Périple sur le Nil | Part one

Périple sur le Nil, Part One

 

At the threshold of her sixteenth year, Eugénie Bouvreuil radiated like a rare pearl among the flowerbeds of the family home. Her eyes, a brownish green with changing reflections, seemed capable of piercing the secrets of the world. Her hair, a delicate blend of brown and auburn shades, flowed like soft flames over her shoulders, offering a fascinating contrast to the clarity of her skin.

Her youth was a symphony of laughter and chirping, a melody that adorned the rooms and corridors of the vast mansion. Her light steps traced arabesques of joy on the precious carpets and marble tiles that paved the floor. Eugénie, a true muse of a living painting, was a musical note that rose above the everyday, capturing the attention of all those who had the chance to cross her path.

The house, a true architectural gem, bore witness to generations of family stories. The weathered stone walls told silent tales, the arched windows offered views of meticulously maintained gardens, and the richly embroidered tapestries served as guardians of past secrets. The furniture, with its elegant curves and dark woods, seemed to welcome each visitor with timeless grace.

The gardens, a true paradise, were the place where Eugénie found her refuge. The winding paths were lined with flowers of a thousand colors, filling the air with their intoxicating scents. The majestic trees formed natural arches, providing shelter to the wildlife that inhabited these enchanting places. The fountains whispered soothing songs, while the birds competed in symphonies.

 

Every nook of the gardens was a hidden treasure, an invitation to contemplation and wonder. Eugénie spent hours there, losing herself in the pages of a book or simply letting her mind wander with the changing hues of nature.

Alas, as sometimes joys are ephemeral. Death, a dark visitor, appeared without warning. Laughter and bursts of joy froze in an instant as the news of the unexplained disappearance of Eugénie's parents spread like a sinister shadow. The house, once filled with warmth and happiness, was suddenly shrouded in a veil of sadness.

But do not think that young Eugénie, having become an orphan, was left there, abandoned to her solitude. As the saying goes, misfortune never comes alone and, in this case, it came in the form of the most vile, the most abject person that the unfortunate young girl Bouvreuil could have encountered in these times of sorrow.

 

Pierre-Henri Bouvreuil-Jacquard emerged like a dark cloud in the already gray sky of Eugénie. His appearance was the sinister reflection of his soul. His face, marked by years and greed, bore the scars of a life of vices and betrayals. His eyes, cold as glaciers, seemed to scrutinize every corner of the house, as if they were seeking to extract every ounce of wealth.

This distant uncle, whose blood ties were as tenuous as a fragile thread, turned out to be the embodiment of vice and cruelty. His smile, calculated like a financial equation, revealed no trace of kindness. His presence evoked an atmosphere of suspicion and discomfort, and his words were like venomous snakes ready to strike.

The dwelling, once a refuge of love and safety, was now darkened by his presence. The corridors seemed narrower, the rooms more confined, as if Pierre-Henri's shadow stretched over every surface. The elegant furniture, once bearers of stories and warmth, now seemed to shiver under the weight of his malevolent influence.

The gardens, which had been Eugénie's enchanted refuge, were gradually becoming a territory under her control. The paths, once welcoming, now seemed monitored, as if every step was scrutinized by invisible eyes. The majestic trees, which had been like faithful friends, now stood as silent guardians of a domain that had become a prison.

Pierre-Henri had schemed dubious alliances to obtain the guardianship of Eugénie and thus seize the family fortune. His insatiable ambition knew no bounds, and he had woven a treacherous web to take possession of the treasure that was meant for his niece. The guards, who now patrolled the paths, were no longer there to protect but to watch over and keep Eugénie captive in her own home.

Eugénie's life, once free and light, was now hindered by the invisible chains of greed and malice. Her universe had shifted from paradise to a gilded prison where she was held hostage by a man whose soul's darkness rivaled the abyss of night.

The months went by, marked by growing tensions between Eugénie and her uncle. While he skillfully manipulated the income she should have benefited from, he imposed cruel financial restrictions on her while squandering the family wealth for dubious purposes.

"Don't think that Eugénie easily submitted to her fate. Oh no! She kept the spark of rebellion alive within her, refusing to be broken by Pierre-Henri's schemes. One day, an argument broke out, the stifling atmosphere of the house heating up under the raised voices. Eugénie, with a fiery gaze, confronted her uncle with all her determination."

« "You think you can control everything, dictate everything as you please!" she exclaimed, anger rumbling in her voice. "But I warn you, uncle, I fully intend to take advantage of my majority to drive you out of this home that you dared to sully with your presence. You will no longer be able to maintain your hold over me."

Pierre-Henri's gaze darkened, but a contemptuous smile stretched across his lips. "My dear Eugénie, you can dream as much as you like. Your coming of age will only seal your fate in my hands. You will not escape my control; I have connections! High-level connections!"

Eugénie held his gaze, determination overcoming fear. "We shall see who will have the last word, my uncle. I am not a puppet at your command. A day will come when I will be free to make my own choices, and on that day, you will be the only one to leave this house."

But once the snake is in the nest, it's hard to dislodge it, and the vile "Uncle Jacquard," as Eugénie called him, refusing to bear the name Bouvreuil and any kinship with her, intended to tighten his grip around the young girl.

The infamous one had schemed, with a treacherous skill, to obtain the guardianship of Eugénie and seize the Bouvreuil residence. The prospect of hidden treasures and his niece's fortune had driven him to actions of unparalleled baseness. Part of the family fortune, although partially accessible, was in the form of an annuity until Eugénie's twenty-first birthday. A date when, according to legal terms, she could enjoy the entirety of her inheritance and the splendor of the ancestral home; and the old man refused to allow that. He had not spent what remained of his fortune and influence to see himself so quickly deprived of the fruit of "his efforts," he who... had once been the happy beneficiary of a first marriage had once enjoyed a considerable fortune. It is said that he had married a woman with a soul far too pure to withstand his manipulations. The mysterious disappearance of the latter had cast a veil of ambiguity over his role in this tragedy. Rumor whispered that Pierre-Henri's greed was the cause of her death, but the evidence remained buried in darkness.

The legacy of this first union had swollen the coffers of this scoundrel, but his insatiable thirst for pleasures and debauchery had quickly reduced his fortune to nothing. Gambling and unsuccessful investments had swallowed his wealth while women of ill repute had extracted what remained of his dignity.

From this union, a son was born, a soul much less fortunate in intelligence than his father in wealth. With glassy blue eyes, thin and greasy blonde hair, this little fool bore the mark of foolishness. His gapped teeth and dull mind made him resemble more a caricature than a true young man. Although idiocy consumed him, he took pleasure in strutting about like an ignorant peacock, taking malicious delight in interrupting conversations to showcase his ignorance. 

The disgust was inevitable when he was at the table, behaving like a hungry pig and ignorant of basic decency. Good society was forced to tolerate his presence, as he was born the son of his father, to whom some still lent some credit and fortune... Fortune that was the monthly fraction of what would one day rightfully belong in full to Eugénie. A prospect that made this man, who had become too accustomed to the luxury and prestige of the Bouvreuil residence, shudder in horror.

Adrien Bouvreuil-Jaquard, an inconvenient offspring, would finally be able to prove himself useful. He was a pawn that Pierre-Henri hoped to play to maintain his grip on what he considered "his fortune."

The days dragged on, slow and heavy, for Eugénie. Forced to share her daily life with the sinister shadow of Pierre-Henri and the constant clumsiness of Adrien. She felt the growing weight of her imprisonment. The hours seemed to stretch like tired elastic bands, leaving behind a lingering taste of monotony and despair.

Eugénie, however, found refuge in the pages of books. She devoured each story with an insatiable thirst, allowing her mind to escape the oppressive walls of the house. Under the generous sun, she settled among the once-complicit trees, letting the words transport her to distant worlds. The tales of adventures and romances were her allies in this struggle against boredom and sadness.

Sometimes, she managed to escape into the gardens, despite the constant surveillance of her uncle and his armed guards who patrolled around the park. The paths she had once walked lightly were now hopes of escape, her light steps finding hidden ways among the shadows. The flowers, although seeming less vibrant, still retained their beauty and sweet fragrance, offering comfort to Eugénie.

 

The fountains, once singing, still murmured soothing melodies and the majestic trees gently bowed as if to offer their protection. The stone benches, polished by time, welcomed her solitary thoughts as she dreamed of a different life, a future where she would finally be free.

Time passed, the seasons changed, but the oppressive routine remained. The scars left by the mysterious death of his parents still seemed fresh, while the machinations of his uncle and the antics of Adrien made the home resemble a spider's web woven with misfortune and disgust.

Eugénie, however, clung to hope, to the promise of a future where she would be the mistress of her destiny. Books were her escape, gardens her refuge. Despite the shadows that surrounded her, she preserved within herself a spark of determination, a flame that she refused to let extinguish. A day would come when she would free herself from her chains and restore the glory and light of the Bouvreuil house.

But as the fateful date of his coming of age and his release was only a year and a half away, "Uncle Jacquard" revealed his hand.

As he had summoned her to his office, a sinister smile stretched across Pierre-Henri's lips. He stared Eugénie straight in the eyes, and the mischievous glints in his gaze betrayed the extent of his wicked intention. The young woman, although accustomed to her uncle's malice, felt her heart tighten in her chest.

"Dear Eugénie," he began in a sweet voice, "it is high time we consider the future. Your majority is approaching quickly and it is my duty to ensure that you are taken care of in the best possible way."

The words resonated like a sinister omen, giving rise to a growing unease in Eugénie's mind. She fixed her gaze on her uncle, struggling to maintain a neutral expression despite the apprehension that was overwhelming her.

"I believe it is in everyone's interest that you get married, my dear niece," he continued with a cruel smile. "And I am delighted to announce that I have found the ideal match for you."

Eugénie felt her heart race, a knot of nervousness forming in her throat. She tried to maintain her composure, refusing to let her uncle see her vulnerability.

"Your future husband is already among us," he announced in an almost triumphant tone. "It is, of course, Adrien."

The revelation struck Eugénie like a thunderclap. Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at her uncle, unable to believe what she had just heard. The pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in her mind, forming a chilling picture of manipulation and greed.

Pierre-Henri continued in a cold and cruel voice: "Of course, your marriage will be under the regime of community property. Everything that is yours will become theirs, and everything that is theirs will become yours. A perfect alliance, don't you think?".

"You... You don't have the right, I... I am a minor," said Eugénie.

"Indeed, replied his uncle... Indeed... But..." he then grabbed a book from his desk and read: "Article 148 of the Napoleonic Civil Code (1804):" The son who has not reached the age of twenty-five years completed, the daughter who has not reached the age of twenty-one years completed, cannot enter into marriage without the consent of their fathers and mothers; in case of disagreement, the consent of the father is sufficient. ». Ihe cleared his throat before adding with a wide predatory smile: "From the father, or from the legal guardian" ».

Eugénie felt anger rising within her, mixed with a deep sense of helplessness. The dreams of freedom she had nurtured seemed to fade away in the face of this new nightmarish reality. The home, the gardens, the Bouvreuil legacy, the memories of her parents, everything would be in the hands of Pierre-Henri and Adrien. If the rumors about her uncle's first marriage turned out to be true... She would not survive long in this union.

His uncle observed her reaction with sadistic satisfaction, savoring every moment of her discomfort. Eugénie, however, was not ready to be crushed. Despite the rage boiling within her, she maintained a mask of determination, her eyes shooting sparks in a frozen silence.

Pierre-Henri's smile faded slightly, but he did not waver, adding "time is on my side and you will not be able to escape your destiny." ».

Eugénie held his gaze with a burning intensity. The words spoken by her uncle echoed in her mind and then, slowly, she collapsed in tears, engulfed by despair while he, cheerful, left the room.

 

 

 

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