GABRIELLE HAS AN IDEA.
Loth as she was to leave her benefactress in so critical a plight,
there was no denying that the Marquise de Gange was an incumbrance in
the royal dwelling; yet another helpless female for the men to
protect; and that there were duties with regard to others, that
demanded the attention of the heiress.
Clovis had valid reason for his impatience to be off. The prisons were
opening their maws to swallow the blue-blooded, who tumbled in by
shoals on frivolous and ridiculous charges. Paris was becoming so
disagreeably warm, that self-preservation bade all and sundry to
depart unless tied by special reasons. Now, as the abbe pointed out
(who grew almost as impatient as his brother, in his enforced
idleness), there was nothing whatever to detain the provincials from
returning to their chateau, since the queen had dismissed the
marquise.
Gabrielle agreed that the time was come for a journey, and even made
an attempt to induce the aged marechale to join the party. It would be
nice to have her mother with her, and perhaps the suburban residence
might be fraught with unknown drawbacks. But at the suggestion, the
old lady lifted up her voice in such querulous screechings that her
daughter was silenced.
"You should know, but for your innate selfishness," complained the old
dame, "that I can't bear the place. Its crepuscular corridors and
frowning front give me the shivers. I wonder you can endure it
yourself, but you always were so peculiar and inconsiderate. I will
visit you for a week or so some day, if I pluck up courage; but, live
there? The family vault with a pile of coffins for furniture, would be
more cheerful as a dwelling-place."
Then Gabrielle's mind went through a curious and unexpected phase. The
queen's reference to their horoscopes had set the marquise thinking.
The prophecy regarding her majesty was being fulfilled, slowly but
surely, to the letter. A friend informed her with grief and
lamentations, that Louise de Savoye, Princesse de Lamballe, had been
seized and confined at La Force. At this moment, the least secure
refuges in France were the prisons, for the blood-drunken populace had
a way of making raids upon the jails, and maltreating incarcerated
aristos, out of pure devilry. First, Her Majesty; then Madame de
Lamballe. Who was she, Marquise de Gange, that she should hope to
escape her doom? She was, like the others, predestined to misfortune.
True. She had suffered deeply already, and Heaven had relented for
awhile; but there was nothing to justify her in face of the prophecy,
in supposing that it was more than a respite. Try to grapple with it
as she would, Gabrielle, as the time for moving approached, was
oppressed by a growing presentiment of ill. From what quarter it was
to come she could not guess, but it was her bounden duty to take such
precautions as were possible. Were the darlings to be stricken down
and die? Or was the impending misfortune to consist in the sacking of
the chateau? It was impossible to foresee and avert the trouble. In
contrast to the storm that had blown over, the family outlook was fair
enough. Though the domestic sky was cloudflecked, there was no
specially black bank of vapour striding up the vault. Clovis was
bearish and ill-humoured. That was nothing new. The abbe was all
smiles and benevolence, his leisure much occupied in a laudable and
Christian endeavour to break the chevalier of tippling. Toinon wrote
that, summoned to Blois by his party, Jean Boulot was gone for awhile,
and for her part she rejoiced at the riddance, for was it not too bad
that he should prefer his vulgar noisy Jacobin clubs and fustian
nonsense to the charming society of his betrothed?
Strive as she would to argue with and laugh at herself, Gabrielle
could not shake off her gloom. The gamekeeper--who had saved her
life--was gone away to Blois, and Toinon hoped that he would stop
there? Why should she feel as if a staunch and trusty friend had left
her side? The chatelaine had every right to feel angry that a paid
servant should throw up his place with such scant ceremony, and yet
was not the abruptness of the act strictly in tune with the man's
independent principles and the spirit of the time?
He was a rough, honest, warm-hearted, wrong-headed fellow, with whom
Toinon was justly annoyed in that she had failed to reform his ways.
All this was true enough, but Gabrielle could not shake off a sense of
loneliness, of vague uneasy dread, a conviction of impending calamity;
and suddenly something whispered that before leaving Paris it would be
well to execute a testament.
History is full of strange presentiments which come like warnings, but
which have the peculiar property of defeating themselves; for they
exercise sometimes a fatal fascination akin to that of the snake over
the bird, which paralyses the victim's efforts to escape the
threatened peril.
Trying to argue down her fears, she made it the more evident to
herself that whatever came of it, duty pointed in the direction of
Lorge. The grim chateau was her own now; the fields were her own
fields; the peasants her own vassals. In the interests of the darlings
she would be very energetic, learn to farm, improve the property, and
draw the bonds closer than heretofore between mistress and tenants.
But what if the clever abbe's prognostications were to be realized,
and the flames which she had seen burning so fiercely in Paris, were
indeed to spread dismay and ruin even to remote Touraine? Was he right
in the advice which she had resented so warmly--the unwelcome advice
to be content with the money-bags at Geneva, and abandon the chateau
to the wreckers? No. She had always disapproved the craven conduct of
the fugitives. It was not in the nature of things for the present
cataclysm to go on for ever. Temporary insanity would give way to
reason; the mob, glutted by impunity and gorged by excess, would calm
down again, and those who had had presence of mind to hold their own
while passively bowing before the storm would reap the reward of their
bravery.
The chatelaine knew herself to be a favourite with the people and that
her presence at the chateau would go far in the event of a
revolutionary wave, to save it from destruction. She could not believe
that the shadow she felt approaching could come from that quarter.
Whence then? It was probably a bugaboo, born of nervousness, resulting
from sympathy with the desperate condition of the queen. Dismissed by
Marie Antoinette, her place was at Lorge on the estates, and since
flesh is grass, it was only right to make a will.
While revolving these things, Gabrielle's attention was naturally
turned upon her husband. It was odd that he should resent so deeply
her one act of independence. We know that what the constitutionally
weak resent the most, is being openly convicted of their weakness.
Could that humiliating quarter of an hour with the family solicitor
have left so deep an impression on his easy-going soul? and, while her
repulsed affection had faded into indifference, was his unconcern
growing into positive aversion? It occurred to her now for the first
time, as singular that when he wanted money of late the abbe had
always been the spokesman. Did he feel his dependent position so
acutely that he could not bring himself to mention the sordid subject,
or was it that he had come to dislike his wife so much, that he could
not bring himself to speak to her at all? She resolved to open her
mind to the abbe about it, for Clovis must be infatuated and purblind
indeed, not to feel assured that, though she was resolved to carry out
her father's wishes and keep a firm hold of the purse strings, they
would not be drawn too tight.
The abbe's thin features relaxed into a whimsical smile, and he slyly
nodded, as with some stammering and much circumlocution she exposed
her suspicions to him. Was it, or not, abominably wicked of her to
have such suspicions at all? How girlish and how lovely she looked in
her blushing confusion, as she enlarged on the unsavoury topic,
excusing herself for harbouring such thoughts.
"You dear guileless dove of a Gabrielle!" he laughed. "Yet not so
simple as you seem, for you have guessed aright. Alack, yes!
Unpardonably sensitive as he may appear to you, your little
escapade--you will allow me to call it an escapade?---cut him so
completely to the quick that he has never recovered it, but crouches
down and winces still like a well-whipped hound, dreading another
scourging. You deem yourself proud? Learn that an honest man's pride
is of more delicate texture than a woman's. And it _is_ hard, you
know, for a proud man to be placed before witnesses in so equivocal a
position as that in which you placed your husband."
The position in which _she_ had placed _him?_ What of the intolerable
one in which _he_ had chosen to place _her?_ Men always start with the
absurd premise that they must be in the right. Gabrielle was deeply
offended that one on whom she had vainly squandered all the treasures
of her love could think this meanly--read her so amiss!
Tears of mortification due to insulted womanhood were in her eyes, and
as he marked the colour, like that of an opening moss rose, that
flooded plastic neck and shell-like ear, the blood of Pharamond
throbbed so fiercely that he had much ado to maintain his impassible
demeanour.
"Since you forgave me, I take Heaven to witness," he purred, bending
as near to her as he dared, "that I have striven to heal your
differences."
"Differences? There need be none; my love for him is dead," Gabrielle
remarked slowly, so absorbed in the contemplation of shattered Penates
as to pass unheeded the gleam of triumph on the face that was so near
her shoulder. "You may tell him, if you like, that I shall not behave
ill to him, because he has outraged me. A fair allowance shall be
regularly paid to him, or to you if he prefers it. Monsieur Galland is
coming here this afternoon about my testament, and the arrangement
shall be carried out at once." Then after a gloomy pause, she added
with a sigh, "To think he could ever suppose that I should want him to
ask me favours!"
So her unrequited and too persistent love had perished of starvation!
It was dead--quite, quite dead, at last! With its last struggle how
great a barrier was swept away, and how much better was the chance for
one who had obstinately persevered!
Excellent! The empty shell was ready for the hermit crab! Pharamond
could see ultimate triumph, within measurable distance, and after that
a ripe revenge. A fair allowance regularly paid? Gilded, degrading
slavery! Clovis would repudiate the plan; refuse to have anything to
do with it.
But what was this about a will?
"M. Galland--about your will, this afternoon?" the abbe echoed with
raised brows. "On whose advice are you acting? I declare you are
marvellously changed, every inch a woman of business. Pooh, pooh! Is
there not ample time? For a beautiful young creature like yourself to
prate of such grisly things seems like an untimely invitation to the
worms."
"Little I care for life, God knows!" sighed Gabrielle, wearily, "were
it not for----"
"Yes, yes, I know--the cherubs. About this will. It takes me by
surprise, and you have deigned to trust me. Your pardon if I seem
importunate. I scarcely dare to ask, and yet----"
"What its conditions are to be? There need be no secret as to that,
since my mind is quite made up. I intend to leave my dear father's
fortune to my mother, in trust for Victor and Camille?"
Here was a sledge-hammer blow, full on the skull from behind. For an
instant Pharamond was paralysed, then his nimble brain took in at a
glance all the facets of this new and unpalatable situation. Who could
have put into her shapely head so inconvenient an idea as this? Good
heavens! If this project were not nipped in the bud, averted somehow,
the future position of the three brothers promised to be a worse one
even than in the days of the marechal! What the abbe had himself
looked upon as a scarcely possible contingency, and had held up to the
marquis as a mere red rag to inflame his feelings withal against his
wife, might at any moment become an actual and horrible fact. At this
rate the marquis and his brothers were not to be provided for at all;
were in the event of this woman's death to be pitched out like so much
lumber! And she had the brazen presumption to expatiate on their lot
to their faces. A gush of ungovernable rage, bubbled into the abbe's
brain, an unreasoning whirl, which he vainly endeavoured to master, as
he strode up and down the room.
"Clovis is to be made a laughing stock to suit your malice!" he
exclaimed hotly, as he turned on the astonished marquise. "He counts
for nothing, although your lawful husband. No wonder if you have
earned his hate as well as mine, since you are resolved to pour insult
upon insult."
"Of course, he will have his allowance secured until his death,"
Gabrielle explained, with a red spot of annoyance on either cheek.
"Pah! Allowance! Allowance! A pittance for a schoolboy, which he will
fling back into your face. If he takes my advice, he will toss your
paltry allowance in your lap, since you treat him like a baby! A dole
of charity to a beggar!"
The marquise sat dumb with hands before her, petrified, for this man
would fain persuade her that she was a monster of iniquity, on the
threshold of a stupendous crime, and yet she knew that her motives
were of the purest.
He continued, biting his nails in his agitation, addressing his words
half to himself and half to her.
"Women's horizon is so circumscribed, her stream of thought so narrow,
that if left alone she rarely avoids being ungenerous. Engrossed by
trivialities how can it be otherwise? Sly, too, and double-faced. So
this is your sublime forgiveness, in which I was fool enough to trust!
A trap! A trick! You were but biding your time, till you could injure
me by maltreatment of my brother. My first duty is to him, and I tell
you plainly, that never with my consent will he accept your ignoble
terms."
Gabrielle made no answer but sat dumb.
"Eh, bien, madame," he cried, suddenly wheeling round and standing in
front of her, his thin lips curled into a snarl. "The result of your
insensate acts be on your head. Mark that the fault is yours if, after
all my efforts to annihilate the past, you force me to be your enemy.
Here below we must be judged by acts, madame, not by sugared words
that mean nothing. Why compel me to war when I would fain bring peace?
If you execute so iniquitous an instrument as you propose, you will
have made thereby three implacable enemies; and a woman without
friends should think twice before making one. Your husband never
wronged you with that governess, you foolish girl; you were racked by
your own silly phantom jealousy. If you must have revenge, wreak it
upon me, whose only fault was loving you too much. No need to start.
Cards down! Why should I deny that I loved you? The more fool I! But
as your love for him has been crushed out, so, too, has mine for you,
as to your sorrow you will learn."
His envenomed words snapped out like the clicks of a matchlock, and
the old dismay gathered round the heart of the marquise with a chill
of exceeding desolation. She had been taken in. His seeming recovery
of his better self was but a sham, his fawning courtesy a grimace, his
suave kindliness a mockery, his effusive benevolence a snare. To one
so simply truthful as Gabrielle, such calculating duplicity was
diabolical. He had dropped his vizard and shown his real face, and as
she shudderingly surveyed it, she had gauged something of the malice
of which this foe was capable. Returned to Lorge, was peace to be
denied? Since cajolery and threats had not availed to win her, did he
think to bend her to his will by force? Though he declared he hated
her, there was that on his white vindictive face that she had learned
to read too well. She would go straight to her husband, tell him the
whole truth, and claim protection. But what then of the disposal of
her property, which she felt it her duty to make? Ought she, taking a
high line, to threaten to withdraw the allowance, act for herself as
the good father had done on her behalf? But, ah me, how changed things
were since then, so brief a while ago! Her husband already hated
her--there was a ring of sincerity in the voice of Pharamond as he
informed her that it was so, and she knew well, in case of a tussle,
into which scale the latter would throw all his weight. Doubtless,
Clovis wished her dead; alone at Lorge, might even--yet no, much as he
might wish to be quit of her, his courage would surely fail when the
pinch came.
In carrying out her project she would be acting rightly, of that she
was now more than ever convinced; but locked up with the brethren at
Lorge, would not her own courage fail? Perhaps it would be safer to
remain in the Paris whirlpool. But what of the children then, and what
of the prisons that filled so rapidly? Behind the bars and bolts of La
Force or the Abbaye, of what service could she be to them? Leave the
country she would not, stay in the capital she dared not. Moreover, in
so turbulent a time her place was among her people in her distant
citadel of Lorge.
All that was fine in theory, yet her heart whispered grave doubts as
to her tenacity of purpose in carrying out to the end the fight so
boldly planned. Alas, did she not know too well that standing alone
and unsupported, with no succour within hail, she would go down at the
shock of the first lance? Should she parley, even surrender now, at
once--unveil her feebleness and implore pity? Promise to abandon the
project which raised such ire and stirred the lees of the worst
passions, trust the future of her children to their father's paternal
instincts? No; one of the lessons taught by the abbe was that Clovis
was born to be led. Happily that woman had been expelled, but rescued
from her baleful control, he would fall under that of somebody else,
and circumstanced as they were, who should that other be but the
vindictive Pharamond? Of course, at Lorge, the marquis would sink
completely under the abbe's sway; and with him for master, much chance
would Victor and Camille have of justice in the event of their
mother's death. Come what might to her, they should be guarded. Taking
her courage in both hands and clinging firmly to it, she must pray for
strength to bear all, doing what was best for the little ones. The
best security against the greed and malevolence of Pharamond would be
to place the fortune out of reach.
As these considerations flitted across the mind of the harassed
marquise, she took comfort in the thought that the arch-foe should
have exposed himself as he was before the party had started from
Paris. Further precautions should be devised by a mother's ingenuity
such as should reduce to harmlessness, in the event of disaster to
herself, the abbe's strongest batteries.
Meanwhile, Pharamond mopped his face with a laced kerchief, blaming
himself for precipitation as he paced nervously up and down. That he,
skilful fowler of artless birds, should have been betrayed by sudden
passion and disappointment into exhibiting his person to this
flutterer! But then the blow had been so swift and heavy that there
was some excuse for reeling under the shock. It was vexatious to have
been taken off his guard. Further duplicity was useless now, for the
present, at least, for she was fully informed as to his sentiments
with regard to the obnoxious testament. She had beheld a glimpse of
his real countenance, which was a pity, for burrowing underground was
the favourite pastime of our abbe. It was a mercy, considering all
things, that the obdurate and recalcitrant lady had resolved on
returning to Lorge. Beyond the frontier, countenanced by friends and
acquaintances, she would doubtless have proved dreadfully
obstreperous. Yes, decidedly it was best to depart forthwith for the
chateau. It was a fortunate thing, too, that during the lengthy and
tedious sojourn in the metropolis, Clovis should have abstained from
falling into the clutches of some new and antagonistic affinity.
And this turned the current of his meditations into another channel.
It would have to be war now at Lorge, deliberate and serious war for
the averting of a threatened calamity; a campaign consisting of
feints, and ambuscades, and forced night marches requiring swiftness
of resolve and unerring execution. As to submitting to such a
testament, it was out of the question. The campaign might prove a
desperate and bloody one, for maternity at bay fights hard.
If she signed the proposed document--and just now she looked very
resolute--it would have, somehow or another, to be cancelled; a
ticklish job even for so astute a diplomatist as our abbe. Would it be
prudent to descend alone into the arena, or must an ally be found? But
for Clovis's tergiversation, Pharamond felt fully capable of carrying
a battle to successful issue, but he knew better than to deceive
himself with regard to the shifty marquis, and caution whispered that
he dared not work alone. His mere male influence might lead the horse
to the water, but could not make him drink. You may bend a bow with
impunity to a certain point, beyond which it will snap unless
strengthened. Desperate emergencies call for desperate remedies, and
Clovis' was one to shrink and run away in the face of anything
desperate. How difficult to guide clear of obstacles is a shying
horse!
Although a thousand pities, it was plain to Pharamond that what might
have to be done could not be accomplished alone; that combined forces
would be required to arrive at a given result, to reach a goal which
he gropingly saw looming.
What could Gabrielle be pondering over so deeply, as with absent gaze
she looked out of the window? Perhaps, alarmed, she was repenting, was
preparing at the first glimpse of the enemy's line of battle to
withdraw from the conflict. Her attitude was full of hesitation; here
was a crumb of comfort. It was wondrous that she should have been
able, so far, to subdue her nature as to speak out so boldly as she
had dared to do just now. A little solitary reflection might produce a
salutary effect. In a duel of wits, when your foe begins to hesitate,
leave him to his thoughts, and ten to one he will give way.
The abbe roused himself from reverie; coughed to draw attention, and
bowed with a measure of respect, nicely tempered with menace. Then,
smilingly remarking that it would be regrettable if his dear
sister-in-law did not reconsider her iniquitous plans, he took himself
out of the apartment for the purpose of informing Clovis.
Left alone, Gabrielle, as Pharamond had seen, was much perturbed by
the difficulties of the task she had set herself, but when she
remembered his wicked face, a courage, born of despair, came to her
aid, and she resolved to take up the cudgels. As she mechanically
arranged, with trembling fingers, her silken hood and mantle, she
prayed fervently for strength, and called on heaven for protection.
Without a moment's waiting she would go to M. Galland. The solicitor
had arranged to call during the afternoon, but she felt assured that
if she were to wait till then, she would think, and think, and think,
till courage ebbed away. Swiftly descending the stairs unseen by the
abbe, who was busily unfolding his budget for the horrified behoof of
his more than ever exasperated brother, she hailed a hackney chair,
and had herself carried to the lawyer's.
Being a person of eminent respectability, M. Galland dwelt in a smug
street within decorous propinquity of the fashionable Place Royale.
His line of business was as humdrum and respectable as himself, and
the door-keeper, who kept the stone staircase so scrupulously
spotless, was unaccustomed to agitated clients. The beautiful lady who
emerged from a hackney sedan, and tremulously paid the men more than a
double fare, was extremely agitated, and appeared in a desperate hurry
to reach the first-floor landing. Evidently an aristo. Doubtless she
had a husband or a brother who had fallen within the meshes of the
reigning spiders. Poor dear soul! Such episodes as unexpected arrest
were but too common nowadays. Bless me! Her case must be a very urgent
one, the concierge muttered, as he scratched his head in sympathy, for
after an interval of fifteen minutes, the lady emerged in the
company of M. Galland himself, looking graver than was his wont, who,
calling a coach, directed the driver to the nearest magistrate's.
"I understand my instructions, madame," the solicitor said, as the
pair were driven along. "But, if without breach of respect, I may be
permitted to say so, you must be suffering from hallucination. Your
will being safely deposited with me, it is manifest that its terms are
your safeguard, even if any of them should wish to harm you. We will
admit that M. le Marquis got into bad hands, and that your hours were
made unpleasant by another of your charming sex. But from that point
to personal violence is a great stride, and you must pardon me if I
fail to see any justifiable cause for apprehension. It is a morbid
fancy, believe me. However, your wishes shall be gratified, and you
will be able to retire to the chateau of Lorge with mind relieved.
This is the house. I follow you to the first floor. You will make the
declaration I suggested, before my friend, M. Sardeigne, who is a
magistrate, and proper witnesses."
It was certainly a strange proceeding and the worthy magistrate was
justified in his surprise. Here was a celebrated Court beauty of whose
fame he had often heard, who pretended to believe that her relatives
were hankering after her money to the extent of a deep-laid plot,
ending in personal injury. "If you say so, madame," he observed, with
a gallant bow, "I am bound to believe you. I should have thought it
more likely that someone would take to kidnapping, for the sake of
being proud possessor of the fairest woman in France."
Gabrielle sighed. Was not a would-be kidnapper at the bottom of all
her fears?
M. Galland produced the last will and testament of Gabrielle, Marquise
de Gange, on which the ink was but just dry, and his friend, having
summoned his secretary and two male attendants, the lady signed it in
their presence.
Then, instructed by M. Galland, she made a solemn declaration that if
her life should be cut off before that of the marechale, her mother,
and that if she should have been found in the interim to have executed
another will of more recent date, she thereby formally disavowed the
latter instrument. If she were destined to outlive the marechale,
which she did not think likely, M. Galland, on the demise of Madame de
Breze would visit Lorge, and another arrangement would be made.
She had a presentiment, she explained, which pointed to a life cut off
by violent means before its prime, and expressed in the most distinct
and emphatic manner words could express, her desire that the testament
just executed should alone be regarded as authentic.
"Dear me! A presentiment?" laughed M. Sardeigne, "as well consult with
lawyers about ghosts! To set your mind at rest in this peculiar
matter," proceeded the magistrate, perceiving that his mirth was
ill-timed, "let it be understood that a cross after the signature on
any subsequent testament will be considered to convey that it was
signed under coercion."
The business accomplished, Gabrielle breathed more freely, and the
abbe, observing at dinner how serene she looked, grew suspicious. Such
calm after their recent stormy interview, seemed to suggest that she
had been doing something underhand, on which she plumed herself. What
could it be? Something that boded him no good. In the imminent war,
which was to be declared so soon as the party were back in Touraine,
it would clearly be perilous and rash to take the field alone.[1]
----------------------------
Footnote 1: It must be remembered that the French law, as it at
present stands, dates from the later epoch of Napoleon. The events
connected with the will of the Marquise de Gange are historical. L. W.
----------------------------