About an hour had elapsed since Mrs. Grivois had seen or pretended to
have seen Adrienne de Cardoville re-enter in the morning the extension
of Saint-Dizier House.
It is for the purpose, not of excusing, but of rendering intelligible,
the following scenes, that it is deemed necessary to bring out into the
light some striking peculiarities in the truly original character of
Miss de Cardoville.
This originality consisted in an excessive independence of mind, joined
to a natural horror of whatsoever is repulsive or deformed, and to
an insatiable desire of being surrounded by everything attractive and
beautiful. The painter most delighted with coloring and beauty, the
sculptor most charmed by proportions of form, feel not more than
Adrienne did the noble enthusiasm which the view of perfect beauty
always excites in the chosen favorites of nature.
And it was not only the pleasures of sight which this young lady
loved to gratify: the harmonious modulations of song, the melody of
instruments, the cadences of poetry, afforded her infinite pleasures;
while a harsh voice or a discordant noise made her feel the same painful
impression, or one nearly as painful as that which she involuntarily
experienced from the sight of a hideous object. Passionately fond of
flowers, too, and of their sweet scents, there are some perfumes which
she enjoyed equally with the delights of music or those of plastic
beauty. It is necessary, alas, to acknowledge one enormity: Adrienne was
dainty in her food! She valued more than any one else the fresh pulp
of handsome fruit, the delicate savor of a golden pheasant, cooked to a
turn, and the odorous cluster of a generous vine.
But Adrienne enjoyed all these pleasures with an exquisite reserve. She
sought religiously to cultivate and refine the senses given her. She
would have deemed it black ingratitude to blunt those divine gifts by
excesses, or to debase them by unworthy selections of objects upon which
to exercise them; a fault from which, indeed, she was preserved by the
excessive and imperious delicacy of her taste.
The BEAUTIFUL and the UGLY occupied for her the places which GOOD and
EVIL holds for others.
Her devotion to grace, elegance, and physical beauty, had led her also
to the adoration of moral beauty; for if the expression of a low and bad
passion render uncomely the most beautiful countenances, those which
are in themselves the most ugly are ennobled, on the contrary, by the
expression of good feelings and generous sentiments.
In a word, Adrienne was the most complete, the most ideal
personification of SENSUALITY--not of vulgar, ignorant, non intelligent,
mistaken sensuousness which is always deceit ful and corrupted by habit
or by the necessity for gross and ill-regulated enjoyments, but that
exquisite sensuality which is to the senses what intelligence is to the
soul.
The independence of this young lady’s character was extreme. Certain
humiliating subjections imposed upon her success by its social position,
above all things were revolting to her, and she had the hardihood
to resolve to withdraw herself from them. She was a woman, the most
womanish that it is possible to imagine--a woman in her timidity as well
as in her audacity--a woman in her hatred of the brutal despotism of
men, as well as in her intense disposition to self-devoting herself,
madly even and blindly, to him who should merit such a devotion from
her--a woman whose piquant wit was occasionally paradoxical--a superior
woman, in brief, who entertained a well-grounded disdain and contempt
for certain men either placed very high or greatly adulated, whom she
had from time to time met in the drawing-room of her aunt, the Princess
Saint-Dizier, when she resided with her.
These indispensable explanations being given, we usher, the reader into
the presence of Adrienne de Cardoville, who had just come out of the
bath.
It would require all the brilliant colorings of the Venetian school to
represent that charming scene, which would rather seem to have occurred
in the sixteenth century, in some palace of Florence or Bologna, than in
Paris, in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, in the month of February, 1832.
Adrienne’s dressing-room was a kind of miniature temple seemingly one
erected and dedicated to the worship of beauty, in gratitude to the
Maker who has lavished so many charms upon woman, not to be neglected by
her, or to cover and conceal them with ashes, or to destroy them by
the contact of her person with sordid and harsh haircloth; but in order
that, with fervent gratitude for the divine gifts wherewith she is
endowed, she may enhance her charms with all the illusions of grace and
all the splendors of apparel, so as to glorify the divine work of her
own perfections in the eyes of all. Daylight was admitted into this
semicircular apartment, through one of those double windows, contrived
for the preservation of heat, so happily imported from Germany. The
walls of the pavilion being constructed of stone of great thickness, the
depth of the aperture for the windows was therefore very great. That of
Adrienne’s dressing-room was closed on the outside by a sash containing
a single large pane of plate glass, and within, by another large plate
of ground glass. In the interval or space of about three feet left
between these two transparent enclosures, there was a case or box filled
with furze mould, whence sprung forth climbing plants, which, directed
round the ground glass, formed a rich garland of leaves and flowers. A
garnet damask tapestry, rich with harmoniously blended arabesques, in
the purest style, covered the walls and a thick carpet of similar color
was extended over the floor: and this sombre ground, presented by the
floor and walls, marvellously enhanced the effects of all the harmonious
ornaments and decorations of the chamber.
Under the window, opposite to the south, was placed Adrienne’s dressing
case, a real masterpiece of the skill of the goldsmith. Upon a large
tablet of lapis-lazuli, there were scattered boxes of jewels, their
lids precisely enamelled; several scent boxes of rock crystal, and other
implements and utensils of the toilet, some formed of shells, some of
mother-of-pearl, and others of ivory, covered with ornaments of gold in
extraordinary taste. Two large figures, modelled in silver with antique
purity; supported an oval swing mirror, which had for its rim, in place
of a frame curiously carved, a fresh garland of natural flowers, renewed
every day like a nosegay for a ball.
Two enormous Japanese vases, of purple and gold, three feet each in
diameter, were placed upon the carpet on each side of the toilet, and,
filled with camellias, ibiscures, and cape jasmine, in full flower
formed a sort of grove, diversified with the most brilliant colors. At
the farther end of the apartment, opposite the casement, was to be seen,
surrounded by another mass of flowers, a reduction in white marble of
the enchanting group of Daphnis and Chloe, the more chaste ideal of
graceful modesty and youthful beauty.
Two golden lamps burned perfumes upon the same pedestal which supported
those two charming figures. A coffer of frosted silver, set off with
small figures in jewelry and precious stones, and supported on four
feet of gilt bronze, contained various necessaries for the toilette;
two frosted Psyches, decorated with diamond ear-rings; some excellent
drawings from Raphael and Titian, painted by Adrienne herself,
consisting of portraits of both men and women of exquisite beauty;
several consoles of oriental jasper, supporting ewers and basins of
silver and of silver gilt, richly chased and filled with scented waters;
a voluptuously rich divan, some seats, and an illuminated gilt fable,
completed the furniture of this chamber, the atmosphere of which was
impregnated with the sweetest perfumes.
Adrienne, whom her attendants had just helped from the bath, was seated
before her toilette, her three women surrounding her. By a caprice, or
rather by a necessary and logical impulse of her soul, filled as it
was with the love of beauty and of harmony in all things, Adrienne had
wished the young women who served her to be very pretty, and be dressed
with attention and with a charming originality. We have already seen
Georgette, a piquante blonde, attired in her attractive costume of an
intriguing lady’s maid of Marivaux; and her two companions were quite
equal to her both in gracefulness and gentility.
One of them, named Florine, a tall, delicately slender, and elegant
girl, with the air and form of Diana Huntress, was of a pale brown
complexion. Her thick black hair was turned up behind, where it was
fastened with a long golden pin. Like the two other girls, her arms were
uncovered to facilitate the performance of her duties about and upon the
person of her charming mistress. She wore a dress of that gay green so
familiar to the Venetian painters. Her petticoat was very ample. Her
slender waist curved in from under the plaits of a tucker of white
cambric, plaited in five minute folds, and fastened by five gold
buttons. The third of Adrienne’s women had a face so fresh and
ingenuous, a waist so delicate, so pleasing, and so finished, that her
mistress had given her the name of Hebe. Her dress of a delicate rose
color, and Grecian cut, displayed her charming neck, and her beautiful
arms up to the very shoulders. The physiognomy of these three young
women was laughter loving and happy. On their features there was no
expression of that bitter sullenness, willing and hated obedience, or
offensive familiarity, or base and degraded deference, which are the
ordinary results of a state of servitude. In the zealous eagerness of
the cares and attentions which they lavished upon Adrienne, there seemed
to be at least as much of affection as of deference and respect. They
appeared to derive an ardent pleasure from the services which they
rendered to their lovely mistress. One would have thought that they
attached to the dressing and embellishment of her person all the merits
and the enjoyment arising from the execution of a work of art, in the
accomplishing of which, fruitful of delights, they were stimulated by
the passions of love, of pride, and of joy.
The sun beamed brightly upon the toilet-case, placed in front of the
window. Adrienne was seated on a chair, its back elevated a little
more than usual. She was enveloped in a long morning-gown of blue silk,
embroidered with a leaf of the same color, which was fitted close to her
waist, as exquisitely slender and delicate as that of a child of twelve
years, by a girdle with floating tags. Her neck, delicately slender
and flexible as a bird’s, was uncovered, as were also her shoulders and
arms, and all were of incomparable beauty. Despite the vulgarity of
the comparison, the purest ivory alone can give an idea of the dazzling
whiteness of her polished satin skin, of a texture so fresh and so firm,
that some drops of water, collected and still remaining about the
roots of her hair from the bath, rolled in serpentine lines over her
shoulders, like pearls, or beads, of crystal, over white marble.
And what gave enhanced lustre to this wondrous carnation, known but to
auburn-headed beauties, was the deep purple of her, humid lips,--the
roseate transparency of her small ears, of her dilated nostrils, and
her nails, as bright and glossy, as if they had been varnished. In every
spot, indeed, where her pure arterial blood, full of animation and
heat, could make its way to the skin and shine through the surface, it
proclaimed her high health and the vivid life and joyous buoyancy of her
glorious youth. Her eyes were very large, and of a velvet softness. Now
they glanced, sparkling and shining with comic humor or intelligence
and wit; and now they widened and extended themselves, languishing and
swimming between their double fringes of long crisp eyelashes, of as
deep a black as her finely-drawn and exquisitely arched eyebrows; for,
by a delightful freak of nature, she had black eyebrows and eyelashes to
contrast with the golden red of her hair. Her forehead, small like those
of ancient Grecian statues, formed with the rest of her face a perfect
oval. Her nose, delicately curved, was slightly aquiline; the enamel of
her teeth glistened when the light fell upon them; and her vermeil
mouth voluptuously sensual, seemed to call for sweet kisses, and the
gay smiles and delectations of dainty and delicious pleasure. It is
impossible to behold or to conceive a carriage of the head freer, more
noble, or more elegant than hers; thanks to the great distance which
separated the neck and the ear from their attachment to her outspread
and dimpled shoulders. We have already said that Adrienne was
red-haired; but it was the redness of many of the admirable portraits
of women by Titian and Leonardo da Vinci,--that is to say, molten gold
presents not reflections more delightfully agreeable or more glittering,
than the naturally undulating mass of her very long hair, as soft and
fine as silk, so long, that, when let loose, it reached the floor; in
it, she could wholly envelop herself, like another Venus arising from
the sea. At the present moment, Adrienne’s tresses were ravishing to
behold; Georgette, her arms bare, stood behind her mistress, and had
carefully collected into one of her small white hands, those splendid
threads whose naturally ardent brightness was doubled in the sunshine.
When the pretty lady’s-maid pulled a comb of ivory into the midst of
the undulating and golden waves of that enormously magnificent skein of
silk, one might have said that a thousand sparks of fire darted forth
and coruscated away from it in all directions. The sunshine, too,
reflected not less golden and fiery rays from numerous clusters of
spiral ringlets, which, divided upon Adrienne’s forehead, fell over her
cheeks, and in their elastic flexibility caressed the risings of her
snowy bosom, to whose charming undulations they adapted and applied
themselves. Whilst Georgette, standing, combed the beautiful locks of
her mistress, Hebe, with one knee upon the floor, and having upon
the other the sweet little foot of Miss Cardoville, busied herself in
fitting it with a remarkably small shoe of black satin, and crossed its
slender ties over a silk stocking of a pale yet rosy flesh color, which
imprisoned the smallest and finest ankle in the world. Florine, a little
farther back, presented to her mistress, in a jeweled box, a perfumed
paste, with which Adrienne slightly rubbed her dazzling hands
and outspread fingers, which seemed tinted with carmine to their
extremities. Let us not forget Frisky, who, couched in the lap of
her mistress, opened her great eyes with all her might, and seemed to
observe the different operations of Adrienne’s toilette with grave and
reflective attention. A silver bell being sounded from without, Florine,
at a sign from her mistress, went out and presently returned, bearing
a letter upon a small silver-gilt salve. Adrienne, while her women
continued fitting on her shoes, dressing her hair, and arranging her in
her habiliments, took the letter, which was written by the steward of
the estate of Cardoville, and read aloud as follows:
“HONORED MADAME,
“Knowing your goodness of heart and generosity, I venture to address you
with respectful confidence. During twenty years I served the late Count
and Duke of Cardoville, your noble father, I believe I may truly say,
with probity and zeal. The castle is now sold; so that I and my wife, in
our old age, behold ourselves about to be dismissed, and left destitute
of all resources: which, alas! is very hard at our time of life.”
“Poor creature!” said Adrienne, interrupting herself in reading: “my
father, certainly, always prided himself upon their devotion to him, and
their probity.” She continued:
“There does, indeed, remain to us a means of retaining our place
here; but it would constrain us to be guilty of baseness; and, be the
consequences to us what they may, neither I nor my wife wish to purchase
our bread at such a price.”
“Good, very good,” said Adrienne, “always the same--dignity even in
poverty--it is the sweet perfume of a flower, not the less sweet because
it has bloomed in a meadow.”
“In order to explain to you, honored madame, the unworthy task exacted
from us, it is necessary to inform you, in the first place, that M.
Rodin came here from Paris two days ago.”
“Ah! M. Rodin!” said Mademoiselle de Cardoville, interrupting herself
anew; “the secretary of Abbe d’Aigrigny! I am not at all surprised at
him being engaged in a perfidious or black intrigue. But let us see.”
“M. Rodin came from Paris to announce to us that the estate was sold,
and that he was sure of being able to obtain our continuance in our
place, if we would assist him in imposing a priest not of good character
upon the new proprietress as her future confessor; and if, the better
to attain this end, we would consent to calumniate another priest,
a deserving and excellent man, much loved and much respected in the
country. Even that is not all. I was required to write twice or thrice
a week to M. Rodin, and to relate to him everything that should occur in
the house. I ought to acknowledge, honored madame, that these infamous
proposals were as much as possible disguised and dissimulated under
sufficiently specious pretexts; but, notwithstanding the aspect which
with more or less skill it was attempted to give to the affair, it was
precisely and substantially what I have now had the honor of stating to
you.”
“Corruption, calumny, and false and treacherous impeachment!” said
Adrienne, with disgust: “I cannot think of such wretches without
involuntarily feeling my mind shocked by dismal ideas of black,
venomous, and vile reptiles, of aspects most hideous indeed. How much
more do I love to dwell upon the consoling thought of honest Dupont and
his wife!” Adrienne proceeded:
“Believe me, we hesitated not an instant. We quit Cardoville, which
has been our home for the last twenty years;--but we shall quit it like
honest people, and with the consciousness of our integrity. And now,
honored madame, if, in the brilliant circle in which you move--you,
who are so benevolent and amiable--could find a place for us by your
recommendation, then, with endless gratitude to you, we shall escape
from a position of most cruel embarrassment.”
“Surely, surely,” said Adrienne, “they shall not in vain appeal to me.
To wrest excellent persons from the grip of M. Rodin, is not only a
duty but a pleasure: for it is at once a righteous and a dangerous
enterprise; and dearly do I love to brave powerful oppressors!” Adrienne
again went on reading:
“After having thus spoken to you of ourselves, honored madame, permit
us to implore your protection for other unfortunates; for it would be
wicked to think only of one’s self. Three days ago, two shipwrecks took
place upon our ironbound coast. A few passengers only were saved, and
were conducted hither, where I and my wife gave them all necessary
attentions. All these passengers have departed for Paris, except one,
who still remains, his wounds having hitherto prevented him from leaving
the house, and, indeed, they will constrain him to remain for some days
to come. He is a young East Indian prince, of about twenty years of age,
and he appears to be as amiable and good as he is handsome, which is
not a little to say, though he has a tawny skin, like the rest of his
countrymen, as I understand.”
“An Indian prince! twenty years of age! young, amiable, and handsome!”
exclaimed Adrienne, gayly; “this is quite delightful, and not at all
of an ordinary or vulgar nature! Oh! this Indian prince has already
awakened all my sympathies! But what can I do with this Adonis from
the banks of the Ganges, who has come to wreck himself upon the Picardy
coast?”
Adrienne’s three women looked at her with much astonishment, though they
were accustomed to the singular eccentricities of her character.
Georgette and Hebe even indulged in discreet and restrained smiles.
Florine, the tall and beautiful pale brown girl, also smiled like her
pretty companions; but it was after a short pause of seeming reflection,
as if she had previously been entirely engrossed in listening to and
recollecting the minutest words of her mistress, who, though powerfully
interested by the situation of the “Adonis from Ganges banks,” as she
had called him, continued to read Dupont’s letter:
“One of the countrymen of the Indian prince, who has also remained to
attend upon him, has given me to understand that the youthful prince
has lost in the shipwreck all he possessed, and knows not how to get to
Paris, where his speedy presence is required by some affairs of the
very greatest importance. It is not from the prince himself that I have
obtained this information: no; he appears to be too dignified and
proud to proclaim of his fate: but his countryman, more communicative,
confidentially told me what I have stated, adding, that his young
compatriot has already been subjected to great calamities, and that his
father, who was the sovereign of an Indian kingdom, has been killed by
the English, who have also dispossessed his son of his crown.”
“This is very singular,” said Adrienne, thoughtfully. “These
circumstances recall to my mind that my father often mentioned that one
of our relations was espoused in India by a native monarch; and that
General Simon: (whom they have created a marshal) had entered into his
service.” Then interrupting herself to indulge in a smile, she added,
“Gracious! this affair will be quite odd and fantastical! Such things
happen to nobody but me; and then people say that I am the uncommon
creature! But it seems to me that it is not I, but Providence, which, in
truth, sometimes shows itself very eccentric! But let us see if worthy
Dupont gives the name of this handsome prince?”
“We trust, honored madame, that you will pardon our boldness: but we
should have thought ourselves very selfish, if, while stating to you our
own griefs, we had not also informed you that there is with us a brave
and estimable prince involved in so much distress. In fine, lady, trust
to me; I am old; and I have had much experience of men; and it was
only necessary to see the nobleness of expression and the sweetness
of countenance of this young Indian, to enable me to judge that he is
worthy of the interest which I have taken the liberty to request in his
behalf. It would be sufficient to transmit to him a small sum of money
for the purchase of some European clothing; for he has lost all his
Indian vestments in the shipwreck.”
“Good heavens! European clothing!” exclaimed Adrienne, gayly. “Poor
young prince! Heaven preserve him from that; and me also! Chance has
sent hither from the heart of India, a mortal so far favored as never
to have worn the abominable European costume--those hideous habits, and
frightful hats, which render the men so ridiculous, so ugly, that in
truth there is not a single good quality to be discovered in them, nor
one spark of what can either captivate or attract! There comes to me at
last a handsome young prince from the East, where the men are clothed
in silk and cashmere. Most assuredly I’ll not miss this rare and
unique opportunity of exposing myself to a very serious and formidable
temptation! No, no! not a European dress for me, though poor Dupont
requests it! But the name--the name of this dear prince! Once more, what
a singular event is this! If it should turn out to be that cousin from
beyond the Ganges! During my childhood, I have heard so much in praise
of his royal father! Oh! I shall be quite ravished to give his son the
kind reception which he merits!” And then she read on:
“If, besides this small sum, honored madame, you are so kind as to
give him, and also his companion, the means of reaching Paris, you
will confer a very great service upon this poor young prince, who is at
present so unfortunate.
“To conclude, I know enough of your delicacy to be aware that it would
perhaps be agreeable to you to afford this succor to the prince without
being known as his benefactress; in which case, I beg that you will be
pleased to command me; and you may rely upon my discretion. If, on the
contrary, you wish to address it directly to himself, his name is, as it
has been written for me by his countrymen, Prince Djalma, son of Radja
sing, King of Mundi.”
“Djalma!” said Adrienne, quickly, and appearing to call up her
recollections, “Radja-sing! Yes--that is it! These are the very names
that my father so often repeated, while telling me that there was
nothing more chivalric or heroic in the world than the old king, our
relation by marriage; and the son has not derogated, it would seem, from
that character. Yes, Djalma, Radja-sing--once more, that is it--such
names are not so common,” she added, smiling, “that one should either
forget or confound them with others. This Djalma is my cousin! Brave
and good--young and charming! above all, he has never worn the
horrid European dress! And destitute of every resource! This is quite
ravishing! It is too much happiness at once! Quick, quick let us
improvise a pretty fairy tale, of which the handsome and beloved prince
shall be the hero! The poor bird of the golden and azure plumage has
wandered into our dismal climate; but he will find here, at least,
something to remind him of his native region of sunshine and perfumes!”
Then, addressing one of her women, she said: “Georgette, take paper and
write, my child!” The young girl went to the gilt, illuminated table,
which contained materials for writing; and, having seated herself, she
said to her mistress: “I await orders.”
Adrienne de Cardoville, whose charming countenance was radiant with the
gayety of happiness and joy, proceeded to dictate the following letter
to a meritorious old painter, who had long since taught her the arts of
drawing and designing; in which arts she excelled, as indeed she did in
all others:
“MY DEAR TITIAN, MY GOOD VERONESE, MY WORTHY RAPHAEL.
“You can render me a very great service,--and you will do it, I am
sure, with that perfect and obliging complaisance by which you are ever
distinguished.
“It is to go immediately and apply yourself to the skillful hand who
designed my last costumes of the fifteenth century. But the present
affair is to procure modern East Indian dresses for a young man--yes,
sir--for a young man,--and according to what I imagine of him, I fancy
that you can cause his measure to be taken from the Antinous, or rather,
from the Indian Bacchus; yes--that will be more likely.
“It is necessary that these vestments be at once of perfect propriety
and correctness, magnificently rich, and of the greatest elegance. You
will choose the most beautiful stuffs possible; and endeavor, above all
things, that they be, or resemble, tissues of Indian manufacture; and
you will add to them, for turbans and sashes, six splendid long cashmere
shawls, two of them white, two red, and two orange; as nothing suits
brown complexions better than those colors.
“This done (and I allow you at the utmost only two or three days), you
will depart post in my carriage for Cardoville Manor House, which
you know so well. The steward, the excellent Dupont, one of your old
friends, will there introduce you to a young Indian Prince, named
Djalma; and you will tell that most potent grave, and reverend signior,
of another quarter of the globe, that you have come on the part of an
unknown friend, who, taking upon himself the duty of a brother, sends
him what is necessary to preserve him from the odious fashions
of Europe. You will add, that his friend expects him with so much
impatience that he conjures him to come to Paris immediately. If he
objects that he is suffering, you will tell him that my carriage is an
excellent bed-closet; and you will cause the bedding, etc., which it
contains, to be fitted up, till he finds it quite commodious. Remember
to make very humble excuses for the unknown friend not sending to the
prince either rich palanquins, or even, modestly, a single elephant;
for alas! palanquins are only to be seen at the opera; and there are
no elephants but those in the menagerie,--though this must make us seem
strangely barbarous in his eyes.
“As soon as you shall have decided on your departure, perform the
journey as rapidly as possible, and bring here, into my house, in the
Rue de Babylone (what predestination! that I should dwell in the street
of BABYLON,--a name which must at least accord with the ear of an
Oriental),--you will bring hither, I say, this dear prince, who is so
happy as to have been born in a country of flowers, diamonds, and sun!
“Above all, you will have the kindness, my old and worthy friend, not
to be at all astonished at this new freak, and refrain from indulging in
extravagant conjectures. Seriously, the choice which I have made of you
in this affair,--of you, whom I esteem and most sincerely honor,--is
because it is sufficient to say to you that, at the bottom of all this,
there is something more than a seeming act of folly.”
In uttering these last words, the tone of Adrienne was as serious and
dignified as it had been previously comic and jocose. But she quickly
resumed, more gayly, dictating to Georgette.
“Adieu, my old friend. I am something like that commander of ancient
days, whose heroic nose and conquering chin you have so often made me
draw: I jest with the utmost freedom of spirit even in the moment
of battle: yes, for within an hour I shall give battle, a pitched
battle--to my dear pew-dwelling aunt. Fortunately, audacity and courage
never failed me, and I burn with impatience for the engagement with my
austere princess.
“A kiss, and a thousand heartfelt recollections to your excellent wife.
If I speak of her here, who is so justly respected, you will please to
understand, it is to make you quite at ease as to the consequences of
this running away with, for my sake, a charming young prince,--for it is
proper to finish well where I should have begun, by avowing to you that
he is charming indeed!
“Once more, adieu!”
Then, addressing Georgette, said she, “Have you done writing, chit?”
“Yes, madame.”
“Oh, add this postscript.”
“P.S.--I send you draft on sight on my banker for all expenses. Spare
nothing. You know I am quite a grand seigneur. I must use this masculine
expression, since your sex have exclusively appropriated to yourselves
(tyrants as you are) a term, so significant as it is of noble
generosity.”
“Now, Georgette,” said Adrienne; “bring me an envelope, and the letter,
that I may sign it.” Mademoiselle de Cardoville took the pen that
Georgette presented to her, signed the letter, and enclosed in it an
order upon her banker, which was expressed thus:
“Please pay M. Norval, on demand without grace, the sum of money he may
require for expenses incurred on my account.
“ADRIENNE DE CARDOVILLE.”
During all this scene, while Georgette wrote, Florine and Hebe had
continued to busy themselves with the duties of their mistress’s
toilette, who had put off her morning gown, and was now in full dress,
in order to wait upon the princess, her aunt. From the sustained and
immovably fixed attention with which Florine had listened to Adrienne’s
dictating to Georgette her letter to M. Norval, it might easily have
been seen that, as was her habit indeed, she endeavored to retain in her
memory even the slightest words of her mistress.
“Now, chit,” said Adrienne to Hebe, “send this letter immediately to M.
Norval.”
The same silver bell was again rung from without. Hebe moved towards the
door of the dressing-room, to go and inquire what it was, and also
to execute the order of her mistress as to the letter. But Florine
precipitated herself, so to speak, before her, and so as to prevent her
leaving the apartment; and said to Adrienne:
“Will it please my lady for me to send this letter? I have occasion to
go to the mansion.”
“Go, Florine, then,” said Adrienne, “seeing that you wish it. Georgette,
seal the letter.”
At the end of a second or two, during which Georgette had sealed the
letter, Hebe returned.
“Madame,” said she, re-entering, “the working-man who brought back
Frisky yesterday, entreats you to admit him for an instant. He is very
pale, and he appears quite sad.”
“Would that he may already have need of me! I should be too happy!” said
Adrienne gayly. “Show the excellent young man into the little saloon.
And, Florine, despatch this letter immediately.”
Florine went out. Miss de Cardoville, followed by Frisky, entered the
little reception-room, where Agricola awaited her.