The Blue Castle Gradually Hardening French B2 Translation Books

CHAPTERI

IfithadnotrainedonacertainMaymorningValancyStirling’swholelifewouldhavebeenentirelydifferent.

Shewouldhavegone,withtherestofher

clan

clan,toAuntWellington’sengagement

pique-nique

picnicandDr.TrentwouldhavegonetoMontreal.

Butitdidrainandyoushallhearwhathappenedtoherbecauseofit.

Valancywakenedearly,inthe

sans vie

lifeless,hopelesshourjustprecedingdawn.

Shehadnotsleptverywell.

Onedoesnotsleepwell,sometimes,whenoneistwenty-nineonthemorrow,and

célibataire

unmarried,inacommunityandconnectionwherethe

célibataire

unmarriedaresimplythosewhohavefailedtogetaman.

DeerwoodandtheStirlingshadlongsincerelegatedValancyto

sans espoir

hopelessoldmaidenhood.

ButValancyherselfhadneverquiterelinquishedacertain

pitoyable

pitiful,shamed,littlehopethat

Romance

Romancewouldcomeherwayyet—never,untilthiswet,horriblemorning,whenshewakenedtothefactthatshewastwenty-nineandunsoughtbyanyman.

Ay,therelaythesting.

Valancydidnotmindsomuchbeinganoldmaid.

Afterall,shethought,beinganoldmaidcouldn’tpossiblybeas

terrible

dreadfulasbeingmarriedtoanUncleWellingtonoranUncleBenjamin,orevenanUncleHerbert.

Whathurtherwasthatshehadneverhadachancetobeanythingbutanoldmaid.

Nomanhadeverdesiredher.

Thetearscameintohereyesasshelaytherealoneinthefaintlygreyingdarkness.

Shedarednotletherselfcryashardasshewantedto,fortworeasons.

Shewasafraidthatcryingmightbringonanotherattackofthatpainaroundtheheart.

Shehadhadaspellofitaftershehadgotintobed—ratherworsethananyshehadhadyet.

Andshewasafraidhermotherwouldnoticeherredeyesatbreakfastandkeepatherwithminute,persistent,mosquito-likequestionsregardingthecausethereof.

“Suppose,”thoughtValancywitha

horrible

ghastlygrin,“Iansweredwiththeplaintruth,‘IamcryingbecauseIcannotgetmarried.’HowhorrifiedMotherwouldbe—thoughsheisashamedeverydayofherlifeofheroldmaiddaughter.”

Butofcourseappearancesshouldbekeptup.

“Itisnot,”Valancycouldhearhermother’sprim,dictatorialvoiceasserting,“itisnotmaidenlytothinkaboutmen.”

Thethoughtofhermother’sexpressionmadeValancylaugh—forshehadasenseofhumournobodyinher

clan

clansuspected.

Forthatmatter,therewereagoodmanythingsaboutValancythatnobodysuspected.

Butherlaughterwasvery

superficiel

superficialandpresentlyshelaythere,ahuddled,

futile

futilelittlefigure,listeningtotherainpouringdownoutsideandwatching,withasickdistaste,thechill,

impitoyable

mercilesslightcreepingintoherugly,

sordide

sordidroom.

Sheknewtheuglinessofthatroombyheart—knewitandhatedit.

Theyellow-paintedfloor,withone

hideux

hideous,“hooked”rugbythebed,witha

grotesque

grotesque,“hooked”dogonit,alwaysgrinningatherwhensheawoke;

thefaded,dark-redpaper;

the

plafond

ceilingdiscolouredbyoldleaksandcrossedbycracks;

thenarrow,

pincé

pinchedlittlewashstand;

thebrown-paperlambrequinwithpurplerosesonit;

thespottedoldlooking-glasswiththecrackacrossit,proppeduponthe

inadéquate

inadequatedressing-table;

thejarofancientpotpourrimadebyhermotherinhermythicalhoneymoon;

theshell-coveredbox,withone

éclaté

burstcorner,whichCousinStickleshadmadeinherequallymythicalgirlhood;

thebeadedpincushionwithhalfitsbead

frange

fringegone;

theonestiff,yellowchair;

thefadedold

devise

motto,“Gonebutnotforgotten,”workedincolouredyarnsaboutGreat-grand-motherStirling’s

sombre

grimoldface;

theoldphotographsofancientrelativeslong

bannis

banishedfromtheroomsbelow.

Therewereonlytwopicturesthatwerenotofrelatives.

One,anoldchromoofa

chiot

puppysittingonarainydoorstep.

ThatpicturealwaysmadeValancyunhappy.

Thatforlornlittledogcrouchedonthedoorstepinthedrivingrain!

Whydidn’tsomeoneopenthedoorandlethimin?

Theotherpicturewasafaded,passe-partoutedengravingofQueenLouisecomingdownastairway,whichAuntWellingtonhadlavishlygivenheronher

dixième

tenthbirthday.

Fornineteenyearsshehadlookedatitandhatedit,beautiful,smug,self-satisfiedQueenLouise.

Butsheneverdareddestroyitorremoveit.

MotherandCousinStickleswouldhavebeenaghast,or,asValancyirreverentlyexpresseditinherthoughts,wouldhavehadafit.

Everyroominthehousewasugly,ofcourse.

Butdownstairsappearanceswerekeptupsomewhat.

Therewasnomoneyforroomsnobodyeversaw.

Valancysometimesfeltthatshecouldhavedonesomethingforherroomherself,evenwithoutmoney,ifshewere

permis

permitted.

Buthermotherhadnegativedevery

timide

timidsuggestionandValancydidnot

persisté

persist.

Valancyneverpersisted.

Shewasafraidto.

Hermothercouldnotbrookopposition.

Mrs.Stirlingwouldsulkfordaysifoffended,withtheairsofaninsulted

duchesse

duchess.

TheonlythingValancylikedaboutherroomwasthatshecouldbealonethereatnighttocryifshewantedto.

But,afterall,whatdiditmatterifaroom,whichyouusedfornothingexceptsleepinganddressingin,wereugly?

Valancywasneverpermittedtostayaloneinherroomforanyotherpurpose.

Peoplewhowantedtobealone,soMrs.FrederickStirlingandCousinSticklesbelieved,couldonlywanttobealoneforsome

sinistre

sinisterpurpose.

ButherroomintheBlueCastlewaseverythingaroomshouldbe.

Valancy,socowedandsubduedandoverriddenandsnubbedinreallife,waswonttoletherselfgorathersplendidlyinherday-dreams.

NobodyintheStirling

clan

clan,oritsramifications,suspectedthis,leastofallhermotherandCousinStickles.

TheyneverknewthatValancyhadtwohomes—theuglyredbrickboxofahome,onElmStreet,andtheBlueCastleinSpain.

ValancyhadlivedspirituallyintheBlueCastleeversinceshecouldremember.

Shehadbeenaverytinychildwhenshefoundherselfpossessedofit.

Always,whensheshuthereyes,shecouldseeit

clairement

plainly,withitsturretsandbannersonthepine-cladmountainheight,wrappedinitsfaint,blueloveliness,againstthe

coucher du soleil

sunsetskiesofafairandunknownland.

Everythingwonderfulandbeautifulwasinthatcastle.

Jewelsthatqueensmighthaveworn;

robesof

lune

moonlightandfire;

couchesofrosesandgold;

longflightsofshallow

marbre

marblesteps,withgreat,whiteurns,andwithslender,mist-cladmaidensgoingupanddownthem;

courts,marble-pillared,whereshimmeringfountainsfellandnightingalessangamongthemyrtles;

hallsofmirrorsthat

reflétaient

reflectedonlyhandsomeknightsandlovelywomen—herselftheloveliestofall,forwhose

regard

glancemendied.

Allthatsupportedherthroughtheboredomofherdayswasthehopeofgoingonadreamspreeatnight.

Most,ifnotall,oftheStirlingswouldhavediedofhorroriftheyhadknownhalfthethingsValancydidinherBlueCastle.

Foronethingshehadquiteafewloversinit.

Oh,onlyoneatatime.

Onewhowooedherwithalltheromanticardouroftheageofchivalryandwonherafterlong

dévotion

devotionandmanydeedsofderring-do,andwasweddedtoherwithpompand

circonstance

circumstanceinthegreat,banner-hung

chapelle

chapeloftheBlueCastle.

Attwelve,thisloverwasafair

garçon

ladwithgoldencurlsandheavenlyblueeyes.

Atfifteen,hewastallanddarkand

pâle

pale,butstillnecessarilyhandsome.

Attwenty,hewasascetic,

rêveur

dreamy,spiritual.

Attwenty-five,hehadaclean-cut

mâchoire

jaw,slightlygrim,andafacestrongand

robuste

ruggedratherthanhandsome.

Valancynevergrewolderthantwenty-fiveinherBlueCastle,butrecently—veryrecently—herherohadhadreddish,tawnyhair,a

tordu

twistedsmileandamysteriouspast.

Idon’tsayValancy

délibérément

deliberatelymurderedtheseloversassheoutgrewthem.

Onesimplyfadedawayasanothercame.

ThingsareveryconvenientinthisrespectinBlueCastles.

But,onthismorningofherdayoffate,ValancycouldnotfindthekeyofherBlueCastle.

Realitypressedonhertoohardly,

aboyant

barkingatherheelslikeamaddeninglittledog.

Shewastwenty-nine,lonely,undesired,ill-favoured—theonlyhomelygirlinahandsome

clan

clan,withnopastandnofuture.

Asfarasshecouldlookback,lifewasdrabandcolourless,withnotonesinglecrimsonorpurplespotanywhere.

Asfarasshecouldlookforwarditseemedcertaintobejustthesameuntilshewasnothingbutasolitary,littlewithered

feuille

leafclingingtoawintrybough.

Themomentwhenawomanrealisesthatshehasnothingtolivefor—neitherlove,duty,purposenorhope—holdsforherthebitternessofdeath.

“AndIjusthavetogoonlivingbecauseIcan’tstop.

Imayhavetoliveeightyyears,”thoughtValancy,inakindofpanic.

“We’reallhorriblylong-lived.

Itsickensmetothinkofit.”

Shewasgladitwasraining—orrather,shewasdrearilysatisfiedthatitwasraining.

Therewouldbeno

pique-nique

picnicthatday.

Thisannual

pique-nique

picnic,wherebyAuntandUncleWellington—onealwaysthoughtoftheminthatsuccession—inevitablycelebratedtheir

fiançailles

engagementatapicnicthirtyyearsbefore,hadbeen,oflateyears,averitablenightmaretoValancy.

Byanimpishcoincidenceitwasthesamedayasherbirthdayand,aftershehadpassedtwenty-five,nobodyletherforgetit.

Muchasshehatedgoingtothe

pique-nique

picnic,itwouldneverhaveoccurredtoherto

rebeller

rebelagainstit.

Thereseemedtobenothingofthe

révolutionnaire

revolutionaryinhernature.

Andsheknewexactlywhateveryonewouldsaytoheratthe

pique-nique

picnic.

UncleWellington,whomshe

détestait

dislikedanddespisedeventhoughhehad

rempli

fulfilledthehighestStirlingaspiration,“marryingmoney,”wouldsaytoherinapig’s

chuchotant

whisper,“Notthinkingofgettingmarriedyet,mydear?”

andthengooffintothebellowoflaughterwithwhichheinvariably

conclu

concludedhisdullremarks.

AuntWellington,ofwhomValancystoodinabjectawe,wouldtellheraboutOlive’snewchiffondressandCecil’slastdevotedletter.

ValancywouldhavetolookaspleasedandinterestedasifthedressandletterhadbeenhersorelseAuntWellingtonwouldbeoffended.

AndValancyhadlongagodecidedthatshewouldrather

offenser

offendGodthanAuntWellington,becauseGodmightforgiveherbutAuntWellingtonneverwould.

AuntAlberta,enormouslyfat,withanamiable

habitude

habitofalwaysreferringtoherhusbandas“he,”asifheweretheonlymalecreatureintheworld,whocouldneverforgetthatshehadbeenagreatbeautyinheryouth,wouldcondolewithValancyonhersallowskin—.

“Idon’tknowwhyallthegirlsoftodayaresosunburned.

WhenIwasagirlmyskinwasrosesandcream.

IwascountedtheprettiestgirlinCanada,mydear.”

PerhapsUncleHerbertwouldn’tsayanything—orperhapshewould

remarquerait

remarkjocularly,“Howfatyou’regetting,Doss!”

Andtheneverybodywouldlaughovertheexcessivelyhumorousideaofpoor,scrawnylittleDossgettingfat.

Handsome,

solennel

solemnUncleJames,whomValancydislikedbutrespectedbecausehewasreputedtobeverycleverandwasthereforethe

clan

clanoracle—brainsbeingnonetooplentifulintheStirlingconnection—wouldprobably

remarquerait

remarkwiththeowl-likesarcasmthathadwonhimhisreputation,“Isupposeyou’rebusywithyourhope-chestthesedays?”

AndUncleBenjaminwouldasksomeofhisabominableconundrums,betweenwheezychuckles,andanswerthemhimself.

“WhatisthedifferencebetweenDossandamouse?

“ThemousewishestoharmthecheeseandDosswishesto

charmer

charmthehe’s.”

Valancyhadheardhimaskthat

énigme

riddlefiftytimesandeverytimeshewantedtothrowsomethingathim.

Butsheneverdid.

Inthefirstplace,theStirlingssimplydidnotthrowthings;

inthesecondplace,UncleBenjaminwasa

riche

wealthyandchildlessoldwidowerandValancyhadbeenbroughtupinthefearandadmonitionofhismoney.

Ifsheoffendedhimhewouldcutheroutofhiswill—supposingshewereinit.

ValancydidnotwanttobecutoutofUncleBenjamin’swill.

Shehadbeenpoorallherlifeandknewthegallingbitternessofit.

Soshe

enduré

enduredhisriddlesandevensmiledtorturedlittlesmilesoverthem.

AuntIsabel,

franchement

downrightanddisagreeableasaneastwind,wouldcriticiseherinsomeway—Valancycouldnot

prédire

predictjusthow,forAuntIsabelneverrepeatedacriticism—shefoundsomethingnewwithwhichtojabyoueverytime.

AuntIsabelpridedherselfonsayingwhatshethought,butdidn’tlikeitsowellwhenotherpeoplesaidwhattheythoughttoher.

Valancyneversaidwhatshethought.

CousinGeorgiana—namedafterhergreat-great-grand-mother,whohadbeennamedafterGeorgetheFourth—wouldrecountdolorouslythenamesofallrelativesandfriendswhohaddiedsincethelast

pique-nique

picnicandwonder“whichofuswillbethefirsttogonext.”

Oppressively

compétente

competent,AuntMildredwouldtalkendlesslyofherhusbandandherodiousprodigiesofbabiestoValancy,becauseValancywouldbetheonlyoneshecouldfindtoputupwithit.

Forthesamereason,CousinGladys—reallyFirstCousinGladysonceremoved,accordingtothe

stricte

strictwayinwhichtheStirlingstabulatedrelationship—atall,thinladywhoadmittedshehadasensitive

disposition

disposition,woulddescribeminutelythetorturesofherneuritis.

And

Olive

Olive,thewondergirlofthewholeStirling

clan

clan,whohadeverythingValancyhadnot—beauty,

popularité

popularity,love,—wouldshowoffherbeautyand

présumerait

presumeonherpopularityandflauntherdiamondinsigniaofloveinValancy’s

éblouis

dazzled,enviouseyes.

Therewouldbenoneofallthistoday.

Andtherewouldbenopackingupofteaspoons.

ThepackingupwasalwaysleftforValancyandCousinStickles.

Andonce,sixyearsago,asilverteaspoonfromAuntWellington’sweddingsethadbeenlost.

Valancyneverheardthelastofthatsilverteaspoon.

ItsghostappearedBanquo-likeateverysubsequentfamily

fête

feast.

Oh,yes,Valancyknewexactlywhatthe

pique-nique

picnicwouldbelikeandsheblessedtherainthathadsavedherfromit.

Therewouldbeno

pique-nique

picnicthisyear.

IfAuntWellingtoncouldnotcelebrateonthesacreddayitselfshewouldhaveno

célébration

celebrationatall.

Thankwhatevergodstherewereforthat.

Sincetherewouldbeno

pique-nique

picnic,Valancymadeuphermindthat,iftherainheldupintheafternoon,shewouldgouptothelibraryandgetanotherofJohnFoster’sbooks.

Valancywasneverallowedtoreadnovels,butJohnFoster’sbookswerenotnovels.

Theywere“naturebooks”—sothe

bibliothécaire

librariantoldMrs.FrederickStirling—“allaboutthewoodsandbirdsandbugsandthingslikethat,youknow.”

SoValancywasallowedtoreadthem—under

protestation

protest,foritwasonlytoo

évident

evidentthatsheenjoyedthemtoomuch.

Itwaspermissible,evenlaudable,toreadto

améliorer

improveyourmindandyourreligion,butabookthatwas

agréable

enjoyablewasdangerous.

Valancydidnotknowwhetherhermindwasbeing

amélioré

improvedornot;

butshefelt

vaguement

vaguelythatifshehadcomeacrossJohnFoster’sbooksyearsagolifemighthavebeenadifferentthingforher.

Theyseemedtoherto

donner

yieldglimpsesofaworldintowhichshemightoncehaveentered,thoughthedoorwasforeverbarredtohernow.

ItwasonlywithinthelastyearthatJohnFoster’sbookshadbeenintheDeerwoodlibrary,thoughthe

bibliothécaire

librariantoldValancythathehadbeenawell-knownwriterforseveralyears.

“Wheredoeshelive?”

Valancyhadasked.

“Nobodyknows.

FromhisbookshemustbeaCanadian,butnomoreinformationcanbehad.

Hispublisherswon’tsayaword.

QuitelikelyJohn

Foster

Fosterisanomdeplume.

Hisbooksaresopopularwecan’tkeeptheminatall,thoughIreallycan’tseewhatpeoplefindinthemtoraveover.”

“Ithinkthey’rewonderful,”saidValancy,timidly.

“Oh—well—”

MissClarksonsmiledinapatronisingfashionthatrelegatedValancy’sopinionstolimbo,“Ican’tsayIcaremuchforbugsmyself.

Butcertainly

Foster

Fosterseemstoknowallthereistoknowaboutthem.”

Valancydidn’tknowwhethershecaredmuchforbugseither.

ItwasnotJohnFoster’suncannyknowledgeofwildcreaturesandinsectlifethatenthralledher.

Shecouldhardlysaywhatitwas—sometantalisinglureofamysteryneverrevealed—some

indice

hintofagreatsecretjustalittlefurtheron—somefaint,

insaisissable

elusiveechooflovely,forgottenthings—JohnFoster’smagicwasindefinable.

Yes,shewouldgetanew

Foster

Fosterbook.

ItwasamonthsinceshehadThistleHarvest,sosurelyMothercouldnotobject.

Valancyhadreaditfourtimes—sheknewwholepassagesoffbyheart.

And—shealmostthoughtshewouldgoandseeDr.Trentaboutthatqueerpainaroundtheheart.

Ithadcomeratheroftenlately,andthepalpitationswerebecoming

ennuyeux

annoying,nottospeakofan

occasionnel

occasionaldizzymomentandaqueershortnessofbreath.

Butcouldshegotoseehimwithouttellinganyone?

Itwasamostdaringthought.

NoneoftheStirlingsever

consulté

consultedadoctorwithoutholdingafamilycouncilandgettingUncleJames’approval.

Then,theywenttoDr.Ambrose

Marsh

MarshofPortLawrence,whohadmarriedSecondCousinAdelaideStirling.

ButValancydislikedDr.Ambrose

Marsh

Marsh.

And,besides,shecouldnotgetto

Port

PortLawrence,fifteenmilesaway,withoutbeingtakenthere.

Shedidnotwantanyonetoknowaboutherheart.

Therewouldbesucha

histoires

fussmadeandeverymemberofthefamilywouldcomedownandtalkitoverand

conseillaient

adviseherandcautionherandwarnherandtellherhorribletalesofgreat-auntsandcousinsfortytimesremovedwhohadbeen“justlikethat”and“droppeddeadwithoutamoment’swarning,mydear.”

AuntIsabelwouldrememberthatshehadalwayssaidDosslookedlikeagirlwhowouldhavehearttrouble—“sopinchedandpeakedalways”;

andUncleWellingtonwouldtakeitasapersonal

insulte

insult,when“noStirlingeverhadheartdiseasebefore”;

andGeorgianawouldforebodeinperfectlyaudibleasidesthat“poor,dearlittleDossisn’tlongforthisworld,I’mafraid”;

andCousinGladyswouldsay,“Why,myhearthasbeenlikethatforyears,”inatonethat

impliquait

impliednooneelsehadanybusinesseventohaveaheart;

andOlive—Olivewouldmerelylookbeautifuland

supérieure

superioranddisgustinglyhealthy,asiftosay,“WhyallthisfussoverafadedsuperfluitylikeDosswhenyouhaveme?”

Valancyfeltthatshecouldn’ttellanybodyunlessshehadto.

Shefeltquitesuretherewasnothingatallseriouslywrongwithherheartandnoneedofallthepotherthatwouldensueifshementionedit.

ShewouldjustslipupquietlyandseeDr.Trentthatveryday.

Asforhisbill,shehadthetwohundreddollarsthatherfatherhadputinthebankforherthedayshewasborn.

Shewasneverallowedtouseeventheinterestofthis,butshewould

secrètement

secretlytakeoutenoughtopayDr.Trent.

Dr.

Trentwasagruff,outspoken,absent-mindedoldfellow,buthewasarecognisedauthorityonheartdisease,evenifhewereonlyageneralpractitionerinout-of-the-worldDeerwood.

Dr.Trentwasoverseventyandtherehadbeenrumoursthathemeantto

prendre sa retraite

retiresoon.

NoneoftheStirling

clan

clanhadevergonetohimsincehehadtoldCousinGladys,tenyearsbefore,thatherneuritiswasall

imaginaire

imaginaryandthatsheenjoyedit.

Youcouldn’tpatroniseadoctorwho

insulté

insultedyourfirst-cousin-once-removedlikethat—nottomentionthathewasaPresbyterianwhenalltheStirlingswenttotheAnglicanchurch.

Chapitre

CHAPTERII

WhenCousinSticklesknockedatherdoor,Valancyknewitwashalf-pastsevenandshemustgetup.

Aslongasshecouldremember,CousinStickleshadknockedatherdoorathalf-pastseven.

CousinSticklesandMrs.FrederickStirlinghadbeenupsinceseven,butValancywasallowedtolieabedhalfanhourlongerbecauseofafamily

tradition

traditionthatshewasdelicate.

Valancygotup,thoughshehatedgettingupmorethismorningthanevershehadbefore.

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