THE DEPARTURE
My idea was to beg Lord Falmouth to buy for me, in his own name, the
oil-painting and the two water-colours by Frank; and afterwards to
order, still in his name, a set of drawings on subjects from the works
of Schiller, Shakespeare, Goethe, and Walter Scott.
My object was to assure the future for a certain length of time to
Hélène and Frank by this easy and pleasing work, which would not
interfere in any way with that inspiration necessary to more serious
labours, and in doing this I hoped to liberate this noble young man from
those sad and annoying preoccupations which often react with fatal
effect on even the greatest geniuses.
I addressed myself to Lord Falmouth in preference to any other man,
because, in spite of his reputation as a man who was perfectly blasé,
and his disdainful and profound scepticism of all and everything, he was
the only man among my acquaintances that I dared to take so much into my
confidence. I had noticed in him--doubtless to give credit to that
common saying, that extremes meet--a great inclination, not to feel, but
at least to contemplate, all emotions that were young, innocent, and
happy.
It was anything but easy to get to see him before four o'clock in the
afternoon, the hour at which he got up; however, he received me.
"Where do you come from?" said he; "for the last eight days no one has
caught a glimpse of you anywhere. I know very well that Madame de
Pënâfiel has left town, but you are not the kind of man to be
inconsolable; besides, a departure is always flattering--when one stays
behind."
"I want to speak to you very seriously," said I, fearing that if our
conversation took on such a bantering tone, he would interpret the
service I was about to ask of him in a false manner.
"What is it, then?" said he.
"In two words, then, it is this: A young foreign painter of great
talent, but who is absolutely unknown here, has married my first cousin,
who was like a sister to me, who grew up at our home, whom I wish you to
believe that I respect as much as I love. An unfortunate lawsuit against
my aunt, a suit which I may be said to have instigated and gained, much
to my regret, by the abuse of a procuration, which my lawyers made use
of without my knowledge, has caused a great deal of coolness between my
cousin and myself, at least on her part; for, not knowing the whole
truth, she believes my conduct to have been frightfully grasping. The
amount I gained by this suit is very little for me, but it would be a
great help to my cousin and her husband, who I admit to you are poor. On
the other hand, as we never see each other any more, and as I know what
a proud, sensitive nature the young woman has, it is absolutely
impossible for me to restore to her what I have gained in spite of my
wishes. I have then thought of a means which will conciliate everything,
if you will only be so extremely obliging as to come to my aid. This
young painter has exposed an oil-painting and two water-colours which
show a great and incontestable talent; but his name is unknown. I wish,
then, that you should buy the pictures as though for yourself, and
furthermore, that you command under your own name a set of drawings from
different works of Goethe, Schiller, Shakespeare, and Scott, for the sum
of fifty thousand francs. You see it is an indirect manner, not of
giving back the money that cursed lawsuit gained for me (for that is
impossible), but at least of being of some use to my cousin and her
husband, whom fortunate circumstances and certainty of work will surely
place in the position he merits."
In keeping with his imperturbable nature, Lord Falmouth never manifested
the least surprise, neither did he make the slightest objection, but, in
the most amiable way, promised to do what I had requested him, and we
agreed to go the next day to the gallery to see Frank's pictures.
More than this, he promised that he would immediately recommend the
artist to five or six of his friends, who were great connoisseurs, and
who would very soon be able to elevate Frank from his obscure position,
if he really possessed the talent that I gave him credit for. I went
then the next day to the Museum with Lord Falmouth. He had formerly been
very fond of pictures himself, but, being bored with everything, was
quite indifferent to them now. He was struck, however, with the
indisputable talent which was so suddenly revealed in Frank's works; he
admired above all the painting of Claire and Egmont, criticised it with
marvellous appreciation, and admitted that, though he had distrusted my
enthusiasm, he was obliged to recognise in it the work of a great
painter.
Lord Falmouth was to go to see Frank the next evening, having written
him a note that morning to find out if he could be received. Under the
pretext of taking Lord Falmouth the money I destined for these
purchases, I called on him, urged to do so by my curiosity to know
Frank's answer. It was very simple, but very dignified, and neither full
of that pretended modesty, that obsequious humility, which, too often,
ruin the finest minds.
"If you will come and take supper with me," said I to Lord Falmouth, as
I was leaving the salon, "after your visit to our great artist, I will
wait for you. But not later than six o'clock in the morning," I added,
laughingly.
"I will be at your house before midnight," he replied, "however
extraordinary that may seem to you. The fact is, that for the last five
or six days I have not been playing any more; I am in constant good
luck, and that is a bore. Play for its own sake seems to me decidedly
stupid. I have not the courage to play high enough to ruin myself, and,
considered simply as an amusement, the loss and gain are not worth the
trouble."
"And at what o'clock do you go to see Frank?"
"I am going at nine o'clock, for that is what he asks me to do in his
reply to my letter. By the way, you will perhaps think me peculiar or
ridiculous," added Lord Falmouth; "but I always notice the way a letter
is written, and even how it is folded, for I gain from these small
indications very sure knowledge as to the _savoir-vivre_ of the writer,
and on this score our young painter appears to be a perfect gentleman."
I left Lord Falmouth.
I shall not attempt to hide the fact that this last observation on his
part, apropos of these trifling circumstances, which he found so full of
meaning, and which I had also noticed in Frank's letter, awoke in my
breast, and in spite of all my good and generous intentions, a new and
cruel fit of envy.
Then, prompted by this new access of jealousy, I began for the first
time to insult my noble conduct towards Frank and Hélène; I mocked at
my delicacy with bitter irony. I said that I was a ridiculous fool to do
all this for people who most likely never spoke of me except with scorn;
then, by a miserable chain of thought, I arrived at a state of mind in
which I was again capable of bringing up accusations against Hélène.
If she had consoled herself so soon, it was because she had never really
loved me; in spite of my love, my regret, my remorse, she had been
merciless to me; her refusal of my hand was only a high-strung display
of her false pride. She was still prouder than she was egotistical and
mercenary, I said to myself. Fortunately, she will never know the source
of this help, and, with the exception of Lord Falmouth, whose discretion
I can count on, and from whom I have hidden the veritable pretext of my
conduct, no one shall ever be aware of my silly generosity. And after
all, I added, seeking to find by no matter what means a selfish motive
for my conduct, "I have got the painting and the drawings; and when
Frank will have become a celebrity, they will be very valuable, and I
shall have made a good speculation!"
It was thus, alas! that I found the means of withering and falsifying my
good action, through the odious fear I had of being the dupe of a high
and honourable sentiment.
In spite of these fancies which for awhile dimmed the only ray of
happiness whose blest influence had come to refresh me, I wished to see
Hélène once more, if it were possible, and also to be an invisible
witness of the manner that she and Frank would receive Lord Falmouth.
I took up my station there, on the boulevard, at nine o'clock, not
daring to approach the house until after the arrival of Lord Falmouth. I
did not wait long; very soon a carriage stopped, it was his. Again I
leaned my forehead against the window-blinds.
By a noticeable display of good breeding, which showed me that Hélène
was still the same, there had, evidently, been no preparations made in
her modest home, there was nothing to indicate an expected visit from a
Mæcenas. Everything was arranged with its usual taste and simplicity.
When Lord Falmouth entered, he bowed respectfully to Hélène, who
received him with a polite dignity which was full of charm. Frank, in
his manner, seemed to understand perfectly the exact point where the
pride of an artist should give place to the affability of a man of the
world. Then, no doubt at the request of Lord Falmouth, he showed him
some of his sketches, and I noticed that Lord Falmouth's face, which was
usually so expressionless, brightened up with something that looked
almost like enthusiasm, as he contemplated I know not what drawing;
while Hélène blushed with pride and pleasure on hearing these praises
which Frank was receiving with so much modesty and serious good
breeding.
After a half-hour's visit, Lord Falmouth took leave of Hélène, who,
without rising, returned his bow in the most affable manner. Frank rang
the bell, accompanied Lord Falmouth as far as the door, and bowed to
him. I hid myself when Lord Falmouth came out, and until he had entered
his carriage, then I returned to the window.
Frank and Hélène were no longer in the salon; they had both gone to
look on their child, and I saw them smiling, as they stood besides its
cradle, and gazed on it with loving eyes, as though they wished to
bestow on the angelic little creature the unexpected good fortune which
had come to them.
For one last time I looked towards the house with grief in my heart, and
then silently bidding farewell to Hélène, I hastened away.
On returning home I waited for Lord Falmouth impatiently, for I wished
to know the impression Hélène and Frank had made on him. He was soon
announced.
"Do you know," said he to me on entering, "that your cousin is a _très
grande dame?_ that it would be impossible to find more grace or more
distinction? that she converses most agreeably, and that I can easily
conceive your anger with your lawyers for causing you to gain a suit
that could bring distress to such a charming woman?
"And what about Frank?" I asked him.
"Our great painter? Before the year is out that man will have risen to
his proper level. I am sure of it; and his position will be a fine one.
I predict this more from his conversation than from his admirable
picture, though we talked but little, after all; but in some of the
sketches he showed me, and in some beautiful ideas that he developed
very simply and naturally, I beheld veritable ingots of the purest and
finest gold, which only awaited the stamp of the mint to become more
valuable and splendid still. And with all this, everything in their
simple home is in such good form and breathes such an air of native
elegance that it is quite touching to see these two beautiful young
people, so reserved, so noble, and so dignified in their poverty. I
thank you for the sweetest impression I have felt for these many years.
Your errand is done, the pictures are yours, our Frank is going to set
to work on the drawings; as to the price, he is to draw on my banker at
sight. I also ordered two pictures for myself, for he rekindled in me
the love of art, and I am going to send two or three eminent
connoisseurs to see him, who will know how to help him, so that you will
see him in six months earning all the money he wants, and then he will
lose the only thing that spoils him, which is the proud reserve of his
manner; for fortune expands great minds, whereas it shrivels up narrow
ones, until they are all that is sublimely ridiculous and insolent."
The praises bestowed On Frank, by a man who was as habitually cold and
reserved as Lord Falmouth, caused me intense suffering, because they
confirmed in an unmistakable way all the good qualities I had, in spite
of my malevolence, discovered in Hélène's husband. I thanked Lord
Falmouth for his kindness, but he appeared to perceive my unkind
thoughts, and said:
"You seem to be worried."
"I really am; and as you are one of the few men to whom one may tell the
truth, I am willing to admit it," said I.
"To tell you the truth, I like you better so disposed than if you were
very gay," he replied. "I don't know why, but I am bored more than usual
these last few days." Then after a long pause: "Does the life you are
leading here amuse you enormously?" said he.
"Great God, no!" I exclaimed.
"Speaking seriously?"
"Oh, very seriously."
At this moment supper was announced.
"Be so good as to have all we will be likely to need placed on the
side-tables, and send away your servants; we will talk more freely,"
said Lord Falmouth, in English, as we were going into the dining-room.
"Thanks to God," said he, "I never have such a good appetite as when I
am bored to death. It seems as though I had at such times to nourish the
beast that is within me."
"I am also very gourmand, but in fits and starts," I replied, "and then
I go to impossible lengths, and when I would like to find an inventive
and creative genius I only stumble on a cook. And you may laugh if you
please; but I need to have an excuse to really dine conscientiously, if
you will allow me to say so; for example, after a long hunt, when I can
stretch out in a great armchair. I then feel a real sensual enjoyment;
but to make a study of my dinner, to seriously reflect on what I am
going to eat, that is too limited a pleasure; for one soon falls into
repetition and then comes satiety."
"Well," said Lord Falmouth, "I had once a veritable Christopher
Columbus, in his way, who discovered for me unknown worlds, but
unfortunately he is dead, poor fellow! Not a suicide like your Vatel,
but in a real duel with the head butler of M. de Nesselrode; for my poor
Hubert deeply despised all that concerned the pantry; he would sometimes
busy himself there by way of pastime, for amusement, he would say. He
pretended that the _pudding glacé à la Nesselrode_ was the result of
one of these leisure hours, and that his rival was simply a plagiarist.
But alas! how sad is our fate here below! My poor Hubert was doubly the
victim, for the name of the great diplomat who christened the pudding is
the only name that it bears in the legend of good livers."
"What a singular thing it is," said I to Lord Falmouth, "that duelling
and suicide should descend so low, and how truly it is said that the
passions only change their names!"
"Ah, for my poor Hubert the cuisine was a real passion. To satisfy
hunger was only a vile trade, he said, but to make people eat when they
were not hungry, he considered a fine art, and one he placed higher than
many another."
"And he was quite right," said I to Lord Falmouth; "for if we all were
virtuous enough only to care for sensual pleasures, how deadly stupid
life would be! The most admirable thing about the cravings of physical
appetite is that they can always be appeased, and being satisfied, bring
us a torpor, a dullness, which has a certain charm, while the desires of
the mind, its most splendid imaginings, only fill us with regret and
bitterness."
"I think as you do," said Lord Falmouth, "it is evident that every
abstract thought pursued too long a time only leaves us in a state of
lassitude and chagrin, because it is not given to the human species to
comprehend the eternally true, nor to attain to the eternally perfect,
while a physical appetite liberally satisfied leaves the organisation
calm and contented, because in this man has fulfilled an exact want of
nature."
"That is true; thought wears one out and destroys one."
"And besides," said Lord Falmouth, as he slowly emptied his glass, "all
this time life is passing, every day we exclaim, 'What a bore!' but that
doesn't prevent, Lord be praised! the hours from gliding along all the
same."
"And so we arrive," said I, "at the end of our term of life, day by
day,--hour after hour."
Lord Falmouth made a gesture of resignation, filled his glass, and
pushed the decanter over to me.
We remained this way some moments without speaking a word. Lord Falmouth
was the first to break the silence. He said to me: "Is your travelling
carriage in order?"
"To be sure it is," said I, very much surprised at such a sudden
question.
"Listen," said he, as though he were speaking of the most ordinary
topic. "At the present hour you are extremely unhappy. You have not told
me why, consequently I am ignorant as to the cause of your grief. Paris
is as hateful to you as it is a bore to me. I have sometimes dreamed of
a wild project which I have always wished to carry out, so seductive has
it seemed to me, but to do so I need a companion who feels in himself
the energy and desire to attain to new and powerful emotions, perhaps at
the risk of his life." I looked steadily at Lord Falmouth. He continued
to drain his glass in little sips. "I needed, in order to put this plan
into execution, to find some one who, in order to become my associate,
would be ready, as the country folks say, to go to the devil,--not
through want, but from a superabundance of the joys and good things of
this life."
I continued to watch Lord Falmouth, thinking that he was joking; he
remained just as calm and serious as he always was.
"Well," said he at length, "are you willing to be that companion?"
"But what is it that I am expected to undertake?" I asked him, with a
smile.
"I can not tell you yet; but if you accept my offer this is what you
will have to do: First you must expect to travel a year or more, or
even--"
"Or even for all eternity. Yes, I understand. And afterwards, what
else?"
"You are only to take with you one man, but he must be trustworthy,
healthy, and brave."
"I have such a one among my servants."
"Very well; then you must bring fifteen or twenty thousand francs, not
more."
"What else?"
"Provide yourself and your man with the best possible arms."
I continued to smile as I watched Lord Falmouth. "It is getting to be
serious," said I.
"Allow me to finish, afterwards you can act as you see fit," he
continued. "You must provide yourself with excellent arms, get your
passport, and send immediately for your horses."
"What! start off to-night?"
"This very night,--this very hour; you must give me what I need to write
to my _valet de chambre_, my waiting man will take it to him, and will
return with all I shall want and my carriage, for it is important that
you should have your carriage and I should have mine."
"Ah, come, now, are you speaking seriously?"
"Give me a chance to write, and you shall soon find out."
And in a few moments Lord Falmouth had written his letter, and one of
his men had started off with it.
"But," said I, "my clothes--my trunks?"
"If you will take my advice you will only carry with you the necessary
linen for your voyage."
"But how long is that journey to be? What road do we take?"
"The road to Marseilles."
"Are we going to Marseilles?"
"Not exactly, but to a little port which is near that city."
"And what to do there?"
"We are to embark."
"And in what direction are we to sail?"
"That is my secret; trust in me and you will not regret it. However, I
should tell you, perhaps," added he, in a tone which moved me deeply, "I
ought to tell you without any silly trifling, that you will do as well
to arrange any business you may have on your mind, in case of our not
returning."
"You mean I am to make my will?" I cried out, laughing at such an idea.
"Do as you please," said Lord Falmouth, in the most uninterested way
possible.
Still continuing to believe this voyage in the light of a mystification
in which I was willing to indulge him, I was so desirous of quitting
Paris, where such cruel souvenirs continued to sadden my life, that I
decided to write a few last words as a measure of prudence; however, I
said to Lord Falmouth:
"Oh, I see, it is a bet you have made, to get me to make my will."
"Then don't make it," said he, without changing his expression.
I knew that on several occasions Lord Falmouth had started off in this
impromptu way on very long voyages. I thought then, that, perhaps, after
all, he felt the desire for a sudden change. Now his companionship was
very agreeable to me, and the object of the voyage, which he tried to
hide from me (doubtless to excite my curiosity) by an appearance of
mystery, might suit me very well. Perhaps, though, it might have
unforeseen consequences, and so I might as well write a few directions
in case we should not return, as he said.
This sudden determination looks as strange to me to-day as were the
results it brought about; but I had been so forlorn lately, I was so
perfectly free from any attachment, any affection, any duty, that the
suddenness of the determination pleased me, as any strange new thing
pleases us when we are but twenty-five years old.
I sent for my old tutor, and left him my directions and full power to
attend to my affairs.
At the end of an hour's time my preparations were all finished, and the
carriage of Lord Falmouth was waiting for us. I got into it with him.
Our men servants were to follow us in mine.
Ten minutes afterwards we had left Paris.
LORD FALMOUTH