THE TETE-A-TETE
Dawn had followed this night so fruitful in events, during which sleep
had not touched Julia's eyes; uneasy, impatient, twenty times had she
arisen from her sofa to go to the door and listen, in the belief that
she could at last distinguish some sound, some disturbance which
indicated the approach of the marquis. But though she had heard every
hour strike during this to her apparently endless night, the seductive
Villebelle had not yet arrived.
The brow of the young Italian was clouded; her eyes, always vivacious
and lustrous, under her change of feeling were now animated by a gloomy
fire which boded ill for those who had caused it; Julia's breast was
oppressed, sighs escaped her lips and she walked aimlessly and angrily
about the apartment, the elegance of which no longer delighted her; she
passed the mirrors without even looking at herself in them. Her vanity
was most painfully mortified and humiliated, she felt insulted by the
indifference of this marquis who had led her to compromise herself thus,
and now failed to keep his appointment, whose conduct, in fact, was
inexcusable. What woman would pardon such neglect?
To allow herself to be abducted with a good grace, and to be forced to
spend the entire night following in solitude. Love will excuse many
things, but self-love excuses nothing.
As soon as daylight paled the light of the candles, Julia opened the
door of the boudoir and, crossing several rooms, ventured into the
corridor.
"I don't believe that I can escape," she said, smiling bitterly; "they
have taken too many precautions to keep me; but monsieur le marquis and
his worthy agent no doubt imagine me to be in a state of ecstatic
happiness at the mere fact of having been brought to this house.
Patience! One day perhaps they will know me better."
Julia went downstairs. Although it was in the depth of winter the
morning was beautiful; the young Italian left by the peristyle and
plunged into the gardens, where she walked up and down the long pathways
and gave herself up to her thoughts.
Day had surprised Marcel and his guest sleeping near the table where
they had supped. Marcel awoke first, recalled his ideas, and could not
conceive why his master had not returned in the night. However, the
door-bell hung in the room where they had slept, and the marquis was a
man who was able to make himself heard.
Marcel pushed Chaudoreille, who opened his little eyes and gazed about
him in astonishment, murmuring,--
"By jingo! I am not at home in the Rue Brise-miche nor in the gambling
den on the Rue Vide-Gousset. Where the devil have I passed the night? My
purse--where is my purse? I had eight crowns in it."
Chaudoreille quickly seized his purse and counted his money, and Marcel
said to him,--
"Come, wake up, why don't you? and remember where you are. Do you think
me capable of robbing you?"
"Good-for-nothing that I am! that good fellow Marcel--I remember
everything now. Forgive me, my friend; but at the first moment I thought
I was at a tavern where I sleep sometimes. What the devil! it's broad
daylight."
"Yes, and monsieur le marquis did not come in during the night; I can't
understand why."
"It is rather singular, and that poor little thing whom we took so much
trouble to bring here, what has she done with herself since yesterday?"
"She's slept the same as we have."
"Ah, my dear Marcel, it's easily seen that you have not studied the sex.
Sleep!--a woman who is waiting her vanquisher for the first time? She
would sooner keep awake all night than go to sleep."
"But when the vanquisher doesn't come, it's necessary for her to do
something."
"Never! never I tell you. Wait, here's an example: I had once arranged a
meeting with a baroness on the borders of the Seine, near the Tour de
Nesle; that also was in winter, and it was horribly cold. Unforeseen
events--a duel--prevented my meeting my beauty. I was wounded, and spent
eight days in bed. On the ninth, as I passed the neighborhood indicated,
by chance, whom should I see there?"
"Your baroness?"
"Exactly. But, the poor woman, she had been frozen for four days, and
that because she would not leave the place of rendezvous."
"Our dame has a good fire and everything that she can desire; she won't
freeze while awaiting my master."
"What do you say, Marcel; shall I go upstairs and chat pleasantly with
her to distract her mind a little?"
"No, indeed, that would be displeasing to monsieur le marquis."
"Well, you're right; I suppose he might take offence at it."
"Don't you think you had much better go and find the person who brought
her here, and tell him that monsieur has not come?"
"No, my dear Marcel; Touquet told me to wait here for the marquis'
orders, and I must follow his instructions. If he does not come for a
fortnight, it's all the same to me; I shall not leave this. You have a
good cellar and plenty of provisions of all kinds, and I find it very
comfortable here; only, I must go out and get some cards for the coming
night, and I'll teach you some tricks which you don't understand."
"All right, I'll go and get our breakfast ready; then I'll go and
inquire whether the young lady wants anything."
"That will do; meanwhile I'll take a turn in the garden and make the
acquaintance of your Hercules."
Chaudoreille arranged his mantle, put on his new ruff, which he had
bought by chance, which pleased him greatly because it came up to his
ears. He brushed up his hat, curled his hair anew, and went into the
garden whistling,--
Viens Aurore,
Je t'implore;
a song which good King Henri had brought into fashion. He paused with an
air of defiance before the statues, and made a grimace at those which
had frightened him the evening before.
At the end of the pathway he perceived Julia, seated in a thicket which,
as yet, was devoid of foliage. The young girl was deep in thought, and
had not heard him approach. Chaudoreille reflected, uncertain whether he
should approach her or whether he should pass on his way. He concluded
to do the first, and drew near her, holding his left hand on his hip,
and, throwing his body back, already beginning to smile. Julia raised
her luminous eyes; but, on recognizing Chaudoreille, a look of humor
flashed over her features, and she said sharply,--
"What do you want with me?"
Chaudoreille paused, arrested in the middle of his smile, and could not
find words to answer her.
"Why were you coming to me?" resumed Julia; "is the marquis here, or his
confidant, the barber Touquet?"
"No, beautiful lady, I am at present alone with you and Marcel in the
house. I have passed the night in watching over your safety, believing
that the marquis would arrive."
"Who is this Marcel? the servant who opened the door to us, I suppose."
"Precisely!"
"He has served the marquis for a long time in this house?"
"No, I believe he has only been here four or five years."
"And you, when did you come here?"
"I came yesterday for the first time."
Julia was silent and Chaudoreille resumed after a moment,--
"Are you acquainted with my intimate friend, the barber Touquet?"
"What does that matter to you," asked the young Italian, glancing
scornfully at Chaudoreille.
"It's nothing to me, certainly--but, since you named him--he's a very
worthy fellow, certainly, and I am honored in being his friend."
"That reflects credit on you," said Julia, smiling ironically.
"Yes, most assuredly," resumed Chaudoreille, who had interpreted Julia's
smile to his own advantage, "we have seen fire together. He is brave,
I'll give him justice for that; he always conducts himself honorably."
"Always? And has he sometimes spoken to you of his parents?--of his
father?"
"My faith, no; I don't believe he was born from the higher classes. In
that matter I am infinitely before him; the Chaudoreilles are of very
pure blood and have a stock which goes back to Noah. Under Charles the
Bald one of my ancestors had himself shaved--"
"What does it matter what your ancestors did? I was talking about the
barber's family."
"That's all right; but my friend Touquet has spoken very little to me
about them. I believe he is from Lorraine and he has told me that he
left his country very early and came very young to Paris, for it is only
there that talent has a chance of success; also Touquet has made money,
and me, thank God, I am--"
Here Chaudoreille's eyes wandered over his doublet, which was stained in
many places, and he covered it with his mantle, resuming,--
"I should be very rich if I had not ruined myself for women."
Julia, who had paid little attention to this last phrase, said to
herself,--
"He ought to be rich if he has helped the marquis in all his follies."
"He is not married," resumed Chaudoreille, "although he could now find a
good match. His house on the Rue des Bourdonnais is a very pretty
property. Perhaps it's because of the little one that he doesn't marry;
perhaps he is going to marry her, I shouldn't be surprised."
"What little one," inquired Julia, curiously.
"The young girl whom he has adopted and who is now sixteen years old."
"The barber Touquet has adopted a child?"
"Why, yes, of course he has. Why, if you know him, how is it that you
are ignorant of that? That's certainly the best act of his life."
"Touquet has done a good action," said Julia, smiling ironically; "I
could not have imagined that, and is this young girl pretty?"
"Hang it! is she pretty? Well, I believe you! She is one--but no," said
Chaudoreille, correcting himself as if struck by a sudden remembrance,
"she is not handsome at all; on the contrary, she is ugly, one might
even say that she is disagreeable."
"One minute you say she is pretty and the next you say she is very ugly;
you don't seem to know what you are saying, Monsieur Chaudoreille."
"One can easily lose his wits when near you, beautiful damsel; but, by
that sword, I swear to you--"
The bell at the garden gate was heard, Chaudoreille stopped; presuming
that it was the marquis and that it would perhaps be dangerous for him
to be surprised in a tete-a-tete with Julia, he escaped by the first
pathway and ran to rejoin Marcel, while the young Italian listened
anxiously and her cheeks assumed a more vivid color.
Marcel opened the door, but it was not the marquis, it was Touquet, who
came alone.
"Your master fought a duel last night," said he to Marcel, "he was
wounded, but very slightly, it seems. I have come to speak to the young
girl. She is perhaps anxious to know what all this means. Where is she
now?"
"In the garden," said Chaudoreille, "but I assure you she is not at all
lonely here. It is true that I have chatted with her--"
"And who gave you permission to do so? You're very bold to converse with
a woman on whom a marquis has laid his eyes."
"Yes, I confess that I am very bold--but I believe you say that
monseigneur fought a duel; do you know with whom he fought?"
"Idiot! Is that our business? Do you suppose I asked him?"
"It's true, it's not our business, but--"
"You have nothing more to do here, get out."
"Do you wish me to take myself off?"
"Yes, and immediately."
"Without being presented to monseigneur, that is very awkward; but at
least--it seems to me that if they have no more need of me they ought to
settle with me."
"Wait! here are ten more crowns; it's more than you are worth, a hundred
times."
"Very well, but the rosette and the broken pane of glass--"
"Hang it, stupid! you're not satisfied?"
"It's all right, it's all right, I'm very well pleased. I mustn't
grumble," added Chaudoreille to himself, "he might happen to remember
the shaves that I owe him."
"Go at once," said the barber, angrily, pointing with his finger to the
garden gate. The Gascon hastily thrust the sum which he had received
into his purse, and placed the latter carefully in his belt,
murmuring,--
"Ten and eight, that's eighteen. By jingo, that will make them stare at
the gambling place in the Rue Vide-Gousset and at the bank of the Rue
Coupe-Gorge." Then he shook Marcel's hand, and wrapping himself in his
mantle left by the middle gate, which was hardly wide enough for him
since he possessed eighteen crowns.
The barber hastened to acquit himself of the commission with which his
master had charged him, that he might return promptly to his house and
be there on the arrival of his customers. He walked hurriedly through
the garden, and soon met Julia, who felt her hope vanish when she
perceived him.
"Madame," said Touquet, bowing to the young girl, "the marquis' conduct
doubtless seems to you rather extraordinary, but you will excuse him
when you learn that he fought a duel last night in the grand
Pre-aux-Clercs and was wounded."
"He is wounded," said Julia, with emotion, "and dangerously?"
"No, madame, it is a very little thing, an arm only. Monsieur le marquis
made this event known to me at break of day and ordered me to come and
tell you. He hoped to be very soon recovered, and able within four or
five days to come and excuse himself; but, if you are wearied in this
place, you are free to return to your shop. I will go and warn you
when--"
"No," said Julia, interrupting him brusquely; "do you imagine I can
return to the dwelling I have left? I will wait for the marquis."
"You are the mistress, and they have orders to satisfy your slightest
wishes."
The barber bowed to Julia, and having given Marcel the marquis' orders,
left the little house and returned to his home.
Five days had elapsed since the young Italian had entered the luxurious
apartments; there she had found a harpsichord, a sitar, books, some
pencils, some sketches, and a wardrobe furnished with everything that
could add a charm to beauty. Marcel, always obedient and discreet,
brought her everything that she desired, without permitting himself the
slightest question; nor did Julia address him, except to ask him for
what she thought necessary to distract her, for the most magnificent
dwelling does not forbid weariness.
It was late on the evening of the sixth day; Julia was attired with
coquetry, in the hope that the marquis would come, but her hope was
vanishing. She lay down upon the sofa, where her reverie had yielded to
a light slumber, when the door of the room opened softly, and the
Marquis de Villebelle appeared at the entrance of the apartment. "She's
not half bad," said he, looking at Julia, who was lying carelessly on
the sofa; then he advanced towards her; the noise awoke the young
Italian, and, opening her eyes, she perceived the great nobleman, whose
rich and elegant costume increased the grace of his bearing. He seated
himself, smiling, at her side. Julia was about to rise.
"Don't move," said the marquis, "you are very well as you are. I
reproach myself with having disturbed your slumber."
"Monseigneur, I had about given you up," said Julia, seeking to
restrain the uneasiness which she felt at the sight of the marquis. "I
have been here for six days, alone in this place."
"Yes, you must hare found it very tiresome I can imagine; but, ma belle,
my messenger must have told you that it was not my fault. My arm is not
cured yet, but I could not longer resist the desire to see this amiable
child who for love of me was willing to live in solitude."
"For love of you, seigneur," said Julia, turning her eyes aside so as
not to meet those of the marquis, which were fixed amorously upon her;
"and who has made you believe that I am in love with you, if you
please?"
"Ah, upon my honor, that is divine. Were you awaiting another here,
then, my angel?"
"I was waiting, monsieur, to learn from you what motive you had in
inducing me to leave my dwelling."
"Delightful by all the devils--delightful. She does not know why they
brought her here. Did nobody tell you, little strategist?"
"It was from you alone that I wished to hear it, seigneur."
"That is correct. Love is ill made by an ambassador; the little god does
not love pages and valets. He wishes to do his work himself. Come, a
kiss first, and we shall understand each other better afterwards."
Julia disengaged herself from the marquis' arms, which he had wound
about her, and withdrawing from him she cried,--
"Please, sir, cease these liberties which offend me!"
"Which offend her!" said the marquis, bursting into laughter, while a
vivid color sprang to Julia's cheek. "Come now, what do you mean by
that? Are we playing a comedy? You wish to make me pay for the weariness
of six days' waiting. Once more, sweetheart, it was not my fault; a duel
at the moment when I was least thinking of it. I must tell you all about
that for it was very droll. I was returning with four of my friends; we
were a little tipsy and were trying to dispute with everybody. We broke
windows, we beat the watch, we tore off the good shopkeepers' wigs; what
can you expect? one must pass the time and show these gentlemen of the
parliament that one does not regard one's self as being comprised in
their edicts, which forbid vagabonds, pages and lackeys to make a noise
at night in the streets of Paris. Finally, we met a girl, which girl was
a boy; he would not tell us why he was disguised, and became angry at
our joking; one of the others lent him a sword and we fought. For a
youngster, zooks how he went on! it was a pleasure to fight with him. In
short, he gave me this cut, which I still feel, and which prevents me
from using my arm; so, sweetheart, I beg of you don't be too cruel, for
I am not in a state to lead an assault."
And the marquis again approached Julia, wishing to enfold her in his
arms; but she disengaged herself and seated herself farther off, while
the former extended himself on the sofa and looked at her smiling, while
whistling a hunting tune.
The breast of the young girl rose more frequently; she turned her head
and carried one of her hands to her eyes.
"What is the matter?" said the marquis, after some minutes. "Are you
crying, by chance? Truly, little one, I can't imagine why. They told me
that you came here with a very good grace; after which I naturally feel
surprised at the severity which you are affecting now; be easy, I will
be very virtuous--since you wish it."
So saying, Villebelle seated himself near Julia and took one of her
hands, which he pressed between his own. The young Italian raised her
eyes to the marquis; there was in the features of the latter something
so noble, so seductive, that it was very easy for him to obtain pardon
for his audacity; accustomed to triumph, he had trespassed through habit
and not through fatuity, and Julia's resistance astonished, but did not
anger him.
"Why are you crying?" said he to her.
"I believed that you loved me, and you despise me."
"I despise you? No, beautiful girl; I love you,--as well as I can love;
and my love will last,--as long as it will; can you ask better?"
"I wish for love; a constant and sincere love."
"Ha! ha! a constant love; sweetheart, you are exacting. Can we promise
that, we others? and in good faith, when the great ladies of the court
cannot come by it, to a grisette; should she hope to hold the Marquis de
Villebelle?"
"Very well," said Julia, rising proudly and walking towards the door,
"the grisette will not yield to the caprice of the great nobleman."
"Upon my honor, she is going, I believe," said the marquis, rushing to
retain Julia and gently leading her to the sofa. "Come, no more
ill-humor. Is it to quarrel that we are here? Time flies rapidly and
carries with it, at every moment, a spark of the enkindling fires of
love. One doesn't wait for pleasure to be extinguished before tasting of
it. I love you. I adore you, you little wretch; but what do you offer me
as the reward of so much ardor?"
"A heart that knows how to love you in a manner in which you have not
been loved before today, a heart whose only happiness will be to beat
for you, which will not have one thought to which you will be a
stranger, nor one desire disconnected from you!"
While saying these words Julia's eyes were animated and she fixed them
on the marquis, seeking no longer to hide the passion with which he had
inspired her.
"What magnificent eyes," said Villebelle, after a moment, "but a little
too exalted in their expression. You are Italian, that is easily seen,
the burning skies under which you were born do not allow you to treat
love as we French treat it, lightly, jokingly; which is, after all, the
best way; the others are too sad."
"Say, rather, that we know how to love truly--while you, seigneur, give
the name of love to the most fleeting fancy, your heart being entirely a
stranger to the real passion."
"Wait, my dear girl! All your discourses on the metaphysics of love are
less convincing to me than one kiss from those lovely lips, and why
should you keep up such a show of resistance? Is it generous to profit
by my being wounded?"
"Have you always been generous, monseigneur?" said Julia, repulsing the
marquis; "and in this place, even, have you nothing to reprove yourself
withal?"
"Why, how's this, little girl, do you wish me to follow a course of
morals?" said Villebelle, laughing. "It seems to me you are abusing my
patience a little. 'Pon my honor those lovely eyes are made to express
pleasure rather than wisdom. And sermons from your mouth! a little
grisette who wishes to play Lucretia here. Come, sweetheart, leave such
twaddling talk. Was it from Tabarin or from Briochee that you learned
those sentences?"
Julia rose, her eyes scintillating, her cheeks a vivid scarlet, and
looking angrily at the marquis cried,--
"And you, seigneur, where did you learn to murder a father in order to
abduct his daughter?"
Villebelle remained as if stunned for a moment; his look fixed on Julia,
who, dismayed herself at the change wrought in the whole appearance of
the marquis, awaited with fear what he should say to her.
The marquis rose, and murmured in a changed voice,--
"What made you think I had ever committed such a terrible crime? Speak,
answer, I command you."
"Seigneur," said the young Italian, "I have heard the story of the
abduction of the beautiful Estrelle, old Delmar's daughter, but the
barber Touquet was then your agent, and I don't doubt that it was he who
wanted you to arm yourself against an old man who was defending his
daughter."
"You have heard some one speak of an adventure which has been forgotten
for seventeen years and you are barely twenty. You have not told me
all--have you known Estrelle? Is she still living? Speak, pray speak,
and count on my gratitude if you assist me to recover that unfortunate
woman."
"You loved her well, did you not?" said Julia, gazing tenderly at the
marquis.
"Yes, yes, I loved her--I should love her still. Pray tell me, is she
still living? Answer me."
"I know no more than you, seigneur, I swear to you. I have never met the
woman who bore that name, and chance made the adventure known to me. On
seeing you and on finding myself in this house, to which Estrelle was
brought, the remembrance of these events was presented to my thoughts;
forgive me for having recalled them to you--you were then very young; I
know, also that old Delmar did not die of his wounds. As to his
daughter, I repeat to you I know no more of her than you do. But you had
outraged me in comparing me to those women whom you can purchase every
day with your riches, while I only desire your love. I am Italian and I
revenged myself!"
The marquis did not answer, he walked slowly up and down the room, from
time to time sighing and glancing around him; but he did not appear to
perceive that Julia was there.
"Yes, I passed a month with her here," said the marquis, looking around
the boudoir, "this abode was not what it is today. I have embellished
it, changed it, in order to drive away the remembrance of her; but never
since have I experienced such entrancing moments as those spent near
Estrelle."
A long silence succeeded these words; then the marquis took his hat and
cloak and slightly inclined his head to Julia, as he said, in a low
voice,--
"I shall see you again tomorrow."
Then he hurriedly quitted the little house in a very different frame of
mind from that in which he had entered it.