Before he arrived there he encountered his master, Justice Hautmartin,
who asked; “Jacques, what art thou carrying?”
“A box for Mother Manon. But, sir, I cannot say from whom it comes.”
“Why not?”
“Because Colin would always detest me.”
“It is well that thou canst keep a secret. But it is already late; give
me the box, for I am going to-morrow to see Mother Manon; I will deliver
it to her and not betray that it came from Colin. It will save thee a
walk, and furnish me a good excuse for calling on the old lady.”
Jacques gave the box to his master, whom he was accustomed to obey
implicitly in all things. The justice bore it into his chamber, and
examined it by the light with some curiosity. On the lid was neatly
written with red chalk: “For the lovely and dear Marietta.” But Monsieur
Hautmartin well knew that this was some of Colin’s mischief, and that
some knavish trick lurked under the whole. He therefore opened the box
carefully for fear that a mouse or rat should be concealed within.
When he beheld the wondrous cup, which he had seen at Vence, he was
dreadfully shocked, for Monsieur Hautmartin was a skilful casuist, and
knew that the inventions and devices of the human heart are evil from
our youth upward. He saw at once that Colin designed this cup as a
means of bringing misfortune upon Marietta: perhaps to give out, when it
should be in her possession, that it was the present of some successful
lover in the town, or the like, so that all decent people would
thereafter keep aloof from Marietta. Therefore Monsieur Hautmartin
resolved, in order to prevent any evil reports, to profess himself
the giver. Moreover, he loved Marietta, and would gladly have seen her
observe more strictly toward himself the sayings of the gray-headed
priest Jerome, “Little children, love one another.” In truth, Monsieur
Hautmartin was a little child of fifty years old, and Marietta did
not think the saying applied particularly to him. Mother Manon, on the
contrary, thought that the justice was a clever little child, he had
gold and a high reputation from one end of Napoule to the other. And
when the justice spoke of marriage, and Marietta ran away in affright,
Mother Manon remained sitting, and had no fear for the tall, staid
gentleman. It must also be confessed there were no faults in his person.
And although Colin might be the handsomest man in the village, yet the
justice far surpassed him in two things, namely, in the number of years,
and in a very, very big nose. Yes, this nose, which always went before
the justice like a herald to proclaim his approach, was a real elephant
among human noses.
With this proboscis, his good purpose, and the cup, the justice went the
following morning to the house between the olive trees and the African
acacias.
“For the beautiful Marietta,” said he, “I hold nothing too costly.
Yesterday you admired the cup at Vence; to-day allow me, lovely
Marietta, to lay it and my devoted heart at your feet.”
Manon and Marietta were transported beyond measure when they beheld the
cup. Manon’s eyes glistened with delight, but Marietta turned and said:
“I can neither take your heart nor your cup.”
Then Mother Marion was angry, and cried out: “But I accept both heart
and cup. Oh, thou little fool, how long wilt thou despise thy good
fortune! For whom dost thou tarry? Will a count of Provence make thee
his bride, that thou scornest the Justice of Napoule? I know better how
to look after my interests. Monsieur Hautmartin, I deem it an honor to
call thee my son-in-law.”
Then Marietta went out and wept bitterly, and hated the beautiful cup
with all her heart.
But the justice, drawing the palm of his flabby hand over his nose,
spoke thus judiciously:
“Mother Manon, hurry nothing. The dove will at length, when it learns
to know me better, give way. I am not impetuous. I have some skill among
women, and before a quarter of a year passes by I will insinuate myself
into Marietta’s good graces.”
“Thy nose is too large for that,” whispered Marietta, who listened
outside the door and laughed to herself. In fact, the quarter of a year
passed by and Monsieur Hautmartin had not yet pierced the heart even
with the tip of his nose.