AN INVOLUNTARY AVERSION.
On seeing M. de la Rochaigue thus reappear near the sofa where she had
sat during her conversation with M. de Maillefort, the baroness
exclaimed:
"What, monsieur, were you there?"
"Certainly, for suspecting that your interview with M. de Maillefort
would prove exceedingly interesting as soon as you two were left alone
together, I slipped into the little salon, and have been listening there
behind the portieres close to you."
"You heard what that detestable marquis said, then?"
"Yes, madame, and I also noticed that you were so weak as to ask him to
come again, instead of giving him plainly to understand that his
presence here was no longer desired. You had a fine opportunity to do
it, and you should have availed yourself of it."
"But, monsieur, is not the Marquis de Maillefort as dangerous in one
place as another? He made me understand that very plainly; besides, one
can not treat a man of M. de Maillefort's lineage and importance in a
rude manner."
"What do you suppose would happen if you did?"
"This: the marquis would undoubtedly demand satisfaction of you for such
an insult. Are you not aware that he has fought a number of duels, all
of which resulted disastrously for his opponents, and have you not heard
that only a few days ago he forced M. de Mornand to fight merely on
account of an ill-timed jest in which the latter indulged?"
"But I, madame, am not as obliging and simple as M. de Mornand. I would
not have fought."
"Then, M. de Maillefort would have made your life a burden by his sneers
and ridicule, until you would have been compelled to hide yourself from
very shame."
"But are there no laws to protect a man from such a monster? Ah, if I
were in the Chamber of Peers such scandalous proceedings should not go
unpunished! An honest man should not be at the mercy of the first
cutthroat that happens to come along!" exclaimed the indignant baron.
"But in heaven's name, what is the matter with him,--what does this
damned marquis want, anyhow?"
"You must have very little penetration, monsieur, for he certainly
talked with almost brutal frankness, it seemed to me. Others would have
resorted to circumlocution and even falsehood, but M. de
Maillefort?--no, 'You intend to marry off Mlle. de Beaumesnil,' he says.
'I intend to see in what manner and to whom you marry her, and if your
choice does not please me I shall interfere.' This is what he had the
audacity to say to me, and he is in a position to carry out his threat."
"Fortunately, Ernestine seems to have taken an intense dislike to this
horrid hunchback, and Helena must tell her that he was the mortal enemy
of the countess."
"What good will that do? Suppose we should find a party that suited us
and Ernestine, isn't the marquis, by his sneers and sarcasms, quite
capable of inspiring the innocent girl with an aversion for the very
person we want her to marry? And it is not only here, in this house,
that he can play us this shameful trick,--and many others that he is
capable of concocting,--but he can do it anywhere and everywhere he
meets Ernestine, for we cannot hide her. We shall be obliged to take her
out into society."
"Is it this that you fear most? I should be of the same opinion,
perhaps, if--"
"Do you suppose I know what I fear? I would a hundred times rather have
some real danger to contend with, no matter how threatening it might be,
for then I should at least know what the danger was, and perhaps
contrive to escape it, while now the marquis will keep us in a state of
perplexity that may cause us to commit a thousand blunders, and hamper
us in every way. Consequently there is nothing for us to do but look the
situation straight in the face and say to ourselves: 'Here is a man of
wonderful discernment and diabolical cleverness, who sees, or will
endeavour to see and know, all that we do, and who, unfortunately, has a
thousand means of attaining his ends, while we have no means whatever of
escaping his surveillance.'"
"I am more and more convinced that the opinion I expressed a short time
ago is a just and correct one," said the baron, complacently.
"What opinion?"
"That the marquis is an abominable scoundrel."
"Good evening, monsieur," said Madame de la Rochaigue, wrathfully,
starting towards the door.
"What, you are going like that when we are in such desperate straits,
and without coming to any decision!"
"Decision about what?"
"Why, about what we shall do in the matter."
"I know one thing!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaigue, completely beside
herself, and stamping her foot angrily, "this abominable hunchback has
demoralised me completely, and you--you finish by utterly stupefying me
with your asinine remarks."
And Madame de la Rochaigue flounced out of the room, slamming the door
violently in the baron's very face.
During the conversation between Madame de la Rochaigue and M. de
Maillefort, Helena had taken Mlle. de Beaumesnil back to her own room.
As she was about to leave the young girl she said:
"Sleep well, my dear Ernestine, and pray to the Saviour that he will not
allow the face of that frightful M. de Maillefort to trouble your
dreams."
"I really don't know why it is, mademoiselle, but he almost terrifies
me."
"The feeling is very natural," replied the devotee, gently; "more
natural than you suppose, for if you knew--"
As Helena paused, the young girl said:
"You did not finish, mademoiselle."
"There are some things which it pains one to say against one's
neighbour, even though he may deserve it," remarked the devotee, with a
saintly air. "This M. de Maillefort--"
"Well, mademoiselle?"
"I am afraid of paining you, my dear Ernestine--"
"Go on, I beg of you, mademoiselle."
"Ah, well, as you insist, I am compelled to tell you that this Marquis
de Maillefort has always been one of your mother's bitterest enemies."
"My mother's?" cried Mlle. de Beaumesnil, wonderingly.
Then she added, with touching naivete:
"Some one must have deceived you, mademoiselle. My mother could not have
had any enemies."
In a tone of tender commiseration, Helena replied, shaking her head:
"My dear child, such artlessness does your heart credit; but, alas! the
best and most inoffensive people are exposed to the animosity of the
wicked. Have not the gentle lambs ravening wolves for enemies?"
"But how had my mother ever wronged M. de Maillefort, mademoiselle?"
asked Ernestine, with tears in her eyes.
"Why, in no way. Just Heaven! one might as well say that an innocent
dove would attack a tiger."
"Then what was the cause of M. de Maillefort's animosity?"
"Alas! my poor child, I cannot tell you that. It would be too
revolting--too horrible," answered Helena, sighing heavily.
"Then I have good cause to loathe this man, and yet I blamed myself for
yielding to my involuntary aversion."
"Ah, my dearest child, may you never have a less justifiable aversion,"
said the devotee, sanctimoniously, lifting her eyes heavenward.
Then she added:
"I must leave you, now, my dear Ernestine. Sleep sweetly. To-morrow
morning, at nine o'clock, I will come for you to go to church."
"Good-bye until to-morrow, mademoiselle; but, alas! you leave me with
sad thoughts,--my mother had an enemy."
"It is best to know the real character of the wicked, my dear Ernestine,
for then one can at least guard against their evil doing. And now
good-bye until to-morrow morning."
"Good night, mademoiselle."
So Mlle. de la Rochaigue departed, proud of the perfidious cunning with
which she had aroused a cruel distrust of M. de Maillefort in Mlle. de
Beaumesnil's heart.
Ernestine left alone, rang for her governess, who also acted as her
personal attendant.
Madame Laine entered.
She was about forty years of age, with a somewhat insipid face, and a
pleasant, though rather obsequious manner, in which there was a touch of
servility that made it very different from the devotion of a faithful
nurse, which is always instinct with the dignity of disinterested
affection.
"Does mademoiselle wish to retire?" asked Madame Laine.
"No, my good Laine, not yet. Bring me my writing-desk, please."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
The desk having been brought from Ernestine's chamber, her governess
said:
"There is something I wish to tell mademoiselle."
"What is it?"
"Madame has hired two other maids for mademoiselle, and--"
"I have told you that I require no other personal attendants than you
and Therese."
"I know it, mademoiselle, and I said as much to madame, but she thinks
you are not sufficiently well served."
"You satisfy me perfectly."
"But madame says these young women are to stay in case you should need
them, and this suits all the better as madame dismissed her own maid
recently, and these women are to attend her in the meantime."
"That is all very well," responded Ernestine, indifferently.
"Mademoiselle desires nothing?"
"No, I thank you."
"Does mademoiselle find herself comfortable here?"
"Very comfortable."
"The apartments are certainly superb, but there is nothing too good for
mademoiselle. Every one says so."
"My good Laine, you may put out what I shall require for the night,"
said Ernestine, without paying any attention to the governess's remark.
"I can undress without your assistance, but I would like you to wake me
a little before eight to-morrow morning."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
Madame Laine turned as if to leave the room, but as Ernestine opened
her desk to write, the governess paused, and said:
"I have a favour to ask of mademoiselle."
"What is it?"
"I should be very grateful to mademoiselle if she would have the
goodness to spare me a couple of hours to-morrow, or the day after, to
go and see a relative of mine, Madame Herbaut, who lives in the
Batignolles."
"Very well, go to-morrow morning, while I am at church."
"I thank mademoiselle for her kindness."
"Good-night, my good Laine," said Ernestine, thus dismissing her
governess, who seemed inclined to continue the conversation.
This interview gives a pretty correct idea of the relations that existed
between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Madame Laine.
The latter had often endeavoured to establish herself on a more familiar
footing with her young mistress, but at the very first effort in this
direction Mlle. de Beaumesnil always put an end to the conversation, not
haughtily nor curtly, but by giving some order in a kindly way.
After Madame Laine's departure, Ernestine remained lost in thought for
some time; then, seating herself at the table, on which her desk had
been placed, she opened it and took out a small book bound in Russia
leather, the first leaves of which were already filled.
The history of this book was simple but touching.
On her departure for Italy, Ernestine had promised her mother to write
every day a sort of diary of her journey. This promise the girl had kept
until the sorrowful days that immediately followed her father's fatal
accident, and the even more terrible days that followed the news of the
Comtesse de Beaumesnil's death; and now that she had rallied a little
from these crushing blows, Ernestine found a sort of pious consolation
in continuing to write to her mother every day, keeping up the both
pleasant and cruel illusion by continuing these confidential
revelations.
The first part of this book contained copies of the letters Ernestine
had written to her mother while that lady was living.
The second part, separated from the first by a black cross, contained
the letters which the poor child had, alas! had no need to recopy.
Mlle. de Beaumesnil seated herself at the table, and, after she had
wiped away the tears which the sight of this book always evoked, she
wrote as follows:
"I have not written to you, my darling mamma, since my arrival at M. de
la Rochaigue's house, because I wished to analyse my first impressions
carefully.
"Besides, you know how peculiar I am, and how, whenever I go to a
strange place now, I find myself almost dazed for a day or two by the
change. It seems as if I must have time to become accustomed to the new
objects by which I am surrounded, to recover my mental faculties.
"The apartments set aside for my exclusive use are so magnificent and so
spacious that I felt lost in them yesterday, but to-day I am becoming
more accustomed to them.
"Madame de la Rochaigue and her husband and sister have welcomed me as
if I were their own child. They lavish every attention and kindness upon
me, and if one could have any feeling save gratitude, for such a cordial
reception, I should feel amazed that persons so much older than I am,
should treat me with so much deference.
"M. de la Rochaigue, my guardian, is kindness itself. His wife, who
quite spoils me by her tenderness, is of a very gay and lively
disposition. Mlle. Helena, her sister-in-law, is the gentlest and most
saintly person imaginable.
"You see, my dearest mother, that you need feel no anxiety concerning
your poor Ernestine's lot. Surrounded by such devoted friends, she is as
happy as she can be, now.
"My chief desire is to become better acquainted with M. de la Rochaigue
and his family, for then they will doubtless treat me with less
ceremony, and cease to pay me compliments which embarrass me greatly,
but which they probably feel obliged to pay me in order to make me feel
at ease.
"They are so kind that each person in turn seems to be racking his or
her brain for the pleasantest and most complimentary thing they can say
to me. By and by, I hope that they will see they do not need to flatter
me to gain my affection. One would almost suppose from their manner that
they were under the greatest obligations to me for being allowed to
receive me into their household. This does not surprise me much,
however, my dearest mother, for how often you have told me that refined
people always seem grateful for the services they are able to render
others.
"I have had some very painful moments to-day,--not by any fault of my
guardian or his family, however.
"This morning, a gentleman (my notary, as I learned afterwards) was
introduced to me by my guardian, who said:
"'My dear ward, I think it would be well for you to know the precise
amount of your fortune, and this gentleman will now tell you.'
"Whereupon, the notary, opening a book he had brought with him, showed
me the last page all covered with figures, and said:
"'Mademoiselle, from the exact'--he used a word here that I have
forgotten--'your yearly income amounts to the sum of three million one
hundred and twenty thousand francs, which gives you nearly eight
thousand francs a day, so you are the richest heiress in France.'
"This, my poor dear mother, reminded me again of what, alas! I scarcely
ever forget,--that I was an orphan, and alone in the world; and in spite
of all my efforts to control my feelings, I wept bitterly."
Ernestine was obliged to stop writing. Her tears had burst forth afresh,
for to this tender-hearted, artless child, this rich inheritance meant
the loss of her mother and of her father.
Becoming calmer after a few moments, she resumed her pen, and continued:
"It is difficult for me to explain it, but on learning that I had eight
thousand francs a day, as the notary said, I felt a great awe, not
unmixed with fear.
"'So much money--just for myself! why is it?' I thought.
"It seemed to me unjust.
"What had I done to be so rich?
"And then those words which had made me weep, 'You are the richest
heiress in France,' almost terrified me.
"Yes; I know not how to explain it, but the knowledge that I possessed
this immense fortune made me feel strangely uneasy. It seemed to me that
I must feel as people feel who have a great treasure, and who tremble at
the thought of the dangers they will incur if any one tries to rob them
of it.
"And yet, no; this comparison is not a just one, for I never cared very
much for the money you and my father gave me each month to gratify my
fancies.
"In fact, I seem unable to analyse my feelings when I think of my
wealth, as they call it. It is strange and inexplicable, but perhaps I
shall feel differently by and by.
"In the meantime, I am surrounded by the kindest and most devoted of
relatives. What can I have to fear? It is pure childishness on my part,
undoubtedly. But to whom can I tell everything, if not to you? M. de la
Rochaigue and the other members of his household are wonderfully kind to
me, but I shall never make confidants of them. You know I have always
been very reserved to every one but you and my father; and I often
reproach myself for not being more familiar with my good Laine, who has
been with me several years. But anything like familiarity is impossible
to me, though I am far from being proud."
Then alluding to the aversion she felt for M. de Maillefort, in
consequence of Mlle. Helena's calumnies, Ernestine added:
"I was cruelly hurt this evening, but it was such a disgraceful thing
that, out of respect to you, my dear mother, I will not write it, nor do
I really believe that I should have the courage.
"Good night, my darling mamma. To-morrow and the day following, I am
going to nine o'clock mass with Mlle. de la Rochaigue. She is so good
and kind that I could not refuse. But my most fervent prayers, my dear
mother, are those I offer up in solitude. To-morrow morning and other
mornings, in the midst of the careless crowd, I shall pray for you, but
it is when I am alone, as now, that my every thought and my very soul
lifts itself to thee, and that I pray to thee as one prays to God--my
beloved and sainted mother!"
After having replaced the book in the writing-desk, the key of which she
wore always suspended around her neck, the orphan sought her couch, and
slept much more calmly and peacefully now she had made these artless
confessions to an--alas!--now immortal mother.