- end_line
- 1208
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1155
- text
- And now, for some years past, she had annually spent several months at
Saddle Meadows; and it was among the pure and soft incitements of the
country that Pierre first had felt toward Lucy the dear passion which
now made him wholly hers.
Lucy had two brothers; one her senior, by three years, and the other her
junior by two. But these young men were officers in the navy; and so
they did not permanently live with Lucy and her mother.
Mrs. Tartan was mistress of an ample fortune. She was, moreover,
perfectly aware that such was the fact, and was somewhat inclined to
force it upon the notice of other people, nowise interested in the
matter. In other words, Mrs. Tartan, instead of being daughter-proud,
for which she had infinite reason, was a little inclined to being
purse-proud, for which she had not the slightest reason; seeing that the
Great Mogul probably possessed a larger fortune than she, not to speak
of the Shah of Persia and Baron Rothschild, and a thousand other
millionaires; whereas, the Grand Turk, and all their other majesties of
Europe, Asia, and Africa to boot, could not, in all their joint
dominions, boast so sweet a girl as Lucy. Nevertheless, Mrs. Tartan was
an excellent sort of lady, as this lady-like world goes. She subscribed
to charities, and owned five pews in as many churches, and went about
trying to promote the general felicity of the world, by making all the
handsome young people of her acquaintance marry one another. In other
words, she was a match-maker--not a Lucifer match-maker--though, to tell
the truth, she may have kindled the matrimonial blues in certain
dissatisfied gentlemen's breasts, who had been wedded under her
particular auspices, and by her particular advice. Rumor said--but rumor
is always fibbing--that there was a secret society of dissatisfied young
husbands, who were at the pains of privately circulating handbills among
all unmarried young strangers, warning them against the insidious
approaches of Mrs. Tartan; and, for reference, named themselves in
cipher. But this could not have been true; for, flushed with a thousand
matches--burning blue or bright, it made little matter--Mrs. Tartan
sailed the seas of fashion, causing all topsails to lower to her; and
towing flotillas of young ladies, for all of whom she was bound to find
the finest husband harbors in the world.
But does not match-making, like charity, begin at home? Why is her own
daughter Lucy without a mate? But not so fast; Mrs. Tartan years ago
laid out that sweet programme concerning Pierre and Lucy; but in this
case, her programme happened to coincide, in some degree, with a
previous one in heaven, and only for that cause did it come to pass,
that Pierre Glendinning was the proud elect of Lucy Tartan. Besides,
this being a thing so nearly affecting herself, Mrs. Tartan had, for the
most part, been rather circumspect and cautious in all her
manoeuvrings with Pierre and Lucy. Moreover, the thing demanded no
manoeuvring at all. The two Platonic particles, after roaming in quest
of each other, from the time of Saturn and Ops till now; they came
together before Mrs. Tartan's own eyes; and what more could Mrs. Tartan
do toward making them forever one and indivisible? Once, and only once,
had a dim suspicion passed through Pierre's mind, that Mrs. Tartan was a
lady thimble-rigger, and slyly rolled the pea.
- title
- Chunk 4