HOW ANGELOT REFUSED WHAT HAD NOT BEEN OFFERED
Madame de Sainfoy herself hardly knew why she wished to consult the
family, there and then, on the fate proposed for Hélène. The truth was,
she relied on Urbain, and wanted his support against her husband, with
whom the subject was a difficult one. As to Anne de la Marinière, no
particular sympathy was to be expected from her, certainly; but one
could not detain Urbain at that hour without detaining her too. It was
the same with Joseph, in a less degree. Neither to him nor to Madame
Urbain did it matter in the least what marriage was arranged for Hélène
de Sainfoy; they had even no right to an opinion; they were neither aunt
nor uncle, they had no special place in the world, and the girl had
nothing to expect from them. But Madame de Sainfoy knew that her husband
took a different view of all this, that he made a certain fuss with
these old cousins, considered them as his family, and would not endure
that they should be in any way shut out or slighted.
"He likes to be surrounded by these country admirers," Madame de
Sainfoy would have said. "If I do not talk to them about this, he will;
and it will please him that I should consult them. Urbain is different,
of course. Urbain is a sensible man; he will be on my side."
So she put Madame Urbain, rather grave, indifferent, and tired, into a
chair on her right, smiled brilliantly upon her, and turned her
attention upon the two men standing before the fireplace, Hervé and
Urbain, one troubled and curious, for he knew her well, and her drift
puzzled him, the other gay, serene, and waiting her commands with ready
deference. Monsieur Joseph, not much interested, thinking of his talks
with the Prefect and Monsieur des Barres, impatient to hurry home and
say good night to Riette, sat a little in the background.
With all her eagerness, with all her ambition and policy, Adélaïde de
Sainfoy flushed and hesitated a little before she set forth her plan.
"My friends," she said, "this is a family council. Hervé and I are
fortunate, here at Lancilly. We need no longer decide family affairs by
our unassisted wits."
She smiled on Hervé's cousins, and Urbain bowed; he, at least,
recognised the honour that was done them.
"A proposal of marriage has been made to me for our daughter Hélène."
She spoke to the company, but looked at her husband; there was fear as
well as defiance in her eyes. He returned her gaze steadily, slightly
frowning. Urbain bowed again, and looked at the floor with an
inscrutable countenance. Anne shrugged her shoulders slightly, as if to
say, "How does that concern me?" Joseph jumped suddenly from his chair,
the colour rushing into his thin brown face, and stood like a point of
exclamation. Nobody spoke, not even Hélène's father.
"Let me announce to you," said Madame de Sainfoy, still looking at him,
"that the personage who has done us this honour is--Monsieur le Général
Ratoneau."
The moment of dead silence that followed this was broken by a short
laugh from the Comte.
"Was it worth while to consult a family council?" he said. "I should
have thought, my dear Adélaïde, that a word from you might have settled
that matter on the spot."
Monsieur Joseph said aside: "Honour! It is an insult!"
Anne opened her eyes wide with horror, and even Urbain was startled, but
he prudently said nothing.
"It might--it certainly might--" said Madame de Sainfoy, "if I could
have been sure that you would take my view, Hervé."
"I imagine that we could hardly differ on such a point!" he said,
shrugging his shoulders.
"What is your opinion, then? Think well before you speak."
"On my honour, no thought is necessary. To speak very mildly, a man of
that birth, manners, appearance, is not worth considering at all as a
husband for Hélène. Come, it is ridiculous! You cannot have encouraged
such an idea, Adélaïde! Was that the subject of all your long
conversation? Waste of time, truly!"
"Pardon, it is not ridiculous," said Madame de Sainfoy. "Your prejudices
will end by sending Hélène into a convent; this, I believe, is the
fourth good proposal that you have laughed at. Yes, a good
proposal--listen, Urbain, I know you will agree with me, for every
sensible man must. You talk of General Ratoneau's birth! All honour to
him, that his talents and courage have raised him above it. As to his
manners, they are those of a soldier; frank and rough, of course, but he
seems to me both intelligent and sincere. Manners! It is a little late
in the day to talk of them, when most of the Marshals of France and the
new nobility have none better. Do you fancy yourself back in the
eighteenth century, my poor Hervé?"
"Very well--but you would not like Georges to bring such manners home
from Spain!"
"If Georges distinguishes himself, and gains the Emperor's favour, he
may bring home what he likes," said Madame de Sainfoy, scornfully.
"However, there is no danger; he is our son."
"I should have thought that our son-in-law mattered at least as much."
"We are not responsible for him. By the bye, as to the General's
appearance, you can hardly object to that without bordering on treason.
For my part, I call him a handsome man."
"A handsome butcher!" said Anne de la Marinière, under her breath.
"He is--he is a butcher's son," cried Joseph, suddenly. "I know it--the
Prefect told me. His father is still alive--old Ratoneau--a wholesale
butcher at Marseilles. He was one of the foremost among the
Revolutionists there--a butcher, indeed. Oh, madame, Hervé is right! But
it is more than ridiculous--it is impossible. Why, the very name is
enough! Ratoneau!"
Madame de Sainfoy hardly seemed to hear him. She put him on one side
with the slightest movement of her hand.
"Next year, probably," she said, "General Ratoneau will be a Marshal of
France and ennobled. He will be the equal of all those other men who
have already married into our best families. At this moment a friend of
his, the Baron de Beauclair, formerly his equal, is an equerry to the
Empress. General Ratoneau has only to do the Emperor's work here, to--to
pacify and reconcile the West, and his turn will come."
She gave herself credit for not repeating Ratoneau's own words as to
sweeping out the Chouans. Joseph de la Marinière did not deserve such
consideration, but she wished to be careful and politic.
"After all, do you not see how inconsistent we are?" she said to the
company generally. "We take all the benefits of the Empire, we submit to
a successful soldier, accept a new régime for ourselves, and refuse it
for our children. Is it not unreasonable?"
"On the face of it, yes," said Urbain, speaking for the first time. "And
there is nothing, they say, that pleases the Emperor so much as the
marriage of his officers with young ladies of good family. I have no
doubt at all, if my friend Hervé could reconcile himself, that
Mademoiselle Hélène would further the fortunes of her family by such a
marriage as this. General Ratoneau is a fine soldier, I believe. I agree
with you, madame, he is handsome. He rubs our instincts a little the
wrong way, but after all, this is not the time to be sensitive. As to
Mademoiselle Hélène herself, I am sure she is most dutiful. I could
imagine marriages more obnoxious to her. She would soon reconcile
herself to a husband chosen for her by all the authorities."
"Poor Hélène!" sighed Madame de la Marinière.
"Come, Urbain, you friend of liberty!" exclaimed Joseph. "You advise
internal tyranny, it seems; what would you say to the external? If I
were in my cousin's place, I would wait for that before making such a
sacrifice."
"What do you mean, Joseph?" said his brother.
"I mean that our dear Prefect has the fates of all our young daughters
in his hands. He has only to report them to the Emperor, and a marriage
to please His Majesty will be at once arranged. Is not that enough
obedience? Cannot we wait for that necessity, instead of running
beforehand to give a beautiful girl to the first brutal soldier who asks
for her?"
And after that the argument waxed loud and strong. Monsieur Joseph was
called upon for his authority, for particulars as to this new power
given to the Prefects, which was hardly yet known, their own good
Prefect being heartily ashamed of it. Hervé de Sainfoy declared that it
was stupid and intolerable, but also impracticable, and in this he and
his Royalist cousin agreed. No one would bear it, they were sure; but
they were also convinced that De Mauves would never make use of it.
Urbain shrugged his shoulders, and was of a different opinion. He
thought the idea quite of a piece with many of Napoleon's other
administrative plans; it seemed to him far-reaching and clever, the
foundation of a new Imperialist nobility. Madame de Sainfoy, her cheeks
flushed, her blue eyes shining, applauded Urbain as he spoke. It seemed
to her, as to him, common sense put into practice. If the foolish old
families of France would not swallow and assimilate the new order of
things, it must be forced down their throats. The Emperor, and no one
else, had the power to do this. His resolute will had the task of making
a new society, and it was useless to complain of his means. But,
evidently, the way to the Emperor's favour was not to wait for coercion,
but to accept this fine opportunity of ranging one's family definitely
on his side. Georges an officer, Hélène married to an officer, herself a
lady-in-waiting to Marie Louise; thus everything would be arranged for
floating down the great river of the Empire into the ocean of a new
world. And immediate action seemed all the more advisable, if the
Prefect's false delicacy was likely to leave the Sainfoy family stranded
on a reef of old-fashioned manners.
At last, when every one had ceased to talk at once and the clamour was a
little stilled, Hervé de Sainfoy stepped forward and made his wife a low
bow.
"Madame," he said, "I have heard all your arguments, and my
old-fashioned prejudices remain the same. I have made some sacrifices to
keep our country and position, and may have to make more; but when you
ask me to give my eldest daughter to a man who is not even a poor
imitation of a gentleman, you ask too much. I will choose a husband for
Hélène myself, or she shall take the veil. That life, at least, has its
distinction. Aunts, great-aunts, cousins, have chosen it before her. One
of our best and most beautiful ancestors was a Carmelite nun."
Madame de la Marinière clapped her hands gently. Hervé smiled at her,
and Madame de Sainfoy frowned.
"A convent! No, no!" cried Urbain, while Joseph muttered breathlessly,
"But there is a better alternative, dear cousins!"
He flew out of the room. The rest of the council looked at each other,
puzzled and smiling, except Madame de Sainfoy, whose irritation
deepened. Who was this tiresome, old-fashioned little man, that he
should interfere in her plans! and what _lubies_ might possess him now!
The curtains at the door, flung back by Joseph, had hardly settled once
more into their places when he came back again, clutching Angelot by the
arm.
Coming from the darkness, from the presence of Hélène, Angelot was
dazzled and slightly out of breath when his uncle dragged him into the
salon. He had not had time to ask a question; he came utterly unprepared
into the presence of the family, and the faces that received him were
not encouraging. Three at least were flushed with anger or confusion;
his father's, his mother's, Madame de Sainfoy's. It was at her that he
looked most intently; and he had never seen anything more unfriendly
than the gleam of her eyes, the flash of her white teeth between lips
suddenly drawn back like those of a fierce animal, while her flush
faded, as Monsieur Joseph spoke, to a whiteness even more threatening.
He understood Hélène's words, "If she knew, she would kill me." No,
this woman would not have much mercy on anything that crossed her
will--and Hélène was in her power.
Monsieur Joseph's slight hands, like Angelot's, were strong. The young
fellow tried instinctively to wrench himself from his uncle's grasp on
his arm, but it only tightened.
"Here, dear friends, I bring you the alternative!" cried Monsieur
Joseph, in his joyfullest tone. "Why not marry Mademoiselle Hélène to
the best and handsomest boy in Anjou--in France, for that matter--a boy
we have all known from his cradle--who will have a good fortune, a
prudent father's only child--who would, no doubt, though I grieve to say
it, serve under any flag you please for such a prize. Yes, I am safe in
saying so, for--"
The romantic little gentleman was stopped in his wild career. Angelot,
his eyes blazing, with a white face and teeth set as furiously as Madame
de Sainfoy's own, turned round upon him, seized him with his free hand
by the other arm, and shook him with all his young strength, hissing
out: "Will you be quiet, Uncle Joseph! Will you hold your tongue, if you
please, and leave me to manage my own affairs."
"Come, come, what does all this mean?" cried Urbain, stepping forward.
"It means that my uncle is mad--mad--you know you are!" Angelot said in
a choked voice.
Still holding Monsieur Joseph with a dog's firm grip, he stared into his
eyes and shook his head violently.
"What, ungrateful--" the little uncle tried to say, but Angelot's face,
his totally unexpected rage, seemed to suggest such unknown mysteries
that the words died in his throat.
Suddenly released, he dropped into a chair and swore prodigiously under
his breath, quite forgetting the presence of ladies in the unnatural,
awful change that had come over his nephew. He stared at Angelot, who
was indeed the centre of all eyes; his mother sitting upright in
consternation; his father with angry brow and queerly smiling mouth;
Hervé de Sainfoy very grave, with elevated eyebrows; the Comtesse
leaning back in her chair, hard, fierce, watchful, yet a shade less
angry than before. If this was only a fancy of that ridiculous Joseph,
it might not signify--yet who knew? She was ready to suspect any one,
every one, even the young man's father. The name of La Marinière was
odious to her.
Angelot drew himself very upright, folded his arms, and turned to face
the family council.
"See what it is to have an uncle!" he said, and his voice, though clear
enough, was not quite so proud and convincing as his attitude. "He
treats me like a child crying for the moon. If he could, he would fetch
the moon out of the sky for me. But his kind pains are quite thrown
away, mesdames et messieurs, for--I do not want the moon, any more than
the moon wants me!"
He almost laughed; and only the quick change of colour in his young face
showed that any feeling lay behind the words which sounded--in Monsieur
Joseph's ears at least--heartlessly playful.
Angelot stepped up to Madame de Sainfoy and respectfully kissed her
hand. "Bonsoir, madame!"
"Bonsoir, Angelot."
She spoke coldly; she was still uneasy, still suspicious; she gave him a
keen look, and his eyelids were not lifted to meet it. In another moment
he was gone.
Then the others gathered round poor Monsieur Joseph, and tried to make
him explain his wild behaviour. At first he stared at them vaguely, then
in a few quick words took all the blame upon himself. Yes, it was an
idea that had suddenly seized him. His love for Angelot, the beauty and
sweetness of Hélène, a dream of happiness for them both! A pastoral
poem, in short! but it seemed that the young man was not worthy of his
place as its hero.
"It seems, after all, I am more poetical than you," he said rather
bitterly to Urbain.
"My dear," his brother said, "poetry at its best is the highest good
sense. Now your idea, as the boy himself let us know, is moonstruck
madness."
"Ah, moonstruck madness! Ah, the boy! Yes, yes," said Monsieur Joseph,
dreamily, and he also took his leave.
Monsieur Urbain and his wife followed immediately. Angelot had not
waited for them and the little hooded carriage, but had walked on across
the valley in the cool damp darkness. They talked very seriously as they
drove home, for once in entire agreement. When they reached the manor,
their son had shut himself into his own room, and they did not disturb
him.
"I hope you will soon keep your word, and find a suitable husband for
Hélène," Madame de Sainfoy said to her husband. "I am a little tired of
the business."
"I don't think there will be much difficulty. We must look further
afield. Plenty of men of our own rank have accepted the Empire, and
Hélène is a match for a Prince, though our little cousin refuses her! I
rather like that boy."
"Do you? I do not. Certainly he was candid--and he put an effectual stop
to his uncle's absurdities. He is really out of his mind, that man. I
wish the Chouans joy of him."
"Poor Joseph! After all, he is an excellent creature. In these days, it
is amusing to meet any one so wild and so romantic."
"I find it tiresome," said Adélaïde.