Do as you will, heap wrongs on wrongs upon me,
It shall not anger me--I tell thee Claudius,
Thou art enshrined in a holy circle
My foot can never pass--nor taunt, nor insult
Can e’er induce this hand to rise against thee.
Therefore be satisfied--
Once more I tell theo I will not fight with thee.
--Old Play.
On the day on which the interview between Marguerite and the Baron
de Lectoure had taken place, the result of which had proved so
diametrically opposed to the hopes and expectations of the young girl,
on that day at four o’clock, the dinner bell recalled the baron to the
castle. Emanuel did the honors of the table, for the marchioness could
not leave her husband, and Marguerite had requested permission not to
come down stairs. The other guests were the notary, the relations of the
family, and the witnesses. The repast was a gloomy one, notwithstanding
the imperturbable gaiety of Lectoure; but it was evident that by his
joyous humor, so stirring that it appeared feverish, he strove to stun
his own feelings. From time to time, indeed, his boisterous
liveliness failed all at once, like a lamp, the oil of which is nearly
extinguished, and then it suddenly burst forth again, as doth the flame
when it devours its last aliment. At seven o’clock they rose from table,
and went into the drawing-room. It would be difficult to form an idea
of the strange aspect which the old castle then presented; the vast
apartments of which were hung with damask draperies, with gothic
designs, and ornamented with furniture of the times of Louis XIII. and
Louis XIV.
They had been so long closed that they appeared unaccustomed to the
presence of living beings. And, therefore, notwithstanding the abundance
of chandeliers with which the servants had decorated the rooms, the
feeble and vascillating light of the wax candles was insufficient to
illuminate the vast rooms, and in which the voice resounded as under the
arches of a cathedral. The small number of the guests, who were to
be joined during the evening by some three or four gentlemen of the
neighbourhood, increased the gloom which appeared to hover over the
emblazoned columns of the castle. In the centre of one of the saloons,
the same one in which Emanuel, at the moment after his arrival from
Paris, had received Captain Paul, was placed a table prepared with much
solemnity, on which was laid a closed portfolio, which, to the eyes of a
stranger ignorant of all that was preparing, might as well have enclosed
a death warrant as a marriage contract. In the midst of these grave
aspects and gloomy impressions, from time to time a shrill mocking laugh
would reach the ears of a group of persons whispering to each other. It
proceeded from Lectoure, who was amusing himself at the expense of some
good country gentlemen, without any respect for the feelings of Emanuel,
upon whom a portion of his raillery necessarily recoiled. He would,
however, every now and then cast an anxious glance around the room, and
then a gloomy cloud would pervade his features, for he saw not either
his father-in-law, or the marchioness, or Marguerite enter the room.
As we have already stated, that neither of them had been present at
the dinner table, and his interview with the latter had not, however
careless he endeavored to appear, left him without some uneasiness with
regard to the signing of the contract, which was to take place during
the evening. Neither was Emanuel exempt from all anxiety, and he had
just determined to go up to his sister’s apartment, when in passing
through one of the rooms he saw Lectoure, who made a sign to him to draw
near.
“By heaven! you have come in the nick of time, my dear count,” said he
to him, while appearing to pay the greatest attention to a good country
gentleman, who was talking to him, and of whom he seemed on terms of
perfect intimacy; “here is M. de Nozay, who is relating to me some very
curious things, upon my word! But do you know,” continued he, turning
to the narrator, “this is most admirable, and highly interesting. I also
have marshes and ponds, and I must ask my steward as soon as I get to
Paris, to tell me where they are situated. And do you catch many wild
ducks in this way.”
“An immense quantity,” replied the gentleman, and with the accent of
perfect simplicity, which proved that Lectoure could, without fear of
detection, for some time longer sustain the conversation in the same
tone.
“What, then, is this miraculous mode of sporting?” inquired Emanuel.
“Only imagine, my dear friend,” replied Lectoure, with the most complete
sang froid, “that this gentleman gets into the water up to his neck,--At
what time of the year, may I ask, without being indiscreet?”
“In the month of December and January.”
“It is impossible that any thing can be more picturesque. I was saying,
then, that he gets into the water up to his neck, puts a large toadstool
over his head, and conceals himself among the bulrushes. This so
completely metamorphoses him that the ducks do not recognise him, and
allow him to come close to them. Did you not say so?”
“As near as I am to you.”
“Bah! really?” exclaimed Emanuel.
“And this gentleman kills just as many as he pleases.”
“I kill them by dozens,” said he, proudly, being enchanted by the
attention which the two young men were paying to the recital of his
exploits.
“It must be a delightful thing for your good lady, if she be fond of
ducks,” said Emanuel.
“She adores them,” said M. de Nozay.
“I hope you will do me the honor to introduce me to so interesting a
person,” said Lectoure, bowing.
“Undoubtedly baron.”
“I swear to you,” said Lectoure, “that instantly on my return to
Paris, I will speak of this sport in the king’s dressing-room, and I am
persuaded that his majesty himself will make a trial of it in one of his
large ponds of Versailles.”
“I beg your pardon, dear marquis,” said Emanuel, taking Lectoure’s arm,
and whispering in his ear, “this is one of our country neighbors, whom
we could not do otherwise than invite on so solemn an occasion.”
“It requires no apology, my dear friend,” said Lectoure, using the same
precaution not to be heard by the party in question: “you would have
been decidedly wrong had you deprived me of so amusing a companion. He
is an appendage to the dower of my future wife, and I should have been
greatly chagrined not to have made his acquaintance.”
“Monsieur de la Jarry,” said a servant, opening the door.
“A sporting companion?” said Lectoure.
“No,” replied M. de Nozay; “he is a traveller.”
“Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, with an accent which announced that the
newly arrived personage was to be the subject of a new attack. He had
hardly made the ejaculation, when the person announced entered the room,
muffled up in a Polish dress, lined with fur.
“Ah! my dear La Jarry,” cried Emanuel, advancing to meet him, and
holding out his hand to him, “but how you are be-furred! Upon my honor,
you look like the Czar Peter.”
“It is,” replied La Jarry, shivering, although the weather was by no
means cold, “because, when one arrives from Naples--perrrrrou!”
“Ah! the gentleman has arrived from Naples,” said Lectoure, joining in
the conversation.
“Direct, sir.”
“Did you ascend Vesuvius, sir?”
“No. I was satisfied with looking at it from my window. And then,”
continued the traveller, with a tone of contempt, most humiliating to
the volcano, “Vesuvius is not the most curious thing that is to be seen
at Naples. A mountain that smokes? my chimney does as much, when
the wind is in the wrong quarter,--and besides Madame La Jarry was
dreadfully alarmed at the idea of an eruption.”
“But of course you visited the _Grotto del Cane?_” continued Lectoure.
“To what purpose?” rejoined La Jarry; “to see an animal that has
vapors--give a pill to the first poodle that passes, and he will do as
much. And then, Madame La Jarry has quite a passion for dogs, and it
would have given her pain to witness so cruel an exhibition.”
“I hope, however, that a man of science, like yourself,” said Emanuel,
bowing, “did not neglect the Solfatara.”
“Who, I--I would not set my foot there. I can very easily imagine what
three or four acres of sulphur looks like, the sole produce of which is
a few millions of matches. Moreover, Madame La Jarry cannot support the
odour of sulphur.”
“What do you think of our new friend?” said Emanuel, leading Lectoure
into the room in which the contract was to be signed.
“I know not whether it is because I saw the other first, but I decidedly
prefer Nozay.”
The door again opened, and the servant loudly announced, “Monsieur
Paul.”
“Eh!” exclaimed Emanuel, turning round.
“Who is this?” inquired Lectoure, listlessly, “another country
neighbour?”
“No; this is quite another sort of person,” replied Emanuel, with
agitation. “How does this man dare to present himself here?”
“Ah! ah! a plebeian--eh? a common fellow, is he not? but rich, I
suppose. No--a poet? musician? painter? well, I can assure you, Emanuel,
that they are beginning to receive this sort of people--that accursed
philosophy has confounded every thing. It cannot be helped, my dear
fellow, we must courageously make up our minds to it--we have come to
that. An artist sits down by a great noble, elbows him, touches the
corner of his hat to him, remains seated when the other rises--they
converse together on court matters--they jest, they joke, they squabble,
it is _bon ton_ though decidedly bad taste.”
“You are mistaken, Lectoure,” replied Emanuel; “he is neither poet,
painter, or musician: he is a man to whom I must speak alone. Just lead
off Nozay, while I do the same with La Jarry.”
Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours
by the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting
and travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely
closed upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into
the room he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door--the one
led to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up
on his first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between
Marguerite and Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained
there for a moment, looking attentively at the two doors, as though he
had expected to see one of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In
a few moments, that of the library was opened, and he perceived a white
form standing within it; he rushed towards it.
“Is it you, Marguerite?” said he.
“Yes,” replied a trembling voice.
“Well?”
“I told him all?”
“And--”
“And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.”
“I suspected as much--he is a miserable wretch.”
“What’s to be done?” cried the young girl.
“Take courage, Marguerite.”
“Courage--oh! it now fails me entirely.”
“There is that which will restore it,” said Paul, handing her a letter.
“What does this letter contain?”
“The name of the village in which you will find your son, and the name
of the woman in whose house he has been concealed.”
“My son! oh! you are my guardian angel,” cried Marguerite, endeavoring
to kiss the hand which held the paper to her.
“Silence! someone is coming--whatever may happen, you will find one at
Achards.”
Marguerite suddenly closed the door without replying to him, for she had
heard: the sound of her brother’s footsteps. Paul turned round, and went
to meet him, which he did, near the table.
“I expected you at another time, sir, and in less numerous company,”
said Emanuel, who was the first to speak.
“It appears to me that we are alone at this moment,” said Paul, glancing
around the room.
“Yes, but it is here that the contract is to be signed, and in an
instant this room will be full.”
“But many things may be said in an instant, count.”
“You are right, sir, but you must meet a man who does not require more
than an instant to comprehend them.”
“I am listening,” said Paul.
“You spoke to me of letters,” rejoined Emanuel, drawing nearer to him,
and lowering his voice.
“It is true,” said Paul, with the same calmness.
“You fixed a price upon those letters?”
“That is also true.”
“Well, then! if you are a man of honor, for that price, for the sum
enclosed in this pocket-book, you ought now to be prepared to give them
up.”
“Yes, sir, yes,” replied Paul, “the case stood thus, as long as I
believed your sister, forgetful of the vows she had made, the fault
she had committed, and even the child to which she had given birth, was
seconding your ambition by her perjury. Then, I thought it would be a
sufficiently bitter fate for the poor child to enter upon life without
a name and without a family, not to allow him to enter it without
a fortune also, and I then demanded of you, it is true, that sum in
exchange for the letters in my possession. But now the state of things
is altered, sir. I saw your sister throw herself upon her knees before
you, I heard her entreat you not to force her into this infamous
marriage, and neither prayers, nor tears, nor supplications could make
any impression on your heart. It is now for me, for me who hold your
honor, and the honor of your family within my hands, it is for me to
save the mother from despair, as I would have saved the child from
penury and misery. Those letters, sir, shall be delivered to you, when
you shall, upon this table, instead of signing the marriage contract
of your sister with the Baron de Lectoure, sign that of Mademoiselle
Marguerite d’Auray with Anatole de Lusignan.”
“Never, sir, never!”
“You shall not have them, excepting on that condition, count.”
“Oh! I shall, perhaps, find some mode of compiling you to return them.”
“I know not any,” coldly replied Paul.
“Will you, sir, deliver those letters to me!”
“Count,” replied Paul, with an expression of countenance, which, under
the circumstances, was perfectly inexplicable to Emanuel, “count, listen
to me?”
“Will you return me those letters, sir?”
“Count--”
“Yes, or no!”
“No!” said Paul, calmly.
“Well then, sir, you wear a sword, as I do; we are both gentlemen, or
rather I would believe you to be such; let us leave the house together,
and one of us shall return alone, and he, being unfettered and powerful
from the death of the other, shall then do as he best pleases.”
“I regret I cannot accept the offer, count.”
“How? you wear that uniform, that cross upon your breast, by your side
that sword, and you refuse a duel.”
“Yes, Emanuel, I do refuse it, because I cannot raise my sword against
you, count--believe me, I entreat you.”
“You cannot fight with me!”
“I cannot, upon my honor.”
“You cannot fight with me, you say?”
“At this moment a person who had entered the room without being
perceived, burst into a loud laugh, close behind the two young men. Paul
and Emanuel turned hastily round. Lectoure was standing close to them.
“But,” said Paul, pointing to Lectoure, “I can fight with him, for he is
a miserable and infamous wretch.”
A burning blush passed over Lectoure’s features, like the reflection of
a flame. He made a step towards Paul, and then stopped.
“It is well, sir,” said he; “send your second to Emanuel and they can
arrange this matter.”
“You will understand that between us the affair is merely deferred,”
said Emanuel, to Paul.
“Silence!” replied Paul, “they are announcing your mother.”
“Yes, silence, and to-morrow we meet again. Lectoure,” added Emanuel,
“let us go to receive my mother.”
Paul looked silently at the young men as they retired, and then he
entered the small room in which he had before been concealed.