A great pleasure was in store for Gilbert at his awakening; he rose
as the sun began to appear, and having dressed, hastened to the
window to see what view it offered.
The rotunda which had been assigned to him for a lodging formed the
entire upper story of a turret which flanked one of the angles of
the castle. This turret, and a great square tower situated at the
other extremity of the same front, commanded a view of the north,
and from this side the rock descended perpendicularly, forming an
imposing precipice of three hundred feet. When Gilbert's first
glance plunged into the abyss where a bluish vapor floated, which
the rising sun pierced with its golden arrows, the spectacle
transported him. To have a precipice under his window, was a
novelty which gave him infinite joy. The precipice was his domain,
his property, and his eyes took possession of it. He could not
cease gazing at the steep, wall-like rocks, the sides of which were
cut by transverse belts of brush-wood and dwarf trees. It was long
since he had experienced such a lively sensation, and he felt that
if his heart was old, his senses were entirely new. The fact is
that at this moment, Gilbert, the grave philosopher, was as happy
as a child, and in listening to the solemn murmur of the Rhine,
with which mingled the croaking of a raven and the shrill cries of
the martins, who with restless wings grazed the abutments of the
ancient turret, he persuaded himself that the river raised its
voice to salute him, that the birds were serenading him, and that
all nature celebrated a fete of which he was the hero.
He could hardly tear himself from his dear window to breakfast, and
he was again engaged in contemplation when M. Leminof entered the
room. He did not hear him, and it was not until the Count had
coughed three times that he turned his head. Perceiving the enemy,
Gilbert started, but quickly recovered himself. The nervous start,
however, which he had not been able to conceal, caused the Count to
smile, and his smile embarrassed Gilbert. He felt that M. Leminof
would regulate his conduct to him upon the impression he should
receive in this first interview, and he determined to keep close
watch upon himself.
Count Kostia was a man of middle age, very tall and well made,
broad-shouldered, with lofty bearing, a forehead stern and haughty,
a nose like the beak of a bird of prey, a head carried high and
slightly backwards, large, wide open gray eyes which shot glances
at once piercing and restless, an expressive face regularly cut, in
which Gilbert found little to criticise except that the eyebrows
were a little too bushy, and the cheek bones a little too
prominent; but what did not please him was, that M. Leminof
remained standing while praying him to be seated, and as Gilbert
made some objections the Count cut him short by an imperious
gesture and a frown.
"Monsieur le Comte," said Gilbert mentally, "you do not leave this
room until you have been seated too!"
"My dear sir," said the Count, pacing the room with folded arms,
"you have a very warm friend in Dr. Lerins. He sets a great value
upon your merit; he has even been obliging enough to give me to
understand that I was quite unworthy of having such a treasure of
wisdom and erudition in my house. He has also expressly
recommended me to treat you with the tenderest consideration; he
has made me feel that I am responsible for you to the world, and
that the world will hold me to a strict account. You are very
fortunate, sir, in having such good friends, they are among
Heaven's choicest blessings."
Gilbert made no answer but bit his lips and looked at the floor.
"M. Lerins," continued the Count, "informs me also, that you are
both timid and proud, and he desires me to deal gently with you.
He pretends that you are capable of suffering much without
complaint. This is an accomplishment which is uncommon nowadays.
But what I regret is, that our excellent friend M. Lerins
apparently considers me a sort of human wolf. I should be very
unhappy if I inspired you with fear." Then, turning half round
towards Gilbert: "Let us see, look at me well; have I claws at the
ends of my fingers?"
Poor Gilbert inwardly cursed M. Lerins and his indiscreet zeal.
"Oh, Monsieur le Comte," replied he in his frankest tones and with
the most tranquil air he could command, "I never suspect claws in a
fellow-creature;--only when occasion makes me feel them, I cry out
loudly and defend myself."
The sound of Gilbert's voice, and the expression of his face,
struck M. Leminof. It was his turn if not to start (he seldom
started) at least to be astonished. He looked at him an instant in
silence, and then resumed in a more sardonic tone:
"This is not all; M. Lerins (ah! what an admirable friend you have
there!) desires also to inform me that you are, sir, what is called
nowadays, a beautiful soul. What is 'a beautiful soul?' I know
nothing of the species." While thus speaking he seemed to be
looking by turns for a fly on the ceiling and a pin on the floor.
"I have old-fashioned ideas of everything, and I do not understand
the vocabulary of my age. I know a beautiful horse very well or a
beautiful woman;--but A BEAUTIFUL SOUL! Do you know how to explain
to me, sir, what 'this beautiful soul' is?"
Gilbert did not answer a word. He was entirely occupied in
addressing to Heaven the prayer of the philosopher: "Oh, my God!
save me from my friends, and I will take care of my enemies." "My
questions seem to you perhaps a little indiscreet," pursued M.
Leminof; "but M. Lerins is responsible for them. His last letter
caused me great uneasiness. He introduces you to me as an
exceptionable being; it is natural that I should wish to enlighten
myself, for I detest mysteries and surprises. I once heard of a
little Abyssinian prince, who to testify his gratitude to the
missionary who had converted him, sent to him, as a present, a
large chest of scented wood. When the missionary opened the chest,
he found in it a pretty living Nile crocodile. Fancy his delight!
Experiences like this teach prudence. So when our excellent friend
M. Lerins sends me a present of a beautiful soul, it is natural
that I should unpack it with caution, and that before I install
this beautiful soul in my house, I should seek to know what is
inside of it. A beautiful soul!" he repeated, in a less ironical
but harsher tone, "by dint of pondering upon it, I divine to be a
soul which has a passion for the trumpery of sentiment. In this
case, sir, suffer me to give you a piece of advice. Madame Leminof
had a great fancy for Chinese ornaments, and she filled her parlors
with them. Unfortunately, I am a little brusque, and it happened
more than once that I overturned her tables laden with porcelain
and other gewgaws. You can judge how well she liked it! My dear
sir, be prudent, shut up your Chinese ornaments carefully in your
closets, and carry the keys."
"I thank you for the advice," answered Gilbert gently; "but I am
distressed to see that you have received a very false idea of me.
Will you permit me to describe myself as I am?"
"I have no objection," said he.
"To begin then 'I am not a beautiful soul,' I am simply a good
soul, or if you like it better, an honest fellow who takes things
as they come and men as they are; who prides himself upon nothing,
pretends to nothing, and who cares not a straw what others think of
him. I do not deny that in my early youth I was subject, like
others, to what a man of wit has called 'the witchery of nonsense;'
but I have recovered from it entirely. I have found in life a
morose and rather brutal teacher, who has taught me the art of
living by severe discipline; so whatever of the romantic was in me
has taken refuge in my brains, and my heart has become the most
reasonable of all hearts. If I had the good fortune to be at the
same time an artist and rich, I should take life as a play; but
being neither the one nor the other I treat it as a matter of
business."
M. Leminof commenced his walk again, and in passing Gilbert, gave
him a look at once haughty and caressing, such as a huge mastiff
would cast upon a spaniel, who fearing nothing, would approach his
great-toothed majesty familiarly and offer to play with him. He
growls loudly, but feels no anger. There is something in the eye
of a spaniel which forces the big dogs to take their familiarity in
good part.
"Ah, then, sir," said the Count, "by your own avowal you are a
perfect egotist. Your great aim is to live, and to live for
yourself."
"It is nearly so," answered Gilbert, "only I avoid using the word,
it is a little hard. Not that I was born an egotist, but I have
become one. If I still possessed the heart I had at twenty, I
should have brought here with me some very romantic ideas. You may
well laugh, sir, but suppose I had arrived at your castle ten years
ago; it would have been with a fixed intention of loving you a
great deal, and of making you love me. But now, mon Dieu! now I
know a little of the world, and I say to myself that there can be
no question between us but a bargain, and that good bargains should
be advantageous to both parties."
"What a terrible man you are," cried the Count with a mocking
laugh. "You destroy my illusions without pity, you wound my
poetical soul. In my simplicity, I imagined that we should be
enamored of each other. I intended to make an intimate friend of
my secretary,--the dear confidant of all my thoughts, but at the
moment when I was prepared to open my arms to him, the ingrate says
to me in a studied tone: 'Sir, there is nothing but the question of
a bargain between us; I am the seller, you are the buyer; I sell
you Greek, and you pay me cash down.' Peste! Monsieur, 'your
beautiful soul' does not pride itself on its poetry. As an
experiment, I will take you at your word. There is nothing but a
bargain between us. I will make the terms and you will agree
without complaint, though I am the Turk and you the Moor."
"Pardon me," answered Gilbert, "it is naturally to your interest to
treat me with consideration. You may give me a great deal to do, I
shall not grudge my time or trouble, but you must not overburden
me. I am not exacting, and all that I ask for is a few hours of
leisure and solitude daily to enjoy in peace.
M. Leminof stopped suddenly before Gilbert, his hands resting upon
his hips.
"You will sit down, you will sit down, Monsieur le Comte," muttered
Gilbert between his teeth.
"So you are a dreamer and an egotist," said M. Leminof, looking
fixedly at him. "I hope, sir, that you have the virtues of the
class. I mean to say, that while wholly occupied with yourself,
you are free from all indiscreet curiosity. Egotism is worth its
price only when it is accompanied by a scornful indifference to
others. I will explain: I do not live here absolutely alone, but I
am the only one with whom I desire you to have any intimate
acquaintance. The two persons who live in this house with me know
nothing of Greek, and therefore need not interest you. Remember, I
have the misfortune of being jealous as a tiger, and I intend that
you shall be mine without any division. And as for your fantasies,
should you think better of it, you will find me always ready to
admire them; but you show them to no one else, you understand, to
no one!"
Count Kostia pronounced these last words with a tone so emphatic
that Gilbert was surprised, and was on the point of asking some
explanation; but the stern and almost threatening look of the Count
deterred him. "Your instructions, sir," answered he, "are
superfluous. To finish my own portrait, I am not very expansive,
and I have but little sociability in my character. To speak
frankly, solitude is my element; it is inexpressibly sweet to me.
Do you wish to try me? If so, shut me up under lock and key in
this room, and provided you have a little food passed through the
door to me daily, you will find me a year hence seated at this
table, fresh, well and happy, unless perhaps," he added, "I should
be unexpectedly attacked with some celestial longing, in which
case, I could some fine day easily fly out of the window; the loss
wouldn't be very great. Finding the cage empty, you would say, 'He
has grown his wings, poor fellow--much good may they do him.'"
"I don't admit that," cried the Count, "Monsieur Secretary. You
please me immensely, and for fear of accident, I will have this
window barred."
With these words he drew a chair towards him, and seated himself
facing Gilbert, who could have clapped his hands at this propitious
result. Their conversation then turned upon the Byzantine Empire
and its history. The Count unfolded to Gilbert the plan of his
work, and the kind of researches he expected from him. This
conversation was prolonged for several hours.