Guy de Maupassant - The Colonel's Nieces

Though the Count was no longer a little child, he was petrified at the sight of his aunt. The girl scrambled hastily from the divan and threw herself at the feet of the old fury.

“Mercy! Oh, have mercy! I did wrong, but he promised to marry me!”

“Infamy! Sacrilege!” cried Athena menacingly. “This child was given into my care by her dying relative, my only friend! And you, my own nephew, under my very roof, dishonored her. Curse you!”

“I beg your mercy! He will make good his promise!”

“Gaston, do you hear this child? What do you have to say?”

“I am at your mercy, and I will do everything you wish to obtain your pardon.”

“There is only one honorable thing you can do. You took away this girl's honor, and you shall have to restore it to her.”

Gaston could have cursed himself. Indeed, Wilhelmina was very charming. But to marry a woman without a fortune and to lose Julia… it was too much! But then, what could he do? There was no way out.

“Dear aunt Athena,” he managed to stammer, “I could not bear so much happiness.”

“Whether you can bear it or not is none of my business,” the charming old lady answered coldly, “but if you do not marry the Lady Soustbacka within fourteen days, I will forbid you to ever set foot in Saski Castle again, I shall cut you out of my heart and my will, and I shall instruct the majordomo to forget about settling those debts you have made in Paris.” She turned around, walked sedately past the portraits of her ancestors, and left the young couple desolate under the statue of Count Stanislas.

And so it was done. Fourteen days later in the brilliantly lit chapel of the castle, the young couple were pronounced man and wife. And Gaston was truly happy, because, instead of marrying a poor girl, it turned out that the famous Soustbacka fortune was still intact, and Wilhelmina was the richest heiress in all of Poland. In the back of his mind Gaston could not help but think that this whole affair had been anticipated by his wily aunt.

And what about Julia?

Yes, what about her.

Since his departure, she had not received a single letter from Gaston and Gaston had never received a single letter from Julia. Mainly, because Julia's letters were collected in one of the desk drawers of Aunt Athena.

Julia's heart was breaking, especially since she found out that the debt with Don Jose had been settled a long time ago. The old General tried to console her as well as he could. However, one morning her mood was a mixture of hopelessness and indignation.

“What's wrong, dear child?” he asked.

“Here, read it yourself,” she said. “I don't have the courage to tell you.”

And the General read a letter from the majordomo, addressed to Miss Julia Thorel, informing her that on behalf of his Lordship the Count Saski, she was hereby given the sum of one hundred thousand francs with his thanks for the many pleasant moments spent in her company during his stay in Paris.

“I am sure that Gaston is unaware of this indignity,” said the General, “but I am afraid that you must expect a complete break in your relationship with him. But this,” and he pointed at the letter, “is not from him. What are you going to do?”

“I'll send it back with a simple note: Sorry wrong address.”

“Splendid! But be sure that you write it to the Count personally so that he will know what has been going on.”

And so it was done.

Countess Athena was quite surprised to receive information from her majordomo that her generosity had met with so little success. She assumed that Julia did not think the sum large enough, and she increased it by another fifty thousand francs. However, the letter was again returned unopened, simply stating, “Sorry, wrong address.”

This time, the old Countess was forced to concede that, although Julia was a foolish girl, she was definitely not a French whore who had latched on to her nephew in the hope of receiving a great fortune.

Since her nephew was now married and could no longer escape, she decided to give him the letters that Julia had written. The argument which followed between aunt and nephew was, to say the least, rather stormy. But, there was nothing that could be done other than writing an affectionate and repentant letter. Julia wrote a curt response: “At least for once in your life you were honest. I wish you happiness, Julia.”

Angered, his pride hurt, Gaston showed the note to his aunt. The old Countess not only felt sorry for the girl she had never met, but also experienced a few twinges of conscience.

Several weeks passed. Julia had sold her home and most of the furniture in the Rue de Gourcelles and moved into the mansion on the Boulevard St. Michel. With the help of Don Jose's lawyer she had ventured into a very advantageous business deal which had made her financially independent.

Suddenly, one morning, she received a note from her aunt Briquart from whom she had not heard ever since she had left, the house.

“I must talk to you. Come immediately,” the Colonel's wife had written.

These few little lines intrigued Julia.

“Now what on earth would she want from me?”

But she would find out soon. Madame Briquart had had two visitors. The Countess Saski had insisted upon an audience with the aunt of the girl who had been ruined by her nephew. She wanted to make amends, but, since Julia was so headstrong, the old lady decided to visit Julia's aunt. She had insisted upon settling two hundred thousand francs in the girl's name, but, since Julia refused to accept, she had given the money to the Colonel's wife in safekeeping. Madame Briquart knew Julia well and decided not to mention anything about Countess Athena's visit. “The girl will find those two hundred thousand francs when I die,” she had thought, “and then it will be too late for the foolish girl to refuse such a windfall.”

The second visitor to Madame Briquart was the reason for the note she had sent to her niece.

Don Jose de Corriero had officially asked her for the hand of Miss Julia Thorel.

“But, General,” the good woman had babbled, slightly bewildered, “I don't know if I have the right.”

“Madame, you must! I know everything. It is the dignified manner with which Miss Julia has weathered the storm, not to mention all the other good qualities of her heart and mind, which have made me decide to offer her the parental support.” He emphasized those words.

“Soon I will no longer be here and my death will insure her a gilded independence. I will have repaid her for the many kindnesses she has bestowed upon my old age, and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I have repaired a grave injustice.”

“In that case, Sir, I can only thank Providence.”

“Before you do that, Madame. I would suggest breaking down any of your niece's scruples. She might not want a marriage of gratefulness.”

“You can rely upon me, General.”

And so it happened that Miss Thorel dropped the phony name of Viscountess Saniska, exchanging it for the legitimate name of Donna Jose de Corriero.

“She must be under the protection of a special angel,” thought Madame Briquart when, after the quiet wedding, the carriage of the newlyweds rolled away.

This then, was the story of the early years of two sisters, the niece's of the Colonel's wife. Their maidenhood, and the loss of it. Their lack of fortune, and the gain of it. We shall follow their life story in a second book.

Two women were sitting in the huge living room of one of those enormous mansions, a half-palace, with which the environs of Paris are so richly endowed. Occasionally they exchanged a few words. They were occupied with needlepoint, that seemingly endless task which was about as exciting and never ending as the many love stories which are spun out in the newspapers of Paris.