Book #1: Suzy's Dream (Chapter 9 - Part 3)

Chapter 9 continued...

“Because, my child, accompanying me will divert you from your path, since I am going to the Ursulines,” she said hesitatingly.

“Never mind, Maman. Running errands in Amiens does not take very long. And then, I’ll come see you. I want to take advantage of being with you as much as possible.”

As he spoke, he bent over a little, and his lips brushed the white hairs on Madame Vilbert’s forehead. She no longer protested her son's proposal.

He accompanied her, in fact, to the Ursulines, but then he took a path through the boulevards where the wind rushed in, biting and harsh, reddening the faces of the few walkers who diligently took their Sunday walks. He soon arrived in front of Aunt Sylvie's house, situated in a neighborhood at the very end of Rue Laurendeau.

It was the old lady herself who opened the door.

“Ah,André! My dear, I am very glad to see you! Come in quickly, you must be freezing. Come over here. Before going to the Salute, my dear, old Flora made a good fire for me in the drawing room.”

Aunt Sylvie had decidedly never changed. As far back as André could remember, he had always seen her thesame: plump; a rather pale face with very red lips; small, lively eyes, the color of coffee, which looked curiously at peopleand things; and a head full of eternal brown hair— and for good reason — always smooth under a black tulle cap withviolet ribbons.

Trotting in front of André, she ushered him into the room which she pompously called the “drawing room.” Two other individuals were there as well: an exceedingly fat gentleman, and a tall young girl with large feet, large hands, and red hair squeezed into small, thin braids, and sheltered by a hat whose shape was as unmodern as possible.

“My nephew André, from Paris,” Mademoiselle Sylvie announced upon entering the room. André followedbehind her.

As one would greet a person who has just arrived from Paris, the stout gentleman and the tall girl rose and bowedprofoundly to Andrew.

“André, I don't know if I need to introduce you to M. de Guillancourt and his daughter Anna,” Mademoiselle Sylvie continued. “When you were a child, you often went to admire, in the company of Anna, the pond and the golden pheasants of M. de Guillancourt.”

Probably André was at that time at too young of an age for him to remember anything, for he did not remember in any way the pond, the golden pheasants, or young Anna.

He contented himself, therefore, by replying with a few vague and amiable words, which brought a fleeting flush to the cheeks of Mademoiselle de Guillancourt.

“How old it makes us to see these children so grown up,” Mademoiselle Sylvie remarked in that convincing tone which was de rigueur for such exclamations. “And so, here is Anna ready to leave the Sacred Heart, soon to be oldenough to marry!”

“I see,” said André politely, indifferent to the whole matter. 

The portly M. de Guillancourt intervened. He had the air of a peasant, while wearing the clothes of a city dweller.

“Certainly, I won’t be at a loss when that time comes with the fortune she will have. I had them give her a solid education. She has obtained her certificate; she plays the piano; she even composes small drawings, small paintings –”

“Like my nephew, who is a great artist,” Mademoiselle Sylvie exclaimed proudly. “He has created works that all Paris knows!” 

Anna looked at André in admiration. She didn't seem at all convinced of her own merits. Perhaps, after all, shewas doing herself justice by not appreciating them.

“Aunt, I beg you, spare them from your praise,” said André, who hated to hear his praises sung, especially by Mademoiselle Sylvie with her expansive enthusiasm.

To stop the well-intentioned lady in her tracks, he turned to Anna and asked her, “Do you like to paint, Mademoiselle?”

The young lady turned red as a cherry.

“Oh, no, sir. I find it too difficult to learn,” she answered in a low voice.

“My child, all beginnings are hard as Monsieur can tell you.” Her father jumped in with a bombastic tone. “He must have started by doing small, ugly things before he was able to paint beautiful pictures. To succeed, there is only perseverance. If I had understood this when I was young, I would be more knowledgeable today and I wouldn’t be soignorant. For example, I wouldn’t understand what the value of my phosphates really is.”

“Your mother has told you about the discovery of what’s on these lands, André, has she not?” Mademoiselle Sylvie said obligingly, obviously ready to begin a story.

André suddenly found the conversation interesting.

“Indeed, Aunt. Does Monsieur then possess any part of these quarries?”

“Yes, Monsieur Vilbert,” replied the portly man, fidgeting in his chair as it gave a painful creak. “Yes, MonsieurVilbert, and you can even see that I am very embarrassed by it. There is, it seems, a large operation to be undertakenthere. At least that's what the big landowners in the country say, starting with my neighbor, a stockbroker from Paris. Buthere's the thing…I'm afraid of being deceived. I don't know what to believe. I would need the advice of an engineer, and –”

“And you don't know any?” André asked, paying close attention.

“Not in the least! How on earth could that be? I only ever interact with farmers. So, I am truly embarrassed for not knowing any, M. Vilbert.”

“I could put you in touch with a very capable engineer,” André began slowly.

“Oh, M. Vilbert, really, you would agree to do that?”  M. de Guillancourt said without allowing him to finish. “I would be terribly grateful! What service you would provide me by sending me a person in whom I can have complete confidence. What do you want? I understand nothing of this sort of business, myself, so I am suspicious of all those refined gentlemen from Paris, who are always ready to make fun of us country folk. And so, at the head of our commonfarm, my neighbor the stockbroker would like to place someone of his acquaintance. So be it! But I also want to have my man in the business. And since you can answer for your engineer –”

“As I would for myself.”

“Perfect!” M. de Guillancourt exclaimed, his good, fat face radiating. “M. Vilbert, I know that you’re a serious fellow, and I’m happy to trust you. I shall be very much obliged to you if you would send along your friend to me.”

Yes, certainly, André was willing. Was he actually being given the ability to offer M. Douvry a position for thefuture? A deep joy invaded him at the thought, and at the idea that Suzy might return soon if her father's change of situation made her exile in Cannes useless.

And André, the artist rebellious to business questions, listened eagerly to the interminable speeches of M. deGuillancourt on the value of his lands. He applied his mind to grasping the owner's explanations on the nature of the soil, the experiments already made, and promising to transmit them to the desired engineer. If the enterprise was advantageous, then perhaps M. Douvry would be entrusted with a very important position in the operation.

Blessed phosphates! What a bright future André wished for them.

Mademoiselle Sylvie had never seen such enthusiasm in her nephew. At first, she listened to him with some interest, but then, little by little, she found that the conversation took on too learned an air, and became, for her, more of a private matter. She set about talking to Anna, without troubling herself about the sparse answers the young girl gave while enveloping André in shy and admiring glances. Mademoiselle Sylvie, having immense pleasure in talking, did not feel regret at having a silent conversation partner.

Yet, suddenly, she grew tired of her monologue and began to interrupt the conversation between André and M. deGuillancourt. Eventually, she left the room—dragging Anna along— to fetch in the depths of her cupboard a marvelous cordial she’d made, the recipe of which she immediately gave to the indifferent Anna.

“Come, gentlemen, enough learning for today,” she said, reappearing with the precious liquor, with Anna still trailing behind her. 

To Mademoiselle Sylvie’s great satisfaction, her words brought about the desired diversion. M. de Guillancourt, quite warmed by his long conversation with André, and his joy at the prospect of retaining a remarkable engineer, eagerly approached the table to taste Mademoiselle Sylvie's cordial.

But, to Anna's great disappointment, André prepared to leave.

“André, my child, wait a little longer. You aren’t in a hurry,” Mademoiselle Sylvie insisted. “We see you so rarely. Stay a little to talk about your paintings with Anna.”

This proposal alone usually made André want to flee. He therefore firmly resisted Mademoiselle Sylvie's entreaties. Besides, he had a very good reason to leave because his mother would be waiting for him when she left the Ursulines. And, willingly or unwillingly, everyone had to let him go.

Le rêve de Suzy is in the public domain. All original additions, including translations, illustrations and chapter summaries, are copyright © 2025 by Marriah K. Nissen and may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. All rights reserved.