"That is a very important point, for there can be little or no chance of
success in our undertaking without absolute secrecy," remarked the
hunchback; "and I need not say, my dear Herminie, that even Gerald
himself must not know that the little embroideress, about whom M.
Olivier has often talked to him, is Mlle. de Beaumesnil."
"Alas! monsieur, it will be an easy matter for me to promise that, for I
shall not see Gerald again until his mother comes to me, or, in other
words, I shall never see him again."
"Courage, my child, courage!" said the hunchback. "I am not a very
devout man, but I do believe in the God of good people, and that virtue
is rewarded, even in this world. Courage, then! But to return to the
subject of M. Olivier; my dear Herminie, if you see him, as you probably
will, you must tell him that Ernestine is not very well. This will give
me time to form my plans, for I only ask that you will give me one
week, my dear children. If I have not brought these matters to a
successful termination in one week, I never shall. Then it will be time
to think of resignation and consolation, and you, my children, must
admit, I think, that if you are obliged to give up all idea of these
much desired marriages, your grief and disappointment will be much more
endurable if you are together, than alone. Besides, I shall be left to
you, and we three, together, can surely make a brave stand against
misfortune."
"Ah, if I had to endure such a sorrow, deprived of Ernestine's
friendship and yours, I believe it would kill me," murmured Herminie.
"Alas! my dear Herminie, how fraught with fears and anxiety this coming
week will be!" exclaimed Ernestine. "But we shall at least see each
other every day, shall we not? Or what is far better," exclaimed Mlle.
de Beaumesnil, starting violently as a new idea suddenly occurred to
her, "we need not be separated any more."
"What do you mean, Ernestine?"
"You must stay here with me from now on. Must she not, M. de
Maillefort?"
"It would be a great happiness for me," answered Herminie, blushing,
"but I cannot accept it."
The hunchback understood Herminie's feelings. She felt that it would be
humiliating to accept an idle and luxurious life from the rich heiress;
besides, Ernestine's proposal, even if it were accepted by the duchess,
might injure M. de Maillefort's plans, and he said as much to Mlle. de
Beaumesnil, who was as greatly surprised as chagrined by her friend's
refusal.
"I think it might seriously interfere with my plans, my dear child, if
your guardian and his family should discover your fondness for Herminie,
for they would immediately institute an inquiry into the cause of this
sudden intimacy with the young girl you had apparently met to-day for
the first time, and the suspicious distrusts thus aroused might give me
a great deal of trouble."
"We shall be obliged to resign ourselves to a separation, then, I
suppose," said Ernestine, sadly; "but it would have been such a comfort
to spend this week of anxiety and suspense with Herminie."
"I share your regret, Ernestine," said the duchess, "but M. de
Maillefort knows what will further our interests better than we do;
besides, my sudden disappearance would, perhaps, arouse M. Olivier's
suspicions. It would be utterly impossible to give him any news of you,
and last, but not least, my dear Ernestine, it will not do to forget
that I support myself by my music lessons, and I could not remain idle
for a whole week."
For an instant, Mlle. de Beaumesnil gazed at the duchess in a sort of
bewilderment, not understanding how Herminie could think of working for
her living now she had the richest heiress in France for an intimate
friend; but remembering the young musician's delicacy and pride, Mlle.
de Beaumesnil shuddered at the thought that she had, perhaps, been in
danger of alienating her friend for ever by her thoughtless, though
kindly meant proposal.
"True, my dear Herminie, I forgot all about your lessons," she replied.
"You must not miss them, of course; but you will at least number me
among your favourite pupils, and not let a day pass without coming.
Won't you promise me that?"
"Oh, yes," replied Herminie, greatly relieved, for, as Ernestine had
suspected, the duchess had trembled lest her friend should insist upon
her acceptance of a hospitality which she regarded as humiliating.
"And now we can only hope that fate will prove propitious, my children,"
said the marquis, rising. "As for your manner towards your guardian, my
dear Ernestine, let it be slightly cold and reserved. Remain in your own
room as much as possible, but do not manifest any very bitter
resentment towards these people. A quarrel might injure us deeply. Later
we will see."
"By the way, M. de Maillefort," said Ernestine, "I think it might be
well to inform you that Madame de la Rochaigue, who is still under the
impression that I intend to marry M. Gerald, wanted me to promise that I
would see Madame de Senneterre to-morrow, but I asked for a few days for
reflection."
"You did wisely, my child, but to-morrow you must formally announce to
Madame de la Rochaigue that you have decided not to marry Gerald. You
need not give any explanation whatever. I will attend to the rest."
"I will follow your advice, monsieur. To-morrow, Herminie, I will make
you both proud and happy by telling you how nobly and frankly M. de
Senneterre behaved towards me. Did he not, M. de Maillefort?"
"His conduct was admirable. Gerald warned me in advance of his plan, and
he kept his promise. But now you girls will be obliged to separate for
awhile."
"Already!" cried Ernestine. "Let me at least keep Herminie until
evening, M. de Maillefort."
"I can not remain any longer, unfortunately, Ernestine," said the
duchess, trying to smile. "At five o'clock I have to give a lesson at
the house of a M. Bouffard, whom M. de Maillefort knows, and I am
obliged to be very punctual."
"I must submit then, I suppose," replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil, with a
sigh, thinking what a drawback Herminie's occupation was to the
pleasures of life; "but you will at least promise to come and see me
to-morrow, will you not, Herminie?"
"Yes, yes," replied the duchess. "I shall await the morrow with quite as
much impatience as you will, I assure you."
"Herminie," asked Mlle. de Beaumesnil, suddenly, "do you love me as much
as when you believed me to be Ernestine, the little embroideress?"
"I love you even more, perhaps," replied the duchess, earnestly, "for
Mlle. de Beaumesnil has retained the heart of Ernestine, the little
embroideress."
The two girls embraced each other affectionately once again and then
separated.
CHAPTER XXI.
"DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND."
Two days after this conversation with Herminie and Ernestine, M. de
Maillefort, after two long and serious consultations with Gerald, wrote
to the Duchesse de Senneterre, asking her to see him that afternoon,
and, his request being granted, the marquis presented himself at the
appointed hour.
The marquis, warned by Gerald, was not surprised at the expression of
bitter anger and chagrin on the face of Madame de Senneterre, for that
very morning Madame de la Rochaigue had informed the duchess that Mlle.
de Beaumesnil, though she liked and admired M. de Senneterre very much,
had no intention of marrying him.
At the sight of the hunchback, Madame de Senneterre's wrath blazed up
still more fiercely, and she exclaimed, bitterly:
"You must confess, monsieur, that I am wonderfully generous!"
"In what way?"
"Am I not giving you the pleasure of coming to exult over the misery you
have caused?"
"To what misery do you allude?"
"What misery?" exclaimed the duchess, wrathfully. "Is it not your fault
that my son's marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil is broken off?"
"My fault?"
"Oh, I am not your dupe, monsieur, and it is to assure you of that fact
that I consented to the interview you had the audacity to ask of me. I
did not want to miss this opportunity to tell you face to face how much
I hate and despise you."
"So be it, madame. It affords just as good a topic of conversation as
any other, and you excel in this kind of discourse, I believe."
"M. de Maillefort will oblige me by reserving his insulting irony for
some other occasion," retorted Madame de Senneterre, haughtily. "He
would also do well to remember that he has the honour of speaking to the
Duchesse de Senneterre."
"Madame la Duchesse de Senneterre will do me the honour to treat me with
the consideration due me," replied the hunchback, sternly; "if not, I
shall govern my words exactly by Madame de Senneterre's."
"Is that intended as a threat, monsieur?"
"As a lesson, madame."
"A lesson, to me?"
"And why not, may I ask? What, I who was your husband's oldest and most
trusted friend, I who love Gerald as a son, I who have a right to the
respect and esteem of every one,--do you understand, madame? to the
respect of every one,--I whose birth is at least equal to yours (it is
well to remind you of that, as you attach such an absurd importance to
such trifles), I am to be greeted with insulting words and eyes flashing
with anger; and yet I am not to remind you of what you owe to me and
what you owe to yourself?"
Like all vain and arrogant persons who are not accustomed to the
slightest contradiction, Madame de Senneterre was at first surprised and
irritated, but afterwards, awed by this stern and sensible language, her
anger giving place to a profound despondency, she replied:
"Ah, monsieur, you should at least make some allowance for the despair a
mother naturally feels on seeing her son ruined for ever."
"Ruined?"
"Yes, and through you."
"Will you have the goodness to prove that?"
"I have heard of the wonderful influence you have recently acquired over
Mlle. de Beaumesnil. My son, too, has more confidence in you than he has
in his mother, and if you had been favourably disposed, this marriage,
which had been virtually decided upon, would not have been suddenly
broken off for no apparent reason. Yes, there is a mystery about all
this which you only can solve. And when I think that Gerald, with his
illustrious name, might be the richest landed proprietor in France, but
for you, I am,--well, yes, I am,--the most wretched of women and
mothers, and I positively weep with rage and chagrin, as you see,
monsieur. You are satisfied now, are you not?"
For the proud Duchesse de Senneterre was indeed weeping bitterly.
Had it not been for the deep interest he felt in Gerald and Herminie, M.
de Maillefort, not in the least affected by these absurd tears, would
have turned his back on this haughty and avaricious woman, who naively
believed herself the tenderest and most unfortunate of mothers simply
because she had left no means untried to secure her son an immense
fortune and because this scheme of hers had failed; but desiring above
all things to ensure the successful termination of the undertaking
entrusted to him, the marquis allowed this ebullition of grief, which
did not touch him in the least, to pass unnoticed.
"The mystery you speak of is very simple, it seems to me. Gerald and
Mlle. de Beaumesnil like and appreciate each other, but are not the
least bit in love, that is all."
"What has love to do with the matter? Are there not plenty of marriages,
besides those in royal families, made without love?"
"You must know that I have not requested an important interview with you
merely to discuss a question which has been a matter of contention ever
since the world began, viz., which is better, a marriage of convenience
or a love match. We should never come to any agreement; besides, we have
to deal with an accomplished fact: Gerald's marriage with Mlle. de
Beaumesnil is now an impossibility, and you may as well make the best of
it. That young lady's millions will never belong to your son, who, fine
fellow that he is, cares nothing whatever about them."
"Yes, and thanks to such idiotic disinterestedness, or rather such
shameful indifference to enhancing the splendour of their name, the
scions of our most illustrious houses are lapsing into a disgraceful
mediocrity. It was for this very reason that my father and my
husband--by neglecting the means of reestablishing the fortune of which
that infamous revolution stripped us--left my son and my daughters
almost penniless. In the present condition of affairs, I have little
chance of marrying off my daughters, while Gerald, if he were rich,
could help his sisters pecuniarily, and they would thus be able to
secure eligible partis. And you wonder that I am overwhelmed with
despair at the ruin of my plans,--at the destruction of my hope of
securing for my son a fortune suited to his rank!"
"I suppose that you love Gerald after your fashion. It is not a very
commendable fashion, still you do love him, I suppose."
"Yes, I do love him--I love him as I ought to love him, too."
"We will see about that."
"What do you mean, monsieur?"
"In the first place, it is my duty to tell you that Gerald is deeply in
love, and that--"
Madame de Senneterre sprang up out of her armchair, fairly purple with
anger, and, interrupting the hunchback, exclaimed, vehemently:
"It is outrageous! I have suspected it all along! The mystery is cleared
up now. It is my son who has refused, for that little Beaumesnil was
wild about him. I could see that at the ball, and it is you, you,
monsieur, who have had a hand in this abominable intrigue. I will never
see my son again. He has no heart, no soul!"
The marquis had anticipated this explosion, and, without taking the
slightest notice of it, continued:
"You interrupted me, madame. I was about to say that Mlle. de
Beaumesnil, far from being in love with Gerald, entertains a very ardent
affection for another man."
"The bold-faced hussy!" exclaimed the duchess with such naivete that the
marquis could not help smiling slightly, in spite of his anxiety.
"I also feel it my duty to inform you, madame, that Gerald is in love
with a young girl who is in every respect worthy of his love."
"I beg, monsieur, that you will not say another word to me on the
subject," said Madame de Senneterre, feigning a calmness which the
trembling of her voice grievously belied. "All is ended between my son
and me. He can love whom he pleases and marry whom he pleases, as he is
old enough to dispense with my consent. Let him drag his name through
the mire if he likes. From this day I shall resume my maiden name, and I
shall proclaim high and low and everywhere why I blush to bear a name so
dishonoured and degraded. It is to be hoped that I shall, at least, find
some consolation in my daughters."
To these senseless ravings the marquis replied, quietly and gravely:
"Your son understands his duty towards you very differently from what
you understand yours towards him. He will not even make the formal
request for parental consent on the part of a person who is of legal
age, which is usual in such cases. He will both honour and respect your
wishes to this extent: he will not marry without your consent."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, with a sardonic laugh. "He
really does me this honour?"
"And, in spite of the profound love she cherishes for him, the young
lady he loves will consent to marry him only upon one condition: that
you, madame, go and tell this young lady that you consent to her
marriage with your son."
"This, M. de Maillefort, must be only a jest."
"It is a matter of life or death for your son, madame."
The voice of the marquis and the expression of his face were so full of
earnestness and authority, that Madame de Senneterre, impressed in spite
of herself, cried in alarm:
"What do you mean, monsieur?"
"I mean that you must be a hard-hearted mother if you have not noticed
your son's pallor and almost prostrated condition for several days past.
On the day of the ball at which your son behaved so nobly, did not your
physician tell you that, but for the heroic treatment to which he had
resorted, you would have been in great danger of losing your son by
brain fever?"
Gradually recovering from her alarm, and regretting that she had allowed
herself to display even a momentary solicitude, Madame de Senneterre
retorted, disdainfully:
"Nonsense! A brain fever can be cured by a few bleedings, monsieur, and
one dies of love only in novels, and in very poor novels."
"That is a kind and motherly remark, madame, and to keep it company I
will say to you, with equal coolness, that if, after you have had time
to make proper inquiries and obtain all needful information concerning
the young lady of whom I have spoken, you do not take the step expected
of you--"
"Well, monsieur?"
"Well, madame, your son will kill himself--"
"Yes, as the disappointed lover does in all the thrilling melodramas,"
retorted Madame de Senneterre, with an even shriller laugh.
"I tell you that your son will kill himself, you poor fool!" exclaimed
the marquis, terrible in his earnestness. "I tell you the last Duc de
Senneterre will perish by his own hand like the last Duc de Bretigny!"
This allusion to a recent tragical event, which had been one of the
chief topics of conversation at Madame de Mirecourt's ball, gave the
duchess a severe shock. She knew Gerald's remarkable energy and
determination of character, and consequently knew how much he must
suffer from this hidden grief; besides, she had such a profound respect
for M. de Maillefort, much as she disliked him personally, that she knew
he would be incapable of threatening her with the possibility of
Gerald's suicide if he was not really convinced that such a danger was
imminent, so the now thoroughly frightened woman cried:
"What you say is terrible, monsieur. The house of De Senneterre become
extinct by a suicide!"
The blind pride of race spoke more loudly than maternal love in this
cry.
The proud woman shuddered first chiefly at the thought that the name of
the Senneterres, of that great and illustrious house, might become
extinct through an act that the society in which she moved considered a
crime.
The marquis understood Madame de Senneterre's real feelings so well that
he exclaimed:
"Yes; if you are as blind as you are pitiless, this illustrious name of
Senneterre, often famous and always honoured, will be blotted out for
ever in tears and in blood."
"M. de Maillefort, such an idea is horrible! I know my son is capable of
going to almost any extreme--but no, no, I will not believe that. You
make me shudder! And when I think of the grief and despair and shame of
a family that sees its head end his life by his own rash
act--hold--enough--enough--I should go mad!"
And passing her hand hastily across her brow, covered with big drops of
cold sweat, Madame de Senneterre continued:
"I tell you, monsieur, that I cannot and will not think of such a thing.
But who is this young woman you speak of? Though I am in mortal dread as
to the choice Gerald has made, there is one thing that reassures me a
little. It is that the young woman insists that I shall come and tell
her that I consent to her marriage with my son. For her to dare expect
such a concession from me, she must hold such a social position that I,
at least, have no cause to fear an unworthy love on the part of my son."
"Gerald has placed his affections creditably, even nobly, madame. I have
already had the honour of assuring you of this fact," responded the
marquis, severely, "and usually what I say can be believed."
"That is true, monsieur. Your assurance should satisfy me on that point.
It is not likely that I shall ever have another opportunity to make such
a match as that which I dreamed of for my son; but if the birth and
fortune of the young lady in question are satisfactory, and--"
But here the hunchback interrupted Madame de Senneterre by saying:
"The young lady in question is an orphan. She is a music teacher, and
supports herself by giving lessons."
It is impossible to describe the expression of Madame de Senneterre's
face as the words of the marquis fell upon her ear. Had she experienced
an electric shock, the movement she made could not have been more
convulsive.
"An adventuress, then! The wretched boy, to degrade himself like this!"
she cried. "What a humiliation for me and my daughters!"
And as M. de Maillefort sprang up no less hastily to reply to Madame de
Senneterre, the latter interrupted him by adding:
"And such a creature has the audacity to ask me--me to so degrade myself
as to go to her, the--"
But Madame de Senneterre did not complete the sentence. She had fully
intended to add an opprobrious epithet, but she burst into a shrill,
almost frenzied, laugh instead.
A cold silence following this ebullition of rage, Madame de Senneterre
placed a trembling hand on M. de Maillefort's arm, and said:
"My dear marquis, listen to me. If my unworthy son should come and stand
there,--right before me, do you understand?--and say to me,'I will kill
myself before your very eyes if you refuse your consent,' I should say,
'Kill yourself, then. I would rather see you dead than disgraced. I
would rather your name should die out, than to see it perpetuated to
your dishonour, mine, and that of your sisters.'"
Then seeing the marquis was about to protest, she added:
"M. de Maillefort, I am not in a passion, I am calm, and I am saying
exactly what I mean. I am telling you exactly what I should do, and
after the insulting demand of my son and his accomplice, it is no longer
maternal love or even indifference I feel for him; it is contempt, it is
hatred, yes, hatred, do you hear? Tell him so. All the affection I once
felt for this scoundrel I shall now bestow upon my daughters."
"This woman would do what she says," thought the marquis, with a feeling
of horror. "It is useless to insist further. Reason is no match for such
blind obstinacy as this. This woman, as she says, would watch her son
kill himself before her very eyes unmoved. This is a pride of race that
amounts to the stupid ferocity of the brute. Poor Gerald! Poor
Herminie!"
CHAPTER XXII.
A FINAL VICTORY.
After a moment's silence, during which Madame de Senneterre sat
positively panting with rage at this odious revelation which she could
not yet fully make up her mind to believe, viz., that her son wished to
marry a music teacher who supported herself by her own exertions, M. de
Maillefort said, coldly, and exactly as if the foregoing conversation
had never taken place:
"Madame, what do you think of the nobility and illustriousness of the
house of Haut-Martel?"
At first Madame de Senneterre gazed at the hunchback with evident
surprise, then she said:
"Really, monsieur, this question is most extraordinary."
"And why, madame?"
"What, monsieur, you see me crushed under the blow that has just struck
me, or, rather, that you have just dealt me, unintentionally, no doubt,"
she added, with bitter irony, "and then ask me without rhyme or reason
what I think of the illustriousness of the house of Haut-Martel."
"My question is less extraordinary, as you do not seem to think there
can be the slightest ameliorating circumstance in the blow that has just
overtaken you. So once more I ask, what do you think of the house of
Haut-Martel?"
"There is not an older or more illustrious family in France, you most
know very well, as you are closely connected with it on your father's
side."
"I am now the head of that house, madame."
"You?" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre.
And strange to say the lady's acerbity of manner gave place to a sort of
envious deference for the new representative of this powerful family.
"But I thought that the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, who has resided on
his estates in Germany since that idiotic revolution of 1830--"
"That Prince Duc de Haut-Martel is dead, madame, and as he had neither
brothers nor children, and as I am his cousin-germain, I inherit his
estates and title."
"Then this event must have occurred very recently."
"I received the first intimation of it through the Austrian ambassador,
and last night I had an official confirmation of the fact."
"So you are now the Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel?"
said Madame de Senneterre, with mingled admiration and envy.
"Precisely, and without troubling myself very much about it, as you
see."
"But your position is magnificent," exclaimed this monomaniac, quite
forgetting the son whose despair might end in suicide. "Why, you are now
one of the greatest noblemen in France."
"Good Heavens! yes. My newly acquired dignities enable me to aspire to
anything, do they not? And to think that only yesterday I was but a
simple marquis! What a change to-day, is there not? Don't you find my
hump a little smaller since you have heard that I am so great a
nobleman?"
"One should no more sneer at rank than at religion, monsieur."
"Certainly not. There are plenty of other subjects for ridicule. But I
forgot to tell you that the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel left me estates in
Hungary which yield a yearly income of about fifty thousand crowns,
free of all incumbrances."
"One hundred and fifty thousand francs! Why, though no one knows the
exact amount of your fortune, you are supposed to be very rich already,
monsieur," replied Madame de Senneterre, with a sort of jealous envy.
"I scarcely know the exact amount of my income, myself," said the
hunchback, "for my tenants, poor souls! pay me only when they can do so
without too great an effort; but even in the worst of times I can
generally count upon at least sixty thousand francs a year, to say
nothing of the fact--of course, this is little more than an empty
honour--that the electors of the arrondissement in which my estates are
located propose to do me the honour of making me their deputy, their
former representative having recently died; so you see that wealth and
honours are falling upon me thick as hail."
"Then you have an income of more than two hundred thousand francs, and
are Prince Duc de Haut-Martel and--"
"Prospective deputy, besides. Don't forget that."
"Your position is certainly a very enviable one."
"Yes, and with my figure and appearance I can aspire to the most
beautiful woman in the land, can I not? Say, what a pity it is that
Mlle. de Beaumesnil is in love with a handsome young man! But for that,
I might have married her myself."
A new thought suddenly occurred to Madame de Senneterre, and after a
moment's reflection the avaricious creature, casting a keen glance at M.
de Maillefort, said:
"I think I understand you, M. le marquis."
"Let me see if you do."
"The question you asked me just now as to what I thought of the house of
Haut-Martel was intended to suggest a sort of compensation for the
terrible disappointment my unworthy son has caused me."
"You are right, madame."
"And as you have unexpectedly become the head of an illustrious house,
you do not want it to become extinct."
"There is some truth in that, also," replied the hunchback, not a little
surprised at Madame de Senneterre's penetration, though he was far from
suspecting the lady's real thought.
"Yes, I admit that I would not like the name to die out, madame," he
added, after a slight pause.
"And as you know that only a carefully reared girl of noble birth would
be capable of bearing this noble name as it should be borne, and of
understanding the sacred obligations she would have to fulfil towards
the man to whom she owed such a magnificent position, you are thinking
of my eldest daughter,--and believe you can thus offer me an adequate
compensation for the misery my son's insubordination has caused me."
"I! marry?" exclaimed the hunchback, even more revolted than surprised
by Madame de Senneterre's heartless proposal.
But anxious to see how far the blindness, hardness of heart, and love of
greed would carry this cruel parent, he responded with one of those half
way refusals that seem to be made only in the hope of seeing them
overcome.
"I think of such a marriage! Besides, even if I did, would there be any
possibility of compassing it? Think of it, madame, at my age and
deformed as I am, while your daughter Bertha is a charming girl of
barely twenty. She would laugh in my face and she would do perfectly
right."
"You are mistaken, monsieur," replied this incomparable parent, gravely.
"In the first place, Mlle. de Senneterre has been reared in habits of
respect and submission from which I feel sure she will never depart.
Besides, she knows that she is poor, and that she would never be likely
to attain another position to be compared with that you offer her."
"But again let me remind you that I am old and ugly and a hunchback
besides."
"M. le marquis, my daughters have been brought up in such a way that
they would not dare to so much as look at the husband I select for them
until the marriage ceremony is over."
"A pleasant surprise you would give the poor child that married me!"
"I repeat, M. le marquis, that my daughters have not those lewd
imaginations that are capable only of a carnal appreciation of a
husband. If I tell my daughter my wishes, that will suffice."
"I am strongly inclined to tell this heartless, unscrupulous woman what
I think of her," the hunchback said to himself; "but what should I gain
by it? She is an egregious fool, and there is nothing for me to do but
answer the fool according to her folly."
So seeing that Madame de Senneterre was awaiting his reply with keen
anxiety, the marquis said:
"You said a few minutes ago, and very sensibly, I think, that one should
no more speak lightly of rank than of religion, did you not?"
"Yes, M. le marquis."
"You will admit, too, probably, that it is equally wrong to treat
marriage lightly."
"Certainly, M. le marquis."
"Then allow me to say that your desire to see your daughter Bertha
Princesse de Haut-Martel would result in nothing more or less than a
cruel mockery of religion, nobility of rank, and marriage,--three sacred
things, as you call them."
"How is that, monsieur?"
"Mlle. de Senneterre would outrage all the laws of marriage and
religion, or rather of nature and the Creator, which is even worse, by
pledging love and fidelity to an old hunchback like me; and I, in turn,
would bring disgrace and ridicule upon the nobility in general, and upon
the houses of Senneterre and Haut-Martel in particular, by running any
risk of perpetuating their illustrious line with a set of hideous little
hunchbacks made in my image. They might serve as convincing proof of my
wife's resignation and faithfulness, but they would certainly give the
world a droll opinion of our great historic races."
"Really, M. le marquis--I--"
"You are going to cite Prince Eugene, possibly, as an example for me,
and I ought, perhaps, to feel greatly flattered by the comparison, but
it would not be well to impair the lustre of such rarities by
multiplying them. I am extremely grateful to you for your kind offer,
and Mlle. Bertha, believe me, will be equally grateful to me for having
declined it. It depends entirely upon you, however, whether a union of
our two powerful houses is realised or not, and also whether this income
of two hundred thousand francs is allowed to go out of your family. I
make haste to assure you that I am too thoroughly convinced of my own
unworthiness to venture to lift my eyes to you, madame la duchesse,"
added the hunchback, with a low, though decidedly ironical bow. "In the
first place I should make you the most detestable husband in the world,
and then I have no inclination for marriage."
"It is hardly necessary to decline with such alacrity a proposition that
has never been made to you," replied the Duchesse de Senneterre, rather
spitefully. "You would oblige me by explaining yourself more clearly,
however, for I never was good at solving enigmas. You are kind enough to
speak of a union of our two houses, and of preventing your fortune from
going out of my family, but I haven't the slightest idea how you propose
to bring these things about."
"First permit me to say--not at all by way of reproach, understand--that
you were not so very difficult to please in regard to lineage when
Gerald's marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil was under consideration.
Beaumesnil is not an aristocratic name by any means,--the grandfather of
the late count, though a highly respected man, was simply M. Joseph
Vert-Puis, a very wealthy banker."
"I know perfectly well that Mlle. Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil is a mere
nobody, so far as birth is concerned, but--"
"But the numerous millions gild this recently ennobled plebeian, do they
not? Very well, though that number of millions may have to be divided by
four or five, what would you say to a notice couched in the following
terms:
"M. le Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, etc., etc., has
the honour to inform you of the marriage of Mlle. Herminie de
Haut-Martel, with M. le Duc de Senneterre."
Madame de Senneterre, surprised beyond expression, gazed wonderingly at
the hunchback, who continued:
"The marriage contract stipulates that all male children that may be
born of this marriage shall take the name of Senneterre-Haut-Martel,
which I fancy will sound quite as well as Noailles-Noailles,
Rohan-Rochefort, or Montmorency-Luxembourg, and as Mlle. Herminie
Haut-Martel is an only child, and I am very frugal in my tastes, the
young couple will have, up to the time of my death, one hundred and
fifty thousand francs a year to sustain their exalted rank in a suitable
manner."
"I really do not understand you at all, M. de Maillefort. You have never
been married, and you have no daughter."
"No, but what is there to prevent me from adopting one, and thus giving
her my name and fortune?"
"Nothing, of course. But who are the parents of this girl you
contemplate adopting?"
"She is an orphan, and, as I told you before, she is a music teacher,
and supports herself by giving lessons."
"What!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "that same creature Gerald is
crazy about?"
"Enough, madame," said the marquis, sternly. "I will not permit any one
to speak in that way in my presence of a young lady whom I love and
esteem sufficiently to give her my name."
"But what you say is so strange--"
"Strange or not, do you accept my proposal, yes or no?"
"Accept--monsieur? Accept for a daughter-in-law--a--a person who has
given music lessons for a living?"
"Such sensitiveness on your part is truly heroic, doubtless, but I must
call your attention to the fact that your son has little or nothing, and
that Mlle. Herminie de Maillefort, though she has done such a scandalous
thing as to earn an honest living, would bring M. de Senneterre two
hundred thousand francs a year, and an alliance with the Haut-Martel
family. I also take the liberty of reminding you that your son will
probably kill himself if he does not marry this young lady. I know you
would rather see him dead than married to some one beneath him, for the
mother of the Gracchi is not to be compared with you, so far as stoicism
is concerned, but it is none the less certain that the extinction of the
house of Senneterre in such a fashion would cause a frightful scandal,
which would, I think, be even worse than a _mesalliance_, especially
when a Senneterre makes a _mesalliance_ with a Maillefort de
Haut-Martel."
"But, monsieur, every one will know that this young person is only your
adopted child."
"All I can say in reply to that objection, madame, is that I, myself,
could never have had so beautiful, so affectionate, and so truly noble a
child."
"You know her well, then?"
"You certainly ask a singular question, madame. What! can you believe
that I--being the man you know me to be--would give my name to a person
who would not be an honour to that name?"
"But, monsieur," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, in a tone of sorrowful
reproach, "there can be no denying the fact that your adopted daughter
has been a--a professional artiste."
"My adopted daughter, will, indeed, have the terrible misfortune to be
and to have been a musical artiste of a high order. This is truly
deplorable. I weep--I mourn--I bewail the fact. But, alas! you know the
proverb, 'The prettiest girl in the world has some fault.'"
"And her patrons, do they belong to our set?"
"No, she is too proud for that."
"_Mon Dieu!_ marquis, you place me in a very embarrassing position."
"I shall be able to put an end to this perplexity, I think. Listen
attentively," continued M. de Maillefort, no longer in an ironical
manner, but in firm, even stern tones. "I tell you plainly, once for
all, that, if you refuse your consent, I shall go straight to Herminie,
tell her exactly, what I intend to do for her, and prove to her that
though, as a nameless and penniless girl, her dignity demanded the
advances she asked from you, lest it might be said that she had forced
herself upon the Senneterre family from ambitious or mercenary motives,
as the adopted child of M. de Maillefort, who brings an illustrious name
and a fortune of two hundred thousand francs a year to her husband, she
need feel no such scruples. As Herminie adores Gerald, and my reasoning
is perfectly just and sensible, I think, in fact I am sure, that she
will be guided by me. Your son will make the usual formal application
for your consent, and then there is nothing more to be said."
"Monsieur--"
"It will pain Gerald a good deal, I am sure, to have to dispense with
your consent, for he loves you--blindly--that is the proper word to use
in this connection; but in order to spare him all remorse, I shall
repeat your words to him, madame: 'I had rather see him dead, than
married to one beneath him.' Atrocious, or, rather, senseless words,
when I, myself, assured you that Gerald could not find a wife more
worthy of him than the one he has chosen!"
"You surely would not create discord between my son and me, monsieur."
"I shall certainly do everything in my power to ensure Gerald's peace of
mind and happiness, since you are so stubborn and opinionated as to be
willing to sacrifice both to your absurd prejudices--"
"That expression, monsieur--"
"These prejudices are not only absurd, madame, but after the adoption I
propose, there is no longer even an excuse for them. One word more. If
you have the good sense to prefer to live in peace and on affectionate
terms with your son, and spare yourself, as well as him, a most
deplorable scandal, you will go to Herminie's home to-morrow--any
further inquiries being entirely unnecessary after what I have told you
about her."
"I--monsieur--I, go first to the home of this young person?"
"You will be obliged to degrade yourself to that extent, the degradation
being the more terrible, as Herminie, for certain reasons, must remain
ignorant of my intention of adopting her until after your visit. So it
will be to Mlle. Herminie, the poor music teacher, that you will go to
give your consent to her marriage with your son."
"Never, monsieur, never will I so lower myself as to do this thing."
"But remember that there is nothing really humiliating about this step,
and that no one will witness it but me, for I shall be there at the
time."
"I tell you that it is impossible, monsieur. Never will I subject myself
to such a humiliation."
"Then, instead of making your son adore you by consenting to a thing you
cannot prevent, Gerald will know exactly what your affection is worth,
and dispense with your consent entirely."
"But you cannot expect me to come to such an important decision in a
moment, as it were."
"So be it, madame. I will give you until to-morrow noon. I will call
then to hear your decision, and, if it conforms alike to the dictates of
common sense and maternal love, I will precede you by a few moments to
Herminie's home, in order that I may be there when you arrive. If you do
not agree to this, I declare to you that your son will be married in
less than six weeks."
Having said this, the marquis bowed low to Madame de Senneterre, and
walked straight out of the room.
"I am satisfied that the egregious simpleton will do what I ask," he
said to himself, "for her ambition and her avarice will both be so
thoroughly gratified by this marriage that she will forget that
objectionable feature,--the adoption. Besides, by one of those strange
contradictions we so often see in poor, frail human nature, this woman,
who in her obstinacy would drive her son to suicide, is as jealous of
his affection as if she were the tenderest and most devoted of mothers;
and, understanding how Gerald will adore her if she pretends to give a
free consent to his marriage, she will go to Herminie, I am sure of it.
"But, alas! the game is only half won so far as I am concerned," mused
the hunchback. "Will Herminie, who is so proud, consent to become my
adopted child, when she knows the advantages which this adoption will
give her, and which alone decided Madame de Senneterre to take the
initiative? I am very much afraid that she will not. Did I not see how
uncomfortable she felt when Ernestine insisted, not that she should
share her wealth, but merely give up her lessons and remain with her?
And yet, she perhaps knows that Ernestine is her sister, for I can doubt
it no longer,--Herminie is, and knows she is, the daughter of Madame de
Beaumesnil.
"Under these circumstances will Herminie, proud and sensitive as she is,
accept my offer? I am by no means certain of it, though I told Gerald's
mother so in order to frighten her. That, too, is the reason I desired
that the marriage should be definitely arranged before I broached the
subject of adoption at all. But I found that could not be managed.
Madame de Senneterre would have seen her son kill himself in her
presence rather than consent to a _mesalliance_ with a poor girl without
name or fortune. All I have been able to do is, perhaps, to induce
Madame de Senneterre to make the desired advances to Herminie,--the poor
orphan and music teacher. Afterwards we will see."
"I shall now go straight to M. de la Rochaigue. Having done all I can
for Herminie, I must now see what I can do for Ernestine. I shall have
to take the baron unawares, for, in his exasperation against me as the
fell destroyer of his hopes of a seat in the Senate, he will refuse to
see me, but, with Ernestine's aid, I shall be able to surprise him, I
think, and, fortunately for my plans, he is much more stupid than
wicked."
And M. de Maillefort, reentering his carriage, was driven to M. de la
Rochaigue's house.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A TEMPTING BAIT.
M. de Maillefort, having asked to see Mlle. de Beaumesnil, was conducted
straight to Ernestine's apartments.
"Have you some good news for Herminie?" cried Ernestine, hastening
forward to meet him.
"A little, I think."
"How glad I am! Can I tell Herminie when I see her what you have just
told me?"
"Yes; tell her to hope, and yet not to expect too much. And now, as you
seem to have forgotten all about yourself, I will add that the result of
my inquiries concerning M. Olivier has been eminently satisfactory."
"I was sure it would be."
"I even discovered one rather strange fact. It is that, while he was
working during his leave so he might be able to assist his uncle, he
went down to Beaumesnil, your estate near Luzarches, to help a
contractor with his estimates there."
"M. Olivier? That was, indeed, strange."
"And this circumstance suggested a plan which I think may prove a good
one, for now I think, with you, that you could not have made a wiser
choice, but--"
"But what?"
"It is such an important matter that I have thought one more test might
be advisable. What is your opinion on the subject?"
"Try it; I have no fears."
"Besides, you shall witness it yourself, my dear child. If M. Olivier
withstands it, you will be the proudest and happiest of women, and there
can be no further doubt of your future happiness. If, on the contrary,
he succumbs, it will, alas! only be a fresh proof that the noblest
natures sometimes yield to certain temptations. This test, too, will
have another and very important result."
"And what is that?"
"After this test M. Olivier can not feel the slightest scruples about
marrying the richest heiress in France, and you know, my dear child,
that you have some very grave apprehensions on that score."
"Ah, monsieur, you are, indeed, our good angel!"
"Wait a little, my child. Don't praise me too soon. Now, one thing more.
Didn't you tell me that there was a back stairway that led up to your
guardian's rooms?"
"Yes, monsieur, several of his intimate friends, who are never formally
announced, always make use of it mornings."
"Very well; I propose to play the part of an intimate friend myself,
then, and give the baron a surprise. Show me the way, my child."
As they were passing through Madame Laine's room, Ernestine paused and
said to the hunchback:
"I have always forgotten to tell you how I managed to leave the house
unobserved the night I went to Madame Herbaut's party, M. de Maillefort.
That door you see over there opens upon another back stairway that leads
down to the street. The door at the foot of it was nailed up a long time
ago, but my governess succeeded in opening it, and it was through that
door we left the house and entered it."
"Has this door been securely nailed up again?" inquired the hunchback,
thoughtfully.
"My governess told me that she had fastened it securely on the inside."
"My dear child, your governess is an unprincipled woman. She assisted
you in making your escape from the house and also favoured your long
visits to Herminie. No matter how reprehensible your motives had been,
she would have obeyed you just the same, so she is not to be trusted."
"I have no confidence in her, of course, M. de Maillefort, and, as soon
as I can, I intend to pay her liberally, as I promised, and send her
away."
"This door, which affords such easy access to your apartments and which
is so entirely at this woman's disposal, seems to me a very bad thing,"
remarked the hunchback. "You had better tell your guardian to-day that
you have discovered this door, and ask him to have it walled up as soon
as possible, or else give you some other room."
"I will do as you say, monsieur, but what fears can you have on the
subject?"
"I have no well-founded fears at all, my dear child. I consider the
walling up of this door as, first, a matter of propriety, and
subsequently as a matter of prudence. There is nothing in this to alarm
you in the least. Now, au revoir. I am going to have a bout with your
guardian, and hope to have some good news for you on my return."
A moment afterwards M. de Maillefort had reached the floor above. Seeing
a key in the lock of the door in front of him, he opened this door, and,
finding himself in a narrow passage, he followed this passage until he
came to a second door, which he opened like the first and found himself
in M. de la Rochaigue's study.
That gentleman was seated with his back to the door, reading, in the
morning paper, an account of the proceedings during the session of the
Chamber of Peers the day before. Hearing the door open, he turned his
head and saw the hunchback, who came briskly, even gaily, forward, and,
giving him a friendly nod of the head, exclaimed, blithely:
"Good morning, my dear baron, good morning!"
M. de la Rochaigue was too much astounded to utter a word.
Leaning back in his armchair, his hands still clutching the paper, he
sat like one petrified, though his eyes were full of surprise and anger.
"You see, my dear baron, I am assuming all the privileges of an intimate
friend and making myself quite at home," continued the hunchback, in the
same jovial, almost affectionate tone, as he seated himself in an
armchair near the fireplace.
M. de la Rochaigue was fairly purple with rage by this time, but, having
a wholesome fear of the marquis, he controlled his wrath as best he
could, and said, rising abruptly:
"It seems incredible, unheard of, outrageous, that--that I should have
your presence thus forced upon me, monsieur, after that scene the other
evening, and--and--"
"My dear baron, excuse me, but if I had requested the honour of an
interview, you would have refused it, would you not?"
"Most assuredly I should, monsieur, for--"
"So I very wisely decided to take you by surprise. Now do me the favour
to sit down, and let us talk this matter over like a couple of friends."
"Friends? You have the audacity to say that, monsieur; you, who ever
since I first had the misfortune to know you, have fairly hounded me
with sneers and sarcasms which--which I have returned in kind," added
the baron, with true parliamentary aplomb. "A friend? you, monsieur, who
have just outdone yourself by--"
"My dear baron," said the hunchback, interrupting M. de la Rochaigue
afresh, "did you ever see an amusing comedy by Scribe, called 'A Woman's
Hatred'?"
"I am unable to see any connection--"
"But you will, my dear baron. In this little play, a young and pretty
woman seems to pursue with the bitterest animosity a young man, whom in
her secret heart she adores."
"And what of that, may I ask?"
"Well, my dear baron, with this slight difference, viz., that you are
not a young man, and I am not a pretty woman who adores you, our
relative positions are exactly the same as those of the hero and heroine
in Scribe's little comedy."
"Once more, monsieur, I--"
"My dear baron, one question, if you please. Have you political
aspirations,--yes, or no?"
"Monsieur--"
"Oh, put all false modesty aside and answer me frankly. Do you consider
yourself a politician or not?"
On hearing this allusion to his pet hobby, the poor baron, forgetting
his resentment, puffed out his cheeks, and, slipping his left hand in
the bosom of his dressing-gown while he gesticulated with his right,
assumed a parliamentary attitude and majestically responded:
"If a most profound, extended, and conscientious study of the internal
and external condition of France, if a certain aptitude for public
speaking, and a devoted love of country constitute a politician, I might
reasonably aspire to that role. Yes, and but for you, monsieur,--but for
your outrageous attack upon M. de Mornand,--I might not only aspire to,
but assume that role at an early day."
"True, my dear baron, and I must confess that it was with unutterable
satisfaction that I killed two birds with one stone by preventing a base
and corrupt man like M. de Mornand from marrying your ward, and at the
same time preventing you from becoming a peer of France."
"Yes, from satisfying my ridiculous ambition, as you have told me to my
face more than once, monsieur, and I repel the insulting aspersion with
scorn and disdain. There is nothing ridiculous about my ambition,
monsieur."
"It is ridiculous in every respect, my dear baron."
"Have you come here to insult me, monsieur?"
"Do you know why your ambition is ridiculous and out of place, my dear
baron? It is because you long for a field of labour in which your
political talents will be entirely wasted, completely swallowed up, so
to speak."
"What, monsieur, can it be you that I hear speaking of my political
talents when you have never neglected an opportunity to sneer at them?"
"A 'Woman's Hatred,' my dear baron, a 'Woman's Hatred'!"
And as M. de la Rochaigue gazed at the hunchback with a bewildered air,
the latter gentleman continued:
"You know, of course, that you and I belong to the same political party,
my dear baron."
"I was not aware of that fact, monsieur; still, it should not surprise
me. Persons of exalted rank are inevitably the born, immutable, and
unwavering advocates, champions, and representatives of the traditions
of the past."
"And it is for this very reason that I am so bitterly opposed to your
holding a seat in the Chamber of Peers, my dear baron."
"You amaze me greatly, infinitely, prodigiously, monsieur," said the
baron, hanging upon his visitor's words with breathless eagerness now.
"Can it be that M. de la Rochaigue is really so blind, or that this
mistake is due to bad advisers? I have said to myself again and again.
He must, with reason, desire to bring about a return to the traditions
of the past, and there cannot be the slightest doubt that he possesses
many of the requisites to effect such a consummation: birth, talents, an
extended knowledge of political affairs, and antecedents entirely free
of any troublesome entanglements--"
When this enumeration of his political qualifications began, M. de la
Rochaigue might have been seen to smile almost imperceptibly, but when
the hunchback paused to take breath, the baron's long teeth were exposed
to view.
Noting this sure sign of internal satisfaction, the marquis continued:
"And where does the baron propose to bury all these talents? In the
Upper Chamber, which is already filled to overflowing with members of
the aristocracy. What will be the result? Why, in spite of his talents,
this unfortunate baron will be completely swallowed up in this
overwhelming majority. He will necessarily, too, be regarded as a mere
dummy or tool, as he will owe his political position to party favour,
and his energetic plainness of speech as well as the--the--pray give me
the word, baron--the ardour of his impassioned oratory will be hampered
by personal obligations."
"But why do you tell me all this at this late day, monsieur?" exclaimed
the baron, in tones of heartfelt reproach.
But the marquis, without giving any sign of having heard the baron's
question, continued:
"How different it would be if this unfortunate baron began his political
career in the Chamber of Deputies! He would not enter that body by
favour, but by a public election--by the will of the people. Under these
circumstances, how forcible the words of this energetic and faithful
representative of the traditions of the past would become! It could not
be said of him: 'Your opinion is that of the favoured class to which you
belong.' Far from it, for the baron could reply, and justly: 'No, my
views are the views of the nation, as it is the nation that sent me
here.'"
"What you say is true, perfectly true, monsieur, but why did you defer
telling me so long?"
"Why, baron? Why, because you manifested such a deep distrust and such
an intense antipathy to me."
"On the contrary, it was you, marquis, who seemed to pursue me with
relentless cruelty."
"Very possibly, for I was continually saying to myself: 'Ah, if the
baron is so blind as to neglect the opportunity to play such a
magnificent role, he shall bear the penalty of it. I will give him no
peace.' Nor have I; but when the time came to prevent you from
committing such a fatal blunder--I did it."
"But marquis, permit me to say--"
"You do not belong to yourself, monsieur, you belong to your party, and
the injury you do yourself will reflect upon the other members of your
party. You are consequently an egotist, a heartless--"
"One word, monsieur, one word."
"Ambitious man who prefers to owe his position to political favour
rather than to a public election."
"You talk very lightly of a public election, monsieur. Do you believe
that a seat in either political body can be secured so easily, no matter
how well fitted the person may be to fill such a position? (In speaking
in this way of myself, I am only repeating your words, remember.) You
may not be aware that I have been trying to secure a seat in the Chamber
of Peers ten years, monsieur."
"Nonsense! You could be a deputy in less than a month if you chose."
"I?"
"Yes, you, Baron de la Rochaigue."
"I, a deputy! That would be magnificent, marquis, for you have opened my
eyes to the vast, immense, infinite field of labour that would lie
before me. But how could I secure an election?"
"It so happens that the electors of the district where my estates are
situated desire to confer the honour of representing them upon me."
"You, M. le marquis?"
"Yes, I! Just imagine what an idea people will form of those worthy
fellows down there from their representative. People will fancy when
they see me that I am the envoy of a colony founded by Punchinello."
This lively sally excited considerable hilarity on the part of the
baron, who manifested it as usual by displaying his long teeth several
times.
"If my district was located in a mountainous country, there might be
some sense in my election," continued the marquis, indicating his hump
by a laughing gesture, to keep the baron in good humour, doubtless.
"Really, marquis," exclaimed M. de la Rochaigue, much amused, "you
certainly do the honours of yourself with wonderful grace and wit."
"Then shout, 'Long live my hump!' my dear baron, for you little know
what you--no, our party--will perhaps owe to it!"
"I--our party--owe anything to your--" the baron hesitated--"to your--to
your gibbosity."
"Gibbosity is a remarkably well chosen word, baron. You were evidently
born for the tribune, and, as I said before, you can be a deputy in less
than a month if you choose."
"Once more may I beg you to explain, marquis."
"Nothing could be simpler. Be a deputy in my stead."
"You are jesting."
"Not at all. I should only make the Chamber laugh. You will hold it
captive by your eloquence, and our party will consequently be much the
gainer by the change. I will introduce you to three or four delegates
who have been chosen by my constituents, and who really control the
elections down there, and I am sure I shall have little or no difficulty
in persuading them to accept you in my stead. I will write to them this
afternoon; day after to-morrow they will be here, and by the following
day everything will be settled."
"Really, marquis, I scarcely know whether I am awake or dreaming. You,
whom I have hitherto regarded as a bitter enemy--"
"Only a 'Woman's Hatred,' you know--or, if you like it better, the
'Hatred of a Political Friend.'"
"It seems inconceivable."
"So even as I ruined your absurd plans for securing a peerage at the
same time that I prevented you from marrying your ward to an
unprincipled scoundrel, I now propose to make you a deputy, and at the
same time secure your consent to her marriage with a worthy young man
who loves her, and whom she loves in return."
On hearing this announcement, M. de la Rochaigue moved uneasily in his
chair, cast a suspicious look at the marquis, and answered, coldly:
"I have been your dupe, I see, M. le marquis; I fell into the trap like
a fool."
"What trap, my dear baron?"
"Your pretended anger at the course my political aspirations had taken,
your flattery, your proposal to make me a deputy in your stead, all
conceal an ulterior motive. Fortunately, I divine it--I unmask it--I
unveil it."
"You are sure to become Minister of Foreign Affairs, baron, if you
manifest like perspicuity in political matters."
"A truce to pleasantries, monsieur."
"So be it, monsieur. You must believe one of two things: I am either
mocking you by pretending to take your political aspirations seriously,
or else I really see in you the stuff from which statesmen are made. It
is for you to decide which of these hypotheses is the correct one. Now,
to state the case simply but clearly, your ward has made an admirable
choice, as I will prove to you. Consent to this marriage, and I will
have you elected deputy. That is the bright side of the medal."
"Ah, there are two sides?" sneered the baron.
"Naturally. I have shown you the good side; this is the bad: You and
your wife and sister have grossly abused the trust confided to you--"
"Monsieur--"
"Oh, I can prove it. All three of you have either favoured or been
personally mixed up in the most abominable intrigues, of which Mlle. de
Beaumesnil was to be the victim. I repeat that I have abundant proofs of
this fact, and Mlle. de Beaumesnil herself will unite with me in
exposing these nefarious schemes."
"And to whom do you propose to denounce us, if you please?"
"To the members of the family council which Mlle. de Beaumesnil will
convoke at once. You can guess what the result of such a proceeding will
be. Your appointment as guardian will be annulled, forthwith."
"We will see about that! We will see about that, monsieur!"
"You will certainly have an admirable chance to see about it. Now
choose. Consent to this marriage and you are a deputy. Refuse your
consent, there will be a frightful scandal; you will be deprived of your
guardianship, and all your ambitious hopes will be blighted for ever!"
"Ah, you censure me for having desired to marry my ward in a way that
might benefit me personally, and yet you--you propose to do the same
thing you censure me for, yourself."
"There is not the slightest justice in your comparison, my dear sir. You
were trying to marry your ward to a scoundrel; I want to marry her to an
honourable man, and I offer you a certain price for your consent,
because you have proved to me that it is necessary to give a certain
price for your consent."
"And why, if the person you have selected for Mlle. de Beaumesnil is a
suitable person?"
"The husband I have suggested, and that Mlle. de Beaumesnil desires, is
a perfectly honourable man--"
"And his fortune, social position, etc.,--these are all that can be
desired, I suppose."
"He is a lieutenant in the army, without either name or fortune, but he
is one of the bravest and most honest men I know. He loves Ernestine,
and she loves him in return. What objection have you to offer?"
"What objection have I to offer? A mere nobody, whose only possessions
are his cloak and sword, marry the richest heiress in France! Never. Do
you hear me? Never will I consent to such an unequal marriage! M. de
Mornand at least had a fair prospect of becoming a minister, an
ambassador, or president of the Chamber, monsieur."
"So you see, baron, I was very wise to offer you a handsome price for
your consent."
"But according to you, monsieur, in thus allowing myself to be
influenced by motives of personal aggrandisement, I should be acting
very--"
"Disgracefully. Still, that does not matter, provided Ernestine's
happiness can be assured."
"And it is a person capable of an act you consider so dishonourable that
you dare to propose to the electors of your district as their
representative!" exclaimed the baron, triumphantly. "You would so abuse
their confidence as to give them, as a representative of our party, a
man who--"
"In the first place, the electors in question are a parcel of fools, my
dear sir; besides, I do not interfere with their right of suffrage in
the least. They imagine, because I am a marquis, that I should be just
as fanatical a partisan of church and throne as their late deputy. They
even told me that, in case of my refusal, they should consider it a
favour if I would designate some other suitable person. I offer them as
a candidate a man of their own party, perfectly capable of representing
them. (It is not very high praise, my dear baron, to say that you are
at least as gifted a man as their deceased deputy.) The rest is for you
to decide, for I need not tell you that I was only jesting a few minutes
ago when I said that your political sentiments and mine were identical.
It was merely a means of paving the way to the offer which I have made,
and which I reiterate. And now, you will, perhaps, ask me why, if I feel
confident of my ability to compel you to resign your guardianship of
Mlle. de Beaumesnil, I do not do it."
"I should like to ask you that very plain question, monsieur," responded
the baron.
"My explanation will be very simple, my dear sir. It is because I do not
believe there is, among the other persons to whom this guardianship is
likely to be entrusted, any man with sense and heart enough to
understand why the richest heiress in France might be permitted to marry
a brave and honourable man without either rank or fortune. So, as I
should have the same difficulty to contend with in another guardian, but
not have the same effectual means of coercing him, perhaps, such a
change might injure rather than aid my plans, besides ruining you
irretrievably. Now reflect, and make your choice. I shall expect to see
you at my house to-morrow morning, not later than ten o'clock."
And the marquis departed, leaving M. de la Rochaigue in a state of
painful perplexity.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AN UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER.
Three days had elapsed since M. de Maillefort's interviews with Madame
de Senneterre and M. de la Rochaigue, and Herminie, alone in her pretty
room, seemed a prey to the keenest anxiety; for every now and then she
cast an impatient glance at the clock, or started at the slightest
sound, or turned hastily towards the door.
In fact, one could discern in the face of the duchess an anxiety fully
equal to that which she had experienced some time before, while in
momentary expectation of the much dreaded M. Bouffard's coming.
And yet it was not a visit from M. Bouffard, but from M. de Maillefort,
that caused the girl's agitation.
The flowers in the pretty little room had just been renewed, and the
muslin curtains at the windows that overlooked the garden had been
freshly laundered. These windows were open, but the green outside
shutters were closed to keep out the glare.
After setting her house in order with scrupulous care, the duchess had
evidently made an unusually careful toilet, for she had donned her best
dress, a high-necked, black levantine, with chemisette and sleeves of
dazzling whiteness. Her sole ornament was her magnificent hair, which
gleamed like burnished gold in the sun-light, but never had her beauty
seemed more noble and touching in its character, for, for some time
past, her face had been paler, though her complexion had lost none of
its dazzling clearness.
The duchess had just given another quick glance at the door, when she
fancied she heard a footstep outside, near the window that overlooked
the garden, and she was about to rise and satisfy her doubts, when the
door opened, and Madame Moufflon ushered in M. de Maillefort.
That gentleman was hardly in the room, however, before he turned and
said to the portress:
"A lady will come and ask to see Mlle. Herminie, in a few moments--you
will admit her."
"Yes, monsieur," replied Madame Moufflon, deferentially, as she took her
departure.
On hearing the words, "A lady will come and ask to see Mlle. Herminie,"
the girl sprang forward hastily, exclaiming:
"_Mon Dieu!_ M. le marquis,--this lady--whom you expect--?"
"Is she!" replied the marquis, radiant with joy and hope. "Yes, she is
coming at last!"
Then, seeing Herminie turn as pale as death and tremble violently in
every limb, the hunchback cried:
"What is the matter, my child? Tell me, what is the matter?"
"Ah, monsieur," said the duchess, faintly, "I don't know why, but now,
oh, I feel so afraid!"
"Afraid! when Madame de Senneterre has pledged herself to make the
concession which you were very right to ask, but which you had little
hope that she would ever grant!"
"Alas! monsieur, now, for the first time, I seem to understand the
temerity, the impropriety, perhaps, of my demand."
"My dear child," exclaimed the hunchback, anxiously, "no weakness, I
beg, or you will lose all. Be your own noble, charming self, the
personification of modesty without humility, and of dignity without
arrogance, and all will be well,--I trust."
"Ah, monsieur, when you told me yesterday that there was a possibility
of this visit from Madame de Senneterre, I thought my cup of joy would
be filled to overflowing, if this hope should be realised, and now I
feel only the most abject terror and alarm."
"Here she comes! Summon up all your courage, my child, for God's sake,
and think of Gerald!" exclaimed the hunchback, hearing a carriage stop
at the door.
"Oh, monsieur, have pity on me," murmured the duchess, clutching M. de
Maillefort's hand convulsively. "Oh, I shall never dare--"
"Poor child! she is going to ruin her prospects, I fear," thought the
marquis.
Almost at that very instant the door opened, and Madame de Senneterre
entered.
She was a tall and slender woman, with an exceedingly haughty manner,
and she came into the room with head high in the air, an insolent gleam
in her eyes, and a disdainful smile upon her lips. She had an unusually
high colour, and seemed to find it difficult to control her feelings.
The fact is, Madame de Senneterre was violently agitated by conflicting
emotions. This ridiculously proud and arrogant woman had left her home
firmly resolved to make the concession towards Herminie which M. de
Maillefort demanded, and in return for which he had promised to adopt
the young girl.
Madame de Senneterre had consequently resolved that during this visit,
which cost her pride so much, her demeanour should be scrupulously,
though coldly, polite; but as the moment for the interview approached,
and as this arrogant woman reflected that she, the Duchesse de
Senneterre, was about to present herself as a petitioner at the home of
an obscure young girl, who worked for her living, the implacable pride
of the grande dame revolted at the thought. Anger filled her heart, she
lost her head, and, forgetting the advantages her son would derive from
this marriage, forgetting that, after all, it was the adopted daughter
of the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel she was about to visit, and not the
poor music teacher, Madame de Senneterre reached Herminie's home with no
intention of adopting any conciliatory measures, but resolved to treat
this insolent creature, who had been so audacious in her pretensions, as
she deserved to be treated.
On seeing the haughtiness, aggressiveness, and anger so legibly
imprinted on Madame de Senneterre's features, the marquis, no less
surprised than alarmed, understood the sudden change which had taken
place in the intentions of Gerald's mother, and said to himself,
despairingly:
"All is lost!"
As for Herminie, she did not seem to have a drop of blood in her veins.
Her beautiful face had become frightfully pale; her lips, which were
almost blue, trembled convulsively; it seemed impossible for her to
raise her eyes--in fact, she seemed unable to make the slightest
movement, or even to utter a word.
In spite of the high terms in which M. de Maillefort had spoken of this
young girl whom he esteemed so highly as to be willing to give her his
name, Madame de Senneterre, too insufferably proud as well as
opinionated to concede that Herminie's conduct might have been prompted
solely by a sense of dignity, had expected to find herself confronted by
a vain, pert, rather coarse, ill-bred girl, proud of her conquest, and
resolved to make the most of it; so, as Gerald's mother, she had armed
herself with the most insulting disdain and arrogance of manner.
She was consequently both astonished and discomfited at the sight of
this charming but timid creature, of such rare loveliness and wonderful
distinction of manner, who, instead of giving herself any impertinent
airs, did not even dare to raise her eyes, and seemed more dead than
alive in the presence of the great lady from whom she had exacted this
visit.
"Good Heavens, how beautiful she is!" Madame de Senneterre said to
herself, with a strange mixture of spitefulness and involuntary
admiration. "What a refined and distinguished looking young woman this
poor, obscure music teacher is! It is simply marvellous! My own
daughters are not to be compared with her."
Though it has taken some time to describe these conflicting sentiments
in the heart of Madame de Senneterre, their coming and going had been
well-nigh simultaneous, and only a few seconds had elapsed after her
entrance into the room before, blushing for the sort of embarrassment
and dismay that she had at first experienced, she broke the silence by
demanding in haughty, supercilious tones:
"Mlle. Herminie, is she here?"
"I am she, madame la duchesse," faltered Herminie, while M. de
Maillefort stood watching the scene with growing anxiety.
"Mlle. Herminie--the music teacher?" repeated Madame de Senneterre, with
a contemptuous emphasis on the last word. "You are that young person, I
suppose."
"Yes, madame la duchesse," replied the poor girl, trembling like a leaf,
and without venturing to raise her eyes.
"Well, mademoiselle, you are satisfied, I trust? You have had the
audacity to insist that I should come here, and here I am."
"I felt constrained--madame la duchesse--to solicit the
honour--that--that--"
"Indeed! And what right have you to presume to make this insolent
demand?"
"Madame!" exclaimed the hunchback, threateningly.
But as Madame de Senneterre uttered these last insulting words,
Herminie, who had seemed so terrified, so utterly crushed until then,
lifted her head proudly, a slight tinge of colour suffused her cheeks,
and, raising her large blue eyes for the first time to the face of
Gerald's mother, she replied in firm though gentle tones:
"I have never felt that I had the right to expect even the slightest
mark of deference from you, madame. On the contrary, I only desired
to--to testify the respect that I felt for your authority, madame, by
declaring to M. de Senneterre that I could not and would not accept his
hand without his mother's consent."
"And I--a person of my age and position--must humiliate myself by making
the first advances to mademoiselle?"
"I am an orphan, madame, without a relative in the world. I could
designate no one else for you to approach on the subject, and my dignity
would not permit me to go to you and solicit--"
"Your dignity,--this is really very amusing!" exclaimed Madame de
Senneterre, infuriated at finding herself obliged to acknowledge the
charming reserve and perfect dignity of the girl's demeanour under such
very trying circumstances. "Could anything be more extraordinary?" she
continued, with a sarcastic laugh. "Mademoiselle has her dignity."
"I have the dignity of virtue, poverty, and honest toil, madame la
duchesse," replied Herminie, looking Madame de Senneterre full in the
face, this time with such an unflinching, noble air that Gerald's mother
became embarrassed and was obliged to avert her eyes.
For several minutes the marquis had found it very difficult to restrain
his desire to punish Madame de Senneterre for her insolence to his
protegee, but on hearing Herminie's simple but noble reply, he thought
her sufficiently avenged.
"So be it, then," responded Madame de Senneterre, in a rather less
bitter tone. "You have your dignity, but you can hardly think that for a
person to be able to enter one of the most illustrious families in
France it is enough for that person to be honest, virtuous and
industrious."
"But I do think so, madame."
"You are not lacking in pride, I must say," exclaimed Madame de
Senneterre, thoroughly exasperated. "Mademoiselle doubtless supposes
that by marrying M. le Duc de Senneterre she will confer a great honour
upon him, as well as upon his family."
"In responding to M. de Senneterre's affection with an affection equal
to his own, I feel that I do honour him by my preference as much as he
has honoured me. As for M. de Senneterre's family, I know, madame, that
they will never be proud of me, but I shall have the consciousness of
being worthy of them."
"Good!" exclaimed the hunchback, "good, my brave and noble child!"
Though Madame de Senneterre was making every effort to resist the
influence of Herminie's charms, she found herself gradually yielding to
it in spite of herself.
The beauty, grace, and exquisite tact of this charming creature exerted
a sort of fascination over Gerald's mother, so, fearing she might
succumb to it, she resolved to end all temptation to do so by burning
her ships behind her, or, in other words, by again resorting to
vituperation, so she exclaimed, wrathfully:
"No, no, it shall never be said that I allowed myself to be cajoled by
the charms and perfidious words of a mere adventuress, and that I was
fool enough to give my consent to her marriage with my son."
The hunchback sprang forward with a terrible look at Madame de
Senneterre, but, before he could utter a word, Herminie replied, in
faltering tones, while big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks:
"Pardon me, madame. Insult finds me speechless and defenceless,
especially when it is M. de Senneterre's mother that insults. I have but
one favour to ask of you, madame. It is to remember that I not only
anticipated this refusal, but accepted it in advance, so it would have
been more generous in you not to have come here to crush me with it.
What was my crime, madame? Simply to have believed that M. de
Senneterre's station in life was as obscure and laborious as my own. But
for that, I would have died rather than yielded to such a love."
"What!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "you did not know that my son--"
"M. de Senneterre represented himself to be a man who was obliged to
labour hard for his daily bread. I believed him; I loved him,--loved him
truly and disinterestedly. When I discovered who he really was, I
refused to see him again, for I was resolved that I would never marry
him against the wishes of his family. That, madame, is the truth, and
the whole truth," added Herminie, in a voice broken with sobs. "This
love, for which, thank God, I shall never have to blush, must be
sacrificed. I expected it, but I believed I had the right to suffer
without the presence of witnesses. I forgive your cruel words, madame.
You are a mother, you did not know, perhaps, that I was worthy of your
son,--and maternal love is sacred, even if it be in the wrong."
Herminie dried the tears that were streaming down her pale face, then
continued, in a weak and faltering voice, for, overcome by this painful
scene, she felt that her strength was fast failing her:
"Will you have the goodness to say to M. de Senneterre, madame, that I
forgive him the wrong he has, unconsciously, done me. Here, before
you--you--his mother--I swear that--I will never see him again,--and you
need have no fear of my breaking my word. So, madame, you can leave here
reassured and content,--but--but I feel so strangely--M. de
Maillefort--come to me--I beg--come--I--"
The poor girl could say no more. Her lips fluttered feebly, and she
cast a despairing look at the hunchback, who sprang forward only just in
time to receive her almost lifeless form in his arms. He placed her
tenderly in an armchair, then, turning to Madame de Senneterre, with a
terrible expression on his face, he cried:
"Ah, you shall weep tears of blood for your cruelty here, madame. Go,
go, I tell you. Don't you see that she is dying!"
Herminie did, indeed, look as if death had claimed her for his own, with
her marble white face, and her head hanging inertly down upon one
shoulder. Her forehead, bathed in a cold sweat, was half covered with
some soft ringlets of golden hair which had escaped from their
confinement, and an occasional tear forced its way through her half
closed eyelids, while ever and anon a convulsive shudder shook her
entire body.
M. de Maillefort could not restrain his tears, and, turning to Madame de
Senneterre, he exclaimed, bitterly, in a voice hoarse with emotion: "You
are gloating over your work, are you not?"
What was the hunchback's astonishment to see compassionate grief and
keen remorse plainly imprinted upon this haughty woman's face, for,
conquered at last by Herminie's noble and touching resignation, she, in
turn, burst into tears, and said to the marquis, in beseeching tones:
"Have pity on me, M. de Maillefort I came here resolved to keep my
promise, but--but my pride revolted in spite of me. I lost my head. Now,
I repent, oh, how bitterly! I am ashamed, I am horrified at my heartless
conduct."
And, running to Herminie, the duchess tenderly lifted her head and
kissed her upon the forehead; then, twining her arms around her to
support her, said, in a voice faltering with emotion:
"Poor child! Will she ever forgive me? M. de Maillefort, ring for
assistance, call some one, her pallor terrifies me."
Just then hurried steps were heard in the hall. The door flew open, and
Gerald rushed in like one distracted, his eyes wild, his manner
threatening, for, from the garden in which he had concealed himself
without the knowledge of either Herminie or M. de Maillefort, he had
heard his mother's cruel words.
"Gerald!" cried the astonished marquis.
"I was there," the young man exclaimed, pointing to the window. "I heard
all, and--"
But the young duke did not complete the sentence, so amazed was he to
see his mother supporting Herminie's head upon her bosom.
"My son," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, "I am truly horrified at what
I have done. I consent to everything. She is an angel. May Heaven
forgive me!"
"Oh, mother, mother," murmured Gerald, in accents of ineffable
gratitude, as he fell upon his knees beside Herminie, and covered her
cold hands with tears and kisses.
"You have done wisely," the marquis said, in low tones, to Madame de
Senneterre. "It is adoration that your son will feel for you now."
That same instant, seeing Herminie make a slight movement, Gerald
exclaimed, joyfully:
"She is recovering consciousness!"
Then, in a thrilling voice, he cried:
"Herminie, it is I. It is Gerald!"
On hearing M. de Senneterre's voice, Herminie gave a slight start, then
slowly opened her eyes, which seemed at first fixed and troubled, like
the eyes of one awaking from a dream.
Then the sort of mist which seemed to obscure her mental faculties faded
away, and the girl slowly raised her head, which had been reposing on
Madame de Senneterre's bosom, and looked around her.
To her intense astonishment, she saw that Gerald's mother was supporting
her in her arms and watching her with the tenderest solicitude.
Believing she was still in a dream, Herminie hastily raised herself, and
passed her burning hands over her eyes, after which her gaze, as it
became more and more assured, was directed, first upon M. de Maillefort,
who was gazing at her with ineffable delight, and then upon Gerald, who
was still kneeling before her.
"Gerald!" she cried, rapturously.
Then, with an expression of mingled hope and fear, she hastily glanced
around at Madame de Senneterre, as if to satisfy herself that it was
indeed from Gerald's mother that she was receiving these marks of
touching interest.
Gerald, noticing the girl's movement, hastily exclaimed:
"Herminie, my mother consents to everything."
"Yes, yes, mademoiselle," exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, effusively. "I
consent to everything. There are many wrongs for which I must ask
forgiveness,--but my love and tenderness will enable me to gain it at
last."
"Can this be true, madame?" cried Herminie, clasping her hands. "Oh,
God, can it be possible! You really consent? All this is not a dream?"
"No, Herminie, it is not a dream," exclaimed Gerald, rapturously. "We
belong to each other now! You shall soon be my wife."
"No, my noble child, it is not a dream," said M. de Maillefort, "It is a
fitting reward for a life of toil and virtue."
"No, mademoiselle, it is not a dream," said Madame de Senneterre, "for
it is you," she added, casting a meaning glance at the marquis, "you,
Mlle. Herminie, who nobly support yourself by your own exertions, that I
joyfully accept as my daughter-in-law in M. de Maillefort's presence,
for I am satisfied that my son could not make a choice more worthy of
him, of me, and of his family."
* * * * *
Half an hour afterwards Madame de Senneterre and her son took an
affectionate leave of Herminie, who, in company with M. de Maillefort,
forthwith repaired to the house of Mlle. de Beaumesnil to tell her the
good news, and sustain the courage of the richest heiress in France, for
a final and formidable ordeal was in store for her, or, rather, for
Olivier.
CHAPTER XXV.
A SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE.
While M. de Senneterre was taking his mother home, Herminie and M. de
Maillefort were bowling swiftly along in the marquis's carriage on their
way to Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
The delight of the marquis and his youthful protegee, whose happiness
was now assured, can be imagined.
The marquis knew Madame de Senneterre well enough to feel sure that she
was incapable of retracting the solemn consent she had given to the
marriage of Gerald and Herminie.
Nevertheless, M. de Maillefort resolved to call on Madame de Senneterre
the following morning, and assure her that he had not changed his
intention of adopting Herminie, who was dearer to him than ever, if that
were possible, since he had witnessed her noble and touching behaviour
during her interview with the haughty Duchesse de Senneterre.
M. de Maillefort's only fear now was that the proud and sensitive girl
might refuse to accept the advantages he was so anxious to confer upon
her; but almost sure that he would succeed in overcoming her scruples
eventually, he resolved to maintain an absolute silence concerning his
intentions for the present.
M. de Maillefort and his companion had been driving along for several
minutes, when a block of vehicles at the corner of the Rue de Courcelles
obliged their driver to check his horses for an instant.
There was a locksmith's shop on the corner of this street, and the
hunchback, who had put his head out of the carriage window to ascertain
the cause of the sudden stop, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and,
hastily drawing in his head, muttered:
"What can that man be doing there?"
As was natural, Herminie's eyes quickly followed those of the hunchback,
and she could not repress a movement of disgust and aversion which M. de
Maillefort failed to notice, however, for almost at the same instant he
lowered the curtain of the window nearest him.
By drawing this small silken curtain a little aside, the marquis could
see without being seen, and through the tiny opening he seemed to be
watching something or somebody with considerable uneasiness, while
Herminie, not daring to question him, gazed at him wonderingly.
The marquis had caught sight of M. de Ravil in the locksmith's shop, and
he could still see him talking with the locksmith,--a man with a kind,
honest face. He was showing him a key, and evidently giving him some
instructions in regard to it, for, taking the key, the locksmith placed
it in his vice just as M. de Maillefort's carriage again started on its
way towards the Faubourg St. Germain, and M. de Macreuse's new friend,
or, rather, his new accomplice, was lost to sight.
"What is the matter, monsieur?" inquired Herminie, seeing that the
hunchback had suddenly become thoughtful.
"I just observed an apparently insignificant thing, my dear child, but
it makes me a trifle uneasy. I saw a man in a locksmith's shop just now,
showing the locksmith a key. I should not even have noticed the fact,
though, if I did not know that the man who had the key was a scoundrel,
capable of anything, and under certain circumstances the slightest act
of a man like that furnishes food for reflection."
"Is the man you refer to unusually tall, and has he a bad, hard face?"
"So you, too, noticed him?"
"I have had only too much cause to do so, monsieur."
"Explain, my dear child."
So Herminie briefly related Ravil's many futile attempts to obtain
access to her since the evening he so grossly insulted her while on her
way to Madame de Beaumesnil's.
"If the scoundrel is in the habit of hanging around your house, my dear
child, it is not so surprising that we should have seen him in a shop in
this part of the town. Still, what can have taken him to this
locksmith's?" asked the hunchback, thoughtfully. "Since he became so
intimate with that rascal, Macreuse, I have been keeping a close watch
on both of them. One of my men is shadowing them, for such creatures as
they are are never more dangerous than when they are playing dead,--not
that I fear them myself; oh, no, but I do fear for Ernestine."
"For Ernestine?" asked the duchess, with quite as much surprise as
uneasiness. "What can she have to fear from creatures like these?"
"You do not know, my dear child, that this Ravil was the most zealous
aider and abettor of one of the suitors for Ernestine's hand. Macreuse,
too, made equally nefarious attempts to secure this tempting prey. As I
unmasked them both in public, I fear that their resentment will fall
upon Ernestine, especially as their rage, on finding that they will not
be able to make the poor child their victim, is so venomous; but I am
watching them closely, and this visit of Ravil to the locksmith--though
I cannot imagine the motive of it now--will make me redouble my
vigilance."
"But you can hardly imagine that this visit would affect Ernestine in
any way."
"I am not at all sure that it does, my dear child, but I think it
strange that De Ravil should take the trouble to seek out a locksmith in
this remote part of the town. But let us say no more about it. Such
scoundrels as those two men are should not be allowed to mar pure and
richly deserved happiness. My task is only half completed. Your
happiness is assured, my child, and now I trust this may prove an
equally fortunate day for Ernestine. Here we are at last. Find her and
tell her of your happiness while I go up to the baron's apartments. I
have a few words to say to him, after which I will rejoin you in
Ernestine's rooms."
"Did I not hear you say something in regard to a final test?"
"Yes, my dear child."
"Does it relate to M. Olivier?"
"Yes, and if he sustains the ordeal bravely and nobly, as I am sure he
will, Ernestine will have no cause to envy you your felicity."
"And did Ernestine consent to this test, monsieur?"
"Yes, my child, for it would not only serve to establish the nobility of
Olivier's sentiments beyond a doubt, but also remove any scruples he
might feel about marrying Ernestine when he discovers that the little
embroideress is the richest heiress in France."
"Alas! monsieur, it is on that point I feel the greatest misgivings. M.
Olivier is so extremely sensitive in regard to all money matters, Gerald
says."
"And for that very reason I gave my poor brain no rest until I had
found, or at least fancied I had found, a means of escape from this
danger. I can not explain any further now, but you will soon know all."
Meanwhile the carriage had paused in front of the Rochaigue mansion. The
footman opened the door, and while Herminie hastened to Mlle. de
Beaumesnil's apartments the hunchback went up to the baron's study,
where he found that gentleman evidently expecting him, for he promptly
advanced to meet him, displaying his long teeth with the most satisfied
air imaginable.
The fact is, M. de la Rochaigue, after reflecting on the marquis's
offers,--and threats,--had decided to accept a proposal that would
enable him to gratify his political ambition at last, and had
consequently given his consent to this marriage under certain conditions
that seemed incomprehensible to him,--M. de Maillefort not having deemed
it advisable to inform the baron of the double character Mlle. de
Beaumesnil had been playing.
"Well, my dear baron, has everything been satisfactorily arranged?"
inquired the hunchback.
"Yes, my dear marquis. The interview is to take place here in my study,
and, as this room is separated from the adjoining room only by a
portiere, everything that is said can be distinctly heard in there."
The marquis examined the two rooms for himself and then returned to M.
de la Rochaigue.
"This arrangement will suit perfectly, my dear baron. But tell me, did
the inquiries you made in relation to M. Olivier Raymond prove entirely
satisfactory?"
"I called on his old colonel in the African army this morning, and M. de
Berville spoke of him in the highest possible terms."
"I was sure that he would, my dear baron, but I wished you to satisfy
yourself, and from several different sources, of my protege's
irreproachable character."
"He possesses neither wealth nor rank, unfortunately," responded the
baron, with a sigh, "but there doesn't seem to be the slightest doubt
that he is an exceedingly honest and worthy young man."
"And what you have heard about him is nothing in comparison with what
you will soon discover for yourself."
"What! is there still another mystery in store for me, my dear marquis?"
"Have a little patience, and an hour from now you will know all. By the
way, I hope you haven't said a word to your wife or sister in regard to
our plans?"
"How can you ask me such a question, my dear marquis? Am I not longing
to have my revenge upon Helena and the baroness? Think of their
deceiving me as they did! Each of them plotting to bring about a
marriage between my ward and one of their proteges, and making me play
the most ridiculous role. Ah, it will at least be some consolation to
outwit them in my turn."
"No weakness, though, baron. Your wife openly boasts that she can make
you do exactly as she pleases,--that she leads you around by the nose,
in short,--excuse the expression."
"Well, well, we shall see! So she leads me around by the nose, does
she?"
"I think we shall have to admit that she has, in days gone by."
"I admit nothing of the kind."
"But now you are a statesman, any such weakness would be unpardonable,
for you no longer belong to yourself, and, apropos of this, did you see
our delegates again?"
"We had another conference last evening. I talked to them two hours on
the subject of an alliance with England."
The baron rose, and slipping his left hand in the bosom of his coat, and
assuming his usual oratorical attitude, continued:
"I subsequently gave them my views upon the importation of horned
cattle, and briefly expounded the principles of religious liberty as
practised in Belgium; and I must admit that your electors seemed much
pleased, to say the least."
"I don't doubt it. You must suit them wonderfully well. I am doing them
a signal service, for they will find in you--all that is lacking in
me."
"You are entirely too modest, my dear marquis."
"Quite the contrary, my dear baron; so as soon as Olivier's and
Ernestine's marriage contract is signed, I shall resign my candidacy in
your favour."
A servant, entering at this moment, announced that M. Olivier Raymond
wished to see M. de la Rochaigue.
"Ask M. Raymond to wait a moment," replied the baron, and the servant
left the room.
"Now, baron, remember that this is a very important, as well as
delicate, matter," said the marquis. "Do not forget any of my
instructions, and, above all, do not evince any surprise at M. Raymond's
answers, no matter how extraordinary they may appear. I will explain
everything after your interview with him is over."
"It will be comparatively easy for me to show no surprise at anything I
see or hear, marquis, inasmuch as I am very much in the dark with regard
to the whole affair myself."
"You will be thoroughly enlightened soon, I tell you. But, by the way,
be sure not to forget about the work M. Olivier did for the steward of
the Chateau de Beaumesnil, near Luzarches."
"I shall not forget that, for I intend to introduce the subject in that
way; and permit me to say that I am to start out with a colossal lie, my
dear marquis."
"But, as this colossal lie is sure to bring out the truth in the most
incontrovertible fashion, you need feel no scruples! You will certainly
have no cause to regret it, either, for what is about to occur will be
quite as much to your advantage as to that of Mlle. de Beaumesnil,
perhaps. I am going to summon her now, and do not have M. Olivier
ushered in until after you know that we are in the next room, remember."
"Oh, I understand all about that. Go at once, my dear marquis, and use
the back stairs. It is the shortest way, and M. Olivier, who is waiting
in the library, will not see you."
The marquis complied with these instructions, and soon found himself in
Mlle. de Beaumesnil's apartments.
"Ah, M. de Maillefort," exclaimed Ernestine, her face radiant, and her
eyes still filled with tears of joy, "Herminie has told me all. Her
happiness seems certain to equal mine,--if mine is realised."
"Come quick, my child," exclaimed the hunchback. "M. Olivier is
up-stairs now."
"Herminie can accompany me, can she not, M. de Maillefort? She will be
near me to keep up my courage--"
"Your courage?"
"Yes, for now I confess that, in spite of myself, I am sorry that I
consented to this test."
"But was not this test necessary to overcome Olivier's scruples, my dear
child? Remember, too, that these scruples are probably the most
dangerous obstacles you will have to overcome now."
"Alas! that is only too true," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, sadly.
"Then come, my child, come at once. Herminie shall accompany you. She
must be the first to congratulate you."
"Or to console me," added Ernestine, unable to conquer her fears. "But
it is better I should know my fate as soon as possible," she continued,
resolutely. "Let us go up to my guardian's apartments at once, M. de
Maillefort."
Three minutes afterwards, Ernestine, Herminie, and M. de Maillefort were
in the baron's parlour, which was separated from his study only by a
closely drawn portiere, which the hunchback opened a little way in order
to inform M. de la Rochaigue that they were there.
"Very well," replied the baron.
He rang the bell.
"Show M. Olivier Raymond in," he said to the servant who answered the
summons, and who almost immediately announced:
"M. Olivier Raymond, sir."
On hearing Olivier enter the adjoining room, Ernestine turned as pale as
death, and, seizing with one hand the hand of Herminie, and with the
other the hand of M. de Maillefort, she whispered, tremblingly:
"Oh, stay close by me, I entreat you. Do not leave me. Oh, my God, what
a solemn moment this is!"
"Hush! Olivier is speaking," whispered M. de Maillefort; "let us listen.
We must not miss a word."
And all three listened, with breathless anxiety, to the following
conversation between Olivier and M. de la Rochaigue.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A CRUCIAL MOMENT.
When Olivier Raymond entered M. de la Rochaigue's study, his face
expressed astonishment, mingled with a lively curiosity.
The baron bowed courteously, and, after having motioned his visitor to a
seat, inquired:
"Is it to M. Olivier Raymond that I have the honour of speaking?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"A second lieutenant in the Third Hussars?"
"The same, monsieur."
"From the letter I had the honour to write you, monsieur, you know that
I am--"
"M. le Baron de la Rochaigue, monsieur, though I have not the honour of
your acquaintance. May I now inquire to what important personal matter
you referred in your recent letter?"
"Certainly, monsieur. Pray be kind enough to give me your close
attention, and, above all, not to be surprised at any singular, strange,
and extraordinary facts which I may have the honour to communicate."
Olivier gazed at the baron with such evident astonishment that Mlle. de
Beaumesnil's guardian cast an involuntary glance towards the portiere,
behind which Herminie, Ernestine, and M. de Maillefort were listening to
the conversation.
"Monsieur," continued the baron, again turning to Olivier, "a few weeks
ago you were at a chateau, near Luzarches, assisting a master mason,
who had undertaken some repairs upon this property, in making his
estimates."
"That is true, monsieur," replied Olivier, little suspecting the import
of all this.
"After these estimates were finished, you remained several days to
assist the steward in straightening up his accounts, did you not?"
"That is also true, monsieur."
"This chateau," resumed the baron, with an air of great importance,
"belongs to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the richest heiress in France."
"I was so informed during my stay there. But may I know the object of
these questions?"
"In one moment, monsieur; but will you first oblige me by glancing over
this document?"
And the baron took from his desk a folded paper and handed it to
Olivier.
While the young man was hastily perusing this document, the baron said:
"You will see by this document, which is a certified copy of the
deliberations of the family council, convoked after the death of the
late Comtesse de Beaumesnil, you will see, I repeat, from this document,
that I am the legally appointed guardian and trustee of Mlle. de
Beaumesnil."
"I perceive so," replied Olivier, returning the document, "but I fail to
see that this fact interests me in any way."
"It was of the utmost importance that you should be enlightened as to my
legal, official, and judicial connection with Mlle. de Beaumesnil, in
order that what I may have the honour to say to you on the subject of my
ward will be invested with irresistible, unmistakable, and incontestable
authority in your eyes."
This flow of words, monotonous and measured as the movements of a
pendulum, was beginning to make Olivier all the more impatient, as he
could not imagine whither all these grave preliminaries were tending.
In fact, he gazed at the baron with such a bewildered air that M. de la
Rochaigue said to himself:
"One might really suppose that I was talking Hebrew to him. He evinces
so little emotion on hearing the name of Mlle. de Beaumesnil that one
would suppose he did not even know her. What does all this mean? That
cunning devil of a marquis was right when he told me that I must be
prepared for very surprising developments."
"May I again inquire in what possible way the fact that you are, or are
not, Mlle. de Beaumesnil's guardian interests me?" said Olivier, with
ill-suppressed impatience.
"Now for the lie," the baron said to himself. "Let us see what effect it
will have."
Then he added aloud:
"You made quite a long stay at the Chateau de Beaumesnil?"
"I did, as I told you some time ago," responded Olivier, with growing
impatience.
"You probably were not aware that Mlle. de Beaumesnil was at the chateau
at the same time that you were."
"Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"Yes, monsieur," replied the baron, imperturbably, satisfied that he was
lying with true diplomatic ease and assurance; "yes, monsieur, Mlle. de
Beaumesnil was at the chateau while you were there."
"But I was told that the young lady was in a foreign country, monsieur;
besides, I saw no one at the chateau."
"That does not surprise me at all, monsieur. The fact is, Mlle. de
Beaumesnil wished to spend the early days of her mourning for her mother
at this chateau, and as she desired complete solitude, every one on the
estate was requested to keep her arrival a profound secret."
"Then it is not strange that I should have been ignorant of it,
particularly as I stayed in the house of the steward, quite a little
distance from the chateau. But once more, let me ask--"
"I beg you will not be impatient, monsieur, but listen to me with the
closest attention, for the matter to be considered is, I repeat, of the
greatest, gravest, and highest importance to you."
"The man nearly drives me mad by his absurd and senseless repetitions!"
Olivier mentally exclaimed. "What on earth is he driving at? What
possible interest have I in Mlle. de Beaumesnil and her chateau?"
"The master mason by whom you were employed," continued the baron,
suavely, "told our steward that the proceeds of the labour you imposed
upon yourself during your leave were to be devoted to aiding your uncle,
for whom you felt an almost filial affection."
"Good Heavens, monsieur, why should any importance be attached to such a
trivial thing as that? Let us get at the facts of the case."
"The fact is just this, monsieur," resumed the baron, impressively, and
with an almost solemn gesture, "your generous conduct towards your uncle
was reported to Mlle. de Beaumesnil by her steward."
"Well, what if it was!" exclaimed Olivier, whose patience was now
completely exhausted. "What is your object in apprising me of the fact?"
"My object is to let you know that mademoiselle is one of the noblest,
best-hearted young ladies in the world, and, being such, is more keenly
appreciative of generous acts in others than the majority of people; so
when she heard of your devotion to your uncle, she was so touched by it
that she desired to see you."
"See me?" repeated Olivier, incredulously.
"Yes, monsieur, my ward wished to see you, but without being seen by
you; she was anxious, too, to hear you talk, and, with the aid of her
steward, managed to act the part of an unseen auditor at several of your
conversations, both with the steward and the master mason by whom you
were employed. The strict integrity and nobility of your sentiments were
so clearly revealed in these conversations, that my ward was as deeply
impressed by your nobility of character as by your pleasing personal
attributes, and--"
"Monsieur," interrupted Olivier, turning crimson, "I can scarcely
believe that a man of your age and position could find any amusement in
such unseemly jesting, and yet I do not suppose for one moment that you
are speaking seriously."
"I had the honour, monsieur, to submit for your inspection the
documentary evidence that I am Mlle. de Beaumesnil's legally appointed
guardian in order that you might give full credence to my words. I
subsequently warned you that what I had to say might appear singular,
strange, even extraordinary to you, and you surely can not suppose that
a man of my age, position, and social prominence would feel any
inclination to trifle with the sacred interests entrusted to him or to
make as honourable a young man as yourself the victim of a practical
joke."
"So be it, monsieur," replied Olivier, pacified by this assurance on the
part of the baron, "I confess I was wrong to suppose, even for an
instant, that you were capable of such a thing, and yet--"
"Once again will you kindly allow me to remind you of my warning that I
had some very extraordinary things to impart," said the baron, again
interrupting Olivier. "Now, with your permission, I will proceed with my
explanation. Mlle. de Beaumesnil is sixteen years of age. She is the
richest heiress in France, consequently," added the baron, emphasising
the words strongly and giving Olivier a meaning look, "consequently she
need not trouble herself in the least about the pecuniary condition of
the man she will choose for a husband. She desires, above all, to marry
a man who pleases her, and who she feels will assure her future
happiness. As regards his name and social position, provided his name
and social position are honourable and honoured, Mlle. de Beaumesnil is
content. Do you understand me at last, monsieur?"
"I have listened to you with the closest attention, M. le baron. I
understand perfectly that Mlle. de Beaumesnil intends to marry to her
own liking, without much, or, indeed, any regard to the rank and
pecuniary condition of the man of her choice. She is perfectly right, I
think; but why should I be told all this,--I, who have never met Mlle.
de Beaumesnil in my life, and who probably never shall?"
"I have told you this, M. Olivier Raymond, because Mlle. de Beaumesnil
is persuaded that in you are united all the attributes she most desires
in a husband; so, after having made the most careful inquiries
concerning you,--with results which were most flattering to yourself, I
must admit,--I, as the guardian of Mlle. de Beaumesnil, am deputised,
authorised, and commissioned to offer you her hand in marriage."
The baron might have gone on a good while longer without any
interruption from Olivier.
Though the latter was astounded by what he had just heard, he could no
longer suppose that this was a hoax on the part of M. de la Rochaigue,
who, in spite of his absurd flights of oratory, was really a grave,
dignified man, with perfect manners.
On the other hand, how could he believe,--without an immense amount of
conceit, and conceit was not one of Olivier's besetting sins, by any
means,--how could he believe that the richest heiress in France had so
suddenly lost her heart to him?
A minute or two passed before Olivier spoke. When he did, it was to say:
"I am sure you will excuse my silence and my bewilderment, monsieur, as
you, yourself, fully realised that you had some very extraordinary
revelations to make--"
"Do not hurry yourself in the least, monsieur. Take plenty of time to
recover yourself, for I can very easily understand the mental agitation
such a proposition must excite. I should add, however, that Mlle. de
Beaumesnil knows perfectly well that you cannot accept her offer until
after you have seen her and made her acquaintance. So, if you desire it,
I will present you to my ward, and it is my earnest desire that you will
both find in your mutual acquaintance a guaranty, hope, and certainty of
future happiness."
After which peroration, the baron said to himself:
"Thank Heaven, that is over! Now, I shall discover the answer to this
enigma which seems more and more incomprehensible every minute."
Up to this time, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, Herminie, and the hunchback had
listened to the conversation in breathless silence. Herminie now
understood for the first time the twofold object of the test to which M.
de Maillefort had felt it necessary to subject Olivier; but Ernestine,
in spite of her confidence in the nobility of the young officer's
character, was in torture, as she awaited Olivier's reply to the baron's
dazzling offer. The temptation, alas! was so great. How few persons
would be able to resist it! Was there any living man who would not
forget or ignore a promise made to an unattractive, penniless, and
friendless girl, and eagerly embrace the opportunity to acquire colossal
wealth?
"_Mon Dieu!_ I tremble, in spite of myself," murmured Ernestine. "The
renunciation we expect of M. Olivier is above human strength, perhaps.
Alas! alas! why did I consent to this test?"
"Courage, my child," whispered the hunchback, "think only of the
happiness and admiration you will feel if Olivier realises our
expectations. But hush, he is going to reply."
With a half frenzied movement, Ernestine threw herself into Herminie's
arms, and it was thus that the two girls, trembling with fear and hope,
awaited Olivier's answer.