as he entered, retaining, however, the mocking, self-sufficient air
which was customary with him, and which was intensified at that moment
by the importance of the commission with which he was charged.
"My aunt sends you to me, you say, monsieur?" said Valentine, gazing
fixedly at the messenger. "What does she want? or rather, with what
message are you intrusted?"
"Madame, it is a matter of a parcel of real estate--a house that
belonged to a second cousin on your mother's side; the said cousin
having deceased without issue, and the estate descending to her
collateral heirs----"
"Enough, enough, monsieur, I beg you! I understand nothing about
inheritances, and I do not care to have my brain confused with all these
details, which I find horribly wearisome. Come to the point. What am I
to sign? a power of attorney?--Come, tell me quickly!"
"I was coming to the point, madame. Yes, I have a document in my pocket,
which you will be good enough to sign, perhaps; but not until you have
first read it carefully, for one should never sign anything without
reading it."
Bahuchet accompanied his words with such an expressive pantomime, that
it was impossible for Valentine not to understand that the little clerk
had another message for her, which he dared not deliver before a third
person. Her face brightened at once, and she said to the girl:
"Miretta, keep a close watch, be on your guard; and if you hear Monsieur
de Santoval coming, move a chair.--And now, Monsieur Bahuchet, explain
yourself; no more grimaces. What have you to say to me?"
"Does madame wish that I--before her femme de chambre?"
"I have no secrets from her. Speak at once."
After casting a glance about the room, Bahuchet took from his pocket the
letter he had concealed there.
"Madame, the document to be signed was only a pretext to gain access to
you. But here is a note which a young and handsome cavalier bade me hand
you in secret.--Please to read it; he is waiting for me close by, and
hopes for an answer."
Valentine took the letter and read it at once. An expression of joy, of
triumph, lighted up her face. The little clerk had respectfully walked
away, and could not hear the words which the marchioness, after reading
the note, muttered between her teeth:
"Aha! monsieur le comte! you ask for a rendezvous! You are very
impatient, now! But you go too fast!"
She beckoned Bahuchet to her side.
"Where was this note given to you?"
"Near by--at a wine shop."
"Do you know the person who gave it to you?"
"No, madame; but it was easy to guess that he was a nobleman."
"And he is waiting for you now?"
"Yes, madame; at the same place where he gave me his letter. What reply
shall I take to him?"
"None."
"What, madame! no letter, and no word?"
"You will simply tell him that I smiled when I read his letter, and that
I placed it--here."
Valentine, as she spoke, slipped the letter into her bosom.
At that moment, Miretta hurriedly moved a chair.
"My husband is coming--let me have the paper--quickly!"
"Here it is, madame; also a quill and an inkhorn; we always have them
about us.--Omit one of your baptismal names," he added, in an undertone;
"that will give me a pretext for coming again, and I fancy that it may
be necessary."
The Marquis de Santoval entered his wife's room and scrutinized the
little clerk, who bowed to the floor. The marquis paused in the middle
of the room, saying:
"I disturb you, madame; you have visitors."
"Not at all, monsieur. My aunt, Madame de Ravenelle, has sent her
solicitor's clerk with this document for me to sign. It is nothing very
interesting, as you see--the sale of an old house, I believe, is it
not?"
Bahuchet hastened to reply in his shrill falsetto:
"Yes, madame, the sale of the estate described herein, situated on Rue
de la Parcheminerie, which street takes its name from the guild of
workmen who once lived there, as the custom formerly was; so that we
have Rues de la Ferronnerie, de la Heaumerie, de la Coutellerie, and
many others. But as Paris increased in size----"
"Very good, young man, very good," said the marquis; "madame has signed,
I believe?"
"Yes, monsieur le marquis, that is true; and I have only to take my
leave."
And the little clerk pocketed the deed, saluted, and left the room.
Monsieur de Santoval remained for some time talking with his wife. But
when he had left her, he called his valet and said:
"Did you see a very small man, with his nose in the air, who went away
from the house not long ago?"
"Yes, monsieur le marquis."
"If he comes again to speak with madame, follow him when he goes away;
see where he goes, and ascertain whether he speaks to anybody on leaving
here. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, monsieur le marquis; and your orders shall be carried out."
"I rely upon it; for I am well aware of your zeal and intelligence."
XLIII
ANOTHER THRASHING
Léodgard was but partially satisfied with the result of his message. The
marchioness had smiled, and had placed the letter over her heart. To be
sure, that did not indicate that she was annoyed with him who had
written it; but it advanced his love affair very little.
"And now you have no excuse for going again to the marchioness's, have
you?" the count asked his messenger.
Whereupon the little clerk drew himself up, placed his hand proudly on
his hip, and replied with a self-satisfied air:
"We always have one, monseigneur; we are never at a loss for expedients,
God be praised! This time we told the lady to omit one of her names when
she signed the deed. That will suffice to require us to return for the
rectification of that error.--Ha! ha! that was not bad!--But if we had
not that pretext, we would invent a thousand others."
"Very good! I see that you are a sharp-witted youth."
"I dare to flatter myself that I am, seigneur."
"Take this money, and come again to this same wine shop four days hence;
I will then give you another letter for the marchioness."
"Agreed, monsieur le comte; and be sure that on that day I will arrange
still another pretext for returning to the house."
Four days later, Bahuchet, having concealed beneath his doublet a second
letter from Léodgard, and holding in his hand a large roll of paper
covered with another roll of parchment, containing the deed of transfer
which he expected would make many trips from the solicitor's office to
the Hôtel de Santoval, presented himself again at the latter place and
asked to speak with madame la marquise.
He was admitted without difficulty. This time Valentine was alone in her
room. When she saw the little clerk come in, parchment in hand, she
could not help smiling.
Bahuchet unrolled his parchment and said aloud:
"The last time that I had the honor to see madame la marquise, when she
signed this document she omitted one of her baptismal names; that
omission might, at some later time, give rise to discussion, to demands
for birth certificates; it might even result in making void the
conveyance which you wish to effect."
"Oh! it is quite possible, monsieur; I am very absent-minded."
Bahuchet, having walked to Valentine's side, produced the note which was
in his doublet and handed it to her with the document. The young woman
gave the preference to the love letter. She opened and read it, and
found therein renewed protestations of an everlasting passion, and the
same request for a rendezvous, at which the writer could express with
his voice the love that he felt for her.
Having read the letter, Valentine hastily concealed it in her alms
purse; then she said in an undertone to the young clerk, who questioned
her with his eyes:
"You will say that I am too closely watched at this moment. He must
wait."--Then she continued, speaking aloud: "Where shall I write the
name that I forgot, monsieur? I know nothing about your documents."
"Here, madame, if you please; then make a flourish under the word
inserted.--Omit one letter of the name," Bahuchet added, in an
undertone; "that will furnish me with a reason for coming again."
Valentine did what the little clerk suggested; whereupon he once more
rolled up the deed, carefully covered it with the parchment, and, bowing
low to the marchioness, left the house without seeing the Marquis de
Santoval.
He hastened to join Léodgard, to whom he repeated the verbal reply that
had been given him. The count stamped his foot impatiently, muttering:
"Wait!--Ah! then she does not share my love! And not to condescend to
write me a word! not to send me the slightest pledge, the veriest
trifle!--Can you go to the Hôtel de Santoval again?" he said to the
little clerk.
"Oh! yes, seigneur; I have arranged a little _plea in bar_--it is such a
simple matter in our profession! And the next time I will find another."
"In that case, return in a fortnight; that is a long time! but since she
will have it so--I will tell you then what you must do."
Bahuchet, having been handsomely paid once more, promised to be exact;
and he returned to his office, oblivious of the fact that he had been
followed on leaving the Hôtel de Santoval, and continued to be till he
had entered the office door.
The fortnight having passed, Bahuchet met Léodgard again at their usual
place of rendezvous.
"Go to the marchioness," said the count; "as my letters have obtained no
reply, you will not carry one this time; but you will say to her that I
entreat her to give you a word for me; add that, if she denies me this
favor, I am capable of committing the most imprudent acts in order to
see her.--Go--I will await your return; and I will double the usual sum
if you bring me a note from the marchioness."
"By Plumard's scalp!" said Bahuchet to himself, as he walked toward the
Hôtel de Santoval; "the lovely marchioness simply must write a few
words! I will grovel at her feet to obtain them.--Vertuchoux! this is a
right good trade! I am feathering my nest!--Let things go on like this
for a few months, and I shall have enough to set up for myself!--I will
keep a tavern adjoining the law courts; that is more amusing than
pettifogging.--Here is my charmer's house; I have my deed, I am all
armed--I will present myself boldly!"
Bahuchet knocked at the gate, which was opened to admit him, then
suddenly closed behind him. He smiled affably to the concierge, saying:
"I have come to request the honor of speaking with Madame la Marquise de
Santoval on business, from my employer's office."
And he was about to walk toward the vestibule leading to the main
staircase, when four servants suddenly appeared, lifted him up, carried
him to the carriage house, and there thrashed him mercilessly with
cudgels and stirrup leathers, paying no heed to his shrieks and his
entreaties.
The operation concluded, the valet de chambre, who had superintended it,
began to search the little Basochian, and did not release him until he
was certain that he bore no secret missive. Then he hustled him to the
gate, which was reopened, and, with a few parting blows of the stirrup
leathers, threw him into the street, saying:
"This is the way that you will be treated whenever you appear here."
"Oh! bigre! oh! my ribs! my loins! This is infamous--the villains! how
they went at it! Hoo! I shall be hunchbacked. What an ambush! Catch me
going there again, to their devilish hôtel! And I thought it a good
business!--A pretty business, on my word! I must be pretty sturdy to be
able to walk. Hoo! what a pity that it didn't occur to me to send
Plumard to do my errand to-day!"
Groaning and limping, Bahuchet arrived at the wine shop. Instead of
going in, he beckoned to Léodgard to join him, and said:
"Let us not stay near that house, monsieur le comte; it's not a safe
place! Perhaps they have a treat in store for you like the one I've just
received."
He then described the way he had been maltreated by the Marquis de
Santoval's servants.
"And they searched you?" asked Léodgard, apparently little moved by his
messenger's groans.
"Yes, seigneur, from top to bottom!"
"It is lucky that I gave you no letter to-day."
"Yes, seigneur; for I believe that in that case they would have killed
me on the spot.--Hoo! I am bruised to a jelly! I shall have a serious
illness!"
"Nonsense! a man should not be so delicate! Just for a few blows with a
cudgel!"
"A few blows? No, thanks, seigneur! they rained on my body like hail! If
you had been beaten like that----"
"I would have defended myself! I would have killed two or three of the
miserable lackeys!"
"Oh, yes! that would have been the finishing touch. I should have got
myself into a pretty pickle! to trot off to the Châtelet or the
Bastille, and rot there!"
"Nonsense! hold your peace and take this gold, which will heal your
wounds."
"Thanks, seigneur! I certainly do need to buy medicines, ointments to
rub my body."
"And before long you will be in condition to return to the marchioness's
house."
"Return to the Hôtel de Santoval? Merciful heaven!"
And, waiting to hear no more, Bahuchet ran off as fast as his bruised
legs allowed, and soon vanished from the count's sight.
"The coward!" exclaimed Léodgard, as he watched the little clerk's
flight; "he is afraid of the danger!--So this Marquis de Santoval has
suspicions; he plays the spy, he posts his servants in ambush! But it
will avail him nothing! If Valentine will second me, we will crush all
the obstacles that he may place between us!"
Some time had passed without any new occurrence, when Miretta one day
entered Maître Bourdinard's office, where Plumard was trying to detach
the last remaining piece of his plaster; while Bahuchet regaled himself
with a small ham and a bottle of superfine old wine, in which he
indulged himself with the proceeds of his visits to the Hôtel de
Santoval.
On recognizing the marchioness's young lady's-maid, Bahuchet turned pale
and swallowed a mouthful the wrong way, dreading a new cudgelling.
But the girl smiled at him and motioned that she wished to speak with
him in secret.
The little clerk regretfully quitted his ham and went out with Miretta,
who said to him when they reached a solitary spot:
"Are you willing to undertake a commission?"
"If it is to go to the Hôtel de Santoval again, never! I have had enough
of that!"
"No, it is not that, but to carry this note to him who sent you to my
mistress."
"Oh! that is a different matter."
"Here, this is for you; will you do the errand?"
Bahuchet at once placed in his belt the purse she handed him; then he
glanced at the note and said:
"But I see no address."
"What is the use? you know perfectly well for whom it is!"
"I beg pardon! I know perfectly well that it is for the young lord who
employed me; but I do not know that young lord; I know neither his name
nor his residence; I have never seen him, except in the cheap wine shop
where he always waited for me."
"And you do not know that he is Comte Léodgard de Marvejols?"
"The young Comte de Marvejols!--Peste!"
"You lie, Monsieur Bahuchet; for you told us about Comte Léodgard long
ago, and you knew him perfectly well then!"
"It is difficult to deceive you, my pretty brunette!" said Bahuchet,
scratching his ear; "I said that I didn't know the lover, because he
ordered me not to know him; but, between ourselves, I think we may speak
more frankly. It is a bargain; I will take the letter to the count."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"I know quite well that it is not with his wife. Say to your beautiful
mistress that her commission will be executed to-day.--She must have
pitied me when she learned how horribly I was maltreated in her house
the last time that I had the honor to call there?"
"We did not know about it until a long time after, and then only through
the indiscretion of one of the servants, upon whom absolute secrecy had
been enjoined."
"So that Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval got wind of something? Is the
man a tiger, a rhinoceros?"
"I know no more of him than you do, and I have no time to talk.--Adieu,
Monsieur Bahuchet; and do not forget to carry the letter to Comte
Léodgard!"
"It is as if he had it, piquant brunette!--By the way, are you still
inclined to assume the defence of the famous Giovanni?"
"Giovanni! Giovanni!" murmured Miretta, whose face had become deathly
pale; and she uttered a profound sigh.
"But I beg your pardon, my dear; I do not know why I speak to you of the
illustrious brigand, for they say that he has not shown himself in Paris
for more than six months--or, at all events, that he has not attacked
anybody--which makes it fair to presume that he has left our city! I'
faith, for my part, I am not sorry, and I wish him a pleasant journey;
let him go elsewhere to get himself hanged!"
Miretta walked sadly away, murmuring:
"Gone away! oh, yes! he has gone away! He has left France without me! He
has abandoned me--and still I cannot believe it!"
XLIV
PLACE ROYALE
It was not easy to obtain access to the Comte de Marvejols when one
called at the house in Rue de Bretonvilliers. But Bahuchet persisted,
although the concierge told him that the count did not choose to receive
visitors.
"Please to say to him that it is Bahuchet, the solicitor's clerk, the
young man of the little wine shop; and I will wager that your master
will receive me instantly."
The concierge ushered him into a room in the right wing, and went to the
wing at the rear, where Léodgard then was.
After waiting a long while, the concierge returned and said to the young
clerk:
"Monsieur le comte will come; wait."
"Why, in heaven's name, don't you take me to him? It seems to me that
that would be much simpler than to make him put himself out to come
here."
"Monsieur le comte never receives anybody in the wing that he occupies."
"Wolf's head! what mystery! what ceremony!" said Bahuchet to himself,
when he was alone. "If this Seigneur Léodgard were proscribed, condemned
to death, if the police had orders to pounce upon him, he could not
conceal himself more completely from observation!"
The count's appearance put an end abruptly to the little clerk's
conjectures.
"What brings you here? what do you want of me?" demanded Léodgard,
roughly.
"I have come, monsieur le comte, because I was told to come. I have come
from the marchioness."
"The marchioness! have you seen her?"
"No, monsieur le comte; but she sent her maid to me--a very pretty
brunette, on my word!"
"Well--go on!"
"Who handed me a note and bade me bring it to you."
"A letter from Valentine! Give it to me!"
Léodgard snatched the letter from Bahuchet's hands, and eagerly ran
through it.
"This letter requires no reply," he said to the little man, after
reading it. "You may retire."
Bahuchet made a faint grimace.
"Do you mean, monsieur le comte, that I am to go away like this, as I
came?"
Léodgard realized what he had forgotten, and hastily placed a gold piece
in the messenger's hand; whereupon Bahuchet withdrew with a radiant
face, making innumerable protestations of devotion.
When Léodgard was alone, he again read the note, which contained these
words only:
"Beginning to-morrow, try to be on Place Royale between twelve and
two o'clock. A girl who is wholly in my confidence will come--I
cannot now say on what day--and speak to you in my behalf.--Trust
to her, and do whatever she tells you."
The count pressed his lips to the letter, murmuring:
"Ah! you love me, Valentine! I was not in error! And the time drags with
you as with me! To-morrow I will be at the place she appoints--Place
Royale.--Place Royale! It is a pity that she selected that spot, so
near---- But what does it matter, after all? Doubtless it is the
proximity of Rue Sainte-Avoie that led her to make that selection. I
will go there."
At the period of our tale, the centre of Place Royale was a sort of
flower garden,--green turf embellished with flowers and surrounded by
trees. Everybody could walk there, and benches placed at short intervals
made it possible also to rest there, and read, while breathing the fresh
air.
The iron fence which surrounded the square at a later period was placed
there during the reign of Louis XIV, at the expense of the owners of the
surrounding houses, each of whom contributed a thousand livres toward
its construction. The bronze equestrian statue of Louis XIII was not
erected until 1639, and the events that we are narrating, beginning in
1634, have thus far brought us only to the autumn of 1637.
It was late in the month of October, but the weather was fair and mild;
so that there was a large number of people on Place Royale, where the
turf was still green, and some of the rosebushes still bore flowers. But
the habitués of the promenade consisted in great part of old men of the
quarter, who came there to sit in the sun, and young nursemaids, who
brought thither the children they had in charge, who could run about and
play on the grass at their ease. There were also divers couples of young
lovers, who made appointments to meet along the shady avenues, and
seated themselves on solitary benches to talk of their loves.--But why
need we tell that? Lovers are of all epochs and of all places of resort!
When Léodgard arrived on the square, he took pains to go to the point
farthest removed from the Hôtel de Marvejols, which his wife then
occupied. But the square was large; and between the avenues there were
spaces and trees which made it impossible to see from one end to the
other.
Having walked a few steps along the turf, he sat upon a bench, saying to
himself:
"I will wait for this girl whom the marchioness is to send me; she knows
me, doubtless, or else her mistress will have described me in such a way
that she cannot make a mistake."
Léodgard had been seated on the bench a few moments, gloomy thoughts
causing him little by little to forget that he was at a love rendezvous,
when a child about two years and a half old collided with him while
running by.
It was a little girl with a pink and white complexion, with long light
chestnut locks, already curling over her pure and noble brow. Her
deep-blue eyes were really larger than her mouth, and they had the
dawning expression of a sweet and kindly nature, instinct with
playfulness.
The lovely smiling mouth was formed by two lips, perhaps a trifle too
thick, which, however, denoted frankness and sincerity; whereas thin
lips always denote just the opposite. A pretty dimple on the chin put
the finishing touch to the fascinating beauty of the little angel, who,
laughing merrily, took refuge between the count's knees, where she
seemed to challenge her nurse to catch her.
Léodgard, roused so abruptly from his reflections, was surprised beyond
measure to see the child hiding between his legs; but she was so pretty,
her smile was so sweet as she looked up at the gentleman to whom she
seemed to appeal for protection, that he could not refrain from
admiring her and smoothing her hair.
"What a fascinating little girl!" he exclaimed.
A nursemaid soon appeared and said to the child:
"Well, well! what are you doing there, mademoiselle? You are disturbing
monsieur and annoying him! Come away quickly!"
A little voice, which could not as yet enunciate distinctly, but which
sounded very sweet to the ear, replied:
"No, I don't want to! You go and hide!"
"Once more, mademoiselle, come; monsieur will be angry!"
The little girl looked up at Léodgard as if to see whether he was, in
fact, going to scold her; and seeing nothing on his features to indicate
anger, she pressed still closer to him, laughing aloud--an expression of
the frank, unalloyed joy which one never experiences so fully as at that
age.
"This little girl is fascinating!" said the count, after kissing the
child on the forehead; "how old is she?"
"Nearly two and a half, monsieur."
"Her parents must idolize her?"
"Oh, yes! her mother loves her dearly, monsieur! And if madame had not
been a little indisposed for two or three days, she would have taken
mademoiselle out to walk as usual!"
"What lovely eyes! they are so soft and intelligent! She is not a
naughty girl, I am sure!"
"Oh, no! monsieur, she is very good--so everybody loves her. She is a
little mischievous sometimes--as at this moment, when she doesn't want
me to catch her.--But it's all in play, isn't it, Mademoiselle Blanche?"
"Blanche! Blanche!" murmured Léodgard, to whose mind that name recalled
his conversation with Jarnonville.--"Ah! so the little girl's name is
Blanche?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"And would it be out of place to ask her mother's name?"