GODLER, TREVELE.
TREVELE (_to_ GODLER, _while eating a cake_).
I assure you that Nourvady is a personage apart. Listen now; let us eat
all the cakes, drink all the lemonade, and during that time you can
solve the enigma, for at length you ought to know what is going on in
this house, you who have always been a friend of the Marchioness of
Quansas. It is said even....
GODLER (_after looking around him_).
In 1853.
TREVELE.
You are decided?
GODLER.
In 1853.
TREVELE.
Why did you never tell it?
GODLER.
In 1853 there was a Madam Duranton, who kept a shop in the rue
Traversiere.
TREVELE.
Where may the rue Traversiere be?
GODLER.
It was a little cross street, of compromised fame, leading from the rue
St. Honore to the rue Richelieu. Madame Duranton, a widow--one could not
be more a widow--sold left-off clothes. You can imagine the rest....
TREVELE.
Yes, I see, I see; make haste.
GODLER.
Madame Duranton, at whose house two or three friends and I went
sometimes to pass the evening, and who gave us sometimes cider and
chesnuts in her little back shop....
TREVELE.
In 1853?
GODLER.
In 1853.
TREVELE.
How old were you?
GODLER.
I was 39 years old.
TREVELE.
You are old, then?
GODLER.
I am 66.
TREVELE.
You don't look that age.
GODLER.
Because I get myself up very well.
TREVELE.
What a good fellow! Go on.
GODLER.
Would you like us to make a bet?
TREVELE.
No, you would gain it; Florimond has told it to me.
GODLER (_who is sitting down_).
Very well; go and shut the window, and give me something to drink.
TREVELE.
Go on.
GODLER.
Madame Duranton had a daughter.
TREVELE.
To whom you made love?
GODLER.
To whom we all made love, without any good intention--you can
understand. The young girl, then between 18 and 19 years old, was a
beautiful creature, with naturally golden hair, like women have
artificially now-a-days, with violet-blue eyes, cheeks like a rose of
Bengal, and teeth and lips resembling almonds between two halves of a
cherry.
(_During this time_ GODLER _from time to time arranges his whiskers, and
a lock of hair which falls over his forehead, with a little comb that he
takes out of his pocket_.)
TREVELE.
One could almost wish to taste thereof. You are a poet!
GODLER.
That I had from my youth. At that time....
TREVELE.
In your youth?
GODLER.
No, in 1853, there were a king and queen....
TREVELE.
Who reigned....
GODLER.
Exactly.
TREVELE.
Happy time! Where did they reign?
GODLER.
At Bagdad.
TREVELE.
Thank you.
GODLER.
This king and this queen had an only son, who was to succeed them. This
son, 23 years old, took much too seriously his part of heir-presumptive.
But what was the use of having a crown, if, in his turn, he was not to
have an heir to leave it to? However, nothing in the young prince
indicated the least inclination towards love, legitimate or otherwise.
TREVELE.
He was not like you.
GODLER.
No, he was not like me.
TREVELE.
Go on.
GODLER.
Always study; always reflection; always indifference.
TREVELE.
A strange prince!
GODLER.
The ambassadors opened negotiation upon negotiation uselessly with
foreign courts in view of a political alliance. Several young
princesses of surrounding countries, of Hindostan, of Persia, and even
of Europe....
TREVELE.
How well you relate a thing!
GODLER.
Were waiting full-dressed, their hair well-dressed and splendidly
perfumed, for the king of Bagdad to ask their hand for his son. The
telegraph replied always: Wait! Wait!
TREVELE.
Go on quickly.
GODLER.
A chamberlain had a very simple idea.
TREVELE.
In general the ideas of chamberlains are very simple.
GODLER.
This was, to let the prince travel, in order that he might see other
women than those of Bagdad, since they were acknowledged to be
insufficient, and to send him at once to Paris.
TREVELE.
Bad complaints require strong remedies.
GODLER.
But this was not all; beauty was necessary, and it must be stock of a
particular kind: also those that he did not marry must differ only in
rank from the one he did marry. In fact, it was not a Lycoenion, but
a perfect Chloe, that was sought for the instruction of this Daphnis,
and it was not to be child's play.
TREVELE.
I see the young Lionnette dawning. But how did everything come about?
GODLER.
That will make the subject of the following chapter. The ambassador of
Bagdad came with us sometimes in the evening, to eat chesnuts and drink
cider at Madame Duranton's.
TREVELE.
And he discovered a way of leading the prince to eat the cherries and
almonds?
GODLER.
Who acquired such a taste for these delicious fruits, that he wanted to
eat nothing else, had no wish to go away, had no inclination whatever
for study, no longer wished to reign--he wanted to marry. However, the
king, informed and satisfied on the subject, recalled his son. He must
go back to Bagdad. Daphnis wept, and Chloe also.
TREVELE.
You are king, you cry, and I depart.
GODLER.
And that is how the beautiful Lionnette came into the world; having for
legal father a Marquis de Quansas, a ruined gentleman, rather a bad
character, who turned up just at the right moment to lay his hand on a
marriage portion, give his name to the mother and daughter, and die a
short time after, without falling into the hands of the correctional
police, as every one expected to see him do.
TREVELE.
Then the countess is daughter of a prince?
GODLER.
Daughter of a king, even--for the prince succeeded his father.
TREVELE.
What a strange country!
GODLER.
Daughter of a king and of an adventuress; daughter herself of no one
knows who. From that comes, no doubt, the strangeness in the nature of
Lionnette, whom we, who know the circumstances, named, when she was very
young, the Princess of Bagdad. People never knew what it meant, but it
is useless for all the world to know what some things mean.
TREVELE.
And the mother, the Marchioness of Quansas, has she seen the king again
since that adventure?
GODLER.
Often, and for several years. Thence comes the great luxury and style of
the house. But she became so badly-conducted, and abused so much the
goodness of the king to her, that he--himself now become father of a
large family, as everything led to hope after his return from Paris,
and the marchioness no longer being young--lost all patience, and gave
no more money, except to his daughter, whom he adored, and whom he saw
in secret. But he died quite suddenly.
TREVELE.
I know whom you mean.
GODLER.
Then we both know it, that is sufficient. After the death of the king
all the resources disappeared. Fortunately, the love and marriage of our
friend John de Hun were found in the nick of time, to maintain for some
time the importance of the house; but at this moment I think the
downfall is not far off, and all these comings and goings of to-day may
very well be the last signs of it. All the legitimate ways are
exhausted; there remains nothing now but the others.
TREVELE.
Which are happily the most numerous. It costs too much for us, my poor
old Godler. For the present it is just the affair of the gloomy
millionaire: we shall see later on. There is nothing more to drink; they
have quite forgotten us. Put your comb in your pocket again, your lock
of hair is very well like that; now let us go away. A peculiar kind of a
house. Where is my hat?
(_While they both look for their hats, their backs turned to the bottom
of the room_, JOHN _enters, very pale, and visibly affected_.)