhappy at Madame Fressard's, and it
seemed quite natural to me that I should stay there until I was quite a
grown-up girl. My uncle, Félix Faure, who has entered the Carthusian

monastery, had stipulated that his wife, my mother's sister, should often
take me out. He had a very fine country place at, Neuilly, with a stream
running through the grounds, and I used to fish there for hours, together
with my two cousins, a boy and girl.
These two years of my life passed peacefully, without any other events
than my terrible fits of temper, which upset the whole pension and
always left me in the infirmary for two or three days. These outbursts
of temper were like attacks of madness.
One day Aunt Rosine arrived suddenly to take me away altogether. My
father had written giving orders as to where I was to be placed, and
these orders were imperative. My mother was travelling, so she had
sent word to my aunt, who had hurried off at once, between two dances,
to carry out the instructions she had received.
The idea that I was to be ordered about, without any regard to my own
wishes or inclinations, put me into an indescribable rage. I rolled about
on the ground, uttering the most heartrending cries. I yelled out all
kinds of reproaches, blaming mamma, my aunts, and Madame Fressard
for not finding some way to keep me with her. The struggle lasted two
hours, and while I was being dressed I escaped twice into the garden
and attempted