A BAL-MASQUE OF THE PERIOD.--THE BAT.
The opera balls were then at their height. It was an invention of the
Chevalier de Bullon, who only obtained pardon for assuming the title of
Prince d'Auvergne, nobody exactly knew why, by rendering this service to
the dissipated society of the time. It was he who had invented the
double flooring which put the pit on a level with the stage: and the
regent, who highly appreciated all good inventions, had granted him in
recompense a pension of two thousand livres, which was four times what
the Grand Roi had given to Corneille. That beautiful room, with its rich
and grave architecture, which the Cardinal de Richelieu had inaugurated
by his "Mirame," where Sully and Quinault's pastorals had been
represented, and where Moliere had himself played his principal works,
was this evening the rendezvous of all that was noble, rich, and
elegant.
D'Harmental, from a feeling of spite, very natural in his situation, had
taken particular pains with his toilet. When he arrived, the room was
already full, and he had an instant's fear that the mask with the violet
ribbons would not find him, inasmuch as the unknown had neglected to
assign a place of meeting, and he congratulated himself on having come
unmasked. This resolution showed great confidence in the discretion of
his late adversaries, a word from whom would have sent him before the
Parliament, or at least to the Bastille. But so much confidence had the
gentlemen of that day in each other's good faith, that, after having in
the morning passed his sword through the body of one of the regent's
favorites, the chevalier came, without hesitation, to seek an adventure
at the Palais Royal. The first person he saw there was the young Duc de
Richelieu, whose name, adventures, elegance, and perhaps indiscretions,
had already brought him so much into fashion. It was said that two
princesses of the blood disputed his affections, which did not prevent
Madame de Nesle and Madame de Polignac from fighting with pistols for
him, or Madame de Sabran, Madame de Villars, Madame de Mouchy, and
Madame de Tencin, from sharing his heart.
He had just joined the Marquis de Canillac, one of the regent's
favorites, whom, on account of the grave appearance he affected, his
highness called his mentor. Richelieu began to tell Canillac a story,
out loud and with much gesticulation. The chevalier knew the duke, but
not enough to interrupt a conversation; he was going to pass, when the
duke seized him by the coat.
"Pardieu!" he said, "my dear chevalier, you are not de trop. I am
telling Canillac an adventure which may be useful to him as nocturnal
lieutenant to the regent, and to you, as running the same danger as I
did. The history dates from to-day--a further merit, as I have only had
time to tell it to about twenty people, so that it is scarcely known.
Spread it, you will oblige me, and the regent also."
D'Harmental frowned. The duke had chosen his time badly. At this moment
the Chevalier de Ravanne passed, pursuing a mask. "Ravanne!" cried
Richelieu, "Ravanne!"
"I am not at leisure," replied he.
"Do you know where Lafare is?"
"He has the migraine."
"And Fargy?"
"He has sprained himself." And Ravanne disappeared in the crowd, after
bowing in the most friendly manner to his adversary of the morning.
"Well, and the story?" asked Canillac.
"We are coming to it. Imagine that some time ago, when I left the
Bastille, where my duel with Gace had sent me, three or four days after
my reappearance Rafe gave me a charming little note from Madame de
Parabere, inviting me to pass that evening with her. You understand,
chevalier, that it is not at the moment of leaving the Bastille that one
would despise a rendezvous, given by the mistress of him who holds the
keys. No need to inquire if I was punctual; guess who I found seated on
the sofa by her side. I give you a hundred guesses."
"Her husband," said Canillac.
"On the contrary, it was his royal highness himself. I was so much the
more astonished, as I had been admitted with some mystery; nevertheless,
as you will understand, I would not allow myself to appear astonished. I
assumed a composed and modest air, like yours, Canillac, and saluted the
marquise with such profound respect, that the regent laughed. I did not
expect this explosion, and was a little disconcerted. I took a chair,
but the regent signed to me to take my place on the sofa. I obeyed.
"'My dear duke,' he said, 'we have written to you on a serious affair.
Here is this poor marchioness, who, after being separated from her
husband for two years, is threatened with an action by this clown, under
pretext that she has a lover.' The marchioness tried to blush, but
finding she could not, covered her face with her fan. 'At the first word
she told me of her position,' continued the regent, 'I sent for
D'Argenson, and asked him who this lover could be.'
"'Oh, monsieur, spare me!' said the marchioness.--'Nonsense, my little
duck; a little patience.'--'Do you know what the lieutenant of police
answered me, my dear duke?'--'No,' said I, much embarrassed.--'He said
it was either you or me.'--'It is an atrocious calumny,' I
cried.--'Don't be excited, the marchioness has confessed all.'
"'Then,' I replied, 'if the marchioness has confessed all, I do not see
what remains for me to tell.'--'Oh!' continued the regent, 'I do not ask
you for details. It only remains for us, as accomplices, to get one
another out of the scrape.'--'And what have you to fear, monseigneur?' I
asked. 'I know that, protected by your highness's name, I might brave
all. What have we to fear?'--'The outcry of Parabere, who wants me to
make him a duke.'
"'Well, suppose we reconcile them,' replied I.--'Exactly,' said his
highness, laughing; 'and you have had the same idea as the
marchioness.'--'Pardieu, madame, that is an honor for me. There must be
a kind of apparent reconciliation between this tender couple, which
would prevent the marquis from incommoding us with the scandal of an
action.'--'But the difficulty,' objected Madame de Parabere, 'is, that
it is two years since he has been here; and, as he piques himself on his
jealousy and severity, what can we say? He has made a vow, that if any
one sets foot here during his absence, the law should avenge him.'
"'You see, Richelieu, this becomes rather uncomfortable,' added the
regent.--'Peste! It does indeed.'--'I have some means of coercion in my
hands, but they do not go so far as to force a husband to be reconciled
to his wife, and to receive her at his house.'--'Well,' replied I,
'suppose we bring him here.'--'There is the difficulty.'--'Wait a
moment. May I ask if Monsieur de Parabere still has a weakness for
champagne and burgundy?'--'I fear so,' said the marchioness.--'Then,
monseigneur, we are saved. I invite the marquis to supper, with a dozen
of mauvais sujets and charming women. You send Dubois.'--'What! Dubois?'
asked the regent.
"'Certainly; one of us must remain sober. As Dubois cannot drink, he
must undertake to make the marquis drink; and when everybody is under
the table, he can take him away from us and do what he likes with him.
The rest depends on the coachman.'--'Did I not tell you, marchioness,'
said the regent, 'that Richelieu would give us good advice? Stop, duke,'
continued he; 'you must leave off wandering round certain palaces; leave
the old lady to die quietly at St. Cyr, the lame man to rhyme at Sceaux,
and join yourself with us. I will give you, in my cabinet, the place of
that old fool D'Axelles; and affairs will not perhaps be injured by
it.'--'I dare say,' answered I. 'The thing is impossible; I have other
plans.'--'Obstinate fellow!' murmured the regent."
"And Monsieur de Parabere?" asked the Chevalier d'Harmental, curious to
know the end of the story.--"Oh! everything passed as we arranged it. He
went to sleep at my house, and awoke at his wife's. He made a great
noise, but there was no longer any possibility of crying scandal. His
carriage had stopped at his wife's hotel, and all the servants saw him
enter. He was reconciled in spite of himself. If he dares again to
complain of his beautiful wife, we will prove to him, as clearly as
possible, that he adores her without knowing it; and that she is the
most innocent of women--also without his knowing it."
"Chevalier!" at this moment a sweet and flute-like voice whispered in
D'Harmental's ear, while a little hand rested on his arm.
"You see that I am wanted."
"I will let you go on one condition."
"What is it?"
"That you will tell my story to this charming bat, charging her to tell
it to all the night-birds of her acquaintance."
"I fear," said D'Harmental, "I shall not have time."
"Oh! so much the better for you," replied the duke, freeing the
chevalier, whom till then he had held by the coat; "for then you must
have something better to say."
And he turned on his heel, to take the arm of a domino, who, in passing,
complimented him on his adventure. D'Harmental threw a rapid glance on
the mask who accosted him, in order to make sure that it was the one
with whom he had a rendezvous, and was satisfied on seeing a violet
ribbon on the left shoulder. He hastened to a distance from Canillac and
Richelieu, in order not to be interrupted in a conversation which he
expected to be highly interesting.
The unknown, whose voice betrayed her sex, was of middle height, and
young, as far as one could judge from the elasticity of her movements.
As M. de Richelieu had already remarked, she had adopted the costume
best calculated to hide either graces or defects. She was dressed as a
bat--a costume much in vogue, and very convenient, from its perfect
simplicity, being composed only of two black skirts. The manner of
employing them was at the command of everybody. One was fastened, as
usual, round the waist; the masked head was passed through the
placket-hole of the other. The front was pulled down to make wings; the
back raised to make horns. You were almost certain thus to puzzle an
interlocutor, who could only recognize you by the closest scrutiny.
The chevalier made all these observations in less time than it has taken
to describe them; but having no knowledge of the person with whom he had
to deal, and believing it to be some love intrigue, he hesitated to
speak; when, turning toward him:
"Chevalier," said the mask, without disguising her voice, assuming that
her voice was unknown to him, "do you know that I am doubly grateful to
you for having come, particularly in the state of mind in which you are?
It is unfortunate that I cannot attribute this exactitude to anything
but curiosity."
"Beautiful mask!" answered D'Harmental, "did you not tell me in your
letter that you were a good genius? Now, if really you partake of a
superior nature, the past, the present and the future must be known to
you. You knew, then, that I should come; and, since you knew it, my
coming ought not to astonish you."
"Alas!" replied the unknown, "it is easy to see that you are a weak
mortal, and that you are happy enough never to have raised yourself
above your sphere, otherwise you would know that if we, as you say, know
the past, the present and the future, this science is silent as to what
regards ourselves, and that the things we most desire remain to us
plunged in the most dense obscurity."
"Diable! Monsieur le Genie," answered D'Harmental, "do you know that you
will make me very vain if you continue in that tone; for, take care, you
have told me, or nearly so, that you had a great desire that I should
come to your rendezvous."
"I did not think I was telling you anything new, chevalier. It appeared
to me that my letter would leave you no doubt as to the desire I felt of
seeing you."
"This desire, which I only admit because you confess it, and I am too
gallant to contradict you--had it not made you promise in your letter
more than is in your power to keep?"
"Make a trial of my science; that will give you a test of my power."
"Oh, mon Dieu! I will confine myself to the simplest thing. You say you
are acquainted with the past, the present and the future. Tell me my
fortune."
"Nothing easier; give me your hand."
D'Harmental did what was asked of him.
"Sir," said the stranger, after a moment's examination, "I see very
legibly written by the direction of the 'adducta,' and by the
arrangement of the longitudinal lines of the palm, five words, in which
are included the history of your life. These words are, courage,
ambition, disappointment, love, and treason."
"Peste!" interrupted the chevalier, "I did not know that the genii
studied anatomy so deeply, and were obliged to take their degrees like a
Bachelor of Salamanca!"
"Genii know all that men know, and many other things besides,
chevalier."
"Well, then, what mean these words, at once so sonorous and so opposite?
and what do they teach you of me in the past, my very learned genius?"
"They teach me that it is by your courage alone that you gained the rank
of colonel, which you occupied in the army in Flanders; that this rank
awakened your ambition; that this ambition has been followed by a
disappointment; that you hoped to console yourself for this
disappointment by love; but that love, like fortune, is subject to
treachery, and that you have been betrayed."
"Not bad," said the chevalier; "and the Sybil of Cuma could not have got
out of it better. A little vague, as in all horoscopes, but a great fund
of truth, nevertheless. Let us come to the present, beautiful mask."
"The present, chevalier? Let us speak softly of it, for it smells
terribly of the Bastille."
The chevalier started in spite of himself, for he believed that no one
except the actors who had played a part in it could know his adventure
of the morning.
"There are at this hour," continued the stranger, "two brave gentlemen
lying sadly in their beds, while we chat gayly at the ball; and that
because a certain Chevalier d'Harmental, a great listener at doors, did
not remember a hemistich of Virgil."
"And what is this hemistich?" asked the chevalier, more and more
astonished.
"'Facilis descensus Averni,'" said the mask, laughing.
"My dear genius," cried the chevalier, trying to peep through the
openings in the stranger's mask, "that, allow me to inform you, is a
quotation rather masculine."
"Do you not know that genii are of both sexes?"
"Yes; but I had never heard that they quoted the AEneid so fluently."
"Is not the quotation appropriate? You speak to me of the Sybil of Cuma;
I answer you in her language. You ask for existing things; I give them
you. But you mortals are never satisfied."
"No; for I confess that this knowledge of the past and the present
inspires me with a terrible desire to know the future."
"There are always two futures," said the mask; "there is the future of
weak minds, and the future of strong minds. God has given man free will
that he might choose. Your future depends on yourself."
"But we must know these two futures to choose the best."
"Well, there is one which awaits you, somewhere in the environs of
Nevers, in the depth of the country, among the rabbits of your warren,
and the fowls of your poultry-yard. This one will conduct you straight
to the magistrate's bench of your parish. It is an easy ambition, and
you have only to let yourself go to attain it. You are on the road."
"And the other?" replied the chevalier, visibly piqued at the
supposition that in any case such a future could be his.
"The other," said the stranger, leaning her arm on that of the young
man, and fixing her eyes on him through her mask; "the other will throw
you back into noise and light--will make you one of the actors in the
game which is playing in the world, and, whether you gain or lose, will
leave you at least the renown of a great player."
"If I lose, what shall I lose?" asked the chevalier.
"Life, probably."
The chevalier tossed his head contemptuously.
"And if I win?" added he.
"What do you say to the rank of colonel of horse, the title of Grandee
of Spain, and the order of the Saint Esprit, without counting the
field-marshal's baton in prospective?"
"I say that the prize is worth the stake, and that if you can prove to
me that you can keep your promise, I am your man."
"This proof," replied the mask, "must be given you by another, and if
you wish to have it you must follow me."
"Oh!" said D'Harmental, "am I deceived, and are you but a genius of the
second order--a subaltern spirit, an intermediate power? Diable! this
would take away a little of my consideration for you."
"What does it matter if I am subject to some great enchantress, and she
has sent me to you?"
"I warn you that I do not treat with ambassadors."
"My mission is to conduct you to her."
"Then I shall see her?"
"Face to face."----"Let us go, then."
"Chevalier, you go quickly to the work; you forget that before all
initiations there are certain indispensable ceremonies to secure the
discretion of the initiated."
"What must I do?"
"You must allow your eyes to be bandaged, and let me lead you where I
like. When arrived at the door of the temple, you must take a solemn
oath to reveal nothing concerning the things you may hear, or the people
you may see."
"I am ready to swear by the Styx," said D'Harmental, laughing.
"No, chevalier," said the mask, in a grave voice; "swear only by your
honor; you are known, and that will suffice."
"And when I have taken this oath," asked the chevalier, after an
instant's reflection, "will it be permitted to me to retire, if the
proposals made are not such as a gentleman may entertain?"
"Your conscience will be your sole arbiter, and your word the only
pledge demanded of you."
"I am ready," said the chevalier.
"Let us go, then," said the mask.
The chevalier prepared to cross the room in a straight line toward the
door; but perceiving three of his friends, who might have stopped him on
the way, he made a turn, and described a curve which would bring him to
the same end.
"What are you doing?" asked the mask.
"I am avoiding some one who might detain us."
"Ah!" said the mask, "I began to fear."
"Fear what?" asked D'Harmental.
"To fear that your ardor was diminished in the proportion of the
diagonal to the two sides of a square."
"Pardieu!" said D'Harmental, "this is the first time, I believe, that
ever a rendezvous was given to a gentleman at an opera ball to talk
anatomy, ancient literature, and mathematics. I am sorry to say so, but
you are the most pedantic genius I ever met in my life."
The bat burst out laughing, but made no reply to this sally, in which
was betrayed the spite of the chevalier at not being able to recognize a
person who appeared to be so well acquainted with his adventures; but as
this only added to his curiosity, both descended in equal haste, and
found themselves in the vestibule.
"What road shall we take?" asked the chevalier. "Shall we travel
underground, or in a car drawn by griffins?"
"With your permission, chevalier, we will simply go in a carriage; and
though you appear to doubt it, I am a woman, and rather afraid of the
dark."
"Permit me, then, to call my carriage," said the chevalier.
"Not at all; I have my own."
"Call it then."
"With your permission, chevalier, we will not be more proud than Mahomet
with the mountain; and as my carriage cannot come to us, we will go to
it."
At these words the bat drew the chevalier into the Rue St. Honore. A
carriage without armorial bearings, with two dark-colored horses, waited
at the corner of the street. The coachman was on his seat, enveloped in
a great cape which hid the lower part of his face, while a
three-cornered hat covered his forehead and eyes. A footman held the
door open with one hand, and with the other held his handkerchief so as
to conceal his face.
"Get in," said the mask.
D'Harmental hesitated a moment. The anxiety of the servants to preserve
their incognito, the carriage without blazon, the obscure place where it
was drawn up, and the advanced hour of the night, all inspired the
chevalier with a sentiment of mistrust; but reflecting that he gave his
arm to a woman, and had a sword by his side, he got in boldly. The mask
sat down by him, and the footman closed the door.
"Well, are we not going to start?" said the chevalier, seeing that the
carriage remained motionless.
"There remains a little precaution to be taken," said the mask, drawing
a silk handkerchief from her pocket.
"Ah! yes, true," said D'Harmental; "I had forgotten. I give myself up to
you with confidence."
And he advanced his head. The unknown bandaged his eyes; then said--
"Chevalier, you give me your word of honor not to remove this bandage
till I give you permission?"
"I do."
"It is well."
Then, raising the glass in front, she said to the coachman--
"You know where, Monsieur le Comte."
And the carriage started at a gallop.