June 20, 1841.—M. Gerbeau has dined here again. What a singular story he tells me. We talked of my grandmother and Madame Carpentier, and what does M. Gerbeau tell me but that Alix had not finished her history when my grandmother and my aunt returned, and that he had promised to get it to them. “And I kept it two years for want of an opportunity,” he added. How mad Grandmamma must have been! How the delay must have made her suffer!
Well and good! Then Alix did write her story! But if she wrote for both her “dear and good friends,” Suzanne and Francoise, then Francoise, the younger and milder sister, would the more likely have to be content, sooner or later, with a copy. This, I find no reason to doubt, is what lies before me. Indeed, here (crossed out in the manuscript, but by me restored and italicized) are signs of a copyist’s pen: “Mais helas! il desesperoit de reussir quand’ il desespe rencontra,” etc. Is not that a copyist’s repetition? Or this:”—et lui, mon mari apres tout se fit mon marim domestique.” And here the copyist misread the original: “Lorsque le maire entendit les noms et les personnes prenoms de la mariee,” etc. In the manuscript personnes is crossed out, and the correct word, prenoms, is written above it.
Whoever made this copy it remains still so simple and compact that he or she cannot be charged with many embellishments. And yet it is easy to believe that some one, with that looseness of family tradition and largeness of ancestral pride so common among the Creoles, in half-knowledge and half-ignorance should have ventured aside for an instant to attribute in pure parenthesis to an ancestral De la Houssaye the premature honor of a San Domingan war; or, incited by some tradition of the old Prime Minister’s intimate friendship with Madelaine’s family, should have imputed a gracious attention to the wrong Count de Maurepas, or to the wrong count altogether.