A COUNCIL OF WAR.
Could we remove the fronts from the imposing domiciles whose dignified
exteriors compel our admiring awe, we should often rub our eyes in
astonishment at the curious spectacle within. Than the outgoings and
incomings of the inhabitants of Lorge nothing could appear more
decorous and respectable, and yet as regarded a prospect of lasting
peace, that group was composed of the least promising elements.
On the day after the return from Paris Gabrielle remained in
seclusion, making no sign, while the others waited with more or less
impatience to see if she would throw down the gauntlet. Aglae could
scarce conceal her satisfaction at the warmness of her dear friend's
greeting. Clovis was genuinely delighted to see her and made no secret
of his joy, whereat the abbe was annoyed, though he knew better than
to betray the feeling. Time had not loosed the bonds wherein the
marquis was held by his affinity. On the contrary, absence had in his
case made the heart grow fonder, for he seemed now to have quite
forgotten the fear with which former admiration had been mingled. It
was rather hard, the abbe could not help considering, that his own
influence, for which he had laboured with such patience and dexterity,
should pale so easily before that of this lady, who for twelve months
had made no move. By summoning her to his aid, had he raised up a
spirit which by and by he would be powerless to lay? No. For the
attainment of an object that was now clearly modelled before his
sight, the assistance of Mademoiselle Brunelle was absolutely
necessary. The object attained, he would steal a march on her, and on
his brothers as well, if need were. Meanwhile, it was of the best
augury that the chatelaine should remain quiescent. It has been said
that the woman who hesitates is lost. Certain it is that one of the
nature of the marquise--of the class who seem specially made to endure
slings and arrows--does not gain strength by delay. She can in a
moment of impulse perform an act of energy; but if she waits and
broods her strength exhales itself in moans.
The marquis and his friend got out their books, made a grand parade of
being vastly busy--even dug out the blessed 'cello and groaned out an
affecting fugue; but expecting you know not what it is impossible to
keep the mind from wandering, and Aglae, try as she would to command
herself, jumped up at intervals and strode the polished floor with
statuesque arms crossed over the ample bosom, longing for something to
occur.
"No news is good news, believe me," the abbe whispered in caution, as
hour succeeded hour, and their patience began to ooze. "If she accepts
her position without a struggle, a most important point is gained."
Aglae sniffed fretfully, and passed her square-tipped fingers through
the masses of her blue-black hair. "That is mighty well," she said,
tartly; "but for the creature to take me back again so quietly, after
all that passed, makes me long to pinch, and beat, and slap anything
so deplorably spiritless. If she does not do something to-morrow, you
will have to lock me up, for I shall not be able to prevent myself
from rushing into her room and banging her head against the wall."
"No more blunders!" returned the abbe, sternly. "You have not the
skill to read her. Do not forget that it was by your wrong-headedness
and bungling that you brought about your own defeat. Remember the
terms of the agreement which was to bring you back among us. You were
to be guided by me absolutely, and abstain from silly little private
plots which could only prove disastrous to us both."
Mademoiselle was silent, and her heavy mobile brows shaped themselves
into something like a scowl. She bit her thick red lips and smiled an
engaging smile, as she patted the abbe with a fan, playfully. "Of
course, I will do as you bid," she said, "but you must not look so
cross. I am all gratitude for your many kindnesses and too glad of so
skilled a guide." Then as she turned away there were lines about her
mouth that were not pretty to look upon, and a sullen shade upon her
brow, that was gone again like a summer thunder-cloud.
The classically-modelled bosom of mademoiselle covered a black well of
bitterness. She loathed herself for having bungled; she hated
Gabrielle with an all-absorbing hate as the author of her
discomfiture; she detested the abbe for his domineering ways--and
Clovis for not having defended her. She hated all and everyone in that
she had accidentally been kept in the dark as to the real owner of the
fortune, whereby she had been betrayed into a pitfall.
As she was being ignominiously conducted to Blois, like a thief taken
in the act, a boiling geyser of venom had scalded her cheeks; and as
she writhed behind a lace handkerchief she registered a vow to be
avenged on Gabrielle some day a hundred-fold for that which she had
borne at her hands. The knowledge did not tend to appease her wrath
that without outside help she would be incapable of fulfilling the
vow. The devil will do much to assist his own, but his methods are not
artistically complete, and at a critical moment he whisks into space
with a grin, leaving his votaries to disaster. Hence it is not always
well to depend too much upon the devil. It is a fact worthy of remark
that in the legends of his many compacts with mankind it is always
assumed that he is honest in his dealings and a model of business-like
straightforwardness, while it is the insignificant mortal--mere
wax in such hands--who ultimately cheats and circumvents him. Surely
this is all wrong. We would not wish the devil to be inconsistent,
and it is in the fitness of things that his ardent worshippers should
find the ground slippery under foot, and the power in which they
trusted--nowhere.
Vainly she revolved the chances of ever returning to Lorge, when
suddenly arrived the abbe's first letter, which was quite sticky and
mawkish with honey. What was he driving at? He would not write thus
without an object. She smiled, locked away the missive, and waited.
Then came the second letter, wherein, to her surprise, she found the
gates open again which she feared were hermetically closed. Go back to
Lorge? Of course she would, with alacrity, and follow the abbe's
instructions, though she understood them not. She knew that the old
nuisance was defunct, that the marquise was in full possession. What
was this miracle which called her back to Paradise? It mattered not.
Her massive foot once more within the threshold, she would profit by
the experience of the past, and in the end come out the gainer.
Now you will perceive how odd a mixture was the ex-governess; a woman
who hung for awhile in the balance, till the devil inserted a toe and,
by its weight, settled the matter. She had genuinely liked the
marquis's children, and would, if circumstances so ordained, have gone
down to posterity as a typically virtuous second wife, but for that
devil's toe!
Well, the toe was inserted, and proved a heavy one, for down came the
scale with a thud. Perceiving they were a fruitful cause of danger,
she made up her mind without a qualm that she would avoid her quondam
pets in the future, and school herself to gaze with sphinx-like
stoniness on the twain whom she had kissed and cuddled.
What happened to them--one way or the other--was become a matter of
complete indifference. The black well seethed and boiled. She would
have revenge, somehow, and at the same time feather her nest.
Suspense lasted till the end of the second day. As the party--minus
the chatelaine--were sitting down to dinner, there appeared upon the
scene, Toinon, who demurely laid a note upon the marquis's plate, and
without a word retired.
As many weak people do, Clovis stared at the letter, longing to open
it, and yet loth to do so, knowing that its contents could scarcely be
agreeable, and it was not until the snorting and sniffing of the
affinity awoke him to a sense of responsibility, that he took it up
and broke the seal. The letter was exceedingly unpleasant and to the
purpose.
"Clovis, when I called upon my father to rid me of that woman, I
accomplished a sacred duty which cost me dear; for to inflict pain
upon another brings the like upon myself. That you should have forced
her on me again, was due, I am sure, to fear. I suspected before that
you were afraid of her, for what reason I could not guess. The gulf
between us is impassable, and as you brood over this fact and know
that you have dug it yourself, you will be filled some day with
unavailable remorse. The future appals me--I shudder at its
contemplation, wondering to what you may be goaded. The conduct of an
unscrupulous woman, who has all to gain, I can understand, but yours
remains a mystery. What a life! What a future! If at your age you can
be so easily fooled by a vulgar _intriguante_, what will become of you
when old? How singular a creation is man! You have oppressed,
humiliated, abandoned me who loved you for yourself with an ardour
that amazes me when I recall it now, and are content to grovel at the
feet of one who but likes you for what you can bestow--whom you will
know some day and despise.
"When your conscience forces you to see what you have done, seek not
to wreak vengeance upon me. Henceforth, we dwell apart, and your life
and mine have naught in common. You may go your ways on this condition
unmolested. Never speak to me, or to the children: never let any
member of your coterie invade the apartments I inhabit. The house is
large enough. Avoid a scandal. Farewell. To each other we are
henceforth dead.
"Gabrielle Marquise de Gange."
With twitching fingers the marquis passed the letter to the abbe who
read and passed it on to mademoiselle. It was not the sort of letter
that it would be nice to read aloud. Silence fell upon the group, and
by tacit consent all rose and went about their avocations, without
venturing to comment on the document.
The letter breathed dignity, and there was something fine about the
scathing words contemptuously flung at the foe. A vulgar
_intriguante_, indeed! Well, why deny that it was true, though the
statement was somewhat blunt? Mademoiselle always preferred to
consider herself the architect of her own fortunes.
On the morrow, the abbe, who, more disconcerted than he chose to
admit, by the decided action of the chatelaine, had sallied forth to
meditate in private, perceived that she had already taken steps to
isolate herself!
He found workmen busy in opening a doorway which should give access to
the children's wing from the bedroom of the marquise, and a locksmith
changing the lock of the postern which gave upon the garden moat.
So that pleasaunce was to be denied henceforth to the group which
composed the enemy? How would Clovis take this move? A scandal,
forsooth! Was she not causing one herself by so ostentatiously raising
barriers and employing workmen who would chatter? It was evidently her
intention to occupy the long saloon, the boudoir adjoining, the
bedroom that looked on the yard, and the children's wing, with the
moat garden for outdoor recreation, leaving the rest of the premises
to the family. If they were never to see or speak with her, how could
they prosecute their plans? The masters who doubtless would be
summoned from Blois to teach the young idea would certainly detect
something unusual, and they too would be sure to gossip. And what of
the servants? They were trustworthy enough, since they had for the
most part been engaged by the abbe himself, as representing the
Marquis de Gange, and Gabrielle had never thought of interfering. But
the best of servants have tongues, and when the neighbours should flit
over from Montbazon (which they were certain to do shortly) coachman
would confide in coachman, and lacquey in lacquey, and old Madame de
Vaux would hear all about it and spread the news like wildfire. All
Touraine would believe that the Marquise de Gange was a prisoner in
her own chateau; the mob who were fond of her would rise, and there
would be a pretty pother! What a pity she was not indeed a prisoner,
hedged round with subtle precautions such as the abbe could so readily
invent!
When he revolved this point, he sighed. No. That plan was not feasible
for many reasons, at least for the present. This was not the moment
for coercion but for wheedling. Yet, he reflected, it might be as
well, as chance arose, to complete the ring of servants. How very
provoking it was that things should run so agley! Mademoiselle,
instead of proving useful, seemed only likely to give rise to
complications. Her reappearance had already produced a disastrous
effect, for what was the use of setting her to manage the marquis's
conscience if his wife could retire out of reach? As matters stood, to
drag her thence by violence would never do, for shilly-shally Clovis
would turn restive. If only he could be induced to go away for a time
with his troublesome conscience to pay a visit to the prophet at
Spa--but there again arose a difficulty. His presence was necessary
here, for if that will was to be cancelled and another made, it was he
who ostensibly must manage it.
A council of war! determined Pharamond at last. Valuable time is being
wasted. We must combine and resolve upon a plan of campaign which must
be carried without flinching to the end.
Having arrived at this conclusion, he turned briskly round and went
with rapid steps in search of his allies.
Presently, mademoiselle, the chevalier, and the abbe found themselves
sitting round a table in the small sanctum the latter had made
his own--a cosy little chamber, panelled in dark oak with heavy
double-doors--and the host took up his parable and spake,
"Mademoiselle Brunelle is probably aware," he began, in his low sweet
voice, "that she was not summoned here for her charming society alone.
We have long known each other's views and wishes, and have arrived at
a consciousness that without mutual assistance our desires are
unattainable. Fortunately they do not clash; on the contrary, although
different, they run amicably side by side. So fortunate! It will be
best, will it not, if I review them?
"Mademoiselle Brunelle has developed a fancy to wear a coronet. The
said coronet would prove a paltry bauble unless handsomely gilt and
jewelled. The gold and jewels are unluckily in possession of a lady
who at present holds the coronet, and who has no intention of
resigning either the one or the other. She must be made to give up
both--how?"
There was a pause, during which the chevalier blinked uneasily. The
abbe had succeeded in drawing one brother at least well under his
thumb. Like a hound, poor sodden Phebus gazed constantly into the eyes
of Pharamond, seeking his orders there. There was a germ of an idea
within the breast of each, which none cared to drag into the light.
"Abbe," remarked mademoiselle, curtly. "As usual, you beat about the
bush. There is none to overhear. What you would suggest, state
plainly."
"Am I not plain enough?" laughed Pharamond, lightly.
"No," returned Aglae, drawing down her brows in thought. "You say that
our views run parallel. How can that be? You love that mawkish
creature, and, for my part, as I have said before, you may wear her
and welcome, though I don't admire your taste. I tried to assist you
in the past, but--well--my efforts were not successful. How can I help
you now, without injury to my own prospects? You are not so foolish as
to suppose that I would accept Clovis without a sou, nor am I so silly
as to imagine that you would take that chit without her fortune."
"Mademoiselle sketches a situation with such brief lucidity, that it
is a privilege to listen to her," replied Pharamond, with a tight
twitch of his thin lips, that was intended for a smile. "But as there
are blotches on the sun, so is not even she quite perfect. She forgets
that the world is ever rolling, and that as we roll with it our views
change and give place to others. She will remember, perhaps, that but
for me she would still be an angel without the gate, and grant that I
am not likely to employ the paw of one so clever, without sharing the
chestnuts which she rescues."
"A compromise, then?" said Aglae. "I am still completely in the dark."
"Because you start on a false premise, which was once true, but is so
no longer. With an engaging frankness, which claims my devoted
admiration, you admit that you do not care a straw for Clovis without
his coronet and a sufficiency of wealth. Well, I care not a jot more
for Gabrielle. She was misguided enough to flout my suit, to cover me
with lofty scorn, to tread me under foot. Am I a man, think you, to
forgive that? Not likely.
"If I could have my way, I would take her with me for a while, and
then fling her, soiled and broken, to the lowest of my lackeys! It
would be a sweet and complete vengeance, which, alas, prudence bids me
to forego." The abbe, as he considered the delightful possibilities of
such a vengeance, looked so wicked with his pallid face and grinding
teeth, and green eyes lighted from within, that the chevalier cowered,
and Aglae was a little uncomfortable.
Here was a revelation, and a clue to his labyrinthine mind. He had
come to dislike the unlucky marquise as much as she did, and the two
were to unite for her undoing. That was capital!
Gradually the green light paled, the white face flushed, and Pharamond
laughing lightly was himself again.
"How wise we are," he said, "to make full confession and keep no
secrets back! She has tied up her fortune, and must untie it, and then
we must take possession and divide. You and Clovis will take a half,
Phebus and I the other. There will be enough for all. Surely the
arrangement is a simple one."
Yes. Certain conditions arrived at, the rest was simple. That germ
down in the darkness was developing rapidly, and putting forth dark
slimy leaves like those of the deadly nightshade.
The three contemplated one another and kept silence, each thinking the
same thought.
Having been induced to revoke her will, the marquise must be put away.
But ere the treasure could be reached there were ramparts to be
scaled, wide ditches to be crossed. Could the obstacles ever be
surmounted? Some of them towered as high as virgin Alps.
The abbe proceeded to explain that the role of mademoiselle was to
skilfully bring the marquis to a fitting state of mind. She was to
find engrossing occupation for such intellect as he possessed, dazzle
his eyes with mystical gewgaws, increase by artful pricks his
exasperation against his wife, swaddle him with flattering attentions,
keep the wound green, yet wrap him in cotton wool.
Mademoiselle shook her head dubiously. Did she not remember the look
he gave her when she wished the wife to drown? He would never consent
to such strong measures, as might seem convenient to less qualmish
persons.
"Pooh!" retorted Pharamond. "Do I not know him? When a thing is
irrevocably done, he will be glad to benefit by the results. You must
keep him in play like a struggling fish, and when the time comes bring
him to land. With half a great fortune, and the removal of its
importunate owner, he would soon grow content."
"Half the fortune," mused Aglae, deep down within herself. "H'm! H'm!
Half the fortune! Why not the whole? Half-measures are not
satisfactory!"
END OF VOLUME II.
* * * * *
SIMMONS & BOTTEN, PRINTERS, LONDON. _G. C. & Co_.