The holidays were over, without there being any material revival of
trade, when my deliverance unexpectedly occurred. It was in February,
and I do believe our mistress had abandoned the expectation of
disposing of us that season, when I heard a gentle voice speaking near
the counter, one day, in tones which struck me as familiar. It was a
female, of course, and her inquiries were about a piece of cambric
handkerchiefs, which she said had been sent to this shop from a
manufactory in Picardie. There was nothing of the customary alertness
in the manner of our mistress, and, to my surprise, she even showed the
customer one or two pieces of much inferior quality, before we were
produced. The moment I got into the light, however, I recognized the
beautifully turned form and sweet face of Adrienne de la Rocheaimard.
The poor girl was paler and thinner than when I had last seen her,
doubtless, I thought, the effects of her late illness; but I could not
conceal from myself the unpleasant fact that she was much less
expensively clad. I say less expensively clad, though the expression is
scarcely just, for I had never seen her in attire that could properly be
called expensive at all; and, yet, the term mean would be equally
inapplicable to her present appearance. It might be better to say that,
relieved by a faultless, even a fastidious neatness and grace, there was
an air of severe, perhaps of pinched economy in her present attire. This
it was that had prevented our mistress from showing her fabrics as fine
as we, on the first demand. Still I thought there was a slight flush on the
cheek of the poor girl, and a faint smile on her features, as she instantly
recognized us for old acquaintances. For one, I own I was delighted at
finding her soft fingers again brushing over my own exquisite surface,
feeling as if one had been expressly designed for the other. Then
Adrienne hesitated; she appeared desirous of speaking, and yet
abashed. Her color went and came, until a deep rosy blush settled on
each cheek, and her tongue found utterance.
"Would it suit you, madame," she asked, as if dreading a repulse, "to
part with one of these?"
"Your pardon, mademoiselle; handkerchiefs of this quality are seldom
sold singly."
"I feared as much--and yet I have occasion for only ONE. It is to be
worked--if it--"
The words came slowly, and they were spoken with difficulty. At that
last uttered, the sound of the sweet girl's voice died entirely away. I fear
it was the dullness of trade, rather than any considerations of
benevolence, that induced our mistress to depart from her rule.
"The price of each handkerchief is five and twenty francs,
mademoiselle--" she had offered the day before to sell us to the wife of
one of the richest agents de change in Paris, at a napoleon a piece--"the
price is five and twenty francs, if you take the dozen, but as you appear
to wish only ONE, rather than not oblige you, it may be had for eight
and twenty."
{agents de change = stockbrokers; napoleon = gold coin worth twenty
francs}
There was a strange mixture of sorrow and delight in the countenance of
Adrienne; but she did not hesitate, and, attracted by the odor of the eau
de cologne, she instantly pointed me out as the handkerchief she
selected. Our mistress passed her scissors between me and my
neighbor of the cote gauche, and then she seemed instantly to regret her
own precipitation. Before making the final separation from the piece,
she delivered herself of her doubts.
"It is worth another franc, mademoiselle," she said, "to cut a
handkerchief from the CENTRE of the piece."
The pain of Adrienne was now too manifest for concealment. That she
ardently desired the handkerchief was beyond dispute, and yet there
existed some evident obstacle to her wishes.
"I fear I have not so much money with me, madame" she said, pale as
death, for all sense of shame was lost in intense apprehension. Still her
trembling hands did their duty, and her purse was produced. A gold
napoleon promised well, but it had no fellow. Seven more francs
appeared in single pieces. Then two ten-sous were produced; after
which nothing remained but copper. The purse was emptied, and the
reticule rummaged, the whole amounting to just twenty-eight francs
seven sous.
{sou = a small coin (5 centimes)--20 sous equal one franc}
"I have no more, madame," said Adrienne, in a faint voice.
The woman, who had been trained in the school of suspicion, looked
intently at the other, for an instant, and then she swept the money into
her drawer, content with having extorted from this poor girl more than
she would have dared to ask of the wife of the agent de change.
Adrienne took me up and glided from the shop, as if she feared her
dear bought prize would yet be torn from her. I confess my own delight
was so great that I did not fully appreciate, at the time, all the hardship
of the case. It was enough to be liberated, to get into the fresh air, to be
about to fulfill my proper destiny. I was tired of that sort of vegetation in
which I neither grew, nor was watered by tears; nor could I see those
stars on which I so much doated, and from which I had learned a
wisdom so profound. The politics, too, were rendering our family
unpleasant; the cote droit was becoming supercilious--it had always
been illogical; while the cote gauche was just beginning to discover that
it had made a revolution for other people. Then it was happiness itself to
be with Adrienne, and when I felt the dear girl pressing me to her heart,
by an act of volition of which pocket-handkerchiefs are little suspected,
I threw up a fold of my gossamer-like texture, as if the air wafted me,
and brushed the first tear of happiness from her eye that she had shed in
months.
{revolution for other people = as he suggests frequently in this story,
Cooper believed that the promise of the July Revolution was betrayed,
and that the new government of King Louis Philippe proved little better
than the old reactionary one of King Charles X; in this he shared the
views of his friend the Marquis de Lafayette, the hero of the American
Revolution, who as head of the French National Guard had been one of
the leaders of the July Revolution in Paris}
The reader may be certain that my imagination was all alive to
conjecture the circumstances which had brought Adrienne de la
Rocheaimard to Paris, and why she had been so assiduous in searching
me out, in particular. Could it be that the grateful girl still intended to
make her offering to the Duchesse de d'Angouleme? Ah! no--that
princess was in exile; while her sister was forming weak plots in behalf
of her son, which a double treachery was about to defeat. I have
already hinted that pocket-handkerchiefs do not receive and
communicate ideas, by means of the organs in use among human beings.
They possess a clairvoyance that is always available under favorable
circumstances. In their case the mesmeritic trance may be said to be
ever in existence, while in the performance of their proper functions. It is
only while crowded into bales, or thrust into drawers for the vulgar
purposes of trade, that this instinct is dormant, a beneficent nature
scorning to exercise her benevolence for any but legitimate objects. I
now mean legitimacy as connected with cause and effect, and nothing
political or dynastic.
{Duchesse d'Angouleme = Marie Therese Charlotte, the Dauphine,
Adrienne's patron; her sister = her sister-in-law Marie Caroline,
Duchesse de Berry, who led an unsuccessful revolt against the new
regime}
By virtue of this power, I had not long been held in the soft hand of
Adrienne, or pressed against her beating heart, without becoming the
master of all her thoughts, as well as her various causes of hope and
fear. This knowledge did not burst upon me at once, it is true, as is
pretended to be the case with certain somnambules, for with me there is
no empiricism--every thing proceeds from cause to effect, and a little
time, with some progressive steps, was necessary to make me fully
acquainted with the whole. The simplest things became the first
apparent, and others followed by a species of magnetic induction, which
I cannot now stop to explain. When this tale is told, I propose to lecture
on the subject, to which all the editors in the country will receive the
usual free tickets, when the world cannot fail of knowing quite as much,
at least, as these meritorious public servants.
{somnambules = sleep walkers; editors = Cooper had very little respect
for the press}
The first fact that I learned, was the very important one that the
vicomtesse had lost all her usual means of support by the late revolution,
and the consequent exile of the dauphine. This blow, so terrible to the
grandmother and her dependent child, had occurred, too, most
inopportunely, as to time. A half year's pension was nearly due at the
moment the great change occurred, and the day of payment arrived and
passed, leaving these two females literally without twenty francs. Had it
not been for the remains of the trousseau, both must have begged, or
perished of want. The crisis called for decision, and fortunately the old
lady, who had already witnessed so many vicissitudes, had still sufficient
energy to direct their proceedings. Paris was the best place in which to
dispose of her effects, and thither she and Adrienne came, without a
moment's delay. The shops were first tried, but the shops, in the autumn
of 1830, offered indifferent resources for the seller. Valuable effects
were there daily sold for a twentieth part of their original cost, and the
vicomtesse saw her little stores diminish daily; for the Mont de Piete
was obliged to regulate its own proceedings by the received current
values of the day. Old age, vexation, and this last most cruel blow, did
not fail of effecting that which might have been foreseen. The vicomtesse
sunk under this accumulation of misfortunes, and became bed-ridden,
helpless, and querulous. Every thing now devolved on the timid, gentle,
unpracticed Adrienne. All females of her condition, in countries
advanced in civilization like France, look to the resource of imparting a
portion of what they themselves have acquired, to others of their own
sex, in moments of urgent necessity. The possibility of Adrienne's being
compelled to become a governess, or a companion, had long been kept
in view, but the situation of Mad. de la Rocheaimard forbade any
attempt of the sort, for the moment, had the state of the country
rendered it at all probable that a situation could have been procured.
On this fearful exigency, Adrienne had aroused all her energies, and
gone deliberately into the consideration of her circumstances.
{Mont de Piete = traditional term for a municipal pawn shop operated
to help the poor}
Poverty had compelled Mad. de la Rocheaimard to seek the cheapest
respectable lodgings she could find on reaching town. In anticipation of
a long residence, and, for the consideration of a considerable abatement
in price, she had fortunately paid six months' rent in advance; thus
removing from Adrienne the apprehension of having no place in which
to cover her head, for some time to come. These lodgings were in an
entresol of the Place Royale, a perfectly reputable and private part of
the town, and in many respects were highly eligible. Many of the menial
offices, too, were to be performed by the wife of the porter, according
to the bargain, leaving to poor Adrienne, however, all the care of her
grandmother, whose room she seldom quitted, the duties of nurse and
cook, and the still more important task of finding the means of
subsistence.
{entresol = mezzanine, low-ceilinged area between between the first
and second floors}
For quite a month the poor desolate girl contrived to provide for her
grandmother's necessities, by disposing of the different articles of the
trousseau. This store was now nearly exhausted, and she had found a
milliner who gave her a miserable pittance for toiling with her needle
eight or ten hours each day. Adrienne had not lost a moment, but had
begun this system of ill-requited industry long before her money was
exhausted. She foresaw that her grandmother must die, and the great
object of her present existence was to provide for the few remaining
wants of this only relative during the brief time she had yet to live, and to
give her decent and Christian burial. Of her own future lot, the poor girl
thought as little as possible, though fearful glimpses would obtrude
themselves on her uneasy imagination. At first she had employed a
physician; but her means could not pay for his visits, nor did the
situation of her grandmother render them very necessary. He promised
to call occasionally without fee, and, for a short time, he kept his word,
but his benevolence soon wearied of performing offices that really were
not required. By the end of a month, Adrienne saw him no more.
As long as her daily toil seemed to supply her own little wants, Adrienne
was content to watch on, weep on, pray on, in waiting for the moment
she so much dreaded; that which was to sever the last tie she appeared
to possess on earth. It is true she had a few very distant relatives, but
they had emigrated to America, at the commencement of the revolution
of 1789, and all trace of them had long been lost. In point of fact, the
men were dead, and the females were grandmothers with English
names, and were almost ignorant of any such persons as the de la
Rocheaimards. From these Adrienne had nothing to expect. To her,
they were as beings in another planet. But the trousseau was nearly
exhausted, and the stock of ready money was reduced to a single
napoleon, and a little change. It was absolutely necessary to decide on
some new scheme for a temporary subsistence, and that without delay.
Among the valuables of the trousseau was a piece of exquisite lace, that
had never been even worn. The vicomtesse had a pride in looking at it,
for it showed the traces of her former wealth and magnificence, and she
would never consent to part with it. Adrienne had carried it once to her
employer, the milliner, with the intention of disposing of it, but the price
offered was so greatly below what she knew to be the true value, that
she would not sell it. Her own wardrobe, however, was going fast,
nothing disposable remained of her grandmother's, and this piece of lace
must be turned to account in some way. While reflecting on these dire
necessities, Adrienne remembered our family. She knew to what shop
we had been sent in Paris, and she now determined to purchase one of
us, to bestow on the handkerchief selected some of her own beautiful
needle work, to trim it with this lace, and, by the sale, to raise a sum
sufficient for all her grandmother's earthly wants.
Generous souls are usually ardent. Their hopes keep pace with their
wishes, and, as Adrienne had heard that twenty napoleons were
sometimes paid by the wealthy for a single pocket-handkerchief, when
thus decorated, she saw a little treasure in reserve, before her mind's
eye.
"I can do the work in two months," she said to herself, "by taking the
time I have used for exercise, and by severe economy; by eating less
myself, and working harder, we can make out to live that time on what
we have."
This was the secret of my purchase, and the true reason why this lovely
girl had literally expended her last sou in making it. The cost had
materially exceeded her expectations, and she could not return home
without disposing of some article she had in her reticule, to supply the
vacuum left in her purse. There would be nothing ready for the milliner,
under two or three days, and there was little in the lodgings to meet the
necessities of her grandmother. Adrienne had taken her way along the
quays, delighted with her acquisition, and was far from the Mont de
Piete before this indispensable duty occurred to her mind. She then
began to look about her for a shop in which she might dispose of
something for the moment. Luckily she was the mistress of a gold
thimble, that had been presented to her by her grandmother, as her very
last birth-day present. It was painful for her to part with it, but, as it was
to supply the wants of that very parent, the sacrifice cost her less than
might otherwise have been the case. Its price had been a napoleon, and
a napoleon, just then, was a mint of money in her eyes. Besides, she
had a silver thimble at home, and a brass one would do for her work.
Adrienne's necessities had made her acquainted with several jewellers'
shops. To one of these she now proceeded, and, first observing through
the window that no person was in but one of her own sex, the
silversmith's wife, she entered with the greater confidence and alacrity.
"Madame," she said, in timid tones, for want had not yet made Adrienne
bold or coarse, "I have a thimble to dispose of--could you be induced
to buy it?"
The woman took the thimble and examined it, weighed it, and submitted
its metal to the test of the touchstone. It was a pretty thimble, though
small, or it would not have fitted Adrienne's finger. This fact struck the
woman of the shop, and she cast a suspicious glance at Adrienne's
hand, the whiteness and size of which, however, satisfied her that the
thimble had not been stolen.
{touchstone = a variety of black stone used to test the purity of gold, by
the streak it leaves when rubbed on the stone}
"What do you expect to receive for this thimble, mademoiselle?" asked
the woman, coldly.
"It cost a napoleon, madame, and was made expressly for myself."
"You do not expect to sell it at what it cost?" was the dry answer.
"Perhaps not, madame--I suppose you will look for a profit in selling it
again. I wish you to name the price."
This was said because the delicate ever shrink from affixing a value to
the time and services of others. Adrienne was afraid she might
unintentionally deprive the other of a portion of her just gains. The
woman understood by the timidity and undecided manner of the
applicant, that she had a very unpracticed being to deal with, and she
was emboldened to act accordingly. First taking another look at the
pretty little hand and fingers, to make certain the thimble might not be
reclaimed, when satisfied that it really belonged to her who wished to
dispose of it, she ventured to answer.
"In such times as we had before these vile republicans drove all the
strangers from Paris, and when our commerce was good," she said, "I
might have offered seven francs and a half for that thimble; but, as things
are now, the last sou I can think of giving is five francs."
"The gold is very good, madame," Adrienne observed, in a voice half-
choked, "they told my grandmother the metal alone was worth thirteen."
"Perhaps, mademoiselle, they might give that much at the mint, for there
they coin money; but, in this shop, no one will give more than five francs
for that thimble."
Had Adrienne been longer in communion with a cold and heartless
world, she would not have submitted to this piece of selfish extortion;
but, inexperienced, and half frightened by the woman's manner, she
begged the pittance offered as a boon, dropped her thimble, and made
a hasty retreat. When the poor girl reached the street, she began to
reflect on what she had done. Five francs would scarcely support her
grandmother a week, with even the wood and wine she had on hand,
and she had no more gold thimbles to sacrifice. A heavy sigh broke
from her bosom, and tears stood in her eyes. But she was wanted at
home, and had not the leisure to reflect on her own mistake.