at her in astonishment, but nothing could exceed that young person’s
calmness and composure. Mademoiselle Cheri and Mélanie were not much
used to private secretaries, and they had been so startled by Monsieur
de Latour’s sudden change of mind that nothing further could surprise
them. And, besides, as they had both urged him to secure Julie’s
companionship for Mélanie, they were hardly in a position to oppose him.
Louis then invited them to inspect his ancestral mansion, which he
professed, with the utmost politeness, to consider Monsieur de Latour’s
ancestral mansion likewise. The prospect of being established there
struck the fancy of them all. It was a unique pleasure, heretofore
out of the experience of each, and seemed like the beginning of one
of those idyls of times past when a party of congenial persons could
segregate themselves in some exquisite spot and keep the whole world at
bay.
Old Suzette had, by some hocus-pocus, acquired a supply of fruit and
cakes which she served on the terrace, meanwhile scrutinising the
party closely and coming rapidly to the conclusion that Monsieur Louis,
as she called him, was deeply in love with Mademoiselle Julie, and that
Mademoiselle Julie had a soft spot in her heart for Monsieur Louis.
As Louis stood on the terrace watching Julie’s graceful figure
disappearing in the shady path below, old Suzette came up, and planting
herself with both arms akimbo before him, said, with a broad smile:
“It is the young lady in black, and I have a secret to tell you,
monsieur. She is very much in love with you.”
At which Louis joyfully embraced her as he had done Monsieur de Latour,
and, printing a sounding kiss on her leathery old cheek, cried out:
“Do you think so? Heaven send you may be right!”
[Illustration]
V
A DUKE, A COMTESSE, A SOAP-BOILER, AND AN AUTO-CAR
The next ten days passed in a whirl of excitement for all of the people
associated with the Chateau of Montplaisir. Besides the work going on
at the chateau it was necessary to prepare the legal papers making
Louis the nephew of Monsieur de Latour, and this gave Monsieur de
Latour a valid excuse for Julie’s services. He discovered at once the
importance of making copies of everything he wished in his own round,
clear, clerk-like hand, for Julie’s writing was expansive and illegible
beyond description, so that really Monsieur de Latour acted more as her
private secretary than she did as private secretary to him. This, of
course, took up much time, and Monsieur de Latour did the hardest work
of his life during those ten days. He intrusted Julie, however, with
the task of forwarding and receiving his letters and documents, giving
emphatic orders that his copy, and not hers, of all those documents go
forth to the world, while hers were to be kept merely as duplicates.
Every morning Julie would appear on the terrace, the only spot
available, as the chateau swarmed with workmen. There, with her pretty
head bent over the rustic table used as a writing-table, she would
scribble away industriously, while Monsieur de Latour laboriously
copied every word that his charming amanuensis wrote. Louis hovered
around, wondering what was to be the outcome of Julie’s escapade.
One of the features of it was that on the second morning that Julie
arrived on the terrace she was soon followed by the appearance of the
Comtesse de Beauregard, her faithful attendant, General Granier, and
Eugène de Contiac, whom the old lady kept a strict watch upon lest he
should go to church or take to reading sermons. Monsieur de Latour
felt highly honoured at being tracked to his lair, so to speak, by so
great a lady as the Comtesse de Beauregard, and when she skipped up
to him and playfully prodded him with her parasol he was very much
delighted. He had invited her, it was true, to be his guest when
he should be in a position to entertain her, but it was extremely
gratifying to him that she should anticipate her formal visit in this
manner. He greeted her warmly, and Madame de Beauregard’s first speech
was:
“So you have a private secretary young enough to be your
granddaughter?” And, turning to Julie, she cried: “What is your name,
my dear?”
“I am Mademoiselle Julie de Courcey,” responded Julie, acting her part
quite as well as Madame de Beauregard.
“Very well--I like your independence, and this afternoon, if you will
come down to the promenade, we will have tea together.”
General Granier seemed to know Julie also, as did Eugène de Contiac,
but Monsieur de Latour, remembering that his private secretary’s
connections were high, was not surprised at this. Madame de Beauregard
insisted upon being shown through the chateau, and was so pleased with
it that she reminded Monsieur de Latour of his invitation to visit the
chateau, saying she meant to come and bring all her family and friends
and remain for several weeks as soon as the place was habitable.
“And remember, monsieur,” she continued roguishly. “I shall require at
least six rooms--a bedroom, dressing-room, and saloon for myself, a
bedroom for my maid, one for Eugène de Contiac, and one for my lawyer,
Monsieur Bertoux, when he arrives, because I foresee that I shall soon
have to change my will. Ever since my nephew here came within reach of
your estimable niece he has been going to the good very fast indeed.
I have reason to believe that he sneaks off to church secretly every
morning, and General Granier tells me he does not think I shall ever be
able to make a man of Eugène.”
Eugène at this looked very sheepish and mumbled:
“I haven’t been in bed before two o’clock a night since I came to
Dinard.”
“By the way,” cried Madame de Beauregard, “I sha’n’t require a room for
my niece and your ward. She is in Paris, nursing an old cousin of ours,
who has been quite ill.”
“But I thought,” responded Monsieur de Latour, a little puzzled,
“that you said she was in the country, and then you said she was in a
convent, and a few other places.”
“And now I say she is in Paris,” tartly replied Madame de Beauregard.
“My dear man, do you think that my niece, a girl brought up by me,
sticks in one place like a gate-post planted in the ground? No,
indeed! My niece has too much of the spirit and independence which my
nephew lacks. I don’t know how in the world Providence ever came to
make such a mistake as to send Julie into the world a girl, and this
milksop, Eugène de Contiac, a boy. But Providence does make ridiculous
blunders--there’s no doubt about that.”
Monsieur de Latour did not know whether this was heterodoxy or not, but
he did know that Madame de Beauregard was a comtesse of one of the
greatest families in France, and was coming to visit him, and thinking
Providence could take care of itself, made no attempt to defend its
acts.
“I shall be most pleased, madame,” he said gallantly, “if your niece
will accompany you when you pay me the visit you promise, and I need
not say that the whole chateau will be at your disposal, and in this,
my nephew, I am sure, will unite with me.”
To this Louis assented politely, but in truth knew not whether to
be more frightened or pleased at Madame de Beauregard’s threatened
invasion of the chateau. Her presence, it was true, would give a
certain protection to Julie when her escapade was found out, as it must
be, but the old lady was such a persistent encourager of everything in
the nature of a lark that there was no telling what would happen if she
were on the spot to goad Julie on.
Madame de Beauregard then launched out into a description of her
latest fad, automobiling in her sixty-horse-power motor-car, and in
these adventures she had the assistance of General Granier and of
a semi-royal duke as old and as kittenish as herself. She cackled
with delight when she told of running into ditches, lamp-posts,
shop-windows, cows, and pedestrians, and of the car turning somersaults
and scattering its occupants all over the place. She wound up by
inviting Monsieur de Latour to accompany her on an expedition that
afternoon, with the semi-royal duke and General Granier, and she
guaranteed her machine would do sixty miles the hour continuously.
Monsieur de Latour turned pale at the proposition, and paler still
when General Granier mentioned that in the last upset his leg, which
he always carried loaded, had accidentally gone off and sent a bullet
through the hat of the semi-royal duke.
“Do you mean to say,” asked Monsieur de Latour in a shocked voice, of
General Granier, “that you keep that leg loaded on these expeditions?”
“Certainly,” answered General Granier, grinning, “I am practising a new
feat, shooting at objects as we bowl along at sixty miles an hour.”
“But when you are upset, which seems to occur every time you go out? I
should not like to have been in the duke’s place in that last accident.”
“My dear man,” gaily interrupted Madame de Beauregard, “we are not
upset more than two or three times a week. And the duke did not mind
having his hat spoiled. After all, you can buy a very good hat anywhere
for fifteen francs.”
This view of the accident was novel to Monsieur de Latour, but the
notion of appearing on the streets of Dinard in a motor-car with
Madame de Beauregard and a semi-royal duke, the glorious reputation
he would acquire of being a sad dog, the commotion it would make at
Brionville, and, above all, the acute misery he imagined it would
cause Mademoiselle Cheri, were vastly attractive to him. Madame de
Beauregard, however, was not in the habit of leaving gentlemen any
choice in accepting her invitations, and demanded that Monsieur de
Latour should meet her at a certain place in the town that afternoon at
four o’clock. She took a great deal of notice of both Louis and Julie,
but did not ask them to accompany her upon the proposed motor-car
expedition.
The old lady then departed with her suite. Monsieur de Latour, torn
with conflicting emotions about the automobile party, was quite unequal
to any work that day, and Louis volunteering to answer some routine
letters for him according to general directions, Monsieur de Latour
left the two at the writing-table on the terrace, where they spent most
of the morning. Monsieur de Latour, wandering like an unquiet ghost
about the chateau trying to make up his mind whether he should risk his
neck or not in the auto-car that afternoon, noticed vaguely that Louis
and Julie appeared to have a great deal to say to each other as they
sat at the writing-table in the morning glow and scribbled at intervals.
When Julie took her departure for the Villa Rose shortly after one
o’clock Louis went in search of Monsieur de Latour, who was found
sitting in one of the deserted rooms, his head in his hands.
“My dear uncle,” asked Louis, “what is the matter?”
“I am considering,” gloomily responded Monsieur de Latour, his ears
still in his hands, “whether it is worth while to risk my neck in that
auto-car trip this afternoon or not. Besides the danger of being upset
and of being run into, there is that terrible risk of being shot by
General Granier’s leg.”
“Or drowned,” solemnly added Louis. “The last accident that Madame de
Beauregard had the auto-car ran into the sea and headed for the bottom
like a submarine boat.”
Monsieur de Latour groaned.
“But you must not flinch,” continued Louis sternly. “You, who aspire
to the headship of the house of De Latour, afraid of being drowned
or crushed or shot! The De Latours are hard to kill. Have you never
heard of that distinguished ancestor of mine who determined to commit
suicide because a lady had preferred the favour of the great Napoleon
to himself? He swallowed a dose of poison, tied a rope around his
neck, took a cocked pistol in his hand, and jumped overboard in the
determination to meet death either by poison, hanging, shooting,
or drowning. He swallowed so much salt water that he got rid of the
poison, and, firing his pistol, cut the rope and was rescued without
being in the least injured.”
“Pray Heaven his fate may be mine,” was Monsieur de Latour’s pious
comment.
Louis continued urging him, and finally Monsieur de Latour screwed up
his courage to the point of making an elaborate toilet and meeting his
appointment with Madame de Beauregard at four o’clock. As soon as he
had disappeared and might be supposed to be out of the town of Dinard,
Louis sallied forth to pay a visit to the ladies at the Villa Rose.
It was not yet five o’clock when he arrived, but on being ushered into
the garden, there he found Julie sitting with a piece of needlework in
her hand and a look of infantile innocence on her face. Mademoiselle
Cheri, who saw from her window Louis’s arrival, came down promptly into
the garden; nevertheless, Louis and Julie had a delicious five minutes
together, for every moment they spent alone was like paradise to both
of them. Then Mélanie appeared, and Louis exerting all his powers
to please, which were considerable, charmed Mademoiselle Cheri and
Mélanie almost as much as he did Julie. They had tea merrily together,
and it seemed scarcely an hour had passed since Louis’s arrival when
they heard a neighbouring clock strike seven.
At the same moment Monsieur de Latour entered the garden. He was a
pitiable-looking object. One side of him was all mud and the other side
of him all dust, his hat was battered, his coat totally wrecked, and he
limped slightly. To the anxious inquiries of the ladies he only replied
shortly:
“I have been automobiling with Madame de Beauregard.”
“You have got out of it better than most people,” remarked Louis.
“Yes,” said Monsieur de Latour, “I have, on the whole, been fortunate.
General Granier kept up a continual fusillade and succeeded in potting
a cow and a calf. He fired over my shoulder and under my legs, and, I
need not say, made me very uneasy. As for that devil of a chauffeur, I
believe he did his best to upset us, egged on by Madame de Beauregard
and the duke. None of them except me seemed afraid of anything--but I
candidly admit that the next time Madame de Beauregard asks me to go
automobiling I shall take the first train for Paris. Give me some tea,
Mélanie, for Heaven’s sake, and let me go to bed and rest my nerves.”
Which he proceeded to do as soon as he had disposed of his tea.
By eight o’clock he was sound asleep in bed. Just as he was comfortably
tucked in he heard a tremendous commotion in front of the villa. Madame
de Beauregard had come to ask him to go upon a moonlight expedition in
the motor-car, but this Monsieur de Latour firmly declined to do, and
for fear Madame de Beauregard should come up and drag him out of bed he
locked and double-locked the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he
heard the auto-car clattering away in the distance.
[Illustration: “‘I have been automobiling with Madame de Beauregard.’”]
For several days after the auto-car expedition Monsieur de Latour was
laid up for repairs; but he was nevertheless able, though somewhat
dilapidated, to get about, and especially to superintend the work
being done at the Chateau of Montplaisir. He did not, however, do
any more automobiling with Madame de Beauregard, although the old
lady pursued him to that end in such a way that she declared she was
afraid every rag of her reputation would be lost. It was in vain that
she offered him the inducement of the semi-royal duke’s society and
other very great people. Monsieur de Latour was firm in declining.
He loved rank and high-sounding names, but he loved his own carcass
better than either and refused to risk it. He made business his excuse,
and required Julie’s services every day at the chateau; and Julie was
always promptly on hand.
But, with the single exception of being always on the spot at the
moment, Julie’s ideas of business were rudimentary. After a day
or two, when replies to his letters began to come in, Monsieur de
Latour discovered a peculiarity of Julie’s, which was that it seemed
impossible she should write any communication without omitting at least
one word. It was rarely more than one, and generally, as Julie urged in
extenuation, a very little one, an “an” or a “but,” but it was always
at a critical point and invariably resulted in endless confusion and
misunderstandings. At first Monsieur de Latour, meaning to instruct
Julie in the art of transacting the business of a private secretary,
remonstrated with her kindly. Julie took these remonstrances in the
most amiable manner possible, made profuse apologies and promises to
reform, and repeated the mistake as soon as possible thereafter. Then
Monsieur de Latour attempted to be stern, and Julie, with a sidelong
glance of her beautiful eyes, explained that, much as she sought to be
exact, it was impossible for her to be so because he was so interesting
she was always wondering about him, whether he had been happy all his
life, and if he had ever had a real love-affair, and how many women had
wished to marry him. At that Monsieur de Latour’s mouth, in spite of
him, came open like a rat-trap, and there was nothing more to be said.
Again he was seriously vexed. By Julie’s process he was made to declare
that a pair of carriage-horses which he had sold for a high price, had
not four good legs between them, and that he knew it at the time of
selling. When this was traced home to Julie she laughed delightedly and
cried:
“But you got the money, didn’t you, monsieur? What difference does it
make about the horses’ legs?”
“It makes a great deal of difference,” replied Monsieur de Latour
grimly, “whether a horse has four legs or two.”
“Then,” cried Julie, clapping her hands, “why not write and tell the
person who bought the horses all about General Granier’s leg? That will
amuse him, and then he will forget that the horses you sold him only
had four good legs between them.”
“Mademoiselle!” roared Monsieur de Latour, now fairly roused.
But before he could say another word Julie jumped up and, blowing him a
couple of kisses from her finger-tips, cried:
“There, there, don’t worry about it! You have got the money and you’ve
sold two worthless horses for the price of a pair of good ones and
that’s all--my time is up--come to tea at five--adieu!” And she ran
off.
This was certainly very provoking, thought Monsieur de Latour, but he
had been so determined on securing Julie’s presence he was loath to
admit what Mademoiselle Cheri had said from the beginning, that Julie
was not fitted to be a private secretary.
Meanwhile preparations for the house party went on famously, and
Monsieur de Latour, who had among his other virtues a true hospitality,
looked forward with pleasure to having the chateau full of guests.
Louis insisted that Monsieur de Latour should play the host quite as
much as himself, and Monsieur de Latour was more than willing.
He had asked Madame de Beauregard several times about his ward,
Mademoiselle de Brésac, and had sent her a cordial invitation to join
the party at the chateau. But Mademoiselle de Brésac appeared to be a
will-o’-the-wisp--so much so that Monsieur de Latour one day remarked
to Louis, as Madame de Beauregard with her party in a magnificent red
devil whizzed past them on the road:
“I think there is some mystery about my ward, Mademoiselle de Brésac.
I find it impossible to get from Madame de Beauregard Mademoiselle
de Brésac’s actual abiding-place. One day she is in the country near
here, another day she is in a convent at St. Malo, another time she is
nursing an invalid cousin at Paris, yesterday she was making a visit
to England, and this morning Madame de Beauregard tells me she is in
Switzerland. She appears to be quite as gay as her aunt.”
“Yes,” assented Louis, “but I have reason to know that she is very
charming.”
“I wish very much that she could join our party at the chateau for
next week. Can you contrive to find out where she is and to secure her
presence?”
“I think, possibly,” replied Louis meditatively as they walked along
the sunny street, “I might do so.”
“It would be a real gratification to me, and it would add to the
obligations I already owe you, for, my dear Louis, I appreciate very
much your politeness to me and to my niece, and also to Mademoiselle
Cheri. There are some things in our agreement which cannot be reckoned
in money, and one of them is your courtesy to my family. It is evident
that you are not ashamed of us.”
“Far from it,” replied Louis. “You know the pride and delight I take in
you, the very flower of the De Latours, and I am more than pleased to
acknowledge Mélanie as my cousin.”
It was with genuine enjoyment that Monsieur de Latour, on the tenth
day after the influx of workmen in the chateau, saw the last of
them depart and awaited the arrival of a house party consisting of
Mademoiselle Cheri and his niece, of Julie, whom he positively declared
it impossible to transact business without, and whom it was equally
impossible to transact business with, of Madame de Beauregard and
Eugène de Contiac. Monsieur de Latour had felt some compunction at
not inviting General Granier to stay at the chateau, but although
his present inclination was that Madame de Beauregard was entirely
too old for him and Julie just the right age, yet he decided that
General Granier, with his military air, his title as general, and his
interesting wooden leg, was too dangerous a rival. As a matter of fact,
General Granier had endless stories to tell of his prowess with his
leg, of various kinds of game brought down, the snuffing of candles,
the hitting of bull’s-eyes and all the other achievements of a crack
shot. Madame de Beauregard had frankly asked, and even insisted, that
General Granier should be invited, but the more she insisted the less
inclined Monsieur de Latour was to bring the fascinating old general
into competition with himself.
“To tell you the truth, madame,” he had said to the Comtesse de
Beauregard, “I am afraid of that leg of General Granier’s. I believe
it is always loaded, and is liable to go off at any time. Now, suppose
we were sitting at dinner, for example, and the general should
inadvertently clap his hand into his pocket and touch the trigger--what
do you suppose would happen?”
“That would depend altogether upon the direction of the leg, my dear
man,” replied Madame de Beauregard, who often addressed Monsieur de
Latour in this familiar manner. “For my part I find General Granier’s
leg far more interesting than his head, and I am not in the least
afraid of either. However, I shall ask him up to tea every afternoon,
and you can invite him to remain to dinner, and if you don’t I will.”
Such was the lady whom Monsieur de Latour had invited to pay him a
visit. It even occurred to him that it was just as well his ward,
Mademoiselle de Brésac, did not see very much of her aunt, and out of
regard for her father’s memory Monsieur de Latour would have welcomed
the marriage of Julie de Brésac so that he could see her in the hands
of a discreet husband.
However, all these misgivings were in abeyance on the August afternoon
when Monsieur de Latour, with Louis, made a final inspection of the
wing of the chateau which had been made habitable. Wonders had been
worked by the army of artisans. The walls and ceilings which showed age
and decay most were covered, when possible, with draperies, pictures,
and mirrors. The discoloured floors were concealed by costly rugs, and
car-loads of furniture had been distributed among the great rooms. A
large domestic staff had arrived from Brionville, and Suzette had been
deposed as major-domo, cook, and house-maid. Her services, however, as
valet were retained by Louis, who declared his intention of teaching
her to shave him, as she already dressed him.
Suzette was delighted at the turn affairs had taken, for she had
become much attached to Louis in the days of his poverty and rejoiced
in his prosperity. Louis, himself, felt as if he were taking part in
the adventures of Aladdin, and walked about the chateau in a dazed
fashion, wondering if the gilt chairs were real or if the rugs were
not an optical illusion. Daily his gratitude became more effervescent,
and he implored from Monsieur de Latour the privilege of embracing him
at least four instead of three times a day; this, however, Monsieur de
Latour promptly refused.
“But I must embrace something,” cried Louis in the exuberance of
feeling.
“Then go and try your hand on Madame de Beauregard,” replied Monsieur
de Latour.
Louis misinterpreted this recommendation, and within half an hour
afterward came very near being caught by Monsieur de Latour in the act
of embracing Julie. For Julie was sitting in her usual place on the
terrace before the writing-table, waiting for Monsieur de Latour to
arrive, when Louis, stealing up to her, whispered in her ear: