IN THE RUE DE CHAILLOT.
We will precede, by some hours, M. Badinot, who had gone in haste to
the Viscount de Saint Remy. This last mentioned person lived in the
Rue de Chaillot, occupying a charming little house in this solitary
quarter, very near the Champs Elysees, the most fashionable promenade
in Paris. It is useless to enumerate the advantages which M. de Saint
Remy derived from a position so wisely chosen. We will only say, a
person could enter his house very secretly, through a little
garden-door, which opened on a small and very lonesome street.
In fine, by a miraculous chance, one of the finest horticultural
establishments in Paris had also, in this out-of-the-way passage, an
exit not much used. The mysterious visitors of Saint Remy, in case of
a surprise or unlooked-for renconter, were armed with a pretext
perfectly plausible and rural for having adventured in the lane. They
went (they might say) to choose rare flowers at a celebrated florist's
renowned for the beauty of his conservatories. These visitors,
besides, would only have told half a falsehood; the viscount, with
distinguished taste, had a charming green-house, which extended, in
part, along the little street we have spoken of; the little door
opened into this delicious winter garden, which reached a boudoir
situated on the ground-floor of the house.
Madame de Lucenay had demanded a key of this little door. The interior
of the mansion of Saint Remy presented a singular appearance; it was
divided into two establishments--the ground-floor, where he received
ladies; the first story, where he received gentlemen to dinner and
play: in fine, those he called his friends.
Thus, on the ground-floor was a room which shone with gold, mirrors,
flowers, silks, and lace; a small music-room, where were a harp and
pianos (Saint Remy was an excellent musician), a cabinet of pictures
and curiosities the boudoir communicating with the green-house, a
dining-room, a bathing-room, and a small library. It is useless to say
that all these rooms, furnished with exquisite taste, had for
ornaments some Watteaus but little known, some Bouchers unheard of,
groups of statuary in biscuit; and on their stands of jasper, a few
valuable copies, in white marble, of some of the finest groups of the
"Musee." Joined to this, in summer, for perspective, the deep shade of
a verdant green; quiet, loaded with flowers, peopled with birds,
watered by a little brook of living water, which, before it spreads
itself over the short grass, falls from a black and rustic rock,
shining like a ribbon of silver gauze, and is lost in a pearly wave,
in a limpid basin, where two fine swans show their graceful forms.
And when night came, calm and serene, how much shade, how much
perfume, what silence in sweet-scented groves, whose thick foliage
served as a canopy to the rustic sofas made of reeds and Indian mats.
In the winter, on the contrary, except the glass which opened into the
conservatory, all was closed; the transparent silk of the blinds, the
heavy mass of lace and muslin curtains, rendered the light still more
mysterious; on every disposable place large masses of exotics seemed
to spring out of vases glittering with gold and enamel.
Such was the viscount. At Athens he would have been, doubtless,
admired, exalted, deified, as the equal of Aleibiades; at the time of
which we speak, the viscount was nothing more than an unworthy forger,
a miserable cheat.
The first story had an entirely different appearance, altogether
masculine. There was nothing coquettish, nothing feminine; the
furniture was of a style simple and serene; for ornaments, fire-arms,
pictures of race-horses, which had earned for the viscount a good
number of gold and silver vases, placed on the tables; the
_tabogie_ (smoking-room) and the saloon for play joined a
lively-looking dining-room, where eight persons (the number always
strictly limited when it was a question of a choice meal) had often
appreciated the excellence of the cook, and the not less excellent merit
of the cellar, before commencing with him some games of whist for five
or six hundred louis, or to rattle the noisy dice box.
The apartments being thus thrown open to the reader, he will now
please to follow us to more familiar regions, to enter the carriage
court, and mount the little staircase which leads to the very
comfortable room of Edward Patterson, chief of the stables.
This illustrious coachman had invited to breakfast M. Boyer,
confidential valet de chambre of the viscount. A very pretty English
servant-girl having retired, after having brought in a silver teapot,
our two gentlemen were left alone.
Edward was about forty years of age; never did a more skillful or
fatter coachman cause his seat to groan under a rotundity more
imposing, nor to ornament with a powdered wig a face more rubicund,
nor to collect more elegantly, in his left hand, the quadruple ribbons
of a four-in-hand; as good a judge of horses as Tattersall of London,
having been, in his youth, as good a trainer as the celebrated elder
Chifney, the viscount had found in Edward a rare thing, an excellent
coachman and a man very capable of directing the training of some
race-horses which he had had for wagers. Edward, when he did not
display his sumptuous brown and silver livery on the emblazoned
hammer-cloth of his seat, looked very much like an honest English
farmer; it is under this guise we now shall present him to our
readers, adding, that in his broad and red face one could easily
perceive the diabolical and unmerciful cunning of a horse-jockey.
M. Boyer, his guest, the confidential valet, was a tall, slender man,
with gray hair, rather bald, and with a sly, cool, discreet, and
reserved expression; he used very choice language, had polite, easy
manners, rather literary, political opinions of the Conservative
stamp, and could creditably play his part of first violin in a quartet
of amateurs; at short intervals he took, with the best grace in the
world, a pinch of snuff from a golden box mounted with fine pearls,
after which he brushed negligently, with the back of his hand, the
folds of his fine linen shirt, quite as fine as that of his master.
"Do you know, my dear Edward," said Boyer, "that your servant, Betty,
makes quite a supportable plain cook?"
"She is a good girl," said Edward, who spoke French perfectly, "and I
shall take her with me if I should decide on housekeeping; and on this
subject, since we are here alone, my dear Boyer, let us talk business;
you understand it very well."
"Why, yes, a little," said Boyer, modestly, and taking a pinch of
snuff. "That is learned so naturally, when one occupies himself with
the affairs of others."
"I have then, very important advice to ask of you; it is on this
account that I begged the favor of your company to a cup of tea this
morning."
"Quite at your service, my dear Edward."
"You know that besides the race-horses, I had a contract with my lord
for the complete maintenance of his stables, cattle, and people; that
is to say, eight horses and five or six grooms and jockeys, for the
sum of twenty-four thousand francs a year, my wages included."
"It was reasonable."
"During four years, my lord punctually paid me; but about the middle
of last year he said to me, 'Patterson, I owe you about twenty-four
thousand francs; how much do you estimate, at the lowest price, my
horses and vehicles?' 'My lord, the eight horses would not sell for
less than three thousand francs each, one with the other, and then
they would be given away' (and it is true, Boyer, for the phaeton pair
cost five hundred guineas), 'that would make twenty-four thousand
francs for the horses. As to the carriages, there are four, say twelve
thousand francs, which, in all, would make thirty-six thousand
francs.' 'Well,' answered my lord, 'buy them all from me at this
price, on condition that, for the twelve thousand francs remaining
after your claim is paid, you will keep and leave at my disposition,
horses, servants and carriages for six months.'"
"And you wisely agreed to the bargain? It was a golden affair."
"Certainly it was; in two weeks the six months will have expired, and
I enter into possession."
"Nothing can be plainer. The papers were drawn up by M. Badinot,
the viscount's agent. In what have you need of my advice?"
"What ought I to do? Sell the establishment on account of my lord's
departure (and it will sell well), or shall I set up as a horse-dealer,
with my stable, which will make a fine beginning? What do you advise?"
"I advise you to do what I shall do myself."
"How?"
"I am in the same position that you are."
"How?"
"My lord detests details. When I came here I had, through economy, and
by inheritance, some sixty thousand francs. I paid the expenses of the
house, as you did the stables. About the same time that you did, I
found myself in advance some twenty thousand francs; and for those who
furnished the supplies, some sixty thousand. Then the viscount
proposed to me, as he did to you, to reimburse myself by buying of him
the furniture of the house, comprising the plate--which is fine--the
pictures, and so on, the whole estimated at the very lowest price, one
hundred and forty thousand francs. There were eighty thousand francs
to pay; with the remainder I engaged, as long as it lasted, to defray
the expenses of the table, servants, and so forth, and for nothing
else: it was a condition of the bargain."
"Because that on these expenses you would gain something more."
"Necessarily; for I have made arrangements with those who furnish the
supplies that I will not pay until after the sale," said Boyer, taking
a huge pinch of snuff, "so that at the end of this month--"
"The furniture is yours, as the horses and carriages are mine."
"Evidently. My lord has gained by this, to live as he always liked to
live, to the last moment--as a tip-top don--in the very teeth of his
creditors, for furniture, silver, horses, vehicles, all had been paid
for at his coming of age, and had become my property and yours."
"Then my lord is ruined?"
"In five years."
"And how much did he inherit?"
"Only a poor little million, cash down," said M. Boyer, quite
disdainfully, taking another pinch of snuff. "Add to this million
about two hundred thousand francs of debts, it is passable. It is
then, to tell you, my dear Edward, that I have had an idea of letting
this house, admirably furnished as it is, to some English people. Some
of your compatriots would have paid well for it."
"Without doubt. Why do you not do it?"
"Yes, but I fancy things are risky, so I have decided to sell. My lord
is so well known as a connoisseur, that everything would bring a
double price, so that I should realize a round sum. Do as I shall,
Edward; realize, realize, and do not adventure your earnings in
speculations. You chief coachman of the Viscount de Saint Remy! It
will be, who can get you. Only yesterday some one spoke to me of a
minor just of age, a cousin of the Duchess de Lucenay, young Duke de
Montbrison, arrived from Italy with his tutor, and about seeing life.
Two hundred and fifty thousand livres income, in good land; and just
entering into life--twenty years old. All the illusions of confidence--all
the infatuation of expense--prodigal as a prince. I know the
intendant. I can tell you this in confidence: he has already nearly
agreed with me as first valet de chambre. He countenances me, the
flat!" And M. Boyer shrugged his shoulders again, having recourse to
his snuff-box.
"You hope to foist him out?"
"Rather! he is imbecile or impertinent. He puts me there as if he had
no fear of me! Before two months are over I shall be in his place."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand livres income!" said Edward,
reflecting, "and a young man. It is a good seat."
"I will tell you what there is to do. I will speak for you to my
protector," said M. Boyer, ironically. "Enter there--it is a fortune
which has roots, to which one can hang on for a long time. Not this
miserable million of the viscount's--a real snowball--one ray of
Parisian sun, and all is over. I saw here that I should only be a bird
of passage: it is a pity, for this house does us honor; and up to the
last moment, I will serve my lord with the respect and esteem which
are his due."
"My dear Boyer, I thank you, and accept your proposition; but suppose
I was to propose to the young duke this stable? It is all ready; it is
known and admired by all Paris."
"Exactly so; you might make a mint."
"But why do you not propose this house to him, so admirably furnished?
What can he find better?"
"Edward, you are a man of mind; it does not surprise me, but you give
me an excellent idea. We must address ourselves to my lord, he is so
good a master that he would not refuse to speak for us to the young
duke. He can tell him that, leaving for the Legation of Gerolstein,
where he is an _attache_, he wishes to dispose of his whole
establishment. Let us see: one hundred and sixty thousand francs for
the house, all furnished, plate and pictures; fifty thousand francs
for the stables and carriages; that makes two hundred and thirty
thousand to two hundred and forty thousand francs. It is an excellent
affair for a young man who wants everything. He would spend three
times this amount before he could get anything half so elegant and
select together as this establishment; for it must be acknowledged,
Edward, there is no one can equal my lord in knowing how to live."
"And horses!"
"And good cheer! Godefroi, his cook, leaves here a hundred times
better than when he came. My lord has given him excellent counsels--
has enormously refined him."
"Besides, they say my lord is such a good player."
"Admirable! Gaining large sums with even more indifference than he
loses; and yet I have never seen any one lose more gallantly."
"What is he going to do now?"
"Set out for Germany, in a good traveling carriage, with seven or
eight thousand francs, which he knows how to get. Oh! I feel no
embarrassment about my lord: he is one who always falls on his feet,
as they say."
"And he has no more money to inherit?"
"None; for his father has only a small competency."
"His father?"
"Certainly."
"My lord's father is not dead?"
"He was not about five or six months since. We wrote to him for some
family papers."
"But he never comes here?"
"For a good reason. These fifteen years he has lived in the country,
at Angers."
"But my lord never goes to see him?"
"His father?"
"Yes."
"Never, never--not he!"
"Have they quarreled?"
"What I am going to tell you is no secret, for I had it from the
confidential agent of the Prince de Noirmont."
"The father of Madame de Lucenay?" said Edward, with a cunning and
significant look, of which Boyer, faithful to his habits of reserve
and discretion, took no notice, but resumed, coldly:
"The Duchess de Lucenay is the daughter of the Prince de Noirmont; the
father of my lord was intimately connected with the prince. The
duchess was then very young, and Saint Remy the elder treated her as
familiarly as if she had been his own child. Notwithstanding his sixty
years, he is a man of iron character, courageous as a lion, and of a
probity that I shall permit myself to designate as marvelous. He
possessed almost nothing, and had married, from love, the mother of
the viscount, a young person rather rich, who brought a million, at
the christening of which we have just had the honor to assist," and
Boyer made a low bow. Edward did the same.
"The marriage was very happy until the moment when my lord's father
found, as was said, by chance, some devilish letters, which proved
evidently that, during an absence, some three or four years after his
marriage, his wife had had a tender weakness for a certain Polish
count."
"That often happens to the Poles. When I lived with the Marquis de
Senneval, Madame the Marchioness--_une enragee_--"
Boyer interrupted his companion. "You should know, my dear Edward, the
alliances of our great families before you speak, otherwise you
reserve for yourself cruel mistakes."
"How?"
"The Marchioness of Senneval is the sister of the Duke of Montbrison,
where you desire to engage."
"Oh!--the devil!"
"Judge of the effect if you had spoken of her in this manner before
the envious or detractors: you would not have remained twenty-four
hours in the house."
"It is true, Boyer. I will try to know the alliances."
"I resume. The father of my lord discovered, then, after twelve or
fifteen years of a marriage until then happy, that he had reason to
complain of a Polish count. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the
viscount was born nine months after his father, or rather, Saint Remy
had returned from this fatal journey, so that he could not be certain
whether it was his child or not. Nevertheless, the count separated at
once from his wife, not wishing to touch a sou of the fortune she had
brought him, and retired to the country, with about eighty thousand
francs which he possessed; but you shall see the rancor of this
diabolical character. Although the outrage was dated back fifteen
years when he discovered it, yet he set off, accompanied by M. de
Fermont, one of his relations, in pursuit of the Pole, and found him
at Venice, after having sought for him in almost all the cities of
Europe."
"What an obstinate!"
"A devilish rancor, I tell you, my dear Edward! At Venice, a terrible
duel was fought, in which the Pole was killed. All was done fairly;
but, my lord's father showed, they say, such ferocious joy at seeing
the Pole mortally wounded, that his relation, M. de Fermont, was
obliged to drag him away; the count wishing to see, as he said, his
enemy expire under his eyes."
"What a man! what a man!"
"The count returned to Paris, went to the house of his wife, announced
to her that he had just returned from killing the Pole, and left her.
Since then, he has never seen her nor his son, but has lived at
Angers, like a real 'wehr-wolf' as they say, with what remains of his
eighty thousand francs, well curtailed, as you may suppose, by his
race after this Pole. At Angers he sees no one, except the wife and
daughter of his relation, M. de Fermont, who has been dead for some
years. And, besides, it would seem as if this was an unfortunate
family, for the brother of Madame de Fermont blew his brains out a few
weeks since, it is said."
"And the viscount's mother?"
"He lost her a long time since. It is on that account that my lord, on
his coming of age, has enjoyed the fortune of his mother. So you
plainly see, my dear Edward, that as regards inheritance, my lord has
nothing, or almost nothing, to expect from his father."
"Who besides must detest him?"
"He would never see him after the fatal discovery, persuaded that he
is the son of the Pole."
The conversation of the two personages was interrupted by a footman of
gigantic size, carefully powdered, although it was hardly eleven
o'clock.
"His lordship has rung twice," said the giant.
Boyer appeared distressed at this neglect; he arose precipitately, and
followed the servant with as much eagerness and respect as if he had
not been the proprietor of the mansion of his master.