this very day convey to Bathilde Landry this house and the revenue of
two other houses which I own in Paris; moreover, I will settle my entire
fortune, after my death, on the child that is soon to be born. I myself
will retire to my estate of Champfleury, and end my life there; life in
the city is no longer congenial to my years or my tastes. If you refuse
to take Bathilde for your wife, then, monsieur, there is another
satisfaction which her father has the right to expect; I read in his
eyes that he is burning to demand it, and I cannot blame him!--Choose,
therefore, Bathilde's hand, or a duel with her father."
"My choice cannot be doubted!" cried Léodgard. "The Comte de Marvejols
will not marry a bath keeper's daughter! And if the bath keeper desires
to measure swords with me, I am willing to consent to do him that
honor."
A low groan was heard from the direction of the two girls, while Landry,
proudly twisting his moustache, said calmly:
"Monsieur le comte, King Henri IV tapped me on the shoulder and called
me his _brave_! I do not think that you will dishonor yourself by
measuring your sword with my rapier!"
"And so," rejoined the marquis, with a grief-stricken glance at his son,
"you expect, by shedding her father's blood, to efface the shame with
which you have sullied this maid's honor! Let it be as you choose,
monsieur! Henceforth God will attend to your punishment.--But be not
alarmed, my poor girl, poor mother, whom your seducer spurns; whatever
the result of the combat about to take place, I will henceforth take
care of you as if you were my own child.--And you, Landry, you, her
father--now that you see her grief, her suffering, her repentance, you
will forgive her for her sin; yes, you will forgive her--I see it in
your eyes; and then you will thank this other maid, her friend, of whose
devotion you are not as yet aware.--Come forward, Ambroisine, and
receive the praise which you deserve; let your father hear it; let us
bring joy to one heart at least!"
Master Hugonnet, flushing crimson with pleasure, gently pushed
Ambroisine forward; she walked a few steps, being in dire embarrassment,
and said, lowering her eyes:
"Monsieur le marquis is too kind; what I have done was quite natural--I
should have been so happy to find that Monsieur le Comte Léodgard still
loved Bathilde!--And so, before making up my mind to tell the whole
story to monsieur le marquis, I went many times to the house in Rue de
Bretonvilliers, to try to speak with monsieur le comte; and yet I
confess that I was a little afraid when I went to that quarter alone at
night. And then, as they always told me that Monsieur Léodgard was not
in, I sometimes passed a great part of the night waiting for his return;
and once--oh! I was so frightened--I had such a horrible
experience!--But I beg pardon, monseigneur; that cannot interest
you--excuse me."
Within a few seconds, Léodgard's face, as he listened to Ambroisine, had
become deathly pale, and great drops of sweat stood on his brow; but he
remained motionless in his place and affected to make light of what she
said.
The old marquis motioned to Ambroisine as she was about to turn away,
saying:
"Go on, my child; what happened to you in your friend's service cannot
fail to interest us. What was this experience?"
"Mon Dieu! monsieur le marquis--excuse me--it was like a ghost.--This is
how it happened. I was waiting for monsieur le comte to return; the
clock had struck twelve; as I did not know what to do to kill time,
instead of standing still in front of the gate, I walked now and then
along the walls on one side or the other--for the hôtel stands entirely
by itself. That night, as I stopped at the end of the wall, behind the
hôtel, a man suddenly appeared; I had neither heard nor seen him; it was
as if he came out of the wall.--But imagine my terror; by his hairy cap
and his olive-green cloak, I had no doubt that it was Giovanni the
brigand, whom I had heard described so often; and then----"
"It is all over! I will atone for everything!" cried Léodgard in a
hoarse voice, roughly pushing Ambroisine aside, to approach Bathilde.
"Monsieur le marquis, I surrender, I consent, I will marry Bathilde; I
am ready to lead her to the altar!"
It would be impossible to describe the effect of these words, which
everyone was so far from expecting.
The keenest delight was depicted on every face. Bathilde uttered a cry
of joy. Landry went to his daughter and took her in his arms. Ambroisine
and her father were in ecstasies.
The old Marquis de Marvejols offered his son his hand as a sign of
reconciliation.
And no one thought to ask for the end of the adventure which the _belle
baigneuse_ had begun to narrate.
XXXVI
A STRANGE CHOICE
One beautiful day in spring, Valentine de Mongarcin sat in the salon
where her aunt Madame de Ravenelle preferred to pass her time, amusing
herself by picking out chords on her zither and singing the words of a
new virelay.
Madame de Ravenelle, reclining on an immense couch, listened to her
niece, keeping time gently with her head, and smiling with the contented
expression of a person whose digestion is good and who has no cares.
The fair Valentine was a long way from displaying a countenance as
placid as her aunt's; her brow often contracted; her mouth expressed
melancholy rather than pleasure, and her eyes, which she turned
constantly from side to side, indicated that her mind was deeply
preoccupied.
"Well! go on, Valentine; why have you stopped singing?" inquired the old
lady.
"What do you say, aunt? was I singing?"
"Well! this is charming! do you mean that you did not know it? that you
sang without being aware of it?"
"I assure you, aunt, that I was not thinking of music at all!"
"Is it possible? However, you have been so distraught, so pensive, for
some time past, that if I did not know you, I should really believe that
you had some passion in your heart!--But I am not at all alarmed in that
direction; I know that you love no one!"
"That is true, aunt: I have no love for anyone."
"Still, you will have to decide some day. You do not lack suitors, at
all events; there are more than ten gentlemen, rich and of noble birth,
who seek your hand. I say to them all: 'Wait, be patient; she will come
to it.'"
Valentine made no reply. But, a few minutes later, she asked:
"Did you hear anything last evening, aunt, at Madame de Brissac's
reception, of a very--a very extraordinary occurrence?"
"No, niece, no; and I prefer not to. Extraordinary events sometimes
cause keen emotion, and I dislike anything that disturbs my delightfully
quiet life."
"Well, I heard two young gentlemen talking within a few feet of me--not
so low that I could not hear their words. One of them said: 'Yes, my
friend, Léodgard de Marvejols is married.'--'That is impossible,' the
other replied; 'why should his marriage be kept secret?'--The first one
answered; but just then he and his friend walked away, so that I could
learn nothing more."
"You must have heard wrong, niece; or else the young gentleman was
amusing himself at his friend's expense.--A man of the Marvejols blood
does not contract a marriage without letting it be known beforehand in
society! That would in truth be most extraordinary!"
At that moment a servant appeared and announced the Baron de Germandré.
The old lady ordered him to be admitted, and soon a little, wizened,
bald-headed old man entered the salon, saluted the ladies with all the
grace of a courtier, and, after presenting his respects with a sprightly
air, dropped upon a sofa, saying:
"Great news, mesdames! great news! I am always among the first to learn
the news, you know. I like that; early fruits are always agreeable: ha!
ha! ha!"
"What is it, Monsieur de Germandré?" asked Madame de Ravenelle, half
raising her head; "is the king making love to his wife? is Richelieu out
of favor?"
"No, no, to-day's news does not concern the court, but a gentleman of
noble lineage, of a very ancient family.--Why, it is utterly
inconceivable! And if I had not had my information from the old Duc de
Montaulac, who was one of the witnesses, I should refuse to believe it;
but one must yield to evidence!"
"When you are willing to explain yourself fully, baron, we shall be very
glad; for thus far you have confined yourself to most ambiguous
phrases."
"That is true, mesdames--I beg pardon; this is the authentic news: the
son of the Marquis de Marvejols, young Comte Léodgard, is married!"
"Married!" cried Madame de Ravenelle, unable to control a movement of
surprise; and she glanced at her niece; but the latter remained
impassive and simply pressed her lips tightly together, like one who was
not at all surprised by what she heard.
"That would be perfectly natural," continued the baron; "the count's
marriage was sure to come, and it would surprise no one if he had
married someone of his own rank, a person of noble birth, of an
illustrious family. But if you knew to whom he has given his name!--why,
it is beyond belief; such a thing was never seen!"
"Really, baron, you are intolerable! You keep us in this suspense!"
"Oh! a thousand pardons, _belle dame_!--Well, the descendant of the
house of Marvejols, Comte Léodgard, has married a girl of the common
people--the daughter of a bath keeper. That is the sort of people with
whom that noble gentleman has allied himself."
Valentine clenched her fingers on the chair on which her hand rested,
but she strove to retain her self-control.
For the first time in her life perhaps, Madame de Ravenelle uttered an
exclamation, and seemed deeply moved; she could hardly murmur:
"It cannot be so, baron; there must be some mistake; such a marriage is
impossible!"
"Mon Dieu! I said exactly the same thing, madame, when I heard of it;
but since the Duc de Montaulac and the Baron de Freilly were present as
witnesses to the marriage, and since they have confirmed the report,
how can you entertain any further doubt?"
"And the old Marquis de Marvejols consented to this marriage?"
"He not only consented, but--and this may seem to you even more
incredible--he forced his son to contract it, so to speak."
"He? the marquis?"
"Yes, madame.--You know that he is a very strange man, is the dear
marquis! He has certain ideas, certain principles, on the subject of
honor, which are worthy of much respect, no doubt; but still there are
cases when one may well make an exception to the rule."
"And the Duc de Montaulac and the Baron de Freilly consented to act as
witnesses to a marriage which violates all the proprieties, which is
almost an insult to the nobility?"
"What would you have? It seems that it is quite a romantic story. They
say that the girl, who was a model of virtue, was seduced by that
scapegrace of a Léodgard--for the gentleman is said to be a sad rake.
And then, the affair having had certain--er--consequences, the girl was
turned out of doors by her parents, and but for a friend who assisted
her and gave her shelter she would probably have died in the street; for
the dashing Léodgard had abandoned her!"
"That was very wrong! He should have given her money--a great deal of
money!"
"He has never had any too much for himself; though now, they say, he
spends as much as a sultan!--To make my story short, the father learned
all from the girl's friend, who went to see him. He summoned all the
parties before him, and it was then that the Duc de Montaulac and
Monsieur de Freilly were present. He told his son that he owed
reparation to the father of the girl he had seduced. This father is an
old soldier, so it seems; the marquis gave the count his choice between
marrying the girl and fighting a duel with her father?"
"And Léodgard preferred the marriage? It is inconceivable!"
"He refused at first; he even rejected the proposition with contempt.
Then, all of a sudden--no one knows how it came about--he changed his
mind and consented to marry. The ceremony took place instantly, in the
chapel of the Hôtel de Marvejols. A venerable priest had been summoned.
Everything was ready. The rite was performed."
"I cannot get over my surprise! No, it passes my understanding. The new
bridegroom will not have the audacity to present his wife at court, I
presume?"
"It seems that after the marriage the bride's parents gave up their
bathing establishment and went to live in the provinces."
"What a pity! we might have gone to the Comte de Marvejols's
father-in-law's place to bathe! That might have become the fashion."
"As for the old marquis, he has given his mansion on Place Royale to the
young bride, so they say. It seems that he has lavished gifts upon her;
he has settled an enormous income upon her. But he has arranged it so
that his son cannot touch it; in short, he has determined that the young
woman shall have an independent fortune.--It is certain that with the
sort of life that Comte Léodgard is leading now few fortunes could stand
the strain.--Finally, the old marquis has left Paris; he has gone to his
fine estate of Champfleury, announcing that he does not propose to leave
it again."
"That is a very strange series of events!--Do the new husband and wife
live happily?"
"Oh, yes! for they do not live together. On the very day of his
marriage, Comte Léodgard left his wife and returned to his _petite
maison_ in Rue de Bretonvilliers. As for the new countess, she has taken
up her abode in the Hôtel de Marvejols, and I am assured that the count,
her husband, has not set his foot inside the door since she took
possession."
"All that you have told me is so astounding--it has excited me too
much.--I am afraid that I am going to be ill, baron; this is contrary to
all my habits."
"You will resume them again, _belle dame_; after all, no matter what
happens, it seems to me that it is a matter of indifference to us. So
much the worse for people who make fools of themselves! The idea of
marrying a woman whom you leave on your wedding day and whom you refuse
to see again! I declare that, had I been in the count's place, I would
have fought a hundred times rather than enter into such an absurd
alliance!"
"You would have done well, baron; you would have done very well! Ah! you
do not belie your blood!"
"What the devil! one is a gentleman or one is not; I know no other
distinction!--But I must leave you, mesdames; receive my respects. I
confess that I am in haste to go to several other houses to tell the
story of the Comte de Marvejols's extraordinary marriage."
"I can understand that. Go, Baron de Germandré, go; we will detain you
no longer."
The old baron took his leave.
Madame de Ravenelle glanced at her niece; Valentine simply said, in a
curt tone:
"Well, madame! you see that I heard aright, do you not?"
The old lady made no reply; but, after so severe a shock, after such an
excess of fatiguing emotion, it was plain that she wished to enjoy a
little repose, for she stretched herself out on her couch as she did
when she proposed to sleep.
Thereupon Valentine at once left the salon and went to her own
apartment.
"Send Miretta to me!" she said to a servant whom she met; then, having
no longer any motive for concealing her feelings, she abandoned herself
to chagrin, wrath, mortification; she tore whatever was within reach of
her hand; she spurned and broke everything that came in her way.
Miretta soon appeared before her mistress. For some time past, Miretta
had been sad and pensive. Wherever she might be, her brow was pale and
anxious, and her eyes expressed grief and discouragement; she was no
longer the pretty and piquant brunette who fascinated all eyes. Grief
soon works havoc with beauty.
"Mademoiselle sent for me, and I am here," she said in a low tone,
bending her head before her mistress.
"Yes, come in; close that door, so that I may speak, so that I may at
last give full vent to my feelings, without constraint."
"Mademoiselle is much agitated! Has anything happened to grieve her?"
"Oh, yes! yes! I am suffering acutely; I feel deeply humiliated! I
cannot tell you all that I feel; I do not know myself what is taking
place in my heart; but I would like to be able to avenge
myself!--Miretta, that man who was to be my husband--at least, such was
the wish of both our families--that Léodgard de Marvejols, is
married--married to the girl Bathilde, the daughter of a bath keeper!
he, the descendant of an illustrious family! Do you understand?--do you
realize what a terrible affront he has put upon me?--To marry
Mademoiselle Bathilde Landry, he disdained, he refused, the
hand of Valentine de Mongarcin!--Ah! that thought drives me
frantic--it suffocates me, it makes my nerves tingle! Give me
water--water--quickly! It seems to me as if I were choking."
Miretta waited upon her young mistress with the most zealous attention.
Valentine soon became calmer, and even smiled at her maid, saying:
"I feel better now--thanks, Miretta! In truth, I was very foolish to
make myself ill over that man; that is not the way to be avenged! But to
marry that Bathilde--who would ever have believed it of him?"
"And the white plume you sent her, mademoiselle?"
"I believe that instead of ruining the girl, it simply helped to make
her a countess!--She! she! Comtesse de Marvejols! I cannot accustom
myself to the idea. And yet, it would seem that he no longer loves her.
Just imagine that on the very day of their marriage Léodgard left this
Bathilde! She lives in the hôtel on Place Royale, and the count
continues to occupy his house in Rue de Bretonvilliers; and since the
day that he contracted that shameful marriage he has not been once to
visit his wife!"
"That proves, mademoiselle, that Monsieur le Comte Léodgard did not
marry willingly; and that he must certainly have been forced into this
marriage with the bath keeper Landry's daughter."
"No, he might have refused; he is old enough to control his own actions.
He had his choice between this marriage and a duel with this Bathilde's
father, and he dastardly declined the duel!"
"Oh! mademoiselle, it is inconceivable that it was from lack of courage.
Everybody agrees in saying that Monsieur le Comte Léodgard is the
bravest of the brave!"
"Yes, yes, you are right; but, in that case, why did he consent? There
is some mystery underneath all this--something which I would give all
the world to discover!"
And Valentine, resting her head on one of her hands, half reclining on a
sofa, lay for several minutes deep in thought. Miretta, kneeling on a
cushion by her mistress's side, was equally motionless, and, wholly
engrossed by her thoughts, evidently had no idea what she was doing.
Valentine emerged from her reverie at last, and said, passing her hand
through Miretta's lovely black hair:
"Poor girl! you too are in trouble, and you have nobody to whom to
confide your sorrows. But I have noticed your depression for some time;
your face is careworn, and when you try to smile there are tears in your
eyes--tears which you try in vain to conceal!--Come, tell me your
troubles; has the man whom you loved so dearly betrayed you?"
"Alas! mademoiselle, I do not know whether he has betrayed me; yet I can
but think that he has ceased to love me, as he no longer tries to see
me. Days, weeks, months have passed, and I never see him--I cannot
succeed in meeting him!"
"Poor Miretta, I understand your melancholy; but do you know whether he
is still in Paris? Perhaps he has been compelled to absent himself, to
take a journey, and had no time to send you word?"
"Oh, no! he is still in Paris, mademoiselle, I am very sure; for I--I
sometimes hear of him."
"Those persons from whom you hear of your lover should be able to tell
you where he is, where you might find him."
Miretta lowered her eyes and replied, after a moment's pause:
"No, mademoiselle; for he will not tell where he lives, he does not wish
me to go to see him.--Mon Dieu! what have I done to him that he should
forget me, avoid me thus? He knows very well that I came to this country
only because he was here! I only asked to be allowed to see him now and
then, at long intervals; was I so unreasonable? And yet, the last time
that I saw him, he was so far from being cold to me that one would have
said that he loved me more than ever. He came with me to this door, he
pressed my hands lovingly, he looked at me as one looks with the heart;
and can he have ceased to love me? No, it is impossible! Oh! there are
times when I should believe that he was dead, if I did not know that he
has been seen, in Paris, within the fortnight."
"Look you, Miretta, you are childish to be alarmed, to distress
yourself; you have no real reason for it; your fears are as vague as
your suspicions; whereas I--I feel that I must have revenge for the
affront put upon me. But to whom shall I look for my revenge? Not to my
aunt; she was considerably moved, I admit, when she learned of this
monstrous marriage; but in a moment she went to sleep, in order to
forget all about it. So that I must depend on myself alone for my
vengeance, yes, on myself! But a young girl does not count in the world;
she can do nothing. It is better--yes, she must be able to maintain her
rank, to show herself, to make a sensation, and perhaps----"
Valentine's features became animated, her thought seemed to embrace the
whole future. She remained for a long while buried in meditation, then
said to Miretta:
"You must have seen here all the noblemen who aspire to my hand. I wish
you to tell me what you think of them; what you may have heard about
them. Pages and esquires are never dumb when their masters are
mentioned. Answer me frankly. You cannot hurt me, for I love none of
these gentlemen.--The Sire de Vergy?"
"He is a very handsome cavalier, perhaps a little too much in love with
himself; he thinks of nothing but his dress, he adores perfumery----"
"Let us pass to another;--the Comte de Brillancourt?"
"He is a very fine-looking man; he is most anxious to be considered a
roué, a seducer, a man who makes conquests every day; but his servants
declare that he boasts of more than he makes, and that he never finds
anybody at the rendezvous which he claims to have received."
"He must be a fool! he would be a very depressing companion.--The Sire
de Montaubry?"
"He is considered an agreeable gentleman, who adores pleasure and passes
his life in merrymaking. He is generous to prodigality; he rewards his
esquire when he has invented some pleasant occupation for his time.
Cards, dancing, music, the table, horses--these are what he must have
every day."
"The man must be insufferable with his high spirits!--The Baron
d'Arcelle?"
"He is no longer young, but he is enormously rich! He is a great
stickler for etiquette; he dismissed his coachman one day because he
allowed the carriage of a farmer of the salt tax to pass him."
"They who ascribe so much importance to little things are incapable of
great things!--The Marquis de Santoval?"
"Oh! there is a man in whose glance there is something that inspires
fear! He has a handsome face; but such a black beard, and eyes that
shine with a smoldering fire, and heavy eyebrows that almost join. His
servants say that he is very just to them, but that he punishes
inexorably the slightest fault. He is a widower; his first wife was very
pretty, and Monsieur de Santoval is terribly jealous; they say that he
did not make her happy. He adores the chase, and passes a large part of
the year on his estates, hunting wolves."
"Enough, enough! my choice is made!--Go, Miretta, see if my aunt has
finished her siesta."
Miretta returned and informed her mistress that Madame de Ravenelle was
quite ready to listen to her. So Valentine left her apartment and went
to her aunt. After saluting her with great gravity, she said:
"Madame, I have decided at last to take a husband; it is time for me to
occupy my rightful place in society."
"Ah! you have decided, niece? Very good! Mon Dieu! what a multitude of
events for a single day!--Well, Valentine, it only remains to make a
choice among all the noble suitors who have asked for your hand."
"My choice is made, aunt."
"Indeed! it is extraordinary how rapidly everything happens to-day!"
"My choice has fallen on the Marquis de Santoval. I accept him for my
husband."
"The Marquis de Santoval!"
And the old lady uttered another exclamation of surprise, then fell back
on her couch, saying:
"Everybody seems determined to kill me to-day by exciting me beyond
endurance!"
XXXVII
BATHILDE'S CHILD
The magnificent Hôtel de Marvejols had changed masters. In the place of
the old marquis, Bathilde, Comte Léodgard's lawful wife, was installed
in the vast apartments, and gave orders to the numerous servants whom
the marquis had left with her as a nucleus of her household.