THE GODFATHER.
"We accept with pleasure," said the strangers, and they followed the
host into the house. The door of the room where the guests were
assembled was open, and the strangers, with a self-possession which
proved them to be of the aristocracy, walked in and mingled at once in
the conversation.
"Allow me, gentlemen," said the host, when he had greeted the remainder
of his guests, "allow me to present you to Madame Etienne. She will he
proud to receive two such distinguished strangers in her house to-day."
Madame Etienne, with a woman's practised eye, saw at once that these
unknown guests, who were so perfectly unembarrassed and yet so
courteous, must belong to the very first ranks of society; and she was
happy to be able to show off her savoir vivre before the rest of the
company.
She received the two travellers with much grace and affability; and
whereas the curates were to have been placed beside her at table, she
assigned them to her husband, and invited the strangers to the seats
instead. She informed them of the names and station of every person
present, and then related to them how the winter previous, at the ball
of the sub-prefect, she had danced the whole evening, while some of the
prettiest girls in the room had wanted partners.
The gentlemen listened with obliging courtesy, and appeared deeply
interested. The blue-eyed stranger, however, mingled somewhat in the
general conversation. He spoke with the burgomaster from Solanges of the
condition of his town, with the curates of their congregations, and
seemed interested in the prosperity of French manufactures, about which
much was said at table.
All were enchanted with the tact and affability of the strangers.
Monsieur Etienne was highly elated, and as for madame, her paleness had
been superseded by a becoming flush, and she never once complained of
over-exertion.
The dinner over, the company assembled for the baptism. It was to take
place in the parlor, where a table covered with a fine white cloth, a
wax-candle, some flowers, a crucifix, and an improvised font, had been
arranged for the occasion.
The noble stranger gave his arm to Madame Etienne. "Madame," said he,
"may I ask of you the favor of standing godfather to your son?"
Madame Etienne blushed with pleasure, and replied that she would be most
grateful for the honor.
"In this way," thought she, "we shall find out his name and rank."
The ceremony began. The curate spoke a few impressive words as to the
nature of the sacrament, and then proceeded to baptize the infant. The
water was poured over its head, and at last came the significant
question: "What is the name of the godfather?" All eyes were turned upon
him, and Madame Etienne's heart beat hard, for she expected to hear the
word "count" at the very least.
"My name?" said he. "Joseph."
"Joseph," repeated the priest. "Joseph--and the surname?"
"I thought Joseph would be enough," said the stranger, with some
impatience.
"No, sir," replied the priest. "The surname, too, must be registered in
the baptismal records."
"Very well then--Joseph the Second."
"The Second?" echoed the curate, with a look of mistrust. "The SECOND!
Is that your surname?"
"Yes, my name is 'The Second.'"
"Well, be it so," returned the curate, with a shrug. "Joseph--
the--Second. Now, what is your profession--excuse me, sir, but I ask the
customary questions."
The stranger looked down and seemed almost confused. The curate mildly
repeated his question. "What is your profession, or your station, sir?"
"Emperor of Austria," replied Joseph, smiling.
A cry of astonishment followed this announcement. The pencil with which
the priest was about to record the "profession" of the godfather fell
from his hands. Madame Etienne in her ecstasy fell almost fainting into
an arm-chair, and Monsieur Etienne, taking the child from the arms of
the nurse, came and knelt with it at the emperor's feet.
This was the signal for a renewal of life and movement in the room. All
followed the example of the host, and in one moment old and young, men
and women, were on their knees.
"Your majesty," said Etienne, in a voice choked with tears, "you have
made my child famous. For a hundred years the honor you have conferred
upon him will be the wonder of our neighborhood, and never will the
people of Vitry forget the condescension of your majesty in sitting
among us as an equal and a guest. My son is a Frenchman at heart he
shall also be a German, like our own beautiful queen, who is both
Austrian and French. God bless and preserve you both! Long live our
queen, Marie Antoinette, and long live her noble brother, the Emperor of
Austria!"
The company echoed the cry, and their shouts aroused Madame Etienne, who
arose and advanced toward her imperial visitor. He hastened to replace
her gently in her arm-chair.
"Where people are bound together by the ties of parent and god-father,"
said he, "there must be no unnecessary ceremony. Will you do me one
favor, madame?"
"Sire, my life is at your majesty's disposal."
"Preserve and treasure it, then, for the sake of my godson. And since
you are willing to do me the favor," continued he, drawing from his
bosom a snuff-box richly set with diamonds, "accept this as a
remembrance of my pleasant visit to you to-day. My portrait is upon the
lid, and as I am told that all the lovely women in France take snuff
perhaps you will take your snuff from a box which I hope will remind you
of the giver.
"And now," continued the emperor, to the happy Monsieur Etienne, "as I
have been admitted to the christening, perhaps you will accommodate me
with a pair of horses with which I may proceed to the next stage."