"Mademoiselle,--
"Desperate situations justify desperate measures. I am willing to
believe that I am still, by your desire, undergoing a terrible ordeal,
but I judge myself sufficiently tried.
"I am ready for everything except the misery of losing you. My last sane
idea is uttered in this warning.
"I must see you; I must speak to you.
"Do not refuse me a few moments' conversation--Mademoiselle, in the name
of Heaven save me! save yourself!
"There is in the neighborhood of the château some farmhouse, or shady
grove. Name any spot where I can meet you in an hour. I am awaiting your
answer.... After an hour has passed I will wait for nothing more in this
world."
The gardener walked along with the nonchalance of the man of the
Georgics, as if meditating upon the sum of happiness contained in a
piece of gold. I looked after him with that resignation we feel as the
end of a great trial approaches.
He was soon lost to view, and in the distance I heard a door open and
shut.
In a few minutes Mlle. Chateaudun would be reading my letter. I read it
over in my own mind, and rapidly conjectured the impression each word
would make upon her heart.
Through the thick foliage where I was concealed, I had a confused view
of one wing of the château; the wall appeared to be covered with green
tapestry torn in a thousand places. I could distinguish nothing clearly
at a distance of twenty yards. Finally I saw approaching a graceful
figure clad in white--and through the trees I caught sight of a blue
scarf--a muslin dress and blue scarf--nothing more, and yet my heart
stood still! My sensations at this moment are beyond analyzation. I felt
an emotion that a man in love will comprehend at once.... A muslin dress
fluttering under the trees where the fountains ripple and the birds
sing! Is there a more thrilling sight?
I stood with one foot forward on the gravel-path, and with folded arms
and bowed head I waited. I saw the scarf fringe before seeing the face.
I looked up, and there stood before me a lovely woman ... but it was not
Irene!...
It was Mad. de Lorgeville. She knew me and I recognised her, having
known her before her marriage. She still possessed the beauty of her
girlhood, and marriage had perfected her loveliness by adorning her with
that fascinating grace that is wanting even in Raphael's madonnas.
A peal of merry laughter rooted me to the spot and changed the current
of my ideas. The lady was seized with such a fit of gayety that she
could scarcely speak, but managed to gasp out my name and title in
broken syllables. Like a great many men, I can stand much from women
that I am not in love with.... I stood with arms crossed and hat off,
waiting for an explanation of this foolish reception. After several
attempts, Mad. de Lorgeville succeeded in making her little speech.
After this storm of laughter there was still a ripple through which I
could distinguish the following words, although I did not understand
them:--
"Excuse me, monsieur, ... but if you knew ... when you see ... but she
must not see my foolish merriment, ... she cherishes the fancy that she
is still young, ... like all women who are no longer so, ... give me
your arm, ... we were at table ... we always keep a seat for a chance
visitor ... One does not often meet with an adventure like this except
in novels...."
I made an effort to assume that calmness and boldness that saved my life
the day I was made prisoner on the inhospitable coast of Borneo, and the
old Arab king accused me of having attempted the traffic of gold dust--a
capital crime--and said to the fair young châtelaine:
"Madame, there is not much to amuse one in the country; gayety is a
precious thing; it cannot be bought; happy is he who gives it. I
congratulate myself upon being able to present it to you. Can you not
give me back half of it, madame?"
"Yes, monsieur, come and take it yourself," said Madame de Lorgeville;
"but you must use it with discretion before witnesses."
"I can assure you, madame, that I have not come to your château in
search of gayety. Allow me to escort you to the door and then retire."
"You are my prisoner, monsieur, and I shall not grant your request. The
arrival of the Prince de Monbert is a piece of good fortune. My husband
and I will not be ungrateful to the good genius that brought you here.
We shall keep you."
"One moment, madame," said I, stopping in front of the château; "I
accept the happiness of being retained by you; but will you be good
enough to name the persons I am to meet here?"
"They are all friends of M. de Monbert."
"Friends are the very people I dread, madame."
"But they are all women."
"Women I dread most of all."
"Ah! monsieur, it is quite evident that you have been among savages for
ten years."
"Savages are the only beings I am not afraid of!"
"Alas! monsieur, I have nothing in that line to offer you. This evening
I can show you some neighbors who resemble the tribes of the Tortoise of
the Great Serpent--these are the only natives I can dispose of. At
present you will only see my husband, two ladies who are almost widows,
and a young lady" ... here Mad. de Lorgeville was seized with a new fit
of laughter ... finally she continued: "A young lady whose name you will
know later."
"I know it already, madame."
"Perhaps you do ... to-morrow our company will be increased by two
persons, my brother." ...
"The handsome Léon!"
"Ah you know him!... My brother Léon and his wife." ...
I started so violently that I dropped Mad. de Lorgeville's arm--she
looked frightened, and I said in a painfully constrained voice:
"And his wife.... Mad. de Varèzes?... Ah! I did not know that M. de
Varèzes was married."
"My brother was married a month ago," said Mad. Lorgeville. "He married
Mlle. de Bligny."
"Are you certain of that, madame?"
This question was asked in a voice and accompanied by an expression of
countenance that would have made a painter or musician desperate, even
were they Rossini or Delacroix.
Mad. de Lorgeville, alarmed a second time by my excited manner, looked
at me with commiseration, as if she thought me crazy! Certainly neither
my face nor manner indicated sanity.
"You ask if I am sure my brother is married!" said Mad. de Lorgeville
with petrified astonishment. "You are surely jesting?"
"Yes, madame, yes," said I, with an exuberance of gayety, "it is a
joke.... I understand it all ... I comprehend everything ... that is to
say--I understand nothing ... but your brother, the excellent Léon de
Varèzes, is married--that is all I wanted to know.... What a very
handsome young man he is!... I suppose, madame, that you opened my note
without reading the address ... or did Mlle. de Chateaudun send you here
to meet me?"
"Mlle. de Chateaudun is not here ... excuse this silly laughter ... the
gardener gave your note to one of my guests ... a young lady of
sixty-five summers.... Who by the strangest coincidence is named Mlle.
de Chantverdun.... Now you can account for my amusement ... Mlle. de
Chantverdun is a canoness. She read your letter, and wished for once in
her life to enjoy uttering a shriek of alarm and faint at the sight of a
love letter; so come monsieur," said Mad. de Lorgeville, smilingly
leading me towards the house, "come and make your excuses to Mlle. de
Chantverdun, who has recovered her senses and sent me to her
rendezvous."
Involuntarily, my dear Edgar, I indulged in this short monologue after
the manner of the old romancers: O tender love! passion full of
intoxication and torment! love that kills and resuscitates! What a
terrible vacuum thou must leave in life, when age exiles thee from our
heart! Which means that I was resuscitated by Mad. de Lorgeville's last
words!
In a few minutes I was bowing with a moderate degree of respect before
Mlle. de Chantverdun, and making her such adroit excuses that she was
enchanted with me. Happiness had restored my presence of mind--my
deferential manner and apologies delighted the poor old-young lady. I
made her believe that this mistake was entirely owing to a similarity of
names, and that the age of Mile. de Chantverdun was an additional point
of resemblance.
This distinction was difficult to manage in its exquisite delicacy; my
skilfulness won the approbation of Mad. de Lorgeville.
We passed a charming afternoon. I had recovered my gayety that trouble
had almost destroyed, and enjoyed myself so much that sunset found me
still at the château. Dear Edgar, this time I am not mistaken in my
conjectures. Mile, de Chateaudun is imposing a trying ordeal upon me--I
am more convinced of it than ever; it is the expiation before entering
Paradise. Hasten your love affairs and prepare for marriage--we will
have a double wedding, and we can introduce our wives on the same day.
This would be the crowning of my dearest hopes--a fitting seal to our
life-long friendship!