He was really a good man, but he
could not in the least understand why I should weep hot tears for my
poor people whom I was just hoping to benefit. He could not enter
into feeling for Jacques Bonhomme so much as for his horse or his
dog; and I might have argued for years without making him see
anything but childish folly in my wishing for any mode of relief
better than doles of soup, dressing wounds, and dowries for maidens.
However, there was no choice; I was helpless, and resistance would
have done my people no good, but rather harm, and would only have led
to my son being separated from me. Indeed, I cherished a hope that
when the good Queen Anne heard the facts she might understand better
than my half-brother did, and that I might become an example and
public benefactor. My brother must have smiled at me in secret, but
he did not contradict me.
My poor mother and the rest would not have been flattered by my
reluctance to come to Paris; but in truth the thought of them was my
drop of comfort, and if Eustace could not come to me I must have gone
to him. And Cecile--what was to become of Cecile?
To come with me of course. Here at least Solivet agreed with me, for
he had as great a horror of Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau as I had, and
knew, moreover, that she wrote spiteful letters to the Count
d'Aubepine about his poor little wife, which happily were treated
with the young gentleman's usual insouciance.
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