The letter which arrived at Poissy came with all the force of a shock to
Mme. de Beaudrillart and her daughters. It was true that they were well
aware that an evil menaced, but it appeared inconceivable that it should
have arrived. Leon had assured them that something would turn up; he
was confident that Paris must offer a means of evading the worst, and,
indeed, in all that he had said had temporised, excused himself, and
hinted at unforeseen misfortune. M. Georges, indeed, had spoken more
plainly to Mlle. Claire, but his words had been indignantly scouted by
Mme. de Beaudrillart. Even now, when Leon had taken refuge in a letter
which might break the worst in his absence, and spare him the pain of
seeing, not reproachful looks, but tears, they refused to face the crash
as inevitable. That the De Beaudrillart home should pass from the De
Beaudrillarts was absolutely out of the question. That Leon's
extravagance had brought about even threat of such disaster immediately
required extenuating words, and a laying of blame on any shoulders
except his. Of the three, Claire was the only one who permitted a tinge
of bitterness to creep, now and then, into her words.
"My poor boy!" cried Mme. de Beaudrillart, with tears in her eyes; "if
this is hard for us, what must he not have suffered? Of course the
affair will arrange itself somehow--Heaven forbid that I should be so
faithless as to doubt it!--but the annoyance, the anxiety! Well, it is
only another proof, if proof were wanted, of the incompetency of that
Monsieur Georges. If Leon had not been so tender-hearted he would have
sent him away long ago."
"I wonder if it would have really made any difference?" remarked
Felicie, her eldest daughter, looking up from the altar-linen she was
embroidering. She was near-sighted, and had to stoop very much to bring
her work within range of her eyes, but she would not be persuaded to
wear spectacles.
"We should remember, however, that Monsieur Georges constantly implored
Leon to pay a closer attention to his affairs. I must say, I think it
is unjust to blame the poor man," said Claire, sharply.
"Then you must blame your brother, which would be far more unjust," said
her mother, with decision. "For what is an intendant engaged? Until
this moment, I have always been under the impression it was that he
might look after the estates, and avert the possibility of such a
humiliating position as that in which our poor Leon now finds himself."
"It is certain that Leon must have been terribly extravagant," persisted
Mlle. Claire.
"Oh, extravagant, extravagant!--I dare say. How can you, a woman, with
every want provided for, and with absolutely no temptation to spend
money--how can you possibly judge of the difficulties of a young man in
Paris? A young man, too, such as Leon, impulsive, generous,
attractive." Claire agreed. "Yes, he is very attractive."
"And very generous," added Felicie, looking up again, and holding her
needle in the air. "When I spoke to him the other day about the
pilgrimage, he told me we might count on him for fifty francs. Now
Madame de Montbreuil assured me with tears that her husband would give
no more than twenty."
"Ah, and it is that generosity of his of which people take advantage,"
said his mother. "If we knew all the truth, which you may be sure he
will never permit us to learn, I am certain we should find some
kind-hearted action at the bottom of this trouble. He has come to the
rescue of a friend, or helped a poor struggling creature, and been
dragged in himself, poor fellow! As for the old count, I shall never
forgive him. He must have guessed how disagreeable it was to Leon to be
forced to apply to him for assistance; and after his indebtedness to
your father, the least, the very least he could do, was to have helped
him liberally, and to have rejoiced at the opportunity."
Mme. de Beaudrillart had a white face, an aquiline nose, and pinched
lips--the features of a shrewd woman who would hold her own. She had
little compassion for shortcomings, and never failed to point them out--
perhaps to compensate for her blind adulation of her son. A large
photograph of him stood on the table; she took it up, and carried it to
the window, gazing at it fondly.
"I suppose it is difficult for such a boy as Leon to avoid spending
money in a place with so many temptations as Paris," Claire remarked, in
a low tone. She was like her mother, but her face was more sallow and
sharper.
"I don't like you to speak as if this trouble were poor Leon's fault,"
said Felicie, in her thin, gentle voice.
Claire began to laugh.
"Whose, then? Yours or mine? I have not spent a penny for a month, so
I cannot feel that I am responsible; and though you are disposed to be
extravagant for the Church--"
"That is only one's duty."
"As you like, ma chere. I was going to add that you had no money to
give, so that we can hardly lay our ruin at your door. Who is there but
Leon?"
"Our mother thinks he has met with some misfortune."
"Bah!" said Claire, under her breath. "It is no misfortune. I love
Leon as well as you love him, but I can see his faults. He is no saint.
This is his doing, and his only. He has squandered his money, and in
bad ways."
"What bad ways?" asked her sister, with wide-open eyes. "If I were to
tell you, you would be shocked."
"You can't know!"
"Do I not? Leon is horribly careless, and if you were to see some of
the photographs and letters he leaves scattered about his room, you
would acknowledge that I know what I am talking about."
Felicie thrust her fingers into her ears, and a flush rose in her thin
cheek.
"Hush, hush, Claire!" she cried. "It is a sin to speak of such things!
It is a sin even to listen to you!"
"Oh, I mean to be vielle fille, and privileged," said Claire, with a
laugh. "I could not go about the world with my eyes shut, as you do.
Do you really believe it to be rose-coloured?"
Mme. de Beaudrillart crossed the room from the window, where she had
been standing.
"What are you talking about, children?" she demanded.
"Claire says such things," murmured Felicie, resuming her work. "It is
shocking!"
"Felicie is a baby," remarked the younger sister, contemptuously.
"Hush, hush! I have often desired you, Claire, to be more careful in
what you repeat before your sister. And I am surprised you can think of
anything but this anxiety of poor Leon's. I have been turning the
matter over and over."
"Have you decided on anything?"
"I will tell you. Of course, what he appears to dread cannot happen.
It is impossible to conceive the idea of Poissy passing from the
family."
"Impossible!" Claire repeated the word with emphasis.
"But it is our duty to make all the sacrifices we can. We must
economise more strictly."
"Oh, certainly, mamma," said Felicie, cheerfully. "If you remember, in
the last address which we had from the abbe, he counselled us to cast
away superfluous luxuries. And here is our opportunity. It seems quite
a coincidence."
Mme. de Beaudrillart nodded, waiting for her other daughter to speak.
Claire lifted her head and glanced round the room.
"I wish the coincidence had not arrived," she said. "I am ready to do
anything that is suggested; but I own I hardly see what we have which
can be called superfluous." Her mother folded her thin white hands in
her lap.
"We must do with fewer servants," she said.
"I suppose so," Claire assented, doubtfully. "Which will you dismiss?
Francois is the least necessary."
"To us, but not to Leon. No; I have been reflecting, and I believe we
can dispense with Rose-Marie. You are both active, and I, I thank
Heaven, not yet infirm, so that between us, with old Nanon and Jacques
Charpentier to help, we shall very well be able to manage the
house-work."
"Mamma," gasped Felicie, with anguish in her voice, "I have just
remembered the most terrible thing!"
"What, then?"
"I told you just now that Leon promised me fifty francs for our
pilgrimage."
"Well, he cannot give it," said Claire, hastily.
"But consider! The money is already consecrated--"
"How!"
"Oh, in his own mind; and they have even told his Grandeur. If he
withdraws the offer, will it not be sacrilege?"
"Whatever it may be," her sister declared, "I am certain you will not
see your fifty francs."
"Oh, Claire, don't say so! It is the most terrible position! A promise
to the Church is as sacred as a vow--it must be kept, at whatever cost;
and if Leon withdraws it, I shall never again have a moment's peace! I
am ready to make any sacrifices, but this is too unendurable!"
It was quite true that she was shaken by the mere possibility--far more
shaken than she had been by the news the post had brought. She began
her lament again, almost in tears: "It would be a sin."
"If Leon has not the money, how can he give it?" demanded her sister,
looking at her with pitying scorn. She accepted the fact that Felicie,
being devote, must be allowed to go certain lengths; but she thought her
eagerness childish, and turned to her mother. "What else can we think
of? It is so difficult to economise when already we have cut down our
expenses to their very lowest."
"Not quite to their lowest. We must counter-order my winter cloak and
your dresses. Write to Tours at once, Claire."
"Your cloak!" repeated her daughter, depreciatingly. "Is that
necessary? You suffer so much from the cold, and the old one is so
thin!"
"It cannot be helped." Mme. de Beaudrillart spoke with sharp
impatience. "I am quite aware of what you say; but if Monsieur Georges
and the other men have ruined Leon, we must take our share in his
suffering."
"Poor Monsieur Georges! I really believe he did his utmost for the
property."
"Do not talk of what you do not understand," said her mother, coldly.
"What do you know about business matters? You might judge from the
results."
Claire, however, persisted.
"I am certain he was not dishonest."
"If he was not dishonest, he was a fool, which is as dangerous."
"Shall you write to our poor Leon to-day, mamma?" asked Felicie, turning
tear-laden eyes towards her.
"Certainly. He will expect it. Dear fellow, I shall tell him that we
are ready to make every possible effort, every sacrifice, and implore
him not to afflict himself, because there can be no doubt that something
will be arranged."
"But you will not say anything against the pilgrimage?"
"Felicie, you are too foolish with your pilgrimages!" Claire was
beginning, impatiently, when Mme. de Beaudrillart stopped her.
"Do not vex your sister. It is very certain that we want all the
prayers and the help we can have, and perhaps--" Suddenly she flung up
her hands and clasped her head. "Oh, Leon, my poor Leon! To lose
Poissy!"
This little action in one hitherto so confident gave her daughters a
shock; they seemed for the first time to realise the full force of the
disaster hanging over their family, and to comprehend that it was close
at hand. Claire stood up right, her face hard and set; Felicie pushed
away her embroidery-frame, and broke into sobs. But the next moment
Mme. de Beaudrillart's strong will reasserted itself, and she lifted her
head rigidly.
"This is weak," she said. "Felicie, go on with your work. Claire, send
Rose-Marie to my room, and see whether Pierre has called for the
letters. Do not on any account allow him to leave without mine."
All that day the sisters talked together; if without much sympathy, yet
with that certain amount which a close tie of relationship must bring in
such a crisis. Their mother remained absolutely silent. She took up
one thing after another, and laid each down with restless unquiet; more
than once walked without apparent purpose to the window, and stood
mutely looking out. Poissy had never been fuller of charm. Young
spring was at work beautifying the old chateau; a sweet, clear sunlight
fell upon the delicate turret, and flung light shadows along the open
stone-work with which it was fretted. Over a doorway was carved the
Beaudrillart escutcheon, and a slender tuft of grass waved audaciously
from a crevice above. If, as she looked, there was agony in Mme. de
Beaudrillart's heart, she made no sign. Only Claire noticed how tightly
her hands were locked together and her lips compressed; but even Claire,
whose feelings most resembled hers, dared not touch again upon the
subject near all their hearts, although there was more than one question
which she longed to have answered. Visitors came, and she received them
as usual--even talking undauntedly of certain improvements which her son
contemplated making about the chateau.
"Monsieur de Beaudrillart does not, however, spend much time here?"
asked one lady, curiously. Like others in the neighbourhood, she had
heard rumours, and her visit was in a great measure due to a desire to
know how much was true. "Apparently he finds it dull?"
"I hope we may see more of him in the future," returned the mother,
looking at her without shrinking.
"I am glad of it; he is always so pleasant! What can we do to keep him?
I said to my husband that his family should persuade him to marry, for
nowadays there are always plenty of girls going about with really fine
fortunes; and he need not be particular as to family," she added, with a
laugh. "He, if any one, could afford a roturier for his father-in-law."
"I agree with you," said Mme. de Beaudrillart, calmly; "but I am afraid
that a fortune has no attraction for Leon. He is unlike other young
men, for he was born with romantic ideas, and I, for one, cannot wish it
to be otherwise."
"She could hardly have been so cool if all we have heard is true," said
Mme. de la Ferraye to her husband, as they drove away. "She talked of
his return, and even of improvements to the estate. I cannot believe
the rumour. It is incredible!"
"She is a strong woman; but it is true, for all that."
"Then what _can_ he do? He is not the man to be chosen for any public
appointment."
"No. He is clever enough, but his education has taught him nothing
beyond the classics, and he has no habits of industry."
Mme. de la Ferraye shrugged her pretty shoulders.
"As I told his mother, he must marry--there is nothing else for it. Let
us find him a wife, Gaspard, though, Heaven knows, I pity the poor girl
who has that will of iron for a mother-in-law!"
"Or Leon de Beaudrillart for a husband."
"No, no; now you are too hard, and you will never get me to agree with
you. There is something so fascinating and charming about him, that I
am convinced he would make his wife very happy."
"If she were content to keep her eyes shut."
"Well, she would be. Trust me, Gaspard, Leon's wife, whoever she was,
would believe nothing against him."
"In that case--"
While the La Ferrayes were taking leave, Mme. de Beaudrillart stood
rigidly unbending; but as soon as they were gone she hurriedly left the
room.
"Poor mamma!" cried Felicie, her eyes filling with ready tears.
"That woman came from curiosity," Claire said, pacing up and down
indignantly; "she has heard something, and meant to worm it out of us.
It is too horrible that Leon's affairs should be the common gossip of
the country!"
"Claire," faltered her sister.
"Well?"
"Do you--do you think it even possible that we might have to--to leave
Poissy?"
"Monsieur Georges feared it long ago. But I cannot believe it," said
Claire, clinching her hands. "Poissy without a Beaudrillart! No--it
will not be permitted!"
"Heaven will not interfere if Leon fails in his promises to the Church,"
sobbed Felicie. With her the family will, not so openly apparent, took
refuge in a gentle obstinacy, which was perhaps more irritating. "I
believe these misfortunes are sent as a chastisement for my having
listened to you, and not left the world when Pere Roget spoke to me
about it. I am certain that I had a vocation, and then what might I not
have gained for Leon! I wonder where we shall live? In Tours? Imagine
losing the Abbe Nisard as one's director!"
"Oh, be quiet, Felicie, or you will drive me mad! How can you think,
how can you talk, of these horrible possibilities? Something must be
done. If only I were a man!"
"Why?" asked her sister, opening her eyes.
"Because I would work, fight, starve!"
She walked swiftly up and down the room like some caged creature.
"Leon is a man, and it doesn't seem that he can do anything."
"No, but _I_ would!" cried Claire, flinging back her head. "If I could
only be out in the world, you would see that I should not allow myself
to be beaten!"
Felicie shuddered.
"That terrible world. I give constant thanks that I am not forced into
it. It is wicked of you, Claire, even to wish to be there; for what
would become of you in all its temptations?"
"I should get through them somehow, like other people, I suppose," said
the younger sister, recklessly. "You and I are different, Felicie. I
do not profess to be devote. All your good little fripperies would
weary me--oh, weary me to death! I could not ask permission from the
abbe as to every book I read, almost as to every word I spoke, nor,
though there is time enough on one's hands, Heaven knows, spend it in
collecting money from the peasants, or in working banners. I should
hate a convent, unless--perhaps--I were Mother Superior."
"Yes, we are different," Felicie placidly agreed. "I am happy to be
directed."
Claire looked at her with a short laugh.
"And yet, my dear, you like your own way, and generally get it."
Felicie took no notice of the criticism, merely remarking, with a sigh:
"Without Rose-Marie we shall have a great deal to do, and I only hope my
other duties will not suffer. I shall draw up a little paper and
arrange my time. Poor Rose-Marie! What a grief for her!"
"For her! A servant! Do you understand what lies before us--us
Beaudrillarts?"
Claire's tone was tense and sharp. Felicie sighed again and cried a
little, taking care not to drop a tear upon her work. She had charge of
the ecclesiastical vestments of the parish, and was almost as proud of
them as of the Beaudrillart blood.
The next day all was joy at Poissy. Leon wrote briefly, merely saying
that he had managed to raise the full sum of money by a loan. He would
thus be able to consolidate his debts, and have one creditor in place of
many.
"It is true,"--this was what he wrote--"that the loan must be repaid,
but for this purpose look forward, dear mother, to a change in all my
habits. I am going to renounce wandering, and to spend my time at
Poissy, cease to play the fool, farm, economise, reform--Heaven knows
what admirable paths do not stretch themselves before me! You will make
them so charming that I shall not regret Paris, and I shall be so
changed that you will forget your troublesome son, and fall in love with
a new, a whitewashed, Leon, at whom, if only the past is merciful, no
one will dare fling a stone."
"Ah, my dear one!" cried Mme. de Beaudrillart, passionately kissing the
letter.
"Tell Felicie I mean to redeem my promise, and she shall have a hundred
francs instead of fifty for her do--" If he had been going to write
dolls, he scratched out the irreverent word and substituted
"decorations. I return to-morrow, or so I hope; but, come what may,
rejoice, dear mother, that Poissy is spared to us."
If there were one or two slightly enigmatical expressions in his letter,
the mother did not notice them; nor even to her daughters did she show
outward signs of exultation. She announced the change to them by
saying, calmly:
"It is as I expected: Leon has arranged matters; but we must still
economise strictly."
Felicie went about with clasped hands and a radiant face, enchanted with
her hundred francs. Claire's features seemed to have grown a little
sharper, and her voice more haughty, that was all; and so the cloud
rolled off.
Leon came home. He looked ill; but, then, as Mme. de Beaudrillart said,
he had been sadly harassed. She was a little disappointed that he did
not communicate more particulars of the interview with M. de Cadanet,
for on this point, although he generally talked very freely, he was
reticent.
After all, as she told herself, what did it matter?