NEW MAN OF THE NEW EMPIRE
It was now five years since the electors of Reuilly had sent the Comte de
Camors to the Corps Legislatif, and they had seen no cause to regret
their choice. He understood marvellously well their little local
interests, and neglected no occasion of forwarding them. Furthermore,
if any of his constituents, passing through Paris, presented themselves
at his small hotel on the Rue de l'Imperatrice--it had been built by an
architect named Lescande, as a compliment from the deputy to his old
friend--they were received with a winning affability that sent them back
to the province with softened hearts. M. de Camors would condescend to
inquire whether their wives or their daughters had borne them company;
he would place at their disposal tickets for the theatres and passes into
the Legislative Chamber; and would show them his pictures and his
stables. He also trotted out his horses in the court under their eyes.
They found him much improved in personal appearance, and even reported
affectionately that his face was fuller and had lost the melancholy cast
it used to wear. His manner, once reserved, was now warmer, without any
loss of dignity; his expression, once morose, was now marked by a
serenity at once pleasing and grave. His politeness was almost a royal
grace; for he showed to women--young or old, rich or poor, virtuous or
otherwise--the famous suavity of Louis the Fourteenth.
To his equals, as to his inferiors, his urbanity was perfection; for he
cultivated in the depths of his soul--for women, for his inferiors, for
his equals, and for his constituents--the same contempt.
He loved, esteemed, and respected only himself; but that self he loved,
esteemed, and respected as a god! In fact, he had now, realized as
completely as possible, in his own person, that almost superhuman ideal
he had conceived in the most critical hour of his life.
When he surveyed himself from head to foot in the mental mirror before
him, he was content! He was truly that which he wished to be. The
programme of his life, as he had laid it down, was faithfully carried
out.
By a powerful effort of his mighty will, he succeeded in himself
adopting, rather than disdaining in others, all those animal instincts
that govern the vulgar. These he believed fetters which bound the
feeble, but which the strong could use. He applied himself ceaselessly
to the development and perfection of his rare physical and intellectual
gifts, only that he might, during the short passage from the cradle to
the tomb, extract from them the greatest amount of pleasure. Fully
convinced that a thorough knowledge of the world, delicacy of taste and
elegance, refinement and the point of honor constituted a sort of moral
whole which formed the true gentleman, he strove to adorn his person with
the graver as well as the lighter graces. He was like a conscientious
artist, who would leave no smallest detail incomplete. The result of his
labor was so satisfactory, that M. de Camors, at the moment we rejoin
him, was not perhaps one of the best men in the world, but he was beyond
doubt one of the happiest and most amiable. Like all men who have
determined to cultivate ability rather than scrupulousness, he saw all
things developing to his satisfaction. Confident of his future, he
discounted it boldly, and lived as if very opulent. His rapid elevation
was explained by his unfailing audacity, by his cool judgment and neat
finesse, by his great connection and by his moral independence. He had a
hard theory, which he continually expounded with all imaginable grace:
"Humanity," he would say, "is composed of speculators!"
Thoroughly imbued with this axiom, he had taken his degree in the grand
lodge of financiers. There he at once made himself an authority by his
manner and address; and he knew well how to use his name, his political
influence, and his reputation for integrity. Employing all these, yet
never compromising one of them, he influenced men by their virtues, or
their vices, with equal indifference. He was incapable of meanness; he
never wilfully entrapped a friend, or even an enemy, into a disastrous
speculation; only, if the venture proved unsuccessful, he happened to get
out and leave the others in it. But in financial speculations, as in
battles, there must be what is called "food for powder;" and if one be
too solicitous about this worthless pabulum, nothing great can be
accomplished. So Camors passed as one of the most scrupulous of this
goodly company; and his word was as potential in the region of "the
rings," as it was in the more elevated sphere of the clubs and of the
turf.
Nor was he less esteemed in the Corps Legislatif, where he assumed the
curious role of a working member until committees fought for him. It
surprised his colleagues to see this elegant young man, with such fine
abilities, so modest and so laborious--to see him ready on the dryest
subjects and with the most tedious reports. Ponderous laws of local
interest neither frightened nor mystified him. He seldom spoke in the
public debates, except as a reporter; but in the committee he spoke
often, and there his manner was noted for its grave precision, tinged
with irony. No one doubted that he was one of the statesmen of the
future; but it could be seen he was biding his time.
The exact shade of his politics was entirely unknown. He sat in the
"centre left;" polite to every one, but reserved with all. Persuaded,
like his father, that the rising generation was preparing, after a time,
to pass from theories to revolution--and calculating with pleasure that
the development of this periodical catastrophe would probably coincide
with his fortieth year, and open to his blase maturity a source of new
emotions--he determined to wait and mold his political opinions according
to circumstances.
His life, nevertheless, had sufficient of the agreeable to permit him to
wait the hour of ambition. Men respected, feared, and envied him. Women
adored him.
His presence, of which he was not prodigal, adorned an entertainment: his
intrigues could not be gossiped about, being at the same time choice,
numerous, and most discreetly conducted.
Passions purely animal never endure long, and his were most ephemeral;
but he thought it due to himself to pay the last honors to his victims,
and to inter them delicately under the flowers of his friendship. He had
in this way made many friends among the Parisian women--a few only of
whom detested him. As for the husbands--they were universally fond of
him.
To these elegant pleasures he sometimes added a furious debauch, when his
imagination was for the moment maddened by champagne. But low company
disgusted him, and he shunned it; he was not a man for frequent orgies,
and economized his health, his energies, and his strength. His tastes
were as thoroughly elevated as could be those of a being who strove to
repress his soul. Refined intrigues, luxury in music, paintings, books,
and horses--these constituted all the joy of his soul, of his sense, and
of his pride. He hovered over the flowers of Parisian elegance; as a bee
in the bosom of a rose, he drank in its essence and revelled in its
beauty.
It is easy to understand that M. de Camors, relishing this prosperity,
attached himself more and more to the moral and religious creed that
assured it to him; that he became each day more and more confirmed in the
belief that the testament of his father and his own reflection had
revealed to him the true evangel of men superior to their species. He
was less and less tempted to violate the rules of the game of life; but
among all the useless cards, to hold which might disturb his system, the
first he discarded was the thought of marriage. He pitied himself too
tenderly at the idea of losing the liberty of which he made such
agreeable use; at the idea of taking on himself gratuitously the
restraints, the tedium, the ridicule, and even the danger of a household.
He shuddered at the bare thought of a community of goods and interest;
and of possible paternity.
With such views he was therefore but little disposed to encourage the
natural hopes in which Madame de Tecle had entombed her love. He
determined so to conduct himself toward her as to leave no ground for the
growth of her illusion. He ceased to visit Reuilly, remaining there but
two or three weeks in each year, as such time as the session of the
Council-General summoned him to the province.
It is true that during these rare visits Camors piqued himself on
rendering Madame de Tecle and M. des Rameures all the duties of
respectful gratitude. Yet avoiding all allusion to the past, guarding
himself scrupulously from confidential converse, and observing a frigid
politeness to Mademoiselle Marie, there remained doubt in his mind that,
the fickleness of the fair sex aiding him, the young mother of the girl
would renounce her chimerical project. His error was great: and it may
be here remarked that a hard and scornful scepticism may in this world
engender as many false judgments and erroneous calculations as candor or
even inexperience can. He believed too much in what had been written of
female fickleness; in deceived lovers, who truly deserved to be such;
and in what disappointed men had judged of them.
The truth is, women are generally remarkable for the tenacity of their
ideas and for fidelity to their sentiments. Inconstancy of heart is the
special attribute of man; but he deems it his privilege as well, and when
woman disputes the palm with him on this ground, he cries aloud as if the
victim of a robber.
Rest assured this theory is no paradox; as proven by the prodigies of
patient devotion--tenacious, inviolable--every day displayed by women of
the lower classes, whose natures, if gross, retain their primitive
sincerity. Even with women of the world, depraved though they be by the
temptations that assail them, nature asserts herself; and it is no rarity
to see them devote an entire life to one idea, one thought, or one
affection! Their lives do not know the thousand distractions which at
once disturb and console men; and any idea that takes hold upon them
easily becomes fixed. They dwell upon it in the crowd and in solitude;
when they read and while they sew; in their dreams and in their prayers.
In it they live--for it they die.
It was thus that Madame de Tecle had dwelt year after year on the project
of this alliance with unalterable fervor, and had blended the two pure
affections that shared her heart in this union of her daughter with
Camors, and in thus securing the happiness of both. Ever since she had
conceived this desire--which could only have had its birth in a soul as
pure as it was tender--the education of her child had become the sweet
romance of her life. She dreamed of it always, and of nothing else.
Without knowing or even suspecting the evil traits lurking in the
character of Camors, she still understood that, like the great majority
of the young men of his day, the young Count was not overburdened with
principle. But she held that one of the privileges of woman, in our
social system, was the elevation of their husbands by connection with a
pure soul, by family affections, and by the sweet religion of the heart.
Seeking, therefore, by making her daughter an amiable and lovable woman,
to prepare her for the high mission for which she was destined, she
omitted nothing which could improve her. What success rewarded her care
the sequel of this narrative will show. It will suffice, for the
present, to inform the reader that Mademoiselle de Tecle was a young girl
of pleasing countenance, whose short neck was placed on shoulders a
little too high. She was not beautiful, but extremely pretty, well
educated, and much more vivacious than her mother.
Mademoiselle Marie was so quick-witted that her mother often suspected
she knew the secret which concerned herself. Sometimes she talked too
much of M. de Camors; sometimes she talked too little, and assumed a
mysterious air when others spoke of him.
Madame de Tecle was a little disturbed by these eccentricities. The
conduct of M. de Camors, and his more than reserved bearing, annoyed her
occasionally; but when we love any one we are likely to interpret
favorably all that he does, or all that he omits to do. Madame de Tecle
readily attributed the equivocal conduct of the Count to the inspiration
of a chivalric loyalty. As she believed she knew him thoroughly, she
thought he wished to avoid committing himself, or awakening public
observation, before he had made up his mind.
He acted thus to avoid disturbing the repose of both mother and daughter.
Perhaps also the large fortune which seemed destined for Mademoiselle de
Tecle might add to his scruples by rousing his pride.
His not marrying was in itself a good augury, and his little fiancee was
reaching a marriageable age. She therefore did not despair that some day
M. de Camors would throw himself at her feet, and say, "Give her to met!"
If God did not intend that this delicious page should ever be written in
the book of her destiny, and she was forced to marry her daughter to
another, the poor woman consoled herself with the thought that all the
cares she lavished upon her would not be lost, and that her dear child
would thus be rendered better and happier.
The long months which intervened between the annual apparition of Camors
at Reuilly, filled up by Madame de Tecle with a single idea and by the
sweet monotony of a regular life, passed more rapidly than the Count
could have imagined. His own life, so active and so occupied, placed
ages and abysses between each of his periodical voyages. But Madame de
Tecle, after five years, was always only a day removed from the cherished
and fatal night on which her dream had begun. Since that period there
had been no break in her thoughts, no void in her heart, no wrinkle on
her forehead. Her dream continued young, like herself. But in spite of
the peaceful and rapid succession of her days, it was not without anxiety
that she saw the approach of the season which always heralded the return
of Camors.
As her daughter matured, she preoccupied herself with the impression she
would make on the mind of the Count, and felt more sensibly the solemnity
of the matter.
Mademoiselle Marie, as we have already stated, was a cunning little puss,
and had not failed to perceive that her tender mother chose habitually
the season of the convocation of the Councils-General to try a new style
of hair-dressing for her. The same year on which we have resumed our
recital there passed, on one occasion, a little scene which rather
annoyed Madame de Tecle. She was trying a new coiffure on Mademoiselle
Marie, whose hair was very pretty and very black; some stray and
rebellious portions had frustrated her mother's efforts.
There was one lock in particular, which in spite of all combing and
brushing would break away from the rest, and fall in careless curls.
Madame de Tecle finally, by the aid of some ribbons, fastened down the
rebellious curl:
"Now I think it will do," she said sighing, and stepping back to admire
the effect of her work.
"Don't believe it," said Marie, who was laughing and mocking. "I do not
think so. I see exactly what will happen: the bell rings--I run out--
my net gives way--Monsieur de Camors walks in--my mother is annoyed--
tableau!"
"I should like to know what Monsieur de Camors has to do with it?" said
Madame de Tecle.
Her daughter threw her arms around her neck--"Nothing!" she said.
Another time Madame de Tecle detected her speaking of M. de Camors in a
tone of bitter irony. He was "the great man"--"the mysterious
personage"--"the star of the neighborhood"--"the phoenix of guests in
their woods"--or simply "the Prince!"
Such symptoms were of so serious a nature as not to escape Madame de
Tecle.
In presence of "the Prince," it is true, the young girl lost her gayety;
but this was another cross. Her mother found her cold, awkward, and
silent--brief, and slightly caustic in her replies. She feared M. de
Camors would misjudge her from such appearances.
But Camors formed no judgment, good or bad; Mademoiselle de Tecle was for
him only an insignificant little girl, whom he never thought of for a
moment in the year.
There was, however, at this time in society a person who did interest him
very much, and the more because against his will. This was the Marquise
de Campvallon, nee de Luc d'Estrelles.
The General, after making the tour of Europe with his young wife, had
taken possession of his hotel in the Rue Vanneau, where he lived in great
splendor. They resided at Paris during the winter and spring, but in
July returned to their chateau at Campvallon, where they entertained in
great state until the autumn. The General invited Madame de Tecle and
her daughter, every year, to pass some weeks at Campvallon, rightly
judging that he could not give his young wife better companions. Madame
de Tecle accepted these invitations cheerfully, because it gave her an
opportunity of seeing the elite of the Parisian world, from whom the
whims of her uncle had always isolated her. For her own part, she did
not much enjoy it; but her daughter, by moving in the midst of such
fashion and elegance could thus efface some provincialisms of toilet or
of language; perfect her taste in the delicate and fleeting changes of
the prevailing modes, and acquire some additional graces. The young
Marquise, who reigned and scintillated like a bright star in these high
regions of social life, lent herself to the designs of her neighbor.
She seemed to take a kind of maternal interest in Mademoiselle de Tecle,
and frequently added her advice to her example. She assisted at her
toilet and gave the final touches with her own dainty hands; and the
young girl, in return, loved, admired, and confided in her.
Camors also enjoyed the hospitalities of the General once every season,
but was not his guest as often as he wished. He seldom remained at
Campvallon longer than a week. Since the return of the Marquise to
France he had resumed the relations of a kinsman and friend with her
husband and herself; but, while trying to adopt the most natural manner,
he treated them both with a certain reserve, which astonished the
General. It will not surprise the reader, who recollects the secret and
powerful reasons which justified this circumspection.
For Camors, in renouncing the greater part of the restraints which
control and bind men in their relations with one another, had religiously
intended to preserve one--the sentiment of honor. Many times, in the
course of this life, he had felt himself embarrassed to limit and fix
with certainty the boundaries of the only moral law he wished to respect.
It is easy to know exactly what is in the Bible; it is not easy to know
exactly what the code of honor commands.