Mlle.Moiseney, the duties of whose office consisted in serving as chaperon to Mlle.Moriaz, was not a great genius.This worthy and excellent personage had, in fact, rather a circumscribed mind, and she had not the least suspicion of it.Her physiognomy was not pleasing to M.Moriaz; he had several times besought his daughter to part with her.In the goodness of her soul Antoinette always refused; she was not one who could countenance rebuffs to old domestics, old dogs, old horses, or worn-out governesses.Young Candide arrived at the conclusion, as the result of his observations, that the first degree of happiness would be to be Mlle.Gunegonde, and the second to contemplate her throughout life.Mlle.Moiseney believed that it would be the first degree of superhuman felicity to be Mlle.Moriaz, the second to pass one's life near this queen, who, arbitrary and capricious though she might be, was most thoughtful of the happiness of her subjects, and to be able to say: "It was I that hatched the egg whence arose this phoenix; I did something for this marvel; I taught her English and music." She had boundless admiration for her queen, amounting actually to idolatry.The English profess that their sovereigns can do nothing amiss: "The king can do no wrong." Mlle.
Moiseney was convinced that Mlle.Moriaz could neither do wrong nor make mistakes about anything.She saw everything with her eyes, espoused her likes and her dislikes, her sentiments, her opinions, her rights, and her wrongs; she lived, as it were, a reflected existence.
Every morning she said to her idol, "How beautiful we are to-day!"precisely as the bell-ringer who, puffing out his cheeks, cried: "We are in voice; we have chanted vespers well to-day!" M.Moriaz excused her for finding his daughter charming, but could not so readily approve of her upholding Antoinette's ideas, her decisions, her prejudices."This woman is no chaperon," said he; "she is an admiration-point!" He would have been very glad to have routed her from the field, and to give her place to a person of good sound sense and judgment, one who might gain some influence over Antoinette.It would have greatly surprised Mlle.Moiseney had he represented to her that she lacked good sense.This good creature flattered herself that she had an inexhaustible stock of this commodity; she placed the highest estimate on her own judgment; she believed herself to be well-nigh infallible.She discoursed in the tone of an oracle on future contingencies; she prided herself on being able to divine all things, to foresee all things, to predict all things--in a word, to be in the secret of the gods.As her Christian name was Joan, M.Moriaz, who set little store by his calendar, sometimes called her Pope Joan, which wounded her deeply.
Mlle.Moiseney had two weaknesses; she was a gormand, and she admired handsome men.Let us understand the case: she knew perfectly well that they were not created for her; that she had no attractions to offer them; that they had nothing to give her.She admired them naively and innocently, as a child might admire a beautiful Epinal engraving; she would willingly have cut out their likenesses to hang on a nail on her wall, and contemplate while rereading "Gonzalve de Cordue" and "Le Dernier des Cavaliers," her two favourite romances.At Bergun, during the repast, her brain had been working, and she had made two reflections.The first was, that the trout of Albula were incomparable, the second that the stranger seated opposite her had a remarkably handsome head, and was altogether a fine-looking man.
Several times, with fork halfway to mouth, and nose in the air, she had forgotten herself in her scrutiny of him.
Antoinette, rather weary, had retired early to her chamber.Mlle.
Moiseney repaired thither to see if she needed anything, and, as she was about leaving her for the night, candle in hand, she suddenly inquired, "Do not you think, as I do, that this stranger is a remarkable-looking person?""Of whom do you speak?" rejoined Antoinette.
"Why, of the traveller who sat opposite me.""I confess that I scarcely looked at him.""Indeed! He has superb eyes, nearly green, with fawn-coloured tinting.""Most astonishing! And his hair, is it green also?""Chestnut brown, almost hazel."
"Pray be more exact; is it hazel or not?""You need not laugh at me--his whole appearance is striking, his figure singular, but full of character, full of expression, and as handsome as singular.""What enthusiasm! It seemed to me, so far as I noticed, that he was inclined to stoop, and that his head was very badly poised.""What do you say?" cried Mlle.Moiseney, greatly scandalized."How came you to think his head badly poised?""There--there! Don't let us quarrel about it; I am ready to retract.
Good-night, mademoiselle.Apropos, did you know that M.Camille Langis had returned to Paris?""I did not know it, but I am not surprised.I had surmised it; in fact, I was quite sure that he would be back about this time, perfectly sure.And, of course, you think he has returned with the intention--""I think," interrupted Antoinette, "that it costs me more to pain M.
Langis than any other man in the world.I think, also, that he possesses most tiresome fidelity; it is always the way, one never loses one's dog when one wants to lose him; and I think, moreover, that a woman makes a poor bargain when she marries a man for whom she feels friendship; for, if she gains a husband, she is very sure to lose a friend.""How true your words are!" exclaimed Mlle.Moiseney."But you are always right.Has M.Langis forgotten that you thought him too young--only twenty-three?"
"He has so little forgotten it that he has managed, I don't know how, to be at present twenty-five.How resist such a mark of affection? Ishall be compelled to marry him."
"That will never do.People do not marry for charity," replied Mlle.
Moiseney, deprecatingly.
