the salons, saying:
"No, indeed, we will not walk in the gardens with you, seigneurs; you
have too pronounced a penchant for the dark paths."
"Besides, I want to dance!" said little Nadina, who was rather stout for
her short stature, but who carried her premature embonpoint with such
graceful abandon and such a saucy expression that the men felt drawn
toward the _Little Ball_, a sobriquet which her female friends had given
her.
"She wants to dance, in order to melt her fat!" whispered Flavia to one
of the gentlemen.
"Why so? for my part, I think her very comely as she is."
"Bah! one cannot see any figure!"
"I assure you that one can see some very pretty things!"
"As if men knew anything about it!"
"Ah! that remark is characteristic of a woman! They try to captivate, to
seduce men, and then they declare that men are not capable of judging
them!"
"Messeigneurs," said Camilla, approaching a group of gentlemen, among
whom she saw Léodgard and Sénange, "the supper is served under the great
arbor of lilacs yonder. If it is your pleasure to serve us as
cupbearers, we will take our places at the table.--Come, mesdames."
As she spoke, the fair courtesan led her friends away, and they ran like
a swarm of butterflies in the direction of the supper table.
"On my honor, that Spanish costume is marvellously becoming to Camilla!"
said Sénange, exalted to the seventh heaven by a smile which the
courtesan had bestowed upon him. "I do not believe that it is possible
to find a more fascinating woman.--I am going to supper."
"Camilla is certainly very good-looking; I do justice to her
attractions," said Montrevert, remaining behind to chat with a number of
young men. "But as for saying that there is no more fascinating
woman--Sénange goes too far! What would he say if he had seen the young
Marquise de Santoval? Ah! she is what I call a beauty that eclipses all
others! And, with all Camilla's charms, I will bet that no one would
notice her if she stood beside the marchioness!"
"Who is this Marquise de Santoval? where does she come from?" asked
Monclair.
"It is plain that you spend all your time in wine shops, Monclair;
otherwise, you would know that the Marquis de Santoval married
Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin, the daughter of an illustrious
family."
"Oh, yes! I remember now.--And it is this young woman who is so
beautiful, you say?"
"Montrevert does not exaggerate," said La Valteline. "A few days ago, I
was at a ball at Madame de Beaumont's, and the young Marquise de
Santoval was there. Her entrance caused a sensation; the whole salon
joined in a cry of admiration!--That young woman turned everybody's
head. In addition to her beauty, there is an expression on her face
which it is impossible to describe--coquetry, pride, languor, irony--and
the combination is simply ravishing!"
"Well, well! it would seem that this Santoval is a very lucky man!"
"He is far too much so, messieurs! He is in great danger!"
"The devil! we must take precautions, then. For this husband is a
veritable wild boar, supplied with nasty tusks."
"Let us go to supper, messieurs."
"Let us go to supper."
The young men walked away; but Léodgard, who had overheard them,
remained seated on a bench under the trees, saying thoughtfully to
himself:
"Ah! this Marquise de Santoval, who is said to be so beautiful, is
Valentine--the woman whom I was to marry! I hardly noticed her, then! I
am curious to know if they tell the truth.--And then, it will distract
me, and I need distraction."
And the count walked slowly toward the place where the company was
assembled.
As for Jarnonville, he had long since left the courtesan's abode, sorely
depressed because his attempt to arouse Léodgard's interest had proved
fruitless.
XLI
A GLANCE
A few weeks later, a splendid ball was given by the Prince de Valdimer,
a wealthy and luxury-loving foreigner, ambassador of one of the Northern
powers.
Every person who imparted any ray of brilliancy to the somewhat dismal
court of Louis XIII, every bearer of an illustrious name in France, was
bidden to this festivity. The Comte de Marvejols had not been forgotten.
It was hardly possible to move in the salons of the vast mansion which
the Prince de Valdimer had hired, and which he had caused to be
decorated and illuminated on a most magnificent scale.
The ladies, dressed in rich gowns, were covered with diamonds, pearls,
and jewels. The men, who were more coquettish in those days than we are
to-day, also wore laces, plumes, and precious stones on their garments.
Then there were the newly rich merchants, the financiers, the
farmers-general, who sought to disguise their origin by arraying
themselves in sumptuous vestments of gold and silver brocade.
A fact that gave additional importance to this function in the eyes of
many persons was that it was said that the Cardinal de Richelieu had
promised to attend.
The crowd was therefore so great that one sometimes had to wait a long
while before going from one room to another, if one did not wish to be
suffocated.
A young woman of rare beauty, holding her elegant figure gracefully
erect, and leaning on the arm of a man of forty, whose face wore a
severe but noble expression, led her escort into a window recess as if
in search of air, saying:
"In heaven's name, monsieur le marquis, let us not mingle with that
crowd; let us wait here a moment, where we may perhaps be able to
breathe! Mon Dieu! what a multitude of people! the whole court and the
whole city are at this fête!"
"If you dread the heat, if this crowded hall has no charms for you,
Valentine, we will go away."
"Oh, no! I wish to stay; it is a very brilliant affair; but I would like
to rest a moment here."
"As you please."
"Why, here is Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval!" cried a little
hunchbacked old man, who held his head erect, however, and whose eyes
were instinct with cunning and good humor, addressing the escort of the
lady who had taken refuge in the window recess; "have I the honor of
saluting madame la marquise?"
"Yes, my dear De Noirteuil," replied Monsieur de Santoval, shaking hands
with the little old man.
"Ah! present me, I pray you."
"Madame, allow me to present Monsieur de Noirteuil, a gentleman from the
South--like myself; moreover, a clever diplomatist who has often placed
his talents at the service of his country, and always with success."
"What would you have--I had nothing else to offer my country; it would
have none of my person!--But allow me to congratulate you, Santoval! You
are a lucky mortal, 'pon my honor! I have heard your wife's beauty
extolled, but I see that what I have heard is far below the truth!"
"You are gallant, as always, De Noirteuil!"
"At this moment I am simply the echo of what is said on every
side.--What think you of this fête, _belle dame_? a little crowded, is
it not?"
"Why, monsieur, it seems to me to be very brilliant, very splendid!"
"Humph! too many people! That is the way with these foreigners; when
they want to give a fête, they invite and invite! they would do much
better to make a selection, to sort people out."
"What! do you mean to say that you have seen anybody who is out of place
here?"
"I do not say that; still, after all, he might well have invited a
smaller number."
"They say that the cardinal is coming."
"That is possible; but it is all the same to me--I don't care about
seeing him, I have no request to make of him. He has just organized two
companies of _mousquetaires_, but I fancy that he will not appoint me
to a captaincy. Ha! ha!"
"Still fond of your laugh, my dear De Noirteuil!"
"Ah! I must have something, you know, marquis! Now, you possess an
enchanting wife, and I, my gayety! I never had any other companion; but
it has its good points.--Mon Dieu! what do I see? What miracle is this?
Is it really he? Yes, it is himself, on my word!"
"Of whom are you speaking, De Noirteuil?"
"Of that young cavalier whom I see yonder, at the entrance of the
gallery; dressed in the extreme of fashion, with princely magnificence!
But he carries it well, vrai Dieu! He is a very pretty fellow, that
Léodgard de Marvejols!"
"Ah! you are speaking of the Comte de Marvejols?--What is the matter,
Valentine? do you feel ill?"
"I, monsieur? not in the least. Why do you ask me that?"
"Because it seemed to me that your arm suddenly rested very heavily on
mine.--I am happy that my alarm was unfounded."
"I uttered that exclamation of surprise," continued the hunchback,
"because it is a long while since young Marvejols has been seen at any
ball or party; he has ceased entirely to go to court; in short, between
us, he is looked upon as a regular _mauvais sujet_, who frequents only
courtesans and low gambling hells!"
"It would seem that you are not his friend, monsieur," said Valentine,
with an ironical glance at the little man.
"I, madame la marquise? Oh! I bear him no ill will. I have never been
his rival. Ha! ha!--Look, he is coming this way!"
Léodgard, having learned from several persons that the Marquise de
Santoval was in that room, was trying to force his way through the crowd
and had succeeded in reaching a point within a few feet of the window
where Valentine was.
Old De Noirteuil immediately bowed several times to Léodgard and offered
him his hand, saying, in the shrill, piercing voice which seems to be
the patrimony of hunchbacks:
"Hail! my dear count, hail! Enchanted to see you, on my word of honor!
you are such a rare bird--at court, at all events; no one will ever
reproach you for being too zealous a courtier! But, vive Dieu! you
should not abandon your place to others in this way! A Marvejols is
intended to show himself, as I was saying just now to my friend the
Marquis de Santoval and his charming wife."
While the little old man was speaking, Léodgard had fixed his eyes on
Valentine, who, in her turn, fixed hers upon him. This reciprocal glance
lasted only an instant, but what a multitude of things were said during
that swift flash, which seemed of the sort to kindle a conflagration!
The Comte de Marvejols well deserved that a lady should rest her eyes
upon him. Hardly twenty-eight years old, tall, well made, and endowed
with a noble and graceful bearing, he possessed in addition very
handsome features and an expression at once winning and haughty. The
only points that one could criticise in Léodgard's appearance were an
extreme pallor which gave to his face a suggestion of the other world,
and a certain vagueness in his glance which harmonized too well with the
pallor of his brow.
But, as women, in general, are rather inclined to men who have something
uncommon about them, Léodgard made many conquests, and his appearance at
the Prince de Valdimer's had created a sensation.
After exchanging a handshake with Monsieur de Noirteuil, he saluted the
Marquis de Santoval; then he bowed low to Valentine, accompanying the
movement with a slight smile, which indicated that it was not the first
time that he had presented his respects to the marchioness. Then he
walked on into another salon.
"He is good-looking, very good-looking, a charming cavalier!" murmured
the little old man, looking after the count.
"Monsieur de Marvejols bowed to you as to an old acquaintance, it seemed
to me," said Monsieur de Santoval, whose brow had grown dark.
"Why, my father was a very close friend of the Marquis de Marvejols, so
that the count and I are not strangers; I have met him once or twice."
"Oh! I beg pardon; I knew nothing of that.--Is not the count married?"
"Yes, indeed! oh, yes!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil; "in fact, he made a
very absurd marriage--the daughter of a man who kept a shop; and it was
his father, the old marquis, who insisted that the marriage should take
place. It seems that there had been seduction, malediction,
desertion--and a child with it all."
"Men renowned for their _bonnes fortunes_ seem to have bad ones too,
sometimes!" observed Monsieur de Santoval, smiling in a strange fashion.
"It seems to me, monsieur, that the crowd is less dense," said
Valentine, "and that we might walk through the other rooms now."
"With pleasure, madame; I am at your service."
"Lovely woman! enchanting woman!" cried the little hunchback, as he
watched the young marchioness move away on her husband's arm.
"Yes," said the Baron de Montrevert, leaning unceremoniously on the
little man's shoulder; "but much too lovely for her husband--eh,
Noirteuil?"
"Do not lean on me so, baron--you are heavy, you are extremely heavy,
baron!"
"What do you mean by that, you crafty old man? Do you refer to my body
or my mind?"
"Both."
"Is it true that Léodgard is here?"
"Quite true; I spoke to him just now."
"Do you know that Sénange has enticed Camilla, his mistress, away from
him?"
"How do you suppose that I know that? Do I consort with courtesans,
pray? I have never cared for that sort of woman!"
"Ha! ha! ha! I think that you have been very wise, my dear friend!"
"You laugh, do you? Mon Dieu! if I had chosen to cover them with gold,
they would have adored me."
"You mean that they would have pretended to."
"To a man of sense, that amounts to the same thing. Look you--you
mention Léodgard; he is handsome, young, and well made; and yet you told
me just now that his mistress had left him!"
"That is true; and the strangest part of it is that Léodgard has not had
a quarrel with Sénange; indeed, it is said that they continue to be good
friends."
"Par la sambleu! I should say so! What greater service can one render a
friend than to rid him of an old mistress?"
"Noirteuil, you are a villain! It is very lucky for the ladies that you
have that slight protuberance on your shoulder!"
"Why so?"
"Because it has preserved them from the tricks you would have played on
them.--But I propose to try to find the fair Santoval, and, if possible,
I will dance with her."
"Go! go singe yourself at the candle, my handsome moth!" said the little
old man, mingling with the crowd; "I fancy that more than one of you
will scorch his wings; but I shall not be one!"
Léodgard had turned his back on Valentine, still fascinated by her
glance, by her beauty which had disturbed his senses, by her charming
and noble carriage, by the grace with which she wore her splendid
costume, and, lastly, by the change which the title of wife had wrought
in her manner and in her whole aspect.
He could not convince himself that that intoxicating beauty was really
the maiden whose hand he had refused. But he remembered that in those
days he had hardly glanced at her, and that she, on her side, had barely
raised her eyes to his face; and he said to himself:
"What a difference! What a glance she flashed at me just now! There was
in her eyes a sort of ironical expression which seemed to jeer at me for
having failed to appreciate her--a sort of challenge to me to refuse to
do homage to her charms!--Ah! I long to see her again! to gaze upon her
charms a long while, a very long while! to taste that happiness which I
once spurned! Will she look at me again as she did just now?"
Léodgard succeeded without difficulty in finding Valentine. The young
marchioness, alleging the heat as a pretext, had refused all invitations
to dance; she had seated herself on one of the raised benches in the
gallery, which were so arranged that the ladies who sat there could
enjoy the sight of the ball without moving.
When he discovered Valentine, the Comte de Marvejols leaned against a
pillar within fifteen feet of her, because from that place, thanks to
her elevated position, he could gaze at her at his ease. The Marquis de
Santoval, being at the foot of the benches, and surrounded by people,
could not see Léodgard.
The latter had been in his chosen place but a few moments when he became
certain that Valentine had seen him, that she knew that he was there for
the sole purpose of admiring her and watching her movements. Thereafter
he saw nobody in the whole assemblage but that woman, a single glance
from whose eyes had sufficed to set his heart on fire. All the passing,
all the going and coming about him were powerless to divert his
attention; his eyes did not wander from the Marquise de Santoval.
"Vive Dieu! my dear count, you are terribly preoccupied, this is the
second time that I have spoken to you without obtaining a reply!"
As he spoke, the Baron de Montrevert placed his hand on Léodgard's arm;
the latter angrily roused himself from his contemplation and muttered:
"Well! what is it, Montrevert? Is not a man the master of his thoughts
and actions here?"
"Oh, the devil! How surly you are to-night, Léodgard! Have I disturbed
you in some very pleasant occupation? I will wager that I know what has
nailed you to this pillar! Yes, now I know!--Aha! my dear master, we are
admiring the Marquise de Santoval, who is on one of the benches
yonder!--Well! in that case, I forgive you for snarling at me--such a
lovely woman is quite capable of making us forget our friends!--But
look--it seems to me that she casts a glance in our direction; this is a
good place, apparently!"
Léodgard had resumed his contemplation of the marchioness and was no
longer listening to Montrevert.
At that moment the little old hunchback joined them and stood on tiptoe,
crying:
"What are you looking at there? Is the cardinal in that direction? I
don't care about seeing him--I know him; still, as they say that he is
thinner than ever, I should like to judge.--Montrevert, take me in your
arms a moment, so that I may see."
Montrevert followed Léodgard's example--he did not reply. The Chevalier
de La Valteline, who also had stopped near them, said to Monsieur de
Noirteuil:
"Console yourself; it is not the cardinal they are looking at; it is the
young Marquise de Santoval, whom everybody is admiring."
"The Marquise de Santoval! Oh! that makes a difference; I know her! I am
very intimate with her husband!--But what a noise there is in the next
room! Doubtless the cardinal is making his _entrée_; he seems to be
coming this way, for the commotion is approaching us. So much the
better! we shall be able to see him."
At that moment, the new arrival, whose peculiar costume and unique
figure caused such a lively sensation in the throng that filled the
rooms, made his appearance at the door of the gallery where the benches
were. At sight of him many ladies could not control their desire to
laugh, which they tried to dissemble behind their fans, while the little
hunchback cried:
"By Notre Dame! who is this green man, who looks not unlike an asparagus
stalk?--But I know him! why, yes, it's the Gascon chevalier, Monsieur de
Passedix!--Where in the devil did the Prince de Valdimer pick up all
these people?"
"My dear De Noirteuil," said La Valteline, "do not make a mistake;
Passedix is a genuine chevalier of good family! He is absurd with
respect to his physique, his costume, and his pretentious ways--that may
be; but he is in no wise out of place here!"
The Gascon had, in fact, laid aside his orange costume. Having succeeded
in obtaining an invitation to the Prince de Valdimer's ball, he had
determined to create a sensation there by his magnificence, and, above
all, by the originality of his costume; he had, in short, decided to do
his utmost to forget Miretta; and having found no cure for his troubles
in wine, he proposed to himself to make other conquests, hoping that
another love would cure him of the passion which had caused him naught
but vexation.
For several days, Passedix had reflected upon the subject of the color
which would be most becoming to him and at the same time would be likely
to attract the eyes of the ladies at a ball. He had decided on
apple-green, and had ordered a satin doublet and short-clothes of that
color, both slashed with olive-green, to form a contrast with the
background. A dark-green girdle surrounded his waist; a short
apple-green cloak was fastened to the left shoulder; and lastly, a
sea-green velvet cap, surmounted by plumes of the same shade, completed
the costume of the chevalier, who resembled an ambulatory tree, and
whose entrance had produced an effect even beyond his hopes.
"One could never imagine anything like it, if one did not see it!" said
the little old man.
Passedix, who had recognized La Valteline and Montrevert, pushed through
the crowd which escorted him, and hastened to join them.
"Hail to the flower of chivalry!" exclaimed La Valteline, smiling.
"Enchanted to meet you, my fine fellows!--Cadédis! what a crowd at this
ball! it is gorgeous! it is elegant! The fair sex predominates--so much
the better, sandis!--I say with François I: a ball without ladies is a
court without roses--no, I mean a springtime--but, no matter!--Ah! but
there is our friend the Comte de Marvejols, glued to yonder
pillar.--Good-evening, Léodgard! How now! not a word for a comrade?--Can
he have gone deaf, I wonder? he does not answer!"
"No," said Montrevert; "but I believe that he has fallen in love with
the Marquise de Santoval, who is sitting over yonder."
"The Marquise de Santoval!" repeated Passedix, with difficulty
repressing a sigh.
"That name makes you sigh, chevalier," said La Valteline; "can it be
that you too are one of the adorers of that lady, who sows confusion in
all hearts?"
"I! oh! not at all; but I remembered that the Marquise de Santoval is no
other than Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin--that is all."
"Vertuchoux! monsieur," said the little old man, saluting Passedix in
his turn, "you have chosen an exceedingly dashing costume for the ball,
and one which, as you must have noticed, produces a great effect here."
"My costume is graceful and distinguished, is it not? I have always had
a weakness for apple-green; it is very becoming to me!"
"Yes, you wear it in a way that is peculiar to yourself."
"You have the general aspect of a shrub," said Montrevert.
"So much the better, sandioux! I am a rosebush; the ladies will be the
roses."
"You represent hope also!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil.
"As you say, I am the chevalier of hope."
"One might also take him for a lettuce!" said the little hunchback, in
an undertone.
"But, if I remember aright, you were all orange not long ago?"
"Yes, yes, that is true; but I have had enough of my orange costume; it
came very near costing me dear.--Did Sénange and Monclair never tell you
what happened to me, thanks to that infernal doublet?"
"No, we know nothing about it. Was it not a love adventure?"
"Love adventure! Bigre!--I beg pardon, I meant to say no, by Roland!--I
was arrested, taken away--the crowd was already beginning to talk of
hanging me! and all because they absolutely insisted that I was the
famous robber Giovanni!"
"Giovanni! you, Giovanni! Ha! ha! ha! that is too absurd!--I say,
Léodgard, Passedix was mistaken for Giovanni!"
The name of the Italian robber produced a magical effect upon Léodgard.
The amorous expression of his glance instantly disappeared; he turned
toward those who had addressed him, gazed at them with a distracted air,
and replied in a metallic voice:
"What? what is it? what do you say? I did not hear."
"I said, count, that the Chevalier Passedix, whom you see before you
disguised as a lawn----"
"What do you mean by _lawn_?" cried the Gascon.
"No; I meant to say dressed as a meadow--in short, this worthy gentleman
was arrested by mistake for the robber Giovanni!"
"Ah! he was arrested?"
"Don't you agree with me that it is very comical?"
"Sandis! baron, I see nothing amusing in it at all! What do you see in
it that moves you to laughter?"
"Pardieu! Passedix, the fact that you no more resemble Giovanni than
that enormous lady yonder resembles the Marquise de Santoval; and I
speak by the card, having had the honor of being set upon and robbed by
the illustrious brigand!"
"What, monsieur le baron! have you been attacked by the famous
Giovanni?" said the little hunchback, raising his head in order to look
at Montrevert more closely.
"Yes, monsieur, and much more than attacked--I was beaten; for I tried
to defend myself. But Léodgard here knows Giovanni much better than I,
for he has had two encounters with him: the first, when he was robbed,
like myself; on the second occasion, he tried to avenge me and kill the
villainous thief; he fought with him and wounded him.--Is not that so,
count?"