Blanche slept far beyond the hour she had eagerly expected to wake. Her maid, exhausted from the journey, did not disturb her until breakfast was almost prepared.
Yet her disappointment disappeared the instant she opened the window.
Before her stretched a magnificent scene. On one side, the wide sea sparkled beneath the morning sun, with distant sails drifting across the waves and oars flashing as boats moved along the shore. On the other side lay fresh green forests, endless plains, and blue mountains glowing beneath the bright sky.
The pure air filled her lungs, and a healthy color returned to her cheeks. Her eyes shone with happiness.
“Who was the first person to invent convents?” she exclaimed. “And who first convinced people to enter them? To hide away from the very world that reveals the greatness of God!”
She looked out at the beautiful landscape and continued:
“God cannot be pleased by empty ceremonies alone. He must prefer the gratitude of a sincere heart. When we see the wonders He has created, we feel true devotion. During all those dull years inside the convent, I never felt such faith as I have felt in only these few hours here. I need only look around me, and my heart naturally turns toward God.”
With this joyful thought, she left the window, hurried along the gallery, and soon entered the breakfast room, where the Count was already waiting.
The cheerful sunlight had softened his gloomy thoughts. A pleasant smile rested on his face, and his voice was warm as he greeted Blanche.
She immediately felt her own happiness reflected in his.
Soon Henri arrived, followed by the Countess and Mademoiselle Bearn. The beauty of the place seemed to influence everyone. Even the Countess appeared more pleasant than usual and accepted her husband’s kindness with some degree of warmth.
However, she soon returned to her usual complaints.
“Are there any neighbors who could make this miserable place more bearable?” she asked. “Do you truly expect me to survive here without any entertainment?”
After breakfast, everyone went their separate ways.
The Count ordered his steward to meet him in the library before going to inspect his lands and visit some of his tenants.
Henri eagerly went to the shore to examine the boat they would use for an evening trip and to supervise the arrangement of a silk canopy.
The Countess, accompanied by Mademoiselle Bearn, withdrew to the newer part of the château. Her apartment was bright and elegant, with windows opening onto balconies facing the sea. Fortunately for her, this meant she did not have to look upon the “terrible” Pyrenees.
She rested on a sofa, gazing lazily over the ocean beyond the treetops, enjoying the luxury of doing nothing.
Mademoiselle Bearn read aloud a sentimental novel filled with fashionable philosophical ideas. The Countess considered herself something of a philosopher, especially regarding disbelief in religion, and among certain circles her opinions were eagerly awaited and treated almost like important theories.
Meanwhile, Blanche wandered through the wild woodland paths surrounding the château.
Her excitement gradually softened into peaceful reflection.
She walked slowly beneath the thick branches where fresh drops of dew still rested on flowers hidden among the grass. Then, filled with sudden joy, she hurried along paths where sunlight broke through the leaves and shadows danced upon the ground.
The delicate greens of the beech, acacia, and mountain ash trees mixed beautifully with the darker shades of cedar, pine, and cypress. The mighty oak and broad-leaved plane trees stood proudly beside the graceful cork trees and trembling poplars.
Everywhere she looked, nature seemed to display endless beauty.
At last, she reached a rustic bench hidden deep within the woods and rested there.
Through an opening between the trees, she could see the blue waters of the Mediterranean, a white sail moving slowly across the surface, and a great mountain glowing beneath the midday sun.
The peaceful silence awakened her imagination.
Only the buzzing of bees disturbed the stillness. Small insects with bright wings moved happily among the flowers, drinking their sweetness.
As Blanche watched a butterfly flutter from blossom to blossom, she began imagining the happiness of its short and beautiful life.
Soon, inspired by the scene, she composed a poem about a butterfly searching for its beloved.
The Butterfly’s Song
What hidden valley, filled with flowers,
Calls you to rest your shining wings?
Why leave the purple fields again,
Where happiness so often springs?
I have waited within the lily’s cup,
Where morning light first touched the snow-white bloom.
No sound has told me you are near,
No fluttering wings have crossed the room.
No fresh spring fountain, no green forest,
No sunny meadow, no flowering tree,
Can be as sweet as this quiet lily home,
Where you shall live forever with me.
When April flowers begin to open,
When primroses and bluebells grow,
When violets hide beneath the moss
And drop their tears of morning dew;
When gentle winds move through the shade,
Shaking blossoms and stealing their perfume,
When every forest sings with joy,
I wander beneath the greenwood bloom.
There I fly through tangled paths,
Where careless footsteps never come,
Where sunlight enters only softly,
And cool fresh air surrounds my home.
Often I dance upon a sunbeam,
Above valleys, fountains, hills, and flowers.
I visit every bright blossom
That bends beside the wandering stream.
But I will leave these treasures behind,
And lead you where jasmine spreads its white flowers,
Where spring blossoms hide,
And young roses lift their heads.
Come with me to the mountain heights,
Where wild thyme offers sweet perfume.
Its fragrance carried by the wind
Often guides me beneath the cedar trees.
Yet still no sound comes through the breeze.
What shadow keeps you from my side?
Once you wished only to please me,
Once you wandered only with me.
Perhaps the fairy queen has sent you far away,
To gather treasures before night arrives:
Perhaps to fill her tiny acorn cups
With nectar from distant flowers,
Or collect the morning dew beside enchanted streams
To comfort love’s sorrow.
Perhaps she sent you over mountains
To carry her message of affection,
So that at evening you may dance
Across the twilight fields.
But now I see you coming near.
Your blue and black wings shine brightly.
Your golden and purple colors
Are familiar to my eyes.
The wind carries you back to me.
Welcome, welcome to my home!
Within the lily’s shelter we shall live happily,
And together we shall wander beyond the mountains.
When Blanche returned to the château, she did not go to the Countess’s room. Instead, she decided to explore the parts of the building she had not yet seen.
The oldest section attracted her attention most.
Although the newer rooms were beautiful and elegant, the ancient parts awakened a stronger feeling in her imagination.
She climbed the grand staircase and passed through the oak gallery until she entered a long series of chambers.
The walls were covered with old tapestries or dark cedar panels. The furniture looked almost as old as the rooms themselves.
The enormous fireplaces, once places of warmth and happiness, now showed only emptiness.
Everything had an abandoned appearance, as though the noble people whose portraits hung upon the walls had been the last inhabitants of those rooms.
Leaving them behind, Blanche entered another gallery.
At one end was a staircase leading downward. At the other was a locked door that seemed to lead toward the northern side of the château.
Since the door would not open, she descended the staircase.
A few steps below, she found another door hidden in the wall. Opening it, she entered a small square chamber inside the western tower.
Three windows revealed three magnificent views.
The northern window looked across Languedoc.
The western window showed the hills rising toward the Pyrenees, whose enormous peaks dominated the horizon.
The southern window revealed the Mediterranean and the wild coastline of Roussillon.
Blanche was delighted.
After leaving the tower, she continued down a narrow staircase and entered a dark passage.
She wandered for some time, unable to discover her way back.
Her curiosity slowly changed into fear.
Finally, she called for help.
Soon she heard footsteps approaching. A faint light appeared through a door at the end of the passage.
The door opened carefully, and someone looked out without stepping forward.
Blanche remained silent until the person began closing the door.
Then she called out and hurried toward it.
She discovered the old housekeeper, Dorothée.
“Dear Mademoiselle! Is it you?” Dorothée cried. “How did you ever find your way here?”
Blanche was too frightened to notice the expression of fear and surprise on the old woman’s face.
Dorothée led her through a long series of passages and rooms that appeared untouched for a hundred years until they reached the housekeeper’s own apartment.
There, she begged Blanche to sit down and take some refreshments.
Blanche accepted some sweets and told her about the beautiful tower she had discovered.
“I should like to make that place my own,” she said.
Dorothée did not share her enthusiasm.
Perhaps she was less sensitive to natural beauty, or perhaps years of living among such scenery had made her forget its charm.
When Blanche asked where the locked door at the end of the gallery led, Dorothée hesitated.
“It opens into a group of rooms that have not been entered for many years,” she said quietly.
“My late mistress died in one of those chambers, and I have never had the courage to enter them since.”
Seeing tears in Dorothée’s eyes, Blanche immediately stopped asking.
Soon afterward, she went to prepare for dinner.
At the evening meal, everyone appeared cheerful except the Countess. Her empty mind, weakened by constant idleness, prevented her from enjoying happiness or bringing happiness to others.
Mademoiselle Bearn attempted to amuse herself by teasing Henri.
He answered politely, not because he wished to encourage her attention, but because he could not easily avoid responding.
Her liveliness sometimes entertained him, but her vanity and lack of sensitivity often irritated him.
Blanche’s happiness remained until she reached the sea.
Then, looking upon the enormous waters before her, fear returned.
The ocean that had seemed beautiful from a distance now appeared endless and dangerous.
Only through great effort did she persuade herself to enter the boat with her father.
As she silently watched the horizon, a feeling of overwhelming beauty struggled against her fear.
A gentle breeze moved across the water, stirred the silk canopy above the boat, and touched the trees covering the cliffs.
The Count looked proudly upon the land that belonged to him, while also admiring its natural beauty.
Farther along the shore stood a pavilion hidden among the woods.
It had once been a place of celebration and happiness, and its location still made it wonderfully romantic.
The Count had ordered coffee and refreshments to be prepared there.
The sailors guided the boat around the curves of the coast, passing wooded cliffs and quiet bays.
From another boat nearby came the soft sounds of horns and other instruments. Their music echoed among the rocks before fading across the waves.
Blanche gradually forgot her fears.
A peaceful happiness filled her heart.
She was too content even to remember the convent or her former suffering.
The Countess also felt less unhappy than before. She controlled her usual moods because she wished to regain her husband’s good opinion.
The Count looked upon his family and surroundings with quiet satisfaction.
Henri enjoyed the excitement of youth, thinking only of future pleasures and not regretting those already gone.
After nearly an hour, they landed.
A small path covered with plants led upward through the woods.
Soon Blanche saw the pavilion between the trees. Its entrance was made of beautiful colored marble.
As she followed the Countess, she repeatedly looked back toward the sea far below and then toward the silent forests around her.
The darkness and mystery of the woods created feelings of deep wonder.
The pavilion had been prepared quickly, but its faded paintings and worn furniture showed that it had long been neglected.
While everyone enjoyed fruit and coffee, the distant horns continued to echo through the forest.
Even the Countess seemed fascinated by the place.
Perhaps she truly admired the scenery, or perhaps she simply enjoyed imagining new decorations and furniture.
She spoke eagerly about repairing and beautifying the pavilion.
The Count happily agreed, pleased to see her mind occupied by something natural and innocent.
They planned new paintings, green silk furniture, marble statues of forest spirits carrying baskets of flowers, and large windows that would allow the surrounding landscapes to become part of the room.
Each window revealed a different view:
One opened toward a peaceful woodland path.
Another showed the distant Pyrenees.
A third revealed the towers and ruins of Château-le-Blanc among the trees.
A fourth looked toward green fields and villages along the Aude River.
A fifth displayed the Mediterranean and its towering cliffs.
The remaining windows showed different scenes of the wild forests.
After spending some time there, the party returned to the shore and continued their journey by boat.
The evening was so beautiful that they decided to travel farther into the bay.
The breeze had disappeared, and the sailors used their oars.
The water became a perfect mirror, reflecting the cliffs, forests, glowing sky, and dark clouds slowly gathering in the east.
Blanche enjoyed watching the oars disturb the reflection, creating circles that moved across the water without destroying the beauty of the scene.
Above the dark woods, she suddenly noticed a group of tall towers shining in the sunset.
Soon afterward, as the music stopped, she heard distant voices singing.
“What voices are those?” the Count asked, looking around.
“The sound has disappeared.”
“It sounded like a vesper hymn,” Blanche replied. “I often heard such hymns in my convent.”
“Then we must be near the monastery,” said the Count.
Soon the boat passed around a high point of land, and the monastery of St. Claire appeared beside the sea.
It stood where the cliffs fell into a small bay surrounded by woods.
Parts of the ancient building could be seen among the trees: the great entrance, the Gothic windows, the cloisters, and a distant chapel.
A ruined arch stood apart from the main structure, adding to the solemn beauty of the scene.
Moss covered the grey walls, and ivy climbed around the pointed windows.
Everything outside was silent.
But as Blanche admired the ancient monastery, voices rose from within.
The Count ordered the sailors to stop rowing.
The monks were singing evening prayers.
Female voices joined theirs, and the music slowly grew stronger until the organ and choir filled the air with solemn harmony.
Then the sound faded into silence.
Blanche sighed.
Tears appeared in her eyes.
Her thoughts seemed carried upward with the music.
While everyone remained still, a group of monks and then several nuns dressed in white veils emerged from the monastery and disappeared beneath the trees.
The Countess was the first to speak.
“These gloomy songs and monks make me feel miserable,” she said. “It is becoming dark. Please let us return before we are caught here at night.”
The Count looked toward the sky and realized a storm was approaching.
Dark clouds gathered in the east, fighting against the golden light of sunset.
Sea birds flew wildly across the water, searching for shelter.
The sailors pulled strongly at their oars.
Thunder began in the distance, and heavy drops of rain fell onto the sea.
The Count decided they must return to the monastery for safety.
As the storm clouds covered the sky, their darkness turned red beneath the sunset, making the forests and monastery towers appear to burn.
The Countess and Mademoiselle Bearn became frightened.
Blanche remained silent.
She felt both fear and admiration as she watched the magnificent clouds and listened to the thunder rolling across the heavens.
When they reached the monastery lawn, the Count sent a servant to request shelter.
The Superior soon appeared with several monks.
The party left the boat and hurried across the lawn as the rain grew heavier.
At the entrance, the Superior welcomed them with a blessing.
Inside the great hall, the abbess waited with several nuns dressed in black and white.
She greeted the Countess warmly and led Blanche, the Countess, and Mademoiselle Bearn into the convent room.
The Count and Henri were taken to the dining hall.
The Countess accepted the abbess’s kindness with careless politeness.
She followed her slowly into the room, where the painted windows and wooden panels created a permanent sadness that was now deepened by the darkness outside.
While refreshments were prepared, Blanche moved to a window.
Through the clear lower panes, she watched the storm crossing the Mediterranean.
The peaceful sea had become violent.
Dark waves rose and crashed against the shore, sending white foam and spray over the rocks.
The western sky glowed red beneath heavy clouds.
A beam of sunlight broke through, lighting distant shores, nearby forests, and parts of the stormy sea.
Blanche watched a ship struggling against the waves.
Whenever lightning flashed, she looked anxiously toward it and prayed for the sailors.
At last the sun disappeared.
The clouds covered the remaining light.
The ship could still barely be seen, and Blanche continued watching until repeated flashes of lightning warned her to leave the window.
She returned to the abbess.
Their conversation was interrupted by terrible thunder.
Soon the monastery bell rang, calling everyone to prayer.
As Blanche passed the window once more, lightning revealed the ship again.
It was surrounded by violent waves.
Its mast bent dangerously beneath the storm.
With a heavy heart, Blanche followed the abbess and the Countess to the chapel.
After the prayers ended, the storm weakened slightly.
The Count’s servants arrived with carriages, and the family returned home.
Blanche was surprised to discover how much the distance had deceived her.
The monastery, whose bell she had heard from the château the previous evening, was much farther away than she had imagined.
When they arrived home, the Countess claimed to be exhausted and immediately retired.
The Count, Blanche, and Henri remained in the supper room.
Suddenly, during a brief silence in the storm, they heard the sound of cannon fire.
The Count understood that it was a distress signal from a ship.
He went to the window facing the Mediterranean.
The sea was completely dark, and the storm drowned every other sound.
Blanche remembered the ship she had seen earlier and joined her father with trembling concern.
Again the guns fired.
A tremendous thunderclap followed.
In the flash of lightning, they saw a ship struggling among the white waves.
Darkness returned.
Then another flash revealed the vessel again, with one sail raised, being driven toward the shore.
Blanche held tightly to her father’s arm.
Her face showed fear and pity.
The Count looked upon the sea with deep concern.
Knowing no boat could survive such a storm, he did not send one out.
Instead, he ordered his servants to carry torches onto the cliffs to guide the ship and warn the sailors of the rocks.
Henri went outside to direct the lights.
Blanche remained beside her father, watching the sea.
Soon she saw the torches burning against the darkness and casting red reflections on the waves.
The ship fired again.
The torches were raised high in reply.
The signals continued.
Through flashes of lightning, Blanche thought the ship was moving closer.
Soon servants appeared running along the cliffs.
Some stood dangerously near the edges, holding torches attached to long poles.
Others descended the steep path toward the shore, shouting to the sailors.
The cries of the people mixed with the storm.
Blanche’s anxiety became almost unbearable.
Then Henri rushed into the room.
“The ship has reached the bay,” he announced. “But it is badly damaged. They fear it may break apart before everyone can escape.”
The Count immediately ordered his boats to assist.
Those who could not find shelter nearby would be brought to the château.
Among the rescued passengers were Emily St. Aubert, Monsieur Du Pont, Ludovico, and Annette.
They had sailed from Leghorn to Marseilles and were crossing the Gulf of Lyons when the storm overtook them.
The Count welcomed them with his usual kindness.
Emily wished to continue immediately to the monastery of St. Claire, but he refused to allow it.
After such terror and exhaustion, she could not safely travel farther that night.
The Count soon discovered that Monsieur Du Pont was an old acquaintance.
Their reunion was filled with happiness and conversation.
Emily was introduced to the family, whose warmth quickly removed her embarrassment.
Before long, everyone sat together at the supper table.
Blanche’s sincere joy at the strangers’ escape touched Emily deeply.
Du Pont, relieved from the dangers of the stormy sea, felt the great contrast between his recent suffering and his present comfort in a peaceful home.
Meanwhile, Annette entertained the servants with stories of the dangers she had faced.
She laughed so much about her escape and her happiness with Ludovico that the entire servants’ hall echoed with amusement.
Ludovico was equally cheerful, though he had enough restraint to control himself.
Annette, however, continued laughing until the sound reached the Countess’s room.
The Countess sent someone to discover the cause of the noise and ordered everyone to be quiet.
Emily retired early, seeking the rest she desperately needed.
But sleep did not come easily.
Returning to her homeland awakened countless memories.
Every event and hardship she had experienced since leaving France passed through her mind.
Above all, she thought of Valancourt.
The thought that she was once again in the same country as him, after such a long separation, filled her with indescribable happiness.
But that happiness soon changed into anxiety.
So much time had passed since they had exchanged letters.
So many things might have happened.
The possibility that Valancourt might no longer love her, or might even no longer be alive, was too painful for her to consider.
She decided that the next day she would write to tell him she had returned to France.
Surely he could not know of her arrival unless she informed him.
Comforted by the hope that she would soon hear he was safe and still faithful, Emily finally surrendered to sleep.