AN INCOMPREHENSIBLE REFUSAL.
On the morning of the same day on which the foregoing conversation
between Abbe Ledoux and M. de Macreuse took place, Madame la Duchesse de
Senneterre, having received an important letter, went out at ten
o'clock, as usual. On her return, at half past eleven, she immediately
asked for her son Gerald; but that young gentleman's valet reported to
madame's maid that M. le duc had not slept at home the night before.
About noon there came another and very peremptory message from the
duchess, but her son had not yet returned. At last, about half past
twelve, Gerald entered his mother's room, and was about to embrace her
with affectionate gaiety, when the duchess, pushing him away, said,
reproachfully:
"This is the third time I have sent for you, my son."
"I have but just returned home, and here I am! What do you wish, my dear
mother?"
"You have but just returned home at this hour? What scandalous
behaviour!"
"What scandalous behaviour?"
"Listen to me, my son: there are some things I will not discuss; but do
not mistake my aversion to speaking of them for either tolerance or
blindness."
"My dear mother," said Gerald, firmly, but deferentially, "you have
always found me, and you will always find me, the most affectionate and
respectful of sons; and it is hardly necessary for me to add that my
name, which is also yours, shall be always and everywhere honoured and
worthy of honour. But what else can you expect? I am twenty-four, and I
live and amuse myself like a man of twenty-four."
"But, Gerald, you know that the life you are leading has troubled me
very much for a long time, both on your account and my own. You shun
society, though your name and talents entitle you to a distinguished
place in its ranks, and you keep very bad company."
"Well, so far as women are concerned, I am forced to say that what you
call bad company is the best, in my opinion. Come, come, mother, don't
be angry! You know I'm still a soldier, so far as plain speaking is
concerned. I consequently admit that I have a slight weakness for pretty
girls in the lower walks of life. So far as men are concerned, I have
friends of whom any man might be proud; but one of the dearest among
them is a former soldier in my regiment. If you knew him, mother, you
would have a better opinion of me," added Gerald, smiling, "for you
judge a man by his friends, you know."
"Is there anybody in the world but you who chooses his intimate friends
from among common soldiers?" exclaimed the duchess, shrugging her
shoulders disdainfully.
"I think so, my dear mother, though it isn't everybody who has a chance
to select his friends on the battle-field."
"But I am not talking of your relations with men, my son, I am
reproaching you for compromising yourself as you do with those common
girls."
"But they are so amusing."
"My son!"
"Pardon me, my dear mother," said Gerald, kissing his mother in spite of
her strenuous efforts to prevent it. "I was wrong, yes, I was wrong. The
truth is, though,--but, oh, dear! what shall I say? I don't want to
horrify you again--but really, mother, vestal virgins are not to my
taste, and you surely wouldn't like to see me carrying ruin and
desolation into happy households, would you, mother?" he continued, in
half tragic tones. "Besides, the truth is,--for virtue's sake,
perhaps,--I like girls of the people better. The sanctity of marriage
isn't outraged, you see, and then, as I said before, they're infinitely
more amusing."
"You will excuse me from expressing any opinion on your choice of
mistresses," retorted the duchess, angrily; "but it is certainly my duty
to censure in the severest manner the strange frivolity of your conduct.
You do not realise how you are injuring yourself."
"In what way?"
"Do you suppose that if the question of a marriage was broached--"
"A marriage?" cried Gerald; "but I've no intention of marrying, not the
slightest."
"You will do me the favour to listen to me, I hope."
"I am listening."
"You know Madame de Mirecourt?"
"Yes; but fortunately she is married, so you can't offer me to her. I'm
glad of it, for she's the worst plotter and schemer on earth."
"Possibly she is, but she is an intimate friend of Madame de la
Rochaigue, who is also one of my friends."
"How long since, may I ask? Haven't I often heard you say that that
woman was the very personification of meanness?"
"That is neither here nor there," said the duchess, hastily interrupting
him, "Madame de la Rochaigue has now for a ward Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the
richest heiress in France."
"Who is now in Italy."
"Who is now in Paris."
"She has returned?"
"Yes, last evening; and this morning, at ten o'clock, I had a long and
very satisfactory interview with Madame de Rochaigue at Madame de
Mirecourt's house. I have been devoting my time and attention to a
certain matter for nearly a month, but knowing your habitual levity, I
would not say a word about it to you. Fortunately, everything has been
kept such a close secret between Madame de la Rochaigue, Madame de
Mirecourt, and myself, that we are very hopeful--"
"Hopeful of what?"
"Why, of bringing about a marriage between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and
yourself."
"A marriage!" cried Gerald, bounding out of his chair.
"Yes, a marriage--with the richest heiress in France," replied Madame de
Senneterre.
Then, without making any effort to conceal her uneasiness, she
continued:
"If it were not for your conduct, we should have every chance in our
favour, though suitors and rivals will soon be pouring in on every side.
There will be a hard struggle for the prize, and Heaven knows even the
truth will be terribly damaging to you. Ah, if with your name, your
talents, and your face you were a model of virtue and propriety like
that excellent M. de Macreuse, for example--"
"But are you really thinking seriously of this marriage, mother?" asked
Gerald, more and more astonished.
"Am I thinking of it seriously? You ask me that?"
"My dear mother, I am infinitely grateful to you for your kind
intentions, but I repeat that I have no desire to marry."
"What is that you say?"
"I say, my dear mother, that I have no intention of marrying anybody."
"_Mon Dieu!_ he is mad!" cried Madame de Senneterre. "He refuses the
richest heiress in France!"
"Listen, mother," said Gerald, gravely, but tenderly; "I am an honest
man, and being such, I confess that I love pleasure above all things,
consequently I should make a detestable husband, even for the richest
heiress in France."
"A colossal fortune--an unheard-of fortune!" faltered Madame de
Senneterre, stupefied by this refusal on the part of her son. "An income
of over three million francs! Think of it!"
"But I love pleasure and my liberty more!"
"What you say is abominable!" cried Madame de Senneterre, almost beside
herself. "Why, you are an idiot, and worse than an idiot!"
"But, my dear mother, I love independence, and gay suppers and good
times, generally,--in short, the life of a bachelor. I still have six
years of such joyous existence before me, and I wouldn't sacrifice them
for all the money in the world; besides," added Gerald, more seriously,
"I really couldn't be mean enough to make a poor girl I had married for
her money as miserable as she was ridiculous. Besides, mother, you know
very well that I absolutely refused to buy a substitute to go and be
killed in my stead, so you can not wonder that I refuse to sell myself
for any woman's millions."
"But, my son--"
"My dear mother, it is just this. Your M. de Macreuse,--and if you
really have any regard for him, don't hold him up to me again as a
model, or I shall break all the canes I possess over his back,--your M.
de Macreuse, who is so devout, would probably not have the same scruples
that I, a mere pagan, have. But such as I am, such I shall remain, and
love you even more than ever, my dear mother," added Gerald, kissing the
hand of the duchess respectfully.
There are strange coincidences in this life of ours.
Gerald had scarcely uttered M. de Macreuse's name before a servant
rapped at the door, and, on being told to enter, announced that M. de
Macreuse wished to see the duchess in regard to a very important matter.
"Did you tell him that I was at home?" asked Madame de Senneterre.
"Madame la duchesse gave no order to the contrary."
"Very well,--ask M. de Macreuse to wait a moment."
Then turning to her son, she said, no longer with severity, but with
deep sadness:
"Your incomprehensible refusal grieves and disappoints me more than I
can express, so I beg and implore that you will remain here. I will
return almost immediately. Ah, my son, my dear son, you can not imagine
the terrible chagrin you are causing me."
"Pray, mother, do not say that," pleaded Gerald, touched by his mother's
grief. "You know how much I love you."
"You are always saying that, Gerald. I wish I could believe it."
"Then send that brute of a Macreuse away, and let me try to convince you
that my conduct is at least loyal and honest. What, you insist upon
going?" he added, seeing his mother moving towards the door.
"M. de Macreuse is waiting for me," replied the duchess.
"Then let me send him word to take himself off. There is no necessity of
bothering with him."
But as M. de Senneterre started towards the bell with the evident
intention of giving the order, his mother checked him by saying:
"Really, Gerald, another of my great annoyances is the intense
aversion--I will not say jealousy--you seem to entertain for a worthy
young man whose exemplary life, modesty, and piety ought to be an
example to you. Ah, would to Heaven that you had his principles and
virtues! If that were the case, you would not prefer low company and a
life of dissipation to a brilliant marriage which would assure your
happiness and mine."
With this parting thrust Madame de Senneterre went to join M. de
Macreuse, leaving her son alone, but not without making him promise that
he would wait for her return.