THE COUSINS.
Bertha's prediction was verified, and the whole château was thrown into
confusion by preparations for the coming of the young viscount. Old
Baptiste forsook his garden-tools for the whole day, to play in-door
domestic. Gustave, who daily doubled his _rôle_ of coachman with that of
_valet_, slighted his beloved horses (horses whose mothers and
grandmothers had supplied the de Gramont stables from time immemorial)
to cleanse windows, brighten mirrors, and polish dingy furniture.
Bettina, the antiquated _femme de chambre_ of the countess, who also
discharged the combined duties of housekeeper and housemaid, flew about
with a bustling activity that could hardly have been expected from her
years and infirmities. Elize, the cook, made far more elaborate
preparations for the coming of the young viscount than she would have
deemed necessary for the dinner to be given to her master's guests. This
band of venerable domestics had all been servants of the family before
the viscount's birth, and he was not only an idol among them, but
seemed, in a manner, to appertain to them all.
The countess, alone, did not find the movement of gladness around her
contagious. The coming of Maurice before the departure of Madeleine,
distressed her deeply; but small troubles and great were incongruously
mingled in her mind, for, while she was tormented by the frustration of
her plans, she fretted almost as heartily over that set of Sêvres
porcelain which, with the addition of her grandson, would not be
sufficient for the expected guests, even if Madeleine dined in her own
chamber. Besides, the arrival of Maurice made _that_ arrangement out of
the question. He would certainly oppose her banishment, just as Bertha
had done; and the day, unfortunately, was Madeleine's birthday. This
circumstance would give her cousins additional ground for insisting upon
her presence at the festive board. The countess saw no escape from her
domestic difficulties, and was thoroughly out of humor.
Before Madeleine had awoke that morning, Bertha had stolen to her
bedside and clasped the bracelet upon her arm. Light as was Bertha's
touch, it aroused the sleeper, and she greeted her birthday token with
unfeigned gratitude and delight. But Madeleine had few moments to spend
in contemplation of the precious gift. She dressed rapidly, then
hastened away to make the château bright with flowers, to complete
various preparations for the toilet of her aunt, to perform numerous
offices which might be termed menial; but she entered upon her work with
so much zest, she executed each task with such consummate skill, she
took so much interest in the employment of the moment, that no labor
seemed either tedious or debasing.
Maurice de Gramont had just completed his twenty-first year when he
graduated with high honor at the University of France. After passing a
fatiguing examination, he had gladly consented to act upon his father's
suggestion, and devote a few weeks to enjoyment in the gay metropolis.
The count had no clew to the cause of his sudden return to Brittany.
"Aunt, aunt! There is the carriage,--he is coming!--Baptiste, run and
open the gate!" cried Bertha, whose quick eyes had caught sight of a
coach which stopped at the farther end of a long avenue of noble trees,
leading to the château.
Baptiste made all the speed which his aged limbs allowed; Gustave
hastened to throw open the front door; Bertha was on the porch before
the carriage drew up; the count and countess appeared at the entrance
just as Maurice sprang down the steps of the lumbering vehicle.
His blue eyes sparkled with genuine joy, and his countenance glowed with
animation, as he embraced his grandmother warmly, kissed his father,
according to French custom, then turning to Bertha, clasped her extended
hands and touched either cheek lightly with his lips. She received the
cousinly salutation without any evidence of displeasure or any token of
confusion.
As the maiden and youth stood side by side, they might easily have been
mistaken for brother and sister. The same florid coloring was remarkable
in the countenances of both, save that the tints were a few shades
deeper on the visage of Maurice. His eyes were of a darker blue; his
glossy hair was tinged with chestnut, while Bertha's shone with
unmingled gold; but, like Bertha's, his recreant locks had a strong
tendency to curl, and lay in rich clusters upon his brow, distressing
him by a propensity which he deemed effeminate. His mouth was as ripely
red as hers, but somewhat larger, firmer, and less bland in its
character. His eyebrows, too, were more darkly traced, supplying a want
only too obvious in her countenance. The resemblance, however,
disappeared in the forehead and classic nose, for the brow of Maurice
was broad and high, and the nose prominent, though finely shaped.
His form was manly without being strikingly tall. It was what might be
designated as a noble figure; but the term owed its appropriateness
partly to his refined and graceful bearing.
"My dear father, I am so glad to see you!--grandmother, it is refreshing
to find you looking as though you bade defiance to time;--and you, my
little cousin, how much you have improved! How lovely you have grown! A
year does a great deal for one's appearance."
"Yours, for instance," replied Bertha, saucily. "Well, there was
abundant room for improvement."
Maurice replied to her vivacious remark with a laugh of assent, and,
looking eagerly around, asked, "Where is Madeleine?"
"Madeleine is busy as usual," answered Bertha. "I warrant she is in some
remote corner of the château, mysteriously employed. She does not know
that you have arrived."
"And is she well? My father never once mentioned her in his letters. And
has she kept you company in growing so much handsomer during the last
year?"
"_Her_ beauty needed no heightening!" exclaimed Bertha, affectionately.
"But she develops new talents every day; she sings more delightfully
than ever; and lately she has commenced drawing from nature with the
most wonderful ease. You should see the flowers she first creates with
her pencil and then copies with her needle! I really think her needle
can paint almost as dexterously as the brush of any other artist."
The count exchanged a look with his mother, and whispered, "Do stop
her!"
The latter turned quickly to her grandson, and said, "Are you and Bertha
determined to spend the morning out of doors? Come, let us go in."
As they entered the drawing-room, the countess pointed to a seat beside
her.
"Maurice, leave your chattering little cousin, and sit down and give us
some account of yourself. What have you been doing? How have you been
passing your time?"
Maurice obeyed; Bertha placed herself on the other side of her aunt; the
count took a chair opposite.
"Behold a most attentive and appreciating audience!" cried Bertha. "Now,
Mr. Collegian and Traveller,--hero of the hour!--most noble
representative of the house of de Gramont! hold forth! Let us hear how
you have been occupying your valuable time."
"In the first place, I have been studying tolerably hard, little cousin.
It seems very improbable, does it not? The midnight oil has not yet
paled my cheeks to the sickly and interesting hue that belongs to a
student. Still the proof is that I have passed my examination
triumphantly. I will show you my prizes by and by, and they will speak
for themselves. Next, I have joined a debating society of young students
who are preparing to become lawyers. Our meetings have afforded me
infinite pleasure. At our last reunion, I undertook to plead a cause,
and achieved a wonderful success. I had no idea that language would flow
so readily from my lips. I was astonished at my own thoughts, and the
facility with which I formed them into words, and they say I made a
capital argument. I received the most enthusiastic congratulations, and
my associates, in pressing my hand, addressed me, not as the Viscount de
Gramont, but as the _able orator_. I really think that I could make an
orator, and that I have sufficient talent to become a lawyer."
"A lawyer!" exclaimed the countess with supreme disdain. "What could
introduce such a vulgar idea into your head? A lawyer! There is really
something startling, something positively appalling in the vagaries of
the rising generation! A lawyer! what an idea!"
"It is something more than an _idea_, my dear grandmother: it is a
project which I have formed, and which I cherish very seriously,"
replied Maurice.
"A project,--a project! I like projects. Let us hear your sublime
project, Mr. Advocate," cried Bertha.
"The project is simply to test the abilities which I am presumptuous
enough to believe I have discovered in myself, and to study for the bar.
My father wrote me that he intended to become a director in a railway
company, and descanted upon the advantage of embarking in the
enterprise. He also confided to me, for the first time, the real state
of our affairs,--in a word, the empty condition of our treasury. Why
should my father occupy himself with business matters and I live in
idleness? Once more, I repeat, I am convinced I have sufficient ability
to make a position at the bar, and with my father's consent, and yours,
grandmother, I propose to commence my law studies at once."
"A pettifogger! impossible! I, for one, will never countenance a step so
humiliating! It is not to be thought of!" replied his grandmother, in a
tone of decision.
"No, Maurice, your project is futile," responded his father. "My joining
this railroad association is quite a different matter. I shall in
reality have nothing to do. It is only my name that is required;
besides, America is so far off that nobody in Brittany will be aware of
my connection with the company. Your becoming a lawyer would be a public
matter. I cannot recall the name of a single nobleman in the whole list
of barristers"--
"So much the better for me! My title may, _in this solitary instance_,
prove of service to me. It may help to bring me clients. People will be
enchanted to be defended by a viscount."
"You conjure up a picture that is absolutely revolting!" cried the
countess, warmly. "_My grandson_ pleading to defend the rabble!"
"Why not, if the rabble should happen to stand in need of defence?"
"Why not?--because you should ignore their very existence! What have you
and they in common?"
Maurice was about to reply somewhat emphatically, but noticing his
grandmother's knitted brow, and his father's troubled expression, he
checked himself.
The countess added, with an air of determination that forbade
discussion, "Maurice, you will never obtain my consent, never!"
"But if I may not study for the bar, what am I to do?" asked the young
man with spirit.
"Do?" questioned the countess, proudly. "What have the de Gramonts done
for centuries past? Do nothing!"
"_Nothing?_ Thank you, grandmother, for your estimate of my capacities
and of the sluggish manner in which my blood courses through my veins.
Doing _nothing_ was all very well in dead-alive, by-gone days, but it
does not suit the present age of activity and progress. In our time
everything that has heart and spirit feels that labor is a law of life.
Some men till the earth, some cultivate the minds of their fellow-men,
some guard their country's soil by fighting our battles; that is, some
vocations enable us to live, some teach us how to live, and some render
it glorious to die. Now, instead of adopting any of these pursuits, I
only wish to"--
"To become a manufacturer of fine phrases, a vender of words!" replied
the countess, disdainfully.
"An advantageous merchandise," answered Maurice,--"one which it costs
nothing, to manufacture but which may be sold dear."
"Sold? You shock me more and more! Never has one who bore the name of de
Gramont earned money!" replied the countess, with increased _hauteur_.
"Very true, and very unfortunate! We are now feeling the ill effects of
the idleness of our ancestors. It is time that the new generation should
reform their bad system," replied Maurice.
"Maurice"--began his father.
"My dear father, let me speak upon this subject, for I have it greatly
at heart. I have an iron constitution, buoyant spirits, a tolerably good
head, a tolerably large heart, an ample stock of imagination, an
unstinted amount of energy, and an admiration for genius; now, all these
gifts--mind, heart, imagination, spirit, energy--cry out for
action,--ask to vindicate their right to existence,--need to find vent!
_That_ is one ground upon which I plant my intention to become a lawyer.
Another is that a man of my temperament, liberal views, and tendencies
to extravagance, also needs to have the command of means"--
"Have we ever restricted you, Maurice?" asked his father, reproachfully.
"No, it is only yourselves you have restricted. But do you suppose I am
willing to expend what has been saved through your economy? Until lately
I never knew the actual state of our finances. Now I see the necessity
for exertion, that I may be enabled to live as my tastes and habits
prompt."
"That you may obtain by making an advantageous marriage," remarked the
countess, forgetting at the moment that Bertha was present.
"What! owe my privileges, my luxuries, my very position, to my wife?
Never! Every manly and independent impulse within me rises in arms
against such a suggestion; while the emotion I experienced when I felt I
could become something _of myself_,--that I had talents which I could
employ,--that I had a future before me,--renown to win,--great deeds to
achieve,--filled me with a strange joy hitherto unknown. I tell you, my
father, there is a force and fire in my spirit that must have some
outlet,--must leap into action,--_must_ and _will_!"
"It shall find an outlet," replied the countess, "without making you a
hired declaimer of fine words,--a paid champion of the low mob. Let us
hear no more of this absurd lawyer project. The matter is settled: you
will never have your father's consent, nor mine."
"Then I warn you," exclaimed Maurice, starting up, and speaking almost
fiercely. "You will drive me into evil courses. I shall fall into all
manner of vices for the sake of excitement. If I cannot have occupation,
I must have amusement, I shall run in debt, I may gamble, I may become
dissipated, I may commit offences against good taste and good morals,
which will degrade me in reality; and all because you have nipped a
pure intention in the bud. The root that bore it is too vigorous not to
blossom out anew, and the chances are that it will bring forth some less
creditable fruit. You will see! I do not jest; I know what is in me!"
"Content! we will run the risk!" replied the countess, trying to speak
cheerfully.
The grave manner of Maurice and his impressive tone, as he stood before
her with an air half-threatening, half-prophetic, made her experience a
sensation of vague discomfort.
"We will trust you, for you are a de Gramont, and cannot commit a
dishonorable action. Now, pray, go to your room and make your toilet. We
are expecting guests to dinner."
Maurice turned away without uttering another word, without even heeding
the hand which Bertha stretched in sympathy towards him; and, with a
clouded brow and slow steps, ascended to his own apartment.