The Man With The Broken Ear | Page 4

was very much in love with his betrothed, rushed to her
blindly, uncertain whether he would kiss her right cheek or her left, but
determined not to put off too long a pleasure which he had been
promising himself ever since the spring of 1856. Clementine did not
dream of defending herself, but was fully prepared to apply her pretty
rosy lips to Leon's right cheek or his left, indifferently. The
precipitation of the two young people brought it about that neither
Clementine's cheeks nor Leon's received the offering intended for them.
And the mandarins on the etagére, who fully expected to hear two
kisses, heard but one. And Leon was confounded, and Clementine
blushed up to her ears, and the two lovers retreated a step, intently
regarding the roses of the carpet which will remain eternally graven
upon their memories.
In the eyes of Leon Renault, Clementine was the most beautiful
creature in the world. He had loved her for little more than three years,
and it was somewhat on her account that he had taken the journey to
Russia. In 1856 she was too young to marry, and too rich for an
engineer with a salary of 2,400 francs to properly make pretentions to
her hand. Leon, who was a good mathematician, proposed to himself
the following problem: "Given--one young girl, fifteen and a half years
old, with an income of 8,000 francs, and threatened with the inheritance
from Mlle. Sambucco of, say 200,000 more:--to obtain a fortune at
least equal to hers within such a period as will give her time enough to
grow up, without leaving her time enough to become an old maid." He

had found the solution in the Ural mines.
During three long years, he had indirectly corresponded with the
beloved of his heart. All the letters which he wrote to his father or
mother, passed into the hands of Mlle. Sambucco, who did not keep
them from Clementine. Sometimes, indeed, they were read aloud in the
family, and M. Renault was never obliged to omit a phrase, for Leon
never wrote anything which a young girl should not hear. The aunt and
the niece had no other distractions; they lived retired in a little house at
the end of a pretty garden, and received no one but old friends.
Clementine, therefore, deserved but little credit for keeping her heart
for Leon. With the exception of a big colonel of cuirassiers, who
sometimes followed her in her walks, no man had ever made any
demonstrations toward her.
She was very pretty withal, and not so merely to the eyes of her lover,
or of the Renault family, or of the little city where she lived. Provincial
towns are apt to be easily satisfied. They give the reputation of being a
pretty woman or a great man, cheaply; especially when they are not
rich enough in such commodities to show themselves over particular.
In capitals, however, people claim to admire nothing but absolute merit.
I have heard the mayor of a village say, with a certain pride: "Admit
now, that my servant Catherine is right pretty, for a village of six
hundred people!" Clementine was pretty enough to be admired in a city
of eight hundred thousand. Fancy to yourself a little blonde creole, with
black eyes, creamy complexion and dazzling teeth. Her figure was
round and supple as a twig, and was finished off with dainty hands and
pretty Andalusian feet, arched and beautifully rounded. All her glances
were smiles, and all her movements caresses. Add to this, that she was
neither a fool nor a prude, nor even an ignoramus like girls brought up
in convents. Her education, which was begun by her mother, had been
completed by two or three respectable old professors selected by M.
Renault, who was her guardian. She had a sound heart, and a quick
mind. But I may reasonably ask myself why I have so much to say
about her, for she is still living; and, thank God! not one of her
perfections has departed.

CHAPTER II.
UNPACKING BY CANDLE-LIGHT.
About ten o'clock in the evening, Mlle. Virginie Sambucco said it was
time to think of going home: the ladies lived with monastic regularity.
Leon protested; but Clementine obeyed, though not without pouting a
little. Already the parlor door was open, and the old lady had taken her
hood in the hall, when the engineer, suddenly struck with an idea,
exclaimed:
"You surely won't go without helping me to open my trunks! I demand
it of you as a favor, my good Mademoiselle Sambucco!"
The respectable lady paused: custom urged her to go; kindness inclined
her to stay; an atom of curiosity swayed the balance.
"I'm so glad!" cried Clementine, replacing her aunt's hood on the rack.
Mme.