Graham had left a note with Rochebriant's concierge requesting an
interview on the Marquis's return to Paris, and on the evening after the
day just commemorated he received a line, saying that Alain had come
back, and would be at home at nine o'clock. Graham found himself in the
Breton's apartment punctually at the hour indicated.
Alain was in high spirits: he burst at once into enthusiastic
exclamations on the virtual announcement of war.
"Congratulate me, mon cher!" he cried--"the news was a joyous surprise
to me. Only so recently as yesterday morning I was under the gloomy
apprehension that the Imperial Cabinet would continue to back Ollivier's
craven declaration 'that France had not been affronted!' The Duchesse de
Tarascon, at whose campagne I was a guest, is (as you doubtless know)
very much in the confidence of the Tuileries. On the first signs of war,
I wrote to her, saying that whatever the objections of my pride to enter
the army as a private in time of peace, such objections ceased on the
moment when all distinctions of France must vanish in the eyes of sons
eager to defend her banners. The Duchesse in reply begged me to come to
her _campagne_ and talk over the matter. I went; she then said that if
war should break out it was the intention to organise the _Mobiles_ and
officer them with men of birth and education, irrespective of previous
military service, and in that case I might count on my epaulets. But
only two nights ago she received a letter--I know not of course from
whom--evidently from some high authority--that induced her to think the
moderation of the Council would avert the war, and leave the swords of
the Mobiles in their sheaths. I suspect the decision of yesterday must
have been a very sudden one. _Ce cher Gramont_! See what it is to have a
well-born man in a sovereign's councils."
"If war must come, I at least wish all renown to yourself. But--"
"Oh! spare me your 'buts'; the English are always too full of them where
her own interests do not appeal to her. She had no 'buts' for war in
India or a march into Abyssinia."
Alain spoke petulantly; at that moment the French were very much
irritated by the monitory tone of the English journals. Graham prudently
avoided the chance of rousing the wrath of a young hero yearning for his
epaulets.
"I am English enough," said he, with good-humoured courtesy, "to care for
English interests; and England has no interest abroad dearer to her than
the welfare and dignity of France. And now let me tell you why I
presumed on an acquaintance less intimate than I could desire, to solicit
this interview on a matter which concerns myself, and in which you could
perhaps render me a considerable service."
"If I can, count it rendered; move to this sofa--join me in a cigar, and
let us talk at ease _comme de vieux amis_, whose fathers or brothers
might have fought side by side in the Crimea." Graham removed to the
sofa beside Rochebriant, and after one or two whiffs laid aside the cigar
and began:
"Among the correspondence which Monsieur your father has left, are there
any letters of no distant date signed Marigny--Madame Marigny? Pardon
me, I should state my motive in putting this question. I am intrusted
with a charge, the fulfilment of which may prove to the benefit of this
lady or her child; such fulfilment is a task imposed upon my honour. But
all the researches to discover this lady which I have instituted stop at
a certain date, with this information,--viz., that she corresponded
occasionally with the late Marquis de Rochebriant; that he habitually
preserved the letters of his correspondents; and that these letters were
severally transmitted to you at his decease."
Alain's face had taken a very grave expression while Graham spoke, and he
now replied with a mixture of haughtiness and embarrassment:
"The boxes containing the letters my father received and preserved were
sent to me as you say--the larger portion of them were from ladies--
sorted and labelled, so that in glancing at any letter in each packet I
could judge of the general tenor of these in the same packet without the
necessity of reading them. All packets of that kind, Monsieur Vane, I
burned. I do not remember any letters signed 'Marigny!"
"I perfectly understand, my dear Marquis, that you would destroy all
letters which your father himself would have destroyed if his last
illness had been sufficiently prolonged. But I do not think the letters
I mean would have come under that classification; probably they were
short, and on matters of business relating to some third person--some
person, for instance, of the name of Louise, or of Duval!"
"Stop! let me think. I have a vague remembrance of one or two letters
which rather perplexed me, they were labelled, 'Louise D--. Mem.: to
make further inquiries as to the fate of her uncle.'"
"Marquis, these are the letters I seek. Thank heaven, you have not
destroyed them?"
"No; there was no reason why I should destroy, though I really cannot
state precisely any reason why I kept them. I have a very vague
recollection of their existence."
"I entreat you to allow me at least a glance at the handwriting, and
compare it with that of a letter I have about me; and if the several
handwritings correspond, I would ask you to let me have the address,
which, according to your father's memorandum, will be found in the
letters you have preserved."
"To compliance with such a request I not only cannot demur, but perhaps
it may free me from some responsibility which I might have thought the
letters devolved upon my executorship. I am sure they did not concern
the honour of any woman of any family, for in that case I must have
burned them."
"Ah, Marquis, shake hands there! In such concord between man and man,
there is more entente cordiale between England and France than there was
at Sebastopol. Now let me compare the handwritings."
"The box that contained the letters is not here--I left it at
Rochebriant; I will telegraph to my aunt to send it; the day after
to-morrow it will no doubt arrive. Breakfast with me that day--say at
one o'clock, and after breakfast the Box!"
"How can I thank you?"
"Thank me! but you said your honour was concerned in your request--
requests affecting honour between men _comma il faut_ is a ceremony of
course, like a bow between them. One bows, the other returns the bow--no
thanks on either side. Now that we have done with that matter, let me
say that I thought your wish for our interview originated in a very
different cause."
"What could that be?"
"Nay, do you not recollect that last talk between us, when with such
loyalty you spoke to me about Mademoiselle Cicogna, and supposing that
there might be rivalship between us, retracted all that you might have
before said to warn me against fostering the sentiment with which she had
inspired me; even at the first slight glance of a face which cannot be
lightly forgotten by those who have once seen it."
"I recollect perfectly every word of that talk, Marquis," answered
Graham, calmly, but with his hand concealed within his vest and pressed
tightly to his heart. The warning of Mrs. Morley flashed upon him.
"Was this the man to seize the prize he had put aside--this man, younger
than himself--handsomer than himself--higher in rank?"
"I recollect that talk, Marquis! Well, what then?"
"In my self-conceit I supposed that you might have heard how much I
admired Mademoiselle Cicogna--how, having not long since met her at the
house of Duplessis (who by the way writes me word that I shall meet you
_chez lui_ tomorrow), I have since sought her society wherever there was
a chance to find it. You may have heard, at our club, or elsewhere, how
I adore her genius--how, I say, that nothing so _Breton_--that is, so
pure and so lofty--has appeared and won readers since the days of
Chateaubriand,--and--you, knowing that _les absents ont toujours tort_,
come to me and ask Monsieur de Rochebriant, Are we rivals? I expected
a challenge--you relieve my mind--you abandon the field to me?"
At the first I warned the reader how improved from his old _mauvaise
honte_ a year or so of Paris life would make our beau Marquis. How a
year or two of London life with its horsey slang and its fast girls of
the period would have vulgarised an English Rochebriant! Graham gnawed
his lips and replied quietly, "I do not challenge! Am I to congratulate
you?"
"No, that brilliant victory is not for me. I thought that was made clear
in the conversation I have referred to. But if you have done me the
honour to be jealous I am exceedingly flattered. Speaking, seriously, if
I admired Mademoiselle Cicogna when you and I last met, the admiration is
increased by the respect with which I regard a character so simply noble.
How many women older than she would have been spoiled by the adulation
that has followed her literary success!--how few women so young, placed
in a position so critical, having the courage to lead a life so
independent, would have maintained the dignity of their character free
from a single indiscretion! I speak not from my own knowledge, but from
the report of all, who would be pleased enough to censure if they could
find a cause. Good society is the paradise of _mauvaises langues_."
Graham caught Alain's hand and pressed it, but made no answer.
The young Marquis continued:
"You will pardon me for speaking thus freely in the way that I would wish
any friend to speak of the demoiselle who might become my wife. I owe
you much, not only for the loyalty with which you address me in reference
to this young lady, but for words affecting my own position in France,
which sank deep into my mind--saved me from deeming myself a _proscrit_
in my own land--filled me with a manly ambition, not stifled amidst the
thick of many effeminate follies--and, in fact, led me to the career
which is about to open before me, and in which my ancestors have left me
no undistinguished examples. Let us speak, then, _a coeur ouvert_, as
one friend to another. Has there been any misunderstanding between you
and Mademoiselle Cicogna which has delayed your return to Paris? If so,
is it over now?"
"There has been no such misunderstanding."
"Do you doubt whether the sentiments you expressed in regard to her when
we met last year, are returned?"
"I have no right to conjecture her sentiments. You mistake altogether."
"I do not believe that I am dunce enough to mistake your feelings towards
Mademoiselle--they may be read in your face at this moment. Of course I
do not presume to hazard a conjecture as to those of Mademoiselle towards
yourself. But when I met her not long since at the house of Duplessis,
with whose daughter she is intimate, I chanced to speak to her of you;
and if I may judge, by looks and manner, I chose no displeasing theme.
You turn away--I offend you?"
"Offend!--no, indeed; but on this subject I am not prepared to converse.
I came to Paris on matters of business much complicated and which ought
to absorb my attention. I cannot longer trespass on your evening. The
day after to-morrow, then, I will be with you at one o'clock."
"Yes, I hope then to have the letters you wish to consult; and,
meanwhile, we meet to-morrow at the Hotel Duplessis."