When Valmond Came to Pontiac: The Story of a Lost Napoleon. Volume 1.Parker, Gilbert
Science
When Valmond Came to Pontiac: The Story of a Lost Napoleon. Volume 1.
Parker, Gilbert
Canadian fiction
But Madame Chalice, sitting not far from Elise Malboir, had seen the
resemblance in the Cure's garden on Friday evening; and though she had
laughed at it, for, indeed, the matter seemed ludicrous enough at first,
--the impression had remained. She was no Catholic, she did not as a
rule care for religious services; but there was interest in the air, she
was restless, the morning was inviting, she was reverent of all true
expression of life and feeling, though a sad mocker in much; and so she
had come to the little church.
Following Elise's intent look, she read with amusement the girl's budding
romance, and was then suddenly arrested by the head of Valmond, now half
turned towards her. It had, indeed, a look of the First Napoleon. Was
it the hair? Yes, it must be; but the head was not so square, so firm
set; and what a world of difference in the grand effect! The one had
been distant, splendid, brooding (so she glorified him); the other was an
impressionist imitation, with dash, form, poetry, and colour. But where
was the great strength? It was lacking. The close association of Parpon
and Valmond--that was droll; yet, too, it had a sort of fitness, she knew
scarcely why. However, Monsieur was not a fool, in the vulgar sense, for
he had made a friend of a little creature who could be a wasp or a
humming-bird, as he pleased. Then, too, this stranger had conquered her
dear avocat; had won the hearts of the mothers and daughters--her own
servants talked of no one else; had captured this pretty Elise Malboir;
had caused the young men to imitate his walk and retail his sayings;
had won from herself an invitation to visit her; and now had made an
unconscious herald and champion of an innocent old Cure, and set a whole
congregation singing "Vive Napoleon" after mass.
Napoleon? She threw back her pretty head, laughed softly, and fanned
herself. Napoleon? Why, of course there could be no real connection;
the man was an impostor, a base impostor, playing upon the credulities
of a secluded village. Absurd--and interesting! So interesting, she did
not resent the attention given to Valmond, to the exclusion of herself;
though to speak truly, her vanity desired not admiration more than is
inherent in the race of women.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account