THE DUCHESS.
Madame Barbancon promptly responded to this peremptory summons, and,
after a hasty apology to her employer, said to the waiting servant:
"You have a letter for me? From whom?"
"From the Comtesse de Beaumesnil, madame," replied the man, handing
Madame Barbancon the letter through the lattice.
"Madame la Comtesse de Beaumesnil?" exclaimed the astonished
housekeeper; "I do not know her. I not only don't know her, but I
haven't the slightest idea who she is--not the slightest," the worthy
woman repeated, as she opened the letter.
"The Comtesse de Beaumesnil?" inquired Gerald, evidently much
interested.
"Do you know her?" asked Olivier.
"I met her two or three years ago," replied Gerald. "She was wonderfully
beautiful, then, but the poor woman has not left her bed for a year. I
understand that hers is a hopeless case. Worse still, M. de Beaumesnil,
who had gone to Italy with their only child, a daughter, who was ordered
south by the physicians,--M. de Beaumesnil died quite recently in
Naples, in consequence of having been thrown from his horse, so if
Madame de Beaumesnil dies, as they apprehend, her daughter will be left
an orphan at the age of fifteen or sixteen years."
"Poor child! This is really very sad," said the commander,
sympathisingly.
"Nevertheless, Mlle. de Beaumesnil has a brilliant future before her,"
continued Gerald, "for she will be the richest heiress in France. The
Beaumesnil property yields an income of over three million francs!"
"Three million francs!" exclaimed Olivier, laughing. "Can it be that
there are people who really have an income of three million francs? Do
such people come and go, and move about and talk, just like other
people? I should certainly like to be brought face to face with one of
these wonderful creatures, Gerald."
"I'll do my best to gratify you, but I warn you that as a general thing
they are not pleasant to contemplate. I am not referring to Mlle. de
Beaumesnil, however; she may be as beautiful as her mother."
"I should like very much to know how one can spend such an income as
that," said the commander, in all sincerity, emptying the ashes from his
pipe.
"Great Heavens! is it possible?" exclaimed Madame Barbancon, who, in the
meantime, had read the letter handed to her. "I am to go in a
carriage--in a carriage like that?"
"What is the matter, Mother Barbancon?" inquired the veteran.
"I must ask you to let me go away for a little while."
"Certainly, but where are you going, may I ask?"
"To the house of Madame de Beaumesnil," replied the good woman, in a
very important tone. "She desires some information which I alone can
give, it seems. May I turn Bonapartist if I know what to make of all
this!"
But the next instant the former midwife uttered an exclamation, as if a
new and startling idea had just occurred to her, and, turning to her
employer, she said:
"Monsieur, will you step out into the garden a moment with me? I want to
say a word to you in private."
"Oh," replied the veteran, following the lady out of the arbour, "it is
an important matter, it seems. Go on; I am listening, Madame
Barbancon."
The housekeeper, having led her employer a short distance from the
arbour, turned to him and said, with a mysterious air:
"Monsieur, do you know Madame Herbaut, who lives on the second floor and
has two daughters? The lady to whom I introduced M. Olivier about a
fortnight ago, you recollect."
"I don't know her, but you have often spoken to me about her. Well, what
of it?"
"I recollect now that one of her particular friends, Madame Laine, is
now in Italy, acting as governess to the daughter of a countess whose
name sounds something like Beaumesnil. In fact, it may be this very same
countess."
"It may be, I admit, Mother Barbancon. Well, go on."
"And she may have heard about me through Madame Laine, whom I have met
at Madame Herbaut's."
"That, too, is very possible, Madame Barbancon. You will soon know for a
certainty, however, as you are going to Madame Beaumesnil's."
"_Mon Dieu!_ monsieur, another idea has just occurred to me."
"Let us hear it," said the veteran, with infinite patience.
"I have told you about that masked lady who--"
"You're not going to tell that story again, surely!" cried the
commander, with the evident intention of beating a retreat.
"No, monsieur, but what if all this should have some connection with
that young lady?"
"The quickest way to ascertain, Mother Barbancon, is to get off as soon
as possible. We shall both be the gainers by it."
"You are right, monsieur. I will go at once."
And following her employer, who had returned to his guests in the
arbour, the housekeeper said to the footman, who was still standing a
few feet from the gate:
"Young man, as soon as I can get my bonnet and shawl on I shall be at
your service."
And a few minutes afterwards Madame Barbancon, triumphantly passing the
gate in her carriage, felt that the deference due her employer made it
incumbent upon her to rise to her feet in the vehicle, and bow low to
the commander and his guests.
Just then the clock in a neighbouring church struck seven.
"Seven o'clock!" exclaimed Olivier, evidently much annoyed. "I am very
sorry, my dear Gerald, but I shall have to leave you."
"Already! And why?"
"I promised a worthy mason in the neighbourhood that I would go over his
accounts with him this evening, and you have no idea what a task it is
to straighten out books like his!"
"True, you did warn me that you would only be at liberty until seven
o'clock," replied Gerald. "I had forgotten the fact, I was enjoying my
visit so much."
"Olivier," remarked the veteran, whose spirits seemed to have undergone
a sudden decline since his nephew's allusion to the work to which he
intended to devote his evening, "Olivier, as Madame Barbancon is absent,
will you do me the favour to bring from the cellar the last bottle of
that Cyprian wine I brought from the Levant? M. Gerald must take a glass
of it with us before we separate. The mason's accounts won't suffer if
they do have to wait half an hour."
"An excellent idea, uncle, for I do not have to be as punctual now as if
it were the week before pay-day. I'll get the wine at once. Gerald shall
taste your nectar, uncle."
And Olivier hastened away.
"M. Gerald," began the commander, with no little embarrassment, "it was
not merely to give you a taste of my Cyprian wine that I sent Olivier
away. It was in order that I might be able to speak to you, his best
friend, very plainly in regard to him, and to tell you how kind and
thoughtful and generous he is."
"I know all that, commander. I know it well, but I like to hear it from
your lips,--the lips of one who knows and loves Olivier."
"No, M. Gerald, no, you do not know all. You have no idea of the
arduous, distasteful labour the poor boy imposes upon himself, not only
that he may be no expense to me during his furlough, but that he may be
able to make me little presents now and then, which I dare not refuse
for fear of paining him. This handsome pipe, it was he who gave it to
me. I am very fond of roses. He has just presented me with two superb
new varieties. I had long wanted a big easy chair, for when my wounds
reopen, which happens only too often, I am sometimes obliged to sit up
several nights in succession. But a large armchair cost too much. Still,
about a week ago, what should I see some men bringing in but that much
desired article of furniture! I might have known it, for Olivier had
spent I don't know how many nights in copying documents. Excuse these
confidential disclosures on the part of poor but honest people, M.
Gerald," said the old sailor, in a voice that trembled with emotion,
while a tear stole down his cheek, "but my heart is full. I must open it
to some one, and it is a twofold pleasure to be able to tell all this to
you."
Gerald seemed about to speak, but the commander interrupted him.
"Pardon me, M. Gerald, you will think me too garrulous, I fear, but
Olivier will be here in a minute, and I have a favour to ask of you. By
reason of your exalted position, you must have many grand acquaintances,
M. Gerald. My poor Olivier has no influence, and yet his services, his
education, and his conduct alike entitle him to promotion. But he has
never been willing, or he has never dared to approach any of his
superiors on this subject. I can understand it, for if I had been a
'hustler'--as you call it--I should hold a much higher rank to-day. It
seems to be a family failing. Olivier is like me. We both do our best,
but when it is a question of asking favours our tongues cleave to the
roof of our mouths, and we're ashamed to look anybody in the face. But
take care! Here comes Olivier," hastily exclaimed the old sailor,
picking up his pipe and beginning to puff at it with all his might; "try
to look unconcerned, M. Gerald, for heaven's sake try to look
unconcerned, or Olivier will suspect something."
"Olivier must be a lieutenant before his leave expires, commander, and I
believe he will be," said Gerald, deeply touched by these revelations on
the part of the veteran. "I have very little influence myself, but I
will speak to the Marquis de Maillefort. His word carries great weight
everywhere, and strongly urged by him, Olivier's promotion--which is
only just and right--is assured. I will attend to the matter. You need
give yourself no further anxiety on the subject."
"Ah, M. Gerald, I was not mistaken in you, I see," said the commander,
hurriedly. "You are kind as a brother to my poor boy--but here he
is--don't let him suspect anything."
And the good man began to smoke his pipe with the most unconcerned air
imaginable, though he was obliged furtively to dash a tear from out the
corner of his eye, while Gerald to divert his former comrade's
suspicions still more effectually, cried:
"So you've got here at last, slow-coach! I'm strongly inclined to think
you must have fallen in with some pretty barmaid like that handsome
Jewess at Oran. Do you remember her, you gay Lothario?"
"She was a beauty, that's a fact," replied the young soldier, smiling at
the recollection thus evoked, "but she couldn't hold a candle to the
young girl I just met in the courtyard," replied Olivier, setting the
dusty bottle of Cyprian wine carefully on the table.
"Ah, your prolonged stay is easily explained now!" retorted Gerald.
"Just hear the coxcomb," chimed in the veteran. "And who is this
beauty?"
"Yes, yes, do give us the particulars of your conquest."
"She would suit you wonderfully well, M. le duc," laughed Olivier,
"wonderfully well, for she is a duchess."
"A duchess?" queried Gerald.
"A duchess here!" exclaimed the commander. "The locality is indeed
honoured, to-day. This is something new."
"I was only trying to gratify your vanity a little,--the vanity of a
Batignollais, you know. My conquest, as that harebrained Gerald is
pleased to call it, is no conquest at all; besides, the lady in question
is not really a duchess, though people call her so."
"And why, pray?" inquired Gerald.
"Because they say she is as proud and beautiful as any duchess."
"But who is she? In my character of duke, my curiosity on this point
should be gratified," insisted Gerald.
"She is a music teacher," replied Olivier. "She is degrading herself
terribly, you see."
"Say rather the piano is becoming ennobled by the touch of her taper
fingers,--for she must have the hands of a duchess, of course. Come now,
tell us all about it. If you're in love, whom should you take into your
confidence if not your uncle and your former comrade?"
"I sincerely wish I had the right to take you into my confidence," said
Olivier, laughing; "but to tell the truth, this is the first time I ever
saw the young girl."
"But tell us all you know about her."
"There is a Madame Herbaut who has rooms on the second floor of the
house," replied Olivier, "and every Sunday this excellent woman invites
a number of young girls, friends of her daughters, to spend the evening
with her. Some are bookkeepers or shop girls, others are drawing
teachers, or music teachers, like the duchess. There are several very
charming girls among them, I assure you, though they work hard all day
to earn an honest living. And how intensely they enjoy their Sunday with
kind Madame Herbaut! They play games, and dance to the music of the
piano. It is very amusing to watch them, and twice when Madame Barbancon
took me up to Madame Herbaut's rooms--"
"I demand an introduction to Madame Herbaut,--an immediate introduction,
do you hear?" cried the young duke.
"You demand--you demand. So you think you have only to ask, I suppose,"
retorted Olivier, gaily. "Understand, once for all, that the Batignolles
are quite as exclusive as the Faubourg St. Germain."
"Ah, you are jealous! You make a great mistake, though, for real or
supposed duchesses have very little charm for me. One doesn't come to
the Batignolles to fall in love with a duchess, so you need have no
fears on that score; besides, if you refuse my request, I'm on the best
possible terms with Mother Barbancon, and I'll ask her to introduce me
to Madame Herbaut."
"Try it, and see if you succeed in securing admittance," responded
Olivier, with a laughable air of importance. "But to return to the
subject of the duchess," he continued, "Madame Herbaut, who is evidently
devoted to her, remarked to me the other day, when I was going into
ecstasies over this company of charming young girls: 'Ah, what would you
say if you could see the duchess? Unfortunately, she has failed us these
last two Sundays, and we miss her terribly, for all the other girls
simply worship her; but some time ago she was summoned to the bedside of
a very wealthy lady who is extremely ill, and whose sufferings are so
intense, as well as so peculiar in character, that her physician, at
his wit's end, conceived the idea that soft and gentle music might
assuage her agony at least to some extent.'"
"How singular!" exclaimed Gerald. "This invalid, whose sufferings they
are endeavouring to mitigate in every conceivable way, and to whom your
duchess must have been summoned, is Madame la Comtesse de Beaumesnil."
"The same lady who just sent for Madame Barbancon?" inquired the
veteran.
"Yes, monsieur, for I had heard before of this musical remedy resorted
to in the hope of assuaging that lady's terrible sufferings."
"A strange idea," said Olivier, "but one that has not proved entirely
futile, I should judge, as the duchess, who is a fine musician, goes to
the house of Madame de Beaumesnil every evening. That is the reason I
did not see her at either of Madame Herbaut's soirees. She had just been
calling on that lady, probably, when I met her just now. Struck by her
regal bearing and her extraordinary beauty, I asked the porter if he
knew who she was. 'It was the duchess I'm sure, M. Olivier,' he
answered."
"This is all very interesting and charming, but it is rather too
melancholy to suit my taste," said Gerald. "I prefer those pretty and
lively girls who grace Madame Herbaut's entertainments. If you don't
take me to one, you're an ingrate. Remember that pretty shop-girl in
Algiers, who had an equally pretty sister!"
"What!" exclaimed the veteran, "I thought you were talking a moment ago
of a pretty Jewess at Oran!"
"But, uncle, when one is at Oran one's sweetheart is at Oran. When one
is at Algiers, one's sweetheart is there."
"So you're trying to outdo Don Juan, you naughty boy!" cried the
veteran, evidently much flattered by his nephew's popularity with the
fair sex.
"But what else could you expect, commander?" asked Gerald. "It is not a
matter of inconstancy, you see, but simply of following one's regiment,
that is all. That is the reason Olivier and I were obliged to desert the
beauties of Oran for the pretty shop-girls of Algiers."
"Just as a change of station compelled us to desert the bronze-cheeked
maidens of Martinique for the fisher maids of St. Pierre Miquelon,"
remarked the old sailor, who was becoming rather lively under the
influence of the Cyprian wine which had been circulating freely during
the conversation.
"A very sudden change of zone, commander," remarked Gerald, nudging the
veteran with his elbow. "It must have been leaving fire for ice."
"No, no, you're very much mistaken there," protested the veteran,
vehemently. "I don't know what to make of it, but those fisher maidens,
fair as albinos, had the very deuce in them. There was one little
roly-poly with white lashes, particularly, whom they called the
Whaler--"
"About the temperature of Senegambia, eh, uncle?"
"I should say so," ejaculated the veteran. And as he replaced his glass
upon the table, he made a clucking sound with his tongue, but it was
hard to say whether this significant sound had reference to his
recollection of the fair Whaler or to the pleasant flavour of the
Cyprian wine. Then suddenly recollecting himself, the worthy man
exclaimed:
"Well, well, what am I thinking of? It ill becomes an old fellow like me
to be talking on such subjects to youths like you! Go on, talk of your
Jewesses and your duchesses as much as you please, boys. It suits your
years."
"Very well, then, I insist that Olivier shall take me to Madame
Herbaut's," said the persistent Gerald.
"See the result of satiety. You go in the most fashionable and
aristocratic society, and yet envy us our poor little Batignollais
entertainments."
"Fashionable society is not at all amusing," said Gerald. "I frequent it
merely to please my mother. To-morrow, for example, will be a
particularly trying day to me, for my mother gives an afternoon dance.
By the way, why can't you come, Olivier?"
"Come where?"
"Why, to this dance my mother gives."
"I?"
"Yes, you! Why not?"
"I, Olivier Raymond, a private in the hussars, attend a dance given in
the Faubourg St. Germain!"
"It would be very strange if I could not take my dearest friend to my
mother's house merely because he has the honour to be one of the bravest
soldiers in the French army. Olivier, you must come. I insist upon it."
"In jacket and kepi, I suppose," said Olivier, smilingly, referring to
his poverty, which did not permit him to indulge in citizen's clothing.
Knowing how this worthy fellow spent the proceeds of his arduous toil,
and knowing, too, his extreme sensitiveness in money matters, Gerald
could only say in reply:
"True, I did not think of that. It is a pity, for we might have had a
very pleasant time together. I could have shown you some of our
fashionable beauties, though I feel sure that, so far as young and
pretty faces are concerned, Madame Herbaut's entertainments have the
advantage."
"Do you see, uncle, how cleverly he returns to the charge?"
The clock in the neighbouring steeple struck eight.
"Eight o'clock!" cried Olivier. "The deuce! My master mason has been
waiting for me for an hour. I've got to go, Gerald. I promised to be
punctual,--an hour late is a good deal. Good night, uncle."
"You're going to work half the night, again," remarked the veteran,
casting a meaning look at Gerald. "I shall wait up for you, though."
"No, no, uncle, go to bed. Tell Madame Barbancon to leave the key with
the porter, and some matches in the kitchen. I won't wake you, I'll come
in quietly."
"Good-bye, M. Gerald," said the veteran, taking the young duke's hand,
and pressing it in a very significant manner, as if to remind him of his
promise in regard to Olivier's promotion.
"Good-bye, commander," said Gerald, returning the pressure, and
indicating by a gesture that he read the veteran's thought. "You will
permit me to come and see you again, will you not?"
"It would give me great pleasure, you may be sure of that, M. Gerald."
"Yes, commander, for I judge you by myself. Good-bye. Come, Olivier, I
will accompany you to the door of your master mason."
"I shall have the pleasure of your company a quarter of an hour longer,
then. Good night, uncle."
"Good night, my dear boy."
And Olivier, taking up his bundle of papers and pens, left the house arm
in arm with Gerald. At the master mason's door they separated, promising
to see each other again at an early day.
About an hour after Olivier left his uncle, Madame Barbancon was brought
back to the Batignolles in Madame de Beaumesnil's carriage.
The veteran, amazed at the silence of his housekeeper, and at the gloomy
expression of her face, addressed her several times in vain, and finally
begged her to help herself to the small portion of Cyprian wine that
remained. Madame Barbancon took the bottle and started towards the door,
then stopped short and crossed her arms with a meditative air, a
movement that caused the wine-bottle to fall with a crash upon the
floor.
"The deuce take you!" cried the veteran. "Look at the Cyprian wine
you've wasted."
"True, I've broken the bottle," replied the housekeeper, with the air of
a person just waking from a dream. "It is not surprising. Since I saw
and heard Madame la Comtesse de Beaumesnil,--for I have just seen her,
and in such a pitiable state, poor woman!--I have been racking my brain
to remember something I can not remember, and I know very well that I
shall be absolutely good for nothing for a long time."
"It is a good thing to know this in advance," replied the veteran, with
his usual placidity of manner on seeing Madame Barbancon again relapse
into a deeply preoccupied frame of mind.