procured it for me; it is very neat, and it will be better than to go
such a short distance in a post-chaise."
"Where did you find a horse?"
"Monsieur Férulus has lent me one belonging to the father of one of his
pupils."
"That is to say, the father of the pupil lends it to you."
"I mean to buy some horses at once. Come, messieurs, let us breakfast at
once, and start for Saint-Amand. I have notified the notary of my visit,
and I am sure that the whole town expects us."
Breakfast over, they got into the carriole, which jolted them somewhat;
but the horse was strong and it was not long before they espied the
ruins of the fortifications that surrounded Saint-Amand; soon after,
they entered the town, but to Robineau’s astonishment the inhabitants
were not standing at their doorways.
While the new landed proprietor betook himself to the notary’s, Alfred
and Edouard strolled about the town, of which they soon made the
circuit. Robineau joined them on the public square; his face was radiant
with joy. The notary had told him that people were talking a great deal
about him in the neighborhood, and had invited him to dine on the
following day because he wished to introduce him to the most notable
people of the town. Lastly, he had his pockets full of letters of
introduction, and as he had already told the notary that it was his
intention to marry, the notary had promised him three balls and four
large receptions for the following week.
"I did not forget you, my friends," said Robineau in conclusion.
"Do you propose to find wives for us, too?" said Alfred.
"That isn’t what I mean. Although if you wish it--it seems that in the
provinces there is a good deal of marrying; but I said that I had
brought two young men with me from Paris, one very wealthy, and the
other very bright."
"Which means that the one who is rich is a stupid fool, I suppose?"
"No, not that! But I was asked if you were bachelors, too, and upon my
replying in the affirmative, I was strongly urged to bring you to dinner
with me, and----"
"You are very kind, Monsieur Jules; but we have no desire to play a
scene or two from _La Petite Ville_; you will have to dine without us."
"As you please, messieurs. But there is nothing further to keep us here;
let us return to my château. I must go back and hurry up my workmen. I
have already told the notary that before long I would give a large
party, dinner, ball, fire-works and Bengal fire, like the Tivoli at
Paris. I must go back and have the beets pulled up."
They entered the carriage once more and drove back to the château.
Robineau was in raptures; he dreamed of nothing but balls, parties,
weddings; he imagined all the women in the town disputing for his
favors, and all the unmarried girls making soft eyes at him. While he
imagined all this, he did not notice that his two companions were not
listening to him, but that, absorbed by their own reflections, Alfred
and Edouard were thinking of something very different from the parties
he proposed to give, at which he had no idea of dancing and drinking
with the peasants of the neighborhood.
They were near the château, when Robineau uttered an exclamation which
roused his companions from their reflections.
"That man again! always that man! He is my _bête noire_! I don’t know
why, but I would rather see a wolf than that tall vagabond!"
The young men looked up and saw the poverty-stricken traveller seated on
the ground a short distance from the château, at which he seemed to be
gazing as attentively as on the day before.
"Ah, it is the man with the knotted stick!" said Alfred, with a smile.
"It is that poor devil who was at Clermont," said Edouard.
"Yes, it is that fine fellow who is so ugly to look at. For heaven’s
sake, see how he stares at my château! He does it ostentatiously; one
would say that he wanted to pick a quarrel with the workmen he sees
there. I will have the rascal driven away from my moat."
"I do not believe that your lordship has that right, Monsieur de la
Roche-Noire. Monsieur Férulus would tell you that that man is _extra
muros_ and consequently cannot be disturbed."
"But why does he look at my property like that? I don’t like it."
"Ask him."
"What! Speak to that vagabond! Compromise myself by addressing him!
Certainly not. However, I should be glad to know what he is doing here."
"Very well," said Edouard, "as I am not afraid of compromising myself, I
propose to try to talk a little with the man. I have an idea that he is
an unfortunate fellow looking for work. Couldn’t you give him something
to do in your château, as you are just setting up housekeeping?"
"Take that man into my house! No, indeed! I should be afraid that he
would rob me."
"Oh! do you think it is always safe to judge by appearances, monsieur?
and because this poor fellow’s coat is shabbier than those of the
peasants hereabout, is it necessary to refuse him a chance to earn his
living? That’s the way the unfortunate are forced into crime."
"After all, what you say is reasonable. Well! go to him and ask him what
he can do. I might employ him to pull up beets, or to groom the horses
which I propose to buy; we will see. But first of all find out what he
is; I am determined to have only respectable people in my service."
The carriage drove into the courtyard. Monsieur Férulus, who had already
arrived for dinner, joined the young men. Edouard, while the rest went
into the château, went out again and walked toward the place where they
had seen the man from Clermont-Ferrand.
The stranger was still seated a short distance from the North Tower, to
which his glances seemed more attracted than to the other parts of the
château; his staff was between his legs, and his head rested on one of
his hands.
Edouard approached the stranger, but he did not look up at him, and
remained in the same position. Edouard saw that he must begin the
conversation, and, taking his stand almost in front of the stranger he
said to him in an indifferent tone:
"You seem to be examining this venerable château with much interest,
monsieur?"
The stranger raised his eyes, glanced angrily at Edouard for a moment,
then answered abruptly:
"Am I not at liberty to look where I please?"
"No one denies you that right. I simply thought that perhaps the sight
of this château recalled bygone memories to you; that you may have known
someone here formerly."
The stranger cast a piercing glance at the young man, and a bitter smile
played about his lips, but he made no reply.
After a moment’s silence, Edouard continued:
"This is a charming country; I am delighted that I came here; it
presents a most picturesque blending of wild and cheerful scenery.--Do
you belong hereabout, monsieur?"
The stranger gazed earnestly at Edouard, and replied:
"If I should ask you where you came from, what you have been doing, and
what you have come here for, would you consider it any of my business,
and would you answer?"
"Perhaps so, monsieur; moreover, I may have reasons for questioning you
which you would not have for questioning me."
"That is to say, that because I am poorly clad, because I look like an
unfortunate devil, you, who are well dressed, and have money in your
pocket, no doubt, think that you are vastly superior to me, and that
that gives you the right to question me."
"You are mistaken, monsieur; and although your exterior may have led me
to think that you are not wealthy, that thought has made me desirous to
do something for you, to be useful to you, and that is what led me to
ask you these questions."
The stranger looked at Edouard for some seconds, then shook his head,
saying:
"You must be very different from other men then!"
"I came here with the person who has bought this château, and whom you
may have seen with us."
The stranger indulged in a mocking smile, as he muttered:
"Yes, yes, I have seen him! and it seems that he has already begun to
upset everything in the château."
"This property needs repairs; he proposes to make more modern the part
of the building that he occupies. He also proposes to set up a
household; he has not enough servants, and there are various positions
to be filled. As you seem to look at the house with interest, I thought
that perhaps it would be agreeable to you----"
"And you have come to offer me a chance to be the new owner’s footman!"
exclaimed the stranger, with a frown.
Amazed at the expression which the other’s face assumed, Edouard replied
hesitatingly:
"Footman--or something else; I know of no occupation that is degrading
to him who fills it uprightly."
The stranger seemed to reflect for some moments, then exclaimed
sarcastically:
"Upon my word, that would be very amusing! It would, indeed! I know that
Jacob was a servant to Laban, that Apollo was a farmhand, that David
kept flocks, that Cincinnatus drove the plough, and that the Prodigal
Son was reduced to herding swine! After all, what does one’s employment
matter, provided that one is happy? Is a man in an embroidered coat more
worthy of esteem than one in a jacket and clogs? No. But he who is
richly clad is able to procure all the pleasures of life, to satisfy his
desires and his passions--that is the advantage that he has over the
other. The form changes, but the substance is always the same. To prove
it, just give money, wealth, to some poor wretch whose simple life and
pure morals have been extolled to you, and he will very soon plunge into
folly like the others. I know but one class of really wise people, and
they are those who do not allow themselves to be tricked!"
Edouard listened to the stranger with no less surprise than interest.
His speech proved that he, Edouard, was not in error in thinking that
that man had not always been in such wretched plight. Apparently
regardless of the person who stood beside him, the stranger took from
his pocket a pipe and a flint, and as he struck the flint to obtain a
light, continued his reflections:
"What a curious thing life is! When one is rich, happy, highly esteemed,
one exposes it recklessly and plays with danger; one makes it a point of
honor to defy perils. To be sure, we generally do it solely from
self-esteem; then comes adversity, poverty, old age, and then we
generally begin to tremble for our lives. We act like fools! For my own
part, I have taken the wise course: I worry about nothing; I hold myself
superior to everything. I still have a few coins in my pocket, and when
they are gone, we will see. It won’t be the first time that I have found
myself in an embarrassing position, and there is something piquant in
the reflections to which such a condition gives rise. Moreover, the
Auvergnats are good fellows; they will always give me a crust of bread,
and with that I can walk where I please from morning till night. That is
something. Ah! If we were at Athens or Sparta, people might find
something to criticise in my mode of life, I know. By Solon’s law it was
justifiable to denounce every citizen who had no occupation. But other
times, other manners!"
The stranger, having lighted his pipe, put it in his mouth, and turned
toward Edouard with a mocking laugh; then blew a puff of smoke into his
face.
"Monsieur," said Edouard, "it is easy to see from your speech that you
have had an education, that you were not born in the lower ranks of
society. Misfortunes, which I do not ask to know, must have brought
adversity upon you. You seem to hold a low opinion of your fellowmen,
undoubtedly because you have reasons to complain of them; but misfortune
embitters us and sometimes makes us unjust; so far as I am concerned, I
sincerely desire to be of use to you, and to extricate you from a
situation which I see you ought not to occupy."
"Which I ought not to occupy! Why, you see that I ought, since I am in
it! But have I asked you for anything? Who told you that I am not
contented as I am?"
"A man may become hardened to misfortune, to poverty; but whatever
strength of mind he may have, it is impossible to banish entirely from
his thoughts the memory of a happier time."
The stranger stretched himself out carelessly on the turf and looked at
Edouard.
"Ah! you believe that, do you? How do you know that I do not deserve the
misfortune of which you suppose me to be the victim; that it is not my
misbehavior, my passions, which have put me where I am?"
"If that were so, I should see in it simply an additional motive for
trying to oblige you. A man must be much more unhappy when his
unhappiness is due to his own fault."
"Do you think that I follow the creed of Zoroaster, that I regale myself
by reading the _Sadder_, which demands that a man should make a rigid
examination of his conscience at the end of every day? No, indeed; for a
long time my conscience and myself have been the best friends in the
world, and for a very good reason, namely, that we never speak to each
other.--Have you any snuff about you?"
"No, I never use it."
"That is a pity; it is deuced hard to find any about here! Never
mind,--I will do without it; a man becomes accustomed to everything!
Formerly I would never believe that one could sleep as well in the open
air as in a bed; now I enjoy it immensely. I confess, however, that the
bread of these mountaineers is a little heavy; it cannot come up to a
truffled turkey or a roasted pheasant; but one must needs be sober when
one cannot be otherwise."
"Why do you refuse me then when I offer you the means to be more
comfortable? A servant’s place would humiliate you; but we might be able
to find some place for you which would not be exactly that, some
occupation in which there would be nothing distressing to you."
"No, no, it isn’t the name of servant that offends me; I tell you again,
I look upon all men with the same eye! But to be a servant in this
château--that is impossible!"
"Why so?"
"It is impossible, I tell you!" As he said this the stranger sprang to
his feet; then he continued with a smile: "You must agree that the new
owner has every appearance of an egregious idiot!"
Edouard smiled too, as he replied:
"He is a very good fellow at bottom."
"Oh, yes! A good fellow! I have known a deuced lot of men who seem to be
that! They borrowed my money and never returned it. However, I did the
same myself, later; it is natural; but it is much more difficult to live
with fools than with intelligent people. Wealth makes the former even
more absurd than ever, because it gives them assurance,
self-sufficiency, which they parade on all occasions, and with which
they drive one mad!--Ah! I feel by my stomach that dinner time has come;
the stomach acts as a watch, you see; good-night, monsieur."
"May I not at least know your name? If any opportunity to oblige you
should present itself, which were more agreeable to you than the idea of
taking service at the château, I should like to be able to find you."
"To find me! That is not a very easy matter. I am everywhere and
nowhere, like the _free judges_ of old times. However, I think that I
have chosen my place of abode in these mountains for some time. As for
my name, I have no desire to tell you the name which really belongs to
me; but I will tell you what the Auvergnats call me, who meet me on the
roads and who are beginning to know me; they call me the tall vagabond.
That is not such a sonorous name as Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, but
after all it is as good a name as another. Good-night."
With that, the stranger walked away whistling, and Edouard returned to
the château, thinking of the strange individual with whom he had been
talking. They were awaiting Edouard to adjourn to the table. Monsieur
Férulus was in despair, for fear that the soup would be cold; but
Robineau was very curious to know who the man was with the knotted
stick, and as soon as he espied Edouard, he cried: "Well! did you talk
with him?"
"Yes, we had quite a long conversation."
"You must tell us about it."
"Cannot monsieur tell us about it at the table?" said Monsieur Férulus.
They took their seats at the table, and Edouard told the result of his
conversation with the stranger.
"So he won’t enter my service?" said Robineau.
"No, he refuses."
"I am not at all sorry."
"It must be that that fellow is a little cracked," said Monsieur
Férulus, "to prefer the bread of the mountaineers to Monsieur de la
Roche-Noire’s _cuisine_."
"I don’t agree with you," said Edouard. "That man has had a good
education, and has held high rank in society; he can’t make up his mind
to wait upon other men, and that seems to me natural enough."
"What makes you think that that vagabond has been received in good
society?" said Robineau. "I have discovered nothing distinguished in his
appearance."
"If you had heard him talk, you would be certain that he has not always
worn such shabby clothes."
"My dear friend," said Alfred, "you are a little inclined to be
romantic. Everything that seems in the least degree strange or
extraordinary, attracts you, and you are very glad to transform this
vagabond into one of those mysterious characters whom we find only in
novels."
"Messieurs," said Monsieur Férulus, filling everybody’s glass, "Monsieur
Edouard is a man of letters; he may have been--I will say more, he must
have been flattered to hear a few scholastic words come from the mouth
of so vulgar a person. But what does that prove? That he has received an
education? I am not of that opinion. Are we not told that in ancient
times animals spoke?"
"Such things are seen in our day, too," said Alfred.
"Ah, yes! you mean parrots. They have had education; but Livy reports
that an ox cried in the marketplace: ‘Rome, beware!’ Pliny says that a
dog spoke when Tarquin was expelled from the throne; and if we are to
believe Suetonius, a crow cried in the Capitol when Domitian was about
to be assassinated: ‘That is well done!’ One of the horses of Achilles,
named Xanthus, predicted to his master that he would die before Troy.
Lastly, Phryxus’s ram spoke, as did the cows on Mount Olympus; and yet,
messieurs, none of these beasts had ever received any education. Surely
a man may do as much. My conclusion is that this vagabond has been in
the service of some scholar, and that something of what he heard has
stuck in his memory; for we masters of arts are like the sun, whose
beams penetrate palace and garret alike.--Mademoiselle Cheval’s salmis
is excellent.--I have the honor to drink to the health of Monsieur de la
Roche-Noire."
Alfred and Edouard had ceased to take part in the conversation; they
were both absorbed by their thoughts. But Monsieur Férulus, who seemed
to have made up his mind to eat and drink and talk for the whole party,
did not let the conversation flag, and took pains at every turn to throw
some flattery or some compliment into the face of Robineau, who received
it all with delight, and considered Monsieur Férulus much more agreeable
than his two friends. The schoolmaster had already attained his end; the
atmosphere of the château was much pleasanter to him than that of his
school, and toward the close of the dinner, in the fulness of his heart,
he said:
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, I feel that I have imbibed a very strong
attachment for you."
"Monsieur Férulus," said Robineau bowing, "I beg you to believe that on
my side----"
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, it came to me immediately when I saw you
approaching on your donkey. There exists a secret sympathy between great
men; and if you are great in birth and in worldly wealth, I flatter
myself that I am in knowledge. I am a veritable well in the matter of
learning! You must have a library in your château."
"I have one in the South Tower."
"In that case you absolutely must have a librarian."
"But the fact is that there are no books in the library."
"Never mind, we will put some in it. I will bring mine, all classical
works. You must realize, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, that a château
without a library is like a dinner without soup, like a handsome man
with only one eye, or a pretty woman who limps. Look you, Monsieur de la
Roche-Noire, do you know what I am capable of doing for you?--I have the
honor of drinking to your health."
Robineau thought for some time, then replied:
"Faith, no, I can’t imagine."
"If you can’t imagine, I must explain to you; that is the way that the
Sibyls always answered those who consulted them; and when they had
expounded their oracle, ordinarily it was understood no better. But to
return to the subject: you absolutely must have a librarian."
"But I thought that as----"
"No, you must have one first of all; and to be the depository of the
learning which the Château of La Roche-Noire must contain, requires a
profound, erudite, scholarly and modest man. Now I look about in vain
over all the country within ten leagues, I see no other than myself who
combines all these qualities; _consequentia consequentium_, I will be
your librarian."
"Oh! Monsieur Férulus----"
"I have the honor to drink to the health of Monsieur de la Roche-Noire.
Yes, I will leave everything, I will turn my pupils over to my
sub-master; and I have five at this moment. But no matter! Money is
nothing to me. Moreover, I have taken it into my head to make your name
immortal, and I will do it. I will compose in your honor Greek, Latin,
French and Hebrew verses; you shall be a Mæcenas, an Augustus; I will be
your Horace, your Virgil; and to make you immortal, I ask simply a
salary of four hundred francs, with board and lodging."
Robineau considered that four hundred francs a year was not a high price
to pay for becoming immortal, so he shook hands with Monsieur Férulus
and the bargain was concluded. The new librarian promised to come and
take up his quarters at the château next day. They drank more bumpers to
the pleasure that they anticipated in each other’s society; and by dint
of arguing about the advantages of knowledge, and of drinking to the
health of the great men of antiquity, they ended by not knowing what
they were saying. Alfred and Edouard had retired long since, and
Robineau concluded to follow their example; but on attempting to rise
from the table, he was surprised to find that he was dizzy and that his
legs gave way. He rang for François to take him to his apartment,
saying: "This is strange! Anyone would say that I was a little bit
tipsy."
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire," said Férulus, trying to find his hat,
"there is no harm in getting a little fuddled; Alexander the Great got
tipsy sometimes, and our ancestors used to drink hard. In Germany, a man
did not think that he had treated his guest in a friendly fashion, if he
did not send him home drunk; and in Russia the Muscovites used to be so
frantically fond of wine that when they could no longer swallow it, they
took injections of it. When I become your house-guest, I hope that we
shall reintroduce some of the customs of antiquity.--Until to-morrow,
Monsieur de la Roche-Noire!"
Monsieur Férulus left the château in almost the same condition in which
Cunette and Vincent had left the ball; and Robineau flung himself upon
his bed, with his head in a whirl, but overjoyed to think that there was
some point of resemblance between himself and Alexander the Great.
XIV
LOVE HURTS FRIENDSHIP
The wish to see Isaure again had made both of the young men early
risers; Robineau was still sleeping soundly when Edouard left his room
and stole softly down the stairs leading to the courtyard. He made as
little noise as possible, for he was afraid of waking Alfred; indeed, he
was afraid of meeting him; he did not suspect that this time the young
baron had stolen a march on him, and that he had left the château half
an hour before.