THE SITUATION CHANGES.
Gabrielle's injunctions to Monsieur Galland were concise. The marechal
must not be told too much. The good solicitor must keep to himself her
worn and haggard aspect. Nor must he relate aught of the eloquent
meeting between the mother and her dear ones. The children looked on
her with a vague alarm as on one of whom they had learned to be
suspicious from hearing unpleasant things. He had been obliged to wipe
away another tear--it was a wonder that there remained so much liquid
in one so dry and shrunken--ere he stole from the room on tiptoe,
leaving the yearning heart to recover its lost sway.
And now began for Madame de Gange a lull of peace, and as her troubled
soul regained its equilibrium she marvelled that she should have been
patient for so long. The dear father's mandate had been a wand of
harlequin transforming with a touch the Cave of the Black Gnome into
the Calm Retreat of the Serene Spirit. For several months nothing
occurred that was of import to the recluses. By a seeming paradox, the
remnants of the affection she had once borne her husband being
destroyed, she found that she could get on better with him. There were
no more throes of jealousy, no irritating scenes, no midnight weepings
with the morning reproach of swollen eyelids--simply because she had
renounced a desire for the moon, as he had so often wished she might.
That he should shut himself up in his study and pore over the secrets
of science, avoiding his better half, was no longer a cause for grief;
she cared no more how this time was passed. Had she not got back the
stolen treasures in whose interest alone she prayed for a span of
life? For many weary months she had been bereaved, and it was an
intense delight--a dazzling peep into heaven--to have them once again
all to herself with no shadow to fall between. What a joy to mark how
the minds of Victor and Camille had expanded in the interval; how the
young plants had shot up, putting out fresh leaves of tender green and
fragrant blossoms of rich intelligence. The mother thanked God that,
search as anxiously as she might, she could find no trace of evil in
the children's minds. The singular specimen of womanhood, who happily
was gone for ever, had been a real mother to them, had tended them as
if they were her own, had packed in the little heads a store of
information that to Gabrielle was a source of awe. A very curious
mixture was Mademoiselle Brunelle. What she had herself remarked as to
the conflicting elements in the female bosom was more true than the
conclusion which followed. Whether the angel or the devil obtains
mastery does not always depend upon a man. In this case it depended on
a woman--Gabrielle. If she had been drowned, Aglae would, no doubt,
have been a model stepmother, and have done everything in her power
for the advantage of the young ones. It was her hatred of the
chatelaine, due to the misreading of her character, that had put the
thought into her head of hurting them in order to inflict pain on her.
Perhaps, it was no more than an idle threat to instil terror. When the
moment came she would perchance have held her hand and spared them.
Perhaps too rough a contact with the sharp edges of the jagged world
in early life had warped a nature that was intended to be genial. As
she considered these things the forgiving Gabrielle freely pardoned
her tormentor for the many stabs she had inflicted. Fear and horror
gave place to holy pity, and she resolved to use her influence to
procure for her another situation. With suitable surroundings she
might succeed in banishing the devil. Those surroundings she had not
found at Lorge. That short volume of its sinister history was closed,
and must never be re-opened. Whatever else might happen Mademoiselle
Aglae Brunelle must never revisit Lorge.
The magic wand of the old marechal had even produced an effect upon
the abbe. Either he had been frightened into good behaviour, or he had
been induced to smother his unholy passion and forego his campaign of
menaces. A few days after Aglae's defeat, during which time he had
been ostentatiously humble and obliging, he paid another visit to the
chatelaine in her boudoir. For a moment she held her breath. Was the
persecution to recommence? As he had never threatened harm to the dear
ones, she had spared him in her letter to her father. Must she again
cause him sorrow by seeking protection against her husband's brother?
No; heaven was very merciful, and had quite withdrawn its galling
hand. The abbe presented himself before her in a new light. His sweet
voice was pitched in its most melodious key. His intellectual visage
was scored with furrows of anxiety and contrition. He frankly
confessed his sins, and humbly craved forgiveness, while tears poured
down his cheeks.
"I was mad--driven quite out of myself by your marvellous beauty,
Gabrielle," he murmured, in broken accents. "Believe me if you can,
after the past, that I am not altogether bad. Forgiveness is a divine
attribute which will well become your angelic nature. Like him from
whom the unclean spirit was cast, I no longer shriek, and howl, and
tear my flesh, but am subdued, clothed, and in my right mind again. I
look upon my other self with horror, and praise God for the miracle
whereby I am saved. Pardon, Gabrielle; without it I shall never know
another instant's peace."
The marquise was much moved by the appeal. She had liked the man and
enjoyed his society until, as he explained, he had gone mad. Who was
she, who had erred in so many things--had even been so wicked as to
try to take her life--that she should punish one who repented?
He had muttered something about going away, removing from her path his
execrated presence; had even said with thrilling sadness that he
firmly purposed to seek the cloister, and commence a life of penance.
She, too, had once thought of the cloister. Indeed, it was upon that
hint that Pharamond was acting now; for, alas, alas, the astute one
was but playing a new role, preparing new foundations for his tumbled
house of cards.
It is grievous for the historian to relate that this brilliant son of
the Church was altogether heartless. He, who could prate so prettily
about forgiveness, had not a grain of pity in his composition. Can a
man love and hate at the same time? he had asked himself. No; but he
had mistaken a vile grovelling feeling born of ignoble sensuality for
love, and that feeling could run in harness in perfect accord side by
side with hatred. His beautiful sister-in-law had flouted him, had
foiled him, had, with sublime disdain, flung his threats in his face.
She had plainly shown him how high above his foul and leprous baseness
soared her own simple purity. We may be aware that we are grovelling
and vile, and deserve to be held up to the contempt of our fellows in
our native ugliness. We may know this, and may endure the knowledge
with equanimity, even cynically enjoy and relish it; but to have our
vileness tossed in our face by another is quite another thing. The
abbe was not one to be baffled and submit to the beating calmly. He
was more than ever steadfastly resolved some day to conquer; and being
endowed with indomitable patience, washed the slate with plodding care
in order to commence afresh.
As his craft had calculated, the marquise was too simple in her
goodness and too generous to bear malice. With feelings of intense
gratitude that the stony path should grow so smooth, she forgave the
suppliant freely, and even gently jested as to the proposed retreat.
No, no; he must wear his hair shirt at Gange, she said, and having
been granted full absolution, must, together with her, obliterate the
past. She explained that it was her intention to have masters from
Blois, frankly confessing that the education of the dear ones had
soared far beyond her reach. "They shall come twice a week," the
marquise explained, "and I will take lessons also. It will be
delightful for us all to help each other and prepare our various tasks
during the other days. You, Pharamond," she added cheerily, bent on
helping him to forget, "may be of the greatest service to us, for you
are clever and learned in books. You shall hold the post of assistant
usher and explain what we cannot understand. Leave us? Never! What
would Clovis do without you? I am afraid that you will have to study
Mesmer's doctrines, so that he may not miss that woman. I am resolved
that if it is essential to provide for him an affinity, that
mysterious object, in the future, shall be of the other sex."
The new foundations were progressing prosperously. Pharamond had never
contemplated abandoning the flesh-pots. Since the plan of an elopement
with the heiress was doomed to failure through the interference of the
dictatorial old marechal, they must all be content to stop where they
were, and, for the time being, dwell together. There was a lull in the
political situation, so emigration might not prove necessary. Within
the boundaries of France there was no safer refuge than Touraine.
Rustic effervescence was subsiding. News arrived from time to time of
massacres and burnings, but these were chiefly in the south, in
districts surrounding cities.
With grateful reverence and many eloquent protestations, the abbe
received the olive branch and set himself with alacrity to show how
exceedingly clean he was washed. He impressed on Victor and Camille
the angelic attributes of their mamma, strained every nerve to tighten
the bonds that had grown slack, laid stress on the fact that though
the beloved governess was, of course, one of the best of women, it was
necessary for their sakes to provide teachers more advanced than she.
The best side of the mercurial gentleman quite glittered with snowy
rectitude, and mother and children were agreed that no one could do
without the abbe.
A thorn in the flesh was the chevalier. A man who, too thirsty,
babbles in his cups, is provoking; but when he becomes maudlin and is
scarcely ever sober, he is a grievous trial to his comrades. Having
turned over the new leaf it was exasperating to Pharamond to be
constantly reminded of the old one at inconvenient seasons by a
hiccuping sot; to be implored between vinous sobs "to make her happy."
It was urgently necessary to take poor shaky Phebus in tow and treat
him with strict severity. Once or twice, in disgust, he thought of
getting rid of the sodden creature, and even mentioned the subject to
Clovis. But the latter would not hear of his banishment.
"Where should we send him to alone?" he asked. "He would get into
trouble and disgrace us. It was you who saddled us with him, so you
must help us to bear the burthen."
The abbe gave up the point without further discussion, for in dealing
with the weak it is wise to let them have their way in small matters
in order to get your own in large ones. Moreover, if kept under
surveillance, Phebus might be improved, and it is not well to throw
wilfully aside a man, however helpless, over whom we have obtained
complete ascendency.
Matters being arranged to his satisfaction so far, the astute and busy
one bestirred himself about the marquis. Now that she was gone, Clovis
had cause every hour, as she had foreseen, to regret Aglae. Who so
ingenious as she in disentangling knotty problems; who so clear of
head in deciphering a theorem? Without her help, what was the use of
the tub, or its precious contents? The evenings were interminable to
him without his favourite music. The blessed violoncello reposed now
in its box, for grunting on it all alone brought melancholy instead of
solace to the musician. Before the cannon ball fell, neophyte and
affinity had been concerting plans for removing the tub from a
benighted neighbourhood to some more congenial sphere. Its blessings
were wasted on rustic swine. Clovis longed to escape from the scene of
his humiliation; burned to turn his back on Lorge; but there was a new
and galling dread within, which kept him tongue-tied: a fear, that if
he took too much upon himself the douche of an evil precedent would be
turned on again; that the odious old rascal in Paris would warn him to
obey his wife.
If you are ill-advised enough to espouse an heiress, you are pretty
sure, sooner or later, to have her money flung in your face. Gabrielle
had been so full of delicate tact with regard to the dangerous point,
that Clovis had never been troubled about it until urgency had
impelled de Breze to twist the screw, and under the wrench he
continued to wince and writhe. Calm and dreamy as he was, he had never
overtly done anything to vex his wife--had drifted, and then been
towed into troubled waters, whose turbidness, now that attention was
called to them, was a matter for surprise. He had struggled in his
feeble way with conscience, and, the governess assisting, had
succeeded in lulling it to rest; and it was very distressing to his
vanity that the sleeper should be so roughly wakened. Is it not always
humiliating to be treated like a peccant school-boy?
I regret to state that the abbe, when in conference with the marquis,
adroitly added to the chafing, by covert scratches and the insertion
of little pins. "To a man of spirit," he would remark, deprecatingly,
"it is painful to be led by the nose; none the less so, when the
holder of the tongs happens to be the one whose duty is obedience." On
such occasions, Clovis would turn to his brother with puzzled
wrinklings of the brow that were piteous and yet ludicrous. "What am I
to do?" he would groan. "The situation, as you say, is horrible; but I
don't see a way out of the difficulty." Then the abbe would tap his
shoulder and murmur, sighing, "Poor fellow. I pity you with all my
being, but for all our sakes must exhort you to be civil to madame.
Her wish is law to her papa. If she chose to ask the old scamp to
eject us into the road, what else could we do but go?"
Thus it will be seen that Gabrielle's sanguine expressions of
gratitude were somewhat premature. The disease of an importunate love
for her spouse had submitted to surgical treatment, which was an
advantageous change for both; but she guessed nothing of the Nessus
shirt, that under the fine linen excoriated the tender skin of the
lymphatic sensualist, or dreamed of the effect on his tissues of the
abbe's little pins.
Affairs stood thus, when the marquis's _bete noire_ appeared again to
stir the wound in his vanity which never ceased to fester. Actually,
under the spring sunshine, the dusty berline was again visible,
crawling down the road with its load of dust, and M. Galland peering
from the window. Clovis shot at his wife a look of angry suspicion,
but did not fail to mark by her face, that this time the apparition
was unexpected. He could see plainly that if there was to be another
screw turn, it was not at her instance or suggestion. So much was
evident, and the hot and hasty words which rose died upon his lips.
The old rascal had determined to do something disagreeable on his own
account. What?
M. Galland, sphynx-like as usual, bowed to the assembled company with
respectful deference; but the marquise turned faint, foreboding some
fresh sorrow. The calm eyes of the solicitor rested on her with deep
compassion; for she was looking so much better, that it was a grievous
thing to be bearer of evil tidings. For fear of distressing his
idolized child, the marechal had strictly forbidden her mother to
alarm her in the weekly bulletins. She was not informed that the old
gentleman's malady had grown on him, that he grew worse instead of
better, and it came now upon her like an avalanche, that she would
never see him more.
The Marechal de Breze was dead; had died blessing his daughter. It was
necessary for his heiress to proceed instantly to Paris, to comfort
her distracted mother and attend to business of import.
The irruption of the new cannon ball affected the party of listeners
differently. Gabrielle, overwhelmed with grief, retired to pray in her
chamber. Oh! Why had she not been more patient--more brave--less
selfish! She had inflicted her own troubles on the good father when he
was sick, perchance had been the innocent cause of precipitating his
demise. Why not have continued the loving deceit, whereby she had
veiled her wounds so long from him?
That wicked woman had only played upon her terrors, she was now
convinced of it; would never have carried out her threats. Now that it
was too late, Gabrielle perceived with abortive beatings of the breast
and idle wringings of the hands, that she had acted wrongly. By
playing the craven, she had killed her father! Had she been possessed
of a grain of independent courage, instead of seeking succour from
without, she would have marched like a steadfast heroine straight into
her husband's presence--have detailed her grievances and claimed her
rights, and with her own bow and spear, have driven the enemy away.
Alas! She was made to cling and not to fight. In her desolation she
prayed long and earnestly ere tears came to her relief. Vainly Toinon
upbraided her, declaring that such thoughts were morbid, whilst
hastily packing for the journey.
To Clovis, the unexpected news brought ineffable relief. Just as he
had learnt to believe himself saddled with a demon, who would be
constantly driving spurs into his flanks. Lo! The incubus vanished
into air! The old rascal could no longer threaten. His hand was
stilled. His voice was dumb for ever. From that quarter there would be
no more humiliation; he would not be bidden to obey his wife.
The abbe was so taken aback, that his nimble mind wandered in a maze
of possibilities, ere it settled down seriously to consider the
effects of the change. The protector of the marquise was gone--her
only protector--for Madame la Marechale was a colourless, somewhat
weak-minded lady, who need not be considered at all. The newly-laid
foundations of the house of cards were just what they should be, but
as circumstances alter cases, new plans must be drawn for the
structure. How true is it that the unexpected is always happening to
disarrange the most elaborate schemes. The first thing was to go to
Paris, there to learn what dispositions had been made by the deceased
as to his property. It was highly improbable that the marshal should
have placed confidence in his unpractical consort. Was everything left
to Gabrielle? Probably. The abbe was content with his survey. By the
death of de Breze, the situation was totally altered. He, Pharamond,
must by skilful management, lead the marquise to lean more and more on
him. Influence must be exerted, too, over the marquis, who in sudden
freedom from irksome restraint might be impelled to do something
imprudent. Yes, the horizon was rosy--clouds of difficulty were
rolling away. Holding in his supple fingers both the husband and the
wife, and exercising due dominion over the bibulous chevalier, it
would be curious if, by and by, the abbe did not attain his ends.