DIAMONDS AND EMERALDS.
"I wish you would go, Maurice. Do, for my sake!" pleaded Bertha,
twisting in her slender fingers a note of invitation. "The Marquis de
Fleury was one of the first persons who called upon my uncle, and he
made a very favorable impression. Then Madame de Fleury has nearly
crushed me beneath an avalanche of sweet civilities. I fancy that a
humming-bird drowned in honey must experience sensations very similar to
mine in her presence. Is it not the Chinese who serve as the greatest of
delicacies a lump of ice rolled in hot pastry? The condiment with which
she feeds my vanity reminds me of this singular and paradoxical dainty.
If you penetrate the warm, sugared, outer crust, you find ice within.
But, as my uncle does not anticipate Chinese diet at the table of the
marchioness, he desires me to accept her invitation; and, as you are
invited, I wish _you_ to do the same, that I may have some familiar face
near me."
"Gaston de Bois will be there," returned Maurice, "and so will the young
American student, Ronald Walton, whom I presented to you; they are my
dearest friends; pray let them represent me, little cousin."
But Bertha was obstinate; her character had a strong tincture of
wilfulness, the result of invariably having her pleasure consulted, and
always obtaining her own way. She did not relinquish her entreaties
until Maurice, who had not lived long enough to be skilled in the art of
successfully denying the petition of a person who will take no refusal,
or of plucking the waspish sting out of a "no," consented to be present
at the dinner.
The Marquis de Fleury had learned, through his secretary, that
Mademoiselle Merrivale and her guardian were in Paris. Though the
matrimonial proposition of the marchioness on behalf of her brother, the
Duke de Montauban, had been so unfavorably received by Bertha's
relatives in Brittany, and though Bertha herself, when she met the duke
at the Château de Tremazan, had treated him somewhat coldly, the young
duke was too much enamored of the fair girl herself,--to say nothing of
a tender leaning towards her attractive fortune,--to be discouraged by a
passing rebuff. His relatives hailed the anticipated opportunity of
making the acquaintance of Bertha's guardian, and were prompt in paying
their devoirs. An invitation to dine followed quickly on the footsteps
of the visit.
We pass over the days that preceded the one appointed for the dinner
party; they were unmarked by incidents which demand to be recorded.
The bond of intimacy between Ronald and Maurice was drawn closer and
closer each day. Little by little the latter had communicated the
history of his own trials; his father's determined opposition to his
embracing a professional career; his attachment to Madeleine; her
unaccountable rejection of his hand; her sudden disappearance, and the
mad pursuit, which terminated by casting him insensible at Ronald's
door, and brought to his succor one who not only watched beside him with
all the devotion of a brother, mingled with the tenderness of womanhood
itself, but whose buoyant, healthy tone of mind had infused new hope and
vigor into a broken, despondent, prostrate spirit.
Ronald Walton was placed in an advantageous position in Paris by the
very fact of being an American. His intellect, talents, manners, person,
fitted him to grace the most refined society; and, coming from a land
where distinctions of rank are not arbitrarily governed by the accident
of birth, but where men are assigned their positions in the social scale
through a juster, higher, more liberal verdict, the young Carolinian
gained facile admission into the most exclusive circles abroad, and even
took precedence of individuals who made as loud a boast of noble blood
and hereditary titles as though the concentrated virtues of all their
ancestors had been transmitted to them through these dubious mediums.
Ronald, as the intimate friend of Maurice de Gramont, had received an
invitation to the dinner given by the Marchioness de Fleury to the
relatives of the viscount.
The young men entered Madame de Fleury's drawing-room together, and,
after having basked for a few seconds in smiles of meridian radiance,
and been inundated by a flood of softly syllabled words, moved away to
let the beams of their sunny hostess fall upon new-comers.
Maurice glanced around the room in search of his cousin.
"She has just entered the antechamber," said Ronald, comprehending his
look. "Her Hebe-like face this minute flashed upon me."
While he was speaking, Bertha and her uncle were announced, and advanced
toward their hostess.
The low genuflection of the marchioness had been responded to by
Bertha's unstudied courtesy, and the lips of the young girl had just
parted to speak, when she suddenly gave a violent start, and uttered a
cry as sharp and involuntary as though she had trodden upon some
piercing instrument. As she tottered back, her dilated eyes were fixed
upon Madame de Fleury in blank amazement.
"What is it, my dear? Are you ill?" asked her uncle with deep concern.
Bertha did not reply, but still gazed at the marchioness, or rather her
eyes ran over the lady's toilet, and she clung to her uncle's arm as
though unable to support herself.
"I am afraid you really are ill," continued the Marquis de Merrivale.
"Something has disagreed with you; it must have been the truffles with
which that pheasant we had for _déjeuner_ was stuffed. I toyed with them
very timidly myself."
"Pray sit down, my dear Mademoiselle de Merrivale," said Madame de
Fleury, leading her to a chair which stood near. "Sit down while I order
you a glass of water."
She turned to address a servant, but Bertha stretched out her hand,
almost as though she feared to lose sight of her. "Don't go! Don't go!
Let me look! Can they be hers? Let me look again!"
Madame de Fleury, as unruffled as though these broken exclamations were
perfectly natural and comprehensible, bent over Bertha caressingly,
laying the tips of her delicately gloved fingers on her shoulder. Bertha
wistfully examined the bracelet on the lady's arm, then fixed her eyes
upon the necklace, brooch, and ear-rings, and lastly upon the tiara-like
comb, about which the hair of the marchioness was arranged in a
dexterous and novel manner.
Madame de Fleury was gratified, without being moved by the faintest
surprise that her toilet had produced such an overpowering sensation.
Bertha's emotion did not appear to her in the least misplaced or
exaggerated.
"You admire this set of diamonds and emeralds very much, then?" she
asked, complacently.
"The _fleur-de-lis_ and shamrock," faltered Bertha, "where--where did
they come from?"
Interpreting the unceremonious abruptness and singularity of the
question into a spontaneous tribute paid to her costly ornaments, the
marchioness graciously answered,--
"This _parure_ was a delicate attention from M. de Fleury. Not long
after he presented these diamonds to me, by a very strange coincidence
Vignon sent this dress for my approval. You observe how dexterously the
device of the necklace is imitated. Can anything be more perfect than
these lilies and shamrock leaves?"
Bertha hastily glanced at the rich white silk robe, trimmed with
_revers_ of pale violet, upon which the lilies and shamrock were
embroidered with some species of lustrous thread, which counterfeited
not only the design but the sparkle of the gems. The marchioness went
on,--
"Was it not odd that Vignon, famed as she is for novelties, should have
chanced upon a dress which so exactly matched my new set? It quite makes
me a convert to the science of animal magnetism. My mind, you see, was
_en rapport_ with hers. Indeed she says so herself, for she could not
otherwise explain the sudden inspiration which caused her to plan this
trimming. M. de Fleury wanted me to have these jewels set anew; but I
would not allow them to be touched,--this old-fashioned setting is so
remarkable, so unique. Probably there is not another like it to be found
in Paris: _that_ is always vantage ground gained over one's
jewel-wearing adversaries."
The marchioness, once launched upon her favorite stream of talk, would
have sailed on interminably, had not the announcement of new guests
floated her upon another current.
"I hope the spasms are going over, my dear," said the Marquis de
Merrivale, who was really distressed by Bertha's supposed illness. "It
was very clever to divert observation by talking about dresses and
jewels; but the truffles did the mischief. I knew well enough what was
the matter with you."
"No--no; it was those jewels," replied Bertha, who had not yet recovered
her self-possession. "Those diamonds and emeralds were Madeleine's!"
"Madeleine's!" ejaculated Maurice, who had approached her on witnessing
her unaccountable agitation. "Good heavens! is it possible?"
"Yes, they were Madeleine's,--they were her mother's jewels and had been
in her family for generations. Madeleine showed them to me only a few
nights before she left the Château de Gramont. I am sure of them. I
would have recognized them anywhere."
"Then at last--at last, oh thank God--we shall trace her! She must have
sold those jewels for her support. We must learn from whence Madame de
Fleury purchased them," returned Maurice, with a voice trembling with
exultation.
"Madame de Fleury said they were a _cadeau_ from the marquis," replied
Bertha. "Come, let us find him,--let us ask him at once."
Bertha rose with animation and took her uncle's arm.
"Where are you going, my dear? Pray do not excite yourself again,"
pleaded her solicitous guardian. "Pray keep cool. Dinner must shortly be
served, and you will not be in a fit state to do justice to the
sumptuous repast which I have no doubt awaits us,--some of those novel
inventions, perhaps, which you were so anxious to taste. I see people
are not scrupulously punctual in Paris,--it is ten minutes after the
time. Possibly we are waiting for some guest who has not sufficient good
taste to remember that viands may be overdone through his culpability."
"I must speak to M. de Fleury," said Bertha. "Let us get nearer to him,
that I may seize the first opportunity when he ceases talking to that
pompous-looking old gentleman who has the left breast of his coat
covered with decorations."
"Well, well, take it quietly--keep cool--don't get your blood into a
ferment,--that's all I ask."
Her uncle led her across the room, accompanied by Maurice.
Diplomat and courtier were inscribed on every line of the wrinkled
countenance of the Marquis de Fleury. He never took a step, or gave a
look, or scarcely drew a breath, by which he had not some object to
accomplish, some interest to promote. An oppressive suavity of manner,
an exaggerated politeness encased him in an impenetrable armor, and
prevented the real man from ever being reached beneath this smooth
surface. Impulses he had none. The slightest motions of his wiry frame
were studied. When he walked, he slid along as though he could not be
guilty of so positive an action as that of planting his feet firmly upon
what might prove "delicate ground." When he bowed, a contraction of
sinews worthy of an _acrobat_ allowed his head to obtain an unnatural
inclination, suggestive of a complimentary deference which humbled
itself to the dust and kissed the garment's hem. Straightforwardness in
word, thought, or action was to him as incomprehensible as it was
impossible. He was a great general, ever standing on the political or
social battle-field; skilful manoeuvres were the glory of his
existence, and flattery the magical weapon never laid aside by which he
gained his victories.
Madame de Fleury was thirty years his junior. He had purposely selected
a young, pretty, harmless, well-dressed doll, as the being best suited
to further his ends in the great world. He admired her sincerely. She
reached the exact mental stature and standard which he looked upon as
perfection in womanhood, and her absolute despotism in ruling the modes
and creeds of the _beau monde_ were to him the highest proof of her
superiority over the rest of her sex.
Though he was engaged in a conversation with the emperor's grand
chamberlain, which seemed deeply interesting to both parties, M. de
Fleury broke off instantly when Bertha, with her uncle and Maurice,
approached.
"You are so radiant to night, Mademoiselle de Merrivale," remarked the
courtier, "that all eyes are fixed upon you. It is cruel of you to
dazzle the vision of so many admirers!"
Bertha, without paying the slightest attention to these fulsome words,
replied, "Will you pardon me, M. de Fleury, if I ask an impertinent
question?"
"How could any question from such sovereign lips become other than a
condescension? The queen of beauty commands in advance a reply to the
most difficult problem which she can propound."
Bertha, with an impatient toss of her head, as though the buzz of this
nonsensical verbiage stung her ears, plunged at once into the subject.
"That set of diamonds and emeralds which Madame de Fleury wears to-night
were presented to her by you. Will you have the goodness to tell me from
whence you procured them?"
For M. de Fleury to have given a direct answer, even in relation to such
an apparent trifle, would have been contrary to his nature; besides, it
was one of his rules not to impart information without learning for what
object it was sought.
"You admire them?" he replied, evasively. "I am delighted, I am charmed
with your approval of my taste. I shall think more highly of it forever
after. The setting of the jewels is old-fashioned; but Madame de Fleury
found it so novel that I could not prevail upon her to have it
modernized."
"But you have not told me how the jewels came into your possession."
"Oh, very naturally, very naturally, lovely lady! They were not a fairy
gift; they became mine by the very prosaic transaction of purchase."
Maurice could restrain himself no longer.
"My cousin is particularly desirous of learning through what source you
obtained them. She has an important reason for her inquiry."
This explanation only placed the marquis more upon his guard.
"Ah, your captivating cousin thinks they look as though they had a
history? Yes, yes; jewels of that kind generally have. Does the design
strike you as remarkable, Mademoiselle de Merrivale?"
"Very remarkable,--and I have seen it before. I could not forget it. I
wished to know"--
Dinner was announced at that moment, and the Duke de Montauban came
forward and offered his arm to Bertha.
M. de Fleury, with lavish apologies for the interruption of a
conversation which he pronounced delightful, begged the Marquis de
Merrivale to give his arm to Madame de Fleury, named to Maurice a young
lady whom he would have the goodness to conduct, glided about the room
to give similar instructions to other gentlemen, and, selecting an
elderly lady, who was evidently a person of distinction, led the way to
the dining-room.
Maurice stood still, looking perplexed and abstracted, and quite
forgetting that he had any ceremonious duty to perform. Ronald, who from
the time he had watched beside the viscount's sick-bed had not
relinquished his friendly _surveillance_, noticed his absence of mind,
and, as he passed him, whispered,--
"My dear fellow, what is the matter? You are dreaming again. Rouse
yourself! Some young lady must be waiting for your arm."
"Ronald," exclaimed Maurice, "something very singular has happened.
Madame de Fleury is wearing Madeleine's family jewels!"
"Bravo! That is cheering news, indeed! You will certainly be able to
trace her now,--never fear! But you must get through this dinner first;
so pray collect your scattered senses as expeditiously as possible."
Elated by these words of encouragement, and the hilarious tone in which
they were uttered, Maurice shook off his musing mood, and proffered his
arm to the niece of Madame de Fleury, whom he now remembered that the
marquis had desired him to conduct.
During the dinner this young lady pronounced the handsome cavalier, who
had been assigned to her, tantalizingly _distrait_, and secretly wished
that the artistic _maître d'hôtel_ of her aunt had decorated the table
with a less novel and attractive central ornament; for it seemed to her
that the eyes of Maurice were constantly turned upon the miniature
cherry-tree, of forced hot-house growth, that rose from a mossy mound
in the centre of the festive board. The diminutive tree was covered with
superb fruit, and girdled in by a circle of Liliputian grape-vines, each
separate vine trained upon a golden rod, and heavily laden with luscious
grapes, bunches of the clearest amber alternating with the deepest
purple and richest crimson. Among the mosses of the mound were scattered
the rarest products of the most opposite seasons; those of the present
season being too natural to pamper the artificial tastes of luxury.
Truly, the arrangement was a charming exemplification of nature made
subservient to art; but was it this magnet to which the eyes of Maurice
were so irresistibly attracted? He chanced to be seated where his view
of the hostess was partially intercepted by the hot-house wonder, and he
was seeking in vain to catch a glimpse of those jewels which had been
Madeleine's.
Bertha was placed nearer the marchioness, and the Duke de Montauban
could not help noticing that her gaze was frequently fixed upon his
sister; but being one of those men who are thoroughly convinced that
what the French term "_chiffons_" is the most important interest of a
woman's life, he consoled himself with the reflection that Mademoiselle
de Merrivale was deeply engrossed by a contemplation of Madame de
Fleury's elaborate toilet, and that her absent manner had this very
feminine, reasonable, and altogether to be tolerated apology.
When Madame de Fleury and her guests swept back into the drawing-room,
Monsieur de Fleury and the grand chamberlain were again closely engaged
in some political battle. Maurice, after waiting impatiently for a
favorable moment when he might come between the wordy belligerents,
whispered to Ronald,--
"I am tortured to death! I shall never get an opportunity to ask the
marquis about those jewels. My cousin was questioning him on the subject
when dinner was announced; but he seemed to treat her inquiries as of so
little importance that she was quite baffled in obtaining information."
"Why not attack him in a straightforward manner?" answered the positive
young American. "Walk up to him and ask plainly for a few moments'
private conversation. Give him the reason of your inquiries, and demand
an answer. Bring him to the point without any fancy fencing about the
subject."
"I fear it will look very strange," replied Maurice, hesitating.
"What matter? Are you afraid of _looking strange_ when you have a worthy
object to accomplish? The information you need is of more importance
than mere looks. It thoroughly amazes me to see the awe in which a
genuine Parisian is held by the dread of appearing singular! One would
imagine that all originality was felony, and that to catch the same
key-note of voice, to move with the exact motion, and tread in the
precise footprints in which every one else speaks, moves, walks, was the
only evidence of honesty. What is a man's individuality worth, if it is
to be trodden out in the treadmill tramp of senseless conventionality?"
Maurice glanced at his friend admiringly. He had observed on more than
one occasion that although Ronald was thoroughly versed in all the
nicest rules of etiquette, he had a way of breaking through them at his
pleasure, and always so gracefully that his waiving of ceremony could
never be set down to ignorance or ill-breeding.
The viscount literally, and without delay, followed his friend's advice,
and soon succeeded in drawing M. de Fleury aside.
"Permit me to explain to you Mademoiselle de Merrivale's anxiety about
those jewels," said Maurice. "You have, perhaps, heard the name of
Mademoiselle Madeleine de Gramont, my cousin on my father's side. Some
six weeks ago she suddenly left the Château de Gramont, and has not
communicated with her family since. Those jewels were hers. She must
have sold them. We are exceedingly anxious to discover her present
residence and induce her to return to my grandmother's protection. If
you could inform me from whence the jewels came, it would facilitate my
search."
The marquis had no definite motive for concealment beyond the dictates
of his habitual caution. This explanation satisfied him in regard to the
reasons which prompted inquiry; and being desirous of getting rid of
Maurice, and of resuming the conversation he had interrupted, replied,
with an assumption of cordiality,--
"It gives me great pleasure to be the medium of rendering the slightest
service to your illustrious family. Those diamonds were brought to me by
the Jew Henriques, from whom I now and then make purchases. I did not
inquire in what manner they came into his possession; but, not intending
to be cheated as to their precise worth, I had them taken to Kramer, in
the Rue Neuve St. Augustin, and a value placed upon them. I paid
Henriques the price those trustworthy jewellers suggested, instead of
the exorbitant one he demanded. This is all the information I am able to
afford you on the subject."
"May I beg you to favor me with the address of this Henriques?"
"Certainly, certainly, with pleasure; but I warn you that you will not
get much out of him. He is the closest Israelite imaginable; and a
golden ointment is the only '_open sesame_' to his lips."
M. de Fleury wrote Henriques' street and number on his card, and handed
it to Maurice.
Meantime Gaston de Bois, in spite of the pertinacious attentions of the
Duke de Montauban, had approached Bertha, and would have drawn her into
conversation had she not exultingly communicated to him the discovery
she had made concerning Madeleine's jewels. Was it the sudden mention of
that name which threw M. de Bois into a state of almost uncontrollable
agitation? Why did he flush, and stammer, and try to change the subject,
and, stumbling with suppressed groans over his words, as though they had
been sharp rocks, talk such unmitigated nonsense? Why did he so soon
steal away from Bertha's side? Why did he not approach her again for the
rest of the evening? Could it be that her first suspicion was right, and
that he loved Madeleine? If not, why should her name again have caused
him such unaccountable emotion?