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Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

5. A paradigm establishes only written rules.

True False

6. ‘Paradigm shift' refers to the situation in which those in the existing paradigm may not even
see the changes that are occurring, and therefore, cannot analyze the changes.
True False

1-2
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

7. Reasons for considerable resistance to change and difficulty to move from the old
management paradigm to the new can be explained by the "paradigm effect."
True False

8. The fact that today's managers are competent in their functional specialization is sufficient
to reiterate that most of them paid close attention to the conceptual and human dimensions of
their jobs.
True False

9. According to Theory X, if employees were kept happy, they would become high
performers.
True False

10. Theory X is the natural choice for most organizations in today's environment.
True False

11. Most of the practicing managers and their organizations cultures believe, fully implement,
and consistently adhere to a full-fledged HPWPs approach to management.
True False

12. The movement to not only recognize, but also do something about the "Knowing-Doing
Gap" is the movement towards evidence-based management.
True False

13. Most of the "new management practices" are essentially a readapted version of existing
"old management truths."
True False

1-3
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

14. The Hawthorne studies were more a result of planned study than a serendipitous
discovery.
True False

15. The Hawthorne effect postulates that the increase in productivity can be attributed to the
special attention received by the participants.
True False

16. Behavioral science is almost as old as the physical and biological sciences.
True False

17. According to meta-analysis, if one study shows that a management technique doesn't work
and another study shows that it does, an average of those results is the best estimate of how
well that management practice works (or doesn't work).
True False

18. The experimental design of research used in organizational behavior is largely borrowed
from sociology.
True False

19. The primary aim of any research design, establishing a cause-and-effect relationship, is
accomplished through the experimental design.
True False

20. Laboratory studies tend to have better external validity than field studies.
True False

1-4
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

21. According to Edward Tolman, behavior is reactive, and is directed towards situations.
True False

22. The social cognitive process can be a unifying theoretical framework for both cognition
and behaviorism.
True False

23. The behavioristic approach posits that cognitive processes such as thinking, expectancies,
and perception exist and are essential to predict and control or manage behavior.
True False

24. The behavioristic approach has been labeled as being mentalistic, while the cognitive
approach has been labeled deterministic.
True False

25. Personality characteristics such as conscientiousness can serve as an example for

organizational participants.
True False

1-5
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

Multiple Choice Questions

26. Which of the following is NOT an important environmental or contextual dimension for
organizational behavior?
A. Leadership
B. Globalization
C. Ethics
D. Diversity

27. Human resource of an organization includes all of the following EXCEPT:

A. human capital.
B. social capital.
C. positive psychological capital.
D. relations capital.

28. David was recently promoted as the chief marketing officer for Izet Pvt. Ltd. David was
chosen because of his remarkable marketing skills and his experience as Vice-President for 15
years in a reputed marketing firm. Which of the following can be attributed as a reason for his
promotion?
A. Physical capital
B. Human capital
C. Social capital
D. Positive psychological capital

29. Ken is hired as a branch manager of a marketing firm only because of his networks with
important personalities and his connections with potential clients. Which of the following can
he best provide to the organization?
A. Physical capital
B. Relation capital
C. Social capital
D. Positive psychological capital

1-6
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

30. Which of the following best explains positive psychological capital?

A. What you know
B. Who you know
C. What you say
D. Who you can become

1-7
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

31. Which one of the following changes CANNOT be attributed to the dynamic,
technologically advanced work environment?
A. A change in work ethics
B. A change in the traditional employment contract
C. A change in the nature of the work
D. A change in the composition of the workforce

32. Which among the following does NOT signify the term "paradigm?"
A. A framework
B. A way of thinking
C. A scheme for understanding technology
D. A scheme for understanding reality

33. InvestorPro, an investment consulting firm plans to flatten its traditional hierarchy
structure. The intent is to eliminate authoritarian positions in its structure and create new ones
that are operationally logical. The top management agrees that none of the employees would
be laid-off but only transferred from their positions to the new ones. This plan, when
announced to its employees, is not taken well by lower- and middle- level management who
did not want the structure to be changed. When asked for a reason, they were not able to put a
strong argument. Which of the following best describes this effect?
A. Hawthorne effect
B. Paradigm effect
C. Audience effect
D. External validity

34. James Brian Quinn believes that the organization of enterprise and effective strategies will
depend more on development and deployment of _____ resources than on the management of
_____ assets.
A. intellectual; physical
B. human; monetary
C. technological; physical
D. natural; monetary

1-8
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

35. A manager following which of the following theories would be of the opinion that
employees are only interested in money?
A. Social assumptions theory.
B. Theory X.
C. Theory Y.
D. Theory Z.

36. Identify a method that was NOT used by traditional managers to solve management
problems and ensure maximum productivity in the past.
A. Devise monetary incentive plans
B. Ensure job security
C. Provide regular paid leave
D. Provide good working conditions

37. Among the following, identify which is NOT part of high performance work practices?
A. Job security
B. Self-managed teams
C. Pay for performance
D. Multi-source feedback system

38. Identify Jeff Pfeffer's "3 Its," correlating it to organizational behavior theory and research.
A. Believe it.
B. Spread it.
C. Do it.
D. Stick with it.

39. Pfeffer and Sutton identified five sources that prevented the implementation and
sustainability of the high performance work practices. Identify which is NOT one of the
sources.
A. Debilitating fear
B. Destructive internal competition
C. Mindless reliance on precedent
D. Poorly designed and complex hierarchy

1-9
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

40. If practitioners take on a more "Practitioner-Scientific" role and academicians assume a

more "Scientific-Practitioner" role, it would result in a movement towards:
A. evidence-based management.
B. relation management.
C. social facilitation.
D. positive psychological capital.

41. Which among the following aspect of behavioral management was not emphasized by
early pioneers of practicing management, such as Alfred P. Sloan?
A. Hierarchical structure
B. Specialization
C. Management functions of planning and controlling
D. Human dimension

42. The relay room studies phase of the Hawthorne studies concluded that:
A. the productivity would increase if the length of workday was reduced.
B. productivity was directly proportional to rest breaks.
C. productivity was independent to the method of payment.
D. the independent variables by themselves were not causing the change in the dependent
variable.

43. Increased productivity under controlled conditions can be attributed solely to the fact that
the participants in the study are given special attention and that they are enjoying a novel,
interesting experience. This can be referred to as:
A. social facilitation.
B. the paradigm effect.
C. groupthink.
D. the Hawthorne effect.

1-10
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

44. Which one of the following variables is NOT responsible for separating the old human
relations movement and the evidence-based approach to the field of organizational behavior?
A. Experimental design
B. Nature of employment
C. Group dynamics
D. Styles of leadership and supervision

45. Organizational behavior researchers strive to attain all of the following hallmarks of any
science EXCEPT:
A. prediction.
B. understanding/explanation.
C. control.
D. diversification.

46. _____ is based on the idea, "An average of two contradicting management study results is
probably the best estimate of how well or not that management technique works."
A. Experimental design
B. Meta-analysis
C. Controlling factors
D. Law of averages

47. The reason for the existence of the many theories in the field of organizational behavior is
due to the _____ of the variables involved.
A. objectivity and multidimensionality
B. variance and complexity
C. logicality and unidirectional behavior
D. complexity and multidimensionality

48. _____ go hand in hand in evidence-based management.

A. Theory and research
B. Theory and meta-analysis
C. Assumption and facts
D. Meta-analysis and research

1-11
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

49. Which of the following is NOT among the three most often used designs in organizational
behavior research today?
A. The questionnaire
B. The case
C. The survey
D. The experiment

50. Which of the following involves the manipulation of independent variables to measure
their effect on, or the change in, dependent variables, while everything else is held constant or
controlled?
A. The survey
B. The case
C. The experiment
D. The questionnaire

51. The _____ employed are/is the key to the successful use of the experimental design.
A. variables
B. controls
C. creativity
D. personnel

52. Which of the following tends to be more theoretically oriented and at the macro level of
analysis?
A. Organizational behavior
B. Organization theory
C. Organization development
D. Human resource management

53. Which of the following tends to be more application oriented and at the macro level of
analysis?
A. Organizational behavior
B. Organization theory
C. Organization development
D. Human resource management

1-12
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

54. Which of the following tends to be more theoretically oriented and at the micro level of
analysis?
A. Organizational behavior
B. Organization theory
C. Organization development
D. Human resource management

55. Which of the following tends to be more application oriented and at the micro level of
analysis?
A. Organizational behavior
B. Organization theory
C. Organization development
D. Human resource management

56. The cognitive approach uses concepts all of the following concepts EXCEPT:
A. expectancy.
B. attitude.
C. demand.
D. intention.

57. Applied to the field of organizational behavior, a cognitive approach has traditionally
dominated all of the following units of analysis EXCEPT:
A. personality and attitudes.
B. motivation.
C. goal setting.
D. research analysis.

1-13
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

58. Which of the following is NOT a true statement about behavioristic framework?
A. Ivan Pavlov and John B. Watson used classical conditioning experiments to formulate the
stimulus-response (S-R) explanation of human behavior.
B. Ivan Pavlov and John B. Watson concentrated mainly on the impact of the stimulus and
felt that learning occurred when the R-S connection was made.
C. Skinner believed that the consequences of a response could better explain most behaviors
than eliciting stimuli could.
D. For Skinner, behavior is a function of its contingent environmental consequences.

59. According to social learning, behavior can best be explained in terms of a continuous
reciprocal interaction among all of the following determinants EXCEPT:
A. cognitive.
B. behavioral.
C. motivational.
D. environmental.

60. The cognitive part of the SCT recognizes the influential contribution of thought processes
to all of the following EXCEPT human:
A. motivation.
B. attitudes.
C. action.
D. perceptions.

61. Bill is a trainee executive in an accounting firm. He knows that in order to do well in his
career, he needs to perform well. He has set internal standards for himself so that he can
evaluate the discrepancy between the standard and the performance in order to improve it.
A. Forethought
B. Symbolizing
C. Self-regulatory
D. Self-reflective

1-14
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

62. Peter is a new marketing research executive in a reputed marketing firm. During the first
week of his work, he finds out about the performance of his peers and supervisor and what
they receive for it. According to Bandura's Social Cognitive Theory, which human capability
is Peter concentrating on?
A. Forethought
B. Observational
C. Symbolizing
D. Self-reflective

63. Travis is a new recruit in an advertising firm. During his first week of work, he plans his
actions, anticipates the consequences, and determines the level of desired performance.
According to Bandura's Social Cognitive Theory, which human capability is Travis
concentrating on?
A. Forethought
B. Symbolizing
C. Self-regulatory
D. Self-reflective

64. Ruth has recently completed her first project as a project manager. She analyses her
project to understand how well it went, to perceptually determine how well she can handle
projects in the future. According to Bandura's Social Cognitive Theory, which human
capability is Ruth concentrating on?
A. Forethought
B. Symbolizing
C. Self-regulatory
D. Self-reflective

1-15
Chapter 01 - Introduction to Organizational Behavior: An Evidence-Based Approach

Essay Questions

65. Discuss the importance given to employees in organizations over time.

66. Define paradigm. What are the recent causes for a paradigm shift? What are its
consequences?

67. What is paradigm effect? What are its consequences?

68. What is the manager's perception of employees according to Theory X? Does this
approach still work? Why? What is the assumption of the new perspective?

1-16
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held his beloved in his arms with an embrace that was both
passionate and yearning, whilst overhead the nightingale trilled its
sweet, sad melody. Nicolette stood quite still, dry-eyed and numb.
Awhile ago she had been sure that if only she could think that Tan-
tan was happy, she could go through life with a lighter heart. Well!
she had her wish! there was happiness, absolute, radiant happiness
expressed in that embrace. Tan-tan was happy, and his loved one lay
passive in his arms, whilst the song of the nightingale spoke unto his
soul promises of greater happiness still. And Nicolette closed her
eyes, because the picture before her seemed to sear her very heart-
strings and wrench them out of her breast. She stuffed her
handkerchief into her mouth, because a desperate cry of pain had
risen to her throat. Then, turning suddenly, she ran and ran down
the slope, away, away as far away as she could from that haunting
picture of Tan-tan and his happiness.
 CHAPTER VIII
CHRISTMAS EVE

I t was a very rare thing indeed for discord to hold sway at the mas.
Perfect harmony reigned habitually between Jaume Deydier, his
daughter and the old servant who had loved and cared for her ever
since Nicolette had been a tiny baby, laid in Margaï’s loving arms by
the hands of the dying mother.
Jaume Deydier was, of course, master in his own house. In
Provence, old traditions still prevail, and the principles of
independence and equality bred by the Revolution had never
penetrated into these mountain fastnesses, where primitive and
patriarchal modes of life gave all the happiness and content that the
women of the old country desired. That Nicolette had been indulged
and petted both by her father and her old nurse, was only natural.
The child was pretty, loving, lovable and motherless; the latter being
the greater claim on her father’s indulgence. As for Margaï, she was
Nicolette’s slave, even though she grumbled and scolded and
imagined that she ruled the household and ordered the servants
about at the mas, in exactly the same manner as old Madame
ordered hers over at the château.
From which it may be gathered that on the whole it was Nicolette
who usually had her way in the house. But for the last two days she
had been going about with a listless, dispirited air, whilst Jaume
Deydier did nothing but frown, and Margaï’s mutterings were as
incessant as they were for the most part unintelligible.
“I cannot understand you, Mossou Deydier,” she said more than
once to her master, “one would think you wanted to be rid of the
child.”
 “Don’t be a fool, Margaï,” was Deydier’s tart response. But Margaï
was not to be silenced quite so readily. She had been fifty years in the
service of the Deydiers, and had—as she oft and picturesquely put it
—turned down Mossou Jaume’s breeches many a time when he
sneaked into her larder and stole the jam she had just boiled, or the
honey she had recently gathered from the hives. Oh, no! she was not
going to be silenced—not like that.
“If the child loved him,” she went on arguing, “I would not say
another word. But she has told you once and for all that she does not
care for young Barnadou, and does not wish to marry.”
“Oh!” Jaume Deydier rejoined with a shrug of his wide shoulders,
“girls always say that at first. She is not in love with any one else, I
suppose!”
“God forbid!” Margaï exclaimed, so hastily that the wooden spoon
wherewith she had been stirring the soup a moment ago fell out of
her hand with a clatter.
“There, now!” she said tartly, “you quite upset me with your silly
talk. Nicolette in love? With whom, I should like to know?”
“Well then,” Deydier retorted.
“Well then what?”
“Why should she refuse Ameyric? He loves her. He would suit me
perfectly as a son-in-law. What has the child got against him?”
“But can’t you wait, Mossou Jaume?” Margaï would argue. “Can’t
you wait? Why, the child is not yet nineteen.”
“My wife was seventeen when I married her,” Deydier retorted.
“And I would like to see Nicolette tokened before the fêtes. I was
affianced to my wife two days before Noël, we had the gros soupé at
her parents’ house on Christmas Eve, and walked together to
midnight Mass.”
“And two years later she was in her coffin,” Margaï muttered.
“What has that to do with it? Thou’rt a fool, Margaï.” Whereupon
Margaï, feeling that in truth her last remark had been neither logical
nor kind, reverted to her original argument: “One would think you
wanted to be rid of the child, Mossou Jaume.”
And the whole matter would be gone through all over again from
the beginning, and Jaume Deydier would lose his temper and say
harsh things which he regretted as soon as they had crossed his lips,
and Margaï would continue to argue and to exasperate him, until,
luckily, Nicolette would come into the room and perch on her
father’s knee, and smother further arguments by ruffling up his hair,
or putting his necktie straight, or merely throwing her arms around
his neck.

This all occurred two days before Christmas. There had been a fall
of snow way up in the mountains, and Luberon wore a white cap
upon his crest. The mistral had come once or twice tearing down the
valley, and in the living-rooms at the mas huge fires of olive and
eucalyptus burned in the hearths. Margaï had been very busy
preparing the food for the gros soupé, the traditional banquet of
Christmas Eve in old Provence, and which Jaume Deydier offered
every year to forty of his chief employés. Nicolette now was also
versed in the baking and roasting of the calènos, the fruits and cakes
which would be distributed to all the men employed at the farm and
to their families: and even Margaï was forced to admit that the
Poumpo taillado—the national cake, baked with sugar and oil—was
never so good as when Nicolette mixed it herself.
Of Ameyric Barnadou there was less and less talk as the festival
drew nigh. Margaï and Nicolette were too busy to argue, and Jaume
Deydier sat by his fireside in somewhat surly silence. He could not
understand his own daughter. Ah ça! what did the child want? What
had she to say against young Barnadou? Every girl had to marry
some time, then why not Nicolette?
But he said nothing more for a day or two. His pet scheme that the
fiançailles should be celebrated on Christmas Eve had been knocked
on the head by Nicolette’s obstinacy, but Jaume hoped a great deal
from the banquet, the calignaou, and above all, from the midnight
Mass. Nicolette was very gentle and very sentimental, and Ameyric
so very passionately in love. The boy would be a fool if he could not
make the festivals, the procession, the flowers, the candles, the
incense to be his helpmates in his wooing.
On Christmas Eve Jaume Deydier’s guests were assembled in the
hall where the banquet was also laid: the more important overseers
and workpeople of his olive oil and orange-flower water factories
were there, some with their wives and children.
Jaume Deydier, in the beautiful bottle-green cloth coat which he
had worn at his wedding, and which he wore once every year for the
Christmas festival, his grey hair and his whiskers carefully brushed,
his best paste buckles on his shoes, shook every one cordially by the
hand; beside him Nicolette, in silk kirtle and lace fichu, smiled and
chatted, proud to be the châtelaine of this beautiful home, the queen
of this little kingdom amongst the mountains, the beneficent fairy to
whom the whole country-side looked if help or comfort or material
assistance was required. Around her pressed the men and the women
and the children who had come to the feast. There was old Tiberge,
the doyen of the staff over at Pertuis, whose age had ceased to be
recorded, it had become fabulous: there was Thibaut, the chief
overseer, with his young wife who had her youngest born by the
hand. There was Zacharie, the chief clerk, who was tokened to
Violante, the daughter of Laugier the cashier. They were all a big
family together: had seen one another grow up, marry, have children,
and their children had known one another from their cradles. Jaume
Deydier amongst them was like the head of the family, and no
seigneur over at the château had ever been so conscious of his own
dignity. As for Nicolette, she was just the little fairy whom they had
seen growing from a lovely child into an exquisite woman, their
Nicolette, of whom every girl was proud, and with whom every lad
was in love.
The noise in the hall soon became deafening. They are neither a
cold nor a reserved race, these warm-hearted children of sunny
Provence. They carry their hearts on their sleeves: they talk at the top
of their voices, and when they laugh they shake the old rafters of
their mountain homes with the noise. And Christmas Eve was the
day of all days. They all loved the gifts of the calènos, the dried fruits
and cakes which the patron distributed with a lavish hand, and
which they took home to their bairns or to those less fortunate
members of their families who were not partakers of Deydier’s
hospitality. But they adored the Poumpo taillado, the sweet, oily
cake that no one baked better than demoiselle Nicolette. And the
banquet would begin with bouillabaisse which was concocted by
Margaï from an old recipe that came direct from Marseilles, and
there would be turkeys and geese from Deydier’s splendid farmyard,
and salads and artichokes served with marrow fat. Already the men
were smacking their lips; manners not being over-refined in
Provence, where Nature alone dictates how a man shall behave,
without reference to what his neighbours might think. There was a
cheery fire, too, in the monumental hearth, and the shutters behind
the windows being hermetically closed, the atmosphere presently
became steaming and heady with the smell of good food and the
aroma from the huge, long-necked bottles of good Roussillon wine.
But every one there knew that, before they could sit down to table,
the solemn rite of the Calignaou must be gone through. As soon as
the huge clock that stood upon the mantelshelf had finished striking
six, old Tiberge, whose first birthday was lost in the nebulæ of time,
stepped out from the little group that encircled him, and took tiny
Savinien, the four-year-old son of the chief overseer, by the hand:
December leading January, Winter coupled with Spring; Jaume
Deydier put a full bumper of red wine in the little fellow’s podgy
hand: and together these two, the aged and the youngster, toddled
with uncertain steps out of the room, followed by the entire party.
They made their way to the entrance door of the house, on the
threshold of which a huge log of olive wood had in the meanwhile
been placed. Guided by his mother, little Savinien now poured some
of the wine over the log, whilst, prompted by Nicolette, his baby lips
lisped the traditional words:
“Alègre, Diou nous alègre
Cachofué ven, tout ben ven
Diou nous fagué la graci de voir l’an qué ven
Se sian pas mai, siguen pas men.”[1]

1. Let us be merry! God make us merry! Hidden fires come, all good things
come! May God give us grace to see the coming year. If there be not more of us, let
there not be fewer.
After which the bumper of wine was handed round and every one
drank. Still guided by his mother, the child then took hold of one end
of the Provençal Yule log, and the old man of the other, and together
they marched back to the dining-hall and solemnly deposited the log
in the hearth, where it promptly began to blaze.
 Thus by this quaint old custom did they celebrate the near advent
of the coming year. The old man and the child, each a symbol—
Tiberge of the past, little Savinien of the future, the fire of the Yule
log the warmth of the sun. Every one clapped their hands, the noise
became deafening, and Jaume Deydier’s stentorian voice, crying: “A
table, les amis!” could scarce be heard above the din. After that they
all sat at the table and the business of the banquet began.
Nicolette alone was silent, smiling, outwardly as merry as any of
them; she sat at the head of her father’s table, and went about her
duties as mistress of the house with that strange sense of unreality
that had haunted her this past year still weighing on her heart.
In the years of her childhood—the years that were gone—Tan-tan
and Micheline were always allowed to come and spend Christmas
Eve at the mas. Even grandmama, dour, haughty grandmama,
realised the necessity of allowing children to be gay and happy on
what is essentially the children’s festival. So Tan-tan and Micheline
used to come, and for several years it was Tan-tan who used to pour
the wine over the log, and he was so proud because he knew the
prescribed ditty by heart, and never had to be prompted. He spoke
them with such an air, that she, Nicolette, who was little more than a
baby then, would gaze on him wide-eyed with admiration. And one
year there had been a great commotion, because old Métastase, who
was said to be one hundred years old, and whose hands trembled like
the leaves of the old aspen tree down by the Lèze, had dropped the
log right in the middle of the floor, and the women had screamed,
and even the men were scared, as it was supposed to be an evil omen:
but Tan-tan was not afraid. He just stood there, and as calm as a
young god commanded Métastase to pick up the log again, and when
it was at last safely deposited upon the hearth, he had glanced round
at the assembled company and remarked coolly: “It is not more
difficult than that!” whereupon every one had laughed, and the
incident was forgotten.
Then another time——
But what was the good of thinking about all that? They were gone,
those dear, good times. Tan-tan was no more. He was M. le Comte de
Ventadour, affianced to a beautiful girl whom he loved so
passionately, that at even when he held her in his arms, the
nightingale came out of his retreat amidst the branches of mimosa
trees and sang a love song as an accompaniment to the murmur of
her kisses.

Soon after eleven o’clock the whole party set out to walk to
Manosque for the midnight Mass at the little church there. Laughing,
joking, singing, the merry troup wound its way along the road that
leads up to the village perched upon the mountain-side, girls and
boys with their arms around each other, older men and women
soberly bringing up the rear. Overhead the canopy of the sky of a
luminous indigo was studded with stars, and way away in the east
the waning moon, cool and mysterious, shed its honey-coloured
lustre over mountain peaks and valley, picked out the winding road
with its fairy-light, till it gleamed lemon-golden like a ribbon against
the leafy slopes, and threw fantastic shadows in the way of the lively
throng. Some of them sang as they went along, for your Provençal
has the temperament of the South in its highest degree, and when he
is happy he bursts into song. And to-night the pale moon was golden,
the blue of the sky like a sheet of sapphire and myriads of stars
proclaimed the reign of beauty and of poesy: the night air was mild,
with just a touch in it of snow-cooled breeze that came from over
snow-capped Luberon: it was heavy with the fragrance of pines and
eucalyptus and rosemary which goes to the head like wine. So men
and maids, as they walked, held one another close, and their lips met
in the pauses of their song.
But Nicolette walked with her girl-friends, those who were not yet
tokened. She was as merry as any of them, she chatted and she
laughed, but she did not join in the song. To-night of all nights was
one of remembrance of past festivals when she was a baby and her
father carried her to midnight Mass, with Tan-tan trotting manfully
by his side: sometimes it would be very cold, the mistral would be
blowing across the valley and Margaï would wind a thick red scarf
around her head and throat. And once, only once—it snowed, and
Tan-tan would stop at the road side and gather up the snow and
throw it at the passers-by.
Memory was insistent. Nicolette would have liked to smother it in
thoughts of the present, in vague hopes of the future, but every turn
of the road, every tree, and every boulder, even the shadows that
lengthened and diminished at her feet as she walked, were arrayed
against forgetfulness.

The little church at Manosque (crude in architecture, tawdry in

decoration, ugly if measured by the canons of art and good taste) is
never really unlovely. On days of great festivals it was even beautiful,
filled as it was to overflowing with picturesque people, whose loving
hands had helped to adorn the sacred edifice with all that nature
yielded for the purpose: branches of grey-leaved eucalyptus and
tender twigs of lavender, great leafy masses of stiff carob and
feathery mimosa and delicate branches of red or saffron flowered
grevillea, all tied with gaudy ribbons around the whitewashed pillars
or nestling in huge, untidy bouquets around the painted effigy of the
Virgin. In one corner of the little church, the traditional crêche had
been erected: the manger against a background of leaves and stones,
with the figures of Mary, and the Sacred Infant, of St. Joseph and the
Kings. All very naïve and very crude, but tender and lovable, and
romantic as are the people of this land of sunshine and poesy.
For midnight Mass, the little building was certainly too small to
hold all the worshippers, so they overflowed into the porch, the
organ-loft and the vestry; and those who found no place inside,
remained standing in the road listening to the singing and the bells.
The women in their gaudy shawls, orange, green, blue, magenta,
looked like a parterre of riotous coloured flowers in the body of the
church, while the men in their best clothes were squeezed against the
walls or jammed into the corners, taking up as little of the room as
they could.
Nicolette knelt beside her father. On entering the church she had
seen Ameyric, who obviously had been in wait for her and offered her
the Holy water as she entered. His eyes had devoured her, and
despite his sense of reverence and the solemnity of the occasion, his
hand had closed over her fingers when she took the Holy water from
him. When Father Fournier began saying Mass, Nicolette bowed her
head between her hands and prayed with all her heart and soul that
Ameyric might find another girl who would be worthy of him and
return his love. She prayed too, and prayed earnestly that Bertrand
might continue to be happy with his beloved and that he should
never know a moment’s disappointment or repining. Nicolette had
been taught by Father Fournier that it was part of a Christian girl’s
duty to love every one, even her enemies, and to pray for them
earnestly, for le Bon Dieu would surely know if prayers were not
sincere. So Nicolette forced herself to think kindly of Rixende, to
remember her only as she had last seen her that evening in May,
when she lay quite placid in Bertrand’s arms, with her head upon his
breast and with the nightingale trilling away for dear life over her
head.
So persistently did Nicolette think of this picture that she
succeeded in persuading herself that the thought made her happy,
and then she realised that her face was wet with tears.
Father Fournier preached a sermon all about humility and
obedience and the example set by the Divine Master, and Nicolette
wondered if it was not perhaps her duty to do as her father wished
and to marry Ameyric Barnadou? Oh! it was difficult, very difficult,
and Nicolette thought how much more simple it would be if le Bon
Dieu was in the habit of telling people exactly what He wished them
to do. The feeling of unreality once more came over her. She sat with
eyes closed while Father Fournier went on talking, talking, and the
air grew hotter, more heavy every moment with the fumes of the
incense, the burning candles, the agitated breath of hundreds of
entranced village folk. The noise, the smell, the rising clouds of
incense all became blurred to her eyes, her ears, her nostrils: only the
past remained quite real, as she had lived it before the awful, awful
day when Tan-tan went out of her life, the past with its dragons, and
distressful maidens, and woods redolent with rosemary and groves of
citron-blossoms, the past as she had lived it with Tan-tan and
Micheline, those happy Christmases of old.
Tan-tan, who was a wilful, fidgety boy, was always good when he
came to midnight Mass. Nicolette with eyes closed and Father
Fournier’s voice droning in her ears, could see him now sitting quite,
quite still with Micheline on one side of him, and her, Nicolette, on
the other. And they, the three children, sat agape while the offertory
procession wound its way through the crowded church. She felt that
she was a baby again, and that her tiny feet could not touch the
ground, and her wee hands kept reaching out to touch Tan-tan’s
sleeve or his knee. Ah, that beautiful, that exciting procession! The
children craned their little necks to see above the heads of the crowd,
and Jaume Deydier would take his little girl in his arms and set her
to stand upon his knee, so that she might see everything; Micheline
would stand up with Margaï’s arm around her to keep her steady, but
Tan-tan’s pride would have a long struggle with his curiosity. He
would remain seated just like a grown man and pretend that he could
see quite well; and this pretence he would keep up for a long while,
although Nicolette would exclaim from time to time in that loud
hoarse whisper peculiar to children:
“Tan-tan, stand on your chair! It is lovely!”
Then at last Tan-tan would give in and stand up on his chair, after
which Nicolette felt that she could set to and enjoy the procession
too. First the band of musicians with beribboned tambours, bagpipes
and clarinets: then a group of young men, goatherds from Luberon
or Vaucluse, carrying huge baskets of fruits and live pigeons: after
which a miniature cart entirely covered with leafy branches of olive
and cypress with lighted candles set all along its sides, and drawn by
a lamb, whose snow-white fleece was adorned with tiny bunches of
coloured ribbons; behind this cart a group of girls wearing the
Garbalin, a tall conical head-dress adorned with tiny russet apples
and miniature oranges: finally a band of singers, singing the
Christmas hymns.
The children would get so excited at sight of the lamb and the little
cart, that their elders had much ado to keep them from clapping their
hands or shouting with glee, which would have been most unseemly
in the sacred building.
Then, when the procession was over, they would scramble back
into their seats and endure the rest of the Mass as best they could.
Nicolette saw it all through the smoke of incense, the flaring candles
and the thick, heady air. That was reality! not the dreary present with
Tan-tan gone out of Nicolette’s life, and a beautiful stranger with
golden hair and gentian-blue eyes shouting petulantly at him or
feigning love which she was too selfish to feel. That surely could not
be reality: the Bon Dieu was too good to treat Tan-tan so.
And as if to make the past more real still, the sound of fife and
bagpipe and tambour struck suddenly upon Nicolette’s ear. She
looked up and there was the procession just starting to go round the
church, the baskets with the live pigeons, the little cart, the white
lamb with its fleece all tied up with ribbons: the same procession
which Nicolette had watched from the point of vantage of her father’s
knee sixteen years ago, and had watched every year since—at first by
Tan-tan’s side, then with him gone, and the whole world a dreary
blank to her.
Was this then what life really meant? The same things over and
over again, year after year, till one grew old, till one grew not to care?
Did life mean loneliness and watching the happiness of others, while
one’s own heart was so full that it nearly broke? Then, if that was the
case, why not do as father wished and marry Ameyric?
 CHAPTER IX
THE TURNING POINT

T he first inkling that Nicolette had of the happenings at the

château was on Christmas Day itself after High Mass. When she
came out of church with her father some of the people had already
got hold of the news: those who had arrived late had heard of it as
they came along, and with that agitation which comes into even,
monotonous lives whenever the unexpected occurs, groups of village
folk stood about outside the church, and instead of the usual chaff
and banter, every one talked only of the one thing: the events at the
château.
“What? You have not heard?”
“No, what is it?”
“A death in the family.”
“Holy Virgin, who?”
“The old Comtesse? She is very old!”
“The Comtesse Marcelle? She is always sick!”
“No one knows.”
Nicolette, vaguely frightened, questioned those who seemed to
know best. Mais, voilà! no one knew anything definite, although one
or two averred that they had seen a man on horseback go up to the
château, soon after dawn. This detail did not calm Nicolette’s fears.
On the contrary. If the sad news had come from a distance ... from
Paris, for example.... Oh! it was unthinkable! But already she had
made up her mind. After midday dinner she would go and see
Micheline. It was but a short walk to the château, and surely father
could spare her for an hour or two.
 Jaume Deydier was obdurate at first. What had Nicolette to do
with the château? Their affairs were no concern of hers. He himself
never set foot inside that old owl’s nest, and he had hoped that by
now Nicolette had had enough of those proud, ungrateful folk. If they
had trouble at the mas, would some one from the château come over
to see what was amiss? But Nicolette held on to her idea. If Micheline
was in trouble she would have no one to comfort her. Even father
could not object to her friendship with Micheline, dear, misshapen,
gentle Micheline!—and then there was the Comtesse Marcelle! If the
old Comtesse spoke to either of them at all, it would only be to say
unkind things! Oh! it was terrible to think of those three women at
the château, faced with trouble, and with no one to speak to but one
another. And until recently—the last two years, in fact—Nicolette had
always gone over to the château on Christmas afternoon to offer
Christmas greetings and calènos from the mas, in the shape of
oranges, lemons, tangerines, and a beautiful Poumpo taillado, baked
by herself. And now when Micheline was perhaps in trouble, and she,
Nicolette, pining to know what the trouble was oh! father could not
be so cruel as to stop her going.
No doubt Deydier would have remained obdurate, but just at that
moment he happened to catch sight of Ameyric. The lad was
standing close by, an eager expression on his face, and—if such an
imputation could be laid at the door of so sober a man as Jaume
Deydier—one might almost say that an imp of mischief seized hold of
him and whispered advice which he was prompt to take.
“Well, boy!” he called over to Ameyric; “what do you say? Will you
call for Nicolette after dinner, and walk with her to the château?”
“Aye! and escort her back,” Ameyric replied eagerly, “if
Mademoiselle Deydier will allow.”
After which the father gave the required permission, mightily
satisfied with his own diplomacy. He had always believed in
Christmas festivals for bringing lads and maidens together, and he
himself had been tokened on Christmas Eve.
Ameyric shook him warmly by the hand: “Thank you, Mossou
Deydier,” he murmured.
“Well, boy,” Deydier retorted in a whisper, “it should be to-day
with you, or I fear me it will be never.”
 Whenever she thought over the sequence of events which had their
beginning on that Christmas morning, Nicolette always looked upon
that climb up to the château as a blank. She could not even have told
you if it was cold or warm. She wore her beautiful orange-coloured
shawl with the embroidery and deep fringe, and she had on shoes
that were thoroughly comfortable for the long tramp up the road. She
knew that Ameyric helped her to carry the baskets that contained the
fruits and cakes; she also knew that at times he talked a great deal,
and that at others there were long silences between them. She knew
that she was very, very sorry for Ameyric, because love that is not
reciprocated is the most cruel pain that can befall any man. She also
tried to remember what Father Fournier had said in his sermon at
midnight Mass, and her own firm resolution not to hate her enemies,
and to submit her selfish will to the wishes of her father.
Now and again friends overtook them and walked with them a
little way, or others coming from Pertuis met them and exchanged
greetings.
The roads between the villages round about here are always busy
at Christmas time with people coming and going to and fro, from
church, or one another’s houses, and Ameyric, who grumbled when a
chattering crowd came to disturb his tête-à-tête with Nicolette, had
to own that, but for the roads being so busy, he would not perhaps
have been allowed to walk at this hour with Nicolette.
And people who saw them that afternoon spread the news abroad.
“Ameyric Barnadou,” they said, “will be tokened before the New
Year to Nicolette Deydier.”
Father Siméon-Luce was just leaving the château when Nicolette
arrived there with Ameyric. Jasmin was at the door, and the old
priest said something to him, and then put on his hat. Ameyric was
waiting in the court-yard, and Nicolette, with a basket on each arm,
had gone up to the main entrance door alone. She curtsied to the
priest, who nodded to her in an absent-minded manner.
“Very sad, very sad,” he murmured abstractedly, “but only to be
expected.” Then he seemed to become aware of Nicolette’s identity,
and added kindly:
“You have come to see Mademoiselle Micheline, my child? Ah! a
very sad Christmas for them all.”
 But somehow Nicolette felt that these were conventional words,
and that if there had been real sorrow at the château, Father Siméon-
Luce would have looked more sympathetic. Somewhat reassured
already, Nicolette waited till the old priest had gone across the court-
yard, then she slipped in through the great door and spoke to
Jasmin:
“Who is it, Jasmin?” she asked excitedly.
“Madame de Mont-Pahon,” the old man replied, and Nicolette was
conscious of an immense feeling of relief. She had not realised
herself until this moment how desperately anxious she had been.
“She died, it seems, the night before last, in Paris,” Jasmin went on
glibly, “but how the news came here early this morning, I do not
pretend to know, Mam’zelle Nicolette,” he added in an awed whisper,
“it must be through the devil’s agency.”
Jasmin had never even tried to fathom the mysteries of the new
aerial telegraph which of late had been extended as far as Avignon,
and which brought news from Paris quicker than a man could ride
from Pertuis. The devil, in truth, had something to do with that, and
Jasmin very much hoped that Father Siméon-Luce had taken the
opportunity of exorcising those powers of darkness whilst he ate his
Christmas dinner with the family.
“Can I see Mademoiselle Micheline?” Nicolette broke in
impatiently on the old man’s mutterings.
“Yes, yes, mam’zelle! Mademoiselle Micheline must be somewhere
about the house. But mam’zelle must excuse me—we—we—are busy
in the kitchen——”
“Yes, yes, go, Jasmin! I’ll find my way.”
It was now late in the afternoon, and twilight was drawing rapidly
in; while Jasmin shuffled off in one direction Nicolette made her way
through the vestibule. It was very dark, for candles were terribly dear
these days, but Nicolette knew every flagstone, every piece of
furniture in the familiar old place, and she made her way cautiously
toward the great hall, where hung the portraits. A buzz of
conversation came from there. Then and only then did Nicolette
realise what a foolish thing she had done. How would she dare thrust
herself in the midst of the family circle at a moment like this? She
had taken to living of late so much in the past that she had not
realised how unwelcome she was at the château: but now she
remembered: she remembered the last time she had been here, and
how the old Comtesse had not even spoken to her, whilst Bertrand’s
fiancée had made cutting remarks about her. She looked down
ruefully on her baskets, feeling that her cakes would no more be
appreciated than herself. A furious desire seized her to turn back and
to run away: but she would leave the calènos with Jasmin, for she
would be ashamed to own to her father what a coward she had been.
Already she had made a movement to go, when a name spoken over
there in the portrait gallery fell on her ear.
“Bertrand.”
Instinctively Nicolette paused: there was magic in the name: she
could not go whilst its echo lingered in the old hall.
“It need make no difference to Bertrand’s plans,” the old Comtesse
was saying in that hard, decisive tone which seemed to dispose of the
destinies of her whole family.
Hers was the only voice that penetrated as far as the vestibule
where Nicolette had remained standing; the soft, wearied tones of
the Comtesse Marcelle, and the uncertain ones of Micheline did not
reach the listener’s ears.
“No. Perhaps not for the New Year,” the old Comtesse said
presently in response to a remark from one of the others; “but soon,
you may be sure. The will will be read directly after the funeral, and
there is no reason why Bertrand should not be here a week later.”
Again there was a pause, during which all that Nicolette heard was
a weary sigh. Then Madame’s harsh voice was raised again.
“You are a fool, my good Marcelle! What should go wrong, I should
like to know?...”
Then once more a pause and presently a loud, hard laugh.
“Pardi! but I should not have credited you with such a talent for
raising bogeys, my dear. Have I not told you, over and over again,
that I had Sybille de Mont-Pahon’s definite promise that the two
young people shall be co-heirs of her fortune? Instead of lamenting
there, you should rejoice. Sybille has died most opportunely, for now
Bertrand can pay his debts even before his marriage, and the young
couple can make a start without a cloud upon the horizon of their
lives!”
 At this point Nicolette felt that she had no right to listen further.
She deposited her two baskets upon the table in the vestibule, and
tiptoed back to the door. Even as she did so she heard old Madame’s
unpleasant voice raised once more.
“You should thank me on your knees,” she said tartly, “for all I
have done. Debts, you call them? and dare to upbraid me for having
contracted them? Let me tell you this: Rixende de Peyron-Bompar
would never have tolerated this old barrack at all, had she seen it as
it was. The stuffs which I bought, the carpets, the liveries for those
loutish servants were so much capital invested to secure the Mont-
Pahon millions. What did they amount to? Five thousand louis at
most! and we have secured five millions and Bertrand’s happiness.”
And Nicolette, as she finally ran out of the house, heard a murmur,
like a sigh of longing:
“God grant it!”
But she was not quite sure whether the sound came from the old
picture hall, or was just the echo of the wish that had risen from her
heart.
Outside she met Ameyric, and he escorted her home. He spoke
again of his love, and she was no longer impatient to hear him talk.
She was intensely sorry for him. If he had the same pain in his heart
that she had, then he was immensely to be pitied: and if it lay in her
power to make one man happy, then surely it was her duty to do so.
But she would make no definite promise.
“Let us wait until the spring,” she said, in answer to an earnest
appeal from him for a quick decision.
“Orange-blossom time?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” she replied.
And with this half-promise he had perforce to be satisfied.
 CHAPTER X
WOMAN TO WOMAN

I t was fourteen days after the New Year. Snow had fallen, and the
mistral had blown for forty-eight hours unmercifully down the
valley. News from Paris had been scanty, but such as they were, they
were reassuring. A courier had come over all the way from Paris on
New Year’s eve, with a letter from Bertrand, giving a few details of
the proposed arrangements for Madame de Mont-Pahon’s funeral,
which was to take place on the feast of the Holy Innocents. The letter
had been written on the day following her death, which had come as
a great shock to everybody, even though she had been constantly
ailing of late. Directly after the funeral, he, Bertrand, would set off
for home in the company of M. de Peyron-Bompar, Rixende’s father,
who desired to talk over the new arrangements that would have to be
made for his daughter’s marriage. The wedding would of course have
to be postponed for a few months, but there was no reason why it
should not take place before the end of the summer, and as Rixende
no longer had a home now in Paris, the ceremonies could well taken
place in Bertrand’s old home.
This last suggestion sent old Madame into a veritable frenzy of
management. The marriage of the last of the de Ventadours should
be solemnised with a splendour worthy of the most noble traditions
of his house. Closeted all day with Pérone, her confidential maid, the
old Comtesse planned and arranged: day after day couriers arrived
from Avignon, from Lyons and from Marseilles, with samples and
designs and suggestions for decorations, for banquets, for
entertainments on a brilliant scale.
A whole fortnight went by in this whirl, old Madame having
apparently eschewed all idea of mourning for her dead sister. There
were consultations with Father Siméon-Luce too, the Bishop of
Avignon must come over to perform the religious ceremony in the
private chapel of the château: fresh altar-frontals and vestments
must be ordered at Arles for the great occasion.
Old Madame’s mood was electrical: Micheline quickly succumbed
to it. She was young, and despite her physical infirmities, she was
woman enough to thrill at thoughts of a wedding, of pretty clothes,
bridal bouquets and banquets. And she loved Rixende! the dainty
fairy-like creature who, according to grandmama’s unerring
judgment, would resuscitate all the past splendours of the old
château and make it resound once more with song and laughter.
Even the Comtesse Marcelle was not wholly proof against the
atmosphere of excitement. Meetings were held in her room, and
more than once she actually gave her opinion on the future choice of
a dress for Micheline, or of a special dish for the wedding banquet.
Bertrand was expected three days after the New Year. Grandmama
had decided that if he and M. de Peyron-Bompar started on the 29th,
the day after the funeral, and they were not delayed anywhere owing
to the weather conditions, they need not be longer than five days on
the way. Whereupon she set to, and ordered Jasmin to recruit a few
lads from La Bastide or Manosque, and to clean out the coach-house
and the stables, and to lay in a provision of straw and forage, as M. le
Comte de Ventadour would be arriving in a few days in his calèche
with four horses and postilions.
Nor were her spirits affected by Bertrand’s non-arrival. The
weather accounted for everything. The roads were blocked. If there
had been a fall of snow here in the south, there must have been
positive avalanches up in the north. And while the Comtesse
Marcelle with her usual want of spirit began to droop once more after
those few days of factitious well-being, old Madame’s energies went
on increasing, her activities never abated. She found in Micheline a
willing, eager help, and a pale semblance of sympathy sprang up
between the young cripple and the stately old grandmother over their
feverish plans for Bertrand’s wedding.
The tenth day after the New Year, the Comtesse Marcelle once
more took to her couch. She had a serious fainting fit in the morning
brought on by excitement when a carriage was heard to rattle along
the road. When the sound died away and she realised that the
carriage had not brought Bertrand, she slid down to the floor like a
poor bundle of rags and was subsequently found, lying unconscious
on the doorstep of her own room, where she had been standing
waiting to clasp Bertrand in her arms.
Grandmama scolded her, tried to revive her spirits by discussing
the decorations of Rixende’s proposed boudoir, but Marcelle had
sunk back into her habitual listlessness and grandmama’s
grandiloquent plans only seemed to exacerbate her nerves. She fell
from one fainting fit into another, the presence of Pérone was hateful
to her, Micheline was willing but clumsy. The next day found her in a
state of fever, wide-eyed, her cheeks of an ashen colour, her thin
hands perpetually twitching, and a look of pathetic expectancy in her
sunken, wearied face. In the end, though grandmama protested and
brought forth the whole artillery of her sarcasm to bear against the
project, Micheline walked over to the mas and begged Nicolette to
come over and help her look after mother, who once or twice, when
she moaned with the pain in her head, had expressed the desire to
have the girl beside her. Of course Jaume Deydier protested, but as
usual Nicolette had her way, and the next day found her installed as
sick-nurse in the room of the Comtesse Marcelle. She only went
home to sleep. It was decided that if the next two days saw no real
improvement in the patient’s condition, a messenger should be sent
over to Pertuis to fetch a physician. For the moment she certainly
appeared more calm, and seemed content that Nicolette should wait
on her.
But on the fourteenth day, even old Madame appeared to be
restless. All day she kept repeating to any one who happened to be
nigh—to Micheline, to Pérone, to Jasmin—that the weather was
accountable for Bertrand’s delay, that he and M. de Peyron-Bompar
would surely be here before nightfall, and that, whatever else
happened, supper must be kept ready for the two travellers and it
must be good and hot.
It was then four o’clock. The volets all along the façade of the
château had been closed, and the curtains closed in all the rooms.
The old Comtesse, impatient at her daughter-in-law’s wan,
reproachful looks, and irritated by Nicolette’s presence in the
invalid’s room, had avoided it all day and kept to her own
apartments, where Pérone, obsequious and sympathetic, was always
ready to listen to her latest schemes and plans. Later on in the
afternoon Micheline had been summoned to take coffee in
grandmama’s room, and as mother seemed inclined to sleep and
Nicolette had promised not to go away till Micheline returned, the
latter went readily enough. The question of Micheline’s own dress for
the wedding was to be the subject of debate, and Micheline, having
kissed her mother, and made Nicolette swear to come and tell her the
moment the dear patient woke, ran over to grandmama’s room.
Nicolette rearranged the pillows round Marcelle’s aching head,
then she sat down by the table, and took up her needlework. After
awhile it certainly seemed as if the invalid slept. The house was very
still. In the hearth a log of olive wood crackled cheerfully. Suddenly
Nicolette looked up from her work. She encountered Marcelle de
Ventadour’s eyes fixed upon her. They looked large, dark, eager.
Nicolette felt that her own heart was beating furiously, and a wave of
heat rushed to her cheeks. She had heard a sound, coming from the
court-yard below—a commotion—the tramp of a horse’s hoofs on the
flagstones—she was sure of that—then the clanking of metal—a shout
—Bertrand’s voice—no doubt of that——
Marcelle had raised herself on her couch: a world of expectancy in
her eyes. Nicolette threw down her work, and in an instant was out of
the room and running along the gallery to the top of the stairs. Here
she paused for a moment, paralysed with excitement: the next she
heard the clang of the bolts being pulled open, the rattling of the
chain, and Jasmin’s cry of astonishment:
“M. le Comte!”
For the space of two seconds Nicolette hesitated between her
longing to run down the stairs so as to be first to wish Tan-tan a
happy New Year, and the wish to go back to the Comtesse Marcelle
and see that the happy shock did not bring on an attack of fainting.
The latter impulse prevailed. She turned and ran back along the
gallery. But Marcelle de Ventadour had forestalled her. She stood on
the threshold of her room, under the lintel. She had a candle in her
hand and seemed hardly able to stand. In the flickering light, her
features looked pinched and her face haggard: her hair was
dishevelled and her eyes seemed preternaturally large. Nicolette ran
to her, and was just in time to clasp the tottering form in her strong,
steady arms.
 “It is all right, madame,” she cried excitedly, her eyes full with
tears of joy, “all right, it is Bertrand!”
“Bertrand,” the mother murmured feebly, and then reiterated,
babbling like a child: “It is all right, it is Bertrand!”
Bertrand came slowly across the vestibule, then more slowly still
up the stairs. The two women could not see him for the moment:
they just heard his slow and heavy footstep coming nearer and
nearer. The well of the staircase was in gloom, only lit by an oil lamp
that hung high up from the ceiling, and after a moment or two
Bertrand came round the bend of the stairs and they saw the top of
his head sunk between his shoulders. His shadow projected by the
flickering lamp-light looked grotesque against the wall, all hunched-
up, like that of an old man.
Nicolette murmured: “I’ll run and tell Micheline and Mme. la
Comtesse!” but suddenly Marcelle drew her back, back into the
room. The girl felt scared: all her pleasure in Bertrand’s coming had
vanished. Somehow she wished that she had not seen him—that it
was all a dream and that Bertrand was not really there. Marcelle had
put the candle down on the table in the centre of the room. Her face
looked very white, but her hands were quite steady; she turned up
the lamp and blew out the candle and set it on one side, then she
drew a chair close to the hearth, but she herself remained standing,
only steadied herself with both her hands against the chair, and
stared at the open doorway. All the while Nicolette knew that she
must not run out and meet Bertrand, that she must not call to him to
hurry. His mother wished that he should come into her room, and
tell her—tell her what? Nicolette did not know.
Now Bertrand was coming along the corridor. He paused one
moment at the door: then he came in. He was in riding breeches and
boots, and the collar of his coat was turned up to his ears: he held his
riding whip in his gloved hand, but he had thrown down his hat, and
his hair appeared moist and dishevelled. On the smooth blue cloth of
his coat, myriads of tiny drops of moisture glistened like so many
diamonds.
“It is snowing a little,” were the first words that he said. “I am
sorry I am so wet.”
“Bertrand,” the mother cried in an agony of entreaty, “what is it?”
 He stood quite still for a moment or two, and looked at her as if he
thought her crazy for asking such a question. Then he came farther
into the room, threw his whip down on the table and pulled off his
gloves: but still he said nothing. His mother and Nicolette watched
him; but Marcelle did not ask again. She just waited. Presently he sat
down on the chair by the hearth, rested his elbows on his knees and
held his hands to the blaze. Nicolette from where she stood could
only see his face in profile: it looked cold and pinched and his eyes
stared into the fire.
“It is all over, mother,” he said at last, “that is all.”
Marcelle de Ventadour went up to her son, and put her thin hand
on his shoulder.
“You mean——?” she murmured.
“Mme. de Mont-Pahon,” he went on in a perfectly quiet, matter-of-
fact tone of voice, “has left the whole of her fortune to her great-niece
Rixende absolutely. Two hours after the reading of the will, M. de
Peyron-Bompar came to me and told me in no measured language
that having heard in what a slough of debt I and my family were
wallowing, he would not allow his daughter’s fortune to be dissipated
in vain efforts to drag us out of that mire. He ended by declaring that
all idea of my marrying Rixende must at once be given up.”
Here his voice shook a little, and with a quick, impatient gesture he
passed his hand across his brows. Marcelle de Ventadour said
nothing for the moment. Her hand was still on his shoulder.
Nicolette, who watched her closely, saw not the faintest sign of
physical weakness in her quiet, silent attitude. Then as Bertrand was
silent too, she asked after awhile:
“Did you speak to Rixende?”
“Did I speak to Rixende?” he retorted, and a hard, unnatural laugh
broke from his parched, choking throat. “My God! until I spoke with
her I had no idea how much humiliation a man could endure, and
survive the shame of it.”
He buried his face in his hands and a great sob shook his bent
shoulders. Marcelle de Ventadour stared wide-eyed into the fire, and
Nicolette, watching Tan-tan’s grief, felt that Mother Earth could not
hold greater misery for any child of hers than that which she endured
at this moment.
 “Rixende did not love you, Bertrand,” the mother murmured dully,
“she never loved you.”
“She must have hated me,” Bertrand rejoined quietly, “and now
she despises me too. You should have heard her laugh, mother, when
I spoke to her of our life here together in the old château——”
His voice broke. Of course he could not bear to speak of it: and
Nicolette had to stand by, seemingly indifferent, whilst she saw great
tears force themselves into his eyes. She longed to put her arms
round him, to draw his head against her cheek, to smooth his hair
and kiss the tears away. Her heart was full with words of comfort, of
hope, of love which, if only she dared, she would have given half her
life to utter. But she was the stranger, the intruder even, at this hour.
Except for the fact that she was genuinely afraid Marcelle de
Ventadour might collapse at any moment, she would have slipped
away unseen. Marcelle for the moment seemed to find in her son’s
grief, a measure of strength such as she had not known whilst she
was happy. She had led such an isolated, self-centred life that she
was too shy now to be demonstrative, and it was pathetic to watch
the effort which she made to try and speak the words of comfort
which obviously hovered on her lips; but nevertheless she stood by
him, with her hand on his shoulder, and something of the magnetism
of her love for him must have touched his senses, for presently he
seized hold of her hand and pressed it against his lips.
The clock above the hearth ticked loudly with a nerve-racking
monotony. The minutes sped on while Bertrand and his mother
stared into the fire, both their minds a blank—grief having erased
every other thought from their brain. Nicolette hardly dared to move.
So far it seemed that Bertrand had remained entirely unaware of her
presence, and in her heart she prayed that he might not see her, lest
he felt his humiliation and his misery more completely if he thought
that she had witnessed it.
After awhile the Comtesse Marcelle said:
“You must be hungry, Bertrand, we’ll let grandmama know you’re
here. She has ordered supper to be ready for you, as soon as you
came.”
Bertrand appeared to wake as if out of a dream.
“Did you speak, mother?” he asked.
 “You must be hungry, dear.”
“Yes—yes!” he murmured vaguely. “Perhaps I am. It was a long
ride from Pertuis—the roads are bad——”
“Grandmama has ordered——”
But quickly Bertrand seized his mother’s hands again. “Don’t tell
grandmama yet,” he said hoarsely. “I—I could not—not yet....”
“But you must be hungry, dear,” the mother insisted, “and
grandmama will have to know,” she added gently. “And there is
Micheline!”
“Yes, I know,” he retorted. “I am a fool—but—— Let us wait a little,
shall we?”
Again he kissed his mother’s hands, but he never once looked up
into her face. Once when the light from the lamp struck full upon
him, Nicolette saw how much older he had grown, and that there was
a look in his eyes as if he was looking into the future, and saw
something there that was tragic and inevitable!
That look frightened her. But what could she do? Some one ought
to be warned and Bertrand should not be allowed to remain alone—
not for one moment. Did the mother realise this? Was this the reason
why she remained standing beside him with her hand on his
shoulder, as if to warn him or to protect?
Five minutes went by, perhaps ten! For Nicolette it was an
eternity. Then suddenly grandmama’s voice was heard from way
down the gallery, obviously speaking to Jasmin:
“Why was I not told at once?”
After which there was a pause, and then footsteps along the
corridor: Micheline’s halting dot and carry one, grandmama’s stately
gait.
“I can’t,” Bertrand said and jumped to his feet. “You tell her,
mother.”
“Yes, yes, my dear,” Marcelle rejoined soothingly, quite gently as if
she were speaking to a sick child.
“Let me get away somewhere,” he went on, “where she can’t see me
—not just yet—I can’t——”
It was Nicolette who ran to the door which gave on Marcelle’s
bedroom, and threw it open.
 “That’s it, my dear,” Marcelle said, and taking Bertrand’s hand she
led him towards the door. “Nicolette is quite right—go into my
bedroom—I’ll explain to grandmama.”
“Nicolette?” Bertrand murmured and turned his eyes on her, as if
suddenly made aware of her presence. A dark flush spread all over
his face. “I didn’t know she was here.”
The two women exchanged glances. They understood one another.
It meant looking after Bertrand, and, if possible, keeping old
Madame from him for a little while.
Bertrand followed Nicolette into his mother’s room. He did not
speak to her again, but sank into a chair as if he were mortally tired.
She went to a cupboard where a few provisions were always kept for
Marcelle de Ventadour, in case she required them in the night: a
bottle of wine and some cake. Nicolette put these on the table with a
glass and poured out the wine.
“Drink it, Bertrand,” she whispered, “it will please your mother.”
Later she went back to the boudoir. Old Madame was standing in
the middle of the room, and as Nicolette entered she was saying
tartly:
“But why was I not told?”
“I was just on the point of sending Nicolette to you, Madame——”
Marcelle de Ventadour said timidly. Her voice was shaking, her face
flushed and she wandered about the room, restlessly fingering the
draperies. Whereupon the old Comtesse raised her lorgnette and
stared at Nicolette.
“Ah!” she said coldly, “Mademoiselle Deydier has not yet gone?”
“She was just going, Madame,” the younger woman rejoined,
“when——”
“Then you have not yet seen Bertrand?” grandmama broke in.
“No,” Marcelle replied, stammering and flushing, “that is——”
“What do you mean by ‘No, ... that is, ...’?” old Madame retorted
sharply. “Ah ça, my good Marcelle, what is all this mystery? Where is
my grandson?”
“He was here a moment ago, he——”
“And where is M. de Peyron-Bompar?”
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