The mother was jealous of her, and I dare say she thought
she could make money out of her beauty and make a _mademoiselle_ of
the girl.
"Atala remembered us, and advised her gentleman to settle near us; and
as the good man sees how decent we are, he allows her to come here.
But get them married, madame, and you will do an action worthy of you.
Once married, the child will be independent and free from her mother,
who keeps an eye on her, and who, if she could make money by her,
would like to see her on the stage, or successful in the wicked life
she meant her to lead."
"Why doesn't the old man marry her?"
"There was no necessity for it, you see," said the Italian. "And
though old Vyder is not a bad old fellow, I fancy he is sharp enough
to wish to remain the master, while if he once got married--why, the
poor man is afraid of the stone that hangs round every old man's
neck."
"Could you send for the girl to come here?" said Madame Hulot. "I
should see her quietly, and find out what could be done--"
The stove-fitter's wife signed to her eldest girl, who ran off. Ten
minutes later she returned, leading by the hand a child of fifteen and
a half, a beauty of the Italian type. Mademoiselle Judici inherited
from her father that ivory skin which, rather yellow by day, is by
artificial light of lily-whiteness; eyes of Oriental beauty, form, and
brilliancy, close curling lashes like black feathers, hair of ebony
hue, and that native dignity of the Lombard race which makes the
foreigner, as he walks through Milan on a Sunday, fancy that every
porter's daughter is a princess.
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