would recover."
"Ah! so much the better! I am very glad to hear that."
"But it may take a long time; he'll have to be very careful. Monsieur
has lost a great deal of blood; he is very weak, and, between ourselves,
he's no longer young."
"Between ourselves, and between all the rest of the world, too."
"He is forbidden to speak or to receive visits to-day."
"And I have no intention of asking to be admitted; I simply wanted to
know how he was; he will get well, that's the main point. What does it
matter whether it's a long recovery or not? The count is rich; he can
coddle himself in bed as long as it's necessary."
"True, monsieur; but, still, this wound comes at a very bad time; for--I
can safely tell you; it's no longer a secret--my master's on the point
of being married."
"Married!"
"Yes, it's a fact; and to a young lady, a very pretty one."
"Well, my boy, to marry, at your master's age, is much more dangerous
than a sword-thrust--especially when the bride is young and
pretty--aggravating circumstances!"
"Ha! ha! I fancy monsieur is right."
"Good-morning! I will call again to inquire."
"And now," said Cherami to himself, "if I knew where Gustave is, I would
tell him that his rival is on his back. I think I will go to his house
to inquire. He has separate apartments; and, at a pinch, if the
concierge can't tell me anything, I will brave once more the uncle's
winning countenance."
Gustave's concierge knew that he was not in Paris, but he knew no more
than that. Cherami decided to make his way once more into the banker's
private office; he was always sure to find him at his desk in the
morning.
Monsieur Grandcourt frowned when he recognized his visitor. But Cherami
was even more carefully dressed than on the occasion of his last visit.
With the thousand francs he had received from Gustave, and by virtue of
his newly-adopted system of economy, Beau Arthur had reached the point
where he was no longer an ex-beau, and had almost recovered his former
air of distinction.
He saluted the banker with the ease of manner which was natural to him,
but to which his dress imparted additional charm. Monsieur Grandcourt
replied with a cool nod. As he did not leave his armchair, Cherami took
a seat and began by making himself comfortable. The two men looked at
each other for several minutes without speaking: the banker retaining
his scowling expression, Cherami smiling as if he were at the Theatre du
Palais-Royal, listening to Arnal.
"How are you this morning, my dear Monsieur Grandcourt?" began Cherami,
lolling back in his chair.
"Very well, I thank you, monsieur. Is it to inquire for my health that
you come to my office to-day?"
"Oh! if I should say _yes_, you wouldn't believe me."
"True. But I remember that my nephew told me that you wished to find
employment. You appear, however, monsieur, to be more fortunately placed
than you were when I first saw you?"
"It is a fact, monsieur, that my condition has improved somewhat. But
that does not interfere with my seeking a--suitable place. I am
beginning to tire of doing nothing. I am really desirous to have
something to occupy my time."
"That desire comes a little late!"
"You know the proverb: better late than never. And then, after all, I am
only forty-eight; I am not an old man. You are fully as old as that, and
yet you work!"
"But I have always worked, monsieur; it's a habit with me, a necessity.
I didn't have to make a study of it--a study which is often repellent
when one begins it late in life."
"Have you any place to offer me, monsieur?"
"No, I have not."
"Well, then, why do you ask me all these questions? I do not imagine
that it is your purpose to make sport of me."
"Is it yours to pick a quarrel with me?"
"No, no! sapristi! I am not picking a quarrel with you--Gustave's uncle,
and he my best friend! Oh! if you weren't his uncle, I don't say
that--but you are his uncle.--Let us come to the point; I came to ask
you where your nephew is at this moment."
"My nephew is travelling: he is in one place to-day, in another
to-morrow."
"Oh! I see that we are going to have the same old song over again! You
will not give me his address?--But if I want to write to him, to tell
him something which will give him great pleasure, which will make him
happy?"
"Tell me, and I'll write it to him."
"That isn't the same thing. But, no matter, I will tell you. You know, I
suppose, that his _passion_, whom he thought he was surely going to
marry this time, has thrown him over again, in favor of a very rich old
count?"
"I know all that, monsieur."
"Good! but what you don't know is that I don't propose that my friend
shall be played with with impunity. That is why I hunted up this Comte
de la Beriniere; I insulted him; we fought a duel, and he is now in his
bed with a famous sword-thrust in his right side."
Monsieur Grandcourt jumped from his chair and struck his desk a violent
blow, crying:
"Is it possible? You have done that?"
"As I have the honor to tell you. Do you wish to embrace me?"
"On the contrary, monsieur, I am much more inclined to throw you out of
the window!"
"Indeed! well, as we are on the ground floor, if that will give you
pleasure----"
"Why, monsieur, this is a horrible thing that you've done! And you call
yourself Gustave's friend! You seem to be trying to wreck his life.
Can't you see that this Fanny is an infernal coquette, who cares for
nothing but money and pleasure, and who never had the slightest feeling
of love for my nephew?"
"As far as that goes, I am entirely of your opinion."
"Very well! do you think, then, that marriage with such a woman would
make Gustave happy?"
"_Dame!_ since he adores her----"
"Why, monsieur, do I need to tell you that love doesn't last forever?
Besides, what purpose does that sentiment serve in a household when it's
not reciprocated? Gustave is kind-hearted, sensitive, affectionate--much
too affectionate. What he needs is a sweet, modest, loving helpmeet."
"That is true!" murmured Cherami; "and I know one of that sort."
"And you would have him marry a woman who has spurned him twice? Why, to
miss being this Fanny's husband was the most fortunate thing that could
happen to him! All his true friends ought to congratulate him on it. And
you, monsieur, you set about removing the obstacle which had risen
between my nephew and that widow! You fight with the man she preferred
to Gustave! Ah! monsieur, cease to call yourself his friend; for his
bitterest enemy would not have acted otherwise!"
Cherami paced the floor of the office with long strides, and bit his
lips, muttering:
"Sacrebleu! that is all true. There is good sense in what you say. On
the impulse of the moment, I didn't reflect. I saw but one thing to
do--and that was to prevent the little widow's making a fool of
Gustave."
"Oh! monsieur, she would do it much more effectively if he should marry
her."
"After all, I didn't kill the count--a sword-thrust in the side is
nothing; he will get well; the doctor said so."
"That is possible; but who can say that this duel will not change his
plans, his ideas? At the count's age, a wound, an illness, sometimes
ages a man ten years; and then love takes flight, and with it all
thought of marriage."
"Oh! the count was dead in love, and when a fire gets started in an old
house it burns faster than a new one."
"Do you still consider, monsieur, that it's very important to tell my
nephew of your fine exploit? Have you any wish to see him rush to that
wretched Fanny's side again?"
"You have changed my ideas entirely, dear uncle. I'm a hot-headed
creature; but I am not pig-headed. When I feel that I've done a foolish
thing, I admit it."
"That's something."
"But, I tell you again, the count's wound is not dangerous; he will
recover."
"I trust so, monsieur; and above all things that he will marry this
Fanny."
"In that case, you will no longer feel inclined to throw me out of the
window?"
"In that case, I will forgive you for this last escapade."
"Adieu, dear uncle! Look you: you are hard with me; but in my heart I
don't lay it up against you, because I see that you love your nephew."
"Ah! have you just discovered that?"
"I shall take pains to keep you informed as to the health of our
venerable lover. As soon as he is on his legs again, I will come to tell
you. And then, if he should try to back out of marrying the little
widow, why, par la sambleu! he will have to draw his sword again."
"I beg you, monsieur, don't interfere any more; that's the only way to
have the thing end satisfactorily."
"You haven't much confidence in me, dear uncle; but I will compel you to
do me justice."--And Cherami took leave of the banker, saying to
himself: "That devil of a man is right. I made an ass of myself; but
I'll go to work differently now."
LVI
IMPATIENCE WITHOUT LOVE
While these things were taking place, Madame Monleard was in a state of
feverish unrest.
Since the Comte de la Beriniere had definitely offered her his hand,
which she had not refused, he came every day to pay his respects to her.
The ten months of widowhood, which the conventionalities demand, had
passed. The count, who was in haste to witness the coronation of his
flame, was already arranging the preliminaries of his marriage. Among
them were gifts,--jewels and cashmere shawls,--and, on the day preceding
that on which he had received Cherami's visit, he had passed the whole
day taking Fanny about to see the latest styles in gowns and shawls, so
that he might understand her tastes and govern his purchases
accordingly. And the pretty widow had shown no embarrassment about
riding in the carriage which was soon to belong to her.
During the day following Cherami's challenge, the count, having to seek
seconds for his duel, had had no time to call on Fanny. He did not see
her until evening, and, like the well-bred man he was, had taken care
not to mention the affair which he had on his hands because of her. The
next day, his seconds had called on his adversary, and had then reported
to Monsieur de la Beriniere that the time and place and all the details
of the duel had been agreed upon. That had given the count further food
for thought. He was no coward, and yet the duel was exceedingly
disagreeable to him; his interviews with the pretty widow had shown the
effects of it; he had been less amorous, less affable, and less cheerful
in her presence.
When the following day came and went without a call from the count,
Fanny was first surprised, then vexed, then alarmed. Twenty times she
went to her mirror, which told her that she was as pretty as ever, and
that her elderly adorer ought to be only too happy that she condescended
to pretend to love him. Meanwhile, the day passed, and the evening, and
the count did not appear.
"He means to make me some beautiful present," said Fanny to herself;
"and he wants to bring it himself; but all these shopkeepers are so
little to be depended on! He probably waited in vain, and didn't want to
come without his present. I shall have it to-morrow."
On the morrow, the clock struck twelve, one, two, and no sign of the
count.
"This isn't natural," thought Fanny. "Something must certainly have
happened. I remember, now, that Monsieur de la Beriniere was
distraught, preoccupied, the last two evenings that he was here. I
charged him with it, and he said I was mistaken. But I was not
mistaken!--Justine, go down and ask the concierge if there isn't a
letter for me; if a message hasn't come from the count. Those people
often forget to tell you when anyone calls."
Justine soon returned, and informed her mistress that there were no
letters and that no one had called. Fanny placed herself at the window,
and still there was no arrival.
At five o'clock in the afternoon, unable to remain inactive any longer,
she said to her maid:
"Take a cab by the hour; here is Monsieur de la Beriniere's address; go
there, and find out from the concierge if anything has happened to him;
if he is ill, ask to see him, and tell him how deeply interested I am in
his health. Go quickly, so that I may know what to think."
Justine went off in her cab. The pretty widow counted the minutes and
kept looking at the clock. At last her servant returned. Her breathless,
dismayed air made it evident enough that she had something to tell; and
as she entered the room, she cried out, wringing her hands:
"Ah! madame, indeed there is something new. Oh! the poor count! what a
calamity!"
"Heavens! Justine, is he dead?"
"No, madame; he isn't dead yet, but very near it!"
"What accident has happened to him, then?"
"No accident, madame; but a fight with swords--a duel, in fact!"
"The count has been fighting a duel?"
"Yes, madame; and yesterday morning they brought him home wounded. A bad
sword-wound in the side, which might have been mortal! But it seems
he's going to get well; the doctor hopes he will, but doctors are
mistaken so often!"
"Oh! mon Dieu! Why, this is horrible! With whom did he fight?"
"His valet doesn't know, madame. The count didn't take him with him."
"Well, I will find out, I will find out. A duel! Who besides Gustave
could have had the idea of fighting with Monsieur de la Beriniere? That
fellow was born to be the bane of my life.--So you didn't see the
count?"
"No, madame; the doctor said that nobody must see him to-day; but
to-morrow, perhaps, that order will be changed."
"The poor count! if only he doesn't die! Just think, Justine, what an
awful nuisance for me!"
"So it is. But if madame were a countess, it wouldn't be but half bad."
"You say the doctor promises that he will recover?"
"So the valet told me."
"Well, I will go myself to-morrow; but I must see my sister first."
"I thought that madame did not go to her father's now?"
"Oh! because in an outburst of anger he told me not to come again. As if
he remembered that! Besides, it isn't my father that I want to see, but
Adolphine."
The next morning, at eleven o'clock, Madame Monleard was ushered into
the presence of her sister, who uttered a cry of surprise when she saw
her.
"What! is it you, Fanny?"
"To be sure; Madeleine told me that father had just gone out; I am glad
of that."
"Oh! never fear; his anger has passed away. It never lasts long with
him, you know."
"But I am the one who is angry now."
"You! with whom?"
"With everybody. You pretend to be surprised; but you must know what has
happened?"
"No. What can have happened to irritate you so?"
"I have good reason for it. Monsieur de la Beriniere fought a duel the
day before yesterday, and was badly wounded; a little more and they'd
have killed him for me!"
"Mon Dieu! with whom did he fight, in heaven's name?"
"Do you ask me that? You know well enough; indeed, it's easy enough to
guess."
"I certainly cannot guess."
"Who but Gustave, in his rage, because I preferred the count to him?"
"Gustave? why, that is impossible. He left Paris a week ago; he came to
say good-bye to us, and Monsieur de Raincy, who has just come from
England, met him there."
"Is it possible that it wasn't Gustave? Then who could it have
been--unless it was that tall swashbuckler who fought with Auguste?"
"Yes, it must have been he."
"That's it! that fellow seems to have the very devil in him! As soon as
I am married, or when someone thinks of marrying me, he appears with his
long sword. Why, it's a perfect outrage! Ah! that Monsieur Cherami! And
I have been so polite to him, too--asked him to come to see me!"
"What! you asked him to come to see you? A man who had fought with your
husband?"
"Well! what has that to do with it? You know perfectly well that they
made it up. But I must go to inquire for the poor count. Perhaps I can
see him to-day, and find out how this duel came about. Ah! mon Dieu! if
Monsieur de la Beriniere should die, I should be a widow a second time,
and without being a countess!"
Fanny left Adolphine much disturbed and agitated by what she had heard.
The young widow drove to Monsieur de la Beriniere's house, and found
that the doctor had revoked his orders of the day before; she could see
the count, on condition that she would not let him talk much.
The young woman entered the sick-room with every manifestation of the
keenest interest; she uttered heartfelt exclamations, sighed profoundly,
and winked her eyes so often that she succeeded in making them very red.
The count smiled at his pretty visitor and held out his hand, which she
seized and pressed to her bosom.
"If you had been killed," she cried, "I should not have survived you!
But who was the savage? How did this duel come about?"
"I am forbidden to talk," murmured the count, in a weak voice.
"Oh! of course, excuse me. My curiosity is very natural, however. Just a
word: was it my old play-fellow with whom you fought?"
"No; it was a friend of his--named Cherami."
"Monsieur Cherami? Oh! the miserable wretch! It was he before--with
Auguste. But what, in God's name, have I ever done to that man? or,
rather, what have they whom I love done to him? However, my dear count,
you will recover, there's no doubt of that; and then, by dint of love
and loving attentions, I hope to make you forget an incident of which I
was the first cause."
"You think it isn't serious?"
"No, certainly not; it will amount to nothing. God! if the wound had
been dangerous--if I had had reason to fear for your life--I don't know
what would have become of me! Ah! when anything happens to those who are
dear to us, that is the time we feel--how dear they are to us!"
"You are too kind."
"Are you in pain?"
"Only a little; but I am exceedingly weak."
"I will go, for I am capable of talking to you too much, in spite of
myself, and that would tire you. Au revoir, my dear count! I will come
every day, or send to inquire for you."
"Thanks a thousand times!"
"May the thought of me be some company to you, as the thought of you
will be a sweet consolation to me!--Mon Dieu! how hideous he is in bed!"
said the little woman to herself as she left the room.
LVII
CHERAMI ATTEMPTS TO REPAIR HIS MISTAKES
Three weeks passed. The count was beginning to sit up and to walk about
his room; but he was still very weak, and the blood that he had lost
seemed to have carried away all that he had still retained of
youthfulness, activity, and amiability. Fanny had been to see him almost
every day, although she was sadly bored all the time that she was with
the wounded man; she was very careful, however, to conceal her ennui and
to dissemble her yawns; on the contrary, she feigned to be more
affectionate than ever; but his convalescence seemed to her
interminable, especially because she did not fail to notice the change
that had taken place in the humor of her future spouse, who seemed to
have aged ten years in a fortnight.
Soon the count was able to drive out; whereupon Fanny murmured, lowering
her eyes:
"I think that we might now fix the day which is to unite us forever."
But Monsieur de la Beriniere shook his head.
"I am not strong enough yet," he replied.
And the young widow said to herself:
"I am very much afraid that he never will be strong enough again!"
Things were at this point, when Madame Monleard's maid informed her
mistress one morning that Monsieur Cherami requested the honor of an
interview with her.
"Monsieur Cherami!" cried Fanny. "What! that man dares show himself at
my house! my evil genius! But, no matter! I am curious to know what he
can have to say to me.--Show the gentleman in."
Cherami, who had not omitted to make an elaborate toilet, came forward
with a smiling face, saying:
"Madame Monleard did not expect a call from me?"
"No, monsieur, most assuredly not. After what has taken place between
you and Monsieur de la Beriniere, I did not expect to see you here; but,
since you are here, I trust that you will be good enough to tell me why
you challenged a man you did not know, and who had not injured you?"
"Mon Dieu! madame, surely you can guess. I wished to avenge poor
Gustave, whom you have played with like a macaroon."
"Great heaven! monsieur, what is the meaning of this frenzy of yours for
taking up the cudgels for Gustave? He doesn't think of fighting duels
himself, you see! he takes things as they come; he's a good boy, and
doesn't lose his head; he goes away, and that's the end of it. But you!
And your conduct is all the more blamable because, when I met you not
long ago, you made me all sorts of offers of your services. You assured
me that you would be overjoyed if you could be agreeable to me in any
way; and, in order to be agreeable to me, you go to work and challenge
Monsieur de la Beriniere, for no reason at all; you compel him to fight;
and you run your sword into him just when he was going to marry me! If
that's the kind of service you meant to offer me, I excuse you from
obliging me hereafter."
"I begin by confessing, madame, that I realize my mistake. I followed
the first impulse; but I was wrong. I have realized since that I made
an awful blunder; and I have come humbly to beg your pardon."
"You confess your wrong-doing; that is well enough! but what is done is
done, none the less."
"The count has recovered; he goes out to drive; I am sure of that."
"Yes, the count is beginning to go out; but he is not the same man; his
humor has completely changed; he has lost his light, playful tone. He
was a young man, now he's old. When I mention our marriage, he replies:
'My strength doesn't seem to come back.'--In short, he no longer acts as
if he were in love with me; and you, monsieur, you are the cause of it."
"Very well, madame; as I have done the mischief, I propose to remedy it.
The count shall become amorous again, and of a cheerful humor, and eager
to marry you; for I want him to marry you now, and, par la sambleu! I
will succeed! I have my cue!"
"You have a cue?"
"That's just a little phrase I'm in the habit of using; I mean that I
have my scheme."
"Are you telling me the truth, monsieur? Do you really desire now to see
me marry Monsieur de la Beriniere?"
"Madame, women have often deceived me; but I have always been honest
with them--in order not to resemble them. I have no reason for lying to
you."
"And how do you propose to set about making the count what he was?"
"Rely on me! But it is necessary that Monsieur de la Beriniere should
consent to receive me. If I call on him, it's not certain that he will
see me. You must have the kindness to say a few words to him in my
favor--that I realize my mistake and would be glad to apologize to him;
that I have asked you to intercede for me."
"If that is all that is necessary, all right. I shall go to see the
count soon; come to-morrow morning, and I will tell you what he says.
Suppose it is favorable?"
"A week hence, it will all be over, and you will be a countess."
"Really? but what method do you propose to employ?"
"Don't you be disturbed; I have my cue, I tell you."
LVIII
THE COUSIN'S SPECIFIC
About midday, the pretty widow paid her customary visit to Monsieur de
la Beriniere, whom she found installed in his easy-chair _a la_
Voltaire, drinking herb tea.
"How are you to-day, my dear count?" she inquired, taking a seat by the
convalescent's side.
"I am getting on very slowly, thank you, fair lady; the wound has
entirely healed, but my strength doesn't return very fast."
"What are you drinking there?"
"An infusion of linden leaves."
"Do you think that that stuff will ever bring back your strength?"
"My doctor says that it's an excellent thing. It's very soothing."
"It seems to me that you are quite calm enough. Look you, count, I
haven't much confidence in your doctor."
"But, you see, he has cured my wound."
"Your wound would have healed of itself; that wasn't a disease; but now,
instead of giving you something to build you up, he puts you on herb tea
and slops; he treats you like a child!"
"Perhaps you are right, dear lady. It's a fact that he is keeping me to
this diet a good while, on the pretext that I must be prudent."
"If you listen to him, you'll be under the same treatment six months
hence. But enough of that subject; I am intrusted with a singular errand
to you."
"What is it, dear lady?"
"The man with whom you fought this duel----"
"Monsieur Cherami?"
"Exactly. Monsieur Cherami called on me this morning----"
"The deuce! did he undertake to challenge you also?"
"Oh, no! far from it! He came to ask my pardon for his conduct. He
realizes his mistake; he is in despair at what he did; and he wishes, as
a great favor, to be allowed to come to offer you his apologies and tell
you how delighted he is at your recovery."
"Pardieu! he's an extraordinary mortal! He insists upon fighting for his
friend----"