Jack by Daudet Alphonse

Author:Daudet, Alphonse [Daudet, Alphonse]
Language: fra
Format: epub
Tags: Classics
ISBN: 9781409904991
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 13385359
Publisher: Dodo Press
Published: 1877-11-24T07:00:00+00:00

Jack was so happy at hearing her name mentioned that he would have lingered there at the corner of the street for an hour, but Bιlisaire said he was in haste, that he had a letter to deliver, and must go.

When Jack entered the house, Madame Rondic met him at the door. She was very pale, and said, in a low voice, with trembling lips,—

“What did you want of that man?”

The child answered that he had known him at Etiolles, and that they had been talking of his parents.

She uttered a sigh of relief. But that whole evening she was even quieter than usual, and her head seemed bowed by more than the weight of her blonde braids.

CHAPTER XIV.~~A MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW.

“Chateau des Aulnettes.

“I am not pleased with you, my child. M. Rondic has written to his brother a long letter, in which he says, that in the year that you have been at Indret you have made no progress. He speaks kindly of you, nevertheless, but does not seem to think you adapted for your present life. We are all grieved to hear this, and feel that you are not doing all that you might do. M. Rondic also says that the air of the workshops is not good for you, that you are pale and thin, and that at the least exertion the perspiration rolls down your face. I cannot understand this, and fear that you are imprudent, that you go out in the evening uncovered, that you sleep with your windows open, and that you forget to tie your scarf around your throat. This must not be; your health is of the first importance.

“I admit that your present occupation is not as pleasant as running wild in the forest would be, but remember what M. D’Argenton told you, that ‘life is not a romance.’ He knows this very well, poor man!—better, too, to-day, than ever before. You have no conception of the annoyances to which this great poet is exposed. The low conspiracies that have been formed against him are almost incredible. They are about to bring out a play at the Thιβtre Franηais called ‘La Fille de Faust’ It is not D’Argenton’s play, because his is not written, but it is his idea, and his title! We do not know whom to suspect, for he is surrounded with faithful friends. Whoever the guilty party may be, our friend has been most painfully affected, and has been seriously ill. Dr. Hirsch fortunately was here, for Dr. Rivals still continues to sulk. That reminds me to tell you that we hear that you keep up your correspondence with the doctor, of which M. d’Argenton entirely disapproves. It is not wise, my child, to keep up any association with people above your station; it only leads to all sorts of chimerical aspirations. Your friendship for little Cιcile M. d’Argenton regards also as a waste of time. You must, therefore, relinquish it, as we think that you would then enter with more interest into your present life.

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