Marianne, when only twelve, had become dependent upon her uncle, Leon
Beauchene. After all sorts of mishaps a brother of the latter, one Felix
Beauchene, a man of adventurous mind but a blunderhead, had gone to
Algeria with his wife and daughter, there to woo fortune afresh; and the
farm he had established was indeed prospering when, during a sudden
revival of Arab brigandage, both he and his wife were murdered and their
home was destroyed. Thus the only place of refuge for the little girl,
who had escaped miraculously, was the home of her uncle, who showed her
great kindness during the two years of life that remained to him. With
her, however, were Alexandre, whose companionship was rather dull, and
his younger sister, Seraphine, a big, vicious, and flighty girl of
eighteen, who, as it happened, soon left the house amid a frightful
scandal--an elopement with a certain Baron Lowicz, a genuine baron, but
a swindler and forger, to whom it became necessary to marry her. She
then received a dowry of 300,000 francs. Alexandre, after his father's
death, made a money match with Constance, who brought him half a million
francs, and Marianne then found herself still more a stranger, still
more isolated beside her new cousin, a thin, dry, authoritative woman,
who ruled the home with absolute sway. Mathieu was there, however, and a
few months sufficed: fine, powerful, and healthy love sprang up between
the young people; there was no lightning flash such as throws the
passion-swayed into each other's arms, but esteem, tenderness, faith,
and that mutual conviction of happiness in reciprocal bestowal which
tends to indissoluble marriage. And they were delighted at marrying
penniless, at bringing one another but their full hearts forever and
forever. The only change in Mathieu's circumstances was an increase of
salary to two hundred francs a month. True, his new cousin by marriage
just vaguely hinted at a possible partnership, but that would not be
till some very much later date.