silk； brocaded with gold flowers of an antique design。
〃Are you going to put that on to go to bed with？〃 she asked。
〃Yes。〃
〃Holy Virgin！ what a beautiful altar…cloth it would make for the
parish church！ My dear darling monsieur； give it to the church； and
you'll save your soul； if you don't； you'll lose it。 Oh； how nice you
look in it！ I must call mademoiselle to see you。〃
〃Come； Nanon； if Nanon you are； hold your tongue； let me go to bed。
I'll arrange my things to…morrow。 If my dressing…gown pleases you so
much； you shall save your soul。 I'm too good a Christian not to give
it to you when I go away； and you can do what you like with it。〃
Nanon stood rooted to the ground； gazing at Charles and unable to put
faith into his words。
〃Good night； Nanon。〃
〃What in the world have I come here for？〃 thought Charles as he went
to sleep。 〃My father is not a fool； my journey must have some object。
Pshaw！ put off serious thought till the morrow； as some Greek idiot
said。〃
〃Blessed Virgin！ how charming he is； my cousin！〃 Eugenie was saying；
interrupting her prayers； which that night at least were never
finished。
Madame Grandet had no thoughts at all as she went to bed。 She heard
the miser walking up and down his room through the door of
communication which was in the middle of the partition。 Like all timid
women； she had studied the character of her lord。 Just as the petrel
foresees the storm； she knew by imperceptible signs when an inward
tempest shook her husband； and at such times； to use an expression of
her own； she 〃feigned dead。〃
Grandet gazed at the door lined with sheet…iron which he lately put to
his sanctum； and said to himself；
〃What a crazy idea of my brother to bequeath his son to me！ A fine
legacy！ I have not fifty francs to give him。 What are fifty francs to
a dandy who looked at my barometer as if he meant to make firewood of
it！〃
In thinking over the consequences of that legacy of anguish Grandet
was perhaps more agitated than his brother had been at the moment of
writing it。
〃I shall have that golden robe；〃 thought Nanon； who went to sleep
tricked out in her altar…cloth； dreaming for the first time in her
life of flowers； embroidery； and damask； just as Eugenie was dreaming
of love。
*****
In the pure and monotonous life of young girls there comes a delicious
hour when the sun sheds its rays into their soul； when the flowers
express their thoughts； when the throbbings of the heart send upward
to the brain their fertilizing warmth and melt all thoughts into a
vague desire；day of innocent melancholy and of dulcet joys！ When
babes begin to see； they smile； when a young girl first perceives the
sentiment of nature； she smiles as she smiled when an infant。 If light
is the first love of life； is not love a light to the heart？ The
moment to see within the veil of earthly things had come for Eugenie。
An early riser； like all provincial girls； she was up betimes and said
her prayers； and then began the business of dressing；a business
which henceforth was to have a meaning。 First she brushed and smoothed
her chestnut hair and twisted its heavy masses to the top of her head
with the utmost care； preventing the loose tresses from straying； and
giving to her head a symmetry which heightened the timid candor of her
face； for the simplicity of these accessories accorded well with the
innocent sincerity of its lines。 As she washed her hands again and
again in the cold water which hardened and reddened the skin； she
looked at her handsome round arms and asked herself what her cousin
did to make his hands so softly white； his nails so delicately curved。
She put on new stockings and her prettiest shoes。 She laced her corset
straight； without skipping a single eyelet。 And then； wishing for the
first time in her life to appear to advantage； she felt the joy of
having a new gown； well made； which rendered her attractive。
As she finished her toilet the clock of the parish church struck the
hour； to her astonishment； it was only seven。 The desire of having
plenty of time for dressing carefully had led her to get up too early。
Ignorant of the art of retouching every curl and studying every
effect； Eugenie simply crossed her arms； sat down by the window； and
looked at the court…yard； the narrow garden； and the high terraced
walls that over…topped it： a dismal； hedged…in prospect； yet not
wholly devoid of those mysterious beauties which belong to solitary or
uncultivated nature。 Near the kitchen was a well surrounded by a curb；
with a pulley fastened to a bent iron rod clasped by a vine whose
leaves were withered； reddened； and shrivelled by the season。 From
thence the tortuous shoots straggled to the wall； clutched it； and ran
the whole length of the house； ending near the wood…pile； where the
logs were ranged with as much precision as the books in a library。 The
pavement of the court…yard showed the black stains produced in time by
lichens； herbage； and the absence of all movement or friction。 The
thick walls wore a coating of green moss streaked with waving brown
lines； and the eight stone steps at the bottom of the court…yard which
led up to the gate of the garden were disjointed and hidden beneath
tall plants； like the tomb of a knight buried by his widow in the days
of the Crusades。 Above a foundation of moss…grown； crumbling stones
was a trellis of rotten wood； half fallen from decay； over them
clambered and intertwined at will a mass of clustering creepers。 On
each side of the latticed gate stretched the crooked arms of two
stunted apple…trees。 Three parallel walks； gravelled and separated
from each other by square beds； where the earth was held in by box…
borders； made the garden； which terminated； beneath a terrace of the
old walls； in a group of lindens。 At the farther end were raspberry…
bushes； at the other； near the house； an immense walnut…tree drooped
its branches almost into the window of the miser's sanctum。
A clear day and the beautiful autumnal sun common to the banks of the
Loire was beginning to melt the hoar…frost which the night had laid on
these picturesque objects； on the walls； and on the plants which
swathed the court…yard。 Eugenie found a novel charm in the aspect of
things lately so insignificant to her。 A thousand confused thoughts
came to birth in her mind and grew there； as the sunbeams grew without
along the wall。 She felt that impulse of delight； vague； inexplicable；
which wraps the moral being as a cloud wraps the physical body。 Her
thoughts were all in keeping with the details of this strange
landscape； and the harmonies of her heart blended with the harmonies
of nature。 When the sun reached an angle of the wall where the 〃Venus…
hair〃 of southern climes drooped its thick leaves； lit with the
changing colors of a pigeon's breast； celestial rays of hope illumined
the future to her eyes； and thenceforth she loved to gaze upon that
piece of wall； on its pale flowers； its blue harebells； its wilting
herbage； with which she mingled memories as tender as those of
childhood。 The noise made by each leaf as it fell from its twig in the
void of that echoing court gave answer to the secret questionings of
the young girl； who could have stayed there the livelong day without
perceiving the flight of time。 Then came tumultuous heavings of the
soul。 She rose often； went to her glass； and looked at herself； as an
author in good faith looks at his work to criticise it and blame it in
his own mind。
〃I am not beautiful enough for him！〃 Such was Eugenie's thought；a
humble thought； fertile in suffering。 The poor girl did not do herself
justice； but modesty； or rather fear； is among the first of love's
virtues。 Eugenie belonged to the type of children with sturdy
constitutions； such as we see among the lesser bourgeoisie； whose
beauties always seem a little vulgar； and yet； though she resembled
the Venus of Milo； the lines of her figure were ennobled by the softer
Christian sentiment which purifies womanhood and gives it a
distinction unknown to the sculptors of antiquity。 She had an enormous
head； with the masculine yet delicate forehead of the Jupiter of
Phidias； and gray eyes； to which her chaste life； penetrating fully
into them； carried a flood of light。 The features of her round face；
formerly fresh and rosy； were at one time swollen by the small…pox；
which destroyed the velvet texture of the skin； though it kindly left
no other traces； and her cheek was still so soft and delicate that her
mother's kiss made a momentary red mark upon it。 Her nose was somewhat
too thick； but it harmonized well with the vermilion mouth； whose
lips； creased in many lines； were full of love and kindness。 The
throat was exquisitely round。 The bust； well curved and carefully
covered； attracted the eye and inspired reverie。 It lacked； no doubt；
the grace which a fitting dress can bestow； but to a connoisseur the
non…flexibility of her figure had its own charm。 Eugenie； tall and
strongly made； had none of the prettiness which pleases the masses；
but she was beautiful with a beauty which the spirit recognizes； and
none but artists truly love。 A painter seeking here below for a type
of Mary's celestial purity； searching womankind for those proud modest
eyes which Raphael divined； for those virgin lines； often due to
chances of conception； which the modesty of Christian life alone can
bestow or keep unchanged；such a painter； in love with his ideal；
would have found in the face of Eugenie the innate nobleness that is
ignorant of itself； he would have seen beneath the calmness of that
brow a world of love； he would have felt； in the shape of the eyes； in
the fall of the eyelids； the presence of the nameless something that
we call divine。 Her features； the contour of her head； which no
expression of pleasure had ever altered or wearied； were like the
lines of the horizon softly traced in the far distance across the
tranquil lakes。 That calm and rosy countenance； margined with light
like a lovely full…blown flower； rested the mind； held the eye； and
imparted the charm of the conscience that was there reflected。 Eugenie
was standing on the shore of life where young illusions flower； where
daisies are gathered with deligh