IRENE DE CHATEAUDUN.

XIII.

EDGAR DE MEILHAN to the PRINCE DE MONBERT,
Saint Dominique Street, Paris.

RICHEPORT, June 8th 18—.

She is here!  Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!

The same day that you found Irene, I recovered Louise!

In making my tenth pilgrimage from Richeport to Pont de l’Arche, I caught a glimpse from afar of Madame Taverneau’s plump face encased in a superb bonnet embellished with flaming ribbons!  The drifting sea-weed and floating fruit which were the certain indication to Christopher Columbus of the presence of his long-dreamed-of land, did not make his heart bound with greater delight than mine at the sight of Madame Taverneau’s bonnet!  For that bonnet was the sign of Louise’s return.

Oh! how charming thou didst appear to me then, frightful tulle cabbage, with thy flaunting strings like unto an elephant’s ears, and thy enormous bows resembling those pompons with which horses’ heads are decorated!  How much dearer to me wert thou than the diadem of an empress, a vestal’s fillet, the ropes of pearls twined among the jetty locks of Venice’s loveliest patricians, or the richest head-dress of antique or modern art!

Ah, but Madame Taverneau was handsome!  Her complexion, red as a beet, seemed to me fresh as a new-blown rose,—­so the poets always say,—­I could have embraced her resolutely, so happy was I.

The thought that Madame Taverneau might have returned alone flashed through my mind ere I reached the threshold, and I felt myself grow pale, but a glance through the half-open door drove away my terror.  There, bending over her table, was Louise, rolling grains of rice in red sealing-wax in order to fill the interstices between the seals that she had gotten from me, and among which figured marvellously well your crest so richly and curiously emblazoned.

A slender thread of light falling upon the soft contour of her features, carved in cameo their pure and delicate outline.  When she saw me a faint blush brightened her pallor like a drop of crimson in a cup of milk; she was charming, and so distinguished-looking that, putting aside the pencils, the vase of flowers, the colors and the glass of clear water beside her, I should never have dreamt that a simple screen-painter sat before me.

Isn’t it strange, when so many fashionable women in the highest position look like apple-sellers or old-clothes women in full dress, that a girl in the humblest walks of life should have the air of a princess, in spite of her printed cotton gown!