replied, trying to hide his emotion, and glancing uneasily in every
direction.
"You thought so!" rejoined Montrevert; "why, it was no delusion, as you
were covered with blood when you came back to us."
"Cadédis!" cried Passedix, raising his hand to put aside one of the
plumes, which fell over his left eye; "I don't know what I would give to
cut that infernal robber in four pieces!"
"In that case, messieurs," said Monsieur de Noirteuil, "you must indeed
know this Giovanni perfectly."
"That is why I said just now that the Chevalier Passedix did not
resemble him at all!" said Montrevert. "Not that you can see his face,
which is all hidden by his beard, but you can distinguish his eyes,
which are very black and very bright, and his nose, which is long and
sharp."
"Well! all that resembles me, I should say!"
"But he is a long way from having a figure like yours--he is not even so
tall as Léodgard; he is very active, and seems to be powerfully built
and quite young."
"I see no great difference from your humble servant."
"For some time past, we have heard nothing of people being attacked by
this robber," said the little old man; "it would seem that he is
reposing, or that he has left Paris."
"No, indeed!" said La Valteline; "but the shrewd rascal always awaits a
good opportunity before acting; he does not steal for trifles! No, no!
he is a fellow who selects his victims.--Not more than fifteen days,
that is to say, fifteen nights ago, the wealthy Destaillis, receiver of
the salt tax, was robbed by him as he left a gambling house in which he
had broken the bank!"
"Sandis! if I were lieutenant of police, I would be ashamed of not
having captured this Giovanni yet!"
"It seems that he has retreats, hiding places, in every quarter; he
throws off the track all the bloodhounds that are set on him."
"Patience, messieurs," said the little hunchback; "I have been assured
that the Cardinal de Richelieu said lately that he proposed to turn his
attention to that villain! And if his eminence takes a hand in it,
Giovanni will be caught."
"But what is this commotion in the gallery?--Ah! messieurs, this time it
is really the cardinal; he is going to pass through here."
"I don't care about seeing him," said the hunchback, darting toward the
crowd, "but he may have something to say to me; that is why I think it
better to be where he can see me."
"For my part, I should not be sorry to have him notice me!" said
Passedix.
"Oh! parbleu, chevalier!" said Montrevert; "he cannot help it! You have
a costume that attracts every eye."
"So much the better! Sandis! you make me swim in joy! Bigre! here he is!
we must stand erect!"
Richelieu came forward slowly, surrounded by a throng of courtiers, all
of whom strove to obtain a favorable glance or a mere word from his
eminence; and those who were vilifying the prime minister most savagely
a few moments before were not the least eager to bend their backs double
to obtain a smile.
As it was absolutely necessary for the guests to stand aside and make
room for the cardinal to pass, he stopped a moment in front of the
pillar against which Léodgard was leaning, and glanced at the persons
nearest him.
"His eminence paused to look at me," said Passedix, leaning toward La
Valteline. "Look--see----"
"He turns and speaks in an undertone to the Prince de Valdimer, who is
at his side."
"I should not be surprised if he were to call me! He wishes to know the
address of my tailor!"
But the Gascon's expectations were not fulfilled; it was not upon him
that Richelieu had cast his eagle eye; it was Léodgard whom he had
noticed; it was the name of the Comte de Marvejols that had come from
his mouth.
After gracefully saluting the ladies who stood along his path, Richelieu
walked through the gallery; but before he took his leave he cast at
Léodgard another glance, of which all the courtiers then present sought
in vain to divine the meaning.
XLII
THE PLOT THICKENS
During the first few weeks after the ball given by the foreign prince,
Léodgard tried to forget Valentine's image, to banish her from his mind;
he said to himself that it would be madness on his part to fall in love
with a woman whose husband he had refused to be.
But the young marchioness's tender and expressive eyes were not the kind
that one easily forgets, especially when they have seemed to say to one:
"Love me, I insist upon it!"
Tired of fighting against a sentiment which gave him no rest, Léodgard
said to himself at last:
"Well! I will love this woman!--She will love me in return, I am certain
of it; I saw it in her eyes. What do the obstacles that lie between us
matter to me? Two lovers, when they understand each other, admit no
obstacles!--She does not love this Marquis de Santoval; I saw that too.
There are things which a glance suffices to reveal to us.--Now, I wish
to be in Valentine's company again. I will go wherever she is likely to
be; ere long she will cease to doubt my love. Yes, that woman shall be
mine. I will trample under my feet anyone who may seek to prevent me
from obtaining her."
A few days later, a brilliant reception was given by a great personage.
Léodgard attended; he wore a costume the magnificence of which
heightened the beauty of his face and his soldierly figure. A diamond of
great value held the plumes that waved above his cap; his sword hilt and
the aglets that glistened on his shoulders were incrusted with gold and
precious stones.
As he passed, the Comte de Marvejols might have gathered more than one
loving glance bestowed upon him by lovely and noble dames, whose
conquest many a cavalier struggled to achieve. But Léodgard paid no
attention to them; he had come there for but one woman--all others were
indifferent to him; he passed unscathed through the fire of their
glances.
At last he spied her who engrossed all his thoughts.
Valentine was seated among a number of ladies of the court, whom she
dominated by the power of her charms as the majestic oak dominates the
slender saplings that surround it.
The young marchioness's toilet was noble in its simplicity; it was less
ornate than those of her neighbors, and yet hers was the one that was
observed and admired; for veritable beauty imparts a charm to everything
that it wears.
Léodgard stopped in front of Valentine and fastened his eyes upon her;
he made no attempt to conceal the admiration she aroused in him.
Valentine, on her side, had perceived Léodgard at once, and a faint
smile played about her lips, while her eyes expressed the keenest
satisfaction.
Léodgard stood on the same spot, gazing at Valentine longer than strict
propriety permitted. But suddenly the marchioness's lovely eyes ceased
to respond to his burning glances, and seemed, on the contrary, to do
their utmost to avoid them.
He sought to discover the cause of the change and soon succeeded: as he
turned his head, he saw the Marquis de Santoval standing within a few
steps and watching what was taking place.
The Comte de Marvejols decided, albeit regretfully, to leave his
position. He did not lose sight of Valentine, however; he waited, hoping
and seeking constantly to approach her; but Monsieur de Santoval
remained near his wife; when Léodgard thought that he had gone into
another room, he suddenly reappeared like a ghost, like a threatening
spectre; for his brow was dark, and his eyes emitted ominous flashes
which seemed the precursors of a violent storm.
At last the marchioness left her seat, to walk through the salons on her
husband's arm. Seizing a moment when they were surrounded by people,
Léodgard approached Valentine and said in her ear:
"I am dying with love for you, madame!"
"It is very late!" murmured the young woman, with a glance of flame at
him who had addressed her.
"What? what did you say, madame?" demanded the Marquis de Santoval,
turning to his wife.
"I said that it was very late, monsieur."
"You are right, madame; it is time to leave this function, which, in
truth, offers little in the way of recreation."
The marquis took Valentine away; and Léodgard, as soon as he was certain
that they had left the party, made haste to follow their example.
But Valentine knew that he loved her, and the words that she had let
fall were not calculated to discourage him, even if they had not been
accompanied by a soft glance.
A few days later, a ball was given by one of the king's favorites.
Léodgard did not fail to attend, but in vain did he wander through the
salons looking for her whom he burned to see again. The Marquis de
Santoval and his wife did not appear; they had been invited, however;
for the noble duke who gave the fête expressed more than once his
disappointment that the lovely marchioness was not among his guests.
Several parties, several large receptions followed, and Léodgard did not
miss one; but she whom he always hoped to meet did not appear.
The time passed; and love, which is intensified by separation, so long
as it has not been rewarded, became every day more violent in Léodgard's
heart.
It was evident that the Marquis de Santoval was jealous, that he had
noticed the impassioned glances which the Comte de Marvejols had
bestowed on his wife and, above all, a certain expression of
satisfaction, of triumph, that shone in Valentine's eyes while Léodgard
made himself drunk with love by gazing at her.
To prevent a repetition of that pantomime, the husband could devise no
better means than to cease taking his wife into society.
But Léodgard said to himself that Valentine was not the woman to allow
herself to be sequestered, to live without the pleasures suited to her
years. In that case, it must be she herself who did not choose to be
thrown with him again. Was it because she detested him? Was it not
rather because she was afraid that she might love him?
"Her efforts will be vain; I will see her!" thought Léodgard; "I will
find a way to approach her; indeed, her soft glances seemed to say that
that would not displease her."
Several more weeks passed. At last Léodgard, who continued to go into
society, found himself one evening in the same room with the Marquis de
Santoval and his wife. There was a melancholy, melting expression on
Valentine's features, which was not habitual to them; but her beauty was
far from being diminished by the soft languor that dimmed the brilliancy
of her eyes; on the contrary, their power was increased thereby.
Léodgard did not dissemble his sensations when he saw the marchioness
again. She looked at him only an instant, but in the glance that she
gave him there was the wherewithal to overturn the reason of the most
virtuous man; and Léodgard was mad with love already.
But the Marquis de Santoval did not leave his wife for an instant; it
was impossible for the most enterprising lover to say a word to her in
secret, for there was no crowd there to facilitate a private interview.
The Comte de Marvejols was obliged, therefore, to allow the marchioness
to go away without exchanging a single word with her. But he no longer
doubted that she was alive to his passion, and he determined to resort
to other methods of seeing her.
The Hôtel de Santoval was situated on Rue Sainte-Avoie. During the next
few days, Léodgard passed and repassed that hôtel, the great gate of
which was always closed. He renewed the occupation of seducer, which he
had abandoned of late; but the servants who went in and out had one and
all a surly air of the sort that does not inspire confidence; they
either answered by monosyllables the questions that were put to them, or
walked away without answering at all. The concierge, too, who sometimes
appeared for a moment in the gateway, had a crabbed look far from
encouraging to lovers.
"By hell! I must find a way to send the lovely Valentine a note!" said
Léodgard to himself, stamping the ground in vexation.
Then as his eye happened to fall on a wretched little wine shop, within
a gunshot of the Hôtel de Santoval, he decided to enter.
Although enveloped in an immense brown cloak, it was easy to recognize a
_grand seigneur_ in the individual who entered the dark and smoky common
room of the wine shop; so that the proprietor, who was not in the habit
of receiving such guests, outdid himself in salutations, and invited
Léodgard to walk into a small room behind his shop, where he could be
alone, if such were his pleasure.
But Léodgard, preferring not to lose sight of the street and of
Valentine's abode, took his seat at a table near the window, saying:
"I am very comfortable here; I will not move."
"What shall I serve monsieur?"
"A bottle of your best wine."
The host bowed again; for in those days wine served in bottles was not
common, and was correspondingly dear. Only noblemen or rich merchants
indulged in that luxury at wine shops.
The room in which Léodgard was seated contained but few drinkers at that
moment. At the rear, two old soldiers were discussing their campaigns
over their wine; there were also three workmen, who were breakfasting
very frugally and singing snatches of ballads.
The latter soon left the wine shop, to return to their work. A few
moments later, two young men arrived; their attire was very modest, but
they talked very loudly.
As they made their entrance into the room, the shorter one exclaimed:
"Ah! ten thousand names of devils! It isn't so brilliant here as at the
famous tavern of the Loup de Mer--eh, Plumard? This place is a regular
hole!"
"It's large enough for what we have to spend!" muttered the second
clerk, removing his cap to scratch the bit of plaster which was still
attached to his scalp, and which, by dint of patience and by working
with his nails, he had succeeded in reducing to about the size of a
crown piece.
Bahuchet--the reader will ere this have recognized the two
Basochians--approached the table next to Léodgard's, saying:
"Let us sit here, my dear boy; we shall be very comfortable here; we
shall be able to see a little something--that is, if our proximity does
not annoy his lordship?"
These last words were addressed to the count, who, having pulled the
brim of his hat over his eyes, simply moved his head; whereupon the two
clerks took their seats at the next table.
"What shall I serve you, gentlemen?" the host asked the new-comers.
"He calls us _gentlemen_!" muttered Plumard.
"The shrewd knave flatters us, hoping to induce us to spend more; but he
will have nothing to show for his compliments and his reverences!--We
have no choice--eleven sous between us; that is rather meagre, but we
can't go beyond it!"
The host was still waiting. Bahuchet beckoned to him to come nearer.
"Listen carefully, good host, and do not exceed our order; we came here
simply to eat a morsel--between our meals. Serve us three sous' worth of
bread, six of wine, and two of good meat."
The host made a wry face and replaced his cap on his head.
"What kind of good meat do you expect me to serve for two sous?" he
retorted.--"Make it six at least, messieurs, and you shall have a dish."
"We will not add a single denier--we have our reasons for it. Go,
cabaretier, and serve it hot."
"Hot! you will have cheese!--I am not in the habit of serving it hot!"
"Ah! poor Bahuchet! where are your days of bluster?" muttered Plumard,
digging his nails into his plaster.
"What would you have, Plumard? The days follow, but do not resemble one
another!--Your skull is the only thing that persists in not changing; it
is infernally obstinate about it."
"Do you remember, Bahuchet, when we regaled ourselves on the costume of
my uncle the clothes dealer?--Ha! ha! thirty pistoles--no less; and what
a spree we had at Le Roule, for two or three days!"
"I should say so; they had to take you to the hospital; you nearly died
of indigestion.--Those were the good times!"
"To be sure, that great idiot of a Gascon chevalier was the cause of our
having a scene with my uncle afterward!"
"Yes, but your uncle could never make us give back the money.--Ah! here
comes our banquet. Fichtre! the good meat they are bringing can be smelt
a long way off!"
"It's cheese--very well done."
The two clerks concluded to attack their breakfast. They stuffed
themselves with bread and cheese. But after a moment Bahuchet observed,
with a sigh:
"Ah! what a pity that Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin is married!
She used to give me famous commissions! and she paid handsomely."
Léodgard, who up to this time had heard the lamentations of his two
neighbors, but had paid no heed to them, suddenly became very attentive
and did not lose a word of what followed; for Valentine's name had
reached his ears, and nothing more was needed to arouse his curiosity.
"Oh, yes!" replied Plumard, making a wry face as he tasted the wine that
had been brought them; "you used to receive well-filled purses in those
days; and you used to treat me. I remember the commission about the
white plume; I came near receiving a cudgelling."
"I would run the risk often now, to obtain the wherewithal to pay for a
sumptuous repast."
"Why do you not go to the Hôtel de Mongarcin any more?"
"I do go there sometimes, as Maître Bourdinard, our employer, is still
Madame de Ravenelle's solicitor and has charge of her affairs. But
Mademoiselle Valentine doesn't live with her aunt since she married the
Marquis de Santoval."
"The result being that you never see her."
"Faith! the other day the old aunt came within an ace of sending me to
her niece to obtain her signature to a document concerning the sale of a
piece of real estate; but some formalities had been omitted, and I had
to carry the document back to the office, where they prepared
another.--Sacrebleu! what beastly wine!"
"Messieurs," said Léodgard, turning to his neighbors, but without
removing his hat, which partly concealed his face, "would you like to
taste this? you may not think it bad."
And the count raised the bottle to fill the two clerks' goblets. They
both made a gesture of surprise, which ended in the most gracious of
smiles. They did not wait to be asked twice to hold their goblets.
"Really, my gentleman, we are deeply touched by your courtesy!" said
Bahuchet, losing no time in emptying his goblet.
"Excellent! it is excellent!" cried Plumard, who would have been glad to
salute his generous neighbor without uncovering his head, and who
constantly put his hand to his cap, taking pains to reveal only half of
his forehead.
"If you like it, you must fill again.--Holà! landlord, two more
bottles!"
"Ah! my dear fellow," Plumard whispered in his comrade's ear, "what an
agreeable gentleman! he has ordered two more bottles! we evidently have
made a very favorable impression on him."
"Oh! there is something behind all this," Bahuchet replied, with a
half-smile; "this young nobleman does not look to me like a fool, or a
new arrival in Paris. If he treats us so generously, it means that he
has need of us! But I snap my fingers at him! Let us accept his treat
first, and let us not be bashful. It seems to me that I know this young
dandy; and you, Plumard?"
"How do you expect me to recognize him? I can see only the end of his
nose."
"Messieurs," said Léodgard, "would you not like to take something
besides cheese with your wine?--Look you, I know what young men are;
their purses are not always well filled."
"That is true!" said Plumard; "we will not play at pride with you,
seigneur; we will admit frankly that we have but eleven sous; to be
sure, we are clerks to Maître Bourdinard, solicitor, but he pays so
little."
"In that case, allow me to offer you some breakfast."
"You invite us so graciously, that we cannot refuse."
"Landlord, bring us some ham, an omelet, cutlets--in short, the best of
everything that you have!"
The tavern keeper stared in amazement at Léodgard and the two clerks;
but the count had tossed a gold piece on the table, and such things were
seen so rarely in that poor shop that the host took it up, gazed at it a
long while, and rang it on the table to be sure that he was not
mistaken.
Reassured at last with respect to the quality of the metal, he tossed
his cap in the air and ran off to his kitchen, overturning all the
tables that stood in his path.
The breakfast was soon brought. Léodgard ate something, so that his
conduct might seem less extraordinary to his guests, whose glasses he
was careful to fill frequently; and as they never refused, they were
speedily in the best of humors. But Plumard did not carry his wine so
well as his friend; he began to find difficulty in expressing himself,
while Bahuchet was only a little giddy.
Léodgard leaned toward the latter and said to him in an undertone:
"If I should ask a service at your hands, and should offer to pay for it
its weight in gold, should you be inclined to render it?"
"Altogether inclined, my gentleman; indeed, I am the one who would be
greatly obliged. But move away a little, if you please; it is
unnecessary that my comrade should hear you; when there is money to be
earned, I prefer not to share it. To be sure, if he should hear now, he
wouldn't understand. He is drunk! he doesn't know how to drink!"
The count pushed his seat away, and Bahuchet moved nearer to him.
Plumard, his goblet having been filled once more, emptied it and began
to talk to himself.
"Do you know the Marquis de Santoval's young wife?" asked Léodgard,
taking pains to speak so that only Bahuchet could hear.
"Yes, seigneur, yes; but----"
"Your master attends to her aunt's business?"
"He does."
"You have a document to carry to Madame de Ravenelle's niece for her
signature?"
"I say--you know that?"
"When you carry that document, you can take charge of a letter which I
will give you for the marchioness; but you must hand that letter to no
one but herself, and without allowing any other person to see you."
"Very good; I understand."
"Will you find a way to perform this commission?"
"Will I find a way! Never fear, I have done more difficult things."
"The husband must not suspect anything."
"He will know nothing about it."
"And you will try to get a reply. If she will not write one, remember
exactly what she says to you."
"Word for word."
"Now, can you do all this to-day?"
"To-day? impossible! the document has to be copied; but
to-morrow--to-morrow, I can go to the Hôtel de Santoval."
"To-morrow, then, at one o'clock in the afternoon, I will await you
here, I will give you my letter, and you will return here and report to
me the result of your mission.--See, take this money; I will give you as
much more if you serve me adroitly and with discretion!"
"You will be content with me, my gentleman, for I am most desirous to
serve you often.--Pardon, I think that I cannot be mistaken--you are the
Comte de Marvejols?"
"Possibly--but try to forget it; I do not wish to be known here, or by
your comrade."
"Never fear, monseigneur; I no longer know you."
"Until to-morrow, then!"
Léodgard left the wine shop. Bahuchet, with the keenest delight, counted
the gold pieces which he held in his hand, but carefully concealed them
from Plumard, who asked him why their new friend had gone away.
"Because he had business to attend to, had that most excellent
gentleman! It seems to me that we too shall do well to leave the table.
It is high time to return to the office."
"To the office? what! do you intend to work to-day?"
"Why not? Come, Plumard, off we go, my boy! The air will do you good."
And Bahuchet led his comrade from the shop; but when they were in the
street, as Plumard stumbled at every step instead of going forward,
Bahuchet deposited him on a stone bench, and hastened back alone to the
solicitor's office.
The next day, Léodgard and the little clerk arrived at the wine shop at
almost the same moment. The former handed Bahuchet the note for
Valentine which he had prepared; and the clerk, who had had no
breakfast, promised to perform his mission adroitly.
Valentine was alone in her bedroom, buried in meditation. Her brow was
stern, and the young woman's thoughts were certainly not of a frivolous
description. She did not hear her maid, who had just entered the room,
until she said to her:
"A young clerk is here, and wishes to know if madame will receive him.
He is sent by Madame de Ravenelle. I recognize him--it is the same young
man to whom madame intrusted a white plume, before her marriage; it is
Monsieur Bahuchet."
"Bahuchet!" cried Valentine, in whose mind that name evoked a thousand
memories. "Is that little fellow here?"
"Yes, madame."
"Admit him at once."