THE RUE DE CHAILLOT.
We will precede M. Badinot by some hours, as in haste he proceeded from
the Passage de la Brasserie to the Vicomte de Saint-Remy. The latter, as
we have said, lived in the Rue de Chaillot, and occupied a delightful
small house, built between the court and the garden in this quarter, so
solitary, although so close to the Champs Elysees, the most fashionable
promenade in Paris.
It is useless to enumerate the advantages which M. de Saint-Remy, who
was decidedly a man _a bonnes fortunes_, derived from the position of a
residence so sagaciously selected. We will only say that a gentleman (or
a lady) could enter very privately by a small door in the large garden
which opened into a back lane absolutely deserted, communicating from
the Rue Marboeuf to the Rue de Chaillot. By wonderful chance, one of the
finest nursery-grounds in Paris having also in this quiet passage a way
out that was little frequented, the mysterious visitors of M. de
Saint-Remy, in case of a surprise or sudden rencounter, were armed with
a most plausible and bucolical excuse for their visit to the lonely
alley: they were there (they might say if they pleased) to choose some
rare flowers from the celebrated gardener who was so renowned for the
beauty of his conservatories. The visitors need only thus tell half
falsehoods; for the vicomte, plentifully imbued with all the tastes of
most costly luxuries, had a delightful greenhouse, which extended along
the side of the alley we have alluded to. The small private door opened
on this delightful winter garden, which terminated in a boudoir (forgive
the superannuated expression), which was on the ground floor of the
house.
We may say, therefore, without metaphor, that a female who passed this
dangerous threshold, to enter M. de Saint-Remy's house, ran to her ruin
through a flowery path; for, in the winter particularly, this lonely
alley was bordered with real bushes of bright and perfumed flowers.
Madame de Lucenay, jealous as a woman deeply in love always is, had
demanded the key of this small door.
If we dwell somewhat on the general aspect of this dwelling, it is that
it reflected (if we may be allowed the expression) one of those
degrading existences which from day to day become happily more rare, but
which it may be as well to note down as one of the peculiarities of the
epoch.
The interior of M. de Saint-Remy's house presented (viewed in this
light) a curious appearance, or rather the house was separated into two
distinct zones,--the ground floor, where he received his female
visitors; the first story, where he received his gambling companions or
his dinner or hunting associates; in a word, what he called his friends.
Thus on the ground floor was a bedchamber, which was nothing but gold,
mirrors, flowers, satin, and lace; then a small music-room, in which was
a harp and piano (M. de Saint-Remy was an excellent musician); a cabinet
of pictures; and then the boudoir, which communicated with the
conservatory; a dining-room for two persons, who were served and passed
away the dishes and plates by a turning window; a bath-room, a model of
luxury and Oriental refinement; and, close at hand, a small library, a
portion of which was arranged after the catalogue of that which La
Mettrie had collected for Frederic the Great. Such was this apartment.
It would be unavailing to say that all these rooms, furnished with
exquisite taste, and with a Sardanapalian luxury, had as ornaments
Watteaus little known; Bouchers never engraved; wanton subjects,
formerly purchased at enormous prices. There were, besides, groups
modelled in terra-cotta, by Clodien, and here and there, on plinths of
jasper or antique breccia, some rare copies, in white marble, of the
most jovial and lovely bacchanals of the Secret Museum of Naples.
Add to this, in summer there were in perspective the green recesses of a
well-planted garden, lonely, replete with flowers and birds, watered by
a small and sparkling fountain, which, before it spread itself on the
verdant turf, fell from a black and shaggy rock, scintillated like a
strip of silver gauze, and dashed into a clear basin like
mother-of-pearl, where beautiful white swans wantoned with grace and
freedom.
Then, when the mild and serene night came on, what shade, what perfume,
what silence, was there in those odorous clumps, whose thick foliage
served as a dais for the rustic seats formed of reeds and Indian mats.
During the winter, on the contrary, except the glass door which opened
to the hothouse, all was kept close shut. The transparent silk of the
blinds, the net lace of the curtains, made the daylight still more
mysterious. On all the pieces of furniture large tufts of exotic plants
seemed to put forth their large flowers, resplendent with gold and
enamel.
In order to do the honours of this temple, which seemed raised to
antique Love, or the denuded divinities of Greece, behold a man, young,
handsome, elegant, and distinguished,--by turns witty and tender,
romantic or libertine; now jesting and gay to folly, now full of charm
and grace; an excellent musician, gifted with one of those impassioned,
vibrating voices which women cannot hear without experiencing a deep
impression, almost physical,--in fact, a man essentially made for
love,--such was the vicomte. In Athens, no doubt, he would have been
admired, exalted, deified, as was Alcibiades; in our days, and at the
period of which we write, the vicomte was nothing more than a base
forger, a contemptible swindler.
The first story of M. de Saint-Remy's house was exceedingly masculine in
its whole appearance. It was there he received his many friends, all of
whom were of the very highest society. There was nothing effeminate,
nothing coquettish. The furniture was plain, but elegant, the ornaments
being first-rate weapons of all sorts, pictures of race-horses, who had
won for the vicomte a great number of magnificent gold and silver vases,
which were placed on the tables and sideboards.
The smoking-room and play-room were closed by a cheerful dining-room,
where eight persons (the number to which the guests were rigidly
confined when there was a first-class dinner) had often appreciated the
excellence of the cook, and the no less high merit of the wine of the
vicomte, before they faced him at some high game of whist for five or
six hundred louis, or shook the noisy dice-box at infernal hazard or
roulette.
These two widely opposite shades of M. de Saint-Remy disclosed, the
reader will follow us into the regions below, to the very comfortable
apartment of Edwards Patterson, the master of the horse of M. de
Saint-Remy, who had invited M. Boyer to breakfast. A very pretty English
maid-servant having withdrawn after she had brought in the silver
teapot, these two worthies remained alone.
Edwards was about forty years of age, and never did more skilful or
stouter coachman make a seat groan under his most imposing rotundity;
never did powdered wig enclose a more rubicund visage; and never did a
more knowing and competent driver hold in his four fingers and thumb the
reins of a four-in-hand. As good a judge of a horse as Tattersal (and in
his youth he had been as good a trainer as the old and celebrated
Chiffney), Edwards had been to the vicomte a most excellent coachman,
and a man perfectly capable of superintending the training of
race-horses on which he had betted heavily.
When he did not assume his sumptuous brown and silver livery on the
emblazoned hammercloth of his box, Edwards very much resembled an honest
English farmer; and it is under this aspect that we shall present him to
the reader, adding, at the same time, that beneath this round and red
visage there lurked all the pitiless and devilish cunning of the
horse-dealer.
M. Boyer, his guest, the confidential servant of the vicomte, was a
tall, thin man, with gray, smooth hair, bald forehead, cunning glance,
with a countenance calm, discreet, and reserved. He expressed himself in
somewhat choice phraseology, with polite, easy manners; he was tolerably
well informed, his political opinions being legitimist, and he could
take his part as first violin in an amateur quartette. From time to
time, and with the best air in the world, he took a pinch of snuff from
a gold snuff-box, set around with fine pearls, after which he
negligently shook with the back of his hand (as white and carefully
attended to as his master's) the particles of snuff from the frill of
his fine Holland shirt.
"Do you know, my dear Edwards," said Boyer, "that your maid, Betty,
really does your meals in a very fair manner! _Ma foi!_ now and then one
gets tired of high living."
"The fact is that Betty is a very good girl," said Edwards, who spoke
very good French. "I shall take her with me into my establishment, if I
make up my mind to set up in housekeeping; and on this point, since we
are alone, my dear Boyer, let us talk of business matters which you know
as well as I do."
"Why, yes, tolerably," said Boyer, modestly taking a pinch of snuff,
"one learns them so naturally, when they are the affairs of others that
occupy us."
"I want your advice on a very important point, and that's the reason I
have begged you to come and take a cup of tea with me."
"I'm at your service, my dear Edwards."
"You know that, besides the race-horses, I had an agreement with M. le
Vicomte to the complete providing of his stable, horses, and men, that
is to say, eight horses and five or six grooms and boys, for twenty-four
thousand francs (nine thousand guineas) a year, including my wages."
"That was moderate enough."
"For four years M. le Vicomte paid me very regularly; but about the
middle of last year he said to me, 'Edwards, I owe you about twenty-four
thousand francs. What value, at the lowest, do you set on my horses and
carriages?' 'Monsieur le Vicomte, the eight horses ought to fetch three
thousand francs (120_l._) each, one with another, and that would make
(and it's true, Boyer, for the pair of phaeton horses cost five hundred
guineas) exactly twenty-four thousand francs for the horses. As to the
carriages, there are four, let us say, for twelve thousand francs; that,
added to the twenty-four thousand francs for the horses, makes
thirty-six thousand francs.' 'Well,' replied the vicomte, 'buy the whole
of me at that price, on condition that for the twelve thousand francs
which you will owe me, paid as it were in advance, you shall keep and
place at my disposal horses, servants, and carriages for six months.'"
"And you very wisely acceded to the proposal, Edwards? It was a golden
gain to you."
"No doubt. In another fortnight the six months will have expired, and I
become proprietor of the horses and carriages."
"Nothing plainer. The agreement was drawn up by M. Badinot, the
vicomte's man of business, what do you want with my advice?"
"What should I do? To sell the horses and carriages in consequence of M.
le Vicomte's departure? All would sell well, as he is known as one of
the first judges in Paris; or ought I to set up as a horse-dealer with
my stud, which would make a capital beginning? What is your
opinion--your advice?"
"I advise you to do what I shall do myself."
"In what way?"
"I am in the same position as yourself."
"You?"
"M. le Vicomte detests details. When I entered in his service I had, by
savings and inheritance, sixty thousand francs (2,400_l._). I paid the
expenses of the house as you did of the stables; and every year M. le
Vicomte paid me without examining my account. At nearly the same time as
yourself I found myself out of pocket about twenty thousand francs on my
own account, and, to the tradespeople, sixty thousand francs. Then M. le
Vicomte made me the same proposition as to yourself, in order to
reimburse me. I was to sell the furniture of the house, including the
plate, which is very handsome, very fine paintings, etc., the whole
estimated at a hundred and forty thousand francs (5,600_l._). There were
eighty thousand francs to pay, and there remained sixty thousand francs
which I was to disburse until they were quite exhausted, in the expenses
of the table, the servants' wages, etc., and in nothing else. These were
the terms of the agreement."
"Because on that outlay you have a profit."
"As a matter of course; for I made all the agreements with the
tradespeople, whom I shall not pay until after the sale," said Boyer,
taking a huge pinch of snuff; "so that at the end of this month--"
"The furniture is yours, as the horses and carriages are mine."
"Precisely so. M. le Vicomte has gained by this, by living for the last
few months as he likes to live, _en grand seigneur_,--and that in the
very teeth of his creditors; for furniture, plate, horses, carriages,
which had all been paid for ready money when he came of age, have now
become the property of yourself and myself."
"And so M. le Vicomte is really ruined?"
"In five years."
"And M. le Vicomte inherited--"
"Only a miserable million (40,000_l._), ready money," said M. Boyer,
with a disdainful air, and taking a pinch of snuff. "Add to this two
hundred thousand francs of debts (8,000_l._), about--that's pretty well!
It was, therefore, to tell you, my dear Edwards, that I had an intention
of letting this house, so admirably furnished as it is, to some English
family, linen, glass, china, silver, conservatory. Some of your
country-people would pay a good rent for it?"
"Unquestionably. Why don't you do so?"
"Why, there's considerable risk, and so I make up my mind to sell the
whole at once. M. le Vicomte is also known as a connoisseur in
first-class furniture and objects of art, so that anything that he has
selected will always fetch double its value, and I am safe to realise a
large sum. Do as I do, Edwards, and realise--realise. Don't risk your
profits in speculation. You, first coachman of M. le Vicomte de
Saint-Remy,--why, there'll be a competition for you. And yesterday I
just heard of a minor who has recently been emancipated, a cousin of
Madame la Duchesse de Lucenay, the young Duc de Montbrison, who has just
arrived from Italy with his tutor, and is forming his establishment. Two
hundred and fifty thousand livres of income (10,000_l._) from land, my
dear Edwards, two hundred and fifty thousand livres a year,--just
entering into life,--twenty years of age only,--with all the illusions
of simple confidence, and all the desires of expenditure,--prodigal as a
prince. I know the steward; and I tell you, in confidence, he has all
but concluded with me as first _valet de chambre_. He patronises
me,--the fool!" And M. Boyer shrugged his shoulders, whilst he inhaled
another large pinch of snuff.
"You hope to get rid of him?"
"_Parbleu_, he is a jackanapes,--an ass! He places me there as if he
ought not to have any fears of me. Before two months I shall be in his
place."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand livres a year in land!" replied Edwards,
reflecting; "and a young man! It is a good house?"
"I tell you there is everything to make a man comfortable. I will speak
to my protector for you," said M. Boyer, with irony. "Take the place; it
is a fortune which has roots to it, and one may hold on by it for a long
time. It is not like the unfortunate million of M. le Vicomte, a
snowball, and nothing else,--a ray of a Parisian sun, and that's all. I
soon saw that I should only be a bird of passage here. It's a pity, for
the establishment did us credit; and, to the last moment, I will serve
M. le Vicomte with the respect and esteem due to him."
"_Ma foi_, my dear Boyer, I thank you, and accept your proposition. And,
now I think of it, suppose I were to propose the stud of M. le Vicomte
to this young duke! It is all ready, and known and admired all over
Paris."
"True, you may make a profitable affair of it."
"And you, why don't you propose to him this house so admirably fitted up
in every way? What could he find better?"
"Bravo! Edwards, you are a man of sense decidedly; you have suggested a
most excellent idea. We must ask the vicomte; he is such a good master
that he will not refuse to speak for us to the young duke. He may say
that, as he is going on the legation of Gerolstein, to which he is
attached, he wishes to get rid of his whole establishment. Let us see.
One hundred and sixty thousand francs for the house furnished, twenty
thousand francs for plate and pictures, fifty thousand francs for
stable and carriages, that makes two hundred and thirty thousand francs;
and it is a bargain for a young man who wishes to be set up at once in
the first style."
"And the horses!"
"And the capital table! Gallefroi, his cook, will leave a hundred times
better off than when he came here first. M. le Vicomte has given him
capital instruction,--has regularly refined him!"
"They say, too, that M. le Vicomte is such a capital player?"
"Admirable! Gaining large sums with even more indifference than he loses
them! And yet I never saw any one lose with better taste!"
"And the women, Boyer,--the women! Ah, you could tell a tale! You have
the sole _entree_ to the apartments of the ground floor--"
"I have my secrets as you have yours, my dear fellow."
"Mine?"
"When M. le Vicomte ran his horses, had you not your confidences? I will
not attack the honesty of the jockeys of your opponents; but there were
reports--"
"Hush, my dear Boyer, a gentleman never compromises the reputation of a
jockey who is against him, and has the weakness to listen--"
"Then a gallant never compromises the reputation of a woman who has been
kind to him. So, I say, let's keep our secrets, or, rather, the secrets
of M. le Vicomte, my dear Edwards."
"Ah, good! What will he do now?"
"He is going to Germany in a good travelling carriage, with seven or
eight thousand francs, which he knows when to lay his hand upon. Oh, I
have no fears for the vicomte! He is one of those personages who always
fall on their feet, as they say."
"And he has no future expectancies?"
"None; for his father has nothing but just enough to live upon."
"His father?"
"Certainly."
"M. le Vicomte's father is not dead?"
"He was not dead five or six months ago when M. le Vicomte wrote to him
for some family papers."
"But we never see him here?"
"For reasons good. For fifteen years he has resided in the country at
Angers."
"But M. le Vicomte never visits him?"
"His father?"
"Yes."
"Never--never!"
"Have they quarrelled, then?"
"What I am going to tell you is no secret, for I have it from the old
man of business of M. the Prince de Noirmont."
"Father of Madame de Lucenay?" said Edwards, with a knowing glance at
Boyer, who, appearing not to understand him, replied coolly:
"Madame la Duchesse de Lucenay is the daughter of M. the Prince de
Noirmont. The father of M. le Vicomte was bosom friend of the prince.
Madame la Duchesse was then very young, and M. de Saint-Remy, senior,
who was very fond of her, treated her as if she were his own child. I
learnt these details from Simon, the prince's man of business; and I may
speak unhesitatingly, for the adventure I am about to narrate to you
was, at the time, the talk of all Paris. In spite of his sixty years,
the father of M. le Vicomte is a man of iron disposition, with the
courage of a lion, of probity which I call almost fabulous. He had
scarcely any property of his own, and had married the vicomte's mother
for love. She was a young person of good fortune, possessing about a
million of francs, at the melting of which we have had the honour to be
present." And M. Boyer bowed. Edwards imitated him.
"The marriage was a very happy one, until the moment when the father of
M. le Vicomte found--accidentally, as they say--some letters, which
proved that, during one of his absences three or four years after his
marriage, his wife had had an attachment for a certain Polish count."
"That often happens to these Poles. When I was at the Marquis de
Senneval's, the marquise, a regular she-devil--"
"My dear Edwards," interrupted M. Boyer, "you should learn the alliances
of our great families before you speak, or you will sadly blunder."
"How?"
"Madame la Marquise de Senneval is sister of M. le Duc de Montbrison,
into whose establishment you wish to enter."
"Ah, the devil!"
"Judge of the effect if you had spoken thus of her before tattling
people! You would not have remained in the house twenty-four hours."
"True, Boyer; I must endeavour to 'get up' my peerage."
"I resume. The father of M. le Vicomte discovered, after twelve or
fifteen years of a marriage very happy until then, that he had this
Polish count to complain of. Fortunately, or unfortunately, M. le
Vicomte was born nine months after his father, or rather M. le Comte de
Saint-Remy, had returned from this unpropitious journey, so that he
could not be certain, in spite of the greatest probabilities, whether or
not M. le Vicomte could fairly charge him with paternity. However, the
comte separated instantly from his wife, would not touch a stiver of the
fortune she had brought him, and returned into the country with about
eighty thousand francs which he possessed of his own. But you have yet
to learn the rancour of this diabolical character. Although the outrage
had been perpetrated fifteen years when he detected it, the father of M.
le Vicomte, accompanied by M. de Fermont, one of his relatives, sought
out this Polonese seducer, and found him at Venice, after having sought
for him during eighteen months in every city in Europe."
"What determination!"
"A demon's rancour, I say, my dear Edwards! At Venice there was a
ferocious duel, in which the Pole was killed. All passed off honourably;
but they tell me that, when the father of M. le Vicomte saw the Pole
fall at his feet mortally wounded, he exhibited such ferocious joy that
his relative, M. de Fermont, was obliged to take him away from the place
of combat; the comte wishing, as he declared, to see his enemy die
before his eyes."
"What a man! What a man!"
"The comte returned to Paris, saw his wife, told her he had killed the
Pole, and went back into the country. Since that time he never saw her
or her son, and resided at Angers, where he lived, as they say, like a
regular old wolf, with what was left of his eighty thousand francs,
which had been sweated down not a little, as you may suppose, by his
chase after the Pole. At Angers he saw no one, unless it were the wife
and daughter of his relative, M. de Fermont, who has been dead some
years now. Besides, it was an unfortunate family, for the brother of
Madame de Fermont blew his brains out some months ago."
"And the mother of M. le Vicomte?"
"He lost her a long time ago; that's the reason that, when he attained
his majority, M. le Vicomte came into his mother's fortune. So, you see,
my dear Edwards, that, as to inheritance, the vicomte has nothing, or
almost less than nothing, to expect from his father."
"Who, moreover, detests him."
[Illustration: _He exhibited such ferocious joy._
Original Etching by Mercier.]
"He never would see him after the discovery in question, being fully
persuaded, no doubt, that he is the son of the Pole."
The conversation of these two personages was interrupted by a gigantic
footman, elaborately powdered, although it was scarcely eleven o'clock.
"M. Boyer, M. le Vicomte has rung his bell twice," said the giant.
Boyer appeared immensely distressed at having apparently been
inattentive to his duty, rose hastily, and followed the footman with as
much haste and respect as if he had not been himself, in his proper
person, the proprietor of his master's house.