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CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page A 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages
CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page B 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages
 WOR K B O OK F OR

The Musician’s Guide to

Theory and Analysis
THIRD EDITION

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CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page ii 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages
 WOR K B O OK F OR

The Musician’s Guide to

Theory and Analysis
THIRD EDITION

Jane Piper Clendinning

Florida State University College of Music

Elizabeth West Marvin

Eastman School of Music

W. W. N O R T O N & C O M PA N Y
NEW YORK • LONDON

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page iii 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

W. W. Norton & Company has been independent since its founding in 1923, when William Warder
Norton and Mary D. Herter Norton first began publishing lectures delivered at the People’s
Institute, the adult education division of New York City’s Cooper Union. The Nortons soon
expanded their program beyond the Institute, publishing books by celebrated academics from
America and abroad. By mid-century, the two major pillars of Norton’s publishing program—trade
books and college texts—were firmly established. In the 1950s, the Norton family transferred control
of the company to its employees, and today—with a staff of four hundred and a comparable number
of trade, college, and professional titles published each year—W. W. Norton & Company stands as
the largest and oldest publishing house owned wholly by its employees.

Copyright © 2016, 2011, 2005 by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

All rights reserved

Third Edition

Manufacturing by Quad–Taunton
Associate project editor: Michael Fauver
Production manager: Jane Searle
Book design: Rubina Yeh
Composition, layout, and music setting: David Botwinik
Copyeditor: Jodi Beder
Proofreader: Debra Nichols

ISBN 978-0-393-26462-3 (pbk.)

W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110
www.wwnorton.com
W. W. Norton & Company, Ltd., Castle House, 75/76 Wells Street, London WIT3QT

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page iv 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

Contents

Preface vii

Part I Elements of Music

1. Pitch and Pitch Class 3
2. Simple Meters 13
3. Pitch Collections, Scales, and Major Keys 25
4. Compound Meters 35
5. Minor Keys and the Diatonic Modes 47
6. Intervals 59
7. Triads 71
8. Seventh Chords 81
9. Connecting Intervals in Note-to-Note Counterpoint 93
10. Melodic and Rhythmic Embellishment in Two-Voice Composition 107

Part II Diatonic Harmony and Tonicization

11. From Species to Chorale Style: Soprano and Bass Lines 129
12. The Basic Phrase in SATB Style 141
13. Dominant Sevenths, the Predominant Area, and Chorale Harmonization 153
14. Expanding the Basic Phrase 165
15. New Cadence Types and Diatonic Root Progressions 177
16.
17.
Embellishing Tones 187
ø
Voice-Leading Chords: viiL6, viiL7, vii 7, and Others 199
18. Phrase Structure and Motivic Analysis 209
19. Diatonic Sequences 221
20. Secondary Dominant and Leading-Tone Chords to V 233
21. Tonicizing Scale Degrees Other Than V 243

Part III Chromatic Harmony and Form

22. Modulation to Closely Related Keys 257
23. Binary and Ternary Forms 269
24. Invention, Fugue, and Baroque Counterpoint 281
25. Variation 293
26. Modal Mixture 311
27. The Neapolitan Sixth and Augmented-Sixth Chords 321
28. Vocal Forms 335
29. Popular Music 347

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page v 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

vi Contents

30. Chromatic Harmony and Voice-Leading 359

31. Chromatic Modulation 371
32. Sonata, Sonatina, and Concerto 385
33. Rondo, Sonata-Rondo, and Large Ternary 401

Part IV The Twentieth Century and Beyond

34. Modes, Scales, and Sets 421
35. Rhythm, Meter, and Form in Music after 1900 433
36. Music Analysis with Sets 447
37. Sets and Set Classes 461
38. Ordered Segments and Serialism 477
39. Rhythm, Meter, and Form after 1945 505
40. Recent Trends 523

Credits 535
Index of Music Examples 539

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page vi 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

Preface

T
he study of music theory is not a spectator sport. To learn musical elements
and how to analyze them requires action—personal engagement with com-
positions. This workbook is designed to accompany The Musician’s Guide
to Theory and Analysis, providing hands-on, minds-engaged assignments
for students to complete outside of class or for use in class, as the teacher chooses.
Assignments are arranged in chapter order, so that you will have enough information
to complete the first homework assignment on a given topic even if you have only cov-
ered the first part of that chapter. Assignments include fundamental skills such as chord
spelling, style composition—from melody writing to figured bass to composing music in
complete small forms—and music analysis. Many chapters ask for short, prose responses
to questions about the music you are studying. By practicing each new skill from a variety
of perspectives, you will have a better and more well-rounded understanding.
Our text’s approach to learning music theory is a “spiral” one, in which we revisit the
anthology’s core repertoire from chapter to chapter as new concepts are introduced; the
workbook continues the spirals established in the text, revisiting anthology scores in a
series of analytical explorations, as well as introducing additional compositions. We hope
that by examining aspects of these works as you learn analytical methods, you will even-
tually be able to hear anthology pieces in your head—as you do familiar songs—and also
understand why the pieces sound the way they do.
In this third edition, we have incorporated the ideas of helpful reviewers, colleagues,
and students, while retaining the musicality and richness of content of the first two edi-
tions. New for this edition is Know It? Show It!, an innovative online pedagogy that helps
students develop music theory fluency:
œœ First, students watch video tutorials that explain key concepts through animated
graphics showing how to approach each task.
œœ Then, formative quizzes—powered by Norton InQuizitive—help students develop
the skills they’ll need to complete assignments. InQuizitive asks students ques-
tions—many featuring musical notation—until they demonstrate mastery, while
robust feedback to incorrect responses points students back to the textbook and
tutorials for review.
œœ Finally, students are ready to complete assignments in either the printed or online
workbook. With the online workbook, students can easily hear the results of their
work, and teachers can grade and return assignments electronically.

These new resources are all designed to be easily employed in any theory class and to help
students succeed.

vii

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page vii 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

viii Preface

Our Thanks to . . .
A work of this size and scope is helped along the way by many people. We are especially
grateful for the support of our families—Elizabeth A. Clendinning, Rachel Armstrong,
and Bill Iliff; and Glenn, Russell, and Caroline West. Our work together as coauthors has
been incredibly rewarding, and we are thankful for that collaboration and friendship. We
also thank Joel Phillips (Westminster Choir College) for his many important contribu-
tions—pedagogical, musical, and personal—to our project, and especially for the coordi-
nated aural skills component of this package, The Musician’s Guide to Aural Skills with
Paul Murphy (Muhlenberg College), who has become a key member of our team. While
working on the project, we have received encouragement and useful ideas from our stu-
dents at Florida State University and the Eastman School of Music, as well as from music
theory teachers across the country. We thank these teachers for their willingness to share
their years of experience with us.
We are indebted to the W. W. Norton staff for their commitment to The Musician’s
Guide series and their painstaking care in producing these volumes. Most notable among
these are Justin Hoffman, who steered the entire effort with a steady hand and enthusi-
astic support; Susan Gaustad, whose knowledge of music and detailed, thoughtful ques-
tions made her a joy to work with; and Maribeth Payne, whose vision helped launch the
series. Michael Fauver project edited the workbook, Jodi Beder copyedited the manu-
script and checked the assignments, and Debra Nichols proofread it. David Botwinik set
the text and Workbook, and Andy Ensor and Jane Searle oversaw the production of this
multifaceted project through to completion. We are grateful for Norton’s forward-think-
ing technology editor Steve Hoge, who coordinated the development of the online work-
book, with the assistance of Stephanie Eads, Courtney Hirschey, and Meg Wilhoite. Our
sincere gratitude to one and all.

Jane Piper Clendinning

Elizabeth West Marvin

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page viii 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

 WOR K B O OK F OR

The Musician’s Guide to

Theory and Analysis
THIRD EDITION

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page ix 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages

CH00_MGTA3_SWB_FM_26462  page x 3 February 2016   12:40 PM   Fifth Pages
 PART
I

Elements of Music

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CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 2 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages
 1 Pitch and Pitch Class

NAME ___________________________________________________

Assignment 1.1 This assignment covers elementary fundamentals and may be skipped.

I. Identifying letter names from the keyboard

A. Count letter names above the pitches labeled on the keyboard (e.g., 3 above C). Be sure to count the
given note (C–D–E). Write the letter name of the new pitch (E) on the appropriate key and in the blank
provided.

C E A C D F G D E F G B

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

(1) 3 above C E (2) 4 above A D (3) 4 below F C

(4) 6 above G E (5) 3 above D F (6) 3 below B G

B. Write the letter name for each numbered white or black key in the blank. Choose either enharmonic
name for black keys.
1 3 5 8 11 12

2 4 6 7 9 10

(1) E or D (2) E (3) G or A (4) D (5) F or G (6) G

(7) B (8) C or D (9) E (10) F (11) A or G (12) B or A

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 3 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 II. Identifying whole and half steps at the keyboard
Locate each pair of pitches on the keyboard below in any octave. Write their names on a white key or above
a black key. Then, in the blank provided, write W (whole step), H (half step), or N (neither).

(a) A #–B H (b) F–E H (c) G b –A N

(d) B b –C W (e) G #–G n H (f ) D b –C b W

(g) F #–G # W (h) E–F b N (i) G b –G n H

G A F G B D G

E/
G B E F C C F G A

(j) B–C H (k) G–A # N (l) C #–D # W

(m) E b –E n H (n) A–B W (o) A b –G b W

(p) B b –C # N (q) E b –F W (r) A b –A n H

B /A
E D /E
C G A

B C E G A B F A

For speed and simplicity, instructors may simply grade the answers students write in the blanks and
use the markings on the keyboard to troubleshoot incorrect answers.

III. Enharmonic pitches

Circle any pair of pitches that are not enharmonic.

(a) F #–G b (b) B ‹ –C (c) A #–B b (d) C b –B (e) G bb –F (f ) D–E bb

(g) E #–F b (h) A bb –G (i) D ‹–E (j) C ‹–D (k) B b –C bb (l) A ‹–B b

4 Part I Elements of Music

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 4 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 NAME ___________________________________________________

Assignment 1.2
I. Identifying whole and half steps at the keyboard
In each exercise below, start with the key indicated and move your finger along the path of half and whole
steps given. In the blank, write the name of the pitch where you end.

(a) Begin on C: down W, down H, down W, up H, up H = A

(b) Begin on E: up W, up H, up W, down H, up W, up W = C

(c) Begin on F #: down W, down W, up H, down W, down H, up W = D

(d) Begin on A b: up W, up W, up W, down H, up W, up W = F

(e) Begin on C #: down W, up H, up W, up W, up H, up H = F

(f ) Begin on B: up H, up H, down W, down H, down W, down W = F

(g) Begin on D: up H, down W, down W, down H, down H, up W = B

(h) Begin on E b: down W, down W, down H, down W, up H, up H = B

II. Staff notation

Write the letter name of each pitch in the blank below.

A. Treble and bass clefs

A
____ E
____ G
____ D
____ B
____ F
____ A
____ D
____ E
____ C
____ F
____ G
____

F
____ A
____ C
____ E
____ G
____ A
____ D
____ B
____ B
____ G
____ F
____ C
____

Chapter 1 Pitch and Pitch Class 5

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 5 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 B. Alto and tenor clefs

C
____ F
____ F
____ A
____ A
____ E
____ E
____ G
____ B
____ D
____ F
____ G
____

C
____ A
____ F
____ E
____ B
____ D
____ E
____ F
____ C
____ G
____ D
____ E
____

III. Half and whole steps from staff notation

For each pitch pair below, write W (whole step), H (half step), or N (neither) in the blank.

H
____ W
____ H
____ H
____ W
____ H
____

H
____ N
____ H
____ H
____ H
____ W
____

W
____ H
____ W
____ W
____ N
____ W
____

IV. Analysis: Purcell, “Music for a While,” mm. 19–21 (vocal part)
Write W (whole step), H (half step), or N (neither) in the blank below the shaded pitches.

H
(a) ____ W
(b) ____ H
(c) ____ W
(d) ____ W
(e) ____

6 Part I Elements of Music

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 6 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 NAME ___________________________________________________

Assignment 1.3
I. Writing whole and half steps on the staff
For each given note:
œœ Draw a stem to make a half note; be sure that the stem is on the correct side of the note and extends
in the correct direction.
œœ Write a second half note a whole or half step above or below the given note, as indicated by the arrow.
œœ Choose a spelling for the second note that has a different letter name from the given pitch.

II. Identifying pitches with and without ledger lines

Write the letter name of each pitch in the blank provided.

C
____ B
____ A
____ F
____ G
____ A
____ B
____ B
____ E
____ F
____ F
____ A
____

E
____ B
____ C
____ B
____ E
____ G
____ F
____ A
____ D
____ G
____ E
____ C
____

Chapter 1 Pitch and Pitch Class 7

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 7 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 III. Identifying pitches in C-clefs
For each pitch on the left, write the C-clef equivalent on the right. Then label every pitch with the correct
letter name and octave number in the blank. Don’t change the octave.

B 3
____ F 4
____ A 4
____ C4
____ G 3
____ B 3
____ F 4
____ A 4
____ C4
____ G 3
____

F 3
____ E 4
____ B3
____ D 3
____ V4
____ F 3
____ E 4
____ B3
____ D 3
____ V4
____

IV. Analysis
In the following melodies, write W or H for each bracketed pair of pitches in the blank below.

A. Joel Phillips, “Blues for Norton,” mm. 20–24 (bass line)

W (2) ___
(1) ___ H (3) ___
H H (5) ___
(4) ___ H W
(6) ___ W
(7) ___

B. Mozart, Variations on “Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman,” mm. 164–168 (left hand)

H
(1) ___ W
(2) ___ H
(3) ___ W
(4) ___ H
(5) ___ H (7) ___
(6) ___ H

C. Joplin, “Pine Apple Rag,” mm. 1–4 (right hand)

W (2) ___
(1) ___ W (3) ___
H (4) ___
W (5) ___
W H
(6) ___ H (8) ___
(7) ___ W

D. Willie Nelson, “On the Road Again,” mm. 11–14

H
(1) ___ H
(2) ___ W
(3) ___ W
(4) ___

8 Part I Elements of Music

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 8 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 NAME ___________________________________________________

Assignment 1.4
I. Identifying pitches in mixed clefs
Write the letter name and octave number of each pitch below.

E2
____ D5
____ F4
____ C3
____ B1
____ F4
____ A5
____ G3
____

F3
____ D2
____ D3
____ E4
____ A4
____ B4
____ D6
____ A1
____

II. Writing half and whole steps in mixed clefs

In the following exercises, choose a spelling that has a different letter name from the given pitch.

A. Write a whole step above each given note.

B. Write a whole step below each given note.

C. Write a diatonic half step above each given note (with a different letter name).

D. Write a diatonic half step below each given note (with a different letter name).

Chapter 1 Pitch and Pitch Class 9

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 9 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 III. Identifying pitch and register in musical contexts
In the excerpts below, write the letter name and octave number of the shaded pitch in the blank that corre-
sponds with the numbers marked on the score.

A. Haydn, String Quartet in D Minor, Op. 76, No. 2 (Quinten), mvt. 3, mm. 1–11

(1) F5 (2) D3 (3) D6 (4) G 4 (5) G 3

(6) A5 (7) C 2 (8) C 3 (9) A3 (10) D2

B. Clara Schumann, Drei Romanzen, Op. 21, No. 1, mm. 5–8

(1) E5 (2) D4 (3) A1 (4) G3 (5) C 2 (6) G1

10 Part I Elements of Music

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 10 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 NAME ___________________________________________________

Assignment 1.5
I. Arranging
Rewrite each excerpt on the blank staff provided, according to the individual instructions. Use ledger lines
as needed. Remember to change the stem direction where necesssary in the new octave. Copy note heads,
stems, and other symbols as shown (you’ll learn more about them in Chapter 2).

A. Foster, “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair,” mm. 5–8

Rewrite one octave lower in the bass clef.

B. Purcell, “Music for a While,” mm. 21–22

Rewrite this line for bassoon in the tenor clef; don’t change the octave.

C. Mozart, Symphony No. 41 in C Major, mvt. 4, mm. 407–411 (viola)

Rewrite this viola part for violin in the treble clef; don’t change the octave.

Chapter 1 Pitch and Pitch Class 11

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 11 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 II. Composing melodies
On the staves below, compose two melodies of mostly whole and half steps in any musical style you choose.
œœ Choose a different “home” pitch for each melody. Begin and end on this note.
œœ Write at least ten pitches for each, using only adjacent letter names (e.g., B–C or G–F #–E).
œœ Write two to three times as many whole steps as half steps.
œœ Notate all accidentals, even naturals.
œœ Notate your melody with rhythm if you wish, or use filled and hollow note heads as shown below
(hollow note heads last twice as long as filled).

Sample melody 1

Sample melody 2

A. Melody 1

B. Melody 2

12 Part I Elements of Music

CH01_MGTA3_SWB_26462_001_012  page 12 30 December 2015   7:19 PM   Third Pages

 2 Simple Meters

NAME ___________________________________________________

Assignment 2.1 This assignment covers elementary fundamentals and may be skipped.

I. Notation basics
A. Circle any notation errors on the left, then renotate the entire exercise correctly on the right.

B. For each rhythmic value or rest notated on the first line, notate the corresponding rest or note on the
second line.

II. Identifying meter

Write the meter signatures and meter type (e.g., simple duple) for each of the following melodies.

A. Bach, Minuet II from Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, mm. 1–8

Meter: Meter type: simple triple

B. Clara Schumann, “Liebst du um Schönheit,” mm. 3–6

Meter: Meter type: simple quadruple

13

CH02_MGTA3_SWB_26462_013_024  page 13 6 May 2016   2:46 PM   Third Pages

 C. Schubert, Waltz in B Minor, Op. 18, No. 6, mm. 1–8

Meter: Meter type: simple triple

III. Counting rhythms

For each rhythm provided, add the missing bar lines and write the counts below the score. Then perform
the rhythm.

(1) Lionel Richie, “Three Times a Lady,” mm. 11–14

(2) Bono and U2, “Miracle Drug,” mm. 29–32 (last measure is incomplete)

14 Part I Elements of Music

CH02_MGTA3_SWB_26462_013_024  page 14 6 May 2016   2:46 PM   Third Pages

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leading her toward a little break-neck staircase at the farther end of
the entry, "your room is all ready. We have been hoping for you
every day this year." And she called to her husband, "Get up,
Peyraque, at once, and shut the door. Here is news, O, such good
news!"
The little chamber, whitewashed and furnished in rustic fashion, was,
like the lower room, of irreproachable neatness. The view was
magnificent; and blossoming fruit-trees came up to the level of the
window. "It is a paradise!" exclaimed Caroline to the good woman.
"It only needs a little fire, which you are going to make for me. I am
cold and hungry, but happy to see you and be with you. I must tell
you something, first of all. I don't want it known here who I am. My
reasons are good ones, and you shall know them; they will meet
your approval. Let us begin by agreeing on our facts; you have lived
at Brioude?"
"Yes; I was in service there before I was married."
"Brioude is a long way from here. Is there any one from that country
in Lantriac?"
"No one; and strangers never come. There is no road except for ox-
carts."
"I saw that myself. Then you can pass me off for some one you
knew at Brioude?"
"Very easily,—the daughter of my old mistress."
"No; I'm not to be a young lady."
"But she was not a young lady; she was a little tradeswoman."
"That's it; but I must have an occupation."
"Wait a minute!—that's easy enough. Be a pedler of small wares, like
the one I am speaking of."
"But then I shall have to sell something."
"I'll see to that. Besides, you are supposed to have made your
rounds, and I shall have detained you here as a matter of friendship;
for you are going to stay?"
"A month, at least."
"You must stay always. We will find you something to do, never fear.
But, let's see; what shall be your name?"
"Charlette; you called me that when I was a little thing; so it will not
give you any trouble. I am supposed to be a widow, and you must
say 'thou' to me."
"Just as I used to. Good! it is agreed. But how will you dress, my
dear Charlette?"
"Like this. You see it's not luxurious."
"It's not very rich, to be sure; though it will pass; but this lovely
blond hair of yours will attract the eye; and a city bonnet will be a
wonder."
"I thought of that; so I bought at Brioude one of the head-dresses
worn there. I have it in my travelling-bag, and I'm going to don my
costume at once for fear of a surprise."
"Then I'll go at once and get you some breakfast. You will eat with
Peyraque, I take it?"
"And with you, I hope. To-morrow I mean to help you about the
house and in the kitchen."
"O, you may pretend to do that! I don't want you to spoil those little
hands I used to take such care of. Now I'm going to see if Peyraque
is up, and let him know what has been agreed upon; then you must
tell us why there is need of all this mystery."
While talking, Justine had kindled the wood already in the fireplace.
She had filled the pitchers with pure cold water, which had trickled
from the rock, coming through an earthen pipe to the toilet-table of
her little chamber, and then down into the kitchen sink. This was an
invention of Peyraque's, who prided himself oh having ideas of his
own.
Half an hour afterward Caroline, whose simple attire marked no
particular station, put up her fine hair under the little head-dress
from Brioude, less scantily contrived, and more prettily curved than
the round dish-cover—which, like it, is of black felt trimmed with
velvet—worn by the women of Velay. It was all in vain; she was still
charming in spite of the weariness that dimmed the large eyes
"green like the sea," formerly so bepraised by the Marchioness.
The soup of rice and potatoes was quickly served in a small room
where Peyraque at odd moments did a little carpenter-work. The
good man thought this an unsuitable reception, and wanted to
sweep away the shavings. "On the contrary," said his wife, spreading
the chips and sawdust over the floor, "you don't understand at all!
She will think it a pretty carpet. O you don't know her yet! She is a
daughter of the good Providence, this one is!"
Caroline made acquaintance with Peyraque by embracing him. He
was a man of about sixty years, still very robust though thin, of
medium height, and plain-featured, like most of the mountaineers in
this region; but that his austere and even stern countenance bore
the stamp of integrity was evident at the first glance. His rare smile
was remarkably genial. You saw in it real affection and sincerity,
which were all the more unmistakable from the fact that they were
never lavished demonstratively.
Justine also had rigid features, and a blunt way of speaking. She
was a strong generous character. An earnest Roman Catholic, she
respected the silence of her husband who was of Protestant descent,
nominally converted indeed, but a free-thinker if there ever was one.
Caroline knew these circumstances and was touched to see the
delicate respect which this superior woman knew how to weave into
her love for her husband. It must be remembered that Mlle de Saint-
Geneix, the daughter of a very weak man, and the sister of an
inefficient woman, owed the great courage she possessed first to her
mother, who was of Cévenol parentage, and afterward to the ideas
Justine had given her in early life. She perceived this very clearly
when she found herself seated between this old couple whose
precise language and notions caused her neither fear nor surprise. It
seemed as if the milk of her mountain nurse had passed into her
whole being, and as if she were there in the presence of types with
which she had already been made familiar in some previous
existence.
"My friends," said she, when Justine had brought her the cream of
the dessert, while Peyraque washed down his soup with a draught of
hot wine, followed up before long with a draught of black coffee, "I
promised to tell you my story and here it is in few words. One of the
sons of my old lady had some idea of marrying me."
"Ah, indeed! that might well be," said Justine.
"You are right, because our characters and ideas are alike. Any one
ought to have foreseen that, and I myself first of all."
"And the mother, too!" said Peyraque.
"Well, no one seems to have thought of it; and the son surprised
and even angered the mother when he told her he loved me."
"And you?" asked Justine.
"I—I—why he never told me of it at all; and, as I knew I was not
noble enough or wealthy enough for him, I should never have
allowed him to think of it."
"Yes, that's right!" returned Peyraque.
"And it's true!" added Justine.
"Then I saw I could not stay a day longer, and at the first angry
word from the mother I went away without seeing the son again;
but the son would have hurried after me if I had remained with my
sister. The Marchioness wanted me to stay a little to have an
explanation with him, to tell him I did not love him—"
"That is what ought to have been done, perhaps," said Peyraque.
Caroline was forcibly impressed by the austere logic of the peasant.
"Yes, unquestionably," thought she, "my courage ought to have been
pushed thus far."
And, as she still kept silence, the nurse, enlightened by the
penetration of a loving heart, said to her husband, sharply, "Stop
talking there, you! How you run on! How do you know she did n't
love him, this poor child?"
"Ah! that, that is another thing," replied Peyraque, bowing his
serious, thoughtful head, which now looked nobler for the sense of
delicate pity expressed upon his face.
Caroline was touched in an unspeakable degree by the
straightforwardness of this simple friendship, which with one word
touched the sorest spot in her wound. What she had not had
strength or confidence to tell her sister, she was impelled not to
disguise from these hearts, so thoroughly true and so able to read
her own. "Well, my friends, you are right," said she, taking their
hands. "I should not perhaps have been able to lie to you, for, in
spite of myself, I—I do love him!"
Hardly had she spoken the words, when she was seized with terror,
and looked around as if Urbain might have been there to hear them;
then she burst into tears at the thought that he never would hear
them.
"Courage, my daughter, the Lord will aid you," exclaimed Peyraque,
rising.
"And we will aid you, too," said Justine, embracing her. "We will hide
you, we will love you, we will pray for you!"
She led her back to her room, undressed her, and made her lie
down, with motherly care that she should be warm and not see the
sun shining in too early on her bed. Then she went down to apprise
her neighbors of the arrival from Brioude of a person named
Charlette, to answer all their questions, mentioning her paleness and
her beauty that these might not strike them too forcibly. She took
pains to tell them also that the speech of Brioude was not at all like
that of the mountains, so Charlette would be unable to talk with
them. "Ah! the poor creature," replied the gossips. "She will find it
very dull and tiresome with us!"
A week later, after having informed her sister, in the proper time and
place, of her safe arrival, Caroline gave her some detailed account of
her new mode of life. It must not be forgotten that, hiding her actual
sorrow, she was trying to reassure her sister, and to divert her own
thoughts by affecting an independence far from being so complete
or so real as it seemed.
"You can form no idea of the care they take of me, these Peyraques.
Justine is always the same noble woman, with a heart like an
angel's, whom you know, and whom our father could not bear to see
going away from us. So it is saying more than a little to declare that
her husband is worthy of her. He has even more intelligence,
although he is slower of comprehension; but what he does
understand is as if engraved on marble without spot or blemish. I
assure you I am not weary a single moment with them. I could be
alone much more than I am, for my little room is free from all
intrusion of servants, and I can dream without being disturbed; but I
rarely feel the need of this: I am contented among these worthy
people, I am conscious of being loved.
"They have, besides, something of intellectual life, like most of the
people here. They inquire about things in the world without; and it is
astonishing to find in a kind of blind alley, among such wild
mountains, a peasantry with so many notions foreign to their own
necessities and habits. Their children, their neighbors, and their
friends impress me as active, intelligent, and honest, while Peyraque
tells me it is the same in villages farther still from all civilization.
"As an offset to this, the dwellers in the little groups of cottages
scattered over the mountain, those who are only peasants,
shepherds, or laborers, live in an apathy beyond all comprehension.
The other day I asked a woman the name of a river which formed a
magnificent cascade not more than a hundred paces from her
house. 'That is water,' she replied. 'But the water has a name, has
n't it?' 'I will ask my husband; I don't know myself; we women
always call all the rivers water.'
"The husband knew enough to tell me the names of the torrent and
the cascade; but when I asked for those of the mountains on the
horizon, he said he knew nothing about them, he had never been
there. 'But you must have heard that those are the Cévennes?'
"'Perhaps so! The Mézenc and the Gerbier de Joncs [sheaf or stack
of reeds] are over there, but I don't know which they are.'
"I pointed them out to him; they are easily recognized,—Mézenc, the
loftiest of the peaks, and the Gerbier, an elegant cone, which holds
in its crater reeds and swamp-grasses. Only, the good man would
not even look. It was all precisely the same to him. He showed me
the 'grottos of the ancient savages,' that is, a kind of Gallic or Celtic
village hollowed out of the rock, with the same precautions that
beasts of the wilderness use to conceal their dens; for you can
examine this rock and follow it without discovering anything unusual
unless you know the path which penetrates this labyrinth and its
habitations. Ah, my dear Camille, am I not here a little like those
'ancient savages,' who, for fear of intrusion, hid themselves in caves
and sought their peace in forgetfulness of the whole world?
"At all events, the inhabitants of La Roche impress me as being the
direct descendants of those poor Celts, hidden in their rock, and, as
it were, bound to it. I looked at the woman, with bare legs and dull
eyes, who conducted us into the grottos, and asked myself whether
three or four thousand years had really passed away since her
ancestors took root in these stones.
"You see I go out, for prudence does not require the in-door life,
which you feared for me. On the contrary, having nothing to read
here, I feel the need of strolling about, and my movements surprise
the good people of Lantriac much less than a mysterious retreat
would do. I run no risk of meeting strangers. You saw me set out in
clothing that would not attract attention in the least. Besides, I have
a black felt hat, larger than those worn here, which shades my face
quite nicely. In case of need, too, I can conceal it entirely under the
brown hood I brought with me, which the capricious weather gives
me an excuse for wearing in my walks. I am not just like the women
of the country; but there is nothing in my appearance to create a
sensation in the places where I go.
"Then, too, I have a pretext for going out, which accounts for
everything. Justine has a little trade in small wares and gives me
charge of a box whose contents I offer for sale, while Peyraque, who
is a farrier, busies himself with visiting sick animals. This enables me
to go into the houses and observe the manners and customs of the
country. I sell but little, for the women are so absorbed in their lace-
making that they never mend for their husbands, their children, or
themselves. Here is the triumph of rags worn with pride. Their
devotion to their one occupation is so passionate as to exclude all
material well-being and all cleanliness even, as a profane superfluity.
Avarice finds its account in this, and vanity also, for if Justine gave
me jewelry to sell I should soon have customers more eager for that
than for linen and shoes.
"They produce all those marvellous black and white laces, which you
have seen Justine make at our house. It is wonderful to see, here
among the mountains, this fairy-like work coming from the hands of
these poor creatures, and the trifling sum they realize shocks the
traveller. They would cheerfully give you for twenty sous what they
ask twenty francs for in Paris, if they were allowed to trade with the
consumer; but this is strictly forbidden. Under the pretext of having
furnished silk, thread, and patterns, the dealer monopolizes and sets
a price on their work. In vain you offer to supply the peasant-woman
with materials and pay her well. The poor woman sighs, looks at the
money, shakes her head, and replies that she will not risk losing the
patronage of 'her master' in order to profit by the liberality of a
person who will not employ her permanently, and whom she may
possibly never see again. And then all these women are pious, or
pretend to be so. Those who are sincere have sworn by the Virgin
and the saints not to sell to individuals, and one is forced to honor
their respect for a promise given. Those who make religion a regular
profession (and I see there are more such than one would suppose)
are conscious of being always under the hand and beneath the eye
of the priests, nuns, monks, and seminarists, with whom this country
is literally sown and covered even in the most uninhabitable places.
The convents have the work done; and here, as elsewhere, under
conditions of trade still more lucrative than those of the dealers. You
can see, in the vestibules of the churches even, the women from the
village in a sort of community, sitting in a circle, making their
bobbins fly as they murmur litanies or chant offices in Latin; which
does not, however, prevent them from gazing curiously at the
passers-by and exchanging remarks, while they reply ora pro nobis
to the gray, black, or blue sister who oversees the work and the
psalmody.
"These women are generally kind and hospitable. Their children
interest me, and when I find those who are ill, I am glad to be able
to point out the more simple attentions that should be given them.
There is either great ignorance or great indifference on this point.
Maternity here is rather passionate than tender. It is as if they told
you that children are created for the single purpose of learning how
to suffer.
"Peyraque's business, as his services are much in demand, leads us
into some almost inaccessible places on the mountain, giving me a
chance to see the finest landscapes in the world, for this wonderful
country is like a dream,—and my own life is a strange dream also, is
it not?
"Our fashion of going in search of adventures is quite primitive.
Peyraque has a little cart, which he is pleased to denominate a
carriage, because it has an awning of canvas, which somewhat
ambitiously pretends to shelter us. He harnesses to this vehicle now
an intrepid little mule, and now a pony, spirited but gentle, all skin
and bone like its owner, but like him, too, never flinching at
anything. So, while Justine's eldest son, just returned from the
regiment, where he has been shoeing artillery horses, continues his
trade under the paternal roof, his father and I wander over hill and
vale without regard to the weather. Justine pretends this does me so
much good that I must stay with her 'always,' and vows she will find
some way for me to earn our livelihood without humiliating myself to
serve any great lady.
"Alas! I never felt humiliated so long as I knew I was loved; and
then I loved so sincerely in return! Do you know it saddens me no
longer to receive a blessing every morning from that poor old
Marchioness, and not only so, but I am quite uneasy, alarmed about
her even, as if I felt she could not live without me? God grant she
may soon forget me, that my place may already have been filled by
one less fatal than I to her peace. But will she be cared for, morally
speaking, as I cared for her? Will her fanciful whims be understood,
the dulness of her leisure hours charmed away, or her children
spoken of as she loves to hear them spoken of? On my arrival here,
I drank in the free air with long breaths; I gazed at this grand,
rugged scenery which I had felt so strong a wish to know. I said to
myself, 'Here I am then free! I shall go where I please; I will talk as
little as I please; I shall no longer write the same letter ten times a
day to ten different people; I shall not live in a hot-house; I shall not
breathe the sharp perfumes of flowers distilled by chemical
processes, or of plants half dead on the windowsills; I shall drink
from the breeze hawthorn and wild thyme in their real fragrance.'
Yes, I said all this to myself, and I could not rejoice. I saw my poor
friend sad and lonely, perhaps weeping for having made me weep so
much!
"But she chose this, and to all appearance, it was necessary. I have
no right to blame her for a moment of unjust anger. The mother
thought only of her son, and such a son well deserves all a mother's
sacrifice. Perhaps she calls me hard and ungrateful for not falling in
with her plans, and I often ask myself if I ought not to have fallen in
with them; but I always answer that the end would not have been
attained. The Marquis de V—— is not one of those men who can be
sent off with a few commonplaces of cool disdain. Besides, you have
no right to act thus toward one who, far from declaring his passion,
has surrounded you with respect and delicate affection. In vain I
seek some language, half cold, half tender, which I might have used
in telling him that I hold his mother's happiness and his own equally
sacred: I do not find in myself the requisite tact or skill. Either the
real friendship I have for him would have deceived him as to my
feelings, leading him to think I was sacrificing myself to a sense of
duty, or my firmness would have offended him, as if I were parading
a virtue whose aid he has never given me occasion to invoke. No,
no! it could not be, it ought not to be.
"I have an impression that the Marchioness hinted that I might tell
him I had an engagement, another love. For Heaven's sake, let her
invent all she will now! Let her sacrifice my life and that which I hold
still more sacred, if need be. I have left the field clear: but, for my
own part, I could never have improvised a romance for the occasion.
And would he have been duped by it?
"Camille, you will see him, you have doubtless already seen him
again since that first visit, when you admitted it was hard for you to
play your part. You say it made you very unhappy to see him; he
was almost distracted—He is certainly calm now. He has so much
moral strength, he will understand so well that I must never see him
again? However, be on your guard! He is very keen. Tell him my
nature is a cold one—no, not that; he would n't believe it. But speak
of my invincible pride. That is true; yes, I am proud, I feel it! And if I
were not, should I deserve his affection?
"Perhaps it would have been liked if I had become really unworthy of
his regard,—not the mother; not she! no, never! She is too upright,
too pious, too pure in heart; but the Duke, I mean. Now, I can recall
a number of things which I did not understand, and they appear in a
new light. The Duke is excellent; he worships his brother. I believe
his wife, who is an angel, will purify his life and thoughts; but at
Séval, when he told me to save his brother at any cost,—I think of it
now, and I blush to think of it!
"Ah, that I might be allowed to disappear, that I might be allowed to
forget all! For a year I believed myself calm, worthy, happy. One day,
one hour has spoiled the whole. With one word, Madame de Villemer
has poisoned all the memories I had hoped to carry away unsoiled,
—memories which now I dare not dwell upon. In truth, Camille, you
were right in saying, as you sometimes did, that one should not be
too ingenuous, that I ventured out into life too quixotically. This will
serve me as a lesson, and I will renounce friendship as well as love.
I ask myself why I should not from this time onward break off all
relations with a world so full of dangers and snares, why I should
not accept my misery more bravely indeed than I have done. I could
create some resources in this province even, remote as it is in point
of civilization. I could not be a school-mistress, as Justine imagined
last year; the clergy have usurped everything here, and the good
sisters would not let me teach, even in Lantriac; but in a city I could
find pupils, or I could become a book-keeper in some mercantile
house.
"First of all, I must make sure of being forgotten there; but when
this oblivion is complete, I must indeed take thought for our
children, and I dwell upon this a little in advance. After all, be at
ease. I will find something. I shall manage to conquer the malicious
fates. I do not sleep, I cannot falter; you know this perfectly. You
have enough to live on for two months more, and I need absolutely
nothing here. Do not worry, let us always trust the good God, as
you, for your part, must trust the sister who loves you."

XXII

Caroline had reason to be alarmed by the inquiries M. de Villemer

was making at her sister's. He had already returned twice to
Étampes, and, fully aware that delicacy forbade anything like a
system of cross-questioning, he confined himself to watching the
demeanor of Camille, and drawing his own inferences from her silent
evasions. Thenceforth he might take it for granted that Madame
Heudebert knew her sister's hiding-place and that Caroline's
disappearance gave her no real uneasiness. Camille held in reserve
the letter which said Caroline had found employment away from
France, and did not produce it. She saw such anguish and distress in
the features of the Marquis, which were already much changed, that
she dared not inflict this last blow on the benefactor, the protector of
her children. Besides Madame Heudebert did not share all Caroline's
scruples or comprehend all her pride. She had not ventured to blame
her, in this regard; but she herself would not have held it so great a
crime to brave the displeasure of the Marchioness a little, and
become her daughter-in-law notwithstanding. "Since the intentions
of the Marquis were so serious," thought she, "and his mother loves
him so that she dares not oppose him openly, and, finally, since he is
of age and master of his own fortune, I don't see why Caroline could
not have used her influence over the old lady, her powers of
persuasion, and the evidence of her own worth, and so led her
gently to admit the propriety of the marriage.—There! poor Caroline,
with all her valiant devotedness, is too romantic, and will go away
and kill herself in order to support us; while, with a little patient tact,
she might be happy and make us all happy too."
Here is another common-sense opinion which may be set over
against that of Peyraque and Justine. Of these two lines of reasoning
the reader is free to adopt the one that he prefers; but the narrator
must, of necessity, hold an opinion also, and he avows a little
partiality for that of Caroline.
The Marquis perceived that Madame Heudebert made, now and
then, some timid allusions to the state of things, and felt sure she
knew the whole. He threw himself on her mercy a little more than he
had done hitherto; and Camille, encouraged, asked him, with a
sufficient want of tact, whether, in case the Marchioness proved
inexorable, he was fully resolved to make Caroline an offer of his
hand. She seemed on the point of betraying her sister's secret, if the
Marquis would pledge his word of honor.
The Marquis replied without hesitation: "If I was sure of being loved,
if the happiness of Mlle de Saint-Geneix depended on my courage, I
would contrive to do away with my mother's prejudices, at any cost;
but you give me no encouragement. Only give me that, and you will
see!"
"I give you encouragement!" exclaimed Camille, amazed and
confused. She hesitated to reply. She had indeed divined Caroline's
secret; but the latter had always guarded it proudly, not by
falsehood, but by never allowing herself to be questioned, and
Madame Heudebert had not the daring to inflict a severe wound on
her sister's dignity, by taking it upon herself to compromise her.
"That is something I am no wiser about than you," said she.
"Caroline has a strong character,—one which I cannot always
fathom."
"And this strength of hers is so great," said the Marquis, "that she
would never accept my name without my mother's sincere
benediction. This I know better even than you do. So tell me
nothing; it is for me alone to act. I ask of you only one thing more,
and that is to let me watch over you and your children until
something new shall occur, and even—yes, I will venture to say it—I
am haunted by the fear that Mlle da Saint-Geneix may find herself
without resources, exposed to privations which it makes me shudder
to think of. Spare me this dread. Let me leave you a sum which you
can return, if there is no use for it, but which, in case of need, you
will remit to her as coming from yourself.'
"O, that is quite impossible," replied Camille: "she would divine the
source, and never forgive me for having taken it!"
"I see you are really afraid of her."
"Just as I am of all that commands respect."
"Then we feel alike," replied the Marquis as he took leave. "I am so
thoroughly afraid of her that I dare not seek her any farther, and yet
I must find her again or die."
Shortly afterward the Marquis drew an explanation from his mother,
which was painful enough to both of them. Although he saw her
suffering, sad, regretting Caroline a hundred times more than she
admitted, and although he had resolved to await a more propitious
moment for his inquiries, the explanation came, in his own despite
and in despite of the Marchioness, through the fatality of
circumstances. The anxiety of the situation was too intense; it could
not be prolonged. Madame de Villemer confessed that she had
conceived a sudden prejudice against the character of Mlle de Saint-
Geneix, and that at the very moment of fulfilling her promise she
had let Caroline feel the exceeding pain it caused her. Gradually,
under the eager questioning of the Marquis, the conversation grew
more animated, and Madame de Villemer, pushed to extremity,
allowed the accusation against Caroline to escape her. The
unfortunate girl had committed a fault pardonable in the eyes of the
Marchioness when acting as her friend and guardian, but one which
made it quite out of the question even to think of receiving her as a
daughter.
Before this result of calumny the Marquis did not flinch one instant.
"It is an infamous lie," he cried, beside himself,—"a base lie! And
you could believe it? Then it must have been very artful and very
audacious. Mother, you must tell me all, for I am not disposed to be
taken in so myself."
"No, my son, I shall tell you no more," replied Madame de Villemer
firmly; "and every word you add to those you have just uttered, I
shall consider a breach of filial affection and respect."
So the Marchioness remained impenetrable; she had promised not to
betray Léonie; and, besides, nothing in the world would tempt her to
sow the seeds of discord between her two sons. The Duke had so
often told her, in Urbain's presence, that he had never sought or
obtained a single kind look from Caroline! This, in the opinion of the
Marchioness, was a falsehood the Marquis would never pardon. She
knew, now, that he had taken the Duke into his confidence, and that
Gaëtan, touched by his grief, had persuaded his wife into taking
measures for seeking Caroline in all the Parisian convents. "He does
not speak," said the Marchioness to herself; "he will not dissuade his
wife and brother from this folly, when he ought, at the very least, to
have confessed the past to the Marquis, in order to cure him of it. It
is too late now to risk such avowals. I cannot do it without leading
my two sons to kill each other after having loved so warmly."
Meanwhile Caroline wrote her sister as follows:—
"You feel alarmed because I am in so uneven and rocky a region,
and ask what can be fine enough to make one run the risk of being
killed at every step. First of all, there is really no danger here for me
under the guidance of this good Peyraque. The roads, that would be
actually frightful, and, as I think, impassable for carriages like those
with which we are familiar, are just large enough for the little carts
of this region. Then, too, Peyraque is very prudent. When he cannot
measure with his eye just precisely the space he needs, he has a
method of ascertaining it, which made me laugh heartily the first
time I saw him put it in practice. He trusts me with the reins, jumps
to the ground himself, takes his whip, which has the exact size of his
cart marked with a little notch on its stock, and, advancing a few
paces on the road, he proceeds to measure the width of the passage
between the rock and the precipice,—sometimes between one
precipice on the right and another on the left. If the road has a
centimetre more than is needful he comes back triumphant, and we
go quickly by. If we have no such centimetre in which to disport
ourselves, he makes me alight, while he leads the horse by the
bridle, dragging on the carriage. When we find two little walls
hemming in a foot-path, we place one wheel on either wall and the
horse in the pathway. I assure you one soon becomes accustomed
to all this, and already I think no more about it. The horses here
have no vicious tricks, and are not inclined to shy; they know the
danger as well as we, and accidents are no more frequent in this
country than they are on the plains. I certainly exaggerated the
danger of these jaunts in my first letters; it was from vanity, or a
lingering fear, of which I am wholly cured now that I feel it was
groundless.
"As to the beauty of Velay, I could never describe it for you. I did not
dream there could be, here in the heart of France, a country so
strange and so imposing. It is far more lovely than Auvergne,
through which I passed on my way hither. The city of Le Puy is
probably unique in point of location; it is perched upon masses of
lava that seem to spring up from its very heart and form a part of its
architecture. These lava pyramids are indeed the edifices of giants;
but those which man has placed on their sides, and often on their
summits, have certainly been inspired by the grandeur and wildness
of the spot.
"The cathedral is admirable, in the Romanesque style, of the same
color as the rocks, but slightly enlivened by the blue and white
mosaics on the pediments of its façade. It is placed so as to seem
colossal, for, to reach it, you must climb a mountain of dizzy steps.
The interior is sublime in its elegant strength and solemn dimness. I
never understood the terrors of the Middle Ages, or felt them, so to
speak, as I did under these bare, black pillars, beneath these storm-
laden domes. There was a furious tempest while I was there. The
flashes sent their infernal lights across the splendid windows that
strew the walls and pavements with jewels. The thunders seemed
rolling forth from the sanctuary itself. It was Jehovah in all his wrath;
but it gave me no alarm. The true God, whom we love to-day, has
no menaces for the weak. I prayed there with a perfect faith, and
felt it had done me good. As for these beautiful temples of the faith
in ages both rude and stern, it is clear they are the expression of the
one grand word, 'mystery,' whose veil it was forbidden to lift. If M.
de Villemer had been there he would have said—
"But a course of history and religious philosophy is not to the point
now. The ideas of M. de Villemer are no longer the book from which
I may study the past or learn to anticipate the future.
"You see, thanks to good Peyraque and his desire to show me the
marvels of Velay, thanks also to my impenetrable hood, I have
ventured into the city and its suburbs. The city is everywhere
picturesque; it is still a mediæval town, closely studded with
churches and convents. The cathedral is flanked by a whole world of
ancient structures, where, under mysterious arcades, and in the
turns and twists of the rock they stand on, you can see cloisters,
gardens, staircases, and mute shadows gliding by, hidden beneath
veil and cassock. A strange silence reigns there, and a certain odor
of the past, I know not what, which makes one shiver with fear, not
of our God, the source of all confidence and spiritual freedom, but of
everything that, in the name of God, breaks up forever the ties and
duties of our common humanity. In our convent, I remember a
religious life seemed cheerful; here, it is sombre enough to make
one tremble.
"From the cathedral you must keep going down hill for an hour to
reach the Faubourg d'Aiguilhe, where another monument rears its
head, which is natural and historic, at one and the same time, and,
indeed, the most curious thing in the world. It is a volcanic sugar-
loaf three hundred feet in height, which you mount by a spiral
stairway until you reach a Byzantine chapel, necessarily quite small,
but charming, and built, it is said, on the site and from the
fragments of a temple to Diana.
"A legend is current here, which struck me forcibly. A young girl, a
Christian virgin, pursued by some miscreant, flung herself to escape
him down from the top of the terrace; she arose at once; she was
unharmed. The miracle was noised abroad. She was declared a
saint. Pride grew strong in her heart; she promised to hurl herself
down again, to show she was under the protection of angels; but
this time Heaven deserted her, and she was crushed like a vain silly
creature as she was.
"Pride! yes, God leaves the proud to themselves, and without him
what can they do? But do not tell me that I am proud. No, it is not
pride. I have no desire to prove anything to any one. I ask to be
forgotten, and that there should be no suffering on my account.
"There is near Le Puy, forming a part of its magnificent landscape, a
village that also crowns one of those singular, isolated rocks, which
break through the soil here at every step. It is called Espaly, and this
rock also bears up the ruins of a feudal castle and of Celtic grottos.
One of these caves is inhabited by two persons, aged and poor,
whose squalid misery is heart-rending. This couple live here in the
solid rock, with a single hole for chimney and window. At night they
block up the door, in winter with straw; in summer, with the old
woman's petticoat. A small, rude bed without coverlids or mattress,
two stools, a little iron lamp, a spinning-wheel, and two or three
earthen pots,—these are all the furniture.
"Nevertheless, only a few paces from them there is a vast and
splendid house belonging to the Jesuits and named the Paradise. At
the foot of the rock flows a brook which brings down precious stones
in its sand. The old woman sold me for twenty sous a handful of
garnets, sapphires, and jacinths, which I am keeping for Lili. The
stones are too small to have any actual value, but there must be a
precious deposit somewhere among these rocks. The Jesuit fathers
will find it, perhaps; I don't expect to make the discovery myself,
however; so I must think about procuring some work. Peyraque has
an idea which he has enlarged upon for the last few days, and which
was suggested to him by this very rock of Espaly; I will tell you how.
"While strolling about over this rock, I was taken with one of my
sudden fancies for a little child, playing in the lap of a pretty woman
from the village, who was strong and cheerful. This child, you see, I
can compare with no one but our Charley, for inspiring affection. He
does not look like Charley, but has the same demure playfulness,
and the shy caresses which make one his willing slave. When I
called upon Peyraque to admire him, remarking how clean he was
kept, and that his mother made no lace, but seemed wholly taken up
with him, as if she knew she had a treasure there, Peyraque at once
replied, 'You have come nearer the truth than you thought. This
child is a treasure for Dame Roqueberte. If you ask who he is, she
will tell you it is the child of a sister she has in Clermont; but this is
not true: the little one has been placed in her charge by a gentleman
whom no one knows, who pays her for rearing it, who pays her,
besides, for taking great care of it, as if it were the son of a prince.
So you see this woman is well dressed and does not work. She was
in easy circumstances before. Her husband has charge of the castle
of Polignac, whose great tower, and in fact all the ruined portion,
you can see over yonder, on a rock larger and loftier than that of
Espaly; that is where she lives, and, if you meet her here, it is
because now she has such fine chances for pleasure strolls. The real
mother of the little one must be dead, for she has never been heard
of; but the father comes to see it, leaves money, and stipulates that
it shall not be allowed to want for anything.'
"You see, dear sister, this is a romance. That is partly what attracted
me perhaps, since, according to your ideas, I am quite romantic.
Certainly this little boy has something about him which captivates
the imagination. He is not strong; they say when he first came here
he had hardly life enough to breathe; but now he is quite blooming,
and the mountain air agrees with him so well that his father, who
came here at about this time last year to take him away, decided to
leave him a year longer, in order to have him regain his strength
completely. The little creature has an angelic face, dreamy eyes, with
a far-off look in them, strange in a child of his age, and there is a
wondrous grace in all his ways.
"Peyraque, seeing me so bewitched, scratched his head with an air
of profundity and continued, 'Well, tell me, then, since you are fond
of little children, why, instead of making it your occupation to read
aloud, which must be wearisome, do you not find a little pupil like
that, whom you could educate at your sister's with the other
children? This would leave you in your own home and to your own
ways.'
"'You forget, my good Peyraque, that perhaps it will be long before I
can go to my sister.'
"'Well, then, your sister might come and live here, or else you could
stay with us for a year or two; my wife would aid you in taking care
of the child, and you would only have the trouble of watching over
him and teaching him.—Stop! I have an idea of my own about this
child, since he pleases you so that you are doting on him already.
His father will come after him one of these days. Suppose I should
tell him about you?'
"'Then you are acquainted with him!'
"'I acted as driver for him once, and carried him to the mountain in
my carriage. He seems a fine man, but too young to take upon
himself the bringing up of a child of three years. He will have to
place it in charge of some woman, and he cannot leave it any longer
with the Roqueberts, for they are not capable of teaching what a
young gentleman like him ought to know. This would be your own
task, especially, and the father would never find so good a mother
for his child. Hope, hope! (which signifies wait!) I will keep watch at
Polignac, and as soon as this father arrives, I will manage to talk
with him in the proper way.'
"I let good Peyraque cultivate this project, and Justine also, but I
have no faith in it myself, for the mysterious personage expected will
ask questions I am unwilling to have answered, unless I am quite
sure he knows none of the people, either intimately or remotely,
from whom my place of retreat must be concealed. And how could I
make sure of that? Peyraque's idea is, nevertheless, in itself a good
one. To educate some child at home for a few years would please
me infinitely better than going into a strange family again. I would
rather take a girl than a boy, as she would be left with me a longer
time; but there will be little room for choice, for these children
hidden away by their parents are not easy to find. And there must
needs be the most perfect confidence in me. I must be well
recommended. Madame d'Arglade, who knows all the secrets of
fashionable life, could find for me a chance like this; but I would
rather not apply to her: without intending to do so, she might bring
upon me some fresh misfortune."

XXIII

A few days later Caroline wrote again to her sister.

"POLIGNAC, May 15.

"Here I have been for five days past, in one of the most imposing
ruined castles left from feudal times, on the summit of a great, black
lava boulder, like those I told you about in connection with Le Puy
and Espaly. You will think my position has changed, and my dream
has become reality. No: I am certainly near little Didier, but I have
taken it upon myself to watch over him, for his father or protector
has not yet appeared. Now see what has happened.
"I felt a wish to see the child again, besides a slight wish to learn
more about him; and lastly I had a desire to examine closely this
castle of Polignac, which looks from afar like a city of giants, on a
rock from the infernal depths. It is the strongest mediæval fortress
in the country; it was the nest of that terrible race of vultures under
whose ravages Velay, Forez, and Auvergne have trembled. The
ancient lords of Polignac have left everywhere throughout these
provinces mementos and traditions worthy of the legends about the
ogre and Blue-Beard. These feudal tyrants robbed travellers, pillaged
churches, murdered the monks, carried off women, set fire to
villages, and this, too, from father to son, through long centuries.
The Marquis de Villemer worked out of these facts one of the most
remarkable chapters of his book; drawing the conclusion that the
descendants of this family though innocent, assuredly, of the crimes
of their ancestors, seem, by their misfortunes, to have been
expiating the triumphs of barbarism.
"Their citadel was impregnable. The rock is sliced down
perpendicularly on all sides. The village forms a group below on the
little hill which supports the block of lava. It is some distance from
Lantriac. The insuperable ravines here make all distances great.
Having started early, however, we arrived last Tuesday toward noon,
and our little horse carried us to the foot of the postern. Peyraque
left me there, in order to take care of our animal, and to look at
some others, for he has quite a reputation in veterinary science, and
wherever he goes, practice of this kind always comes to him.
"I found a little girl ten years of age to open the door for me; but
when I asked to see Dame Roqueberte, the child told me with tears
that her mother was dying. I hurried to where she lives,—a part of
the castle still standing, in good repair,—and I found her the victim
of a brain-fever. Little Didier was playing about the room with
another of this poor woman's children; the latter child was quite
happy, comprehending nothing, although the elder; while Didier,
between smiles and tears, was looking toward the bedside with as
much anxiety as a little creature of three years could be expected to
show. When he caught sight of me, he came to me at once, and
without coquetting before embracing me, as he did the first time, he
clung to my dress, pulling me with his little hands, and saying
'mamma,' in a voice so plaintive and gentle that my whole heart was
won by it. He was certainly telling me about the strange condition of
his adopted mother. I drew near the bed. Dame Roqueberte could
not speak; she knew no one. Her husband came in after a moment
and began to be alarmed, for she had been in this state only a few
hours. I told him it was time to send for a physician and a woman to
take care of his wife, which he did at once; and as I could not be
sure that it was not typhoid fever, I sent the children out of the
room, warning the husband that it might be dangerous to leave
them there.
"When the physician came at the expiration of two hours, he
approved what I had done, observing that the disease had not yet
defined itself and that the children must be placed in some other
house. This change I undertook to make with the help of Peyraque,
for the husband had quite lost his senses, and thought of nothing
but having candles burnt in the village church and prayers mumbled
in Latin which he could not understand, but which seemed to him of
more efficacy than the doctor's prescriptions.
"When he had calmed down a little it was already four o'clock; and it
was necessary for Peyraque to set out again with me, that the night
might not overtake us in the ravine of the Gâgne. There was no
moon for the moment, and a storm was impending. Then poor
Roquebert began to lament, saying that he was ruined unless some
one would take care of the children, and especially of 'the child,'
meaning by that Didier,—the hen with the golden eggs for his
household. Special care was needful for him; he was not strong like
the children of the country, and besides he was 'curious,' he wanted
to go everywhere, and these ruins are a labyrinth of precipices,
where a young gentleman of this adventurous temper must not be
lost sight of a single moment. He dared not trust him with any one.
The money this little one had brought into his house had made
others envious, he had enemies; what did I know about it? In short,
Peyraque said to me in a low voice, 'Come, your good heart and my
own bright ideas are at one in this matter. Remain here; I see they
have the wherewith to lodge you comfortably; I will come back to-
morrow to see how the case stands, and take you home if there is
no further need of you.'
"I confess I desired this decision; it seemed as if it were a duty as
well as a privilege to watch over the child. Peyraque returned the
next day, and as I saw that Dame Roqueberte, though out of danger,
would not be able to sit up for some days, I consented to remain,
telling Peyraque not to come after me till the end of the week.
"I am very comfortable here, in a vast room, which is, I believe, an
old hall for the guards, that has been divided into several portions
for the use of the farmers. The beds, though very rustic, are clean,
and the housekeeping I attend to myself. I have the three children at
my side all the time. The little girl does the cooking while I
superintend; I see to the attendance which must be given the
mother; I wash and dress Didier myself. He is clothed like the
others, in a little blue blouse, but with more care, especially since I
have made it my concern,—and I am so fond of him that I dread the
moment when I shall have to leave him. You know my passion for
children,—that is, for some children; this one is certainly well born.
Charley would be as jealous of him as a tiger. Because, you see, this
Didier is surely the son of a superior man or woman. He is of high,
fine descent, morally speaking; his face is of a somewhat dull
whiteness with little flushes of color like those on standard roses. He
has brown eyes of admirable shape and expression, and a forest of
black hair, half inclined to curl, which is fine and soft as silk. His little
hands are perfect, and he never soils them. He does not dig in the
earth, and never touches anything: he passes his life in looking at
things. I am sure he has thoughts beyond his years which he cannot
express, or rather, a series of dreams, charming and divine, that
cannot be translated into human language; yet he talks very fluently
for one of his age, both in French and patois. He has caught the
accent of the country, but makes it very sweet by his infantile lisp.
He has the prettiest reasons in the world for doing as he pleases,
and what he pleases is to be out of doors, climbing over the ruins, or
crawling into their crevices; once there, he sits down, gazing at the
tiny flowers, and especially at the insects, without touching them,
but following all their motions, apparently interested in these living
marvels, while the other children think only of crushing and
destroying them.
"I have tried to give him his first notions in reading, being persuaded
(contrary to the father's opinion perhaps) that the earlier you begin
with children the more you spare them the heavy strain on the
attention, so painful when their strength and activity have found
greater development. I have tested his intelligence and curiosity;
they are unusual, and with our wonderful method, which succeeded
so well with your children, I am sure I could teach him to read in a
month.
"And then this child is all soul, and his self-will melts into boundless
affection. Our fondness is growing too fast really, and I ask myself
how we are ever going to part.
"Besides, although I miss my Justine and Peyraque, I enjoy myself
exceedingly among these magnificent ruins, commanding as they do
one of the loveliest spots on earth. The air is so pure that the white
stones, mixed with rough fragments of lava, are as bright as if just
from a quarry. And then the interior of this immense castle is stored
with very curious things.
"You must know that the Polignac family pretend to a descent from
Apollo or his priests in a direct line; and that tradition consecrates
the existence here of a temple to this god,—a temple of which some
fragments yet remain. As for myself, I think there is no doubt of it,
and that just to see these fragments is enough. The question to
decide is whether the inscriptions and carvings were brought here to
decorate the castle according to Renaissance usage, or whether the
castle was built upon these vestiges. Dame Roqueberte tells me the
scientific men of the country have been disputing over it for fifty
years, and for my own part I agree with those who think the
curbstone of the well was the mouthpiece of the god's oracles. The
orifice of this immense well, with which another and a smaller well
grotesquely communicates, was closed by a colossal head of noble
outline, whose perforated mouth gave forth the subterranean voice
of the priestess. Why not? Those who say it was only the mask of a
fountain are no surer. The head has been preserved from destruction
in the lower story of a little tower, along with a pile of stone bullets
found in the well. I have amused myself by taking a sketch of it,
which I send you in this letter, with a portrait of my little Didier at its
foot, lying sound asleep at full length upon the temple of the god. It
does not look like him, to be sure; but it will give you an idea of the
fantastic and charming picture which I have had before my eyes for
the last fifteen minutes.
"As for other matters, I do not read at all here. I have not
Peyraque's eight or ten stray volumes and his big old Protestant
Bible. I no longer try to improve myself; I hardly think of it even. I
mend the clothing of my Didier, following him step by step; I dream,
I am sad, but not rebellious, and not given to wondering any further
about a state of things to which I ought to submit,—and I am in
good health, which is the most important thing.
"Good old Peyraque comes in, bringing your letter. Ah! my sister, do
not give up weakly, or I shall be in despair. You say he is pale,
already ill; and this gave you so much pain that you came near
betraying me. Camille, if you have not strength enough to see a
courageous man suffer, and if you do not understand that my
courage alone can support his, I will set out again; I will go farther
away still, and you shall not know where I am. Consider yourself
notified, that the day I see the mark of a strange foot upon the sand
of my island, I shall disappear so entirely that—"

Caroline left the sentence unfinished; Peyraque, who had just given
her Madame Heudebert's letter, came back saying, "Here is the
gentleman coming."
"Who? what?" cried Caroline, rising and evidently quite troubled.
"What gentleman?"
"The father of the unknown child,—M. Bernyer he calls himself."
"Then you know his name? No one here knew it or would tell it."
"On my word, I am not very curious; but he threw his valise on a
bench at Roquebert's door, and my eye happened to fall upon it, so I
read."
"Bernyer! I don't know any such person; perhaps I might show
myself without getting into difficulty."
"Why, certainly you must see him, to tell him about the little one;
now is the time."
Roquebert came in, however, and defeated Peyraque's design. M.
Bernyer was asking for his son; but, according to his custom, he had
gone into a room, reserved for him especially, and did not wish, just
then, to see any one not of the family.
"It is all the same," added Roquebert. "I will tell him how you took
care of my wife and the little boy, and he will certainly give me
something good to repay you with. Otherwise I will do it myself, out
of my own pocket. Be easy about that."
He took the child in his arms and went out, closing the door behind
him, as if to shut out even a curious look from following him into the
passage leading to the stranger's room.
"Well, let us set out," said Caroline, whose eyes were full of tears at
the thought that she would probably never see Didier again.
"No," replied Peyraque, "let us wait a little and see what the
gentleman will think, when he knows you have stayed here five days
to take care of his child."
"But don't you see, my friend, that Roquebert will take care not to
tell him? He will never dare to own that, during his wife's illness, he
knew of nothing better than trusting the child to a stranger. And
beside, is he not anxious to keep Didier a year longer, which would
be very feasible? Will he let us give the father a hint that the child
would not only be better cared for, with us, but also educated as he
needs to be at his age? No, no. Dame Roqueberte herself, in spite of
the care I have given her, will say that no one knows me, that
perhaps I am only an adventuress; and while seeking gratitude and
confidence, we shall look as if we were intriguing to get the few
sous which have been offered us already."
"But when we refuse them it will be seen who we are. I am known
myself; it is understood that Samuel Peyraque has never lied or held
out his hand for money."
"This stranger knows nothing of all that, and he will inquire of the
Roqueberts only because he knows nobody else. Let me set out
quickly, my dear friend; I suffer every minute I stay here."
"Just as you like," said Peyraque. "I have not unharnessed, and we
can let the horse rest at Le Puy; but nevertheless, if you would trust
me, we should remain here one or two hours. Going thither from
here, we would naturally meet on the way; the child would come to
you and ask for you himself, he is so fond of you already. Look here
now! If the gentleman should see you only one minute, I am sure he
would say, 'Here is a person who is like no one else: I must speak to
her.' And when he had talked with you—"
Arguing in this way, Peyraque followed Caroline, who had gathered
up her clothing and was turning her steps toward the castle gate,
quite determined to start. Passing before the bench where the
stranger's valise was still lying beside his travelling-cloak, she read
the name which Peyraque had reported faithfully; but at the same
time she made a gesture of surprise and hurried along with unusual
agitation.
"What is it now? asked the good man, taking the reins.
"Nothing,—a fancy!" replied Caroline, when they were out of the
enclosure. "I imagined I recognized the hand of the person who
wrote the name of Bernyer on that valise."
"Bah! it was written just like print."
"That is true; I am silly! Never mind; let us go on, my good
Peyraque."
Caroline was absorbed in thought all the way. She accounted for the
singular emotion which the sight of this disguised handwriting had
caused her by what she had just experienced in reading her sister's
letter; but she had a new anxiety. M. de Villemer had never told her
that he had seen the castle of Polignac with his own eyes, but he
had given a fine description of it, and an accurate one, in his book;
he had taken it as an example of the strength of feudal restorations
in the Middle Ages, and Caroline knew he often travelled into the
provinces, in order to get a distinct impression of historic places. She
searched all the recesses of her memory to find what could not
possibly be there, to see if the Marquis had not accidentally chanced
to tell her that he had visited Polignac. "No," replied she to herself,
"if he had said so, I should have been impressed by it on account of
the names Lantriac and Le Puy, which Justine had mentioned." Then
she tried to remember whether, in connection with Polignac, she had
not spoken of Lantriac and Justine; but she had never mentioned
either of them to him, she was quite sure; so she grew calmer.
Yet she was agitated and thoughtful. Why had she taken such a
fancy to this unknown child? What was the peculiarity in his eyes,
his attitude, and his smile? Was it that he looked like the Marquis? In
the idea which had so suddenly presented itself, of educating a little
child and wishing for this one, might there not have been a vague
instinct more powerful than chance or Peyraque's instigations?
With all this uneasiness there came, too, in Caroline's despite, the
secret torment of a confused jealousy. "He has a son, then, a child
of love?" said she to herself. "He must, then, have loved some
woman passionately before he knew me, for frivolous adventures are
incompatible with his exclusive nature, and there has been an
important mystery in his past life! The mother is still living perhaps.
Why is she supposed to be dead?"
Advancing among these feverish speculations, she recalled the
words of the Marquis under the cedar in the Jardin des Plantes, and
the struggle she had caught a glimpse of between his filial duty and
some other duty, some other love, of which she herself might not be
the object after all. Who knew whether the old Marchioness had not
been equally at fault, whether the Marquis had told his mother the
name of the person he wanted to marry; in short, whether she
herself and Madame de Villemer had not both missed the truth?
Thus working herself into an involuntary excitement, Caroline strove
in vain to feel reconciled to her fate. She loved, and for her the
stronger feeling now was the fear rather than the hope of not being
loved in return.
"What is the trouble?" asked Peyraque, who had learned to read her
anxieties in her face.
She replied by overwhelming him with questions about this M.
Bernyer whom he had seen once. Peyraque had a keen eye and a
memory; but, habitually thoughtful and reserved, he bestowed his
attention only on people who especially interested him. He drew,
then, a picture of this pretended Bernyer so vague and incomplete
that Caroline made no progress. She slept poorly that night, but
toward morning she grew calm, and awoke saying to herself that
there had been no common sense in her excitement of the day
before.
Peyraque, having to go his rounds, could not linger till her
awakening. He came in at nightfall. His air was triumphant.
"Our affair is working well," said he. "M. Bernyer will come here to-
morrow, and you may rest easy; he is an Englishman, a sailor. You
don't know any such person, do you?"
"No, not at all," replied Caroline. "You saw him again, then?"
"No, he had just gone out; but I saw Dame Roqueberte, who is
better and begins to have her senses. She told me the little one
cried last night, and before he fell asleep asked over and again for
his Charlette. The father inquired who she was. It seems that
Roquebert had no great wish to speak of you; but his wife, who is a
good Christian, and the little girl, who is fond of you too, said you
were an angel from heaven, and the gentleman replied he would like
to thank you, and make you some recompense. He asked where you
lived; he has never been at our house, but remembered me
perfectly, and said he would come and see us soon. He promised the
child this, and even that he would bring you back, in order to make
him go to sleep."
"In all this," said Caroline, "I see only one thing, and that is, this
stranger is coming to offer me money."
"Well, let him do it; so much the better! It will be an opportunity to
show him you are not what he thinks. You will see one another, you
will converse; he will find you are an educated young lady, above
what he supposes you are, and I will tell him your history, because
this history of yours does you credit."
"No, no," replied Caroline, quickly. "What! shall I intrust my secret to
a stranger, after so many precautions to conceal my name and
position?"
"But since you do not know him?" said Justine. "If you are agreed on
the matter of the child, he should be intrusted with the whole.
Having his secret, we can afford to give him ours. He would have no
inducement to betray it."
"Justine!" cried Mlle de Saint-Geneix, who was near a window that
faced the street. "Listen! Heaven! not another word. There he is,
certainly, this M. Bernyer. He is coming here, and it is—yes, I was
sure—it is he! It is M. de Villemer! O my friends, hide me! Tell him I
am gone, that I am not coming back!—If he sees me, if he speaks to
me,—can't you feel that I am lost?"

XXIV

Justine followed Caroline, who had escaped to her own room, and
made signs to Peyraque that he should receive the Marquis and be
self-possessed.
Peyraque was equal to the emergency. He received M. de Villemer
with the calm dignity of a man who has the most rigid ideas of duty.
It was no longer a question of putting him in communication with
the pretended Charlette; it was necessary to get him away before
any suspicions arose in his mind, or, in case they had already arisen,
to dispel them at once. From the first words of the Marquis,
Peyraque saw that he suspected nothing. Desirous to set out again
in a few days with his son, whom he intended to keep nearer to
himself in future, he had made the most of a fine morning to come
on foot and repay this debt of gratitude to some generous stranger.
He had not supposed the distance so great, and was, therefore, a
little late in arriving. He confessed he was somewhat tired, and, in
point of fact, his face betrayed both weariness and suffering.
Peyraque hastened to offer him food and drink, the duties of
hospitality preceding everything else. He called Justine, who had, by
this time, regained her composure; and they waited upon M. de
Villemer, who, catching at this opportunity of rewarding his
entertainers generously, accepted their services with a good grace.
He learned with regret that Charlette had gone away; but there was
no reason why he should ask many questions about her. He thought
of leaving a present for her, which Justine, in a low tone, advised her
husband to accept, that he might not be surprised at anything.
Caroline would readily find a chance to send it back. Peyraque did
not see the necessity; his pride revolted at the idea of seeming to
accept money on her account.
Caroline, in her little chamber, overheard this strife on a point of
delicacy. The voice of the Marquis sent shudders through her. She
dared not stir. It seemed as if M. de Villemer would recognize her
footfall through the flooring. He, for his part, hoping to find a way of
discharging his obligations under some different form, pretended
and really tried to eat a little; and after this inquired whether he
could hire a horse to return with. The night was dark and the rain
came on again. Peyraque agreed to carry him back and went out to
get his wagon ready; but first, he climbed up softly to Caroline's
room. "This poor gentleman makes me uneasy," said he in a low
voice. "He is very ill, that I am sure of. You can see drops of sweat
on his forehead, and yet he creeps up to the fire like a man with a
fever-chill. He could not swallow two morsels, and when he breathes
hard it seems to affect his heart like a spasm, for he puts his hand
there, smiling bravely all the while, but afterwards carrying it to his
head, as one does in severe pain.
"Heavens!" exclaimed Caroline, in alarm, "when he is ill it is so
dangerous! You must not carry him back to-night; your wagon is not
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