RESEARCHES.
The house which Rodolph had in the Allée des Veuves was not his usual
place of residence; he lived in one of the largest mansions in the
Faubourg St. Germain, situated at the end of the Rue Plumet and the
Boulevard des Invalides.
To avoid the honours due to his sovereign rank, the prince had preserved
his incognito since his arrival in Paris, his _chargé d'affaires_ at the
court of France having announced that his master would pay his official
and indispensable visits under the name and title of the Count de Duren.
Thanks to this usage (a very common one in the Northern courts), a
prince may travel with as much liberty as pleasure, and escape all the
bore of ceremonious introductions. In spite of his slight incognito,
Rodolph kept up in his mansion full state and etiquette. We will
introduce the reader into the hôtel of the Rue Plumet, the day after the
Chourineur had started for Algiers.
The clock had just struck ten, A.M. In the middle of a large salon on
the ground floor and which formed the antechamber to Rodolph's business
chamber, Murphy was seated before a bureau, and sealing several
despatches. A groom of the chambers, dressed in black and wearing a
silver chain around his neck, opened the folding-doors and announced:
"His Excellency M. le Baron de Graün."
Murphy, without ceasing from his employment, received the baron with a
nod at once cordial and familiar.
"M. le Chargé d'Affaires," said he, smiling, "will you warm yourself at
the fire? I will be at your service in one moment."
"M. the Private Secretary, I await your leisure," replied M. de Graün,
gaily, and making, with mock respect, a low and respectful bow to the
worthy squire.
The baron was about fifty years of age, with hair gray, thin, and
lightly curled and powdered. His chin, rather projecting, was partly
concealed in a high cravat of white muslin, starched very stiffly, and
of unimpeachable whiteness. His countenance was expressive of great
intelligence, and his carriage was _distingué_; whilst beneath his gold
spectacles there beamed an eye as shrewd as it was penetrating. Although
it was only ten o'clock in the morning, M. de Graün wore a black
coat,--that was etiquette,--and a riband, shot with several bright
colours, was suspended from his buttonhole. He placed his hat on a chair
and took his station near the fireplace, whilst Murphy continued his
work.
"His royal highness, no doubt, was up the best part of the night, my
dear Murphy, for your correspondence appears considerable?"
"Monseigneur went to bed at six o'clock this morning. He wrote, amongst
other letters, one of eight pages to the Grand Marshal, and dictated to
me one equally long to the Chief of the Upper Council, the Prince
Herkhaüsen-Oldenzaal, his royal highness's cousin."
"You know that his son, Prince Henry, has entered as lieutenant in the
guards in the service of his Majesty the Emperor of Austria?"
"Yes; monseigneur recommended him most warmly as his relation; and he
really is a fine, excellent young man, handsome as an angel, and as good
as gold."
"The fact is, my dear Murphy, that if the young Prince Henry had had his
_entrée_ to the grand ducal abbey of Ste. Hermenegilde, of which his
aunt is the superior, the poor nuns--"
"Baron! baron! why--"
"My dear sir, the air of Paris--But let us talk seriously. Shall I await
the rising of his royal highness to communicate all the particulars
which I have procured?"
"No, my dear baron. Monseigneur has desired that he should not be called
before two or three o'clock in the afternoon; he desires, also, that you
send off this morning these despatches by a special courier, instead of
waiting till Monday. You will entrust me with all the particulars you
have acquired, and I will communicate them to monseigneur when he wakes.
These are his orders."
"Nothing can be better, and I think his royal highness will be satisfied
with what I have collected. But, my dear Murphy, I hope the despatch of
the special courier is not a bad sign; the last despatches which I had
the honour of sending to his royal highness--"
"Announced that all was going on well at home; and it is precisely
because my lord is desirous of expressing as early as possible his
entire satisfaction, that he wishes a courier to be despatched this very
day to Prince Herkhaüsen-Oldenzaal, Chief of the Supreme Council."
"That is so like his royal highness; were it to blame instead of
commend, he would observe less haste."
"Nothing new has transpired with us, my dear baron,--nothing at all. Our
mysterious adventures--"
"Are wholly unknown. You know that, since the arrival of his royal
highness in Paris, his friends have become used to see him but little in
public; it is understood that he prefers seclusion, and is in the habit
of making frequent excursions to the environs of Paris, and, with the
exception of the Countess Sarah Macgregor and her brother, no person is
aware of the disguises assumed by his royal highness; and neither of the
personages I have mentioned have the smallest interest in betraying the
secret."
"Ah! my dear baron," exclaimed Murphy, heaving a deep sigh, "what an
unfortunate thing it is that this accursed countess should be left a
widow at this very important moment!"
"She was married, I think, in 1827 or 1828?"
"In 1827, shortly after the death of the unfortunate child, who would
now be in her sixteenth or seventeenth year, and whose loss his royal
highness seems daily more to deplore."
"Far more so, indeed, than he appears to feel for the loss of his
legitimate offspring."
"And thus, my dear baron, we may account for the deep interest his royal
highness takes in the poor Goualeuse, arising as it does from the fact
that the daughter so deeply deplored would, had she lived, have been
precisely the same age as this unfortunate young creature."
"It is, indeed, an unfortunate affair that the Countess Sarah, from whom
we fancied we were for ever freed, should have become a widow exactly
eighteen months after his royal highness had been deprived by death of
the wife with whom he had passed years of wedded happiness. The
countess, I am persuaded, looks upon this double freedom from all
marriage vows as a signal intervention of Providence to further her
views."
"And her impetuous passion has become more ardent than ever, though she
is well aware that my lord feels for her the deepest aversion and
well-merited contempt. Was not her culpable indifference the cause of
her child's death? Did she not cause--Ah, baron," said Murphy, leaving
the sentence unfinished, "this woman is our evil genius. God grant she
may not reappear amongst us laden with fresh misfortunes!"
"But still, under present circumstances, any views Countess Sarah may
entertain must be absurd in the greatest degree; the death of the
unfortunate child you just now alluded to has broken the last tie which
might have attached my lord to this dangerous woman. She must be mad,
as well as foolish, to persist in so hopeless a pursuit."
"If she be mad, there is a dangerous 'method in her madness;' her
brother, you are aware, partakes of her ambitious schemes and obstinate
opinions of ultimate success. Although this worthy pair have as much
reason for utter despair as they had eighteen years since of entire
success--"
"Eighteen years! What an accumulation of evil has been wrought during
that period by the criminal compliance of that rascally Polidori!"
"By the way, talking of that miserable wretch, I have traced that he was
here about a year or two ago, suffering, no doubt, from the most perfect
destitution, or else subsisting by disgraceful and dishonourable
practices."
"What a pity that a man so largely endowed with penetration, talent,
deep learning, and natural intelligence, should sink so low!"
"The innate perversity of his character marred all these high qualities.
It is to be hoped he and the countess will not meet; the junction of two
such evil spirits is indeed to be feared, for what frightful
consequences might there not result from it! Now, touching the facts you
have been collecting, have you them about you?"
"Here," said the baron, drawing a paper from his pocket, "are the
various particulars I have been enabled to collect touching the birth of
a young girl known as La Goualeuse, and also of the now residence of an
individual called François Germain, son of the Schoolmaster."
"Be kind enough to read me the result of your inquiries, my dear De
Graün. I am well aware what are his royal highness's intentions in the
matter; I shall be able to judge then whether the information you
possess will be sufficient to enable him to carry them into effect. You
have every reason to be satisfied with the agent you employ, I suppose?"
"Oh, he is a rare fellow! so precise, methodical, zealous, and
intelligent! I am, indeed, sometimes obliged to moderate his energy; for
I am well aware there are certain points, the clearing up of which his
highness reserves for himself."
"And, of course, your agent is far from suspecting the deep interest his
royal highness has in the matter?"
"Entirely so. My diplomatic position affords an excellent pretext for
the inquiries I have undertaken. M. Badinot (for such is the name of the
person I am speaking of) is a sharp, shrewd individual, having
connections, either recognised or concealed, in every grade of society.
He was formerly a lawyer, but compelled to quit his profession from some
very serious breach of trust; he has, however, retained very accurate
recollections touching the fortunes and situations of his old clients;
he knows many a secret, which he boasts, with considerable effrontery,
of having turned to a good account. By turns, rich and poor,--now
successful, and then a ruined man,--he only ceased his speculations when
none could be found to take part in them with him; reduced to live from
day to day by expedients more or less illegal, he became a curious
specimen of the Figaro school,--so long as his interest was concerned he
would devote himself, soul and body, to his employer; and we are sure of
his fidelity, for the simple reason that he has nothing to gain, though
a great deal to lose, by deceiving us; and, besides, I make him careful
of our interests, even unknown to himself."
"The particulars he has hitherto furnished us with have been very
correct and satisfactory."
"Oh, he has a very straightforward manner of going to work! And I assure
you, my dear Murphy, that M. Badinot is the very original type of one of
those mysterious existences which are to be met with, and only
possible, in Paris. He would greatly amuse his royal highness, if it
were not necessary to avoid their being known to each other in this
business."
"You can augment the pay of M. Badinot if you deem it necessary."
"Why, really, five hundred francs a month, and his expenses, amounting
to nearly the same sum, appear to me quite sufficient; we shall see by
and by."
"And does he not seem ashamed of the part he plays?"
"On the contrary, he is not a little vain of his employment, and when he
brings me any particulars assumes a certain air of importance he would
fain pass off as due to his diplomatic functions; for the fellow either
thinks, or feigns to do so, that he is deeply engaged in state affairs,
and ventures to observe at times, in a sort of undertone, how very
marvellous it is that such close and intimate relationship should be
found to exist between every-day events and the destinies of kingdoms!
Yes, really, he had the impudence to remark to me the other day, 'What
complicated machinery is contained in the grand machine of state
affairs! Who would think now, M. le Baron, those little humble notes
collected by me will have their part to play in directing and regulating
the affairs of Europe!'"
"Yes, yes, rascals generally seek to veil their mean and base practices
beneath some high-sounding pretext. But the notes you are to give me, my
dear baron, have you them with you?"
"Here they are, drawn up precisely from the accounts furnished by M.
Badinot."
"Pray let me hear them; I am all attention."
M. de Graün then read as follows:
"_Note relative to Fleur-de-Marie._--About the beginning of the year
1827, a man named Pierre Tournemine, then under sentence in the galleys
at Rochefort for forgery, proposed to a woman named Gervais, but also
known as La Chouette, to take perpetual charge of a little girl, then
between five and six years of age, for a sum of one thousand francs paid
down.
"The bargain being concluded, the child was delivered over to the woman,
with whom she remained two years, when, unable longer to endure the
cruelty shown her, the little girl disappeared; nor did the Chouette
hear anything of her for several years, when she unexpectedly met with
her at a small public-house in the Cité, nearly seven weeks ago. The
infant, now grown into a young woman, then bore the appellation of La
Goualeuse.
"A few days previously to this meeting, the above mentioned Tournemine,
who had become acquainted with the Schoolmaster at the galleys of
Rochefort, had sent to Bras Rouge (the regular, though concealed
correspondent of every rogue and felon either in prison or out of it) a
lengthened detail of every particular relative to the child formerly
confided to the woman Gervais, otherwise the Chouette.
"From this account, and the declarations of the Chouette, it appeared
that one Madame Séraphin, housekeeper to a notary named Jacques Ferrand,
had in 1827 instructed Tournemine to find a person who, for the sum of
one thousand francs, would be willing to take the entire charge of a
child of from five to six years of age whom it was desired to get rid
of, as has before been mentioned.
"The Chouette accepted the proposition, and received both the child and
the stipulated sum of money.
"The aim of Tournemine, in addressing these particulars to Bras Rouge,
was to enable the latter to extort money from Madame Séraphin, whom
Tournemine considered but as the agent of a third party, under a threat
of revealing the whole affair unless well paid for silence.
"Bras Rouge entrusted the Chouette, long the established partner in all
the Schoolmaster's schemes of villainy; and this explains how so
important a document found its way to that monster's possession, and
also accounts for the expression used by the Chouette at her rencontre
with the Goualeuse in the cabaret of the White Rabbit, when, by way of
tormenting her victim, she said, 'We have found out all about your
parents, but you shall never know who or what they are.'
"The point to be decided was as to the veracity of the circumstances
detailed by Tournemine in his letter to the Chouette.
"It has been ascertained that Madame Séraphin and the notary, Jacques
Ferrand, are both living; the address of the latter is Rue du Sentier,
No. 41, where he passes for a person of pious and austere life; at
least, he is constant in his attendance at church,--his attention to his
professional duties, close and severe, though some accuse him of
following up the severity of the law with unnecessary rigour. In his
mode of living he observes a parsimony bordering on avarice. Madame
Séraphin still resides with him, as manager of his household; and M.
Jacques Ferrand, spite of his original poverty, has invested thirty-five
thousand francs in the funds, the greatest part of this sum having been
supplied to him through a M. Charles Robert, a superior officer of the
National Guard,--a young and handsome man, in high repute with a certain
class of society. 'Tis true that some ill-natured persons are found to
assert that, owing either to fortunate speculations or lucky hits upon
the Stock Exchange, undertaken in partnership with the above mentioned
Charles Robert, the worthy notary could now well afford to pay back the
original loan with high interest; but the rigidly austere and
self-denying life of this worthy man gives a flat denial to all such
gossiping reports, and, spite of the incredulity with which he is
occasionally listened to, he persists in styling himself a man
struggling for a maintenance. There can be no manner of doubt but that
Madame Séraphin, this worthy gentleman's housekeeper, could, if she
pleased, throw an entire light upon every circumstance connected with
La Goualeuse."
"Bravo, my dear baron!" exclaimed Murphy; "nothing can be better. These
declarations of Tournemine carry with them an appearance of truth, and
it seems more than probable that we may, through Jacques Ferrand, obtain
the right clue to discovering the parents of this unfortunate girl. Now
tell me, have you been equally successful in the information collected
touching the son of the Schoolmaster?"
"Perhaps, as regards him, I am not furnished with such minute
particulars; but, upon the whole, I think the result of our inquiries
very satisfactory."
"Upon my word, your M. Badinot is a downright treasure!"
"You see, Bras Rouge is the hinge upon which everything turns. M.
Badinot, who has several acquaintances in the police, pointed him out to
us as the go-between of several notorious felons, and knew the man
directly he was set to discover what had become of the ill-fated son of
Madame Georges Duresnel, the unfortunate wife of this atrocious
Schoolmaster."
"And it was in going to search for Bras Rouge, in his den in the Cité
(Rue aux Fêves, No. 13), that my lord fell in with the Chourineur and La
Goualeuse. His royal highness hoped, too, that the opportunity now
before him, of visiting these abodes of vice and wretchedness, might
afford him the means of rescuing some unfortunate being from the depths
of guilt and misery. His benevolent anticipations were gratified, but at
what risk it is painful even to remember."
"Whatever dangers attended the scheme, you, at least, my dear Murphy,
bravely bore your share in them."
"Was not I, for that very purpose, appointed charcoal-man in waiting
upon his royal highness?" replied the squire, smilingly.
"Say, rather, his intrepid body-guard, my worthy friend. But to touch
upon your courage and devotion is only to repeat what every one knows. I
will, therefore, spare your modesty, and continue my relation. Here are
the various particulars we have been able to glean concerning François
Germain, son of Madame Georges and the Schoolmaster, properly called
Duresnel:
"About eighteen months since, a young man, named François Germain,
arrived in Paris from Nantes, where he had been employed in the
banking-house of Noël and Co.
"It seems, both from the confession of the Schoolmaster as well as from
several letters found upon him, that the scoundrel to whom he had
entrusted his unfortunate offspring, for the purpose of perverting his
young mind, and rendering him one day a worthy assistant to his
unprincipled father in his nefarious schemes, proposed to the young man
to join in a plot for robbing his employers, as well as to forge upon
the firm to a considerable amount. This proposition was received by the
youth with well-merited indignation, but, unwilling to denounce the man
by whom he had been brought up, he first communicated anonymously to his
master the designs projected against the bank, and then privately
quitted Nantes, that he might avoid the rage and fury of those whose
sinful practices his soul sickened and shuddered to think of, far less
to bear the idea of participating in.
"These wretches, aware that they had betrayed themselves to the young
man, and dreading the use he might make of his information, immediately
upon finding he had quitted Nantes followed him to Paris, with the most
sinister intentions of silencing him for ever. After long and
persevering inquiries, they succeeded in discovering his address, but,
happily for the persecuted object of their search, he had a few days
previously encountered the villain who had first sought to corrupt his
principles, and, well divining the motive which had brought him to
Paris, lost no time in changing his abode; and so, for this time, the
Schoolmaster's hapless son escaped his pursuers. Still, however,
following up the scent, they succeeded in tracing the youth to his fresh
abode, 17 Rue du Temple. One evening, however, he narrowly escaped
falling into an ambush laid for him (the Schoolmaster concealed this
circumstance from my lord), but again Providence befriended him, and he
escaped, though too much alarmed to remain in his lodgings; he once more
changed his abode, since which time all traces of him have been lost.
And matters had reached thus far when the Schoolmaster received the just
punishment of his crimes; since which period, by order of my lord, fresh
inquiries have been instituted, of which the following is the result.
"François Germain lived for about three months at No. 17 Rue du Temple,
a house rendered worthy of observation by the habits and ingenious
practices of its inhabitants. Germain was a great favourite among them,
by reason of his kind and amiable disposition, as well as for the frank
gaiety of his temper. Although his means of livelihood appeared very
slender, yet he had rendered the most generous assistance to an indigent
family occupying the garrets of the house. In vain has been every
inquiry made in the Rue du Temple touching the present residence of
François Germain, or the profession he was supposed to follow; every one
in the house believed him to be employed in some counting-house, or
office, as he went out early in the morning and never returned till late
in the evening. The only person who really knows the present residence
of the young man is a female, lodging in the house No. 17 Rue du
Temple,--a young and pretty grisette, named Rigolette, between whom and
Germain a very close acquaintance appears to have existed. She occupies
the adjoining room to that which Germain tenanted, and which chamber, by
the by, is still vacant; and it was under pretext of inquiring about it
that these particulars were obtained."
"Rigolette!" exclaimed Murphy, after having been for several minutes
apparently in deep thought. "Yes, I am sure I know her."
"_You!_ Sir Walter Murphy," replied the baron, much amused. "You, most
worthy and respectable father of a family! _you_ know anything of pretty
grisettes! And so the name of Mlle. Rigolette is familiar to you, is it?
Fie, fie! Oh, positively I am ashamed of you!"
"'Pon my soul, my lord compelled me to have so many strange
acquaintances, that such a mere trifle as this should pass for nothing.
But wait a bit. Yes, now I recollect perfectly, that when my lord was
relating the history of La Goualeuse, I could not help laughing at the
very odd name of Rigolette, which, as far as I can call to mind, was the
name of a prison acquaintance of that poor Fleur-de-Marie."
"Well, then, just at this particular juncture Mlle. Rigolette may be of
the utmost service to us. Let me conclude my report:
"There might possibly be an advantage in engaging the vacant chamber
recently belonging to Germain, in the Rue du Temple. We have no
instructions to proceed further in our investigations, but, from some
words which escaped the porteress, there is every reason to believe that
not only would it be possible to find in this house certain indications
of where the Schoolmaster's son may be heard of, through the means of
Mlle. Rigolette, but the house itself would afford my lord an
opportunity of studying human nature amid wants, difficulties, and
misery, the very existence of which he is far from suspecting."
"Thus you see, my dear Murphy," said M. de Graün, finishing his report
and presenting it to his companion, "you see evidently that it is from
the notary, Jacques Ferrand, we must hope to obtain information
respecting the parentage of La Goualeuse, and that we must go to Mlle.
Rigolette to trace the dwelling of François Germain. It seems to me a
great point to have ascertained the direction in which to search."
"Undoubtedly, baron; you are quite right; and, besides, I am sure my
lord will find a fine field for observation in the house of which you
speak. But I have not yet done with you. Have you made any inquiries
respecting the Marquis d'Harville?"
"I have; and, so far as concerns money matters, his royal highness's
fears are wholly unfounded. M. Badinot affirms (and he is very likely to
be well informed on the subject) that the fortune of the marquis has
never been in a more prosperous condition, or better managed."
"Why, after having in vain exhausted every other conjecture as to the
secret grief which is preying upon M. d'Harville, my lord imagined that
it was just probable the marquis had some pecuniary difficulties; had it
proved so, he would have removed them with that delicate assumption of
mystery you know he so frequently employs to veil his munificence. But,
since even this conjecture has failed, he must abandon all hope of
guessing the enigma; and this he will do the more reluctantly, as his
great desire to discover it arose out of his ardent friendship for M.
d'Harville."
"A friendship which is founded on a grateful recollection of the
important services rendered by the marquis's father to his own parent.
Are you aware, my dear Murphy, that at the remodelling of the States in
1815, at the Germanic confederation, the father of his royal highness
had a chance of being excluded, from his well-known attachment to
Napoleon? Thanks to the friendship with which the Emperor Alexander
honoured him, the deceased Marquis d'Harville was enabled to render most
effectual service to the father of our patron. The emperor, whose warm
regard for the late marquis had taken its date from the period of that
nobleman's emigration to Russia, exerted his powerful influence in
congress so successfully, that at the grand meeting to decide the
destinies of the princes of Germany, the father of our noble employer
was reinstated in all his pristine rights. As for the friendship now
subsisting between the present marquis and his royal highness, I believe
it commenced when, as mere boys, they met together on a visit paid by
the then reigning grand duke to the late Marquis d'Harville."
"So I have heard; and they appear to have retained a most lively
recollection of this happy period of their youth. Nor is this all I have
to say on the subject of the interest our noble master takes in every
matter concerning the house of D'Harville. So profound is his gratitude
for the services rendered to his father, that all bearing the honoured
name of D'Harville, or belonging to the family, possess a powerful claim
on the kindness of the prince. Thus, not alone to her virtues or her
misfortunes does poor Madame Georges owe the increasing and unwearied
goodness of my lord."
"Madame Georges!" exclaimed the astounded baron. "What, the wife of
Duresnel, the felon known as the Schoolmaster?"
"And the mother of François Germain, the youth we are seeking for, and
whom, I trust, we shall find."
"Is the relation of M. d'Harville?"
"She was his mother's cousin, and her most intimate friend; the old
marquis entertained the most perfect friendship and esteem for Madame
Georges."
"But how, for heaven's sake, my dear Murphy, did it ever come about that
the D'Harville family ever permitted a descendant of theirs to marry
such a monster as this Duresnel?"
"Why, thus it was. The father of this unfortunate woman was a M. de
Lagny, who, previous to the Revolution, possessed considerable property
in Languedoc, and who, having fortunately escaped the proscription so
fatal to many, availed himself of the first tranquillity which succeeded
these days of discord and anarchy to establish his only daughter in
marriage. Among the various candidates for the hand of the young heiress
was this Duresnel, the representative of a wealthy and respectable
family, possessing powerful parliamentary influence, and concealing the
depravity of his disposition beneath the most specious exterior. To this
man was Mlle. de Lagny united, by desire of her father; but a very short
time sufficed to strip the mask from his vicious character, and to
display his natural propensities. A gambler, a spendthrift, and
profligate, addicted to the lowest vices that can disgrace a human
being, he quickly dissipated, not only his own fortune, but that of his
wife also. Even the estate to which Madame Georges Duresnel had retired
was involved in the general ruin occasioned by her worthless husband's
passion for play, and his dissolute mode of life; and the unfortunate
woman would have been left without a shelter for herself or infant son
but for the kind affection of her relation, the Marquise d'Harville,
whom she loved with the tenderness of a sister. With this valued friend
Madame Duresnel found a welcome home, while her wretched husband,
finding himself utterly ruined, plunged into the blackest crimes, and
stopped at no means, however guilty and desperate, to supply his
pleasures. He became the associate of thieves, murderers, pickpockets,
and forgers, and ere long, falling into the hands of the law, was
sentenced to the galleys for the term of his natural life. Yet, while
suffering the just punishment of his crimes, his base mind devised the
double atrocity of tearing the child from its miserable mother, for the
sake of breaking down every good principle it might have imbibed, and of
training it up in vicious readiness to join his future schemes of
villainy. You know the rest. After the condemnation of her husband,
Madame Georges, without giving any reason for so doing, quitted the
Marquise d'Harville, and went to hide her shame and her sorrows in
Paris, where she soon fell into the utmost distress. It would occupy
too much time to tell you by what train of events my lord became aware
of the misfortunes of this excellent woman, as well as the ties which
connect her with the D'Harville family; it is sufficient that he came
most opportunely and generously to her assistance, induced her to quit
Paris and establish herself at the farm at Bouqueval, where she now is,
with the Goualeuse. In this peaceful retreat she has found tranquillity,
if not happiness; and the overlooking and management of the farm may
serve to recreate her thoughts, and prevent them from dwelling too
deeply on her past sorrows. As much to spare the almost morbid
sensibility of Madame Georges, as because he dislikes to blazon forth
his good deeds, my lord has not even acquainted M. d'Harville with the
fact of his having relieved his kinswoman from such severe distress."
"I comprehend now the twofold interest which my lord has in desiring to
discover the traces of the son of this poor woman."
"You may also judge by that, my dear baron, of the affection which his
royal highness bears to the whole family, and how deep is his vexation
at seeing the young marquis so sad, with so many reasons to be happy."
"What can there be wanting to M. d'Harville? He unites all,--birth,
fortune, wit, youth; his wife is charming, and as prudent as she is
lovely."
"True, and his royal highness only had recourse to the inquiries we have
been talking over after having in vain endeavoured to penetrate the
cause of M. d'Harville's deep melancholy; he showed himself deeply
affected by the kind attentions of monseigneur, but still has been
entirely reserved on the subject of his low spirits. It may be some
_peine de coeur_."
"Yet it is said that he is excessively fond of his wife, and she does
not give him the least cause for jealousy. I often meet her in society,
and, although she is constantly surrounded by admirers (as every young
and lovely woman is), still her reputation is unsullied."
"The marquis is always speaking of her in the highest terms; he has had,
however, one little discussion with her on the subject of the Countess
Sarah Macgregor."
"Has she, then, seen her?"
"By a most unlucky chance, the father of the Marquis d'Harville knew
Sarah Seyton of Halsburg, and her brother Tom, seventeen or eighteen
years ago, during their residence in Paris, and when they were much
noticed by the lady of the English ambassador. Learning that the brother
and sister were going into Germany, the old marquis gave them letters of
introduction to the father of our noble lord, with whom he kept up a
constant correspondence. Alas! my dear De Graün, perhaps but for these
introductions many misfortunes would have been avoided, for then
monseigneur would not have known this woman. When the Countess Sarah
returned hither, knowing the friendship of his royal highness for the
marquis, she presented herself at the Hotel d'Harville, in the hope of
meeting monseigneur; for she shows as much pertinacity in pursuing him
as he evinces resolution to avoid her."
"Only imagine her disguising herself in male attire, and following him
into the Cité! No woman but she would have dreamt of such a thing."
"She, perhaps, hoped by such a step to touch his royal highness and
compel him to an interview, which he has always refused and avoided. To
return to Madame d'Harville: her husband, to whom monseigneur has spoken
of Sarah as she deserved, has begged his wife to see her as seldom as
possible; but the young marquise, seduced by the hypocritical flatteries
of the countess, has gone somewhat counter to the marquis's request.
Some trifling differences have arisen, but not of sufficient importance
to cause or explain the extreme dejection of the marquis."
"Oh, the women! the women! My dear Murphy, I am very sorry that Madame
d'Harville should have formed any acquaintance with this Sarah. So young
and charming a woman must suffer by the contact with such an infernal--"
"Talking of infernal creatures," said Murphy, "here is a communication
relative to Cecily, the unworthy spouse of the excellent David."
"Between ourselves, my dear Murphy, this audacious _métisse_[9] well
deserves the terrible punishment that her husband, our dear black
doctor, has inflicted on the Schoolmaster by monseigneur's order. She
has also shed blood, and her unblushing infamy is astounding."
[9] The Creole issue of a white and quadroon slave. The
_métisses_ only differ from the whites by some peculiarities
hardly perceptible.
"Yet she is so very handsome,--so seductive! A perverted mind within an
attractive outside always inspires me with twofold disgust."
"In this sense Cecily is doubly hateful. But I hope that this despatch
annuls the last orders issued by monseigneur with regard to this
wretched creature."
"On the contrary, baron."
"My lord, then, desires that her escape from the fortress in which she
had been shut up for life may be effected?"
"Yes."
"And that her pretended ravisher should bring her to France,--to Paris?"
"Yes; and, besides, this despatch orders the arrangement to be carried
out as soon as possible, and that Cecily be made to travel hither so
speedily that she may arrive here in a fortnight."
"I am lost in astonishment! Monseigneur has always evinced such a horror
of her!"
"And that horror he still experiences; if possible, stronger than ever."
"And yet he causes her to be sent to him! To be sure, it will always be
easy to apprehend Cecily again, if she does not carry out what he
requires of her. Orders are given to the son of the gaoler of the
fortress of Gerolstein to carry her off, as if he were enamoured of her,
and every facility will be given to him for effecting this purpose.
Overjoyed at this opportunity of escaping, the _métisse_ will follow her
supposed ravisher, and reach Paris; then she will always have her
sentence of condemnation hanging over her, always be but an escaped
prisoner, and I shall be always ready, when it shall please his royal
highness to desire, again to lay hands upon and incarcerate her."
"I should tell you, my dear baron, that when David learned from
monseigneur of the proposed arrival of Cecily, he was absolutely
petrified, and exclaimed, 'I hope that your royal highness will not
compel me to see the monster?' 'Make yourself easy,' replied
monseigneur; 'you shall not see her, but I may require her services for
a particular purpose.' David felt relieved of an enormous weight off his
mind. Nevertheless, I am sure that some very painful reminiscences were
awakened in his mind."
"Poor negro! he loves her still. They say, too, that she is yet so
lovely!"
"Charming!--too charming! It requires the pitiless eye of a creole to
detect the mixed blood in the all but imperceptible shade which lightly
tinges her rosy finger-nails. Our fresh and hale beauties of the North
have not a more transparent complexion, nor a skin of more dazzling
whiteness."
"I was in France when monseigneur returned from America, accompanied by
David and Cecily, and I know that that excellent man was from that time
attached to his royal highness by ties of the strongest gratitude; but I
never learned how he became attached to the service of our master, and
how he had married Cecily, whom I saw, for the first time, about a year
after his marriage; and God knows the scandal that followed!"
"I can tell you every particular that you may wish to learn, my dear
baron; I accompanied monseigneur in his voyage to America, when he
rescued David and the _métisse_ from the most awful fate."
"You are always most kind, my dear Murphy, and I am all attention," said
the baron.