Although he had long known the Duke de Riancourt, Florestan had never
met the princess and her niece: but seeing him enter with the two
ladies, he hastened toward him with a welcoming smile.
"My dear Saint-Herem," said the duke, "allow me to present Princess
Wileska and the Countess Zomaloff. These ladies hope you will think it
no indiscretion on their part if they visit your mansion and its
wonders with me, according to the invitation you extended yesterday."
"My dear duke, I am only too flattered by the honor of this visit,"
replied the young man, "and I shall be very happy to show you what you
are pleased to call the _wonders of this house_."
"M. de Riancourt was right to speak of wonders," rejoined Madame
Zomaloff, "for I admit that we are so dazzled by a first glance, that
we can not conscientiously admire any one thing."
"My dear Saint-Herem," resumed the duke, "I may as well make a clean
breast of it and admit that the countess' visit is not entirely
disinterested. I have told her of your intentions concerning this
place, and as I am to have the pleasure and honor of bestowing my name
on the countess in a week, you understand that I cannot decide without
her approval--since, after all, I stand somewhat in the light of--of a
husband."
"Really, madame," observed Florestan gaily to the countess, "since the
duke anticipates thus on his happiness, do you not think it only right
that he should bear the whole consequences of his revelation?
Therefore, as a husband never gives his arm to his wife, you may
perhaps do me the pleasure of accepting mine!"
By this sally Saint-Herem spared himself the obligation of offering his
arm to Princess Wileska, who, in his eyes, appeared a much less
agreeable companion than her beautiful niece. He therefore led the way
with the countess, while M. de Riancourt followed with the princess.
"I have traveled much," remarked the countess to her companion, "and I
have never seen anything that could equal--not in magnificence, for any
millionaire can purchase magnificence with his money--but the marvelous
taste which has presided over the construction of this place. It is a
veritable musée of splendors--allow me to pause and admire the superb
paintings of this ceiling."
"After the admiration of the work comes the reward to the author; does
it not, madame?" returned Florestan with a smile. "One word from your
lips, countess, will make the artist, who painted this ceiling, the
happiest and proudest man in the universe," he concluded, with a wave
of the hand toward one of the most illustrious masters of the modern
school.
"A thousand thanks for procuring me such good fortune," replied the
countess, advancing toward the artist.
"My dear friend," said Florestan, "the Countess Zomaloff wishes to
express to you all her admiration for your work."
"Not my admiration only, but my gratitude also," rejoined the young
woman graciously. "The exquisite pleasure given by such a
master-piece, is a debt contracted toward its creator."
"However precious and flattering such praises may be to me," returned
the artist, with a modesty marked by good taste, "I can only accept a
share of it. Pray allow me to place myself _hors de cause_, I can then
express myself more freely. For instance, let us take the painting of
the concert gallery, which you will admire by and by; they are due to
our Raphaël--M. Ingrès. Well, this monumental work, which in the
future will furnish art pilgrims as much cause of admiration as the
most beautiful frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, would perhaps never
have existed were it not for my excellent friend Saint-Herem. Was it
not he who gave our French Raphael the subject of one of his immortal
pages? Truly, madame, in these days of vulgar luxuries and brutal
magnificences, is it not a phenomenon to meet a _Medicis_, as in the
brightest epoch of Italian republics?"
"You are right," said the countess, enthusiastically, "and history is
just in illustrating--"
"Forgive the interruption, countess," laughed Florestan, "but I am as
modest as my illustrious friend; and for fear your admiration should be
thrown away on an unworthy object, I shall point out the veritable
_Medici_--This is he."
As he spoke, he designated the portrait above the chimney.
"What a pensive, austere face!" exclaimed the countess, gazing at the
painting with a feeling of mingled surprise and curiosity. Then, as
her eyes fell on the inscription below, she added with increased
astonishment:
"Saint-Ramon?--Who is he?"
"A saint of my own, madame," laughed Florestan. "He was my uncle; and
although I am not yet a pope, I have taken the liberty to canonize this
admirable man in recognition of his long martyrdom during life and the
miracles he accomplished after his death."
"His long martyrdom and his miracles!" echoed the countess. "You must
be jesting, monsieur?"
"Not at all, madame. My uncle Ramon endured the most atrocious
privations during his long life, for he was pitilessly and sublimely
avaricious--this was his martyrdom. At his death, I inherited his
enormous wealth and conceived this prodigious work of art--these are
his miracles. I have sanctified his memory by gratitude--this is his
canonization. As you see, it is a veritable legend taken from the
_Lives of the Saints_."
Struck by the originality of the young man, Madame Zomaloff remained
silent for a moment, absorbed in deep meditation; while the duke, who
until then had loitered some distance behind, approached them.
"My dear Florestan," he said, "I have been very eager to address you a
really odd question since my arrival. Who are all these people? I
recognize a few eminent artists, here and there, and a renowned
architect, but none of the rest. The princess and myself have vainly
searched the key to the enigma. They are all quiet and reserved, and
the young girls appear very modest, while a few are really pretty; but
I am anxious to learn to what class of society they belong!"
"Since M. de Riancourt has the courage to ask you so indiscreet a
question," broke in the countess, "I shall admit that I share his
curiosity."
"You have no doubt remarked," said Florestan, with a smile, "that the
persons assembled here this evening do not belong to what we call the
aristocracy--"
"True, indeed."
"Yet, madame, a few moments ago you were happy to meet the great artist
who designed the dome you so much admired, were you not?"
"Indeed, the meeting caused me great pleasure, I assure you."
"I believe you also approve me for inviting him, as well as many of his
colleagues, to the inauguration of their united work?"
"The invitation certainly seemed almost a duty on your part, monsieur."
"Well, madame, this duty, inspired by gratitude, I have fulfilled
toward all who have contributed to the construction of this house, from
the greatest artist to the most humble workman. All are here with
their families, to enjoy the splendors they have created. Is it not
just that the skillful and obscure man who chiseled the golden cup
should moisten his lips in it, once, at least, in his life?"
"What!" cried the duke in stupefaction, "these are carpenters, gilders,
blacksmiths, paper-hangers, ebonists, masons!--even masons! Why, it is
absurd, impossible, incredible!"
"My dear duke, do you know the habits of the bees?" queried Florestan.
"Very little," replied the duke stiffly.
"Their habits are most savage and impertinent, my dear duke. Those
insolent creatures--under the fabulous pretext that they have
constructed their hives--have the impudence to inhabit them. And, what
is more shocking still, they claim their right to the sweet honey on
which they have so steadily and intelligently labored through the
season--"
"Well, and what do you conclude from that?"
"I conclude from it that, through gratitude at least, we should allow
the poor, laboring human bees the innocent pleasure of inhabiting for a
single day the gilded hive they have built for idle drones like us, who
enjoy the honey gathered by others."
The countess, who had drawn a little apart, now again placed her hand
on Florestan's arm and gently led him a little away from her aunt and
M. de Riancourt.
"Monsieur de Saint-Herem," she said with emotion, as they walked slowly
on, "your idea is not only charming, but of a touching delicacy. I am
no longer astonished at the air of contentment which pervades around
us, and which I have remarked on the features of your guests. The more
I think of it, the more generous and just it seems to me. After all,
as you say, this is the work of these laborers, and you have honored
and dignified labor by this fête. From your point of view, this
mansion must be far more than an object of art and luxury to you, for
many precious souvenirs are attached to its creation."
"You are right, madame."
"Then--"
"Go on, madame,"
"I cannot understand why--"
"Why do you hesitate? Pray, explain your thought!"
There was a moment of silence, then she resumed, with some
embarrassment:
"Two days ago, in speaking of the difficulty of purchasing a mansion as
large and sumptuous as I desired, M. de Riancourt recalled the fact
that you wished to sell this property."
"Yes; the duke wrote to me, requesting permission to visit the house.
I begged him to wait till this evening, as he could then see the
reception-rooms to more advantage--but I did not then anticipate the
honor of receiving you."
"Monsieur de Saint-Herem," she said, still hesitatingly, "you have been
very indulgent to me--will you allow me one more question?"
"Indulgence in this instance has been so sweet and agreeable to me,
that I shall thank you for the opportunity of exercising it once more.
What is it?"
"How can you have the courage, or, rather--I shall use a very harsh
word, I fear--how can you have the ingratitude to leave this house,
which you have created with so much love, and to which are attached so
many kind, generous souvenirs?"
"Upon my word, madame!" he replied carelessly, as if he were saying the
most natural thing in the world, "I must sell this mansion because I am
ruined, completely ruined. This is my last day of good fortune and
wealth, and you must admit, madame, that, thanks to your presence here,
this day could not have a more brilliant or happier evening!"