"Leave the room, I tell you," I said, and as she was going out I went up
to her. "My good Louison," I said, "I understand, and I thank you; but
I am not very well to-night, and I have no appetite."
"Ah, M. Maxime," she exclaimed, in tears, "you don't know how you hurt
my feelings. Well, you can pay me for the dinner; you shall if you like;
you can give me the money as soon as you get some ... but if you gave me
a hundred thousand francs, it wouldn't make me so happy as seeing you
eat my poor dinner. You would do me a great kindness, M. Maxime. You,
who are so clever, you ought to understand how I feel. Oh, I know you
will, M. Maxime!"
"Well, my dear Louison, what am I to do? I can't give you a hundred
thousand francs ... but ... I am going to eat your dinner. All by
myself, too, if you don't mind."
"Certainly, sir. Oh, thank you, sir; I thank you very much indeed. You
have a kind heart, sir."
"And a good appetite, Louison. Give me your hand--oh, not to put money
in, you may be sure. There! _Au revoir_, Louison."
The good woman went out sobbing.
I did justice to Louison's dinner, and had just finished writing these
lines when a grave and heavy footstep sounded on the stairs, and at the
same time I thought I heard the voice of my humble providence whispering
confidences in hurried, nervous tones. A moment or two later there was
a knock. Louison slipped away in the darkness, and the solemn outline
of the old notary appeared in the doorway.
M. Laubepin cast a keen glance at the tray where I had left the
fragments of my dinner. Then coming towards me and opening his arms, at
once confused and reproachful, he said:
"In Heaven's name, marquis, why did you not----"
He broke off, strode quickly about the room, and then coming to a sudden
halt, exclaimed:
"Young man, you had no right to do this; you have given pain to a
friend, and you have made an old man blush."
He was much moved. I looked at him, a little moved myself and not
knowing what to say, when he suddenly clasped me in his arms and
murmured in my ear, "My poor child...!"
For a moment we said nothing. When we had sat down, M. Laubepin
continued.
"Maxime," he said, "are you in the same mind as when I left you? Have
you the courage to accept the humblest work, the least important
occupation, provided it is honourable, and that it gives you a
livelihood and preserves your sister from the sufferings and dangers of
poverty?"
"Most certainly I am; it's my duty, and I am ready to do it."
"Very well, my friend. Now listen to me. I have just returned from
Brittany. In that ancient province there is a family called Laroque,
who have for many years past honoured me with their entire confidence.
This family is now represented by an old man and two ladies whom age or
disposition render incapable of business. The Laroques have a
substantial income derived from their large estates in land, which have
latterly been managed by an agent whom I took the liberty to regard as a
rogue. The day following our last interview, Maxime, I received
intelligence of the death of this man. I immediately set out for the
Chateau Laroque and asked for the appointment for you. I laid stress on
your having been called to the bar, and dwelt particularly on your moral
qualities. Respecting your wishes, I did not allude to your birth; you
are not, and will not, be known in that house under any name but that of
Maxime Odiot. A pavilion at some distance from the house will be
allotted to you, and you will be able to have your meals there when, for
any reason, you do not care to join the family at table. Your salary
will be six thousand francs a year. How will that suit you?"
"It will suit me perfectly. You must let me acknowledge at once how
much I feel the consideration and delicacy of your friendship. But to
tell you the truth, I am afraid I am rather a strange kind of business
man--rather a novice, you know."
"You need have no anxiety on that score, my friend. I anticipated your
scruples, and concealed nothing from the parties concerned. 'Madame,' I
said to my excellent friend, Mme. Laroque, 'you require an agent and an
administrator of your income. I offer you one. He is far from
possessing the talents of his predecessor; he is by no means versed in
the mysteries of leases and farm-freeholds; he does not know the
alphabet of the affairs you are so good as to intrust to him; he has had
no experience, no practice, and no opportunity of learning; but he has
something which his predecessor lacked, which sixty years of experience
had not given him, and which he would not have acquired in ten thousand
years--and that is honesty, madame. I have seen him under fire, and I
will answer for him. Engage him; he will be indebted to you, and so
shall I.' Young man, Mme. Laroque laughed very much at my way of
recommending people, but in the end it turned out to be a good way, for
it has succeeded."
The worthy old gentleman then offered to impart to me some elementary
general notions on the kind of administration I was about to undertake,
and to these he added, in connection with the interests of the Laroque
family, the results of some inquiries which he had made and put into
shape for me.
"And when am I to go, my dear sir?"
"To say the truth, my boy" (he had entirely dropped the "marquis"), "the
sooner the better, for those good people could not make out a receipt
unaided. My excellent friend, Mme. Laroque, more especially, though an
admirable woman in many respects, is beyond conception careless,
indiscreet, and childish in business matters. She is a Creole."
"Ah! she is a Creole," I repeated with some vivacity.
"Yes, young man, an old Creole lady," M. Laubepin said dryly. "Her
husband was a Breton; but these details will come in good time....
Good-bye till to-morrow, Maxime, and be of good cheer. Ah! I had
forgotten. On Thursday morning, before my departure, I did something
which will be of service to you. Among your creditors there are some
rogues, whose relations with your father were obviously usurious. Armed
with the thunders of the law, I reduced their claims on my own
responsibility, and made them give me receipts in full. So now your
capital amounts to twenty thousand francs. Add to this reserve what you
are able to save each year from your salary, and in ten years' time we
shall have a good dowry for Helene. Well, well, come and lunch with
Maitre Laubepin to-morrow, and we will settle all the rest. Good-bye,
Maxime; good-night, my dear child!"
"God bless you, sir!"
CHATEAU DE LAROQUE (D'ARZ), _May 1st_.
I left Paris yesterday. My last interview with M. Laubepin was painful.
I feel the affection of a son for the old man. Then I had to bid Helene
farewell. It was necessary to tell her something of the truth, to make
her understand why I was compelled to accept an appointment. I talked
vaguely of temporary business difficulties. The poor child understood, I
think, more than I had said; her large, wondering eyes filled with tears
as she fell upon my neck.
At last I got away. I went by train to Rennes, where I stayed the
night. This morning I took the diligence, which put me down, four or
five hours ago, at a little Morbilian town not far from the chateau of
Laroque. We had travelled ten leagues or more from Rennes, and still I
had seen nothing to justify the reputed picturesqueness of our ancient
Armorica. A flat, green country without variety; eternal apple-trees in
eternal fields; ditches and wooded slopes shutting off the view on both
sides of the road; here and there a nook full of rural charm, and a few
blouses and glazed hats relieving the very ordinary scene. All this
strongly inclined me to think that poetic Brittany was merely a
pretentious and somewhat pallid sister of Lower Normandy. Tired of
disillusions and apple-trees, I had for more than an hour ceased to take
any notice of the country. I was dozing heavily, when I felt suddenly
that the lumbering vehicle was lurching forward heavily. At the same
time the pace of the horses slackened, and a clanking noise, together
with a peculiar vibration, proclaimed that the worst of drivers had
applied the worst of brakes to the worst of diligences. An old lady
clutched my arm with the ready sympathy excited by a sense of common
danger. I put my head out of the window; we were descending, between
two lofty slopes, an extremely steep hill, evidently the work of an
engineer too much enamoured of the straight line.
Half-sliding, half-rolling, we soon reached the bottom of a narrow
valley of gloomy aspect. A feeble brook flowed silently and slowly
among thick reeds, and over its crumbling banks hung a few moss-grown
tree-trunks. The road crossed the stream by a bridge of a single arch,
and, climbing the farther hill, cut a white track across a wide, barren,
and naked _lande_ whose crest stood out sharply against the horizon in
front of us. Near the bridge and close to the road was a ruined hovel.
Its air of desolation struck to the heart. A young, robust man was
splitting wood by the door; his long, fair hair was fastened at the back
by a black ribbon. He raised his head, and I was surprised at the
strange character of his features and at the calm gaze of his blue eyes.
He greeted me in an unknown tongue and with a quiet, soft, and timid
accent. A woman was spinning at the cottage window; the style of her
hair and dress reproduced with theatrical fidelity the images of those
slim chatelaines of stone we see on tombs. These people did not look
like peasants; they had, in the highest degree, that easy, gracious, and
serious air we call distinction. And they had, too, the sad and dreamy
expression often seen among people whose nationality has been destroyed.
I had got down to walk up the hill. The _lande_, which was not
separated from the road, extended all round me as far and farther than I
could see; stunted furze clung to the black earth on every side; here
and there were ravines, clefts, deserted quarries, and low rocks, but no
trees.
Only when I had reached the high ground I saw the distant sombre line of
the heath broken by a more distant strip of the horizon. A little
serrated, blue as the sea and steeped in sunlight, it seemed to open in
the midst of this desolation the sudden vision of some radiant fairy
region. At last I saw Brittany!
I had to engage a carriage to take me the two leagues that separated me
from the end of my journey. During the drive, which was not by any
means a rapid one, I vaguely remember seeing woods, glades, lakes, and
oases of fresh verdure in the valleys; but as we approached the Chateau
Laroque I was besieged by a thousand apprehensions which left no room
for tourist's reflections. In a few minutes I was to enter a strange
family on the footing of a sort of servant in disguise, and in a
position which would barely secure me the consideration and respect of
the lackeys themselves. This was something very new to me. The moment
M. Laubepin proposed this post of bailiff, all my instincts, all my
habits, had risen in violent protest against the peculiar character of
dependence attached to such duties. Nevertheless, I had thought it
impossible to refuse without appearing to slight my old friend's zealous
efforts on my behalf. Moreover, in a less dependent position, I could
not have hoped to obtain for many years the advantages which I should
have here from the outset, and which would enable me to work for my
sister's future without losing time. I had therefore overcome my
repugnance, but it had been very strong, and now revived more strongly
than ever in face of the imminent reality. I had need to study once more
the articles on duty and sacrifice in the moral code that every man
carries in his conscience. At the same time I told myself that there is
no situation, however humble, where personal dignity cannot maintain
itself--and none, in fact, that it cannot ennoble. Then I sketched out a
plan of conduct towards the Laroque family, and promised myself to show
a conscientious zeal for their interests, and, to themselves, a just
deference equally removed from servility and from stiffness. But I
could not conceal from myself that the last part of my task, obviously
the most delicate, would be either greatly simplified or complicated by
the special characters and dispositions of the people with whom I was to
come into contact. Now, M. Laubepin, while recognising that my anxiety
on these personal questions was quite legitimate, had been stubbornly
sparing of information and details on the subject. However, just as I
was starting, he had handed me a private memorandum counselling me at
the same time to throw it in the fire as soon as I had profited by its
contents. This memorandum I took from my portfolio and proceeded to
study its sibylline utterances, which I here reproduce exactly.
"CHATEAU DE LAROQUE (D'ARZ)
"LIST OF PERSONS LIVING AT THE AFORESAID CHATEAU
"1st. M. Laroque (Louis-Auguste), octogenarian, present head of the
family, main source of its wealth: an old sailor, famous under the first
empire as a sort of authorized pirate; appears to have enriched himself
by lawful enterprises of various kinds on the sea; has lived in the
colonies for a long while. Born in Brittany, he returned and settled
there about thirty years since, accompanied by the late Pierre-Antoine
Laroque, his only son, husband of
"2d. Mme. Laroque (Josephine-Clara), daughter-in-law of the
above-mentioned; by origin a Creole; aged forty years; indolent
disposition; romantic temperament; certain whimsies: a beautiful nature.
"3d. Mlle. Laroque (Marguerite-Louise), the grand-daughter, daughter,
and presumptive heiress of the preceding, aged twenty years; Creole and
Bretonne; cherishes certain chimeras; a beautiful nature.
"4th. Mme. Aubry, widow of one Aubry, a stock-broker, who died in
Belgium; a second cousin, lives with the family.
"5th. Mlle. Helouin (Caroline-Gabrielle), aged twenty-six; formerly
governess, now companion; cultivated intellect; character doubtful.
"Burn this."
In spite of its reticence, this document was of some service to me.
Relieved from the dread of the unknown, I felt that my apprehensions had
partly subsided. And if, as M. Laubepin asserted, there were two fine
characters in the Chateau Laroque, it was a higher proportion than one
could have expected to find among five inhabitants.
After a drive of two hours the coachman stopped at a gate flanked by two
lodges.
I left my heavy luggage there, and went towards the chateau, carrying a
valise in one hand, while I used the other to cut off the heads of the
marguerites with my cane. After walking a little distance between rows
of large chestnuts I came to a spacious circular garden, emerging into a
park a little farther on. Right and left I saw deep vistas opening out
between groves already verdant, water flowing under trees, and little
white boats laid up in rustic boat-houses.
Facing me was the chateau, an imposing building in the elegant
half-Italian style of the early years of Louis XIII. At the foot of the
double perron, and under the lofty windows of the facade stretched a
long terrace, which formed a kind of private garden, approached by
several broad, low steps. The gay and sumptuous aspect of this place
caused me a real disappointment, which was not lessened when, as I drew
nearer to the terrace, I heard the noise of young and laughing voices
rising above the distant tinkle of a piano. Plainly I had come to an
abode of pleasure very different from the old and gloomy donjon of my
imaginings. However, the time for reflection had passed. I went quickly
up the steps, and suddenly found myself in the midst of a scene, which
in any other circumstances I should have thought extremely pretty.
On one of the lawns of the flower-garden half a dozen young girls,
linked in couples and laughing at themselves, whirled in a flood of
sunshine, while a piano, touched by a skilful hand, sent the rhythms of
a riotous waltz through an open window.
But I had scarcely had time to note the animated faces of the dancers,
their loosened hair, and large hats flapping on their shoulders. My
sudden appearance had been received with a cry of general alarm,
succeeded by profound silence. The dancing ceased, and all the band
awaited the advance of the stranger in array of battle. But the
stranger had come to a halt with signs of evident embarrassment. Though
for some time past I had scarcely troubled my head about my social
claims, I must confess that at this moment I should gladly have got rid
of my hand-bag. But I had to make the best of the situation. As I
advanced, hat in hand, towards the double staircase leading to the
vestibule of the chateau the piano ceased abruptly. A large
Newfoundland first presented himself at the window, putting his
lion-like head on the cross-bar between his two hairy paws; immediately
after there appeared a tall young girl, whose somewhat sunburnt face and
serious expression were framed in a mass of black and lustrous hair.
Her eyes, which I thought extraordinarily large, examined the scene
outside with nonchalant curiosity.
"Well, what is the matter?" she asked in a quiet tone.
I made her a low bow, and once more cursing the bag which evidently
amused the young ladies, I crossed the perron hastily, and entered the
house.
In the hall a gray-haired servant, dressed in black, took my name. A
few minutes later I was shown into a large drawing-room hung with yellow
silk. There I at once recognised the young lady I had just seen at the
window. She was beyond question remarkably beautiful. By the
fire-place, where a regular furnace was blazing, a lady of middle age
and of marked Creole type of feature, sat buried in a large arm-chair
among a mass of eider-down pillows and cushions of all sizes. Within
her reach stood an antique tripod surmounted by a _brasero_, to which
she frequently held her pale and delicate hands. Near Mme. Laroque sat
a lady knitting, whom I recognised at once by her morose and
disagreeable expression as the second cousin, the widow of the
stock-broker who died in Belgium. Mme. Laroque looked at me as if she
were more than surprised, as if she were astounded. She asked my name
again.
"I beg your pardon ... Monsieur...?"
"Odiot, madame."
"Maxime Odiot--the manager, the steward--that M. Laubepin...?"
"Yes, madame."
"You are quite sure?"