Nevertheless, the
tendency to embonpoint, which handsome countrywomen develop when they
no longer live a life of toil and hardship in the fields and in the
sunshine, was already noticeable about her. Her bust had developed.
The plump white shoulders were modelled on rich lines that
harmoniously blended with those of the throat, already showing a few
folds of flesh. But the outline of the face was still faultless, and
the chin delicate.
"Flore," said Jean-Jacques, in a trembling voice, "you feel at home in
this house?"
"Yes, Monsieur Jean."
As the heir was about to make his declaration, he felt his tongue
stiffen at the recollection of the dead man, just put away in his
grave, and a doubt seized him as to what lengths his father's
benevolence might have gone. Flore, who was quite unable even to
suspect his simplicity of mind, looked at her future master and waited
for a time, expecting Jean-Jacques to go on with what he was saying;
but she finally left him without knowing what to think of such
obstinate silence. Whatever teaching the Rabouilleuse may have
received from the doctor, it was many a long day before she finally
understood the character of Jean-Jacques, whose history we now present
in a few words.
At the death of his father, Jacques, then thirty-seven, was as timid
and submissive to paternal discipline as a child of twelve years old.
That timidity ought to explain his childhood, youth, and after-life to
those who are reluctant to admit the existence of such characters, or
such facts as this history relates,--though proofs of them are, alas,
common everywhere, even among princes; for Sophie Dawes was taken by
the last of the Condes under worse circumstances than the
Rabouilleuse.
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