On the afternoon of the day when they returned to Beaupré Paul Verney
ordered Toni to report to him at the Château Bernard for a message.
Paul and Lucie were having tea together at a little table on the
terrace when Toni arrived. Anything more brilliant and sparkling than
Lucie's face could not be imagined. She smiled charmingly on Toni,
inquired after Denise and sent word to her to come to the château. Paul
looked as cheerful and composed as ever, and said to Lucie in quite a
matter-of-fact, husbandlike manner:
"I have some business to attend to, so I must ask you to excuse me."
Lucie had found out this early in her married life, that when Paul had
business to attend to she must vanish, which she did promptly. Then
Paul, lighting his cigar gaily, said to Toni, standing at attention,
the picture of dejection:
"Well, Toni, I think I have settled those two fellows. I had a talk
with the colonel about them to-day and he says that while we were away
on the practice march some of their doings came to light, and that we
would be able to send them to Algiers as _disciplinaires_. There is a
batch going off next week, and we shall try to send our friends along
with them."
"How long will they be away?" asked Toni.
"That depends," replied Paul. "We can only send them for a year as it
is--if they keep on as they have been behaving here they may have to
spend the rest of their lives in Algiers. But to get them out of the
way for the present is good fortune enough. I have told the colonel the
whole story about Count Delorme, and what a perfectly abject coward you
are, Toni, in many ways, and he agrees with me that we had better not
open the whole subject, but just get these two rascals off quietly. So
if you can manage to keep from bawling like a baby for the next week
and will be only half a man, the thing can be settled."
"I will try," said Toni, without making any promise of not bawling like
a baby.
The good news, however, did enable him to keep from letting the whole
thing out to Denise. She found Toni rather depressed and unhappy during
that week, but on the morning when the batch of hard cases was put on
the train to be started for Marseilles, and Nicolas and Pierre were
among them, Toni's heart bounded with joy. He could not deny himself
the pleasure of seeing his two old comrades off. They were the most
sullen and angry of all the sullen and angry _disciplinaires_ sent to
atone for their misdeeds under the fierce sun of Africa. As the train
moved slowly off, Nicolas thrust his red head out of the window and,
shaking his fist at Toni, cried:
"Don't forget--we shan't forget."
Toni, however, tried his best to forget, and succeeded beyond his
expectations. He had thought himself lucky when Nicolas and Pierre were
out of sight, but now, when he remembered that they were in Africa, and
called to mind all the chances of fever and cholera and other things
that, if they befell his two comrades in arms, would be of distinct
benefit to him, he felt positively cheerful, and, as Paul Verney said,
if Pierre and Nicolas kept up their career as they had done since they
had joined the regiment, they would probably leave their bones in
Africa.
So Toni, thrusting off his load of care, more than he had ever done
since that secret of the woods at midnight and the dead man lying stark
with his face upturned to the murky sky had been laid upon him, grew
merry at heart. There was a good deal to make him happy then. Denise
was thoroughly devoted to him, and the sergeant, who was being very
skilfully played by Madame Marcel, became perfectly reconciled to the
match between Toni and Denise. After all, even if Sergeant Duval did
not succeed in marrying Madame Marcel, he reflected that Toni would
not be ill provided for, as Madame Marcel was extremely well off for a
lady of her condition. As a means of advancing Toni's interests, Madame
Marcel was always writing to the sergeant asking him how she should
invest such considerable sums as six hundred francs and once even nine
hundred francs. This last sum was so very imposing that the sergeant,
in giving her his advice, felt compelled to renew his offer of his hand
and heart. To this Madame Marcel returned a most diplomatic reply.
She said if she could see Toni married to Denise she would feel more
like considering the offer. At present it was her only desire to see
that happy event come off. Then, possibly, after providing liberally
for Toni, she might take the sergeant's offer under reflection. The
sergeant, after receiving this letter, thought himself as good as
married to Madame Marcel.
The autumn and the winter passed as pleasantly as the summer. Paul
and Lucie, after spending the summer at the Château Bernard, had come
into the town and taken the small house in which they played at being
poor. It was as pretty a little bower as any newly-married couple
ever had. They kept only three servants and Toni still waited on Paul
Verney, and there was plenty for him to do. He had no natural love for
work and still reckoned it the height of bliss to lie on his stomach
in the long grass and watch the gnats dancing in the sun and the
foolishly industrious bees, always at work for others, get gloriously
drunk on the clover blossoms. But for a private in the dragoons there
was not much time for this sort of thing, and if Toni had to work he
would rather work for the Verneys than for anybody else. There was
a little garden behind the house in which Toni dug and planted and
watered diligently under Lucie's critical eye, and this was the least
unpleasant work that he had ever done.
Lucie fathomed his character as well as Paul did. She knew of all
his strange ins and outs, his courage and cowardice, his foolish
loving heart. Denise, by that time, had got the upper hand of Toni as
completely as Paul Verney had got the upper hand of Lucie. Like all
tender-hearted women, Lucie was a natural and incurable match-maker.
Nothing pleased her better than to forward the affair between Toni
and Denise. She stopped Sergeant Duval in the street to praise
Toni's virtues, expatiating upon his industry. The sergeant listened
respectfully enough until Toni's industry was mentioned, when a grim
look came into his eyes.
"Yes, Madame," he said, "he is the most industrious fellow alive as
long as I am after him and he has the prospect of being put in the
barrack prison on bread and water. Oh, there is nobody who works harder
than Toni." Lucie passed on laughing.
But there was a reason why Toni was so willing always to dig in the
garden. There was a little sewing-room on the ground floor which had
a window that opened on the garden, and at that window Denise, early
in the winter, was established with her sewing. She was a beautiful
seamstress, and having ten thousand francs to her fortune by no means
lessened her inclination to work for the good wages which Madame Verney
paid her. And there was a great deal of sewing to be done just then
in the little house, so while Toni dug and planted in the garden and
worked among the flowers in the little greenhouse, he could glance
up and see Denise's pretty blond head bending over her fine sewing.
Toni became so devoted to waiting on Lucie that he grew positively
inattentive to Paul, who was compelled to swear at Toni once in a while
and threaten to cuff him to bring him to his senses.
At New Year's Paul's father and mother and Captain and Madame Ravenel
came to Beaupré for a visit. The little house could not accommodate
more than two persons besides the master and mistress, so Monsieur and
Madame Verney were entertained in great style at the Château Bernard by
Madame Bernard. Toni had never been able to see Madame Ravenel without
being reminded, as Paul had told him in their boyhood, of a soft and
solemn strain of music in a dim cathedral, or of the river taking its
way at twilight softly through the grassy meadow where the violets
grew. She was still sad--she never could be anything but that--but her
beautiful eyes had lost their troubled look and she seemed at peace.
Captain Ravenel was the same quiet, silent, soldierly man as always,
who was never far from Madame Ravenel's side. No woman was ever better
loved and protected than poor Sophie. On this visit, for the first
time, Toni plucked up spirit enough to speak to Madame Ravenel. She
talked with him, in her gentle voice, about Bienville and his life
there, and of Denise, and how she had been amused at watching them
when they were little children together. Toni told Madame Ravenel how
he dodged furtively around the corner of the acacia tree and climbed
upon the garden wall to see her pass to and from church. Madame Ravenel
went to church as much as ever, but now she went a little way within
the church, though never close up to the altar, and Captain Ravenel
maintained his old practice of escorting her to church and walking up
and down in the street smoking his cigar until she came out, when he
escorted her home again, and never let her be one waking moment without
his protection.
Since Lucie had come into her American fortune the Ravenels no
longer found it necessary to practise that stern economy which had
characterized the first years of their married life. Lucie made Sophie
accept an allowance, small indeed compared with the fortune which
Delorme had squandered, but it was enough to lift the Ravenels above
poverty. The week that the Ravenels and the Verneys were at Beaupré was
a time of quiet happiness to everybody in the modest house in which
Lucie played at being poor. Madame Bernard had, of course, declared at
first that she could only see Sophie and Ravenel surreptitiously, as
it were, but ended, as she invariably did, by driving up in her great
coach and absolutely taking Sophie to drive in the face of all Beaupré.
This was Lucie's doing, unaided by either of the persons concerned, by
Paul, or by Captain Ravenel, but Lucie was accustomed to triumphs of
this sort and knew perfectly well how to achieve them.
One morning, a year after Paul's marriage, when Toni went to him at
seven o'clock in the morning, he found Paul already up and dressed and
walking in the garden, and he shouted, as Toni came in:
"It's a boy, Toni."
And that very day Toni was taken up stairs into a darkened room where,
in a lace and silk covered bassinet lay the little Paul, who seemed to
Toni at once grotesque and sacred, as indeed it seemed to Paul himself.
The baby waxed and thrived, and, after a while, when Lucie and Paul
again had their breakfast in the garden, as they had done in their
early married life, the baby was brought out and lay in his nurse's
arms blinking solemnly at the great wide world before him. Paul Verney
was a devoted father, and as he had talked intimately with Toni all his
life, so he talked with him about this child so longed for and so loved.
"It seems to me, Toni," said Paul, one morning after breakfast in the
garden, when Lucie and the baby had gone within for their noonday rest,
and Paul was looking over some papers which Toni had brought him, "it
seems to me, Toni, as if I am too happy. It makes me afraid."
A look of fear came into Toni's eyes.
"I feel the same way," he whispered, "everything seems to be too
easy--too bright. Now, if the sergeant had kept on opposing me or if
Mademoiselle Duval were against me--but I do assure you, Paul, they
are both as sweet as milk. I don't know how long it will last, but if
it lasts until I marry Denise that will be long enough. My mother
has just sold a little piece of ground she had, on the outskirts of
Bienville, and has got a thumping price for it. I think the sergeant is
more in love with her than ever, since she sold the ground for such a
price."
"Well, Toni," answered Paul gaily, "we don't deserve our
happiness--that much is certain. I am no more fit for Lucie than you
are fit for Denise--she's a thousand times too good for you and always
will be--but we can enjoy our happiness just the same."
Another year passed, and Toni had come to believe that this earth
was Heaven and would have been most unwilling to leave it for the
brightest prospects above. Denise was then very busy sewing at her
wedding trousseau, and Toni would be Paul's servant only a little while
longer. A corporal was Toni to become--an honor that Toni had no more
dreamed of than of succeeding President Loubet. This honor was equally
astonishing to Sergeant Duval. But all the same Toni was to be promoted
and was not to ride in the ranks any longer. This distinction he had
not coveted, as it implied a great deal more work even than he had to
do as a private soldier.
But one must accept honors even when thrust upon one. It made the
prospect of the riding-school seem less attractive to Toni. He not only
began to feel that the separation from Paul would be harder than ever,
but from Lucie also, and the little baby Paul. In some unaccountable
way this little morsel of humanity had stolen his way into Toni's
heart, so much so, that when the baby preferred to play with Jacques in
preference to all the expensive toys which were lavished on him, Toni
actually tied Jacques around the baby's neck and made a solemn gift
of it to him. It seemed almost incredible to Toni that he could give
Jacques away, but it was to him very like the bestowal of a splendid
heirloom on a child who is to carry on the traditions of a great family.
As for the sergeant, ever since Madame Marcel had sold her piece of
ground, he had treated Toni as a son. When Toni was made a corporal,
he could command his own time much more than when he had been a
private soldier, but Denise, like most brides, was so taken up with
the important matter of the trousseau that she had very little time
to bestow on Toni. Toni, never having questioned her authority in his
life, quietly submitted to this.
[Illustration: "A corporal was Toni to become."]
At last the great day drew near--it was only a week off--the day of
Toni's marriage. Toni expected to be frightened to death, but Paul
warned him that if he showed the white feather he should have the
long-promised cuffing as soon as he returned from his wedding tour. The
sergeant also suspected Toni's courage and kept a stern eye on him in
the last day or so before the wedding, but Toni maintained his courage
and declared the only thing he dreaded was the march up the aisle of
the church and back again, in which apprehension he did not stand alone
among bridegrooms. Although it was only the wedding of a corporal and
the sergeant's daughter, it was to be quite a grand affair, chiefly
through the exertions of Lucie, who dearly loved to make a gala out of
everything and particularly out of Toni's and Denise's marriage. She
had bestowed presents on them with a lavish hand and Paul, out of his
small pay and allowance, had given Toni a handsome gold watch.
The great question of the honeymoon and where it was to be spent came
up. Being a corporal, Toni could get a short leave--how much he did not
know.
The next day Toni laid his case before Paul when he and Lucie were
at breakfast in the garden. The boy could now toddle about, his dark,
bright eyes like his mother's. He was fonder than ever of Toni and
liked to be carried on his strong arm. Toni was holding the baby thus
and he was clutching Jacques devotedly in his little hand. Lucie
suggested a whole week, but Paul shook his head at the mention of a
week's leave for a corporal.
"It would be very unusual," he said.
Lucie said nothing at all, but when Paul had gone off, went up, and,
taking the baby out of Toni's arms and laying her soft cheek against
little Paul's rose-leaf face, said to Toni:
"I think I can manage it."
And she did, in a manner precisely like Lucie. She dressed herself in
her prettiest gown and hat, took her white lace parasol and, getting
into a carriage, went in search of the colonel of the regiment. When
she found him she poured out the story of Toni and Denise and all about
Bienville, including her childish love affair with Paul. And then she
went on and recounted with such inimitable drollery her efforts to
wring an offer out of Paul, his horror at her American ways of doing
things, and the perplexity which a Frenchman always experiences in his
love-affairs with an American, that the colonel burst out laughing and
agreed to do anything Lucie should ask, and what she asked was one
whole week of leave for Toni's honeymoon. The colonel also promised to
protect Lucie from Paul's wrath when he should hear how Toni's leave
had been obtained. This was needed, for Paul scowled and growled that
women should not meddle with such things, to which Lucie promptly
agreed, except when it should be some affair in which, like this, a
woman was deeply interested.
Mademoiselle Duval hankered very much to go on the honeymoon with
Toni and Denise, but having heard that Paris was a very sinful place
she doubted the wisdom of trusting herself there even for a visit.
Toni contrived to make her understand that Paris was a great deal
more sinful even than she suspected it to be, that there were few
churches and the means of salvation were limited, and finally convinced
Mademoiselle Duval that she would risk her soul's salvation by
venturing in that wicked town.