been made in all seriousness; but unable to explain it on the ground of
personal merit,--for Olivier was an extremely modest man,--he attributed
it to one of those caprices not uncommon in romantic young persons whose
exorbitant wealth places them in an exceptional position,--caprices
which in many cases amount to positive eccentricity.
"Monsieur," Olivier began, in a firm voice, after quite a long silence,
"though the proposition you have just made to me is so strange, so
entirely beyond the bounds of possibility, I might almost say, I give
you my word of honour that, inexplicable as it seems to me, I believe in
its sincerity."
"You can, monsieur, that is the important thing; that is all I ask of
you."
"I do, and I shall make no attempt to fathom the incomprehensible
reasons which led Mlle. de Beaumesnil to think of me even for an
instant."
"Pardon me, but I have already explained these reasons, monsieur."
"Though I am not particularly modest, these reasons seem to me far from
adequate; besides, I have no right to avail myself of this too
flattering offer, for--for it is impossible for me--I will not say to
accept Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand--such an important act must
necessarily depend upon a thousand unforeseen contingencies, but to--"
"I give you my word of honour, monsieur, that it depends only upon
yourself," said the baron, in such grave tones that Olivier could not
fail to be deeply impressed, "understand me, upon yourself, absolutely
and entirely. And, if you desire it, I will introduce you to the young
lady before an hour has elapsed. It will then be impossible for you to
feel the slightest doubt in regard to--to the sincerity of the offer I
have just made you."
"I believe you, monsieur, as I said before. I only wish to say that it
is impossible for me to even consider the proposition you have been so
kind as to make to me."
The baron was astounded now in his turn.
"What, monsieur, you refuse?" he exclaimed. "But no, I cannot have heard
you aright. It is impossible that you should be so blind as not to see
the immense advantages of such a marriage."
"Then I must endeavour to be more explicit, monsieur. I positively
decline your offer, while acknowledging that Mlle. de Beaumesnil's kind
intentions are entirely too flattering to me."
"You decline--the richest heiress in France. You treat Mlle. de
Beaumesnil's unheard-of concessions with disdain."
"Pardon me," exclaimed Olivier, hastily interrupting him. "I told you
just now how deeply honoured I felt by your proposition, so I should be
truly inconsolable if you interpreted my refusal as in any respect
uncomplimentary to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, whom I have not the honour of
knowing."
"But I have offered you an opportunity to make her acquaintance."
"That would be useless, monsieur. I do not doubt Mlle. de Beaumesnil's
merits in the least, but as I should tell you all under the
circumstances, I am not free. My heart and my honour are alike pledged."
"You are betrothed already?"
"In short, monsieur, I am about to marry a young lady whom I both love
and esteem."
"Great God! What are you telling me, monsieur?" exclaimed the
unfortunate baron, fairly gasping for breath, so great was his
consternation.
"The truth, monsieur, and such an announcement will suffice, I am sure,
to convince you that--without the slightest intended disparagement of
Mlle. de Beaumesnil--I cannot even consider the proposition you have
made to me."
"But if this marriage doesn't come off, I shall lose my deputyship,"
thought the baron, despairingly. "Why the devil did the marquis insist
upon my giving my consent if this young idiot was going to be fool
enough to refuse such a colossal fortune? And there is my ward who
declared to me this very morning that she would never marry anybody but
Olivier Raymond. The marquis told me that I would find this an enigma,
but all enigmas have their answers, and this can be no exception to the
rule!"
So the baron, unwilling to renounce his hope of political preferment,
added aloud:
"My dear sir, I implore you to reflect. Do not decide hastily. You have
plighted your troth,--well and good! You love a young girl, you say,--so
be it, but thank Heaven, you are still free, and there are sacrifices
which one should have the courage to make for the sake of his future.
Think, monsieur, an income of more than three million francs a year from
landed property! Why, nobody on earth could be expected to refuse such a
fortune as that! And the young girl who loves you--if she really loves
you for yourself alone--will be the first, if she is not frightfully
selfish, to advise you to accept this unexpected good fortune with
resignation. An income of over three million francs, my dear sir, and
from real estate, remember."
"I have told you that my heart and honour are alike pledged, monsieur,
so it pains me to see that, in spite of the favourable reports you have
heard concerning me, you still believe me capable of a base and
cowardly act," added Olivier, severely.
"Heaven forbid, my dear sir! I believe you to be the most honourable man
in the world, but--"
"Will you do me the favour, monsieur," said Olivier, rising, "to inform
Mlle. de Beaumesnil of the reasons that prompted my decision. I feel
sure that when she hears them she will consider me worthy of her esteem,
though--"
"But you are worthy of something more than esteem, my dear sir. Such
disinterestedness is marvellous, admirable, sublime."
"Such disinterestedness on my part is a very simple thing, monsieur. I
love and I am loved in return. The happiness of my life depends upon my
approaching marriage."
And Olivier started towards the door.
"But take a few days for reflection, I beseech you, monsieur. Do not be
guided by this first rash impulse. Again let me venture to remind you
that it means an income of over three million francs from--"
"There is nothing more that you wish to say to me, I suppose, monsieur,"
said Olivier, interrupting the baron, and bowing, as if to take leave of
him.
"Monsieur," exclaimed the baron, desperately, "consider, I beg of you,
that this refusal on your part is sure to make Mlle. de Beaumesnil very
unhappy; for you must realise that a guardian, a grave, conscientious
man like myself, would not have taken the step I have, if he had not
been absolutely compelled to do so. In other words, my ward will be made
miserable by your refusal,--she will die, perhaps--"
"Monsieur, I beseech you, in my turn, to remember the exceedingly
painful position in which you are placing me, a position, in fact, that
it is impossible for me to endure longer after the announcement of my
approaching marriage, which I have felt it my duty to make."
Again Olivier bowed respectfully to the baron, and again he started
towards the door, adding, as he opened it:
"I should have been glad to end this interview less abruptly, monsieur.
Will you, therefore, be kind enough to excuse me, and to attribute my
hasty retreat to an insistence on your part which places me in the most
disagreeable, I was about to say the most ridiculous, position
imaginable."
And having uttered these words, Olivier walked out of the room, in spite
of the baron's despairing protests.
That gentleman, half frantic with disappointment and anger, rushed
towards the door leading into the room where the hunchback and the two
young girls were standing, and pulling aside the portiere, exclaimed:
"And now will you be good enough to explain the meaning of all this? Why
have you made such a fool of me? And why does this M. Olivier refuse
Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand, and declare he has never seen her in his
life when you assure me that he and my ward are desperately in love with
each other?"
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS.
But M. de la Rochaigue's bewilderment was by no means at an end.
The baron had fully expected to find the unseen auditors of the
foregoing conversation in a state of intense consternation over M.
Olivier's refusal.
Far from it.
Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Herminie, clasped in each other's arms, were
laughing and crying and kissing each other in a transport of half
delirious joy.
"He refused me! He refused me!" exclaimed Ernestine, in accents of
ineffable delight.
"Ah, I told you that M. Olivier would not disappoint our expectations,
my dear Ernestine," added Herminie.
"Wasn't I right? Didn't I tell you that he would refuse?" cried the
marquis, no less delighted.
"Then why the devil did you make such a fuss about gaining my consent?"
demanded the baron, forgetting his dignity in his thorough exasperation.
"Why did both of you insist upon my making that young idiot such an
unheard-of proposal, if you wanted him to refuse it?"
These words seemed to recall Ernestine to the fact of the baron's
existence, for, releasing herself from her friend's arms, she turned a
radiant face towards her guardian, and exclaimed, in tones of the most
profound gratitude:
"Oh, thank you, monsieur, thank you! I shall owe the happiness of my
whole life to you, and I assure you, I shall never prove ungrateful."
"But you must have misunderstood him," cried the baron, "he refuses, he
refuses, he refuses, I tell you."
"Yes, he refuses," exclaimed Ernestine, ecstatically. "Ah, has he not
the noblest of hearts!"
"They have certainly gone mad, every one of them," murmured the poor
baron, in despair.
"But this young man is as good as married,--he won't have you! He says
nothing would induce him to have you!" he fairly shouted in Ernestine's
ear. "His marriage is to take place very shortly."
"Yes, thank God, there is no further obstacle to that marriage now,"
cried Ernestine, "so I thank you once again, M. de la Rochaigue. I thank
you with all my heart, and I shall never, never forget what you have
done for me."
Fortunately the hunchback now came to the rescue of the unfortunate
baron, who really felt as if his poor brain was about to burst.
"I promised you the answer to the enigma, you remember, my dear baron,"
said M. de Maillefort.
"I think it is time, quite time for you to give it, then, marquis. If
you do not, I believe I shall go mad. There is a strange buzzing in my
ears, my head feels as if it would split, there are specks floating
before my eyes--and--"
"Well, then, listen to me. This morning your ward declared that she
would not marry anybody but M. Olivier Raymond, and that the happiness
of her life depended upon it, did she not?"
"You certainly are not going to begin that all over again?" exclaimed M.
de la Rochaigue, stamping his foot angrily.
"Have a little patience, baron. I told you afterwards that all the good
you had heard in relation to M. Olivier Raymond was nothing in
comparison with what you would soon discover for yourself."
"Well, what have I discovered?"
"Is the disinterestedness which you yourself were obliged to admire
nothing? To refuse the richest heiress in France to fulfil a promise of
marriage previously made to a penniless young girl--is not such conduct
as that--?"
"Admirable, commendable, worthy of all praise," exclaimed the baron. "I
know all that! But I repeat that I shall go stark staring mad if you
don't explain why this refusal, which should fill you and my ward with
dismay and consternation, seems to delight you beyond measure,--that is,
if you are still anxious for Ernestine to marry Olivier."
"I certainly am."
"Well, I'd like to know how you are going to bring it about, for his
heart seems to be set upon marrying the other girl."
"And that is precisely what pleases us so much," said the hunchback.
"Delights us, you mean," corrected Ernestine.
"It delights you because he is determined to marry another girl?"
exclaimed the baron, positively furious now.
"Yes, but you see this other girl is she!" explained the marquis.
"She--and who is she?" shouted the baron.
"Your ward."
"But the other girl is my ward."
"Certainly," replied Ernestine, triumphantly, "I am the other girl."
"Yes, baron, the other girl, I tell you, is she, your ward."
"Yes, she is Ernestine," added Herminie.
"It is all perfectly clear now, you see," remarked the marquis.
On hearing this explanation, which was even more incomprehensible to him
than what had gone before, the unfortunate baron cast a half frantic
glance around him, then, closing his eyes, said to the hunchback, in
despairing tones:
"M. de Maillefort, you seem to be absolutely pitiless. I have as strong
a mind as anybody else, I think, but it is incapable of unravelling such
a mystery as this. You promised to give me the answer to this beastly
enigma, but the answer is even more incomprehensible than the enigma
itself."
"Come, come, my dear baron, calm yourself, and listen to me."
"I have been listening to you for a quarter of an hour or more," groaned
the baron, "and yet I am very much worse off than I was in the
beginning."
"Well, well, everything shall be made plain now," said the marquis,
soothingly.
"Proceed, then, I beg of you."
"Very well, then, these are the facts of the case: Through a combination
of circumstances which will be explained later on, and which have no
special bearing on the subject now under consideration, your ward met M.
Olivier and passed herself off to him as a poor orphan girl, who was
supporting herself by her needle. Do you understand thus far, baron?"
"Yes, I understand thus far. What next?"
"Well, by reason of other circumstances with which you will soon be made
conversant, your ward and M. Olivier fell in love with each other, he
still supposing Mlle. de Beaumesnil to be a friendless and penniless
orphan, and so unhappy in her home relations that he felt that he was,
and in fact was, exceedingly generous in offering to marry her when he
was made an officer."
"In short," exclaimed the baron, straightening himself up to his full
height, and speaking in triumphant tones,--"in short, Ernestine and the
other young girl are simply one and the same person."
"Precisely," responded the hunchback.
"And so," continued the baron, wiping the perspiration which his
Herculean mental efforts had produced from his brow,--"and so you wished
to find out if Olivier loved the other, the poor girl, enough to resist,
for her sake, the temptation to marry the richest heiress in France?"
"Exactly, baron."
"Hence your romantic story that Mlle. de Beaumesnil had seen Olivier
during his stay at the chateau and had fallen in love with him."
"It was necessary to find some plausible excuse for the proposal you
were commissioned to make to him. This story furnished it, and I must
say that you played your part admirably. And M. Olivier,--well, was I
wrong in assuring you that M. Olivier Raymond was the soul of honour?"
"He is, indeed!" exclaimed the baron. "Listen, marquis. I am not
inclined to revert to the past, but I admit that I considered this a
very unsuitable marriage for my ward. Ah, well, now I distinctly assert,
affirm, and declare that, after what I have just seen and heard, if my
ward were my own daughter, I should say to her: 'Marry M. Raymond, by
all means. You could not make a better choice.'"
"Ah, monsieur, I shall never forget those words!" cried Ernestine.
"But this is not all, my dear baron."
"What else can there be, pray?" demanded M. de la Rochaigue, uneasily,
evidently fearing a fresh imbroglio.
"This test had a twofold object. M. Olivier's extreme sensitiveness in
pecuniary matters is so well known to his friends that we feared when he
discovered that the young girl whom he thought so poor was really Mlle.
de Beaumesnil, he, being only a young lieutenant without either rank or
fortune, would absolutely refuse to marry the richest heiress in France,
though he had loved her and asked her to be his wife, when he believed
her absolutely penniless."
"Such scruples on his part would not surprise me in the least," said the
baron. "The fellow is so proud, the slightest hint that he might be
considered a fortune-hunter would infuriate him. And now I think of it,
the obstacle you fear still exists."
"No, my dear baron."
"But why not?"
"Why, can't you see?" exclaimed Ernestine, joyously. "M. Olivier has
positively refused to marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, the rich heiress, has
he not?"
"Unquestionably," said the baron; "still, I don't understand--"
"But when M. Olivier discovers who I really am, how can he feel any fear
of being accused of mercenary motives in marrying me, when he had
positively refused to accept the proffered hand of the richest heiress
in France?"
"Or, in other words, an income of over three million francs," exclaimed
the baron, interrupting his ward. "That is true. The idea is an
excellent one. I congratulate you upon it, M. le marquis, and I say,
with you, that even if M. Olivier were a thousand times more proud and
sensitive, he could not hold out against this argument, viz.: 'You
positively refused to accept the three million francs when they were
offered you, so your motives are necessarily above suspicion.'"
"And it is impossible for M. Olivier to feel any scruples under these
circumstances, do you not think so, monsieur?"
"Most assuredly I do, my dear ward. But this revelation will have to be
made to M. Olivier sooner or later, I suppose."
"Of course, and I will attend to it," replied the marquis. "I have a
plan. We will talk that over together, by and by, baron, that and
certain business matters which young girls understand very little about.
Am I not right, my child?" added the marquis, with a smile, turning to
Ernestine.
"Perfectly right," answered Mlle. de Beanmesnil, "and whatever you and
my guardian may decide, I agree to in advance."
"I need not say, my dear baron, that we must maintain the utmost secrecy
in relation to all this until the signing of the marriage contract,
which I have my reasons for desiring should precede the publishing of
the banns. Day after to-morrow will not be too soon, I suppose. What do
you think about it, Ernestine?"
"You can guess my reply, monsieur," answered the young girl, blushing
and smiling.
Then she added, hastily:
"But mine will not be the only contract to sign. There is another, isn't
there, Herminie?"
"That is for M. de Maillefort to decide," replied Herminie, blushingly.
"I approve most decidedly; but who is to attend to all this rather
troublesome business?"
"You, of course, M. de Maillefort. You are so good and kind!" cried
Ernestine.
"Besides, have you not proved that nothing is impossible to you?" added
Herminie.
"Oh, as for the impossibilities achieved, when I think of the scene at
your home this morning, you, my dear child, are the one who deserves
praise, not I."
On hearing these words, M. de la Rochaigue, who had seemed to be hardly
aware of Herminie's presence before, turned to her, and said:
"Pardon me, my dear young lady; my attention has been so engrossed by
what has just occurred that--"
"M. de la Rochaigue," said Ernestine, taking Herminie by the hand, "I
wish to present to you my dearest friend, or, rather, my sister, for no
two sisters could love each other more devotedly than we do."
"But," said the baron, greatly surprised, "if I am not very much
mistaken, mademoiselle--mademoiselle is the music teacher we selected
for you on account of the extreme delicacy of her conduct in relation to
a perfectly just claim upon the Beaumesnil estate."
"You still have some very remarkable things to learn in relation to
Mlle. Herminie, my dear baron," said the marquis.
"Indeed? And what are they, may I ask?"
"In the conversation which you and I must have, presently, I will answer
your question fully; but now I am sure it will suffice you to know that
your ward has placed her friendship as wisely as her love; for I can
truly say that the person who would select M. Olivier Raymond for a
husband would be certain to select Mlle. Herminie for a friend."
"M. de Maillefort is right," said Mlle. de Beaumesnil, twining her arm
affectionately about her friend's waist; "both these greatest blessings
came to me the same evening at Madame Herbaut's little party."
"Madame Herbaut's little party!" repeated the baron, opening his eyes
wide, in astonishment, "What Madame Herbaut?"
"My dear child, you should be generous, and not give M. de la Rochaigue
any more enigmas to solve this evening," said the hunchback.
"I declare myself utterly incapable of solving them," exclaimed the
baron. "My poor brain feels as confused and bewildered as if I had just
made a balloon ascension."
"Don't be alarmed, baron," said M. de Maillefort, laughing. "I shall
spare your imagination any further flights by soon telling you all there
is to tell."
"In that case we will leave you," said Ernestine, smiling. Then she
added:
"But I feel it my duty to warn you before I go that Herminie and I have
entered into a conspiracy, M. de la Rochaigue."
"And what is this conspiracy, young ladies?"
"As it is so late, and as I should certainly become quite crazed with
joy if I were left entirely alone with my happiness, Herminie has
consented to remain with me until to-morrow morning. We shall dine
tete-a-tete, and in the happiest of moods, as you may imagine."
"An admirable arrangement, young ladies, for Madame de la Rochaigue and
I have an engagement to dine out this evening," said the baron; "so a
pleasant evening to you."
"I shall see you both again to-morrow," said M. de Maillefort. "There
are some details which I am sure you will enjoy, that we must discuss
together."
The two girls, radiant with delight, returned to Ernestine's apartments,
and, after a daintily served dinner,--which they scarcely touched, so
absorbed were they in their new-found joy and happiness,--they retired
to Ernestine's chamber, to again talk over the strange vicissitudes of
their love affairs and of their friendship.
In about a quarter of an hour they were, to their great regret,
interrupted by Madame Laine, who entered the room after having rapped in
a deprecating manner.
"What do you want, my dear Laine?" asked Ernestine, a trifle
impatiently.
"I have a favour to ask of mademoiselle."
"What is it?"
"Mademoiselle is perhaps aware that M. le baron and madame are dining
out this evening, and that they will not return home until late."
"Yes, what of it?"
"Mlle. Helena, wishing the servants to profit by the leisure evening
monsieur's and madame's absence affords them, secured three loges at the
Gaite Theatre this morning, where they are playing 'The Maccabees,' a
drama founded on an episode in Bible history."
"And you, too, wish to go, I suppose, my dear Laine?"
"If mademoiselle will not need me until it is time for her to retire."
"You can have the entire evening, my dear Laine, and take Therese with
you, if you choose."
"But what if mademoiselle should need something before our return?"
"Oh, I shall not need anything. Mlle. Herminie and I will wait on each
other. Go, and enjoy yourself, by all means, my dear Laine, and be sure
to take Therese with you."
"Mademoiselle is very kind. I thank her a thousand times. If
mademoiselle should need anything, she has only to ring, however, for
Mlle. Helena told Placide to come down so as to be ready to answer
mademoiselle's bell if she rang."
"Very well, I will ring for her if I want anything. Good night, my dear
Laine."
The governess bowed and retired, and the two young girls were left
almost alone in the big house, all the other inmates of the dwelling
having gone out, with the exception of Mlle. Helena de la Rochaigue and
Placide, that lady's personal attendant, who had been instructed to
respond to the summons should Mlle. de Beaumesnil ring.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
FOILED!
The clock had just struck ten.
It was a dark and stormy night, and the howling of the wind was the only
sound that broke the profound silence which pervaded the spacious
mansion.
The young girls had been talking for two hours of their sad past and
their radiant future, though it seemed to them that the interchange of
confidence had scarcely begun.
But suddenly Ernestine paused in the middle of a sentence, and, turning
her head in the direction of Madame Laine's room, seemed to listen
attentively.
"What is the matter, Ernestine?" inquired Herminie.
"Nothing, my dear, nothing," replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil, "I was
mistaken, of course."
"But what was it?"
"It seemed to me I heard a sound in Madame Laine's room."
"What a timid little thing you are!" said Herminie. "It was probably
some outside shutter rattling in the wind you heard and--"
But Herminie, making a sudden movement of surprise in her turn, quickly
turned her head towards the door that separated Ernestine's bedroom from
the adjoining parlour, and said:
"How strange, Ernestine! Did you notice--?"
"That some one turned the key in that door."
Without replying, Herminie ran to the door and turned the knob.
Further doubt was impossible. Some one had, indeed, locked the door on
the outside.
"Great Heavens! what does this mean?" whispered Ernestine, really
frightened now. "And all the servants are out. Ah, fortunately, Placide,
one of Mlle. Helena's maids remained at home."
And rushing to the bell-rope, Mlle. de Beaumesnil pulled it violently
several times.
Meanwhile Herminie had recalled the vague uneasiness the marquis had
shown that afternoon when he alluded to the intimacy between Ravil and
Macreuse, but though she was considerably alarmed herself she did not
wish to increase Ernestine's terror, so she said:
"Don't be frightened, my dear; the person you rang for can explain what
surprises you so much, probably."
"But she doesn't come, and this is the third time I have rung for her!"
exclaimed Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
Then, trembling like a leaf, she added, in a whisper, pointing this time
to the door which separated her chamber from Madame Laine's':
"Listen. Oh, my God! don't you hear somebody walking about in there?"
Herminie made her a reassuring gesture, but Mlle. de Beaumesnil, after
listening again for an instant, exclaimed with even greater terror:
"Herminie, I tell you I hear some one moving about! They are coming
towards the door. Listen!"
"We'll push the bolt and fasten ourselves in," said Herminie, promptly,
hastening towards the door.
But just as the young girl was about to place her hand on the bolt, the
door suddenly opened, and M. de Macreuse entered the room.
On seeing him, Herminie uttered a cry and sprang back, while this model
young man, turning towards some one who had remained in the next room,
exclaimed, in accents of amazement and baffled rage:
"Hell! she is not alone! All is lost!"
On hearing these words, a second intruder appeared.
It was Ravil.
And at the sight of Herminie, he cried, in a no less surprised and angry
tone:
"Damnation! that girl here!"
Herminie and Ernestine had retreated to the farther end of the room, and
there, clasped in each other's arms as if to afford each other mutual
support, they stood, paralysed with fright, and unable to utter a word.
Macreuse and Ravil, at first astounded, and then infuriated by the
unexpected presence of Herminie, which seemed likely to ruin their
plans, also stood silent and motionless for a moment, gazing inquiringly
at each other as if to read in each other's faces what they had better
do under such unforeseen circumstances.
The two girls, in spite of their terror, had noted the exclamations of
astonishment and dismay which had escaped both Macreuse and his
accomplice on finding that Mlle. de Beaumesnil was not alone, as they
had anticipated.
The two girls had also noticed the state of consternation in which the
founder of the St. Polycarpe mission and his accomplice had been
momentarily plunged.
Both these observations served to restore a little courage to the
sisters, and, reason coming to their aid, they finally came to the
conclusion that together they were as strong as they would have been
helpless had either of them found herself at the mercy of these
wretches, alone.
So Mlle. de Beaumesnil, realising how great was the danger from which
Herminie's presence had saved her, exclaimed, with a tenderness and
gratitude which proved the intensity of her anxiety and dread:
"See, Herminie, Heaven has again sent you to act as my protector! But
for you I should be lost."
"Courage, my dear, courage!" whispered the duchess. "See how
disconcerted the scoundrels look!"
"You are right, Herminie! Such a blissful day as this has been to us can
not be spoiled! I have a blind confidence in our star now."
Cheered by this brief interchange of whispered words, the orphans,
strengthened, too, by the thought of the radiant future before them,
gradually recovered their composure, and at last Ernestine, addressing
Macreuse and his accomplice, said, bravely:
"You will not succeed in terrifying us. The first shock is over and your
audacity arouses only disdain. In a short time the servants will return,
and you will be put out of the house as disgracefully as you entered
it."
"It is true we may be compelled to endure your presence for awhile,"
added Herminie, with bitter scorn; "but in spite of our contempt and
aversion, Mlle. de Beaumesnil and I have both been subjected to more
severe ordeals."
"What a courageous man you are, M. de Macreuse, to steal at night, with
an accomplice, into the room of a young girl you believe to be alone, in
order to secure a cowardly revenge for the humiliation that M. de
Maillefort, who knows you, inflicted upon you in public!" added
Ernestine.
Macreuse and Ravil listened to these sarcasms in silence, interchanging
wrathful looks the while.
"My dear Herminie," resumed Mlle. de Beaumesnil, whose countenance was
gradually regaining its accustomed serenity, "I may seem very silly to
you, and it may be that the great happiness we have experienced to-day
has upset me a little, but really all this seems so utterly absurd and
ridiculous to me that I can scarcely help laughing."
"I, too, must admit that it seems ridiculous, and even grotesque, to
me."
"The discomfiture of these scoundrels is really pitiable," remarked
Mlle. de Beaumesnil, bursting into a hearty laugh this time.
"The impotent rage of these conspirators, who excite mirth rather than
fear, is extremely amusing," chimed in Herminie, no less gaily.
In fact, the bewilderment of these two scoundrels, who did not consider
themselves in the least subjects for mirth, was so ludicrous that the
orphans, either because their happiness had, indeed, made them bold, or
because they were really brave enough to face this danger unflinchingly,
gave way to another burst of feverish, vindictive gaiety,--feverish,
because the two girls were naturally excited by the very strangeness of
the situation, vindictive, because they were fully conscious of the
disappointment and exasperation they were causing Macreuse and Ravil.
The intruders, momentarily disconcerted by the unexpected presence of
Herminie, and by the strange hilarity of the young girls, soon began to
recover their assurance.
Macreuse, whose drawn features were assuming a more and more threatening
expression, whispered a few words in Ravil's ear, whereupon that worthy
hastily stepped to the only window in the room, and slipped a small
steel chain around the fastening, thus effectually closing the window as
well as the inside shutters, and then united the two ends of the chain
with a padlock.
This done, it was impossible, of course, to open either the window or
shutters from the inside and call for help.
The two girls thus found themselves at the mercy of Macreuse and De
Ravil.
The door leading into the sitting-room had been locked on the other side
by Mlle. Helena's maid, for it is needless to say that this saintly
creature and her attendant were Macreuse's accomplices, but both were
ignorant that Herminie was still with Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
While Ravil was thus engaged, Macreuse, whose countenance expressed the
most execrable sentiments, folded his arms upon his breast, and said,
with portentous calmness:
"My first plan has failed by reason of the presence of this accursed
creature (indicating Herminie by a gesture). I am frank, you see. But I
have ingenuity in plenty, and a devoted friend. You are both in our
power. We have two hours at our disposal, and I will convince you that I
am not a person to be laughed at long."
These threats, as well as the tone and expression of the man that made
them, were rendered even more terrifying by the solitude and entirely
defenceless position in which the two girls found themselves; but if
tragical things are once viewed in a ridiculous light, anything that
increases the horror of them likewise seems to increase the laughter of
the beholder, which soon becomes irrepressible.
Macreuse's threats produced this very effect upon the two young girls,
for, unfortunately, as he spoke he made an involuntary movement that
caused his hat to slip far back on his head, and this, in spite of his
threatening, almost ferocious expression, gave such an odd appearance to
his rather broad face that the two girls burst into a fresh fit of
merriment.
Then came the accomplice's turn.
The girls had watched Ravil's manoeuvre with even more curiosity than
alarm, but when the time came to pass the hasp of the padlock through
the last links of the chain, Ravil, who was a little near-sighted, did
not succeed at first, and stamped his foot violently in his anger and
impatience.
This elicited another such paroxysm of nervous laughter from the two
girls that Macreuse and his accomplice, amazed, then as deeply
exasperated as if they had been slapped in the face, in the presence of
a hundred witnesses, lost their heads, and, quite carried away with
ferocious rage, sprang towards the young girls, and seized them savagely
by the arm.
As they did so, Macreuse, his face livid, his eyes haggard, and
positively foaming at the mouth with rage, but with his unfortunate hat
still on the back of his head, exclaimed:
"Have we got to kill you to frighten you?"
"Alas! it is not our fault," said Ernestine, bursting into another fit
of laughter at the sight of this alike terrible and grotesque figure.
"You can only kill us--with laughter."
And Herminie chimed in.
Infuriated beyond expression, there is no knowing to what violence the
two villains might have resorted, but at that very instant the door
leading into the sitting-room--the door which had been locked on the
outside--was suddenly opened, and M. de Maillefort, accompanied by
Gerald, burst into the room, exclaiming, in a voice full of anxiety and
alarm:
"Have no fears, my children; here we are!"
But judge of the newcomers' astonishment. Both had rushed in, pale and
terrified, like persons who had come to rescue a friend from some great
danger. And what did they behold?
Two young girls with brilliant colour, sparkling eyes, and bosoms
heaving with laughter, while Macreuse and Ravil stood pale with rage and
motionless with terror at this unexpected interference.
For an instant the marquis attributed this strange hilarity on the part
of the two girls to hysteria, caused by intense fright, but he was
speedily reassured by Ernestine, who said:
"Forgive this extraordinary gaiety, my dear M. de Maillefort, but such a
strange thing has happened. These two men entered the house by that
back stairway I told you about--"
[Illustration: _"M. de Maillefort, accompanied by Gerald, burst into the
room."_
Original etching by Adrian Marcel.]
"Yes," said the marquis, turning to Herminie; "the key--this
morning--you remember, my child. My presentiments did not deceive me, it
seems."
"I must admit that we were terribly frightened at first," replied
Herminie, "but when we saw the rage and disappointment of these men, who
had expected to find Ernestine alone--"
"And their consternation was so ludicrous," added Mlle. de Beaumesnil,
"and we felt so perfectly safe, being together, that what had seemed so
terrible at first began--"
"To appear positively ludicrous," added Herminie.
"But just as you came in M. de Macreuse was talking of killing us to
cure us of our inclination to laugh," remarked Ernestine.
"Did any one ever see the like of them?" the marquis exclaimed,
admiringly, turning to Gerald. "Are they not as brave as they are
charming?"
"I admire their courage as much as you do," replied Gerald, "but when I
think of the shameful audacity of these scoundrels, whom I hardly dare
to look at for fear I shall not be able to control myself and so trample
them under my feet, I--"
"Nonsense, my dear Gerald, nonsense!" exclaimed the marquis. "Gentlemen
do not touch carrion like that even with their feet. The criminal court
will attend to them now."
And turning to the model young man and to Ravil, who had summoned up all
their assurance with the evident intention of braving the storm, the
hunchback said:
"M. de Macreuse, since your sudden intimacy with M. de Ravil began,
knowing what you were both capable of, I have had you closely watched."
"A system of espionage, eh?" said Macreuse, with a haughty smile. "I am
not surprised."
"Yes, of espionage," retorted the hunchback. "This morning I happened to
see you in a locksmith's. You were showing a key to him, and this
excited my suspicions. I consequently redoubled my vigilance, and this
evening you and your companion were followed here by two of my men. One
of those men remained by the door which he had just seen you open with a
false key. The other ran to inform me, and I, in turn, sent him to
summon the police, who must be waiting for you this very minute at the
foot of the stairway by which you effected an entrance here. They will
speedily give you and your worthy friend some idea of the annoyance to
which persons who enter an occupied house at night by the aid of false
keys expose themselves."
On hearing this announcement, Macreuse and Ravil gave a violent start,
and looked at each other, their faces livid with fear.
"You are pretty certain to be sent to the galleys, I think," continued
the hunchback, coolly. "But M. de Macreuse can play the part of St.
Vincent de Paul there, and excite the admiration of his red-capped
colleagues by his Christian virtues."
The sound of footsteps was heard in the room of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's
governess.
"The commissioner of police has taken the trouble to come for you, as
you don't seem inclined to go down," remarked the marquis. "It is
certainly very kind in him."
The door opened almost at that very instant, and a commissioner of
police, followed by several members of the force, entered, and said to
Macreuse and Ravil:
"I arrest you in the name of the law, and I shall now proceed in your
presence to draw up an official report of the criminating facts in the
case."
"Come, my dear children," said the marquis to Ernestine and Herminie,
"let us leave these gentlemen to attend to their own affairs while we go
up to Madame de la Rochaigue's apartments to await the return of your
guardian."
"The testimony of these young ladies will be indispensable, M. le
marquis," said the commissioner, "and I shall do myself the honour to
call upon them for it presently."
* * * * *
An hour afterwards, the founder of the St. Polycarpe Mission and his
accomplice were both placed in prison, to answer to the charge of having
entered an occupied house at night by means of false keys, and of having
attempted to intimidate the inmates by threats and violence.
On the return of the baron and baroness, it was decided that Ernestine
and Herminie should share Madame de la Rochaigue's room the rest of the
night.
As the hunchback took leave of the young girls, he smilingly remarked to
them:
"I have accomplished a good deal since I last saw you. The marriage
contracts are drawn up, and they will be signed at Herminie's home at
seven o'clock to-morrow evening."
"At my home? How glad I am!" said the duchess.
"Is it not always customary to sign the contract at the house of the
bride?" asked the marquis. "And as you and Ernestine are so devoted to
each other that you are almost the same as sisters--"
"Exactly the same as sisters, you mean."
"It is only proper that Ernestine's marriage contract should be signed
at the home of her elder sister."
* * * * *
So all the next day, Herminie, radiant with happiness, was making
important preparations in her pretty, dainty room for the signing of the
marriage contracts of the richest heiress in France, and of the adopted
daughter of M. le Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel,--an
adoption of which the poor musician had not as yet the slightest
suspicion.
CHAPTER XXIX.
AN EVENTFUL DAY.
Herminie was not the only person who was busily engaged in preparations
for the signing of these contracts.
A joyous excitement pervaded a modest little home in the Batignolles,
also.
Commander Bernard, Gerald, and Olivier had insisted upon dining together
that evening under the same arbour where the opening scene of this story
had occurred several months before.
At the conclusion of the repast all three were to repair to Herminie's
for the signing of the marriage contract.
A superb autumn afternoon had favoured the realisation of this project,
and Madame Barbancon had surpassed herself in her culinary achievements.
Notified in advance this time, she had tended with the utmost solicitude
a triumphant _pot au feu_, which was to be followed by some juicy
cutlets, a fine roast chicken, and a boiled custard, where the snowy
whites of the eggs floated in immaculate whiteness upon a rich vanilla
cream.
Poor Madame Barbancon considered this decidedly commonplace menu the _ne
plus ultra_ of culinary magnificence.
But, alas! in spite of the excellence of the repast, the three guests
did little honour to it. Joy had deprived them of their appetites, and
the worthy housekeeper, in her disappointment, could not help comparing
this disheartening indifference with the zest with which Gerald and
Olivier had devoured two helpings of her hastily improvised vinaigrette
several months before.
Madame Barbancon had just removed the fowl almost untouched, and as she
placed the snow custard on the table, she muttered between her teeth:
"They'll clean this dish sure. One doesn't have to be hungry to eat
this. It is the very food for lovers."
"The devil! Mother Barbancon," said the commander, gaily, "here's a dish
that reminds me of the snow-banks of Newfoundland. What a pity it is
that none of us are the least bit hungry!"
"It is, indeed, for Madame Barbancon has proved herself to be a
veritable _cordon bleu_ to-day," remarked Gerald.
"It is the finest snow custard that was ever concocted," added Olivier.
"We can at least devour it with our eyes."
The housekeeper, who could not believe that she was to be subjected to
this last cruel affront, said, in constrained tones:
"You gentlemen must be jesting."
"Jesting about such a sacred thing as your snow custard, Mother
Barbancon? The devil take me if I should dare to be as sacrilegious as
all that," said the commander. "But as we're not in the least hungry, it
is impossible for us to taste your _chef-d'oeuvre_."
"Yes, absolutely impossible," repeated the two young men.
The housekeeper did not utter a word, but a sudden contraction of her
features betrayed the violence of her resentment plainly enough.
Seizing a soup plate, she emptied nearly half the contents of the dish
into it; then, placing it in front of the astonished commander, said, in
tones of authority:
"You--you will eat it, monsieur."
"But listen, Mother Barbancon--"
"It is no use to 'Mother Barbancon' me. This is only the second time in
ten years that I have had occasion to make a snow custard. I made this
in honour of M. Olivier's and M. Gerald's marriages. There are no 'ifs'
and 'buts' about it; you are going to eat it."
The unfortunate veteran, seeing only hostile faces around him,--for
Gerald and Olivier, the traitors, pretended to uphold the
housekeeper,--attempted a compromise.
"All right. I will eat it to-morrow, Mother Barbancon," he said.
"As if a snow custard would keep until to-morrow!" retorted the
housekeeper, shrugging her shoulders. "You're going to eat it now, this
minute."
"I won't do anything of the kind," exclaimed the veteran, testily. "I'm
not going to kill myself for anybody."
"Kill yourself with a snow custard made by me!" exclaimed the
housekeeper, as sadly and reproachfully as if her employer had mortally
insulted her. "Ah, me! I little expected--after ten years of faithful
service--and on such--such a happy day--the day when M. Olivier is to
take a wife--to find myself--treated--like--this."
And the worthy woman began to sob violently.
"What on earth is the woman crying about?" exclaimed the veteran, in
despair. "You are crazy, my dear woman! Upon my word of honour, you must
be crazy!"
"Kill you! Ah, I shall not forget those words for many a long year, I
can tell you."
"Oh, come, come now! I'll eat the--Look, don't you see that I am eating
it now?" said the unfortunate commander, hastily swallowing a few
spoonfuls. "It is delicious, divine, this custard of yours. Are you
satisfied now?"
"Yes, monsieur; yes, that satisfies me," said the housekeeper, drying
her tears. "It was a nice custard. I said to myself while I was stirring
it, 'I certainly must give my recipe to M. Olivier's little wife.' I
must, mustn't I, M. Olivier?"
"Of course you must, Madame Barbancon, for Mlle. Ernestine is going to
prove a model housekeeper, I'm sure."
"And the grand pickles I'll teach her to make,--green as grass and crisp
as hazelnuts. Oh, you shall see what nice little dishes we will fix up
for you, your little wife and I."
Gerald, to whom M. de Maillefort had been obliged to confide the secret
of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's masquerade, could not help laughing heartily at
the idea of Madame Barbancon giving her cooking recipes to the richest
heiress in France.
"What are you laughing at, M. Gerald?" asked the housekeeper. "Have you
no confidence in my recipes?"
"I believe in them as I believe in the gospels. I am laughing just
because I am so happy, I suppose. That is only natural, I imagine, on
one's marriage day."
"There have been monsters who were more ferocious than ever on their
marriage day," responded Madame Barbancon, with a gloomy and profoundly
mysterious air.
"Nonsense!"
"Think, M. Gerald. Don't you recollect how he conducted himself on the
day of his marriage with Marie Louise?--the scoundrel!"
Madame Barbancon evidently thought it entirely superfluous to mention
the object of her execration by name.
"Come, Mother Barbancon, you had better give us our coffee now,"
interposed the commander. "It is nearly six o'clock."
"Well, monsieur, that wretch whom you admire so much, on the day of his
marriage with Marie Louise, behaved more cruelly than any tiger to that
darling little King of Rome, who, clasping his tiny hands, pleaded in
his fresh, sweet voice: 'Papa Emperor, do not desert poor Mamma
Josephine.'"
"Oh, yes, yes; I remember it very well," replied Gerald, with wonderful
_sang-froid_. "You are speaking of the King of Rome, Josephine's son."
"Certainly, M. Gerald; there were no other children. But, after all,
that is nothing in comparison to what the wretch had the audacity to do
to the Holy Father, on the very steps of the altar at Notre-Dame."
"What was it he did? I have forgotten."
"It seems," began Madame Barbancon, sententiously, "it seems that at
coronations the Pope always takes the crown and places it on the head of
the monarch he is crowning. You can imagine how much this must have
angered your Bu-u-onaparte, who was already in a huff because he had had
to kiss the Pope's toe in the middle of the Carrousel, before those
swaggering guards of his. But he kissed it, the scoundrel! He had to. If
he hadn't, the _petit homme rouge_, who was against Roustan, and for the
pope, would have wrung his neck that very night."
"The Pope's?" asked Gerald.
"Roustan's?" inquired Olivier.
"No, no, gentlemen, not theirs, but Bu-u-onaparte's. Still, no matter
about that. What I was going to say was that when the Holy Father was
about to crown him, what did that Corsican ogre you are so fond of
do--like the low common grocer that he was--but grab the crown from the
hands of the poor Holy Father and put it on his head with one hand,
while with the other he gave the Holy Father a sound rap on the skull,
as if to say to the French people: 'Down with religion, the clergy, and
all! It is only to me you must bow the knee.' It was such a blow that he
gave the poor Holy Father that he reeled and fell headlong on the steps
of the altar with his cap down over his eyes, and there he gave thanks
in Latin, that angel of a man! This goes to prove, M. Olivier," added
the housekeeper, as a sort of conclusion and moral, "that marriage only
renders Corsican ogres still more ferocious, while I am sure your and M.
Gerald's marriage to such dear girls as your sweethearts must be will
only make you still more kind and amiable."
And the worthy woman hurried off to bring the coffee and serve it while
Commander Bernard filled his big Kummer pipe.
The hilarity caused by Madame Barbancon's story soon gave place to
graver and nobler thoughts.
"In spite of her peculiarities, this good woman is right in reminding us
that our marriage ought to increase whatever good we have in us,"
remarked Gerald. "I hardly see how it can fail to do so, do you,
Olivier?"
Then perceiving that his friend had fallen into a sort of reverie,
Gerald laid a hand affectionately on his shoulder and asked:
"What are you thinking about, Olivier?"
"I was thinking, my dear Gerald, that it was while we were seated at
this table, just six months ago, that I spoke to you for the first time
about the charming girl everybody here called the duchess, and that you
replied: 'Duchesses, don't talk to me of duchesses. I've had enough of
them!' and now, thanks to you, she is a real duchess, the Duchesse de
Senneterre. How strangely things come about in this world of ours!"
"You are right, my dear boys," said the old naval officer, "and when the
present is all that one can desire, it is very pleasant to look back
upon the past. Six months ago, for example, who would have guessed that
my brave Olivier would now be on the eve of marrying a dear, sweet girl
who had saved my life at the risk of her own?"
"And who ever would have supposed that the Mlle. de Beaumesnil we
talked so much about, and upon whom I had matrimonial designs myself,
would ever have fallen in love with Olivier?" added Gerald, with a keen
look at his friend.
"Oh, don't say any more about that foolish affair, Gerald. It was a mere
whim on the part of a spoiled child,--a whim that is probably forgotten
even now."
"You are mistaken, Olivier," replied Gerald, gravely. "I have seen Mlle.
de Beaumesnil and talked with her, and though she is no older than your
Ernestine, she is not a spoiled or capricious child by any means, but a
young woman full of good sense and discernment."
"My opinion is that Mlle. de Beaumesnil is at least a young lady of
excellent taste, as she was so much pleased with my Olivier," exclaimed
the commander, gaily. "But it was too late; the fortress had already
surrendered to our dear little Ernestine, who isn't overburdened with
money, it is true, but who has the very bravest and noblest heart in the
world."
"You are right, uncle," replied Olivier. "The fortress had surrendered,
surrendered unconditionally, but even if I had not--"
"What do you mean?" asked Gerald, looking at his friend rather
anxiously. "If your affections had been fancy free, wouldn't you have
married Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"You're mad, Gerald; of course I wouldn't."
"But why?"
"Do you remember what you said here, at this very table, a few months
ago: that when an immensely wealthy man marries an attractive girl
because she is charming and worthy of him nobody disapproves of it; but
that when a man who has nothing, marries a woman who brings him an
enormous fortune, it is disgraceful. Those were almost his very words,
were they not, uncle?"
"Undoubtedly."
"One moment," exclaimed Gerald, unable to control his growing anxiety,
"you should also recall the arguments you yourself used, Olivier, to
overcome my scruples on the subject of Mlle. de Beaumesnil: if, in spite
of her immense fortune, it is evident that you love this young lady as
much as you would have loved her had she been poor and obscure, the most
suspicious person could not disapprove of such a marriage. Wasn't that
what Olivier said, commander, and didn't you agree with him?"
"That is true, M. Gerald; and I am sure nothing could be more just and
reasonable, but, thank Heaven, we have no such delicate question to deal
with in this instance. Olivier only acted like any other honourable man
in refusing to make a wealthy marriage because he loved elsewhere; it
was all perfectly natural, it seems to me. I am sure neither you nor I
ought to be at all surprised, for you are making a love match as well as
Olivier."
"A love match! That is the very word for it!" exclaimed the young
officer, enthusiastically. "Ernestine is as gentle and kind as she is
ingenuous; and then the dear girl is so grateful that a fine gentleman
like myself should be generous enough to marry her!" added Olivier,
smiling. "Ah, if you only knew what a charming letter she wrote me
yesterday, telling me that her relative consented to everything, and
that, if my intentions had not changed, the marriage contract could be
signed to-day. You cannot imagine anything more artless, and yet more
exquisitely modest and touching than this letter. It proves Ernestine to
be the very person I judged her to be from her countenance."
"I have never seen a more attractive face according to my ideas," said
the old officer.
"Is it not, my dear uncle? Her features are not so remarkably regular,
it is true, but what a gentle expression she has, and what a charming
smile, with her little white teeth. And then what superb chestnut hair
she has, and such a slender waist and such a pretty little hand, and
the tiniest foot imaginable!"
"Olivier, my boy," said the old officer, pulling out his watch, "you are
so engaged in enumerating your sweetheart's charms, that you forget it
is almost time to join her, to say nothing of the fact that M. Gerald
must have time to go home for his mother so as to take her with him to
Mlle. Herminie's house."
"We shall have plenty of time, commander," said Gerald, "but I cannot
tell you how delighted I am to see Olivier so deeply in love with his
Ernestine."
"Deeply in love, unquestionably, my dear Gerald, to say nothing of the
fact that I love her all the more devotedly because she is your dear
Herminie's most intimate friend."
"Really, Olivier, it is enough to turn one's head completely, to think
of so much happiness and felicity, after so many obstacles and
difficulties! Come, my friend, my brother,--for is it not almost as if
we were marrying two sisters, or they were marrying two brothers; upon
my word, the tears come to my eyes in spite of me, when I think of
it!--come, embrace me here before we start. We should look too absurd
doing it before all the grand relatives!"
And the two young men embraced each other with fraternal tenderness,
while Commander Bernard, anxious to maintain his dignity as a grand
relative, tried to conceal his emotion by puffing away lustily at his
pipe; after which, Gerald left in hot haste to escort his mother to
Herminie's.
Olivier and his uncle were about to start themselves, when they were
stopped by Madame Barbancon, who advanced towards them with measured
steps, holding on the palms of her extended hands, for fear of soiling
it, a superb white cravat starched to the last degree of stiffness and
folded ready for wear.
"What the deuce is that, Mother Barbancon?" asked the veteran, who had
already picked up his hat and cane, preparatory to departure.
"It is a cravat I have made for you, monsieur," said the worthy
housekeeper,--"a little surprise I ventured upon, as you have nothing
but your black cravat to wear on this happy day--and--I--I thought
that--"
And the worthy woman, quite overcome with excitement and emotion, burst
into tears, unable to finish the sentence.
The old officer, though he positively loathed the idea of swathing his
neck in this uncomfortable affair, was so deeply touched by this
attention on the part of his housekeeper that his voice trembled with
emotion, as he replied:
"Why, Mother Barbancon, Mother Barbancon, what extravagance! I really
ought to scold you well."
"See, there is a J and a B for Jacques Bernard, embroidered in each
corner," said the housekeeper, calling attention to this decoration with
manifest pride.
"True, there are my initials. See, Olivier!" said the good man,
delighted with this attention.
"Why, my dear, good woman, you have no idea what pleasure, what great
pleasure you have given me!" he added.
"Oh, thank you, monsieur," replied Madame Barbancon, as deeply touched
and as joyfully as if she had received the most generous reward.
"But it is getting late," she added. "Look, it is half past six. Quick,
monsieur, let me put it on for you."
"Put what on, Mother Barbancon?"
"Why, the cravat, monsieur."
"On me? The deuce take me, if--"
But a meaning look from Olivier made the old officer realise how much
chagrin he would cause the worthy housekeeper by refusing to don her
gift.
On the other hand, the good man had never worn a white cravat in his
life, and fairly shuddered at the idea of such a piece of neck-gear.
But his natural kindness of heart conquered, and, smothering a sigh, he
yielded his neck to Madame Barbancon, saying, in order to complete his
exclamation in a manner that would be more flattering to his
housekeeper:
"I meant to say, the deuce take me if I refuse, Mother Barbancon, but it
is much too fine for me."
"Nothing can be too fine for such an occasion as this, monsieur," said
the housekeeper, carefully adjusting the cravat. "It is a great pity
that you haven't something better to wear than that old blue coat you've
had at least seven years, but with your cross of the Legion of Honour
and this handsome cravat,"--pulling out the ends of the cravat until
they looked like two immense rabbits' ears, and then eying her work
complacently,--"you have no cause to blush for your appearance. Ah,
monsieur," she added, stepping back a little to see the effect better,
"it makes you look twenty years younger, doesn't it, M. Olivier?
Besides, it is so--so stylish--it makes you look like a notary, indeed
it does."
The poor commander, with his neck imprisoned in the huge cravat that
reached up to the middle of his cheeks, turned and looked in the little
mirror that hung over the mantel in his bedroom, and it must be
confessed that the effect was really very becoming.
"It's a pity it prevents me from turning my head," he said to himself,
"but, as Mother Barbancon says, it is rather becoming--and decidedly
professional looking," he added, with just the least bit of foppishness.
And the old officer passed his hand rather complacently through his
thick white hair.
"Come, uncle, it is quarter of seven," said Olivier, with all a lover's
impatience, "and quite time we were off."
"Very well, my boy, we will start at once. Give me my hat and cane,
Mother Barbancon," said the old officer, not daring to look either to
the right or left, for fear of disarranging the wonderful rabbit-eared
bow.
The evening was superb, and the distance from the Batignolles to the Rue
de Monceau very short, so the commander and Olivier proceeded modestly
on foot to Herminie's home.
Fortunately the exercise this involved softened the rigid folds of the
commander's cravat a little, and though he may have looked a little less
imposing when he reached his destination, this fact did not impair in
the least the noble expression of his honest, manly face.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE SIGNING OF THE MARRIAGE CONTRACTS.
On the very evening that the two marriage contracts were to be signed,
M. Bouffard, the owner of the house that sheltered Herminie, his
pianist, as he had styled her ever since the young girl began giving
lessons to his daughter,--M. Bouffard came after dinner to make his
usual tour of inspection, for rent day was close at hand.
He reached the house about half-past six in the evening, and seated
himself in Madame Moufflon's room to question her in regard to the
supposed financial condition of the tenants, and to ascertain if any of
them showed signs of uneasiness as the dread moment approached.
"Why, no, M. Bouffard. I can't say that any of them do," replied Madame
Moufflon, "that is, except the new tenant on the third floor."
"Well, what about him?" inquired M. Bouffard, anxiously.
"When he came here, three months ago, he was as pompous as a lord, but
in proportion as rent day approaches, he is becoming polite,
distressingly polite to me."
"I shall have to watch the fellow closely, then, Madame Moufflon, that
is a very bad sign. Ah, what a pity it is that that handsome young
fellow who paid my pianist's rent didn't take to those rooms on the
third floor. He wouldn't have--"
M. Bouffard never finished the sentence, for there came two or three
such violent knocks at the porte-cochere that Madame Moufflon and her
employer both bounded out of their chairs.
"Well, well, who is it that knocks as I, the owner of the house, would
not think of knocking?" exclaimed M. Bouffard. "Let me see who this
ill-mannered fellow is," added M. Bouffard, stepping to the door, as the
portress pulled the rope.
"The doors, please!" cried a stentorian voice, thus announcing that both
doors of the porte-cochere must be opened to admit a carriage.
M. Bouffard and the portress, amazed at this unheard-of demand, stood as
if petrified on seeing a tall powdered footman, attired in a bright blue
livery trimmed with silver braid, emerge from the shadow.
"Open both doors, quick!" said this liveried giant, authoritatively.
M. Bouffard was so overcome that he bowed low to the lackey.
"Will you never get the doors open? This is outrageous! The prince is
waiting--"
"The prince!" gasped M. Bouffard, with another even more profound bow to
the footman.
Just then another no less imperious blow of the knocker resounded.
Madame Moufflon drew the cord with an automatic movement exactly as
before, and again a voice cried from under the archway:
"Both doors, please!"
And another footman, clad in green and gold livery this time, stepped up
to the door of the porter's lodge, at which an acquaintance must have
been standing, for he exclaimed:
"What, Lorrain, is that you? I just saw your master's carriage. What's
the matter here? Why don't they open the doors? Are the porter and
portress asleep?"
"One would think they had glass eyes. Look at them, they don't move."
"And it is madame la duchesse they're keeping waiting. She never gets
impatient, oh, no!"
"Madame la duchesse!" repeated M. Bouffard, more and more astounded, but
still motionless.
"_Mille tonnerres!_ will you open the doors sometime to-night?" demanded
one of the footmen.
"But who do you wish to see?" asked M. Bouffard, awakening from his
stupor.
"Mlle. Herminie," said the tallest lackey, with an evident respect for
the person his master was about to visit.
"Yes, Mlle. Herminie," replied the other.
"The small door to the left, under the archway," said the portress, more
and more amazed. "I'll open the doors at once."
"A prince and a duchess, visiting my pianist!" gasped M. Bouffard.
Soon came another knocking, much more gentle this time, and another
footman in brown livery, with blue trimmings, came to complete the
assemblage of lackeys, exclaiming:
"Is everybody stone-deaf here? The doors, why don't you open the doors,
I say?"
M. Bouffard, desperate now, resolved to play a heroic part, so, while
the portress was tidying herself up a little so as to usher in
Herminie's aristocratic visitors, the ex-grocer rushed out to open the
double doors of the porte-cochere. This menial task performed, he had
barely time to draw back close to the wall to prevent himself from being
crushed by the broad breasts of two superb gray horses attached to an
elegant dark blue coupe that dashed in, and, skilfully guided by a tall
coachman, stopped short at a sign from one of the footmen, who had
stationed himself at Herminie's door.
A hunchback and a stout man, both dressed in black, alighted from this
handsome equipage, and Madame Moufflon made haste to announce to M.
Bouffard's pianist:
"M. le Prince Duc de Haut-Martel."
"M. Leroi, notary."
The first carriage had hardly left the door before a handsome landau
drove up.
Two ladies and a young man descended from this vehicle, and Madame
Moufflon, who thought she must be dreaming, announced to M. Bouffard's
pianist:
"Madame la Duchesse de Senneterre."
"Mlle. Berthe de Senneterre."
"M. le Duc de Senneterre."
An elegant brougham having followed these carriages, another guest
alighted, and Madame Moufflon announced:
"M. le Baron de la Rochaigue."
A few minutes afterwards the portress ushered into Mlle. Herminie's
apartment the following less pretentious personages:
"Commander Bernard."
"M. Olivier Raymond."
"Mlle. Ernestine Vert-Puis."
"Madame Laine."
These last two persons had come in a modest cab.
These duties performed, Madame Moufflon rejoined her employer, who was
pacing vehemently to and fro, under the porte-cochere,--his forehead
covered with big drops of sweat, so intense was his excitement,--saying
to himself:
"_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_ What can these great lords and ladies be doing in
my pianist's room? What do you suppose all this means, Mother Moufflon?"
"I don't know what to think,--my brain fairly whirls. I see stars, and
I'm so afraid of a stroke of apoplexy, I'm going to put my head under
the water spigot to cool it off."
"I have it!" suddenly exclaimed the ex-grocer, triumphantly. "My pianist
is giving a concert."
"I don't think so, for the last time I looked in I saw the ladies had
laid their wraps on the piano, which was closed, and the entire company
was standing in a row, while a notary--"
"What notary? Is there a notary here?"
"Yes, monsieur, the tall, stout man,--with a stomach twice as big as
yours. I announced him as 'M. Leroi, notary.' Well, he was seated at
Mlle. Herminie's table, with a pile of papers in front of him, and a
candle on each side--like a juggler."
"Perhaps he is one," exclaimed M. Bouffard, "or, possibly, a fortune
teller."
"But, as I told you just now, I announced him as a notary."
"True, true! Oh, well, I will stay awhile, and perhaps I shall be able
to find out something when they leave."
Such a brilliant assemblage had never honoured Herminie's modest little
home before, and the young girl experienced the liveliest satisfaction
and happiness at this unexpected denouement of a love that had seemed so
hopeless. But the pleasure of welcoming Mlle. Berthe de Senneterre,
Gerald's sister, and the eldest daughter of the duchess, filled her cup
of joy to overflowing.
"Ah, madame," Herminie had said to the duchess, in a voice trembling
with emotion,--for she appreciated the delicacy of this proceeding on
the part of Gerald's mother, and felt that it was intended to serve as
some reparation for the cruel words of the evening before,--"ah, madame,
if I had been asked my most earnest desire, it would have been to see
Mlle. de Senneterre here,--that is, if I had dared to hope for the
honour."
"Berthe takes too deep an interest in her brother's happiness not to
wish to be the first to welcome her new sister-in-law," replied Madame
de Senneterre, in gracious, even affectionate tones.
Then Mlle. de Senneterre, a charming girl, for she strongly resembled
Gerald both in appearance and character, had said to Herminie, with
delightful affability:
"Yes, mademoiselle, I was anxious to be the first to thank you, for my
brother is so happy, and I feel and know that he has a thousand reasons
to be."
"I wish I were more worthy to offer M. de Senneterre the only family
happiness he can lack," replied Herminie, gently.
And while the two young girls continued this interchange of affectionate
words, thus prolonging a little scene in which Herminie gave convincing
proof of perfect tact, rare distinction of manner, and a modest and
graceful dignity, the hunchback, more and more charmed with his adopted
daughter, said, in a whispered aside to Madame de Senneterre:
"Tell me frankly; do you think it would be possible for any person to do
better under the circumstances?"
"It is really wonderful. She has an air of the most perfect breeding,
combined with marvellous tact, and an apparent familiarity with all the
rules and customs of the very best society. In short, she is a born
duchess; that is all there is about it."
"And what do you think of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's betrothed,--Gerald's
friend and former comrade?"
"You are subjecting me to a hard test, marquis," replied Madame de
Senneterre, smothering a sigh, "but I am forced to admit that he is a
charming and exceedingly distinguished-looking man, and that I can see
little, if any, difference between this gentleman and a member of our
own set in manner and bearing. It seems inconceivable to me that people
of this class can be so polished and refined. Ah, marquis, marquis, what
are we coming to?"
"We are coming to the signing of the contracts, my dear duchess; but I
beg of you," added the hunchback, in a low tone, "not a word that would
lead Gerald's friend to suppose that that simply dressed girl is Mlle.
de Beaumesnil."
"You need feel no fears on that score, marquis. Incomprehensible as this
mystery seems to me, I shall not say a word. Have I not maintained the
strictest secrecy on the subject of Herminie's adoption? My son is still
ignorant of your intentions, but all these mysteries will necessarily be
cleared up when the marriage contracts are read."
"I will attend to that, my dear duchess," replied the hunchback. "All I
ask of you is that you will keep the secret until I authorise you to
speak."
"Oh, I promise you I will do that."
Leaving Madame de Senneterre, who had seated herself beside her
daughter, and near Herminie, the hunchback rejoined the notary, and said
a few words, to which that official replied with a smile of assent;
after which, the marquis said aloud:
"We should now give our attention to the reading of the contracts, I
think."
"Undoubtedly," replied Madame de Senneterre.
The different actors in the scene were grouped as follows:
Herminie and Ernestine were seated side by side. On Herminie's right sat
Madame and Mlle. de Senneterre, while to the left of Ernestine sat
Madame Laine, who was playing her modest role in a very satisfactory
fashion.
Standing behind Herminie and Ernestine were Gerald, Olivier, Commander
Bernard, and Baron de la Rochaigue, whose presence astonished Olivier
very much, and caused him no little vague uneasiness, though he was
still far from suspecting that Ernestine, the little embroideress, and
Mlle. de Beaumesnil were one and the same person.
M. de Maillefort had remained at the other end of the room, seated
beside the notary, who, taking up one of the documents, said to the
hunchback:
"We will begin, if agreeable to you, M. le marquis, with M. le Duc de
Senneterre's contract."
"Certainly," replied the hunchback, smiling. "Mlle. Herminie is older
than Mlle. Ernestine, so she is entitled to this honour."
Whereupon the notary, bowing slightly to his auditors, was about to
begin the reading of Herminie's marriage contract, when M. de le
Rochaigue, assuming one of his most imposing parliamentary attitudes,
said, impressively:
"I ask this honourable assembly's permission to make a few remarks prior
to the reading of these contracts."
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE BARON HAS HIS REVENGE.
Olivier Raymond, who had marvelled greatly at the baron's presence
before, became decidedly uneasy on hearing this request.
"M. le Baron de la Rochaigue has the floor," responded M. de Maillefort,
smiling.
"In heaven's name, what business has that man here?" Olivier whispered
to his friend.
"I haven't the slightest idea, upon my word," replied the young duke,
with the most innocent air imaginable, "but if we listen we shall soon
find out, I suppose."
The baron cleared his throat, slipped his left hand in the bosom of his
coat, and said, in his most impressive tones:
"In behalf of certain interests that have been entrusted to me, I beg M.
Olivier Raymond to be good enough to answer a few questions I should
like to put to him."
"I am at your orders, monsieur," replied Olivier, more and more
astonished.
"In that case, I have the honour to ask M. Olivier Raymond if I did not
recently offer him,--being empowered, authorised, and commissioned to do
so in the capacity of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's guardian,--if I did not
offer him, I repeat, the hand of my ward, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"Monsieur," replied Olivier, who was evidently quite as much incensed as
embarrassed by this question put to him in the presence of several
entire strangers,--"monsieur, I fail to see either the necessity or the
propriety of the question you just addressed to me."
"I am, nevertheless, obliged to appeal to the well-known honesty,
frankness, and sincerity of the honourable witness," said the marquis,
solemnly, "and adjure him to answer this question: Did I, or did I not,
offer him the hand of my ward, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"Well, yes, monsieur," answered Olivier, impatiently, "you did."
"And did not M. Olivier Raymond clearly, positively, and categorically
decline this offer?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Did not the honourable witness state, as the reason for this refusal,
the fact that his heart and honour were alike bound by an engagement
that would assure his happiness for life? Were these not, in substance,
this honourable gentleman's own words?"
"It is true, monsieur, and, thanks be to God! what was then my dearest
hope becomes a reality to-day," added the young man with an eloquent
look at Ernestine.
"Such disinterestedness is positively inconceivable," said the Duchesse
de Senneterre to her daughter, _sotto voce_. "It was associating with
such people that spoiled our poor Gerald so."
Mlle. de Senneterre cast down her eyes and dared not answer her mother,
who continued:
"But I fail to understand the situation. If this heroic gentleman
declined Mlle. de Beaumesnil, what are she and that idiotic guardian of
hers doing here? It is too much of a puzzle for me. Let us wait and
see."
In spite of the pride and delight that this public exposition of
Olivier's noble conduct excited in Ernestine's heart, she was by no
means entirely reassured in regard to the scruples he might feel when he
discovered that his little embroideress was Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
"I have now only to thank M. Olivier Raymond for the very honest,
explicit, and straightforward manner in which he has answered the
questions that have been addressed to him," said the baron, reseating
himself, "and to request this honourable assemblage to kindly take full
cognisance of my young friend's noble words."
"Why the devil does that long-toothed, pompous creature have to put in
his oar?" whispered Commander Bernard to Olivier, who was standing
beside him.
"I haven't the slightest idea, uncle. I am quite as much surprised to
find the man here as you are, and why he should desire to refer to the
offer he made me now, I cannot imagine."
"Oh, well, it can have no other ill effect than to make your dear
Ernestine still more fond of you on learning that you sacrificed a
colossal fortune on account of your love for her."
"It is just this sort of publicity given to a very natural act that so
annoys me," replied Olivier.
"You are right, my boy," chimed in the old officer. "One does such
things as that for one's own approval, not for the approval of others."
Then, turning to the Duc de Senneterre, he added:
"Say, M. Gerald, that little hunchback seated beside the notary is the
marquis you were telling us about, is it not?"
"Yes, commander."
"It is very odd. Sometimes he looks as cunning as a fox, and sometimes
as kind and gentle as a child. See how tenderly he is gazing at Mlle.
Herminie now."
"M. de Maillefort has as noble a heart as yours, commander. That means
everything."
"Hush, Gerald," whispered Olivier, "the notary is rising. He is about to
read your contract."
"It is a mere form," said Gerald. "The contract is of very little
consequence; the real conditions Herminie and I long since settled
between ourselves."
The excitement created by M. de la Rochaigue's interruption having
subsided, the notary began to read Herminie's and Gerald's marriage
contract; but when, after the customary preliminaries, the notary came
to the names and occupations of the parties, M. de Maillefort remarked
to him, smiling:
"Skip all that, monsieur, if you please; we know the names. Let us get
to the important point, the settlement of pecuniary interests between
the parties."
"Very well, M. le marquis," replied the notary.
So he continued:
"'It is agreed by this contract that any property which either of the
aforesaid parties now possesses, or may possess at any future time,
belongs, and shall belong absolutely to that party, entirely independent
of the other contracting party.'"
"It was you, my dear child," the marquis said to Herminie, interrupting
the notary, "who, when I explained to you, yesterday, the various
methods of settling questions of pecuniary interest between husband and
wife, insisted, from motives of delicacy, that each party should hold
his or her property absolutely independent of the other, for possessing
nothing yourself except the talent by which you have so honourably
maintained yourself up to the present time, you refused absolutely the
community of interests and property which M. de Senneterre is so anxious
to have you accept."
Herminie's eyes drooped, and she blushed deeply, as she replied:
"I am almost certain that M. de Senneterre will excuse and understand my
refusal, monsieur."
Gerald bowed respectfully, and Berthe, his pretty sister, whispered
delightedly to her mother:
"Mlle. Herminie's sentiments certainly harmonise with her charming and
noble face, do they not, mamma?"
"Certainly, oh, certainly," replied Madame de Senneterre, absently; for
she was saying to herself all the while: "By this delicacy of feeling,
my daughter-in-law, little suspecting that the marquis intends to make
her so rich, has virtually settled all her property upon herself,
entirely independent of my son; but she loves him so much that, when she
finds that she is rich, she is sure to change this state of affairs."
The notary continued: "'It is also hereby agreed that any male offspring
that may result from this marriage shall add to their name of Senneterre
that of Haut-Martel. This clause has been consented to by the parties
aforesaid, at the request of Louis Auguste, Marquis de Maillefort,
Prince Duc de Haut-Martel.'"
Herminie having made a slight movement as if of surprise, the hunchback
said to her, glancing at Gerald:
"My dear child, this is a slight concession to ancestral pride, to which
Gerald has given his consent, certain that you would have no objection
to seeing your son bear, in addition to his own illustrious name, the
name of a man who regards you and loves you as his own daughter."
A look of respectful tenderness and gratitude from Herminie was
sufficient answer, and the hunchback, turning to the notary, said:
"That is the concluding clause of the contract, is it not?"
"Yes, M. le marquis."
"Then we can now proceed with the reading of Mlle. Ernestine's contract,
can we not," asked the hunchback, "and sign both contracts at the same
time, afterwards."
"Certainly, M. le marquis," replied the notary.
"Now comes our turn, my boy," whispered the commander to his nephew.
"What a pity it is that I haven't a snug little fortune to settle upon
you and that dear child in the contract. But alas! all I shall be able
to bequeath to you, I'm afraid, is good old Mother Barbancon," added the
old officer, half sadly, half smilingly. "A queer wedding present she
would be! I did think of selling our six tablespoons so I could make
Ernestine a little present, but Mother Barbancon wouldn't listen to it.
Your wife would rather have the silver than jewelry, she said."
"And Mother Barbancon was right, uncle. But hush. He is beginning to
read our contract now," for the notary, picking up the second contract,
said aloud:
"Shall we also skip the names in this contract?"
"Yes, yes; go on," responded the marquis.
"In that case, I come at once to the first and only clause relative to
financial matters in this contract."
"It is not likely to be a lengthy one," whispered Commander Bernard.
"Permit me to interrupt you a moment, monsieur," said Olivier, smiling.
"This clause of the contract seems entirely superfluous to me, for, as I
had the honour to tell you yesterday, I have nothing but my pay, and
Mlle. Ernestine Vert-Puis possesses nothing, save her skill as an
embroideress."
"True, monsieur," replied the notary, smiling in his turn, "but as one
has to be married under some regime or other, I thought it advisable to
adopt this one, and state in the contract that you married Mlle.
Ernestine Vert-Puis under the community of goods regime, which
stipulates that the husband and wife shall hold and enjoy their property
in common."
"It would be more correct to say that we married under the community of
no-goods regime," responded Olivier, gaily, "but it makes no difference.
As it is customary, we accept the clause, do we not, Mlle. Ernestine?"
"Very willingly, M. Olivier," replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
"So, monsieur," continued the young man, laughing, "it is agreed that
Mlle. Ernestine and I each turn our entire property into one common
fund,--everything, from my one epaulette to her embroidery needle,--a
complete mutual renunciation, as it were."
"There will be only burdens to share," muttered the commander, with a
sigh. "Ah, I never before longed to be rich as I do to-day!"
"It is decided, then, that the clause stipulating for a community of
property shall remain; so I will proceed," said the notary.
"'The parties aforesaid marry under the community of property regime,
and, consequently, agree to share, hold, and enjoy in common all
property, real or personal, of any value whatsoever, of which they may
now or at any future time be possessed, in their own right, or by
inheritance.'"
"By inheritance! Poor things! My cross and my old sword are all they
have to expect from me, M. Gerald," whispered the veteran.
"Oh, nonsense, commander," replied Gerald, gaily. "Who knows but you may
die a millionaire?"
But as the old officer, not sharing this hope, shook his head, the
notary, turning to Ernestine and Olivier, asked:
"This provision is perfectly satisfactory to you, mademoiselle, and to
you, monsieur?"
"Whatever is satisfactory to M. Olivier is satisfactory to me," replied
Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
"I think the arrangement perfect," answered Olivier, gaily; "and I
assure you that never in your life did you insert in any contract a
clause that is less likely to excite controversy than this."
"We will now proceed with the signing of the contracts," said the
notary, gravely, rising as he spoke.
Madame de Senneterre, having taken advantage of the general movement, to
approach M. de la Rochaigue, now said, like one completely bewildered:
"My dear baron, will you be kind enough to tell me what all this
means?"
"What, madame la duchesse?"
"Why, all this mystery that is going on here."
"It is one that brought me nearly to the verge of madness a few days
ago, madame la duchesse."
"But does M. Olivier really believe that Mlle. de Beaumesnil is a poor
little embroideress?"
"Yes, madame."
"But why did he refuse the offer you made him?"
"Because he loved another, madame."
"And that other?"
"Was my ward."
"What ward?"
"Why, Mlle. de Beaumesnil," replied the baron, with a sort of ferocious
joy, delighted to subject another person to the same torture to which
the marquis had subjected him.
"Is it possible that you are trying to amuse yourself at my expense, M.
le baron?" demanded the duchess, arrogantly.
"Madame la duchesse cannot suppose that I am capable of forgetting
myself to such an extent as that."
"Then what does all this mystery mean? And why was it necessary that M.
Olivier should be made to repeat that he had refused Mlle. de
Beaumesnil's hand, though he is about to sign his marriage contract with
her? and--"
"I promised M. de Maillefort I would keep his secret, so you must apply
to him, madame la duchesse. He hasn't his equal for solving enigmas."
Despairing of obtaining any satisfaction from the baron, Madame de
Senneterre approached M. de Maillefort, and asked:
"Well, marquis, may I know the object--"
"In five minutes you shall know all, my dear duchess," replied the
hunchback.
Then he turned, apparently to give some final instructions to the
notary.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CONCLUSION.
As the little party approached the table where the two contracts lay,
Mlle. de Beaumesnil said to Herminie, in subdued tones, but evidently
with no little anxiety:
"Alas! the decisive moment has come! What will M. Olivier think? What
will he do? If I had committed some terrible crime and it was about to
be made public, I could not feel more anxious."
"Courage, Ernestine. You can leave everything to M. de Maillefort
without the slightest fear."
If Ernestine experienced dire misgivings in regard to Olivier's
scruples, the hunchback was no less uneasy in regard to those of
Herminie, who was still ignorant that she had figured in the marriage
contract as the adopted daughter of the Marquis de Maillefort, Prince
Duc de Haut-Martel.
So it was with considerable inward perturbation that the hunchback now
approached the young girl and said:
"You are to sign first, my child."
The notary presented a pen; the girl took it, and, with a hand trembling
with joyful emotion, signed, "Herminie."
"Well, my child, why do you stop there?" asked M. de Maillefort, as he
saw her about to return the pen to the notary.
And as his protegee turned and looked at him in silent surprise, the
hunchback continued:
"Go on, of course, my child, and sign yourself 'Herminie de
Maillefort.'"
"Ah, I understand now," Gerald said to his mother, with profound
emotion. "M. de Maillefort is the best and most generous of men."
Herminie continued to gaze at the hunchback in speechless astonishment,
but at last she said, hesitatingly:
"Why, monsieur, I cannot sign myself 'Herminie de Maillefort.' That
name--"
"My child," said the hunchback, in pleading tones, "have you not often
told me that you felt a truly filial affection for me?"
"I do, indeed, monsieur."
"And have you not more than once felt that you could best express your
gratitude by telling me that I manifested all a father's solicitude for
you?"
"Oh, yes, the tenderest, most devoted father's," exclaimed the girl,
earnestly.
"Then why should you not take my name?" asked the marquis, with a
winning smile. "You have already promised that your son, if you have
one, shall bear this name. Besides, are you not by your attachment to
me, and by my affection for you, my adopted child? Then why should you
not sign this contract as my adopted daughter?"
"I, monsieur?" exclaimed Herminie, unable to believe her own ears. "I
your adopted daughter?"
"Yes; think of my audacity. I am famed for it, you know. I even had you
so designated in the marriage contract."
"What do you say, monsieur?"
"Tell me," added the hunchback, with tears in his eyes, and in his most
persuasive tones, "tell me, do you not think I have justly earned the
great happiness of being able to say to every one, 'This is my
daughter?' Will you refuse to honour still more, by bearing it, an ever
honoured name?"
"Ah, monsieur," said Herminie, unable to restrain her tears, "such
kindness as yours--"
"Then sign at once, you obstinate child," said the marquis, smiling,
though his eyes were full of tears, "or else our friends here will
perhaps imagine that a beautiful and charming creature like you is
ashamed to have a poor hunchback like me even for an adopted father."
"Ah, such a thought as that--" exclaimed Herminie, quickly.
"Then sign, sign at once!" urged the marquis.
And with an affectionate movement, he took Herminie's hand, as if to
guide her pen, and, drawing her closer, said in a low tone so as not to
be overheard:
"Did not the loved one we both mourn implore me to be a father to her
daughter?"
Deeply moved by this allusion to her mother, half stunned by this
unexpected proposal, and finally vanquished by the affection and
gratitude she felt for the marquis, the young girl with a trembling hand
affixed the signature of Herminie de Maillefort to the document, little
suspecting what a generous gift she was thus accepting from the
hunchback, for she had no idea of the amount of his fortune.
Commander Bernard was so deeply affected by this scene, that, hastily
approaching the hunchback, he said:
"Monsieur, I am a retired naval officer, and Olivier's uncle. I have the
honour of knowing you only by all the good I have heard of you through
M. Gerald, and by the aid you so kindly rendered in securing Olivier's
promotion; but what you have just done for Mlle. Herminie shows such a
generous heart that I beg you will allow me to take you by the hand."
"Very gladly, I assure you, monsieur," said the marquis, responding to
the veteran's advances with marked cordiality, "I, too, have the honour
of knowing you only by the good I have heard of you through my dear
Gerald, M. Olivier's friend. I know, too, the sensible and high-minded
advice you gave Gerald in relation to his marriage with Mlle. de
Beaumesnil, and, as people of such a keen sense of honour are rare, I
deem a meeting with you a most fortunate thing. And it is very pleasant
to think that these meetings are likely to be frequent in the future,"
added the hunchback, smiling, "for you love Ernestine and Olivier as
devotedly as I love Herminie and Gerald, and we are certain to spend
many a delightful hour with these charming young people."
"Yes; as I have decided to live with Olivier and his wife, I shall see
you very often, I hope."
"And I, too, intend to live with my children, Herminie and Gerald, and
as our two daughters love each other like sisters, we shall be almost
like one happy family."
"Do you know, monsieur, if I were a religious man, the devil take me if
I shouldn't say that it was indeed the good God who had assured me such
a paradise in my old age. But I forget that these poor children are
dying of impatience to sign in their turn.
"So come, mademoiselle," he continued, turning to Ernestine, "and write
at once, at the bottom of this page, the name that gives me the right to
call you daughter. I really owe my life to you, though," added the old
officer, gaily, "so, in our case, the usual order of things is reversed,
and it is the daughter who gives life to the father."
Ernestine took the pen from the notary's hand, with a poignant anxiety,
which, for divers reasons, was shared by all the other actors in the
scene except Olivier and Commander Bernard, and affixed the name of
Ernestine Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil to the document. Then, with a
trembling hand, she offered the pen to Olivier. With a look of
inexpressible happiness, the young man stooped to append his signature
to the contract; but he had scarcely written the name of Olivier, when
the pen dropped from his fingers, and he remained for a moment leaning
over the table, silent and motionless, believing himself, in fact, the
victim of an optical delusion, as he saw, above the name he had just
begun to write, the signature of Ernestine Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil.
Those around him understood the cause of this astonishment so well, and
were so fully prepared for it, that they all maintained a profound
silence--all save the commander, who gazed at his nephew for a moment
with great surprise, and then exclaimed, excitedly:
"What the devil is the matter with you, my boy? Have you forgotten how
to write your name?"
But suddenly the strange silence of the other spectators seemed to
strike him, and he turned inquiringly to them; but upon every face, and
particularly upon the faces of Ernestine and Herminie, he noticed such a
grave, deeply troubled expression, that the veteran, not knowing what to
think, but apprehending some serious difficulty, again exclaimed:
"Olivier, my boy, what is the matter? What prevents you from signing?"
"Read that name, uncle," replied the young man, pointing with a
trembling finger to Ernestine's signature.
"Ernestine Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil!" exclaimed the old man, bringing the
contract closer to his eyes, as if he could not believe what he saw.
Then, turning to Ernestine, he cried:
"You--mademoiselle--you, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"Yes, monsieur," said M. de la Rochaigue; "I, Mlle. de Beaumesnil's
guardian, do declare, certify, and affirm that this young lady is my
ward. It was for this reason that my presence at her marriage was
indispensable."
Olivier had turned frightfully pale, and it was in a strangely altered
voice that he said, "Pardon my--my bewilderment,--every one here will
understand it. You--Mlle. de Beaumesnil! You, whom I thought poor and
alone in the world,--because you told me so. What object could you have
had in this deception?"
Seeing how deeply Olivier was wounded, Ernestine felt as if her heart
would break. Tears gushed from her eyes, and, clasping her hands
beseechingly, she faltered:
"Forgive me, M. Olivier! Oh, forgive me!"
There was such a touching simplicity in the words in which the young
girl thus implored forgiveness for being the richest heiress in France,
that everybody, even to the baron and Madame de Senneterre, was deeply
affected, and even Olivier felt the tears rise to his eyes.
M. de Maillefort felt that it was quite time to make a clear statement
of the facts of the case, and effectually silence Olivier's scruples,
for the hunchback perceived that the young man was not only amazed and
bewildered by the deception Mlle. de Beaumesnil had practised, but that
he was also suffering cruelly from the conflict between devoted love and
extreme sensitiveness that was raging in his breast.
"Will you have the goodness, M. Olivier, and you, too, commander, to
give me your attention for a few moments," said the marquis, "and this
mystery, which must both astonish and annoy you, shall be explained.
Mlle. de Beaumesnil, an orphan immensely wealthy, very young, and too
ingenuous herself to suspect the avaricious motives of those around her,
believed the exaggerated praise and the protestations of affection
lavished upon her, until, one day, an old friend of her mother's, who
was unfortunately powerless to protect her from them, felt that he must
at least warn her against the flattery, baseness, deceit, and cupidity
of those around her, and assured her that whatever might be the pretext
for the devotion manifested towards her, her enormous fortune was the
sole cause of it. This revelation was a terrible blow to Mlle. de
Beaumesnil. Afterwards, tormented by the fear that she would never be
loved except for her wealth, she began to find this distrust of
everybody and everything intolerable. So, there being no one to whom
she could turn for counsel and encouragement, Mlle. de Beaumesnil
courageously resolved to ascertain her real value, inasmuch as this
knowledge would enable her to judge of the sincerity of the adulations
and attentions that beset her on every side. But how was she to discover
the truth? There seemed to be only one way, viz., to divest herself of
the prestige that enveloped the rich heiress, and to present herself to
entire strangers as a poor and obscure orphan who was obliged to labour
hard for her daily bread."
"Enough, monsieur, enough!" cried Olivier, in tones of the deepest
admiration. "I understand it all now. What courage she displayed!"
"And she did that?" exclaimed Commander Bernard, clasping his hands
ecstatically. "What a brave girl to subject herself to such a test! But
I might have known it! A girl who would throw herself under a wagon
wheel to prevent me from being crushed by it--!"
"You hear what your uncle says, M. Olivier," said the marquis, "and,
whatever Mlle. de Beaumesnil's position may be now, have you not still a
heavy debt of gratitude to pay?"
"Ah, monsieur," exclaimed Olivier, "this debt of gratitude, the sacred
cause of the deepest affection, I hoped to repay by imploring Mlle. de
Beaumesnil to share my lot,--a lot much more fortunate than hers, as I
supposed, for I believed her to be both poor and friendless. But now,
I--I--"
"One word more, M. Olivier," hastily interrupted the marquis; "Mlle. de
Beaumesnil and I both knew and respected your extreme sensitiveness and
pride, so, to spare you the slightest feeling of self-reproach, we
arranged with M. de la Rochaigue here to offer to you the alternative of
breaking a sacred promise made to a young girl you believed poor and
friendless, or of refusing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand. You stood this
severe test nobly, unhesitatingly sacrificing the certainty of a
fabulously rich marriage to your affection for a poor little
embroideress. What greater proof of disinterestedness could you or any
one give?"
"That is true," said Commander Bernard. "I am as jealous of Olivier's
honour as any person could possibly be, but I want to remind him that,
though it is undoubtedly wrong to marry a woman for her money, it is
equally wrong, when one loves the noblest of creatures, to refuse to
keep a solemn promise and to repay a sacred obligation merely because
the dear child has a lot of money. Just suppose, Olivier, that Mlle.
Ernestine, who was so poor yesterday, has inherited nobody knows how
many millions from a relative this morning, and let that be the end of
it. This miserable money ought not to be allowed to ruin everybody's
happiness, surely."
"Oh, thank you, M. Bernard," exclaimed Ernestine, throwing her arms
around the old officer's neck, in a transport of filial affection,
"thank you for those kind, wise words which M. Olivier cannot, I am
sure, contradict."
"I defy him to do it," said Gerald, taking his friend's hand. "Remember,
too, my dear Olivier, what you said to me a few months ago, when there
was some talk of my marrying Mlle. de Beaumesnil."
"Besides, is it not Ernestine, the little embroideress that you and I
have always loved so much, M. Olivier?" said Herminie, in her turn.
"And you must permit me to say, monsieur," added Madame de Senneterre,
"that the disinterestedness you showed in refusing M. de la Rochaigue's
offer has made such a deep impression upon me, that in my eyes you will
always be the young man who refused the richest heiress in France to
marry a friendless and penniless young girl."
Olivier, though influenced in spite of himself by these proofs of esteem
and sympathy, nevertheless experienced a feeling of deep humiliation at
the idea of sharing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's immense fortune, so he said:
"I know that I have no right to show myself more fastidious and exacting
than the persons around me in matters where honour and delicacy are
involved; I know, too, that what I have just heard in relation to Mlle.
de Beaumesnil has only increased--if that were possible--my respect and
devoted love for her, and yet--" But the marquis, who read Olivier's
thoughts, again interrupted him by saying:
"One word more, M. Olivier. You experience a sort of humiliation at the
thought of sharing Mlle. de Beaumesnil's large fortune. I could
understand this feeling on your part, if you saw in the immense wealth
Ernestine brings you merely the means of leading an idle and luxurious
life at your wife's expense. Shame and ignominy should, indeed, attach
to any man who contracts such a marriage as that. But this will not be
your future, M. Olivier,--nor yours, Gerald; for though you and
Herminie, my daughter,--my beloved daughter,--are both ignorant of the
fact, and though her fortune is not to be compared with Ernestine's, of
course, I have settled upon my adopted daughter an income of about one
hundred and fifty thousand francs a year from property I have just
inherited in Hungary."
"Such a fortune as that for me!" exclaimed Herminie. "Oh, never, never,
I beseech you--"
"Listen to me, my child," said the hunchback, interrupting her, "and
you, too, listen, M. Olivier. Ernestine, in some touching pages that you
will read some day,--pages dedicated to her mother's memory,--in the
candour of her noble soul, wrote these words which I shall never forget:
"'I have a yearly income of three million francs!
"'All this wealth for my own use! Why should this be? Why should I have
so much and others nothing?
"'This immense fortune, how did I acquire it?
"'Alas! by your death, my father; and yours, my mother.
"'So, to make me rich, I had to lose the two whom I loved best in the
world.
"'And in order that I may be so rich, there must, perhaps, be thousands
of young girls like Herminie always in danger of want, however
irreproachable and laborious their lives may be.'
"Ah," added the marquis, with increasing warmth, "this generous cry of
an ingenuous heart, these words, artless as the truth that comes from
the mouth of a child, are a revelation. Yes, Ernestine, the inheritance
of wealth is a curse when it perpetuates the vices and degradation of an
idle and luxurious life; yes, the inheritance of wealth is a curse when
it arouses and excites the execrable passions of which you so narrowly
escaped becoming the victim, my poor, dear child! Yes, the inheritance
of wealth is a sacrilege when it concentrates in selfish hands the
millions which should furnish employment and the means of subsistence to
thousands of families; but the inheritance of wealth is also ennobling
in the highest degree when the inheritor zealously and faithfully
performs the sacred, indefinable, imprescriptible duties towards the
less favoured of fortune which the possession of great wealth imposes
upon him, and when he devotes his life to ameliorating the moral and
physical condition of those whom society disinherits in favour of a
privileged few. And now," said the hunchback, in conclusion, taking the
hands of Herminie and of Olivier, "tell me, my children, do you, who
were poor yesterday, see any disgrace or humiliation in becoming rich in
accordance with these principles of human fraternity? Do you shrink from
the sacred and often difficult duties which must be fulfilled each day
with wise discrimination and unwearying devotion--if one would secure
forgiveness for that gross inequality against which Ernestine in her
noble candour protests, when she says, 'Why should I have so much, and
others nothing?'"
"Ah, monsieur," cried Olivier, with enthusiasm, "Mlle. de Beaumesnil's
fortune is all too small for a work like that."
And picking up the pen with a hand trembling with joy and happiness, the
young man affixed his name to the contract.
"At last!" exclaimed Herminie and Ernestine, in the same breath,
throwing themselves into each other's arms.
* * * * *
As M. de Maillefort was entering his carriage in company with Herminie,
for the latter was to live in the house of her adopted father
henceforth, M. Bouffard, who was still a prey to the most intense
curiosity, suddenly presented himself to the hunchback's astonished
gaze.
"Ah, M. Bouffard, I am delighted to see you," remarked the marquis. "It
is truly said that Providence sometimes employs strange agents to attain
its ends, for you are one of these strange agents, my dear M. Bouffard."
"M. le marquis is too kind," responded M. Bouffard, not understanding in
the least what the marquis meant.
"Do you know one thing, my dear M. Bouffard? But for your pitiless greed
as a landlord, Mlle. Herminie, my adopted daughter, would not be the
Duchesse de Senneterre now."
"What, mademoiselle, my pianist, the daughter of a marquis, and the
Duchesse de Senneterre!" faltered M. Bouffard, as the hunchback and the
young girl stepped into the handsome coupe, which bore them swiftly
away.
* * * * *
A short time after the signing of these contracts, the fashionable
world was electrified by the following announcement cards:
"M. de la Rochaigue has the honour to announce the marriage of Mlle.
Ernestine de Beaumesnil, his ward, with M. Olivier Raymond."
"M. le Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, has the honour
to announce the marriage of Mlle. Herminie de Maillefort, his adopted
daughter, with M. le Duc Gerald de Senneterre."
THE END.