BELUS.
Madame de la Motte was not wrong in thinking that the cabriolet which
she saw driving off contained the two ladies who had just left her.
They had, in fact, found it waiting for them on their exit. It was
lightly built, open and fashionable, with high wheels, and a place
behind for a servant to stand. It was drawn by a magnificent bay horse
of Irish breed, short-tailed, and plump, which was driven by the same
man whom we have already heard addressed by the name of Weber. The
horse had become so impatient with waiting, that it was with some
difficulty that Weber kept him stationary.
When he saw the ladies, he said, “Madame, I intended to bring Scipio,
who is gentle and easy to manage, but unluckily he received an injury
last evening, and I was forced to bring Bélus, and he is rather
unmanageable.”
“Oh, Weber, I do not mind in the least,” said the lady; “I am well used
to driving, and not at all timid.”
“I know how well madame drives, but the roads are so bad. Where are we
to go?”
“To Versailles.”
“By the boulevards then, madame?”
“No, Weber; it freezes hard, and the boulevards will be dreadful; the
streets will be better.”
He held the horse for the ladies to get in, then jumped up behind, and
they set off at a rapid pace.
“Well, Andrée, what do you think of the countess?” asked the elder
lady.
“I think, madame,” she replied, “that Madame de la Motte is poor and
unfortunate.”
“She has good manners, has she not?”
“Yes, doubtless.”
“You are somewhat cold about her, Andrée.”
“I must confess, there is a look of cunning in her face that does not
please me.”
“Oh, you are always difficult to please, Andrée; to please you, one
must have every good quality. Now, I find the little countess
interesting and simple, both in her pride and in her humility.”
“It is fortunate for her, madame, that she has succeeded in pleasing
you.”
“Take care!” cried the lady, at the same time endeavoring to check her
horse, which nearly ran over a street-porter at the corner of the Rue
St. Antoine.
“Gare!” shouted Weber, in the voice of the Stentor.
They heard the man growling and swearing, in which he was joined by
several people near, but Bélus soon carried them away from the sound,
and they quickly reached the Place Baudoyer.
From thence the skilful conductress continued her rapid course down the
Rue de la Tisseranderie, a narrow unaristocratic street, always
crowded. Thus, in spite of the reiterated warnings of herself and
Weber, the numbers began to increase around them, many of whom cried
fiercely, “Oh! the cabriolet! down with the cabriolet!”
Bélus, however, guided by the steady hand which held the reins, kept on
his rapid course, and not the smallest accident had yet occurred.
But in spite of this skilful progress, the people seemed discontented
at the rapid course of the cabriolet, which certainly required some
care on their part to avoid, and the lady, perhaps half frightened at
the murmurs, and knowing the present excited state of the people, only
urged on her horse the faster to escape from them.
Thus they proceeded until they reached the Rue du Coq St. Honoré, and
here had been raised one of the most beautiful of those monuments in
snow of which we have spoken.
Round this a great crowd had collected, and they were obliged to stop
until the people would make an opening for them to pass, which they did
at last, but with great grumbling and discontent.
The next obstacle was at the gates of the Palais Royal, where, in a
courtyard, which had been thrown open, were a host of beggars crowding
round fires which had been lighted there, and receiving soup, which the
servants of M. le Duc d’Orleans were distributing to them in earthen
basins; and as in Paris a crowd collects to see everything, the number
of the spectators of this scene far exceeded that of the actors.
Here, then, they were again obliged to stop, and to their dismay, began
to hear distinctly from behind loud cries of “Down with the cabriolet!
down with those that crush the poor!”
“Can it be that those cries are addressed to us?” said the elder lady
to her companion.
“Indeed, madame, I fear so,” she replied.
“Have we, do you think, run over any one?”
“I am sure you have not.”
But still the cries seemed to increase. A crowd soon gathered round
them, and some even seized Bélus by the reins, who thereupon began to
stamp and foam most furiously.
“To the magistrate! to the magistrate!” cried several voices.
The two ladies looked at each other in terror. Curious heads began to
peep under the apron of the cabriolet.
“Oh, they are women,” cried some; “Opera girls, doubtless,” said
others, “who think they have a right to crush the poor because they
receive ten thousand francs a month.”
A general shout hailed these words, and they began again to cry, “To
the magistrate!”
The younger lady shrank back trembling with fear; the other looked
around her with wonderful resolution, though with frowning brows and
compressed lips.
“Oh, madame,” cried her companione, “for heaven’s sake, take care!”
“Courage, Andrée, courage!” she replied.
“But they will recognize you, madame.”
“Look through the windows, if Weber is still behind the cabriolet.”
“He is trying to get down, but the mob surrounds him. Ah! here he
comes.”
“Weber,” said the lady in German, “we will get out.”
The man vigorously pushed aside those nearest the carriage, and opened
the door. The ladies jumped out, and the crowd instantly seized on the
horse and cabriolet, which would evidently soon be in pieces.
“What in heaven’s name does it all mean? Do you understand it, Weber?”
said the lady, still in German.
“Ma foi, no, madame,” he replied, struggling to free a passage for them
to pass.
“But they are not men, they are wild beasts,” continued the lady; “with
what do they possibly reproach me?”
She was answered by a voice, whose polite and gentlemanly tone
contrasted strangely with the savage murmurs of the people, and which
said in excellent German, “They reproach you, madame, with having
braved the police order, which appeared this morning, and which
prohibited all cabriolets, which are always dangerous, and fifty times
more so in this frost, when people can hardly escape fast enough, from
driving through the streets until the spring.”
The lady turned, and saw she was addressed by a young officer, whose
distinguished and pleasing air, and fine figure, could not but make a
favorable impression.
“Oh, mon Dieu, monsieur,” she said, “I was perfectly ignorant of this
order.”
“You are a foreigner, madame?” inquired the young officer.
“Yes, sir; but tell me what I must do? they are destroying my
cabriolet.”
“You must let them destroy it, and take advantage of that time to
escape. The people are furious just now against all the rich, and on
the pretext of your breaking this regulation would conduct you before
the magistrate.”
“Oh, never!” cried Andrée.
“Then,” said the officer, laughing, “profit by the space which I shall
make in the crowd, and vanish.”
The ladies gathered from his manner that he shared the opinion of the
people as to their station, but it was no time for explanations.
“Give us your arm to a cab-stand,” said the elder lady, in a voice full
of authority.
“I was going to make your horse rear, and thereby clear you a passage,”
said the young man, who did not much wish to take the charge of
escorting them through the crowd; “the people will become yet more
enraged, if they hear us speaking in a language unknown to them.”
“Weber,” cried the lady, in a firm voice, “make Bélus rear to disperse
the crowd.”
“And then, madame?”
“Remain till we are gone.”
“But they will destroy the carriage.”
“Let them; what does that matter? save Bélus if you can, but yourself
above all.”
“Yes, madame;” and a slight touch to the horse soon produced the
desired effect of dispersing the nearest part of the crowd, and
throwing down those who held by his reins.
“Your arm, sir!” again said the lady to the officer; “come on, petite,”
turning to Andrée.
“Let us go then, courageous woman,” said the young man, giving his arm,
with real admiration, to her who asked for it.
In a few minutes he had conducted them to a cab-stand, but the men were
all asleep on their seats.