"De Balzac, Honore - Modeste Mignon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Balzac Honore De)

Gobenheim, came to call and play whist with Dumay nearly every
evening. The conversation turned on the gossip of Havre and the petty
events of provincial life. The little company separated between nine
and ten o'clock. Modeste put her mother to bed, and together they said
their prayers, kept up each other's courage, and talked of the dear
absent one, the husband and father. After kissing her mother for good-
night, the girl went to her own room about ten o'clock. The next
morning she prepared her mother for the day with the same care, the
same prayers, the same prattle. To her praise be it said that from the
day when the terrible infirmity deprived her mother of a sense,
Modeste had been like a servant to her, displaying at all times the
same solicitude; never wearying of the duty, never thinking it
monotonous. Such constant devotion, combined with a tenderness rare
among young girls, was thoroughly appreciated by those who witnessed
it. To the Latournelle family, and to Monsieur and Madame Dumay,
Modeste was, in soul, the pearl of price.

On sunny days, between breakfast and dinner, Madame Mignon and Madame
Dumay took a little walk toward the sea. Modeste accompanied them, for
two arms were needed to support the blind mother. About a month before
the scene to which this explanation is a parenthesis, Madame Mignon
had taken counsel with her friends, Madame Latournelle, the notary,
and Dumay, while Madame Dumay carried Modeste in another direction for
a longer walk.

"Listen to what I have to say," said the blind woman. "My daughter is
in love. I feel it; I see it. A singular change has taken place within
her, and I do not see how it is that none of you have perceived it."

"In the name of all that's honorable--" cried the lieutenant.

"Don't interrupt me, Dumay. For the last two months Modeste has taken
as much care of her personal appearance as if she expected to meet a
lover. She has grown extremely fastidious about her shoes; she wants
to set off her pretty feet; she scolds Madame Gobet, the shoemaker. It
is the same thing with her milliner. Some days my poor darling is
absorbed in thought, evidently expectant, as if waiting for some one.
Her voice has curt tones when she answers a question, as though she
were interrupted in the current of her thoughts and secret
expectations. Then, if this awaited lover has come--"

"Good heavens!"

"Sit down, Dumay," said the blind woman. "Well, then Modeste is gay.
Oh! she is not gay to your sight; you cannot catch these gradations;
they are too delicate for eyes that see only the outside of nature.
Her gaiety is betrayed to me by the tones of her voice, by certain
accents which I alone can catch and understand. Modeste then, instead
of sitting still and thoughtful, gives vent to a wild, inward activity
by impulsive movements,--in short, she is happy. There is a grace, a