This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By THERESE BENTZON (MME. BLANC)
Love, like any other human malady, should be treated according to the ageand temperament of the sufferer. Madame de Nailles, who was a very keenobserver, especially where her own interests were concerned, lent herselfwith the best possible grace to everything that might amuse and distractJacqueline, of whom she had by this time grown afraid. Not that she nowdreaded her as a rival. The attitude of coldness and reserve that theyoung girl had adopted in her intercourse with Marien, her stepmothercould see, was no evidence of coquetry. She showed, in her behavior tothe friend of the family, a freedom from embarrassment which was new toher, and a frigidity which could not possibly have been assumed sopersistently. No! what struck Madame de Nailles was the suddenness ofthis transformation. Jacqueline evidently took no further interest inMarien; she had apparently no longer any affection for herself—she, whohad been once her dear little mamma, whom she had loved so tenderly, nowfelt herself to be considered only as a stepmother. Fraulein Schult,too, received no more confidences. What did it all mean?
Had Jacqueline, through any means, discovered a secret, which, in herhands, might be turned into a most dangerous weapon? She had a way ofsaying before the guilty pair: "Poor papa!" with an air of pity, as shekissed him, which made Madame de Nailles's flesh creep, and sometimes shewould amuse herself by making ambiguous remarks which shot arrows ofsuspicion into a heart already afraid. "I feel sure," thought theBaroness, "that she has found out everything. But, no! it seemsimpossible. How can I discover what she knows?"
Jacqueline's revenge consisted in leaving her stepmother in doubt. Shemore than suspected, not without cause, that Fraulein Schult was false toher, and had the wit to baffle all the clever questions of her'promeneuse'.
"My worship of a man of genius—a great artist? Oh! that has all cometo an end since I have found out that his devotion belongs to an elderlylady with a fair complexion and light hair. I am only sorry for him."
Jacqueline had great hopes that these cruel words would be reported—asthey were—to her stepmother, and, of course, they did not mitigate theBaroness's uneasiness. Madame de Nailles revenged herself for thisinsult by dismissing the innocent echo of the impertinence—of course,under some plausible pretext. She felt it necessary also to be verycautious how she treated the enemy whom she was forced to shelter underher own roof. Her policy—a policy imposed on her by force ofcircumstances—was one of great indulgence and consideration, so thatJacqueline, soon feeling that she was for the present under no control,took the bit between her teeth. No other impression can adequatelyconvey an idea of the sort of fury with which she plunged into pleasureand excitement, a state of mind which apparently, without any transition,succeeded her late melancholy. She had done with sentiment, she thought,forever. She meant to be practical and positive, a little Parisienne,and "in the swim." There were plenty of examples among those she knewthat she could follow. Berthe, Helene, and Claire Wermant were excellentleaders in that sort