HOW CAPTAIN GEORGES PAID A VISIT OF CEREMONY
Georges de Sainfoy had always been his mother's image and idol. It was
not wonderful then that he should take her side strongly in this matter
of his sister's love affair and marriage.
Hélène, for him, was a poor pretty fool just out of the schoolroom, who
must learn her duty in life, and the sooner the better. Angelot was a
country boy, his pretensions below contempt, who yet deserved sharp
punishment for lifting his eyes so high, if not for the cool air of
equality with which he had ordered back his superior cousin's carriage.
General Ratoneau, in a soldier's eyes, was a distinguished man, a future
Marshal of France. Nothing more was needed to make him a desirable
brother-in-law. Georges was enthusiastic on that point.
Two things there were, which his mother impressed upon him earnestly and
with difficulty; one, that Ratoneau's probable triumph was a secret, and
must seem as great a surprise to herself and to him as it really would
be to Hélène and his father; the other, that for the sake of Urbain de
la Marinière, the valuable friend, he must pick no fresh quarrel with
Angelot, already deep in disgrace with all the family.
"It is as well that you told me, or I should have been tempted to try a
horse-whipping," said Captain Georges.
Two days after his arrival he rode off to Sonnay-le-Loir. It was the
right thing for an officer on leave to pay a visit of ceremony to the
General in command of the division, as well as to the Prefect of the
department, and this necessity came in very well at the moment.
Madame de Sainfoy spoke confidently, but she was in reality not quite
easy in her mind. She had seen and heard nothing of General Ratoneau
since the day when Urbain put his short letter into her hand. Sometimes,
impatient and anxious, worried by Hélène's pale face and the fear of
some soft-hearted weakness on Hervé's part, she found it difficult to
bear day after day of suspense and silence. Suppose the affair were
going ill, and not well! Suppose that, after all, the Prefect had
refused to gratify the General, and that no imperial command was coming
to break down Hervé's resistance, strong enough in that quarter! Georges
promised her, as he rode away, that the matter should be cleared up to
her satisfaction.
He found the town of Sonnay-le-Loir, and General Ratoneau himself, in a
state of considerable agitation. The excellent Prefect was very ill. He
was never a strong man physically, and the nervous irritation caused by
such a colleague as Ratoneau might have been partly the cause of his
present collapse. Sorely against his will he had listened to Ratoneau's
fresh argument, and had consented to stop a whole string of political
arrests by forwarding the marriage the General had set his heart upon.
His own personal danger, if he had defied the General, would have been
by no means small. Simon was right; Ratoneau could have represented his
mild measures in such a light as to ruin him, along with those Angevin
gentlemen whom he was trying by gentle means to reconcile with the
Empire. At that precise moment he could not even punish the man he
suspected of betraying him. Ratoneau had protected his tool so far as to
leave him nameless; but in any case, from the imperial point of view, a
man who denounced Chouans was doing his duty. As to the fact of sending
up Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's name to the Emperor and suggesting for her
the very husband whom her father had refused to accept--the chief sin,
in the eyes of that day, was the unfriendly action towards her father.
The whole system was odious; it appeared more or less so, according to
the degree of refinement in the officials who had to work it; yet it
came from the Emperor, and could not be entirely set aside; also every
marriage, in one way or another, was an arranged thing; it must suit
family politics, if not the interests of the Empire. Nothing strange
from the outside--and all the world would look at it so--in the marriage
of the Comte de Sainfoy's daughter with the local General of division.
The lady's unwillingness was a mere detail, of which the laws of society
would take no cognizance. The sentimental view which called such a
marriage sacrilege was absurd, after all, and the Prefect knew it.
Indeed, after the first, the thought of Hélène's face did not trouble
him so much as that of the _coup de patte_ in store for her father, the
stealthy blow to come from himself, the old, the trusted
fellow-countryman.
But the injury to Hervé de Sainfoy weighed lightly, after all, when
balanced with the arrest and ruin of Joseph de la Marinière and possibly
his young nephew, as well as of Monsieur des Barres, Monsieur de
Bourmont, the Messieurs d'Ombré, and other men more or less suspected of
conspiring against the Empire. Even if this, perhaps deserved, had been
all! but the Prefect knew very well that an enemy such as Ratoneau would
not be satisfied without his own degradation.
He had yet one resource, delay. There was the chance that Hervé de
Sainfoy might arrange some other marriage for his daughter; and the
Prefect went so far as to consider the possibility of sending him a word
of warning, but then thought it too dangerous, not quite trusting
Hervé's discretion, and gave up the idea. From day to day he put off
sending the necessary papers to Paris. From day to day, after the
eventful interview, he managed to avoid any private conversation with
Ratoneau. This was possible, as the General was occupied in reviewing
the troops in the neighbourhood, and was absent from Sonnay for several
days. Then a new ally stepped in on Hélène's side, and touched the
Prefect gently, but effectively. When General Ratoneau returned to
Sonnay, the very day before Georges de Sainfoy's visit, he was met by
the news that a slight stroke of paralysis had deprived Monsieur de
Mauves of his speech, and of the use of his right hand. Going at once to
the Prefecture, roughly demanding an interview with the Prefect, he
encountered a will stronger than his own in that of the Sonnay doctor,
who absolutely refused to let any one into the sickroom.
"But he must have written to Paris--he must--he promised me that he
would," Ratoneau assured Georges de Sainfoy, who stood before him
frowning doubtfully. "He dared not disappoint me. I have him under my
thumb, I tell you--like that--" he crushed a fly on the table.
"I see--but why all this delay?" said the young man.
Ratoneau drummed with his fist and whistled. "Delay, yes--" he said. "I
meant Monsieur le Préfet to give an account of himself yesterday--I
suppose I am as impatient as you are--" he grinned. "After all,
monsieur, this official business takes time. It is only a fortnight
since I brought the good man to his marrow-bones. Ah, I wish you had
seen him! the grimaces he made! When I went first he defied me, as bold
as you please. Your father was his friend, he would do nothing to annoy
your father. Then, when I went back with a little more information, he
began to see all his beloved Chouans in prison, as well as himself. I
had him then. He began to see, perhaps, that a man in my position was
not such an impossible husband for a young girl of good family. Ha, ha!"
"A fortnight seems to me quite long enough to write to Paris and get an
answer," said Georges.
He was a little sorry for himself. He wished he had seen Ratoneau for
the first time on horseback, a smart, correct officer, reviewing his
troops. Then it would have been easy enough to accept him as a
brother-in-law. But this red-faced, slovenly creature in careless
undress, made even more repulsive by his uncanny likeness to
Napoleon--vulgar in manners, bragging in talk! De Sainfoy had met
strange varieties of men among his brother officers, but never anything
quite so forbidding as this. He did not give his sister a thought of
pity; it was not in him; but he had a moment of sympathy with his
father, of surprise at his mother. However, he was not the man to be
conquered by prejudice. If the affair was disagreeable, all the more
reason to push it through quickly, to reach any advantages it might
bring. His smooth young brow had a new line across it; that was all.
"You talk of the Prefect's 'beloved Chouans,' Monsieur le Général," he
said. "It seems to me that in any case he is not fit for his position.
It sounds like treason, what you say."
"Ah! that is another question," said Ratoneau. "That need not concern us
just now, you and me. He must do what we want, first of all; later on we
shall see. Remember, Monsieur le Vicomte, any active measures against
the Chouans would touch your family--your connections, at least. Very
complicated, the state of society in this province. I wish for nothing
better than to sweep out all these tiresome people, but it behoves me to
move gently."
Georges could not help smiling. "That must be against your principles
and your inclinations, Monsieur le Général."
"It is against my interests," Ratoneau said, drily enough.
"Inclinations--well, yes. I should be sorry to annoy Monsieur Urbain de
la Marinière, who is on my side in these affairs. He is a sensible man.
His brother's right place is in a state prison. As to that son of
his--well, he wants a sharp lesson, and one of these days he will have
it. He is an impudent young scoundrel, that little La Marinière."
Ratoneau lifted his dark eyes and looked straight at Georges, who
flushed under his gaze.
"But perhaps you think better of your cousin?" the General said.
"No--I dislike him. He is a presumptuous fellow."
"Presumptuous in what way?"
Georges shrugged his shoulders. There were limits to the complaisance he
found due to this future relation; the family secrets, the family
confidences, though they might indirectly concern him, should at least
be kept from him for the present. Georges knew all his sister's story,
as far as her mother knew it. The story was safe, though out of no
kindness to Hélène.
"He thinks too much of himself," said Georges, and laughed rather
awkwardly. "He orders his betters about as if he were the chief
landowner of the country, instead of a farmer's son. This happened to me
the other night, Monsieur le Général."
He went on to describe his adventure in the steep lane, and how Angelot
had ordered his men to back the horses. The General listened with some
impatience.
"Sapristi! he is a hero of the lanes, this Angelot. I have had my
experience, too," but he did not describe it. "He will make himself
plenty of enemies, that cousin of yours. However, let him swagger as he
likes among horses and cows, till he finds himself between four walls
with his friends the Chouans. I should like to be assured that his airs
will carry him no further. To speak plainly, Monsieur le Vicomte, when I
saw them together at Lancilly, I fancied that he and mademoiselle your
sister--I see by your face that I was right!"
The General started up with an oath. Georges faced him, cool and
dignified.
"My sister is safe in my mother's care, Monsieur le Général. Do not
disturb yourself."
"But do you know, monsieur, that the servants thought the same as I
did?"
"What can that signify to you or to me, monsieur?"
Ratoneau flung himself back into his chair with an angry laugh. The
proud disgust of the young captain's tone had a certain effect upon him;
yet he was not altogether reassured.
"Will you tell me on your honour," he growled, "that you know nothing of
any love affair between that young cub and your sister? I swear, sir, I
distrust you all. It is your mother's interest to marry her to me,
but--"
"The imperial order has not yet been sent down," said Georges, his blue
eyes flashing like steel.
He would have said more; he did not know what he might have said, for at
that moment his sympathy with his father was growing by leaps and
bounds, and his mother's plan began to seem incomprehensible. However,
to do her justice, she had never seen General Ratoneau as he saw him.
"What do you mean by that?" said Ratoneau, sharply, and Georges found
himself already repenting.
For the thing had to be carried through, and he knew it.
Further argument was stopped, at that moment, by a gentle tap at the
door.
"Come in!" roared the General. "What the devil have you got there,
Simon?"
The police agent stepped lightly across the room. He laid a folded paper
on the table, and drew out from between its pages an unsealed letter. He
spread this out with the signature uppermost, "_De Mauves, Préfet du
Loir._"
Georges de Sainfoy, a silent looker-on, stood by the chimneypiece while
General Ratoneau eagerly seized the papers. He first read the letter,
which seemed to give him satisfaction, for he laughed aloud; then he
snatched up the larger document, which looked like a government report
of some kind. Simon, in his gendarme's dress, stood grinning in the
background.
"But--but in the name of thunder what does all this mean?" Ratoneau's
looks had changed to sudden fury. "Are these copies or originals? Simon,
you ass, do you mean to tell me--"
Simon shrugged his shoulders and showed his teeth.
"Sorry, Monsieur le Général, but no fault of mine! I made sure they had
gone to Paris by the last courier, if not before. The originals,
undoubtedly."
"You make sure in a queer sort of way," said Ratoneau. "You told me the
Prefect's secretary was in your hands, that you had access to his
bureaux at any time. You lied, then?"
"No, Monsieur le Général," Simon answered, gently and readily. "Or how
should I have got hold of the papers? We have nothing to do now but to
get them dispatched at once to the Minister of Police, who will pass
them on to Monsieur le Duc de Frioul."
"Go downstairs, and wait till I send for you."
Simon went, not without a side-glance at the silent young officer,
standing tall, fair, and stiff as if on parade, no feeling of any sort
showing itself through the correctness of his bearing.
"Is that her brother? Curious!" the spy muttered as he slipped away.
General Ratoneau ran his eye once more over the paper in his hand, then
looked at Georges and held it out to him.
"The delay is vexatious," he said, "and my friend the Prefect shall pay
for it, one of these days. But at any rate, the thing is now in our own
hands, and there can be no cheating. Report and letter are what they
should be--I might have guessed that the old villain would put off
sending them--hoping for some loophole, I suppose. However, you can tell
Madame la Comtesse that you have seen the documents, and that they
start for Paris to-night."
Georges de Sainfoy read the document, truly a strange one, and it was a
strange sort of man who had the effrontery to put it into his hand. Like
a flash of blinding light, it showed the revolutionary, the tyrannical
side of the Empire which had fascinated him on its side of military
glory.
This paper gave a full description, as officially demanded, of
Mademoiselle Hélène de Sainfoy, aged nineteen. It mentioned her personal
attractions, her _éducation distinguée_, her probable dowry, the names
and position of her parents, the extent and situation of her
property--in short, every particular likely to be useful in arranging a
marriage for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy. It was all highly complimentary,
and it was supposed to be a confidential communication from the Prefect
to Savary, Duc de Rovigo, the Minister of Police. But it was not
pleasant reading for Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's brother, however
devotedly imperialist he might be.
He stepped forward and laid it on the table without a remark. Ratoneau,
watching him keenly, smiled, and held out the letter.
"A private letter from Monsieur le Préfet? I do not read it," said
Georges, shortly.
"As you please, my friend," said Ratoneau. "I only show you these things
for the satisfaction of Madame la Comtesse. Monsieur Urbain de la
Marinière may be interested, too. The letter mentions my distinguished
claims on His Majesty, and suggests me as a husband for mademoiselle.
That is all. I think it will be effectual. But now, monsieur, you have
not answered my little question about your cousin Angelot. He is in love
with your sister, n'est-ce pas?"
"As you put it so, monsieur, I think it is not unlikely," said Georges.
"But what does that signify? Every one knows it is an impossibility,
even himself, ambitious fool as he may be."
"And the young lady?" said Ratoneau, his face darkening.
"My mother answers for her," Georges answered coldly, and bowed himself
out.
He had information enough to carry back to his mother.
He was not too comfortable in his mind, having ideas of honour, at the
unscrupulous doings by which Hélène's future husband was protecting his
own interests and bringing his marriage about. He rather wished, though
he worshipped power, that this powerful General had been a different
sort of man.
"Still he may make her a good husband," he thought. "He is jealous
already."
He rode across the square, gay and stately in his Chasseur uniform, and
dismounted at the Prefecture to leave his card and to enquire for
Monsieur de Mauves.
Ratoneau watched him from the window with a dissatisfied frown, then
rang sharply for Simon.
"That young fellow would turn against me on small provocation," he said.
"Now--as to the seal for these papers--you can procure that, I suppose?"
"Leave that to me, monsieur."
"Another thing: this means further delay, and I am not sure that you
were entirely wrong about young La Marinière. Listen. He would be better
out of the way until this affair is settled. He has been met in company
with known Chouans. A word to the wise, Simon. Devise something, or go
to the devil, for I've done with you."
"But there is nothing easier, monsieur! Nothing in the world!" Simon
cried joyfully.