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 JESSICA BECK

THE DONUT MYSTERIES, BOOK 43

BLENDED BRIBES
Table of Contents
Title Page

Blended Bribes (The Donut Mysteries, #43)

The First Time Ever Published! | The 43rd Donuts Mystery | Jessica
Beck is the New York Times Bestselling Author of the Donut
Mysteries, the Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries, the Classic Diner
Mysteries, the Ghost Cat Cozy Mysteries, and more.

To P and E, | Forever and Always.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12
Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Lemon Candy Drop Donuts

Peanut Brittle

Spicy Lemon-Orange Donuts

Other Books by Jessica Beck

 Donut Mystery 43 BLENDED BRIBES
Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Beck
All rights reserved.
First edition: 2019
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed
in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not
participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in
violation of the author’s rights. This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.
Recipes included in this book are to be recreated at the reader’s
own risk. The author is not responsible for any damage, medical or
otherwise, created as a result of reproducing these recipes. It is the
responsibility of the reader to ensure that none of the ingredients
are detrimental to their health, and the author will not be held liable
in any way for any problems that might arise from following the
included recipes.
 The First Time Ever Published!
The 43rd Donuts Mystery

Jessica Beck is the New York Times

Bestselling Author of the Donut
Mysteries, the Cast Iron Cooking
Mysteries, the Classic Diner
Mysteries, the Ghost Cat Cozy
Mysteries, and more.
AS SUZANNE HART IS coming home from visiting her college
roommate, Autumn, she spots smoke in the sky above downtown
April Springs, North Carolina. She fears that either her donut shop
or the cottage she shares with her husband, Jake, is on fire, but it
turns out to be ReNEWed, Gabby Williams’s gently used clothing
shop next door to Donut Hearts. As Suzanne watches in horror, a
fireman pulls someone from inside the burning building. Is it Gabby,
and if it is, is she still alive? Only time will tell. As events begin to
unfold, Suzanne and Grace do their best to uncover who would want
to torch Gabby’s business, and the owner along with it!
 To P and E,
Forever and Always.
 Chapter 1

F irst I saw the smoke climbing into the air above town, a
massive plume of black that seemed intent on devouring the
fading blue sky surrounding it as dusk began to near.
Then I smelled the foul stench of something burning that should
never be on fire.
As I drove past the City Limits sign for April Springs, I finally
heard the sirens.
I’d been away from home visiting my college roommate and
helping her deal with the turmoil in her own life, but now I was
coming home for a bit of peace and tranquility.
Or so I thought at the time.
Was it possible that Donut Hearts was on fire? After all, a great
many flammable things occurred in my kitchen in order to bring folks
their delightful treats every day. Between the massive fryer filled
with scalding hot oil and the large coffee urns, there was enough
potential danger in the place to make it an OSHA nightmare.
Had the dark specter of doom finally killed my life’s ambition to
be a donutmaker for the rest of my days?
Then again, if it wasn’t my shop, it could just as easily have been
my cottage, not a hundred yards from Donut Hearts as the crow
flew. I’d grown up there with my mother and father, moved away to
live with my first husband, Max, and then I’d come back again after
that marriage had crumbled. Momma and I had shared the space
until she’d found love again in the form of our former chief of police,
Phillip Martin, and I’d been there alone until I’d married Jake, my
second husband and the true love of my life. Was he all right? I
couldn’t bear not knowing as I raced toward the visions of chaos
ahead of me.
 It was all I could do to keep my Jeep on the road as I raced
down Viewmont Avenue and onto Springs Drive, nearly running up
on the sidewalk in front of city hall as I made the sharp turn to see
what exactly was on fire.
 Chapter 2

I nearly collided with a police cruiser as I made the sharp turn.

Slamming on my brakes, I managed to stop just in time
before I hit Officer Darby Jones. He was a big man, though not fat,
and his eyes grew wide when I came so close to running him down.
But that wasn’t what my focus was on at the time.
It wasn’t Donut Hearts that was on fire, but it was close.
Gabby Williams’s shop, ReNEWed, was aflame, and as I started
to get out of my Jeep, I saw a fireman coming out of the back of the
building with someone thrown over his back in a classic carry.
If I had to guess, I would have said that it was most likely Gabby
being carried, and from the look of things, I couldn’t be sure at all if
she’d managed to survive the fire or not.
“What happened?” I asked Darby after I climbed out. I tried to
get past him to see how Gabby was doing, but he didn’t budge.
“Stay right where you are, Suzanne.”
“She’s my friend!” I protested. “She needs me!”
In a voice much calmer than mine had just been, Darby said, “If
you get in their way, you’ll be hurting, not helping. If she’s really
your friend, you’ll stay right where you are.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic, as much as I might have wanted
to. All I could do was stand there and watch as the paramedics
worked to revive Gabby. I knew they were doing their best to save
her, and as I watched, the roof of her gently used clothing shop
collapsed in on itself, the flames leaping higher and higher into the
evening air. Though the town’s fire truck was doing its best to make
a dent in the fire, the volunteer crew—no matter how skilled they
might be—were clearly overmatched by the blazing inferno. On the
other side of ReNEWed, and away from Donuts Hearts, the building
where Patty Cakes had been located before shutting its doors for
good was in danger of being engulfed as well, but what I was
concerned with was what was on my side of the clothing shop.
That was my place, the converted train depot that now housed
the business I’d bought after my painful divorce from Max.
They were starting to spray the side of my building as well.
One thing was certain: Gabby’s business was gone, even if they
did manage to put out the flames, which I thought was an
impossible task, given the massive amount of clothing that had been
stored inside it. The water and smoke damage alone would destroy
the value of anything they might be able to save from the flames.
The truth was that it was probably better to just let it burn to the
ground, as hard as that was to even consider. I wasn’t sure that I’d
be that casual if Donut Hearts had been the business on fire at the
moment, but I knew a total loss when I saw one.
Not that it would matter to anyone concerned if Gabby didn’t
manage to pull through.
“What happened?” Jake asked as he joined me. I hadn’t even
seen him approach, I’d been so mesmerized by what was
happening. My husband put his arm around me and hugged me, all
the while staring at the fire himself.
“I don’t know. I just got here.”
“Who is that they are working on?” He gestured.
“My guess is that it’s Gabby,” I told him. “I missed you,” I added
almost as an afterthought.
“I missed you, too,” he said as he hugged me briefly again.
“Good. At least they’re hosing Donut Hearts and Patty Cakes down.
At this point, that’s about the best they can do.” He shook his head
as he looked at the blaze between them. What was left of ReNEWed
was still shooting flames skyward despite the amount of water that
was being directed at it, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before
the only thing left was a pile of ashes.
“I guess,” I said absently.
“Well, at least it’s something,” Jake said as they transferred the
woman the fireman had pulled out of the flames onto a gurney and
moved her into a nearby waiting ambulance. The brave fireman
finally took off his helmet and mask, and I was surprised to see that
it was the fire chief himself. Harley Lane hadn’t been a young man
in donkey’s years, and if you had asked me earlier if I thought he
was capable of carrying someone out of a roaring fire, I would have
strongly doubted it, but I’d seen it for myself. He got as far as
Donut Hearts before he slumped over into one of the chairs we kept
out front for our al fresco diners.
I tried to rush over to him to see if I could help, but Darby just
shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve got my orders,” he said.
I wouldn’t be able to do the chief any good, anyway. Besides,
three of his men who weren’t directly involved in dealing with the
fire were tending to him, so I knew that he was in good hands.
After a few moments, he shook them all off and stood, not even
wavering for an instant. When he spotted me in the growing crowd,
he walked over to us, albeit a little unsteadily. “Donut Hearts should
be okay,” he said.
“How’s Gabby?” I asked him.
His face looked grim. “It’s hard to say.”
“That was a brave thing you just did going into the fire for her
like that,” I told him.
The fire chief shrugged off my praise. “It’s what I do.” He then
turned to Jake. “Have you seen Chief Grant anywhere?” Harley
asked.
“He’s in Union Square,” Jake said.
“Well, we need him here,” Harley answered, the weariness clear
in his words.
“Was it arson?” Jake asked him.
“I can’t say for sure one way or the other just yet,” Harley
admitted. “It’s not like that flip of yours that burned down. That
was pretty obvious. Whoever did this, if anyone did, was a lot
slicker at it.” He glanced back at the remnants of the shop. “We got
here as fast as we could, but it was too late.” Chief Lane seemed
remorseful that they hadn’t been able to save the place.
“I wouldn’t beat myself up about it if I were you. It was already
a loss before you even got here,” I told him. “I’m just worried about
Gabby.”
 “I am, too,” the chief said. “She was breathing when I got to her,
but I can’t say if she still was when they carted her off. It’s a bad
night for April Springs, folks.”
At that moment, a squad car stopped beside my Jeep, and Chief
Grant got out. Stephen Grant had aged quite a bit since taking over
the department, and I worried about the effects the job was having
on him. Grace, my best friend and his steady, told me that he was
finally settling into the role, and I hoped that she was right. I
prayed this wouldn’t be a setback for him.
“Chief,” Stephen said. “Jake. Welcome back, Suzanne,” he
added as he glanced at me.
“Thanks,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m coordinating an investigation with Chief Erskine in Union
Square. His third day on the job, and somebody started robbing
stores in town.”
“Not restaurants, I hope,” I said, thinking of the DeAngelis clan
and their restaurant, Napoli’s.
“No, not so far as we know,” he admitted. “Anyway, he’s asked
me for my help, so I’ve been there all day.” Chief Grant turned to
the fire chief. “What do you think, Harley?”
“I’m not sure yet. We got a call nine minutes ago,” he said. “I
was first on the scene and found the back of the building was on
fire. I broke the door down in front and found Gabby Williams
unconscious in the storeroom. By the time I got there, the front was
in flames too, so I busted the back door open and somehow
managed to get her out. Don’t ask me how I did it, because right
now I really couldn’t tell you. It’s all just one big blur.”
“That was nice work, Chief,” Grant said.
Again, the older man just shrugged off the compliment. “I was
just doing my job.” He glanced at Jake. “We’ve been busier in the
past four months than we usually are all year. After the fire at Jake’s
flip house, I thought things might slow down, but here we are
again.”
“That was different,” Jake protested. “It wasn’t even in April
Springs, at least not technically.”
 “I know,” Harley said with a sigh. “I’m just saying that some of
my new guys are getting more on-the-job experience than I’d like, at
least this quickly. They’ll be seasoned soon enough. It’s even
weeded one out.”
“What happened?” Jake asked.
“Kenny Dawson was my best recruit. Whenever we had a live
drill, he was the first one through the door, and I had high hopes for
him.”
“Then what?” Chief Grant asked.
“He had his appendix out for your fire, Jake, but he was cleared
for duty for this one. He took one look at the fire and got back into
his truck and drove away. That guy couldn’t get out of here fast
enough. I suspect I’ll have his resignation on my desk before the
night is over.”
“And if you don’t?” I asked.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to fire him,” he said with a sigh.
“Can you really even get fired from a job you volunteer for?” I
followed up.
“When it comes to life and death, you sure can,” the chief said.
“Anyway, I’ve got to get back to my people. I’m sure we’ll talk later,
Chief Grant.”
“I’ll be here,” the chief said as he stared into the flames. The fire
was slowly starting to ebb, no doubt in some part because of the
constant stream of water still being played out on it.
The police chief was staring into the billowing smoke, and Jake
put a hand on his shoulder. “There was nothing you could have
done about it even if you’d been here.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Chief Grant said woodenly. “Still, I should
have been here, not in Union Square. This is my town, and it’s
where I belong.”
“First of all, there’s nothing that says you could have done
anything about this if you were standing in front of the shop when it
happened, and second of all, when someone calls you for help,
especially the new police chief from another nearby town, you help
them if it’s within your power to do it.” It was a stern lecture from
Jake, and I doubted Stephen Grant would have taken it from anyone
 Chapter 4

“I t’s crazy what happened to Gabby, isn’t it?” Paige Hill asked
me a little after nine. Elfin in appearance, Paige’s wispy
blond hair was stylishly done up with old-fashioned typewriter key–
faced barrettes. I’d been getting a steady stream of customers
wanting the inside scoop about ReNEWed burning to the ground, but
so far, there wasn’t anything new to report. As far as I knew, Gabby
was still unconscious, and the fire inspector hadn’t reported his
findings to the police, at least as far as I knew. Of course, Chief
Grant was under no obligation to tell me anything.
I just liked it better when he shared with me.
“It is,” I admitted as I boxed up a dozen donuts for The Last
Page. “What’s your book group discussing today? I’m not even sure
which one is meeting.”
“It’s the SFC today,” she said.
“The SF probably stands for science fiction, but what about the
C?”
“It stands for classics,” she said. “They’re doing one of Robert
Heinlein’s books this morning.”
“Like Glory Road? I loved reading that book when I was a
teenager,” I admitted. I’d mostly devoured mysteries in my youth,
but I’d ventured into the world of science fiction as well on occasion,
and there weren’t many more traditional than Heinlein in my eyes.
“Or are they doing Stranger in a Strange Land? That’s what he
seems to be mostly remembered for these days.”
“As a matter of fact, they’re discussing A Door Into Summer,” she
said. “Have you read it?”
“Yes, I’m a huge fan of that one, too.”
“You should come over and join the group,” Paige said. “I’m sure
they wouldn’t mind.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of How to
build a house
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: How to build a house

an architectural novelette

Author: Eugène-Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc

Translator: Benjamin Bucknall

Release date: September 17, 2023 [eBook #71669]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Sampson Low, Marston, Low, and

Searle, 1874

Credits: Bob Taylor, deaurider and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW TO

BUILD A HOUSE ***
HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE.

THE OLD CHÂTEAU.

 HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE:
AN ARCHITECTURAL NOVELETTE.

BY
E. VIOLLET-LE-DUC.

TRANSLATED BY BENJAMIN BUCKNALL,

ARCHITECT

LONDON:
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, LOW, AND SEARLE,
CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.
1874.

[All Rights Reserved.]

 LONDON
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,
BREAD STREET HILL.
 TRANSLATOR’S NOTE.

Among the voluminous and invaluable published works of M. Viollet-

le-Duc, none perhaps will have greater interest for the amateur or for
the practical architect than the “Histoire d’une Maison.” Of all the
architectural problems of the day there is not one of greater
importance or difficulty than that of building a house which shall fulfil
the various needs and conditions of a modern dwelling; and the
author has brought the results of a long course of study, observation,
and experience, to bear upon this problem in a most practically
instructive and fascinating shape. A lively narrative introduces the
reader to the minute and thorough discussion of every stage of the
processes involved, so that his attention is agreeably relieved; and
each step is illustrated by plates and diagrams, which render the
details intelligible even to the least informed student.
As the scene of this architectural novelette is laid in France, there
is much both in the general remarks and in the arrangements of the
building described which only applies to the social conditions and
requirements of the French. But the value of the principles laid down
and the practical instruction conveyed is not thereby materially
lessened, since every page of the book exhibits important truths or
excellent methods, which are of general application. By following out
those principles it would be easy to obtain the same admirable
adaptation of arrangement, soundness of construction, and charm of
design for an English house, which the author has so ably laid down
and fully illustrated in reference to its French counterpart.
It may be interesting to the reader to know that the “Histoire d’une
Maison” was written and illustrated by M. Viollet-le-Duc during the
evenings of two months—July and August—of last year (1873),
which were spent by him in the Alps for the purpose of surveying and
mapping for the French Government the whole of the French Alps—
a task accomplished by him, alone and unassisted, with minute
accuracy and beauty of delineation, and in a marvellously brief time.
 Benjamin Bucknall,
Architect.
Oystermouth, Swansea,
April 1st, 1874.
 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
PAGE
PAUL GETS AN IDEA 1

CHAPTER II.
WITH A LITTLE HELP, PAUL’S IDEA IS DEVELOPED 13

CHAPTER III.
THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE 26

CHAPTER IV.
PAUL’S IDEAS RESPECTING ART, AND HOW THEY WERE MODIFIED 31

CHAPTER V.
PAUL PURSUES A COURSE OF STUDY IN PRACTICAL
40
ARCHITECTURE

CHAPTER VI.
HOW PAUL IS LED TO RECOGNIZE CERTAIN DISTINCTIONS
60
BETWEEN ETHICS AND ARCHITECTURE

CHAPTER VII.
SETTING OUT THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE HOUSE, AND
71
OPERATIONS ON THE GROUND

CHAPTER VIII.
PAUL REFLECTS 81

CHAPTER IX.
PAUL, CLERK OF THE WORKS 88
 CHAPTER X.
PAUL BEGINS TO UNDERSTAND 96

CHAPTER XI.
THE BUILDING IN ELEVATION 106

CHAPTER XII.
OBSERVATIONS ADDRESSED TO EUGÈNE BY PAUL, AND THE
115
REPLIES MADE TO THEM

CHAPTER XIII.
THE VISIT TO THE BUILDING 121

CHAPTER XIV.
PAUL FEELS THE NECESSITY OF IMPROVING HIMSELF IN THE ART
126
OF DRAWING

CHAPTER XV.
CONSIDERATION OF THE STAIRCASES 133

CHAPTER XVI.
THE CRITIC 137

CHAPTER XVII.
PAUL INQUIRES WHAT ARCHITECTURE IS 146

CHAPTER XVIII.
THEORETICAL STUDIES 156

CHAPTER XIX.
THEORETICAL STUDIES (continued) 172

CHAPTER XX.
STUDIES INTERRUPTED 183
 CHAPTER XXI.
BUILDING RECOMMENCED—THE TIMBER WORK 189

CHAPTER XXII.
THE CHIMNEYS 204

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CANTINE 211

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE JOINER’S WORK 214

CHAPTER XXV.
WHAT PAUL LEARNT AT CHATEAUROUX 222

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE SLATING AND PLUMBING 230

CHAPTER XXVII.
ORDER IN FINISHING THE WORK 241

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE HOUSE-WARMING 247
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
FIG PAGE
THE OLD CHÂTEAU Frontispiece.
THE OLD CELLAR Vignette.
1. PLAN OF THE GROUND FLOOR 22
2. PLAN OF THE FIRST FLOOR 24
3. ROOF PLAN 33
4. PLAN OF THE SECOND FLOOR 36
5. THE ENTRANCE FRONT 37
6. EXAMPLE OF A BUILDING SITE 46
7. DITTO 47
8. DITTO 49
9. SECTION OF CELLAR VAULT 53
10. THE OLD CELLAR 54
11. THE OLD CELLAR STAIRS 56
12. THE BULGED WALLS 58
13. CONSTRUCTION OF A ROOF PRINCIPAL 62
14. CAMBERED TIMBER 67
15. THE OLD ROOF 68
16. COUPLED TIMBERS 69
17. DITTO 69
18. TIMBER CLIPS 70
19. SETTING OUT THE BUILDING 73
20. USE OF THE THEODOLITE 79
21. THE CELLAR PLAN 89
22. DEPOSIT OF EXCAVATED SOIL 92
23. FOUNDATION STONES 94
24. SECTION OF SEWER 95
25. CENTERING OF CELLAR VAULT 97
26. SECTION OF CELLAR AIR-HOLES 99
27. RESPECTIVE VIEW OF DITTO 100
28. SPRING OF THE CELLAR VAULTING 101
29. THE GARDEN FRONT 103
30. THE QUOIN STONES 107
31. THE WINDOW CASING 108
32. THE CEILINGS 110
33. METHOD OF TRIMMING THE FLOORS 112
34. PERSPECTIVE OF DITTO 112
35. VIEW OF THE BUILDING OPERATIONS 120
36. HOLLOW BEDDED STONES 123
37. DRAWING MODELS 128
38. DITTO 129
39. PLANS AND SECTION OF THE PRINCIPAL STAIRS 132
40. THE STAIRCASE STRING 135
41. STEP OF WINDING STAIRS 136
42. SECTION OF THE SIDE WALLS, WITH DETAILS 163
43. AN ORIEL WINDOW 166
44. BAY WINDOW OF BILLIARD-ROOM 170
45. DETAIL OF CORNICE, STRING COURSE, ETC. 176
46. TRANSVERSE SECTION OF THE HOUSE 191
47. PLAN OF THE ROOF SUPPORTS 192
48. SECTION OF THE ROOF 194
49. THE STAIRCASE ROOF 196
50. FLAWS IN TIMBER 198
51. COUPLED BEAMS 199
52. SECTION OF THE FLOOR JOISTS 201
53. DITTO 201
54. SECTION OF THE FLOOR BEAMS 201
55. THE DORMER WINDOWS 203
56. THE DOORS 216
57. DETAILS OF DITTO 217
58. THE CASEMENTS 218
59. DETAILS OF DITTO 219
60. THE METHOD OF SLATING 233
61. DETAILS OF THE PLUMBER’S WORK 235
62. THE NEW HOUSE 258
HOW TO BUILD A HOUSE.
 CHAPTER I.
PAUL GETS AN IDEA.

Who is happier than the young student from the Lyceum when he
comes home for the summer vacation, bringing with him proofs of a
well-spent year? Everything smiles upon him. The sky is serene, the
country wears its loveliest dress, and the fruit is ripe.
Everyone congratulates him on his success, and predicts for him,
after his six weeks’ repose, an energetic recommencement of
congenial labour, crowned by a brilliant career in the future.
Yes, our student is a happy fellow; the air seems preternaturally
light, the sun shines more brightly, and the meadows wear a richer
green. Even the unwelcome rain is laden with perfume.
As soon as the morning breaks he hastens to revisit his favourite
haunts in the park—the stream, the lake, and the farm—to see the
horses, the boat, and the plantations.
He chats with the farmer’s wife, who smilingly presents him with a
nice galette, hot from the oven. He walks with the gamekeeper, who
tells him all the news of the neighbourhood while going his rounds.
The sound of the sheep bells is musical—nay, even the monotonous
song of the shepherd-boy, now grown a tall fellow, and aspiring to
the full dignity of shepherd.
It is indeed a happy time. But in a few days the shade of the noble
trees, the lovely scenery, the long walks, the gamekeeper’s stories,
and even the boating, become wearisome, unless some congenial
occupation presents itself to occupy the mind. It is the privilege of old
age alone to delight in memories, and always to find fresh pleasure
in the contemplation of woods and fields.
The stores of memory are soon exhausted by youth; and quiet
meditation is not to its taste.
Monsieur Paul—a lively youth of sixteen—did not, perhaps,
indulge in these reflections in the abstract; but as a matter of fact,
after a week passed at the residence of his father, who cultivated his
considerable estate in the province of Berry, he had almost
exhausted the stock of impressions which the return to the paternal
domain had excited. During the long scholastic year how many
projects had he not formed for the next vacation! Six weeks seemed
too short a time for their accomplishment. How many things had he
to see again; how much to say and do. Yet in eight days all had been
seen, said, and done.
Besides, his eldest sister, who had been lately married, had set
out on a long journey with her husband; and as to Lucy, the
youngest, she seemed too much occupied with her doll and its
wardrobe to take an interest in the thinkings and doings of her
respected brother.
It had rained all day; and the farm, visited by M. Paul for the fifth
time, had presented a sombre and mournful aspect. The fowls
crouching under the walls had a pensive look; and even the ducks
were dabbling in the mud in melancholy silence. The gamekeeper
had indeed taken M. Paul with him on a hare-hunting expedition, but
they had returned without success, and pretty well soaked. To his
disappointment, M. Paul had found the keeper’s stories rather long
and diffuse—not the less so as they were being repeated for the
third time with few variations. Moreover, the veterinary surgeon had
announced that morning, to M. Paul’s vexation, that his pony had
caught a cold and must not quit the stable for a week. The paper had
been read after dinner, but M. Paul was little attracted by its politics,
and the miscellaneous intelligence was deplorably uninteresting.
Monsieur de Gandelau (Paul’s father) was too much taken up with
agricultural matters, and perhaps also with the treatment of his gout,
to seek to relieve the ennui of which his son was the victim; and
Madame de Gandelau, still suffering from the depression caused by
her eldest daughter’s departure, was working with a kind of
desperation at a piece of tapestry, whose destination was a mystery
to all about her, and perhaps even to the person who was so
laboriously adding stitch to stitch.
 “You have had a letter from Marie?” said M. de Gandelau, putting
down the newspaper.
“Yes, my dear, this evening. They are enjoying themselves
excessively; the weather has been charming, and they have had the
most delightful excursions in the Oberland. They are on the point of
passing the Simplon for Italy. Marie will write to me from Baveno,
Hôtel de——”
“Capital! and how are they?”
“Quite well.”
“And they still mean to go to Constantinople on that important
business?”
“Yes, N—— has had a letter urging him to go; they will take Italy
only en route. They hope to embark at Naples in a month, at latest.
But Marie tells me they cannot return within a year. She does not
appear to think much of so long an absence, but it gives me a pang
which no arguments for its necessity can alleviate.”
“Ah! well, but do you expect our children to marry for our
advantage? And was it not settled that it should be so? They say
affection seldom stands the test of living constantly together on a
journey. N—— is a good, noble fellow, hard-working, and a little
ambitious, which is no bad thing. Marie loves him; she has
intelligence and good health. They will pass the trial successfully, I
have not a doubt, and will return to us well-tried companions for life,
thoroughly acquainted with each other, and having learned how to
further and to suffice for one another’s happiness; and with that
spice of independence which is so necessary for preserving a good
understanding with one’s neighbours.”
“I daresay you are right, my dear; but this long absence is not the
less painful to me, and this year will seem a long one. I shall
certainly be glad when I begin to prepare their rooms for them here,
and have only a few days to reckon till I may hope to see them
again.”
“Certainly, certainly; and I too shall be delighted to see them at
home. Paul, too! But as it is certain they will be a year away, it would
be a fine opportunity for resuming my plan.”
“What, my dear? Do you mean building the house you were
thinking of, on that bit of land which is part of Marie’s dowry? I beg of
you to do nothing of the kind. We have quite enough room for them
here, and for their children, if they have any. And, after this long
absence, it will be a new trial to me to have Marie settled at a
distance from us—not to have her near me. Besides, her husband
cannot stay three-quarters of a year in the country. His engagements
do not allow of it. Marie would then be alone. What can she do in a
house all to herself, with her husband absent?”
“She will do, my love, as you did yourself, when my business
called me—as it did too often—away from home; yet we were young
then. She will have her house to see after; she will get into the way
of managing her property; she will have occupation and
responsibilities; and so she will be satisfied with herself and with the
result of her thought and work. Believe me, I have seen the warmest
family affections weakened and destroyed by the habit of married
children living with their parents. The wife likes to be mistress in her
own house; and this is a sound and just feeling; we should not run
counter to it. A woman who has been wisely educated, having a
house to look after and the responsibility and independence which
responsibility in every form brings with it, is more capable of
maintaining her own dignity of character than one who has been kept
all her life in a state of tutelage. Marie would be very comfortable
here, very happy to be with us, and her husband would be not less
satisfied in knowing that she was with us; but she would not have a
home of her own. An unmarried daughter is only in her place when
with her mother; but a wife is only in her place in her own house. A
married woman in her mother’s house takes her place only as a
guest. And even if we suppose no mutual irritation to arise from this
life in common—and this can hardly fail to arise—it is certain that
indifference to practical interests, nonchalance, and even ennui, and
all the dangers thence ensuing, are sure to be caused by it.
“You have brought up your daughter too well for her not to be
ardently desirous of fulfilling all her duties; you have always shown
her an example of activity too conspicuous for her not to wish to