"POOR LITTLE ALIX!"
Hardly had we made a few steps into the room when a young girl rose and
advanced, supported on the arm of a young man slightly overdressed. His
club and pigeon-wings were fastened with three or four pins of gold, and
his white-powdered queue was wrapped with a black velvet ribbon shot with
silver. The heat was so great that he had substituted silk for velvet, and
his dress-coat, breeches, and long vest were of pearl-gray silk, changing
to silver, with large silver buttons. On the lace frill of his embroidered
shirt shone three large diamonds, on his cravat was another, and his
fingers were covered with rings.[20] The young girl embraced us with
ceremony, while her companion bowed profoundly. She could hardly have
been over sixteen or seventeen. One could easily guess by her dress that
the pretty creature was the slave of fashion.
"Madame du Rocher," said Charles du Clozel, throwing a wicked glance upon
her.
"Madame!" I stammered.
"Impossible!" cried Suzanne.
"Don't listen to him!" interrupted the young lady, striking Charles's
fingers with her fan. "He is a wretched falsifier. I am called Tonton de
Blanc."
"The widow du Rocher!" cried Olivier, from the other side.
"Ah, this is too much!" she exclaimed. "If you don't stop these ridiculous
jokes at once I'll make Neville call you out upon the field of battle." ...
But a little while afterward Celeste whispered in my ear that her
brothers had said truly. At thirteen years Tonton, eldest daughter of
Commandant Louis de Blanc and sister of Chevalier de Blanc, had been
espoused to Dr. du Rocher, at least forty years older than she. He was
rich, and two years later he died, leaving all his fortune to his
widow.... One after another Madame de la Houssaye introduced to us at
least twenty persons, the most of whose names, unfortunately, I have
forgotten. I kept notes, but have mislaid them....
A few moments before dinner the countess re-appeared among us, followed by
two servants in livery bearing salvers of fruit; and while we ate she
seated herself at the harpsichord and played.
"Do you sing?" she asked me.
"A little, madame."
[The two sisters sang a song together.]
"Children," she cried, "tell me, I pray you, who taught you that duet?"
"A young French lady, one of our friends," replied Suzanne.
"But her name! What is her name?"
"Madame Carpentier."
The name meant nothing to her. She sighed, and asked us to sing on.... At
dinner we met again my father and the count. After dinner the countess
sent for me to come to her chamber while she was nursing her babe. After a
few unimportant words she said:
"You have had your lessons from a good musician."
"Yes, madame, our friend plays beautifully on the harp."
"On the harp! And you say her name is--"
"Madame Joseph Carpentier."
"It is strange," said Madame de la Houssaye. "The words of your duet are
by me, and the music by my friend the Viscomptesse Alix de Morainville.
All manner of things have happened in this terrible Revolution; I had for
a moment the hope that she had found chance to emigrate and that you had
met her. Do you know M. Carpentier?"
"Yes, madame; he was with her. He is--in fact--a laboring gardener."
"Oh! then there is no hope. I had the thought of a second marriage, but
Alix de Morainville could never stoop so low. Poor, dear, innocent little
Alix! She must be dead--at the hand of butchers, as her father and her
husband are."
When we returned to the joyous company in the garden all wanted to speak
at once. The countess imposed silence, and then Tonton informed us that a
grand ball was proposed in our honor, to be given in the large dining-room
of Mr. Morphy's tavern, under the direction of Neville Déclouet, the
following Monday--that is, in four days.
Oh, that ball! I lay my pen on the table and my head in my hands and see
the bright, pretty faces of young girls and richly clad cavaliers, and
hear the echoes of that music so different from what we have to-day. Alas!
the larger part of that company are sleeping now in the cemetery of St.
Martinville.
Wherever you went, whoever you met, the ball was the subject of all
conversation. All the costumes, masculine and feminine, were prepared in
profound secrecy. Each one vowed to astonish, dazzle, surpass his
neighbor. My father, forgetting the presents from Alix, gave us ever so
much money and begged Madame du Clozel to oversee our toilets; but what
was the astonishment of the dear baroness to see us buy only some vials of
perfumery and two papers of pins. We paid ten dollars for each vial and
fifteen for the pins!
Celeste invited us to see her costume the moment it reached her. It
certainly did great honor to the dressmaker of St. Martinville. The dress
was simply made, of very fine white muslin caught up _en paniers_ on a
skirt of blue satin. Her beautiful black hair was to be fastened with a
pearl comb, and to go between its riquettes she showed us two bunches of
forget-me-nots as blue as her eyes. The extremely long-pointed waist of
her dress was of the same color as the petticoat, was decolleté, and on
the front had a drapery of white muslin held in place by a bunch of
forget-me-nots falling to the end of the point. In the whole village she
could get no white gloves. She would have to let that pass and show her
round white arms clasped with two large bracelets of pearls. She showed
also a necklace and earrings of pearls.
Madame du Clozel, slave to the severe etiquette of that day, did not
question us, but did go so far as to say in our presence that camayeu was
never worn at night.
"We know that, madame," replied my sister, slightly hurt. We decided to
show our dresses to our hostess. We arranged them on the bed. When the
baroness and her daughter entered our chamber they stood stupefied. The
baroness spoke first.
"Oh, the villains! How they have fooled us! These things are worthy of a
queen. They are court costumes."