THE MARRIAGE.
After four hours' walk the chevalier and the buccaneer arrived close to
Devil's Cliff. The road was so difficult and so much incumbered that the
two companions could scarcely converse. Croustillac became more
thoughtful the nearer his approach to the dwelling of Blue Beard; in
spite of the good opinion he had of himself, in spite of his consoling
reflections regarding the allegorical nudity of Venus and Truth, he
regretted that his natural advantages were not set off by costly
garments. He ventured, then, after some hesitation, to tell a falsehood
to the buccaneer. "I assure you, my true and worthy rival, that my
servants and trunks are at St. Pierre and I find myself, as you see,
hardly clothed in a proper fashion to present myself before the queen of
my thoughts."
"What do you mean?" said the buccaneer.
"What I would say, brave Nimrod, is that I have the appearance of a
beggar, in that my coat and shoes, which yesterday were almost new, are
to-day abominably tattered and appear at least six months old."
"Six months? Oh! they are devilishly older than that to all appearances,
my brother."
"All which proves how torrid your devilish sun is; in one day it has
faded my clothing which yesterday was the freshest sea-green, the most
tender and coquettish of colors, until now----"
"They are almost mould-green," said the buccaneer. "It is like your
shoulder-strap--our devouring sun eats gold until he leave but a red
thread."
"What signifies the shoulder-strap if the sword is free and strong from
the scabbard?" said Croustillac proudly. Then softening his tones, he
continued, "It is just because I am momentarily in an outfit unworthy my
rank, that I would inquire if I can find garments more suitable at
Devil's Cliff?"
"Ah, do you think that Blue Beard keeps a second-hand clothing
establishment?" said the buccaneer.
"Heaven forbid that I should accuse her of such an ignoble traffic! But,
in fine, it would not be surprising if, as I say, by chance, there had
been overlooked in some corner of a clothes-press some garments
belonging to one of the deceased husbands of our charming friend?"
"Ah!" said the buccaneer.
"Well?" replied the chevalier imperturbably, "although it would cost me
an effort to appear in what did not belong to me, and above all, in what
could not fit me very well, I would reconcile myself to so doing, in
default of my fine clothing now at St. Pierre, even at the risk of being
abominably disfigured, perhaps, by the chance garments," continued he
disdainfully.
The buccaneer broke into peals of laughter at the singular notion of his
companion. Croustillac colored with annoyance and said, "Zounds! you are
very facetious, my friend."
"I laugh because I see I am not alone in the traffic of skins," said
Rend-your-Soul. "Truly we are brothers! If I despoil the bulls of their
skins, you are not too proud to despoil one of the husbands of the
widow. But we are now at the foot of the cliff. Take care, friend, one
must have a sure foot and a true eye to climb this ascent unharmed! If
you find it too rough, you need go no further; I will send you a guide
to conduct you back to Macouba."
"Remain here! at my journey's end, almost! after a thousand
difficulties! at the moment when I shall see and captivate this
enchantress, Blue Beard," cried the chevalier. "You have lost your wits.
Come on, comrade, what you do, I will do," said the chevalier.
Truth to say, thanks to his long legs, his natural agility and his
coolness, Croustillac followed the buccaneer over the perilous road
that led to the mansion, across the terrible precipice of Devil's Cliff.
A signal from the buccaneer and the wall of the platform was scaled,
and, with his companion, he entered the outer buildings.
Reaching the covered passage which led to the widow's especial suite,
the buccaneer whispered a word in the ear of the mulattress. She took
the chevalier's hand and led him to a stairway in the passage.
Croustillac hesitated a moment to follow the slave. The buccaneer said,
"Go on, brother, you do not wish to present yourself thus before the
widow; I have said a word to old Jennette, and she is going to provide
you with the means to shine like the sun. As for me, I go to announce
your arrival to Blue Beard."
So saying, the buccaneer disappeared in the covered passage.
Croustillac, guided by the mulattress, came to a room very elegantly and
comfortably furnished.
"Zounds!" cried the adventurer, rubbing his hands and taking long
strides, "this begins well. Provided I can appear to advantage, provided
that the deceased husbands of the widow had decent figures and that
their clothes will not disfigure me too much, I shall please--I shall
captivate the widow; and this animal of a buccaneer, ousted by me from
the heart of Blue Beard, will return to-morrow--perhaps even to-night,
to his forest."
Croustillac soon saw a number of negroes enter the room. One of them
staggered under an enormous parcel; the other carried on a chased silver
tray a silver gilt dish, wherein smoked a soup of the most appetizing
odor; two glass carafes, one filled with old Bordeaux, the color of
rubies, the other with Madeira wine, color of topaz, flanked the dish
and completed this light refreshment sent to the chevalier by the widow.
While one of the slaves placed before him a little table of ebony inlaid
with ivory, the negro bearing the parcel laid upon the bed a costume of
black velvet ornamented by rich flowers embroidered in gold. What was
singular about the coat was that the left sleeve was of cherry-colored
satin; this sleeve closed above the wrist with a broad facing of buffalo
skin.
For the rest, with the exception of this peculiarity, the coat was
elegantly cut; stockings of very fine silk, a rhinegrave, or cravat, of
magnificent lace, a large felt hat adorned with beautiful white plumes
and a heavy gold cord were to complete the transformation of the
adventurer.
While the chevalier endeavored to divine why the left sleeve of this
black velvet coat was of cherry-colored silk, the two negroes prepared a
bath in a neighboring dressing-room; another slave asked Croustillac in
quite pure French if he would be shaved and have his hair dressed;
Croustillac assented. Entirely refreshed and invigorated by an aromatic
bath, wrapped in a dressing-gown of fine Holland linen which exhaled the
most exquisite odors, the adventurer lounged on a soft divan while the
slaves waved enormous fans.
The chevalier, in spite of his blind faith in his destiny, which,
according to him, was to become as beautiful as it had heretofore been
miserable, believed himself at times in a dream.
His wildest hopes were surpassed; in casting a complacent glance on the
rich costume with which he was clothed, and which was to render him
fatally irresistible, he was seized with a feeling akin to remorse, on
account of the buccaneer, who had so unwisely given ingress to the wolf
into this fold in which dwelt his love. The thought of this good fellow
made Croustillac smile; he was prepared to bewilder Blue Beard by
language in which he would be victorious over her barbarous adorers.
Suddenly a horrible fear obscured the smiling prospect for the Gascon.
He began to fear for the first time that Blue Beard might be repulsively
plain; he had also the modesty to think that perhaps it would be too
much of him to require of fate that Blue Beard be of an ideal beauty.
Croustillac possessed good qualities. He said to himself with the
conviction of a man who knew perfectly how to moderate and set bounds to
his ambition--"Providing the widow be not more than from forty to fifty
years; that she be not blind or outrageously lame; that she has some
teeth and hair--faith! her wine is so good, her service so fine, her
servants so attentive--if she is worth three or four millions, I
consent to take the risk my predecessors did, and to make the widow
happy, on the honor of De Croustillac! seeing that I prefer to take the
consequences of my role as a husband rather than return on board the
Unicorn and swallow lighted candles for the amusement of that amphibious
animal, Captain Daniel. Well, then, should Blue Beard be plain, and of
overripe age, she is still a millionaire, and I will take care of this
good lady, and will be so very agreeable to her that, far from sending
me to join the other dead husbands, she will have no desire but that of
cherishing me dearly, and embellishing my life by all kinds of delicious
cares. Come, come, Croustillac," said the adventurer, with increased
exaltation, "I say truly, your star is in the ascendent, and shall shine
more than in the past it has been overcast! Yes, it is in the
ascendent."
So saying, the chevalier called one of the blacks who was awaiting his
orders in a neighboring room, and with his assistance put on the velvet
dress with the cherry colored sleeve. The Gascon was tall, but bony and
thin; the garment which he donned was made for a man of the same height,
but broad-chested and small in the waist; so the vest formed some large
folds about the body of Croustillac; and his cherry-colored stockings
draped themselves no less majestically about his long, thin, and nervous
legs.
The chevalier did not concern himself about these slight imperfections
of his costume; he threw a final glance at his reflection in the
Venetian mirror which the slave held up to him, arranged his rough,
black hair, caressed his long mustache, hung his formidable sword to a
rich strap of buffalo skin which had been brought to him, proudly put on
the felt hat with golden cord and white plumes, and, strutting up and
down the room with a triumphant air, impatiently awaited the moment of
presentation to the widow. This moment arrived shortly. The aged
mulattress who had received the adventurer came to seek him, and begging
him to follow her, ushered him into the retired building which we have
already seen.
The room in which Croustillac waited some moments was furnished with a
luxury of which he had heretofore had no idea; superb old paintings,
magnificent porcelains, curiosities in goldsmith's work, of the most
costly nature, incumbered the furniture, as valuable on account of its
material as for its workmanship; a lute and a theorbo, whose ornaments
of ivory and gold were of a finish most uncommon in carving, attracted
the attention of Croustillac, who was delighted to think that his future
wife was a musician.
"Zounds!" cried the chevalier, "is it possible that the mistress of so
much wealth is as beautiful as the day? No, no, I should be too
fortunate; although I deserve this happiness."
We may judge of the surprise, not to say the shock, to the Gascon when
Angela entered. The little widow was radiant in youth, grace, beauty and
dress; robed in a costume of the fashion of Louis the Fourteenth, she
wore a dress of sky blue, the long waist of which seemed to be
embroidered with diamonds, pearls and rubies, though this profusion of
gems was arranged with taste.
Croustillac, in spite of his audacity, recoiled before such a vision. In
all his life he had never encountered a woman so ravishingly pretty, so
royally dressed; he could not believe his eyes; he looked at her with
bewilderment. We must say, to the chevalier's credit, that he had a
laudable attack of modesty, but unhappily as fleeting as sincere. He
thought that so charming a creature might perhaps hesitate to marry an
adventurer like himself; but he recalled his impertinent and
vainglorious confidences to the buccaneer; he said to himself that,
after all, one man was as good as another, and he recovered very rapidly
his imperturbable assurance.
Croustillac made, one after another, three of the most respectful bows;
in order to resume his upright attitude and at the same time display the
nobility of his figure, advancing on one of his long legs, and drawing
the other a little behind it, he assumed a conquering air, holding his
hat in the right hand and resting his left hand upon the handle of his
sword. Doubtless he was about to make some gallant compliment to Blue
Beard, for he had already placed his hand on his heart, and opened his
large mouth, when the little widow, who could no longer repress an
irresistible desire to laugh at the absurd appearance of the chevalier,
gave free vent to her hilarity. This explosion of gayety shut
Croustillac's mouth and he endeavored to smile, hoping thus to humor
Blue Beard.
This polite effort took the form of so grotesque a grimace that Angela
fell on the sofa, forgetting all rules of politeness, all dignity, and
abandoned herself to a mad fit of laughter; her beautiful blue eyes,
always so brilliant, were veiled in tears of amusement; her cheeks
became crimson and her charming dimples deepened to such an extent that
the widow could have hidden in their depths the entire end of her rosy
little finger.
Croustillac, much embarrassed, remained motionless before the pretty
widow, first contracting his eyebrows with an angry air, then, on the
contrary, he endeavored to relax his thin long face into a forced smile.
While these successive expressions did not tend to put an end to Blue
Beard's mirth, the chevalier said to himself that for a murderess, the
widow did not have such a gloomy and terrible appearance after all.
Nevertheless, the vanity of our adventurer could not easily brook the
singular effect which he had produced. For want of better conclusion he
ended by saying to himself that above all things he always struck the
imagination of women keenly; it was necessary at first to astonish them,
upset them, and that, in this respect, his first interview with Blue
Beard left nothing to be desired.
When he saw that the widow had become a little calmer, he said
resolutely, and with superbly bombastic manner, "I am sure you laugh,
madame, at all the despairing efforts that I make to prevent my poor
stolen heart from flying quickly to your feet. It is that which has
brought me here; I could not but follow, in spite of myself; yes,
madame, in spite of myself. I said to it, 'there, there, softly, softly,
my heart, it does not suffice, in order to please a divine beauty, to be
passionately loving,' but my little, or rather my great and rash, heart
replied ever by drawing me to you with all its strength; as if it had
been the steel and Devil's Cliff the magnet; my heart, I say, replied to
me, 'Reassure yourself, master; tender and valiant as you are, the love
that you feel shall cause the birth of a love which you shall share.'
But pardon me madame, the language of my heart makes me outrageously
impertinent--it is doubtless this impertinence which makes you laugh
anew."
"No, sir, no; your appearance diverts me to this great extent because
you resemble--ha! ha! ha!--in a strange way, my second husband. You have
positively the very same nose--ha! ha! ha!--and in seeing you enter, I
believed I saw his spirit--ha! ha! ha!--coming to reproach me--ha! ha!
ha!--with his cruel end--ha! ha!"
The laughter of Angela redoubled. The chevalier was not ignorant of the
antecedents with which Blue Beard might be reproached, but he could not
conceal his great surprise at hearing this charming little creature
acknowledge the crime of murder with such incredible audacity.
Nevertheless, the chevalier recovered his customary coolness and replied
gallantly, "I am too happy, madame, to recall to you one of your
deceased husbands; and of reviving by my presence one of your memories,
whatever it may be. But," continued Croustillac with a gallant manner,
"there are other resemblances that I would wish to have to the
deceased--whose memory diverts you so much."
"That is to say, you desire to marry me?" said Blue Beard to him.
The chevalier was stupefied for a moment by this abrupt question.
Angela went on: "I expected it; Rend-your-Soul, whom I call by an
abbreviation, my little Rendsoul, has informed me of your desires;
perhaps he wishes to raise false hopes," added the widow, looking
coquettishly at the chevalier.
Croustillac experienced surprise after surprise. "How," he cried, "the
buccaneer has told you, madame----"
"That you have come from France for the express purpose of marrying
me--is it true? See, speak frankly--do not deceive me. Oh, I do not like
to be thwarted. I warn you, if I have taken it into my head that you
shall be my husband, you shall be."
"Madame, I beg of you, do not take me for a fool, for a jackanapes, for
a stupid; if I am dumb, it is with emotion, surprise." And Croustillac
looked about him uneasily, as if to assure himself he was not the sport
of a dream. "May I be shot if I expected such a reception."
"Well, there is no need to make so many words over it," replied the
widow. "I have been told you wish to marry me--is it true?"
"As true as that you are the most dazzling beauty that I have ever met,"
said the chevalier impetuously, placing his hand on his heart.
"Truly? Truly? You have really decided to marry me?" cried the little
widow, clapping her hands joyfully.
"I am so decided, adorable widow, that my only fear now is of not seeing
this desire realized; it is, I avow, an excessive desire, a great dream,
and----"
"Be quiet, then," said Blue Beard, interrupting the chevalier with
childlike frankness. "What is the use of these big words? You ask my
hand--why should I not give it to you?"
"How, madame, can I believe it! Ah, wait, beautiful Islander. I have had
many triumphs in my life; princesses have avowed their passion for me;
queens have sighed when looking at me, but never, madame, never have I
found such a one! Yes, madame, you can congratulate yourself, you can
boast of having brought to its height my surprise, my joy and my
gratitude. Repeat, then, I implore you, repeat those charming words--you
consent to take me for your husband, me, Polypheme de Croustillac?"
"I will repeat it as much as you desire; nothing is simpler; you can
well understand that I have too much trouble in finding husbands not to
seize eagerly the offer which you make me."
"Ah, madame," replied the chevalier courteously, "at the risk of passing
for an impertinent man, I must allow myself to contradict you. Never can
I believe that you could find it difficult to find a husband. I will say
more--I am convinced that you have had, since your widowhood only
embarrassment of choice, but you have simply not wished to select. You
have too good taste, madame," said Croustillac audaciously, "you
waited----"
"I might deceive you and allow you to think this, chevalier, but you are
too brave and gallant a man to be abused--at present," continued Angela,
with a gracious and confidential manner, "I will tell you all. Listen to
me. The first time I married, I had but to choose, it is true. O,
heavens! suitors presented themselves in swarms, and I chose--very well,
too. Then my second marriage: it was even then not the same thing.
People had commented on the singular death of my first husband, and
suitors had already begun to reflect before declaring themselves.
However, as I am not stupid, thanks to determination, cajolery and
coquetry, I succeeded in getting a second husband. Alas! it was not
without trouble. But the third. Oh, you have no idea all the trouble I
had; truly I was in despair!"
"Ah, madame, why was I not there!"
"Doubtless, but, unhappily, you were not. If they talked about the death
of my first husband; you can judge what they said about that of my
second. People began to distrust me," said the widow, shaking her pretty
little head with an expression of ingenuous melancholy. "What would you
have? the world is so meddling, so slanderous; men are so strange!"
"The world is stupid and egotistical, foolish," cried Croustillac,
filled with pity for this victim of calumny. "Men are cowards and fools
who believe all the gossip which is told them."
"What you say is very true. You are not so, my friend?"
"She calls me her friend," cried Croustillac, in a transport; and he
answered, "No, certainly not, and I am not so."
"Doubtless," said the widow, "you are very different; you spoil me by
accepting my proposition so quickly."
"Say, rather, that I am beyond bounds overjoyed at it, madame."
"You spoil me," continued the widow, with an enchanting smile, and
throwing a tender glance at the chevalier. "I assure you you spoil me;
you are so easy, so accommodating. Ah! how shall I replace you?"
"Replace me?"
"Yes, after you, friend."
"After me?"
"Yes, certainly, after you."
"Madame, I do not understand you. I do not wish to understand."
"It is very simple; how can I hope to find another like you, who will
marry me so willingly? Ah, no, such men are rare!"
"How, madame, after me?" cried Croustillac, overcome by this idea. "You
dream, then, of a successor to me?"
"Yes, friend," replied the widow, with the most touchingly sentimental
air imaginable; "yes, for when you are no more I must renew my quest,
seek, ask, and find a fifth husband. Think, then, of the difficulties
and obstacles to overcome. Perhaps I shall not succeed. Think, then, a
widow for the fourth time. You forget that; it is a fact, however; my
friend, after you, I shall be a widow for the fourth time."
"I do not forget it at all, madame," said Croustillac, whose ardor
became somewhat chilled, and began to ask himself if this affair was not
madness. "I shall not forget, certainly, in case I have the honor of
marrying you, that you will be for the fourth time a widow if you lose
me; but it appears you place a rather short period to my love."
"Alas! yes, my friend," said the widow, in a tender voice, "one year,
and a year is very short. A year! it passes so quickly when one loves,"
continued she, casting the glance of a perfect assassin at him.
"A year, madame," cried the chevalier. But then, believing that the
words of Blue Beard hid perhaps a test, that she wished possibly to
judge of his courage, he added in a chivalrous tone, "Ah, well, so be
it, madame; whether my happiness last but a year, a day, an hour, a
minute--it matters not; I will brave all, if only I can say that I have
been fortunate enough to obtain your hand."
"You are a true knight," said the widow, charmed. "I expected no less of
you. That is agreed; only I must forewarn my little Rendsoul, for form's
sake, understand, for married or not I shall always be to him what I
have been."
"But, madame," said Croustillac, "is it permitted me, will it be
indiscreet to ask you what you are to this hunter of wild beasts, and
what are his relations with you? Or, rather, will you explain to me what
intimacy it is that you feel obliges you to speak to him of your plans?"
"Certainly; and to whom would I make this statement if not to you, my
friend? I will confess to you that Rendsoul is one of my lovers."
Here Croustillac made such a singular grimace and coughed two or three
times in such a manner, that Angela broke into a peal of laughter.
Croustillac, for a moment dumfounded, came to this reflection full of
wisdom: "I am a fool! Nothing is simpler. She had a kind of fancy for
this stupid fellow. The sight of me has decided her to sacrifice him;
unlucky buccaneer that he is! But why the devil does she tell me that at
the end of a year she must find a successor to me?"
"Wait--here comes my Rendsoul," said the widow. "We will tell him our
plans, and we will sup together like three friends."
"It matters not to me," said Croustillac, seeing the buccaneer enter.
"Here is a little woman who wishes to show that she is an original."