MONSIEUR DROQVILLE.
Full of this exciting hope, I sauntered out, upon the steps of
the Belle Etoile. It was now night, and a pleasant moonlight over
everything. I had entered more into my romance since my arrival,
and this poetic light heightened the sentiment. What a drama, if
she turned out to be the Count's daughter, and in love with me!
What a delightful--_tragedy_, if she turned out to be the Count's
wife!
In this luxurious mood, I was accosted by a tall and very
elegantly-made gentleman, who appeared to be about fifty. His air
was courtly and graceful, and there was in his whole manner and
appearance something so distinguished, that it was impossible not
to suspect him of being a person of rank.
He had been standing upon the steps, looking out, like me, upon
the moonlight effects that transformed, as it were, the objects
and buildings in the little street. He accosted me, I say, with
the politeness, at once easy and lofty, of a French nobleman of
the old school. He asked me if I were not Mr. Beckett? I
assented; and he immediately introduced himself as the Marquis
d'Harmonville (this information he gave me in a low tone), and
asked leave to present me with a letter from Lord R----, who knew
my father slightly, and had once done me, also, a trifling
kindness.
This English peer, I may mention, stood very high in the
political world, and was named as the most probable successor to
the distinguished post of English Minister at Paris.
I received it with a low bow, and read:
"MY DEAR BECKETT,
"I beg to introduce my very dear friend, the Marquis
d'Harmonville, who will explain to you the nature of the services
it may be in your power to render him and us."
He went on to speak of the Marquis as a man whose great wealth,
whose intimate relations with the old families, and whose
legitimate influence with the court rendered him the fittest
possible person for those friendly offices which, at the desire
of his own sovereign, and of our government, he has so obligingly
undertaken.
It added a great deal to my perplexity, when I read, further--
"By-the-bye, Walton was here yesterday, and told me that your seat was
likely to be attacked; something, he says, is unquestionably going on at
Domwell. You know there is an awkwardness in my meddling ever so
cautiously. But I advise, if it is not very officious, your making
Haxton look after it, and report immediately. I fear it is serious. I
ought to have mentioned that, for reasons that you will see, when you
have talked with him for five minutes, the Marquis--with the concurrence
of all our friends--drops his title, for a few weeks, and is at present
plain Monsieur Droqville.
"I am this moment going to town, and can say no more.
"Yours faithfully,
"R----."
I was utterly puzzled. I could scarcely boast of Lord ----'s
acquaintance. I knew no one named Haxton, and, except my hatter,
no one called Walton; and this peer wrote as if we were intimate
friends! I looked at the back of the letter, and the mystery was
solved. And now, to my consternation--for I was plain Richard
Beckett--I read--
"_To George Stanhope Beckett, Esq., M.P._"
I looked with consternation in the face of the Marquis.
"What apology can I offer to Monsieur the Mar--to Monsieur
Droqville? It is true my name is Beckett--it is true I am known,
though very slightly to Lord R----; but the letter was not
intended for me. My name is Richard Beckett--this is to Mr.
Stanhope Beckett, the member for Shillingsworth. What can I say,
or do, in this unfortunate situation? I can only give you my
honour as a gentleman, that, for me, the letter, which I now
return, shall remain as unviolated a secret as before I opened
it. I am so shocked and grieved that such a mistake should have
occurred!"
I dare say my honest vexation and good faith were pretty legibly
written in my countenance; for the look of gloomy embarrassment
which had for a moment settled on the face of the Marquis,
brightened; he smiled, kindly, and extended his hand.
"I have not the least doubt that Monsieur Beckett will respect my
little secret. As a mistake was destined to occur, I have reason
to thank my good stars that it should have been with a gentleman
of honour. Monsieur Beckett will permit me, I hope, to place his
name among those of my friends?"
I thanked the Marquis very much for his kind expressions. He went
on to say--
"If, Monsieur, I can persuade you to visit me at Claironville,
in Normandy, where I hope to see, on the 15th of August, a great
many friends, whose acquaintance it might interest you to make, I
shall be too happy."
I thanked him, of course, very gratefully for his hospitality. He
continued:
"I cannot, for the present, see my friends, for reasons which you
may surmise, at my house in Paris. But Monsieur will be so good
as to let me know the hotel he means to stay at in Paris; and he
will find that although the Marquis d'Harmonville is not in town,
that Monsieur Droqville will not lose sight of him."
With many acknowledgments I gave him the information he desired.
"And in the meantime," he continued, "if you think of any way in
which Monsieur Droqville can be of use to you, our communication
shall not be interrupted, and I shall so manage matters that you
can easily let me know."
I was very much flattered. The Marquis had, as we say, taken a
fancy to me. Such likings at first sight often ripen into lasting
friendships. To be sure it was just possible that the Marquis
might think it prudent to keep the involuntary depository of a
political secret, even so vague a one, in good humour.
Very graciously the Marquis took his leave, going up the stairs
of the Belle Etoile.
I remained upon the steps, for a minute lost in speculation upon
this new theme of interest. But the wonderful eyes, the thrilling
voice, the exquisite figure of the beautiful lady who had taken
possession of my imagination, quickly reasserted their influence.
I was again gazing at the sympathetic moon, and descending the
steps, I loitered along the pavements among strange objects, and
houses that were antique and picturesque, in a dreamy state,
thinking.
In a little while, I turned into the inn-yard again. There had
come a lull. Instead of the noisy place it was, an hour or two
before, the yard was perfectly still and empty, except for the
carriages that stood here and there. Perhaps there was a
servants' table-d'hôte just then. I was rather pleased to find
solitude; and undisturbed I found out my lady-love's carriage, in
the moonlight. I mused, I walked round it; I was as utterly
foolish and maudlin as very young men, in my situation, usually
are. The blinds were down, the doors, I suppose, locked. The
brilliant moonlight revealed everything, and cast sharp, black
shadows of wheel, and bar, and spring, on the pavement. I stood
before the escutcheon painted on the door, which I had examined
in the daylight. I wondered how often her eyes had rested on the
same object. I pondered in a charming dream. A harsh, loud voice,
over my shoulder, said suddenly,
"A red stork--good! The stork is a bird of prey; it is vigilant,
greedy, and catches gudgeons. Red, too!--blood red! Ha! ha! the
symbol is appropriate."
I had turned about, and beheld the palest face I ever saw. It was
broad, ugly, and malignant. The figure was that of a French
officer, in undress, and was six feet high. Across the nose and
eyebrow there was a deep scar, which made the repulsive face
grimmer.
The officer elevated his chin and his eyebrows, with a scoffing
chuckle, and said,--"I have shot a stork, with a rifle bullet,
when he thought himself safe in the clouds, for mere sport!" (He
shrugged, and laughed malignantly). "See, Monsieur; when a man
like me--a man of energy, you understand, a man with all his wits
about him, a man who has made the tour of Europe under canvas,
and, _parbleu!_ often without it--resolves to discover a secret,
expose a crime, catch a thief, spit a robber on the point of his
sword, it is odd if he does not succeed. Ha! ha! ha! Adieu,
Monsieur!"
He turned with an angry whisk on his heel, and swaggered with
long strides out of the gate.