Madame Cheron’s house stood a short distance outside the city of Thoulouse. It was surrounded by large gardens, and Emily, who had risen early, walked there alone before breakfast.
From a terrace at the highest point of the garden, she could see a wide view of the countryside of Languedoc. Far away to the south, the wild peaks of the Pyrenees appeared on the horizon.
The sight immediately awakened memories of home.
Her thoughts turned to La Vallée, to the peaceful scenes where her father, St. Aubert, had lived, and to the place where Valancourt remained.
Although she could not actually see Gascony, her imagination filled in the distance. She pictured the green fields, the familiar landscapes, and the beloved places that had once surrounded her.
For a long time, she stood by the window of the garden pavilion, lost in these memories, until a servant came to tell her that breakfast was ready.
When she returned through the garden, the straight paths, carefully arranged flower beds, and artificial fountains seemed dull compared with the natural beauty of La Vallée that filled her thoughts.
As Emily entered the breakfast room, Madame Cheron looked up.
“Where have you been wandering so early?” her aunt asked.
“I was only walking in the gardens,” Emily replied.
“I do not approve of these lonely walks,” Madame Cheron said coldly.
Emily was surprised that even the garden was included in her aunt’s criticism.
“You must not walk there alone at such an early hour again,” Madame Cheron continued. “My gardens are large, and a young woman who could arrange secret meetings by moonlight at La Vallée cannot always be trusted to follow her own wishes elsewhere.”
Emily was shocked.
She could hardly understand the meaning of such words.
“Madam, I do not understand what you mean,” she said.
Madame Cheron refused to explain.
Her harsh expression and unfinished remarks suggested that she believed Emily had been guilty of some improper behavior.
Though Emily knew she was innocent, she still blushed under her aunt’s accusing gaze.
She trembled, confused and hurt.
Madame Cheron also showed a trace of color on her face, but hers was the satisfaction of someone who believed she had discovered another person’s secret weakness.
Emily guessed that her aunt’s suspicion came from seeing her walk in the garden on the night before she left La Vallée.
She explained that she had only been there because she had seen someone she believed was Valancourt.
Madame Cheron smiled with disbelief.
She refused to accept the explanation but would not reveal her reasons.
At last, she said:
“I never trust people’s words. I judge them by their actions. We shall see how you behave in the future.”
Emily was more troubled by the accusation than by her aunt’s strange silence.
After thinking carefully, she became almost certain that Madame Cheron had seen Valancourt in the gardens that night and had misunderstood the situation.
Her aunt then changed the subject and began speaking about Emily’s property, which was now controlled by M. Motteville.
While pretending to pity Emily’s misfortunes, Madame Cheron constantly reminded her niece that she depended upon her generosity.
Emily soon realized that she was not only under her aunt’s authority but also expected to endure the attitude of her aunt’s servants.
Later, Madame Cheron informed her that many guests would come for dinner.
She repeated her warnings about proper behavior in society.
Emily silently wished she could have enough courage to follow such advice.
Her aunt then criticized the simplicity of her clothing.
“You must learn to dress with more elegance and style,” she said.
Afterward, she proudly showed Emily the grand rooms of the château, explaining the beauty and decoration of each apartment.
When Madame Cheron finally went to prepare herself at her dressing table, Emily returned to her room and unpacked her books, hoping reading would bring peace to her mind.
When the guests arrived, Emily entered the salon with a shy and uncertain manner that she could not overcome.
Madame Cheron’s watchful eyes made her even more uncomfortable.
Her mourning clothes, gentle sadness, and quiet behavior made her attractive to many people.
Among the guests, she noticed Signor Montoni and Cavigni, whom she had previously met at M. Quesnel’s house.
They spoke with Madame Cheron as if they had known her for years, and she seemed especially pleased by their attention.
Montoni possessed a powerful presence.
He carried himself with confidence and seemed to believe strongly in his own abilities.
His intelligence showed clearly in his expression, yet he could easily hide his true thoughts when necessary.
Although many considered him handsome, Emily felt admiration mixed with uneasiness.
She could not explain why, but something about him made her feel cautious.
Cavigni was cheerful and charming as before.
Although he spent much of his time flattering Madame Cheron, he also found opportunities to speak with Emily.
At first, he amused her with clever remarks.
Sometimes, however, he spoke with a tenderness that made Emily uncomfortable.
She was relieved when a lively young lady joined their conversation and attracted Cavigni’s attention.
The young woman was full of French charm and confidence.
She spoke as if she understood everything, although she had little knowledge beyond her own opinions.
She attracted attention, amused some people, annoyed others, and was soon forgotten.
The day passed without any important event.
Emily enjoyed observing the different personalities around her, but she was happiest when she could return to her private thoughts.
Two weeks passed in a constant round of visits and social gatherings.
Emily sometimes enjoyed these occasions, but more often she found them tiring.
She was impressed by the intelligence and conversation of many people, but gradually discovered that much of their apparent knowledge was only a performance.
What surprised her most was their endless happiness and cheerful behavior.
At first, she believed such happiness came from kindness and genuine contentment.
Later, she realized that much of society’s excitement came from vanity, ambition, and the desire to appear successful.
Emily’s happiest moments were spent alone in the pavilion overlooking the terrace.
There she could read, play her lute, and think of Valancourt and the distant scenes of Gascony.
One evening, she excused herself from accompanying her aunt and went to the pavilion.
The evening was warm and beautiful.
The setting sun shone through the western windows, lighting the distant Pyrenees and painting their snowy peaks with a soft rose color.
Emily played her lute with deep feeling.
The quiet evening, the fading sunlight, and the distant river flowing toward La Vallée filled her heart with memories of Valancourt.
She had heard nothing from him since arriving in Thoulouse.
Now that distance separated them, she realized even more strongly how important he was to her.
Before meeting Valancourt, she had never known anyone whose thoughts and feelings matched her own so perfectly.
Madame Cheron had warned her that perhaps Valancourt had only pretended to possess the qualities she admired.
But Emily could hardly believe such a thing.
Still, the possibility troubled her.
Nothing was more painful than uncertainty about the character of someone she loved.
While she sat thinking, she suddenly heard the sound of horses on the road below.
A gentleman passed by on horseback.
Although the fading light prevented her from seeing his face, his figure and manner reminded her strongly of Valancourt.
She quickly stepped away from the window, afraid he might see her.
Yet she secretly wished to observe him longer.
When she looked again, she saw only his shadow moving beneath the trees toward Thoulouse.
The small incident disturbed her so much that the pavilion no longer brought comfort.
She walked briefly along the terrace and returned to the château.
When Madame Cheron came home that night, she was unusually irritated.
Emily wondered whether her aunt had lost money, seen someone receive more attention than herself, or witnessed an entertainment more impressive than her own.
At last, Emily was able to retire to her room.
The next morning, Madame Cheron summoned her.
Her aunt’s face showed anger.
She held out a letter.
“Do you know this handwriting?” she asked.
Emily examined it carefully.
“No, madam. I do not.”
“Do not insult me by pretending,” Madame Cheron said. “You know it. Admit the truth.”
Emily remained silent and turned away.
Her aunt called her back.
“So you are guilty? Then you must know the handwriting.”
“If you already believed that, madam,” Emily replied calmly, “why did you ask me whether I was telling the truth?”
Madame Cheron did not answer.
Then Emily heard the name Valancourt.
A moment later, she blushed—not from guilt, but because she understood who had written the letter.
“It is useless to deny it,” Madame Cheron said. “I can see from your expression that you know this letter. I suppose you have received many such letters from this young man without my knowledge.”
Emily was deeply hurt by the accusation.
She immediately tried to defend herself.
She reminded her aunt that she had only allowed Valancourt to speak to her family and had never encouraged secret communication.
Madame Cheron interrupted.
“I will not be questioned in my own house.”
She continued angrily:
“This young man, whom you call M. de Valancourt, has dared to ask permission to visit me. I shall answer him properly. But remember, Emily—if you refuse to follow my wishes, I will no longer supervise your education. I shall send you to a convent.”
“Dear madam,” Emily cried, tears filling her eyes, “how have I deserved such accusations?”
She was overwhelmed.
For the first time, she began doubting her own judgment.
She feared that perhaps she had been too trusting toward Valancourt, even though she knew she had done nothing wrong.
She promised to obey her aunt’s wishes.
Madame Cheron looked at her suspiciously.
“Then promise me you will neither see this young man nor write to him without my permission.”
“Madam,” Emily replied, “how could you believe I would ever do such a thing secretly?”
“One never knows what young women may do,” her aunt answered. “They rarely understand the importance of public respect.”
“My father taught me that I must first respect myself,” Emily said. “He believed that if I deserved my own esteem, the respect of others would follow.”
“My brother was a good man,” Madame Cheron replied, “but he did not understand the world.”
Emily gave the promise her aunt demanded.
After leaving the room, she walked in the garden until she reached her beloved pavilion.
There, in the quiet surroundings, she carefully reviewed every conversation she had ever had with Valancourt.
She found nothing that could shame her.
Her confidence returned.
She saw Valancourt again as she had always seen him—kind, intelligent, and sincere.
She saw Madame Cheron differently.
Her aunt seemed neither wise nor generous.
Yet the thought of losing Valancourt still caused her pain.
She decided that she would never secretly correspond with him, and if they met again, she would continue to behave with the same modesty and dignity as before.
Then she whispered:
“If we ever meet again…”
The thought suddenly seemed painful.
Tears filled her eyes.
At that moment, she heard footsteps approaching.
The pavilion door opened.
Emily turned.
Valancourt stood before her.
A wave of joy, surprise, and fear overwhelmed her.
Her face turned pale, then flushed again.
For a moment, she could not speak.
Valancourt’s expression reflected her own emotions.
But when he saw her confusion, his happiness faded.
He approached and asked gently about her health.
Emily recovered herself and answered politely.
After a short and awkward conversation, they walked into the garden.
“Have you seen Madame Cheron?” Emily asked.
“No,” Valancourt replied. “They told me she was occupied. When I heard that you were here, I came immediately.”
He hesitated.
“May I tell you why I have come? Will you be angry if I say that I wished to use the permission you once gave me—to address your family?”
Emily did not know how to answer.
Then she looked up and saw Madame Cheron entering the garden.
Her fear returned.
But knowing she had done nothing wrong, she remained calm.
Instead of hiding, she walked toward her aunt with Valancourt.
Madame Cheron’s expression showed immediate displeasure.
Emily understood that her aunt believed the meeting had been planned.
After Valancourt’s name was introduced, Emily became too nervous to remain.
She returned to the château and waited anxiously.
Later, Madame Cheron returned.
“I have dismissed this young man,” she said. “I hope my house will not be troubled by such visits again. He assures me that your meeting was accidental.”
“Did you ask him that?” Emily cried.
“Of course I did.”
Emily was horrified.
“What must he think of me, that you could even suspect such behavior?”
“That is not important,” Madame Cheron replied. “I have protected my house from secret arrangements.”
Emily could hardly understand her aunt’s idea of honor.
Madame Cheron continued:
“He admitted that his fortune is small and that he depends mainly on his elder brother and his chosen profession. Did he think I would allow my niece to marry someone like that?”
Emily felt sorrow at hearing this.
Yet Valancourt’s honesty made her admire him even more.
She realized that sincerity and noble character were not always enough to overcome selfishness and pride.
Madame Cheron continued proudly:
“He even said he would accept rejection only from you. I refused. He must understand that my opinion is enough.”
“How little you know me, madam,” Emily said quietly, “if you think I would ever arrange secret meetings.”
Soon afterward, Madame Cheron left to prepare for an evening visit.
Emily returned to her room.
There, the strength that had supported her before disappeared.
She thought only of Valancourt, whose goodness seemed clearer with every new discovery.
She spent the time crying instead of dressing.
When she joined Madame Cheron later, her aunt immediately noticed her tearful eyes and criticized her.
At the evening gathering, however, Emily managed to appear composed.
The party was held at the house of Madame Clairval, a wealthy widow who had recently moved to Thoulouse.
Her entertainments were famous throughout the area.
Madame Cheron admired her greatly and wished to become one of her closest friends.
The evening was a grand fancy ball held in the gardens.
The trees were decorated with countless lamps.
Guests in beautiful costumes gathered beneath the branches.
Music filled the air.
The dances, elegant clothing, laughter, and romantic garden setting created a scene of great beauty.
Emily watched with quiet sadness.
Then she saw Valancourt.
He was dancing with a young and beautiful woman.
Emily was shocked by the ease and familiarity of his manner toward her.
She quickly turned away.
A sudden weakness overcame her, and she sat beneath the trees.
Someone nearby noticed her pale face and offered to bring water.
She thanked him but refused.
She feared Valancourt would notice her distress.
Gradually she recovered.
The gentleman who had helped her, Count Bauvillers, spoke with her about the scene.
She barely listened because her thoughts remained fixed on Valancourt.
When the Count mentioned the woman dancing with him, Emily struggled to hide her interest.
“The lady dancing with that young Chevalier,” the Count said, “is one of the beauties of Thoulouse. She is wealthy as well as attractive.”
Emily’s heart tightened.
But the Count continued:
“I hope she chooses a better partner for life than she has chosen for the dance. That young man seems talented in everything except dancing.”
Emily learned that Valancourt was not making a perfect impression on everyone.
Soon afterward, Valancourt looked toward her.
Their eyes met.
Emily immediately turned away.
She could not bear to show how deeply she was affected.
Later, Cavigni and Madame Cheron discussed Valancourt.
Cavigni joked that any man who admired Emily could hardly be called foolish.
Madame Cheron misunderstood his meaning and enjoyed the compliment.
The conversation revealed something that surprised Emily.
She began to suspect that Montoni might be seriously interested in Madame Cheron.
The idea seemed strange to her.
Yet she noticed that her aunt appeared eager for his attention.
Before long, Montoni joined the group.
Madame Cheron greeted him with exaggerated displeasure because he had kept her waiting.
The evening ended with supper.
Emily was distressed when she discovered that Valancourt was seated at the same table.
Madame Cheron, still offended by him, asked loudly:
“Who is that young man?”
“It is the Chevalier Valancourt,” someone answered.
“Yes, I know his name,” Madame Cheron replied. “But who is he that he should appear at this table?”
Later, someone praised Valancourt’s qualities and suggested that he might marry Mademoiselle d’Emery, a wealthy young woman.
Madame Cheron immediately rejected the idea.
Then, without thinking, she revealed that she herself had rejected Valancourt’s proposal.
Others misunderstood her meaning.
Cavigni cleverly teased her until she became embarrassed.
Finally, someone informed her that Valancourt was actually Madame Clairval’s nephew.
Madame Cheron instantly changed her attitude.
The man she had criticized moments before suddenly became someone she praised.
Emily was amazed.
Soon afterward, Madame Cheron prepared to leave.
As Emily entered the carriage, she saw Valancourt among the crowd outside.
Before they departed, he disappeared.
The next morning, a letter arrived for Emily.
She recognized the handwriting immediately.
Madame Cheron demanded to know who had sent it.
Emily opened it with permission.
When she saw Valancourt’s name, she handed it to her aunt.
After reading it, Madame Cheron surprisingly returned the letter.
“Yes, read it,” she said.
The letter contained a simple request.
Valancourt wished to visit Emily and speak with her.
“What should I answer?” Emily asked.
“We must hear what he has to say,” Madame Cheron replied. “Tell him he may come.”
Emily could hardly believe it.
Then Madame Cheron added:
“Wait. I will write to him myself.”
That evening, Valancourt visited.
Madame Cheron spoke with him privately before Emily was called downstairs.
When Emily entered, she saw hope shining in Valancourt’s face.
“We have discussed the matter,” Madame Cheron said. “The Chevalier has explained that Madame Clairval is related to his family. I would certainly have considered that an acceptable introduction earlier.”
Valancourt bowed.
“I have therefore agreed that you may receive his visits,” Madame Cheron continued. “However, I make no promise about marriage. Until his circumstances improve, I forbid any thoughts of such a connection.”
Emily was deeply distressed by her aunt’s words.
Valancourt also felt embarrassed.
Finally he said:
“Your approval honors me, madam. Yet I still fear that I have little reason to hope.”
Madame Cheron demanded an explanation.
“Until Mademoiselle St. Aubert gives me permission to hope—”
“Oh, is that all?” Madame Cheron interrupted. “I shall answer for her.”
She reminded him that she considered herself Emily’s guardian and expected Emily to obey her wishes.
Then she left them alone.
Emily and Valancourt were both overwhelmed.
Yet soon Valancourt spoke with the sincerity and affection that had always touched her heart.
From that time onward, he visited Madame Cheron regularly.
Emily enjoyed the happiest moments she had known since her father’s death.
Madame Cheron’s change of attitude had come only because she discovered Valancourt’s connection to Madame Clairval and the social advantages it might bring.
She cared less about Emily’s happiness than about the importance such a marriage could give herself.
Meanwhile, Montoni became a frequent visitor to the château.
Emily could no longer doubt that he was a favored suitor of her aunt.
The winter months passed peacefully and happily for Emily and Valancourt.
His military position near Thoulouse allowed them to meet often.
Their favorite place was the pavilion on the terrace.
There, while Madame Cheron worked nearby, Valancourt read aloud works of beauty and imagination.
Emily listened with delight.
They discovered again and again that their hearts and minds were naturally suited to each other.
They shared the same tastes, the same kindness, and the same noble feelings.