A CURIOUS PROFESSION
It so happened that about midnight Germain crossed the Seine by the
Petit-Pont, a bridge not so public as the Pont-Neuf, and, regardless of
the robberies always occurring, plunged among the crooked streets of the
Latin Quarter. He had not walked far before a carriage, driving swiftly
away from a small lane or passage, attracted his notice. At the bottom
of the passage was a door having a lamp over it; upon the lamp some
letters and a device. He stopped and read--
"MTRE. GILLES,
GENEALOGIST."
The street in which he stood was a small cross street. He walked on and
left it, but the lamp, the inscription and the carriage haunted him like
one of those things which so often takes part in our reasoning before we
see its drift. All at once it became clear, he clutched at the hope,
retraced his steps to the small street, arrived at the passage, and went
up it to the door. The genealogist himself, a little red-faced man with
an agreeable air, a brown periwig, and a smart suit of black Lyons'
silk, was taking in his sign and preparing to put out the light in it.
"An instant, Monsieur Gilles," said Lecour, stopping him.
"With pleasure, sir," Gilles answered without surprise, and returning
the lamp, opened the door, showing a narrow stair.
Germain mounted and passed into a chamber, whose furniture was of
considerable elegance, and the gloom of which was relieved by a single
wax candle on a brass-footed table.
On the table were a mass of parchments which the genealogist had been
examining and tall cupboards, open drawers, and bookcases full of his
library stood around. A host of old portraits of all kinds and sizes
gave rich colour to the walls.
The stately manner of Germain caught his glance at once, and bowing
deferentially he inquired the name.
"It does not matter," said Germain.
"A Normandy squire," thought the genealogist, from something in the
accent. He invited his visitor to seat himself in the chair facing his
table, and took his own seat at the opposite side.
"I am newly arrived at Court," said Germain. "What is the best way to
become acquainted with the history of the great families?"
"Not in the least likely you come to me for that," thought the expert.
"It is simple," said he aloud. "Read my _Repertory of Genealogy_, which
is to be had for fifty livres of the bookseller Giraud, No. 79, Palais
Royal, and which is the infallible standard upon the subject, and is
read by the whole of the Court, the _noblesse_, the magistrature, and in
general the French nation."
"Very well, I shall obtain it," answered Germain; "but can you now
answer questions about some of the less conspicuous lines?"
"I have only, sir, to be told a name, and I guarantee for twenty livres
to relate in written abstract the history of every branch of it which
was ever noble. I also, for a fee, according to the difficulties, make a
specialty of resuscitating genealogies which have been dimmed by lapse
of time or by those misfortunes which often make it seem to the
inexperienced that such blood is ignoble--an impression which is without
question in itself the most deplorable misfortune of all in such cases.
I have discovered barons in chair-menders, and viscounts in
cheese-hawkers," and he looked at Germain cheerfully.
"Such things do not concern me," was the haughty reply. "I am interested
in a family named Lecour. I desire an account of the titles now or
heretofore possessed by persons of that name."
The professional consulted a register "L" on a shelf behind.
"The name is a common one, sir, yet the list is not long. Indeed so
common is the name, and so short the list of its stocks of distinction
that there have been but two. One is the well-known family of Amiens,
the other is now obscure."
"What branch is the latter?"
"The LeCours de Lincy, formerly a conspicuous race in the annals of
Poitou and very ancient. Their device: a golden lion rampant on an azure
shield."
"A golden lion rampant on an azure shield," repeated Germain musing.
"By chance the last of the de Lincys is known to me, and sleeps not far
from where we are sitting--a noble so old and poor that he never enjoys
firewood, and apparently lives solely on the sight of his precious
proofs of _noblesse_; a food which, excuse me, Monsieur, is, in my
opinion, very innutritious."
A ray of hope crossed Germain's mind.
"Would he sell these proofs?"
The genealogist at once understood Germain's position, but he would take
no mean advantage; he was honourable within his calling. He merely
answered--
"No, sir."
"Could you not obtain copies?"
"For fifteen louis."
"Here they are," replied Lecour, opening his purse and handing over the
gold.
The genealogist's ruddy face twinkled.
"Now," said Germain, "this gentleman of whom you spoke is my relative. I
desire to see him."
"To some men," replied the other, "I would say Monsieur de Lincy is part
of my professional plant, and I cannot give you the information. To you,
sir, it shall be different, for I take you for a man of honour, and all
I desire is your word that nothing will be done by you without payment
of such fees as I may ask."
"Agreed," returned Germain, repressing his expectancy.
"Then you can be conducted to him in the morning, and it must be by
myself, for otherwise he would not trust you. Will you accept a lodging
with me, a plain room, but no worse than at an inn."
Lecour only too gladly accepted the refuge; but before retiring he
said--
"My name is Lecour."
"I knew it," returned the genealogist. "Have no fear of my confidence. I
am not like the vipers who throng my profession. To proceed a step
further, I venture boldly the theory, sir, that you are the Monsieur
Lecour de Répentigny about whose title there has just been some little
question."
Germain's heart jumped, and he sat for a moment speechless.
"It is true," he said at last.
"You wish me to advise you?"
Lecour nodded.
"With my advice, then, the thing will be simple. First quit the name of
Répentigny, which will always create jealousies. I leave to yourself the
excuses you will make for having borne it--that you bought the seigniory
of that name or that you possess another of the same appellation, or
that it was very anciently a possession of your family. The armorials
show there were LeCours de Tilly; there were also LeGardeurs de Tilly,
related to the LeGardeurs de Répentigny. You might thus claim possible
relationship. But, as I have said, I leave to yourself the choice of
excuses on that point. Secondly, we must carry out your design of
allying yourself with old de Lincy, who is in such horrible need of a
friend, that it will be a benefit to you both; and thirdly, you must see
to the correction of all marriage contracts, baptismal and death
certificates, and other registers by the insertion of the noble
appellation which will then belong to your family. This is your case in
brief."
Lecour looked at him, heaving a deep breath of relief, and rising,
allowed himself to be shown to the sleeping chamber.
When about to breakfast the next morning, on the rolls and wine sent up
by the genealogist, he found a tiny package on his plate, opening which
he saw a handsome old watch-seal fitted with a newly-cut stone in
intaglio, showing a lion rampant on a shield.
The genealogist had had a jeweller cut on an old seal during the night
the arms of the de Lincys.
Speculating much, but saying little in reply to Gille's garrulity, he
set off with him to the old noble's attic. A voice, broken by asthma,
feebly called upon them to enter, and Germain's eyes fell upon, lying
on a tattered mattress by the window, the last wreck of a gentleman,
with whom he instantly felt the greatest sympathy. The rotten wood floor
and partitions of the room were bare of furniture except a worn box and
half a dozen dingy oil portraits of ancestors. The occupant's features
were pinched with sadness and starvation. His hair was white. He raised
himself with dignity to a sitting position, however, and received them
with a grave courtesy.
"Pardon us, Monsieur de Lincy!" the genealogist exclaimed; "I have made
a discovery which will be so interesting to you that I have hastened to
break it without waiting for the sun to rise higher."
"The hour is nothing," de Lincy replied; "I have always received
visitors in bed."
"But not always relatives."
A lofty look passed over the other's face.
"I am the only de Lincy."
"Will Monsieur lend me his seal?" said Maître Gilles to Lecour. Then,
handing it to the de Lincy, he exclaimed, "Here is a discovery of mine!"
"What, are these my arms?" cried the old man.
"Yes, sir, preserved for generations in a distant colony by a branch
that does you honour. Permit me, sir, to introduce you to your cousin,
Monsieur LeCour de Lincy, of Canada, officer of the Bodyguard, and who
longs to make the acquaintance of the head of his family."
De Lincy bowed ceremoniously, and, glancing again at the ring, examined
it with avidity.
"The arms are those of my ancestors; and you say, sir, that this is an
heirloom of your family in Canada."
Lecour nodded.
"Your name is really----"
"LeCour."
"Discovered to be your cousin by Maître Gilles, the expert in genealogy,
remember, Chevalier."
"You are very good, I admit," the old noble replied. "Yes, yes," he
mused aloud on recovering, permitting his eyes to rest on Germain's
face, "he resembles the portrait of my grandfather--that portrait on the
right. There is a tradition that a lost branch was flourishing somewhere
in distant countries. Maître Gilles, under my pillow you will find the
key of my box--my muniment chest. Please to open it and hand me the
genealogical tree which is on the top of the parchments. Very good; here
then is the branch of which I speak, the progeny of Hippolyte,
lieutenant in the marine in 1683: it must be this line. The saints be
praised that the grandeur of our fortunes still has so worthy a
representative, and that I set my eyes once more upon a LeCour de Lincy.
To you these precious portraits of our forefathers and the priceless
titles to our nobility and to the ruins of our château shall descend.
They shall not be lost, despised and scattered. _O mon Dieu!_ I thank
thee."
With tears he reached his arms to Germain and embraced him, and so
strange is human nature that Germain, enclosed in that pathetic embrace,
began to believe himself really a scion of the lost branch of the de
Lincys, descendants of Hippolyte.
Gilles departed, Germain remained. He insisted on aiding the Chevalier
to dress, and on supporting his trembling footsteps down the stairway
and to the nearest _café_, where they fittingly celebrated the occasion.
The Chevalier eagerly brought Germain back to look over the chest of
documents, and gave him permission with joy to obtain authenticated
copies, and on parting, towards the end of the day, actually pressed
upon him one of those portraits, precious to him as his life-blood.