THE GARRET.
The next day the Abbe Brigaud came to the chevalier's house at the same
hour as before. He was a perfectly punctual man. He brought with him
three things particularly useful to the chevalier; clothes, a passport,
and the report of the Prince of Cellamare's police respecting what the
regent was going to do on the present day, March 24, 1718. The clothes
were simple, as became the cadet of a bourgeois family come to seek his
fortune in Paris. The chevalier tried them on, and, thanks to his own
good looks, found that they became him admirably.
The abbe shook his head. He would have preferred that the chevalier
should not have looked quite so well; but this was an irreparable
misfortune. The passport was in the name of Signior Diego, steward of
the noble house of Oropesa, who had a commission to bring back to Spain
a sort of maniac, a bastard of the said house, whose mania was to
believe himself regent of France. This was a precaution taken to meet
anything that the Duc d'Orleans might call out from the bottom of the
carriage; and, as the passport was according to rule, signed by the
Prince de Cellamare, and "vised" by Monsieur Voyer d'Argenson, there was
no reason why the regent, once in the carriage, should not arrive safely
at Pampeluna, when all would be done.
The signature of Monsieur Voyer d'Argenson was imitated with a truth
which did honor to the caligraphers of the Prince de Cellamare. As to
the report, it was a chef-d'oeuvre of clearness; and we insert it word
for word, to give an idea of the regent's life, and of the manner in
which the Spanish ambassador's police was conducted. It was dated two
o'clock in the morning.
"To-day the regent will rise late. There has been a supper in his
private rooms; Madame d'Averne was there for the first time instead of
Madame de Parabere. The other women were the Duchesse de Falaris, and
Saseri, maid of honor to madame. The men were the Marquis de Broglie,
the Count de Noce, the Marquis de Canillac, the Duc de Brancas, and the
Chevalier de Simiane. As to the Marquis de Lafare and Monsieur de Fargy,
they were detained in bed by an illness, of which the cause is unknown.
At noon there will be a council. The regent will communicate to the Ducs
de Maine and de Guiche the project of the treaty of the quadruple
alliance, which the Abbe Dubois has sent him, announcing his return in
three or four days.
"The rest of the day is given entirely to paternity. The day before
yesterday the regent married his daughter by La Desmarets, who was
brought up by the nuns of St. Denis. She dines with her husband at the
Palais Royal, and, after dinner, the regent takes her to the opera, to
the box of Madame Charlotte de Baviere. La Desmarets, who has not seen
her daughter for six years, is told that, if she wishes to see her, she
can come to the theater. The regent, in spite of his caprice for Madame
d'Averne, still pays court to Madame de Sabran, who piques herself on
her fidelity--not to her husband, but to the Duc de Richelieu. To
advance his affairs, the regent has appointed Monsieur de Sabran his
maitre-d'hotel."
"I hope that is business well done," said the Abbe Brigaud.
"Yes, my dear abbe," replied D'Harmental; "but if the regent does not
give us greater opportunities than that for executing our enterprise, it
will not be easy for us to take him to Spain."
"Patience, patience," said Brigaud; "if there had been an opportunity
to-day you would not have been able to profit by it."
"No; you are right."
"Then you see that what God does is well done. He has left us this day;
let us profit by it to move."
This was neither a long nor difficult business. D'Harmental took his
treasure, some books, and the packet which contained his wardrobe, and
drove to the abbe's house. Then he sent away his carriage, saying he
should go into the country in the evening, and would be away ten or
twelve days. Then, having changed his elegant clothes for those that
the abbe had brought him, he went to take possession of his new lodging.
It was a room, or rather an attic, with a closet, on the fourth story,
at No. 5, Rue du Temps Perdu. The proprietor of the house was an
acquaintance of the Abbe Brigaud's; therefore, thanks to his
recommendation, they had gone to some expense for the young provincial.
He found beautifully white curtains, very fine linen, and a
well-furnished library; so he saw at once that, if not so well off as in
his own apartments, he should be tolerably comfortable.
Madame Denis (this was the name of the abbe's friend) was waiting to do
the honors of the room to her future lodger. She boasted to him of its
convenience, and promised him that there would be no noise to disturb
him from his work. To all which he replied in such a modest manner, that
on going down to the first floor, where she lived, Madame Denis
particularly recommended him to the care of the porter and his wife.
This young man, though in appearance he could certainly compete with the
proudest seigneurs of the court, seemed to her far from having the bold
and free manners which the young men of the time affected. 'Tis true
that the Abbe Brigaud, in the name of his pupil's family, had paid her a
quarter in advance.
A minute after, the abbe went down to Madame Denis's room and completed
her good opinion of his young protege by telling her that he received
absolutely nobody but himself and an old friend of his father's. The
latter, in spite of brusk manners, which he had acquired in the field,
was a highly respectable gentleman.
D'Harmental used this precaution for fear the apparition of the captain
might frighten Madame Denis if she happened to meet him. When he was
alone, the chevalier, who had already taken the inventory of his own
room, resolved to take that of the neighborhood. He was soon able to
convince himself of the truth of what Madame Denis had said about the
quietness of the street, for it was not more than ten or twelve feet
wide; but this was to him a recommendation, for he calculated that if
pursued he might, by means of a plank passed from one window to that
opposite, escape to the other side of the street. It was, therefore,
important to establish amicable relations with his opposite neighbors.
Unfortunately, they did not seem much disposed to sociability; for not
only were the windows hermetically sealed, as the time of year demanded,
but the curtains behind them were so closely drawn, that there was not
the smallest opening through which he could look. More favored than that
of Madame Denis, the house opposite had a fifth story, or rather a
terrace. An attic room just above the window so carefully closed, opened
on this terrace. It was probably the residence of a gardener, for he had
succeeded, by means of patience and labor, in transforming this terrace
into a garden, containing, in some twelve feet square, a fountain, a
grotto, and an arbor.
It is true that the fountain only played by means of a superior
reservoir, which was fed in winter by the rain, and in summer by what he
himself poured into it. It is true that the grotto, ornamented with
shell work, and surrounded by a wooden fortress, appeared fit only to
shelter an individual of the canine race. It is true that the arbor,
entirely stripped of its leaves, appeared for the time fit only for an
immense poultry cage. As there was nothing to be seen but a monotonous
series of roofs and chimneys, D'Harmental closed his window, sat down in
an armchair, put his feet on the hobs, took up a volume by the Abbe
Chaulieu, and began to read the verses addressed to Mademoiselle de
Launay, which had a double interest for him, since he knew the heroine.
The result of this reading was that the chevalier, while smiling at the
octogenarian love of the good abbe, discovered that he, less fortunate,
had his heart perfectly unoccupied. For a short time he had thought he
had loved Madame d'Averne, and had been loved by her; but on her part
this deep affection did not withstand the offer of some jewels from the
regent, and the vanity of pleasing him.
Before this infidelity had occurred, the chevalier thought that it would
have driven him to despair. It had occurred, and he had fought, because
at that time men fought about everything which arose, probably from
dueling being so strictly forbidden. Then he began to perceive how small
a place this love had held in his heart. A real despair would not have
allowed him to seek amusement at the bal-masque, in which case the
exciting events of the last few days would not have happened.
The result of this was, that the chevalier remained convinced that he
was incapable of a deep love, and that he was only destined for those
charming wickednesses so much in vogue. He got up, and began to walk up
and down his room; while thus employed he perceived that the window
opposite was now wide open. He stopped mechanically, drew back his
curtain, and began to investigate the room thus exposed.
It was to all appearance occupied by a woman. Near the window, on which
a charming little Italian greyhound rested her delicate paws, was an
embroidery frame. Opposite the window was an open harpsichord between
two music stands, some crayon drawings, framed in black wood with a gold
bead, were hung on the walls, which were covered with a Persian paper.
Curtains of Indian chintz, of the same pattern as the paper, hung behind
the muslin curtains. Through a second window, half open, he could see
the curtains of a recess which probably contained a bed. The rest of the
furniture was perfectly simple, but almost elegant, which was due
evidently, not to the fortune, but to the taste of the modest
inhabitant.
An old woman was sweeping, dusting, and arranging the room, profiting by
the absence of its mistress to do this household work, for there was no
one else to be seen in the room, and yet it was clear it was not she who
inhabited it. All at once the head of the greyhound--whose great eyes
had been wandering till then, with the aristocratic indifference
characteristic of that animal--became animated. She leaned her head
over into the street; then, with a miraculous lightness and address,
jumped on to the window-sill, pricking up her long-ears, and raising one
of her paws. The chevalier understood by these signs that the tenant of
the little room was approaching. He opened his window directly;
unfortunately it was already too late, the street was solitary.
At the same moment the greyhound leaped from the window into the room
and ran to the door. D'Harmental concluded that the young lady was
mounting the stairs. In order to see her at his ease, he threw himself
back and hid behind the curtain, but the old woman came to the window
and closed it. The chevalier did not expect this denouement. There was
nothing for him but to close his window also, and to come back and put
his feet on the hobs. This was not amusing, and the chevalier began to
feel how solitary he should be in this retreat. He remembered that
formerly he also used to play and draw, and he thought that if he had
the smallest spinet and some chalks, he could bear it with patience.
He rang for the porter, and asked where he could procure these things.
The porter replied that every increase of furniture must be at his own
expense. That if he wished for a harpsichord he must hire it, and that
as to pencils, he could get them at the shop at the corner of the Rue de
Clery.
D'Harmental gave a double louis to the porter, telling him that in half
an hour he wished to have a spinet and some pencils. The double louis
was an argument of which he had before found the advantage; reproaching
himself, however, with having used it this time with a carelessness
which gave the lie to his apparent position, he recalled the porter, and
told him that he expected for his double louis to have, not only paper
and pencils, but a month's hire of his instrument.
The porter replied that as he would speak as if it were for himself, the
thing was possible; but that he must certainly pay the carriage.
D'Harmental consented, and half an hour afterward was in possession of
the desired objects. Such a wonderful place is Paris for every enchanter
with a golden wand. The porter, when he went down, told his wife that if
the new lodger was not more careful of his money, he would ruin his
family, and showed her two crowns of six francs, which he had saved out
of the double louis. The woman took the two crowns from the hands of her
husband, calling him a drunkard, and put them into a little bag, hidden
under a heap of old clothes, deploring the misfortune of fathers and
mothers who bleed themselves to death for such good-for-nothings. This
was the funeral oration of the chevalier's double louis.