^ LIBRARY ^ UNIVCftSlTY OF CAUK>I>NIA SAN OIC0O presented to the UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO by Mrs. Townsend UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 3 1822 00317 1774 •^ -I £S THE ROMANCES OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS. CUustrateft iLtbrarg Edition. New Series, II. — Vol. V. SYLYAIS'DIKE. Jeeiy^nfi^-^. Jc Monsieur de Royancour/'s Note. ^Ijc liomanccs; of 0lrranDrc HDuma0. NEW SERIES. — II. SYLVANDIRE. BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS. BOSTON; LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1898. Copyright, 1897, By Little, Bkown, and Company. All rights reserved. STljis EBitton is ILimttfli to ©ne ^Tljousanli doptes. N0....U2A.Z University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. INTRODUCTORY NOTE. " The reign of Louis XIV.," says M. Arsfene Hous- saye,^ " is divided into three periods, dominated by three influences, — three stars, three women. "The first is the epoch of half-Spanish, half- French gallantry. It is personified in Mademoiselle de la Vallifere. . . . " The second period of the reign is symbolized by Madame de Montespan, . . . who exults in being queen by grace of Love. With her opens the mili- tary epic, the era of conquest. The tendency is to materialism of the heart, to paganism of sentiment. ... It is the age of action, of maturity, of strength. Everything yields to the victorious king, — • citadels and women. " The third and last part of the reign is summed up in Madame de Maintenon. Sensual mysticism has replaced the pomp and activity of the old court. The dying century becomes a hermit, glory takes the veil. . . . Louis XIV., that king over whom a woman reigns, droops slowly toward his grave. . . . Madame de Maintenon is the hand by which the Gallican church sways the old age of Louis XIV. 1 " Galerie du XVIIP' Siecle. — La Eegence " VI INTRODUCTORY NOTE. Quietism offends the shrewd, powerful, intriguing woman, who bears, not without dignity, the weight of the crown. That uncrowned queen gives its shape, as they said in those days, to the close of the reign. . . . Everything assumes the mask of piety." And again he says : " If his youth was imprisoned in the dense forest of the passions, as Saint Augus- tine hath it, his old age was confined behind bolts and bars in an impenetrable citadel, of which Scar- rou's widow was the keeper. There are no more abject slaves than tyrants." It would be easy to multiply authorities in sup- port of the accuracy of the picture drawn by Dumas in these pages of the state of society in the first decade of the eighteenth century, when, under the leadership of the incompetent generals who owed their commissions to their subservience to " Scar- rou's widow," France was struggling on, from defeat to defeat, from Blenheim to Eamillies and Turin and Oudenarde and Malplaquet, through the bloody, dis- astrous years of the War of the Spanish Succession. It was the period of the "goA'ernment of the saints." ^ From the fall of Louvois in 1691, Madame de Maintenon's influence was practically unlim- ited and unshared until after the crushing disaster of Blenheim (1704), when she was obliged to come to terms, and, to some extent, share her power with the Due de Bourgogne, and his governors, the Dues de Chevreuse and de Beauvilliers, and with the king's confessor, " a hard-hearted, atrabilious old 1 Michelet. INTRODUCTOEY NOTE, Vll villain, Yhre Tellier, whose bitter gall made the whites of his squinting eyes yellow." Versailles was a gloomy place during the suprem- acy of Madame de Maintenon and her Jesuit allies, and that supremacy endured until the death of the king in 1715, when the accession to power of the pleasure-loving, easy-going Eegent inaugurated an era of license and immorality. Not only was the power of the favorite shown in the repression of gayety and amusement in every form, but her favor and that of the ultra-religious faction counted for vastly more than the patronage of the greatest nobles in the distribution of lucrative offices and of commissions in the army and navy. However great a man's merit might be, his chance of prefer- ment or promotion was small, unless he were re- signed to the necessity of going to Versailles with a sanctimonious expression on his face, and kissing La Maintenon's withered hand. The episode of the chevalier's arrest and impris- onment is entirely consistent with the customs of the time. The history of the Bastile is full of in- stances which vouch for its probability. It will be remembered that the one fact which more than any other drew the attention of the Parisian populace to the grim old fortress in 1789 was the recent release of one Latude, who had been confined there for more than forty years upon no ascertainable charge, but presumably to gratify the enmity of some powerful family or individual. During the first fifteen years of the eighteenth century no more heinous offence could be committed than to speak 7111 INTRODUCTORY NOTE. or write slightingly of the old king's unacknowl- edged wife, nor could any surer way of ruining an enemy be devised than to bring to her notice evi- dence of such sacrilege. In his "Mdmoires" (vol. 9), Dumas tells us of his first venture in the domain of historical romance. Soon after the founding of the "Revue des Deux Mondes,"^ he contributed to that periodical certain " Scenes Historiques " relating to the reign of Charles VI., adapted from Barante's "Histoire des Dues de Bourgogne," and afterwards published under the title "Isabel de Bavi^re." He tells us that he was utterly ignorant of French history until he read Barante's book, but that the success of his " Scenes Historiques," which made one of the first successes of the "Revue des Deux Mondes," led him to decide to write a series of romances extending from the reign of Charles VI. to our own time. How nearly he accomplished his design the volumes previously published in this series will sufficiently show. There is, however, a hiatus be- tween the conclusion of the "Vicomte de Brage- lonne"2 and the "Chevalier d'Harmental," the action of which takes place in the early years of the Regency, about 1717. That hiatus the pres- ent volume serves partially to fill. ^ In 18.30 or 1831 the periodical called "Journal des Voyages" was purchased by M. Buloz and others, who changed its name as well as its character, and called it the " Revue des Deux Mondes." 2 The death of D'Artagnan seems to have occurred between 1680 and 1690. LIST OF CHARACTERS. Period, 1708-1716. Louis XIV., King of France. Madame de Mainxenon. Marquis de Royancourt, a favorite of Madame de Mainteuon. Pere Letellier. Baron Agenor Palamede d'Anguilhem. La Baronne CornI;lie Athenais d'Anguilhem, his wife. Chevalier Roger Tancrede d'Anguilhem, their son. Abbe Dubuquoi, tutor to the Chevalier. The Mother Superior of the Convent of the Augustines, the Chevalier's aunt. VicoMTE DE BouzENOis, a relative of Baron d'Anguilhem, Madame de Bouzenois, his wife, a native of Malabar. Monsieur Afghano, her son, an East Indian. Marquis de Chemille, 1 Monsieur Gantry, r friends of Baron d'Anguilhem. Monsieur de Birgarou, ) VicoMTE de Beuzerie, a neighbor of Baron d'Anguilhem. Madame de Beuzerie, his wife. Constance de Beuzerie, their daughter, in love with the Chevalier. Mademoiselle Herminie de Narcey, friend to Constance. Henri de Narcey, her brother. The CuRi of La Chapelle Saint-Hippolyte. Maitre Coquenard, attorney to Baron d'Anguilhem. Marquis de Crette, friend to the Chevalier. X LIST OF CHARACTERS. ViCOMTE D'IIerBIGNY, ^ COMTE m CilASTKLLUX, / ^^-^^^^^ ^^ ^^ -^ ^^ ^^.^^^^ Monsieur de liiivii.LE, I ClIEVALlEK DE CluS- UeNAUI), ) Basc^ue, valet tu iMarquis dc Crette. iiUISJULl, ^ Kameau-d'oh, > bcrvauts to the Marquis. Petitpas, J BiiETON, servant to the Chevalier. Messieuks de KoLLiNSKi, Hungarian gentlemen. COMTE DE GoRKAUN, ?.!•<•• j T, ? their iriends. Monsieur de Bardane, > Mademoiselle Poussette, of the Comedie-Franpaise. Maitre Branchu, > j i ,. , ^^ > advocates. Maitre Verniquet, > Maitre Jean Amedee Bouteau, conseiller-rapporieur. Christine Sylvandire Bouteau, his daughter. The Governor of Por-l'^v^que. CoMTE d'Olibarus, a prisoner at Por-l'Iilveque and the Bastile. Monsieur Voyer d'Argenson, lieutenant of police. An Agent of Maitre Bouteau. A Sardinian Broker. A Tunisian Corsair. Mesdemoisell^ Marie and Gothon, servants in the household of Baron d'Anguilheni. Lajeunesse, the Baron d'Anguilhem's gamekeeper. ILLUSTRATIONS. Monsieur de Royancouut's Note .... Frontispiece Drawn by J. Wagrez, etched by Teauuin. Louis XIV Page 282 From an old engraving. Madame de Maintenon 322 From an old engraving. CONTENTS. Chapteb Page I. The Chevalier Roger Tancrede d'Angtjilhem AND HIS Family, in the Year of Our Lord 1708 1 II. How the Chevalier d'Anguilhem, whom some of the Dames of Loches and its Vicinity called "Handsome Roger," others, "Hand- some Tancrede," discovered that he had a Heart 21 III. How the Chevalier d'Anguilhem, discovering THAT He had a Heart, wished to be as- sured THAT Mademoiselle de Beuzerie also HAD One 36 IV. In which the Author demonstrates that Fathers and Mothers of Daughters in Convents can sleep on Both Ears ... 54 V. How THE Chevalier d'Anguilhem escaped FROM THE College of the Jesuits at Am- BOisE, with the Intention of carrying off Mademoiselle de Beuzerie, and what News he learned on beaching the Convent . . 72 VI. In which we are told that the Chevalier d'Anguilhem was so overwhelmed with Grief at the Death of Mademoiselle de Beuzerie th^t He resolved to become a Jesuit 92 XIV CONTENTS. C'HAl'TER PaOK \ ii. llow Madejioisklle de Beuzeeie appeared HEFOKE THE ClIEVALIER d'AnGUILHEM TO DISSUADE IllM FROM TAKING THE VoWS . 104 VIII. How IT WAS LEARNED AT AngUILHEM AND AT BeUZEUIE that THE ViCOMTE DE BOUZENOIS, Ex-CaPTAIN of THE Frigate Thetis, had Died Intestate, and WHAT Modification the News wrought in the Plans of the Two Families . . 115 IX. How AND on what Terms the Marriage of Mademoiselle de Beuzekie with the Chevalier d'Anguilhem came near being arranged by their Next of Kin . . . 127 X. How THE Chevalier d'Anguilhem made his Entry into Society 140 XI. How the Chevalier profits by the Fen- cing Lessons given Him by the Baron d'Anguilhem, his Father 161 XII. How the Chevalier d'Anguilhem becomes acquainted with the Son of the East Indian, and the Kind of Person he finds Him to be 175 XIII. How, just as the Chevalier had fallen a Prey to the Profoundest Despair, a Stranger visited Him to make a Propo- sition not expected by Him, nor by the Reader 192 XIV. How the Mysterious Man appears a Sec- ond Time, and how, in this Second In- terview, Matters seem a little clearer 201 XV. How the Judgment was given 215 XVI. How the Chevalier d'Anguilhem philo- sophically resigns Himself to a Pretty Wife, a Magnificent Hotel, and an In- come OF Seventy-five Thousand Livres 227 XVII. How THE Chevalier found Himself in such Luck that he was ready, like CONTENTS. XV iHAPTES Page POLYCRATES, THE TyKANT OF SaMOS, TO CAST A Ring into the Sea .... 23G XVin. How THE Conjugal Horizon of the Cheva- lier d'Anguilhem gradually clouded OVER 246 XIX. How the Conjugal Horizon of the Cheva- lier d'Anguilhem grew suddenly TEMPESTUOUS o ... 257 XX. Finding that Permission to leave is not GRANTED HiM, THE ChEVALIER d'AnGUIL- HEM resolves TO LEAVE WITHOUT PER- MISSION 269 XXI. How THE King neglected to repair the Injustice done the Chevalier d'An- guilhem, AND WHAT followed . . . 282 XXII. How THE King at last remembers the Chevalier d'Anguilhem, and what COMES OF It 297 XXIII. How THE Chevalier d'Anguilhem went FROM THE BaSTILE TO THE CHATEAU DE ChaLON-SUR-SaONE, and MADE THE Journey in Company with an Officer OF VERY Sprightly Character . . . 316 XXIV. How the Chevalier d'Anguilhem becomes as Wise and as Wary as had been the Late Comte d'Olibarus 328 XXV. How the Chevalier d'Anguilhem set Fire TO HIS Hotel to find out whether He was or was not what He feared . 342 XXVI. How Hoger and Sylvandire made a Charming Excursion to Provence, and WHAT came of It 357 XXVII. How THE Chevalier d'Anguilhem learned THAT HIS Father had not delivered TO Mademoiselle de Eeuzerie the Letter restoring her Freedom, and what came of It . . . .... 372 XVI CONTENTS. Cbafteb Paob XXVIII. How TiTK Chevalier d'Anguilhem and Mademoiselle Constance de Bedzerie find tuemselves moke in love than ever, and some of the perplexities INTO WHICH Roger is thereby plunged 385 XXIX How the Persian Ambassador, Mehemet RiZA Beg, came to Paris to present THE Respectful Compliments of uis Sovereign to Louis XIV., and how THE Chevalier d'Anguiliiem was con- strained TO pay a Visit to that Il- lustrious Personage 398 XXX. How the Marquis de Crette negotiated Matters in the Name of the Cheva- lier d'Anguilhem, and brought this Entire Story to a most Unexpected Issue 412 Conclusion 425 SYLVANDIRE. I. THE CHEVALIER ROGER TANCR^DE d'ANGUILHEM AND HIS FAMILY IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1708. In a work much more serious than this one pretends to be, we have shown how the French nobility were marked for destruction by three men : Louis XI. , Richelieu, Kobespierre. Louis XI. felled the feudal lords, Richelieu laid low the grandees, Robespierre cut down the aristocracy. The first paved the way for the centralized monarchy, the second for the absolute monarchy, the third for the constitutional monarchy. But, as the events we are about to relate took place between the years 1708 and 1716, we shall permit history to appraise, under their social bearings, the work of the forester king and the acts and deeds of the guillotining tribune, and merely cast a swift glance over the condition of Paris and the country at large seventy years after the death of Richelieu, that is, at the beginning of the eighteenth century. In saying Paris, we mistake, — we should say Ver- sailles, for at that period Paris was forgotten. Louis XIV. had never been able to pardon the capital for 1 2 SYLVANDIRE. having cast liiin, child as lie was, from her hosom dur- ing one of thfi stormy days of the Fronde, and as, in his fulness of miglit, he took the same pleasure in avenging himself upon things as upon men, he had created Ver- sailles, — that unworthy favorite, as it was then called, that gigantic piece of folly, as it will in all times be called, — with intent to punish the old Louvre for its old-time rebellion by withdrawing his royal presence. So Versailles, from the day when Louis XIV. trans- ferred his residence thitlier, was the luminous centre of the realm, the torch about which all the gilded moths called courtiers gatliered to scorch their wings, the sun which rose on the world, not less resplendent than others, and whose light and power must increase as it advanced.^ Thus, the concentration of immeasurable splendor upon Versailles reduced the rest of the kingdom to dark- ness. All that did not revolve around the supreme star seemed to belong to an inferior system, an unknown vortex not worth while for the political astronomers of the time to investigate; as a result, during the seventy- three years that the reign of Louis XIV. endured, the history of Versailles is pretty nearl}' the history of France. Consequently, in the magnificent gallery opened up by the memoirs of that period to the curiosity of read- ers, one reviews nothing but great fortunes and great failures. We follow the rise of Louvois, of Villars, of d'Argenson, of Colbert, and the fall of Eohan, of Kiche- lieu, of Lauzun, and the Guises; but, as for the brave and loyal nobility of the provinces that formerly consti- tuted the strength of the monarchy, which under ^ Nee })Iuribus impar and Vires acrjuirit eundo formed the double device of the sun which Louis XIV. had taken for his arms. CHEVALIEK D'ANGUILHEM AND FAMILY. 3 Duguesclin haut, although Rogor Tancrt^de continued to .advance, he still .saw nothing save the shadows of tlic clouds as they floated across the moon and, for the moment, ob- scured his path as with a dark veil. He stopped to listen from time to time, and heard only the rushing of the wind through the trees; then, with a sigh, he would turn his head toward Anguilhem, where he could see in the distance through the branches the brilliantly lighted windows of the chateau. At that sight, he felt sorely tempted to draw rein and return, saying that he had seen nothing; but he reflected that it was not even ten min- utes since he had started out, and that his father had told him to search for an hour. Thereupon he again plucked up courage, and again whipped up Christo- pher and set off" at a gallop, to the great amazement of the poor beast who, ordinarily serving as the baron's mount, was with him in the habit of taking a gait that was infinitely more sedate. Suddenly Roger thought he heard a cry of distress two or three hundred paces in advance; at the cry, the horse stopped of his own accord, sniffing the air noisily with his smoking nostrils. The chevalier looked about him. He was in a hollow, lonely and boggy, on a narrow roadway beside some deep clay-pits. The cry was dismal, the night uncanny; Roger shuddered. However, we must say to the credit of the heir of the name and title of d' Anguilhem, the sentiment of fear experienced by the chevalier was short-lived, and was instantly gone upon the reflection that he must be of service to those who had uttered that appeal for help. He again urged Christopher into a gallop, shouting at the top of his voice, — " Ho ! where are you ? who called 1 " " This way, this way! " answered a voice, nearer than THE CHEVALIER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS A HEART. 25 before, and seeming to issue from the depths of the earth. " On which side ? " demanded Koger, still advancing. "To the left of the road, in the marl-pit; this way farther, — here, just under where you now are." Roger pulled up Christopher and peered through the darkness which had become thicker from the disap- pearance of the moon behind the clouds. He thought he could descry something moving fifteen feet below him. " Can it be you, Monsieur de Beuzerie 1 " he asked. "Yes, yes, it is I, chevalier," returned the voice; " in heaven's name get us out of this. Our carriage went over in going too near the edge, and we are sunken in the marl." " Help, Monsieur Eoger! " cried a woman's voice. " Help ! " repeated the voice of a girl. "Ah! poor Monsieur de Beuzerie!" cried Eoger; " wait, wait, I will come." And he leaped down from Christopher. Then he heard a frightful ado, which the trampling of his own horse had until then prevented his hearing, and which, upon Christopher's halt, now distinctly reached his ear. A horse was splashing about in the muddy water of the pit into which he was plunged up to the stomach. The old coach, as Monsieur de Beuzerie said, had slipped from the road- way down the embankment and fallen quite flat; but, thanks to the depth of the box and the softness of the mud, the fall had injured no one. Madame de Beuzerie had at first thought proper to faint away, but at Roger's voice, she had come to her- self again. As for her daughter Constance, she had borne the fall with great courage. Of course Monsieur de Beuzerie, who was unhurt, had entertained fears only for his wife and daughter. 26 SYLVANDIKE. Believing no time was to be lost, the Chevalier Roger Tancrede slid down the declivity until he reached the coach. He then called on the coachman to come to his assistance; hut the coachman had gone in search of help in the neighborhood, and he called in vain. The young man then resolved alone to extricate Monsieur, Madame, and Mademoiselle de Beuzerie; the merit would 1x3 the greater. Consequently, he began by opening the door and releasing Mademoiselle Constance de Beuzerie, whom her mother held out to him like the mother who, in the picture of the flood, holds her child above the waters. Roger took Mademoiselle de Beuzerie and deposited her upon the bank as easily as if she had been a bird. Then came the turn of the viscountess; this was a more difficult matter. The viscountess was what in the provinces is styled a fine woman, that is, she was a plump matron, very attractive still, of five feet one inch in height, fat in proportion, weighing, perhaps, one hundred and sixty or one hundred and seventy pounds. However, mustering all his strength, Roger succeeded in pulling her up, while the viscount aided from below, and, in a few seconds, he had her deposited safe and sound beside her daughter. There remained Monsieur de Beuzerie, who was far from presenting the same difficulties as his wife. A tall, spare man, still lusty and active, he was out of his coach in a twinkling, and, without Roger's help, sprang up the bank, where he joined the rest of his family. Roger, for whom there was nothing more to do at the coach, immediately followed Monsieur de Beuzerie, Avith whom he exchanged many compliments, while the two ladies overwhelmed him with thanks and courtesies. And still the coachman had not returned. They called him in vain; their shouts Avere wasted on soli- THE CHEVALIER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS A HEART. 27 tude, and only the screecli-owls and the hoot-owls an- swered , as if in mockery of the poor travellers. Roger, whose stomach grew more and more famished, increasing his impatience, suggested that they should not wait for the coachman, wlio in all likelihood would return quite alone; and he began to unhitch the mired horse, which, in a trice, was on the bank only a few steps distant from his masters. The only question now was how to reach the chateau. This matter, which at first sight appeared very simple, was, in reality, complicated by circumstances, as we shall see. There were two horses for accomplishing the undertaking; as for the coach, it was not to be thought of. It would take seven or eight men to set it, not to say, on its feet, but on its wheels. There were, then, two horses, we repeat; but one of the two was covered with mud. Roger first proposed to Monsieur de Beuzerie that he himself should lead Christopher by the bridle, while the viscountess and her daughter should mount his back, and that Monsieur de Beuzerie should bestride his own horse. But Christopher, still quite excited by his race, whinneying and pawing the earth, seemed to the two ladies to be a little too restive, and the proposition was rejected. Roger next suggested riding with Madame de Beu- zerie upon Christopher, for whom he would answer when he himself was on his back, while the viscount and his daughter should ride the other horse. But, as we have said, the other horse was covered with mud, and the viscountess whispered to her husband that if that plan were adopted, Constance woiild spoil her lovely new gown of pekin. Hence that plan was rejected like the first. Finally it was decided that Madame de Beuzerie, 28 SYLVANDIRE. Imving Ics-s at stake on account of licr gown tlian Made- moiselle Constance, should witli her husband mount the coach horse, upon whose hack they placed Christopher's saddle, while the Chevalier Roger Tancrede, who was a perfect horseman, sliould mount Christopher bareback and take jNIademoisidle Constance up bcliind him. They proceeded to put into execution this plan which was yet to receive a slight modification. ^lonsieur de Beuzerie mounted the horse first; then Koger lifted Madame de Beuzerie and established her in majesty behind her spouse. Thus far, all worked like a charm; but, having reached this point, the remainder of the plan presented a little difficulty. If Koger Tancrede got on the horse first, Mademoiselle Constance would in that case have no one to help her mount behind him; while, on the other hand, if the Chevalier Roger Tancrede first placed Mademoiselle Constance behind, then he in turn could not mount the horse except by executing some extravagant gymnastic feat, throwing his leg over Christopher's head instead of his tail. They searched on all sides for a bank, a mile-stone, a fallen tree ; there Avas nothing. At last, his famished stomach spurring him on, the Chevalier Roger Tancrede devised a plan: it was that he should mount behind Mademoiselle Constance, whom he would then clasp in his arms instead of being clasped in hers. Such a course was doubtless somewhat imconventional, and at the proposition the father and mother both knit their brows; but the viscountess inclined to the vis- count's ear and whispered, — " Never mind, my dear! it must be done, and, after all, they are but two children." "Mount, then, as you will," said Monsieur de Beu- zerie, " for indeed we must proceed." THE CHEVALIER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS A HEART. 29 "Mademoiselle, allow me?" said Koger. And like a feather he lifted up the slight little sylph called Mademoiselle Constauce, and was almost as soon on the crupper behind her. Mademoiselle Constance uttered a pretty little shriek, very terrified, but not very terrifying, to which the viscount, full of parental and prudish fears, responded with, " What is the matter ? " "Nothing, monsieur, nothing," returned Roger. "Just as I sprang up, mademoiselle lost her balance; now I have her in my arms and there is no danger." "In your arms, inorhleu! your arms! " muttered the viscount. " Hush, my dear," remonstrated the viscountess, " you will put ideas into the children's heads that certainly are not there now." ** Let us say no more," said the viscount. And he applied his heels to such purpose that his horse set off at a gentle trot. Christopher followed on behind. However, let us hasten to say that the viscount's fears, if exaggerated, were not without foundation. Scarcely had the Chevalier Tancrede felt Mademoiselle Constance leaning against his heart, before his heart began to throb as it had never yet throbbed. For her part, the young girl, who, reared in a convent until then, was riding a horse for the first time, trembled with fear, and, whether she herself was experiencing an unknown pleasure, or whether, indeed, in her primitive innocence fear really triumphed over conventionalism, she clasped to her breast the hand with which the young man was holding her, turning from time to time to appeal to him, — "Oh! Monsieur le Chevalier, hold me more firmly, 30 SYLVANDIRE. more firmly still! Oh! IMon.sieur Ic Chevalier, T am so afraid ! Oh! ]\Ionsieur le Chevalier, I am going to fall — " And every time that she turned, her fair locks brushed the young man's face, her beautiful eyes met his, her sweet breath mingled with his, with the result that poor Roger forgot his increasing hunger, and he would have had the journey last forever, he felt such a strange sense of comfort, such unknown pleasure, sucli inexplicable delight stealing through all his being, such expansion of bosom. Every sighing tree, every moonbeam as it gently caressed hira seemed breathing in his ear, " Are you not happy , Roger 1 " Yes, the chevalier was happy, and, without knowing why, Mademoiselle Constance also was happy. In her fear there was a charming little intermixture of pleasure for which she did not account, although she told herself that she had never been so agreeably frightened, and that fear was a sensation full of delicious emotions, in short, a misjudged thing until then, and, consequently, calumniated like all misjudged things. It was while enjoying this happiness, ill-defined in their minds but profoundly appreciated in their hearts, that the two young people reached the Chateau d' Anguil- hem. The horses' hoofs had been heard by all the guests. A famished stomach has no ears, it is said. Strange mistake ! A famished stomach is, on the con- trary, all ears, and very sharp ears at that. Everybody ran out to the steps, and the viscount, the viscountess, Mademoiselle Constance, and Roger were received with a blaze of torches, not unlike sovereigns returning to their own dominions, and for whom the royal residence has been illuminated. The baron extended his arms to the viscountess, who, THE CHEVALIER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS A HEART. 31 thanks to their support, decorouslj' reached the ground. The viscount solemnly dismounted as if to beat of dn;m, as a horseman ought to dismount. As for Roger, he made but one bound, took Mademoiselle Constance under the arms with both hands, lifted her like a feather, and set her gently on the ground, so gently that not even a sound was heard as the girl's two little feet met the flags. Then it was, by the light of the torches, that Roger first had a good look at Constance, whom thus far he had but guessed at. What of Constance ? Ravish- ing blue eyes, blonde hair that looked like fluffs of silk, a mouth like a cherry, a neck like a swan's, a sylph- like form, — such was Mademoiselle da Beuzerie. A cloud of flame swept before Roger's eyes, and he felt as if he should die of joy. Without daring to offer his hand, he followed Made- moiselle Constance, who, as soon as she was free from Christopher, had blushingly executed a pretty convent courtesy before her cavalier and gone with her mother; but, strange to say, already his heart, so happy and full a moment ago, was seized with a stricture. It seemed as if the young girl were lost to him. And Roger, poor Roger, the young man whose robust appetite had become proverbial, sat down to the table without the least desire to eat. However, a great triumph awaited Roger. Their clamorous hunger had immediately assembled the guests in the dining-room; but the first course was barely removed before conversation, in subjection, at first, to their appetites, began to rise in the shape of interrogations. They asked the cause of Monsieur de Beuzerie 's delay, and inquired why that worthy gen- tleman, who should have come in his carriage, had arrived on horseback instead. 32 SYLVANDIRE. Then Monsieur de Beuzerie detailed tlio whole ad- venture, presented the Chevalier Roger Tancrede as his rescuer, extullcil his zeal and the judgment displayed by him, notwithstanding his youth. The eulogies of Madame de Beuzerie surpassed those of her husband. Mademoiselle Constance alone said nothing, but she blushed furiously and cast a shy glance at Ivoger. Roger, who had not for an instant taken his eyes from her, remarked the blush and intercepted the glance; and, without knowing why, he felt that look and blush did him good. No other subject was discussed during the dinner, and by dessert, the Chevalier Roger Tancrede was regarded by the guests as the deliverer of the whole family in general, and of Mademoiselle Constance in particular. Mademoiselle Constance and the Chevalier Roger Tancrede were therefore feted as the two prodigies of the evening, and feted in the manner of that happy time of politeness and good fellowship. Indeed, in those days, it seemed as if all wished to make life smooth and pleasant for the novices who were just setting foot upon society's threshold. "Women made advances to the school-boy still in the hands of his tutor. Men strove to please heiresses yet captive behind the gratings of their convents. They came from school-room or college, the young men to talk of love, and the maidens to hear it talked of. Those were happy days, when the lads had not yet taken it into their heads to talk politics while spinning their tops, and girls did not dream of discussing ethics while dressing and undressing their dolls. In the depths of his heart. Monsieur d'Anguilhem was delighted at the importance with which the adven- ture of the marsh was investing his son. Above all, in THE CHEVALIER DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS A HEART. 33 his plans for the future, the baron was seeking an estab- lishment for his son, and Mademoiselle Constance, who at the death of her father and mother would inherit an income of six thousand francs, was in every way a suit- able match for the chevalier. Beuzerie and Anguilhem could then he united by purchasing three or four leagues of marsh which could be had for little, delightful hunt- ing-grounds, but which were otherwise perfectly useless, and two or three small pieces of woodland lying between them here and there ; and all together would form one of the noblest baronies of Touraine. The children born of that marriage would thus own valley and mountain as their ancestors had owned them at the height of their prosperity. That would be a fine thing; it would be grand, magnificent. The worthy baron was in high good humor throughout the meal, and he sang at dessert. But, very different from the baron, and as if he must have divined the plans of that ambitious father, Mon- sieur de Beuzerie, who had at first seated himself at the table with an air of imposing dignity, drew himself up more and more as the dinner neared its close, sign- ing to his wife that she, too, should assume the defen- sive, a manoeuvre which the vicountess executed, it should be added, with a conjugal understanding worthy of the highest eulogy. More than that: as the young people had been placed side by side, and as, instead of eating as became children of from twelve to fifteen years, they talked in the low tones that lovers might have used, Monsieur and Madame de Beuzerie over- whelmed their daughter with threatening glances, to which at first Constance paid no attention, occupied as she was with something else; but tliey at last took effect, throwing the girl into a state of anguish, the more 3 34 SYLVANDIRE. poignant owing to her utter ignorance of the cause of her parents' wrath. And so, no sooner were they risen from table than Madame de Beuzeric took her daughter l)y the liand and made her sit beside her, wliile Monsieur de 13ou- zerie, after announcing that he wished to get home the same night, set out to learn something about his coach. Monsieur de Beuzci'ie came Ixick in despair. His coachman had returned dead-drunk, and the coach was still daintily embedded in the marsh; then, as polite- ness very naturally demanded, the baron and the baroness offered their neighbors a room in the chateau. But this proposition, which, moreover, Avas nothing unusual, Monsieur de Beuzerie so promptly negatived that tlie baron was forced to pass on to another sugges- tion. This was to put the viscount's horse to the baron's cart; by this means, Monsieur, Madame, and Mademoiselle de Beuzerie could regain their own chateau that evening, as they seemed so desirous of doing. The next morning, Monsieur d'Anguilhem's people would extricate the coach from the marsh, hitch Christopher to it, and Christopher should take the coach to Beuzerie and bring back the cart. This plan was enthusiastically approved by the vis- countess and the viscount, to the great despair of Made- moiselle Constance and the Chevalier Roger Tancrede, between whom a poor little tearful glance was exchanged for a stifled sigh, an interchange which, happily, was not surprised by the girl's inflexible parents. A quarter of an hour after the matter had been decided, it was announced that the viscount's horse had been put to the baron's cart. They must go then. The poor children had seen each other two hours ago for the first time, but it seemed to THE CHEVALIER DISCOVEKS THAT HE HAS A HEART. 35 tliem that they had known each other from infancy. The baron and the viscount shook hands; Madame d'Anguilhem and Madame de Beuzerie embraced; Con- stance made a beautiful courtesy to all the company, and cast a very sorrowful glance at the Chevalier Roger Tancrede. Then all three got into the cart, the horse set off, and then folloAved the diminishing sound of wheels and bells, and soon the sound died quite away. Roger did not return to the salon with the rest of the company. Roger had remained at the threshold of the house-door ; from the threshold of the house-door he had run to the court-gate, and there he had stood, sad and motionless, his eyes fixed on the vanishing cart, in which direction he kept on gazing even long after it had dis- appeared from sight. Doubtless he would have been found there the next morning had he not felt a touch upon his shoulder. It was his tutor, Abbe Dubuquoi, who came to say that a longer absence from the salon would be considered rude by the remaining guests. Roger furtively brushed away two great tears that were falling from his eyes, and followed his instructor. 36 SYLVANDIRE. III. HOW THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM, DISCOVERING THAT HE HAD A HEART, WISHED TO BE ASSURED THAT MADEMOISELLE DE BEUZERIE ALSO HAD ONE. It was lucky for the Chevalier Tancrede that they did not keep late hours in those days at Easter. At niidniglit all the guests dispersed, some, and they were the nearest neighbors, to return to their manors, either afoot or on horseback; others, who lived at a distance, to retire to the apartments which, in the fulness of their ancient hospitality, the baron and the baroness had placed at their disposal." Before ascending to his bed-chamber, Roger went as usual to embrace his father and his mother, who ex- changed smiles; then he bowed to the abbe and in turn retired, but not to sleep. He felt not the least inclined toward sleep ; sleep had abandoned him like his appetite ; he but thought of Mademoiselle de Beuzerie. It was the first time that the chevalier had given thought to anything but a hunting party, or a horse-race, or a fencing-match, or an ingenious subterfuge forgetting off from a recitation of his Sallust or Virgil. Roger was profoundly sad. He had comprehended that the only aim of that hurried departure had been to take Constance away from him ; but he had read in the young maid's eyes that she would have been very glad to re- main near him, and it comforted him. Besides, there is something which weighs upon the heart so sweetly CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 37 in the early sorrows of a first love, that they are accepted as sensations greatly to be preferred to the indifference that has given place to them. What we desire above all things is not exactly to be happy, — Ave do not know yet what happiness is, — but to avoid a return to that arid desert whence we have come, to remain in the soft sunlight under the beautiful green trees, among the intoxicating odors of the flowers, whose thorns have already lacerated our fingers; but, for all that, how we love to pluck them, whatever the risk, how essential to breathe their perfume! We prefer tempest to calm, suffering to lack of joy. Roger went to sleep late, and he slept feverishly, which did not interfere with his waking at daybreak, refreshed, rested, and bright-eyed. What is more, he had planned a little scheme of his own. He would him- self take back the coach with Christopher under pre- text of asking in the name of his father and mother after the Beuzerie family, to whom, in view of the advanced hour of the night when they had left the chateau, the baron and the baroness might be supposed to fear that some accident had happened. In addition, he had con- ceived an idea that rendered such a course quite natural. He would give the coachman a crown to counterfeit ill- ness and declare that he did not feel equal to going to Beuzerie. The chevalier, who knew where the coach was, directed the gamekeeper and the stable-boy, and these, with the help of the gardener, the farmer, and three or four of his plough-boys, succeeded by means of ropes and strength of arms in hoisting the coach to the roadway. Happily, the solidity of the old coach preserved it from damage, and once righted, it made no objection to wheeling toward Beuzerie. As for Christopher, under 38 SYLVANDIRE. the stimulus of repeated cuts of tlie wliip from his young master, lie set off at a full trot, kicking and whinncying by way of protest that he failed to understand the man- ner in which he was driven since the night before. But, as Roger drew near Bcuzcric, his urgency, as regards Christopher, became less pressing, and, profiting by the cessation of blows, the intelligent animal came down from the full trot to a jog, and from the jog-trot to a walk. In fact, what had at first seemed a very simple thing to the young man, this matter of taking the viscount his coach and getting the paternal cart in exchange, now looked to him like monstrous audacity. He recalled INIonsieur de Beuzerie's severity of counte- nance, his frown, his curt accents, and, more than all, his precipitate departure, and he asked himself whether the master of Beuzerie, who had been in such haste to leave the Chateau d'Anguilhem, would experience a high degree of pleasure on seeing the heir of that chateau at the Chdteau de Beuzerie. All these reflections gave little assurance to the Chevalier Roger Tancrede, who, among the excellent qualities with which heaven had endowed him, had not received that happy impudence which is the card most sure to win; not only then had he ceased urging Christopher forward, but, Avhat is more, had the horse stopped or turned round, it is probable that his master would not have had the courage to start him on again or turn him back; fortunately, this did not happen. Christopher was an honest creature incap- able of such performances. He did not like to be over- driven, that is all, but, when left to decide for himself, he set to work with a provincial conscience, which could be relied on with perfect confidence. Hence he con- tinued to plod on at his ordinary pace toward Beuzerie, and very soon Roger descried the little chateau's two CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 39 slate-roofed towers that lifted their creaking weather- vanes above the trees of the park. Koger still continued to advance, but, it must be said, he was no longer forcing Christopher to go; it was Christopher that forced him. And so, on he went, overwhelmed with profoundest misgivings as to the reception with which he would meet, when, suddenly, at one of the tower windows there appeared a small blonde head looking in his direction with wide-open, beautiful blue eyes, while the hand that obeyed the head was waving a handkerchief as a token that the new-comer was recognized. At that sight Roger drew up Christopher, and the two beautiful children began to exchange all the signs of simple afiection that their hearts, winging their way to each other, were able to suggest. This had lasted for ten minutes, and probably would have lasted till night, had not Roger seen a second per- son rise behind Constance. The untimely interrupter was no other than Madame de Beuzerie, who, passing through the corridor and seeing her daughter, who had imprudently left the door of her room wide open, mak- ing unusual signals from the window, had been curious to know to whom the signals were directed. Madame de Beuzerie, who, on the evening before, had chided her husband for being too ready to take alarm, and for insisting upon their leaving the chateau so early, now recognized Roger, and began to think that the fancies which the viscount had taken into his head were not quite so silly as she had at first believed. Being discovered, Roger saw that there was no draw- ing back; he brought the whip down upon Christopher, who, not expecting anything of the kind, set off at a 40 SYLVANDIRE. run, anil ontorcd tlio court of the Cliateau de Beuzerie at a high rate of speed. Tlio fir.st person that Roger saw was tlie viscount, who was returning from his morning walk in the park. Roger thought that the moment had arrived when lie must pay for his audacity. He sprang to the ground, advanced toward IVlonsieur de Beuzerie, and announced very deliberately, for a man who was serving his appren- ticeship in lying, tliat, his coachman having felt quite indisposed, he had taken it upon himself to bring the coach to Beuzerie, fearing, in the first place, that the viscount might have need of it, and secondly, desiring to learn, on behalf of the baron and the baroness, whether any accident luul happened to tlieir good neighbors when returning. As these two motives were certainly most plausible, the viscount was forced to accept them, although he very clearly divined the true prompting of the young man's visit. He therefore feigned to believe implicitly all that the other had said, inquired in return after the health of the baron and the baroness, and as it was the dinner hour, and they were about to sit down to table, he even extended his courtesy so far as to invite his officious neighbor to share pot-luck. It is to be imagined that Roger gratefully accepted. To put them to a second proof was what tempted the viscount to this step. He might, take it altogether, have been deceived the night before, and he wished to observe the two children again, Alas! the poor young hearts did not yet know how to feign. Upon entering the salon, Constance blushed as if she had been fifteen years old, and Roger turned as pale as if he had been eigh- teen. Monsieur de Beuzerie remarked upon the two young people an opposite effect, which however sprang CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 41 from the same source, and his wavering suspicions were fully established. During the dinner Constance and Roger committed imprudence after imprudence; but on this occasion, instead of frowning, as on the previous evening, Mon- sieur de Beuzerie overlooked them, and contented him- self with conveying to his wife signals which meant, — "Well, was I such a visionary as you said? Is it clear now 1 is it clear ? " Indeed, it was so clear that at the end of dinner, in order to deprive Roger, doubtless, of all thought of re- visiting the chMeau, Monsieur de Beuzerie carelessly announced that Constance was returning that same after- noon to the convent. At this news, Constance uttered a cry, and Roger, seeing her turn so pale, and thinking that she was about to be ill, rushed toward her; but the viscount gently detained him with the remark that Madame de Beuzerie was present, and that, if her daugh- ter was in need of assistance, she would give it to her. But Constance was not at the fainting age. The poor little thing was too simple for that; she was contented to dissolve into tears, seeing which, Roger had need of all his self-possession to repress his own. Moreover, those untimely tears occasioned something very sad for the two children. Constance received orders to go to her room. Sobbing the while, she dropped a little cour- tesy to Roger, who acknowledged it by one of the most pathetic of bows; after which, as there was nothing more to detain him at the chateau, he begged to take leave of the viscount. One would have said that the viscount had foreseen that hurried departure, for, on arriving at the court-steps, Roger found Christopher there already harnessed to the cart. He thereupon saluted the viscount who shook hands with him most amiably, charged him 42 SYLVANDIRE. in turn with many compliments to the baron and the baroness, and completed his civilities by wishing him a pleasant drive. As one can easily understand, Eoger did not pass under the little window of the tower without an up- ward glance. Good luck willed that just then the vis- countess, believing lloger to be still in the salon chanced to leave her daughter's room. Free for a moment, Con- stance had hastened to the window; she saw Roger. To the chevalier's great bewilderment, the maiden's face was radiant. The youth was about to ask of the beau- tiful child the cause of her unlocked for joy, when she exhibited a pencil and a bit of paper. Roger compre- hended that Constance was about to write to him, and he stopped. In fact, after a moment's delay, both paper and pencil fell at his feet. On the paper were these four lines : — " Mamma, who is very fond of me, has just confessed that they said before you that I was to leave for the convent this afternoon so that you would not return here again. The truth is that I shall not go until next Sunday. " COXSTANCE." Since a pencil was thrown to him, Roger understood that he might respond ; he tore off a scrap of the paper, and wrote in return : — " Walk in the park to-morrow morning, near the arbor. I will come over the wall, and we will together plan some means of seeing each other again. I do not know whether you would feel such grief as I, but I do know that I shall die if I am kept away from you. " Roger." Then he wrapped a pebble in this note, which, as we see, was somewhat precocious for a lover who was not CHEVALIER SEAECHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 43 yet fifteen years of age; then, with a school-hoy's pre- cision of aim, he threw the pebhle into Constance's room, Constance sprang back to pick it up, and reap- peared skipping with joy, and nodding in assent that she would be at the rendezvous. To remain longer would have been imprudent; so, his heart inflated with happiness, Roger interrupted Christopher's meditations with a cut of the whip. Three hours later, the young man had returned to Anguilhera. The baron and the baroness glanced at each other, and exchanged a smile on witnessing the joy that over- flowed their son's heart and appeared at his eyes, in his speech, in his movements. Never had Roger been so obliging; he dried the china, polished the silver, cleaned the baron's gun, and recited to the Abbe Dubuquoi the entire episode of the love of Dido and ^neas. The day dragged with Roger, but it seemed to him that by keeping himself in motion he might hasten the hours. He went, he came, here and there, upstairs and downstairs, looked at all the clocks, and hurried the supper as if he were hungry. He sat down to the table and ate nothing; and, with eyes more wide-awake than they had ever been, he retired to his room, saying that he was almost asleep. As Ave well know, it was not because he was sleepy that Roger went to his room; he had to tell his love to the moon, to the breeze, the trees, the stars, the clouds. He opened his window and the monologue began. Roger passed a happy night. At daybreak Roger descended the stairs; no one in the chateau had yet risen. He called out to the house- keeper that he was going for a ride to Saint Hippolyte. That was in the direction opposite to Beuzerie. Poor 44 SYLVANDIRE. Roger thought himself obliged to lie, even to a servant. Then, having taken tliis precaution, which, at least, was evidence that indiscretion was not one of Roger's faults, the young man saddled Christopher and set off at full speed. This time the poor animal attempted no resistance; besides, as a precautionary measure, Roger had re-enforced himself with a pair of spurs and a riding-whip. Chris- topher feeling the spurs, and having seen the riding- whip, had very quickly comprehended that, if he at- tempted to make any resistance, he would fare but ill. Upon rising, the baron learned from the housekeeper that his son had gone for a ride to Saint Hippolyte. He did not believe a word of it, very naturally, nor did the baroness. At eleven o'clock the Abbe Dubuquoi, who, from the time he had risen, had kept inquiring of every one for news of his pupil, went to inquire of his parents. The baron and the baroness began significantly to smile, and Monsieur d'Anguilhem said, with a bantering shake of the head as he placed his hand on the tutor's shoul- der, — " All ! abbe , abbe ! you have made a good-for-nothing of your pupil." The baron had not lost sight of his dearest project, which was to reunite Anguilhem and Beuzerie. As for the baroness, she murmured, — " Really, Constance is a charming child, and I should be very happy to call her my daughter." " At all events," responded the Abb^ Dubuquoi, " the wedding will not take place, I hope, until my pupil has finished his studies." The baron and the baroness began to laugh a little at themselves, and more at the abbe. Indeed, such CHEVALIEK SEAKCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 45 schemes concerning a lad of fifteen and a little girl of twelve were, even in the eyes of their projectors, too foolish to be entertained by the judgment. The baron therefore was the first to drop the subject by saying, — " Time will tell ; let it work and we will talk of something else." And they talked of Monsieur de Bouzenois. The morning slipped by without Roger's being seen again. But, about two o'clock in the afternoon, just as they were sitting down to dinner, he entered the room, sheepish, crestfallen, and red-eyed. The baron cast at the baroness a meaning glance that said, — " D'lable ! (liable ! the matter does not seem to be running on wheels. " The chevalier took his place at the table, but he did not eat, which with him was a sign of great preoccupa- tion. Then, after dinner, he sat a while beside his mother; he rearranged his private library, which con- sisted of thirty volumes, taken from the library of the chateau; he loitered behind the baron as the latter made his rounds of the kitchen-garden; he returned, still silent; and he at last interrupted his silence only to complain of a violent headache, and request that he might withdraw early, a reqviest which, we may readily suppose, was granted unconditionally. But, after returning to his room, Koger forgot that his apartment was situated directly above his mother's, that every one of his movements was betraj'ed by the creak- ing floor. All night long he walked his room, like the malade imaf/maire, back and forth and up and down. Not a step was lost to the baron and the baroness. "There is always hope left to every devil," said the baron; " but we are worsted by Beuzerie." The next morning the baron himself went out to the 46 SYLVANDIRE. stable and found Christopher strutting before his rack. He returned through tlie kitclien with an upward glance; the three guns were above the high mantel. Roger had not gone out. Roger was asleep. At Roger's age, how- ever troubled one may be, nature is exacting; one must sleep and eat. So Roger slept until nine o'clock; at nine o'clock he descended to breakfast, his eyes swollen and his cheeks pale. Poor boy ! yet ho had slept two hours longer than on the preceding night. There is a great difference between the sleeplessness of joy and that of sorrow. However, Roger ate; but, while he was eating, the dining-room door opened, and Monsieur de Beuzerie's valet appeared with a letter in his hand. The chevalier recognized Comtois, grew red and turned pale alter- nately; then, observing that the valet was approaching his father, he arose from the table, and ran to shut him- self witliin his room. In spite of his philosophical pretensions, a cold chill ran over the Baron d'Anguilhem as he opened the de- spatch, whose contents he could surmise. What is more, Comtois had assumed his serious air and majestic bear- ing. Now, neither the one nor the other augured any good; one always guesses at the message by the messen- ger's face. However, the baron transferred his eyes from Comtois' visage to the viscount's letter, and read as follows : — " Monsieur and dear Neighbor, — This is to tender our best wishes for your welfai'e and to present the very humble compliments of Madame de Beuzerie and myself to you and Madame la Baronne. We are sorry to have something of a disagreeable nature to communicate with regard to your son, Monsieur le Chevalier Roger Tancrfede, whom I sur- prised yesterday in a secluded quarter of the park on his CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 47 knees to our daughter, Mademoiselle de Beuzerie, whose hands he was kissing with an ardor rather excessive in a school-boy of fifteen. You well know, monsieur, my dear neighbor, that it is very painful for us to enter such a com- plaint against a son whose father and mother we love so much, and, also, that we must regard with disfavor his pur- suit of our daughter, by which we are no doubt honored, but which seems to us not only very precocious, as she is scarcely thirteen, but very ill-advised as well, in that it is conducted without your consent. We regret to be com- pelled to say that it would be a source of great uneasiness to us should ^Monsieur le Chevalier Roger Tancrfede come again to Beuzerie, but we count iipon your friendship and your good advice to bring him to reason ; for, in short, our daughter is ill of the affair and of the cold she has un- doubtedly taken. However, in view of the pressing neces- sity, her illness does not prevent her leaving for the convent this evening. " Adieu, monsieur and dear friend. Believe in our sincere desire to please you, and in our lively regret at having been forced to enter such complaints. "De Beuzerie. "The seventeenth day of April, 1708.'' That the letter almost dropped from the baron's hands did not prevent his ringing for the housekeeper to have Comtois taken to the pantry, there to be well treated and regaled with the very best. He then an- swered the viscount's letter, promising to call and make, on behalf of the chevalier, due apologies both to him and to Madame de Beuzerie. AVarmed up by the welcome that he had received, and which he was far from expecting of the baron's cour- tesy, Comtois told the cook, while drinking his bottle of Orleans, that Mademoiselle Constance seemed greatly grieved and wept aloud. In the wake of this confidence 48 SYLVANDIRE. there followed almost as much sorrow at Anguilliem as there was grief at I^euzorie. In his quality of only son, Roger Tancr^do was not only adored by the haron and the baroness, but also by all the retainers of the chS,teau; and most assuredly, if theirs had still been the days when similar suits were adjudged by lance and sword, the baron might without resistance have armed his ten vassals to go and carry off the young chatelaine who had been refused to his son. Comtois having departed, the chevalier was sent for. The baron admonislied him with a few very paternal and very mild reproaches concerning the precociousness of his amorous inclinations, and on the propriety of finishing his studies, at least, before thinking of mar- riage. Then the baroness added that when the time came for such thouglits, it would be quite as well that the chevalier should not cast his eyes on very wealthy heiresses, presumption that might bring upon his parents the humiliation of a refusal. Stung to the quick, Roger replied that there had been a mistake, that he was not in love with Mademoiselle Constance, that he had never thought of marriage, nor had he for a moment entertained any desire other than to please his tutor, Monsieur I'Abbe Dubuquoi ; that, as for his mother's anxiety about his aiming his addresses at too lofty a mark, her fear was entirely chimerical, since he was firmly resolved to remain a bachelor. Poor child! he did not suspect that the greatest danger to be encountered in his life would arise, perhaps, from polygamy, a hanging offence! There was so much of wounded pride in the cheva- lier's denial, that both father and mother respected his falsehood. Consequently, the baron gave him his hand, his mother kissed him, and, in accordance with the de- CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 49 sire that he had expressed, he was sent to his tutor who, instead of the loves of Dido and ^neas, made him repeat a chapter on the contempt of riches. Poor Roger was decidedly unfortunate, both as lover and as student. As a lover, he had fallen from Mademoiselle Constance to Monsieur de Beuzerie, and as a student, from Virgil to Seneca. The chevalier had no sooner left his presence than the baron made a very grand toilet, and proceeded to Beu- zerie to pay the promised visit. He was received with an air of constraint by the viscount and the viscountess, who attributed their embarrassment to the preparations for their daughter's return to her convent. The baron asked to see Mademoiselle de Beuzerie, a request which could not be refused. Constance entered with eyes so red and swollen that Monsieur d'Anguilhem discerned that this time the departure was not in the least a pre- tence. The baron then spoke very courteously of the chevalier's unpardonable folly, ascribing all the impro- priety of his conduct to youthful ignorance and thought- lessness, adding, finally, that the poor boy had bitterly repented it, and that he begged his neighbors, and espe- cially his fair young neighbor, to forget all that had occurred within the last three days ; thereupon Constance became as pale as death, and feeling that she was about to burst into tears, fled from the salon. The baron had made up his mind as to the young maid's feelings. She loved the chevalier deeply, and his eye had penetrated to the very depths of the virgin heart of the heiress of Beuzerie ; the parents remained to be sounded in their turn. This was not a difficult matter. The viscount himself turned the conversation upon a certain Marquis de Croisey who lived with his parents in Loches, and enjoyed an income of something 4 50 SYLVANDIRE. like three hundred louis. For a long time there had been a fair understanding between the two families, and he added even tliat so great importance had been altachLMl to what had just passed only because the affair might prove an obstacle in the eyes of that gentleman. The baron felt the indirect thrust aimed at himself, and, as we have said, being a master hand at fencing, he parried with a thrust direct, saying that, in paying the visit to Beuzerie, he was so far from thinking to reinstate his son, that he quite intended this visit to be his last. In vain did they beg that he would not be so easily offended ; he was firm. They attempted to make excuses. He rose, saying that a d'Anguilhem was the equal of a Croisey, and that except for a slight differ- ence in fortunes one d'Anguilhem was, in his opinion, worth as much as all the Beuzeries in the land. This somewhat exaggerated estimate of the value of the d'Anguilhem family would undoubtedly have led to a serious quarrel between the two respectable old gentle- men, both exceedingly testy on questions of honor, had not Madame de Beuzerie, a new type of the Sabine woman, cast herself between them. The baron and the viscount contented themselves with bowing to each other with icy dignity, and parted in utter wrath. On that same evening, according to announcement. Mademoi- selle Constance set out for the convent at Chinon. Very impatiently the Chevalier Roger Tancrede awaited the baron's return, since, in his filial esteem for his father, he counted greatly upon him to renew with the Beuzeries the thread of the old friendship that was threatening to end. But, quite contrary to what he had hoped, the chevalier saw his father returning with a countenance sterner than when he went away. He then thought that things were going from bad to CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 51 worse, and, under pretext of being more than ever de- voted to Latin, he shut himself in his room to Avork, he said, but really to sigh and grieve quite at his ease. We have all been through the first emotions of a first love; "we have all known by swelling grief that we were serving man's apprenticeship. We have all aged by many years in a single hour; it was with the poor chevalier as with us all. He spent the night pacing the length and breadth of his room; then, when day appeared, to beguile his mental pain with physical fatigue, he shouldered his gun, unchained Castor, and set off for a hunt. But the hunting was merely an excuse of which poor Roger had taken advantage. Without knowing how the thing happened, since he had coursed no hare in that direction, nor had the flight of a covey of partridges lured him over valley and mountain, without there having been the least excuse, in short, for the four or five leagues that he had accomplished on foot, our hunter found himself in a warren lying about five hundred paces from Beuzerie, and occupying both sides of the cross- road leading from the chateau to Loches. Now, it happened by a coincidence which, however, was not at all extraordinary, that the Vicomte de Beuzerie, also for distraction , without doubt, since he had his parental anxieties just as Roger had his lover's troubles, it hap- pened, I repeat, that the Vicomte de Beuzerie had also come out to shoot a rabbit, and that at a bend of the narrow road, the two hunters came upon each other face to face. Each recoiled a step at sight of the other. Roger had a great mind to take to his heels and run ; but he felt instinctively that it would be a grossly stupid thing to do, and that it would be far wiser, being caught in the 52 SYLVANDIRE. act, to brazen it out; besides, bo was in tlie middle of a warren, and lie could as easily be looking for a rabbit as seeking for Mademoiselle Constance. During tbe first moment of astonishment, Monsieur de Beuzerie frowned, and Roger rested the butt of his gun upon the ground and doffed his cap. The vis- count was the first to break the silence. " You again, Chevalier Koger TancrMe ! " he tartly exclaimed. "Monsieur le Vicomte," responded the otlier, "I am here by accident. IMy dog started up a Avounded hare ; I followed him, and before I was aware of it, found my- self in this warren." " And why is your dog at Beuzerie 1 " demanded the viscount. " Why is my dog at Beuzerie? Why, I have twenty times seen your dogs all over La Pintade, and La Pin- tade, I think, belongs to Anguilhem; and then, besides, I thought it was an understood thing that we have the right to hunt on each other's grounds." The words were enunciated with a firmness that the viscount did not expect from a lad of fifteen ; but Roger had taken his misadventure to heart, and he must be revenged on some one. No one but Constance's father was at hand, and he abused Constance's father. Had he been merely a keeper, Roger would have beaten him. "Certainly," replied the viscount, a little astonished at such logic, which proved that Roger was not easily disconcerted; "certainly it is understood, I know, that our preserves should be in common; but, after what has taken place, young man, many things are changed, do you hear 1 " " With you, monsieur, but not with us," returned the chevalier. " You are master of your own lands, Monsieur CHEVALIER SEARCHES FOR MADEMOISELLE'S HEART. 53 le Vicomte, and you can withhold the shooting from any one you wish; but I believe that I may say, in my father's name, monsieur, that you. will always be very welcome to ours. Here, Castor, here! " And Roger turned his back on the viscount, who stood aghast at the aplomb of his young neighbor; but the young man had gone barely a few steps before he had reflected upon the difference in age between him and the viscount, and he reproached himself for having presumed to give him a lesson. He therefore turned back, and, approaching the old gentleman, said politely, but not less firmly , — " Monsieur, I have the honor to present my respects." And he courteously bowed to the viscount, who mechanically returned the salute. "The devil! the devil!" ejaculated the viscount, gazing after Roger as he strode away ; " either I am greatly deceived, or there goes a young fellow that will give us a snarl to untangle. Luckily, Mademoiselle de Beuzerie is on the road to Chinon." The viscount had forgotten that the lady superior of the Augustine convent of Chinon, to which he was returning his daughter, happened to be an aunt of the Chevalier d'Anguilhem. 64 SYLVANDIRE. IV. IN WHICH THE AUTHOR DEMONSTRATES THAT FATHERS AND MOTHERS OF DAUGHTERS IN CONVENTS CAN SLEEP ON BOTH EARS. EuT Roger had borne it in mind, and this is wliat had kept him from yielding to utter despair. He remembered even, if his childish memories were not at fault, that he had been a great favorite with that good aunt whom he had formerly visited with his mother on two or three occasions, and who, in turn, had as often come to Anguil- hem ; yet Koger experienced some pangs in the dej^ths of his heart for having been less attentive to her at that period, or rather at those different periods, than he should have been. Indeed, he recalled the innumerable cares, attentions, and civilities lavished on himself which had then ap- peared irksome and fatiguing, and which, on the contrary, ought to have filled him with gratitude. Among other cloistral diversions, Roger had not forgotten how reluc- tantly he had been forced, during the whole time of his sojourn at Chinon, to engage in mass and vespers, and that, too, in spite of the angelic singing of the nuns, novices, and boarding-school girls, which accompanied the divine service. Ah ! well, only see how fickle in his tastes and changeable in his desires is man. At pres- ent, his highest ambition was to attend those religious ceremonies, to try to recognize, among all those angel voices, the voice of Constance soaring melodiously to- ward heaven ; only to see amid that white flock of the IN THE CONVENT. 55 Lord's, that figure, so ethereal, so light, so pure, that she seemed to belong to some unknown dream-world, which, for the time being, had lent her to ours, and which threat- ened each hour to recall her. Above all, Roger dimly remembered in his aunt's room a certain window that overlooked a garden where the nuns walked in hours of recreation ; a window at which — he really could not understand his blindness — he had scarcely looked. All this had been seething in the young man's mind ever since he learned that Mademoiselle de Beuzerie was at school in the convent directed by his aunt. The tender love of that good, kind aunt recurred to his heart, and he thought he owed her some atonement for the slight appreciation that he had displayed for her favors. His atonement should take the form of a visit, during which he would devote himself assiduously to his duties as Christian and nephew, attending services regu- larly and entertaining his aunt, especially when she sat in that charming little room overlooking the garden. The visit, then, was a settled thing ; but, it is quite under- stood, in petto, and without the chevalier's having con- sulted any one as to its expediency. Consequently, one morning, before daylight, Roger left the house, saddled Christopher, and, that no serious un- easiness should be felt on his account, informed the stable-boy that he was to be gone four or five days. From Anguilhem to Chinon was a distance of about twenty-four leagues. "Without overdoing Christopher, therefore, it was a matter of two days. Indeed, on that same night, Roger slept at Sainte Maure, a little town situated about midway of the distance to be made, and on the next day at four o'clock in the afternoon he was at Chinon. Although it was six or eight years since the chevalier had 56 SYLVANDIRE. visited his aunt, he liad not forgotten the way to tlie con- vent. He tlierefore proceeded straiglit lo the Augustines, without needing to ask the way of any one, and knocked at tlie door of the saintly community. As the convent of the Augustines was very strictly kept, the attendant nun who came to open the door began to knit her brows in a formidable nuumer at sight of a tall, handsome youth de- manding entrance into that holy asylum, but, upon his naming and defining the degree of relationship between him and the mother superior, he saw the face of the ven- erable concierge suddenly relax, and the doors open as of their own accord. Five minutes later, the Chevalier Roger TancrMe was respectfully kissing the plump hand of his good aunt. She was one of those charming abbesses of whom tlie aristocratic traditions of the grand century have handed portraits down to us, — neither too large nor too small, plump, comfortable, perfect confections of gentle speech and pious aspect, who found means, even while observing the rules of the order, to impart to their garb a grace and coquetry savoring indeed of worldliness, but which, nev- ertheless, one did not know just where to attack. She was, moreover, a younger sister of Madame d'Anguilhem, and born, like her, a La Roche Berthaud, that is, de- scended from one of the oldest and noblest families in Touraine. The good superior, who had never entertained any but holy thoughts, was very far from suspecting the motive which brought her nephew to Chinon. She gave orders that Christopher should be led to the stables, and that the excellent creature, whose life for some time past had been so very eventful, should receive the best possible care. As for Roger, he was simultaneously conducted to his apartment, an apartment under lock of the superior's IN THE CONVENT. 57 key, and consisting of a large and a small room. Now, the little room was that very little chamber so coveted by Roger, which looked out upon the cloister. Roger's interview with his aunt had been most touch- ing. It had been three years since the good lady had seen either the baron or the baroness ; and, in three years, Roger had grown so tall, and he was so changed, that at first sight the venerable superior had been slow to iden- tify him, and had almost withdrawn the hand which, in his joy on at last finding himself within the walls of the convent that held the object of his love, the chevalier had too enthusiastically pressed. But, at Roger's first words of the baron and the baroness, saying that he came in their name, full of anxiety as they were as to her health, to obtain for them news of their sister and sister-in-law, the good abbess had not held back. Tall boy as he had grown, she folded her nephew in her arms, and in a very motherly way returned on his brow the kiss which she had just received on the hand. It was all Roger could desire for the moment : he had gained entrance. Nothing was to be hoped for on that evening; besides, the dear child must be so tired after having ridden forty leagues on horseback, that all exertion was forbidden him until the next morning. In his aunt's own room he was served with a charming little supper, consisting of sliced chicken with jelly, tarts, and preserves ; then he was shut in his room, with orders to go to bed at once, and not wake up until it was time for the morning service, Roger submitted, not wishing to excite suspicion ; he entered his room, and quite philosophically heard the door of his apartment locked behind him with a double turn. It is true that he still had the window. He im- mediately ran thither, for it was the recreation hour; 58 SYLVANDIRE. but, by an odious fatality, a heavy tliundcr-sturm, -wliich, most cortidnly, liad little idea of what it was about at the moineut, had just burst upon Chinon; consequently, as the convent garden afforded no shelter, all the nuns, the novices, and the boarders were just then within the cloister. Roger saw that, so long as that pelting storm endured, he would be wasting his time waiting for any one to come into the garden. Surely, had Constance known that the handsome young man was standing there, his heart beating, and eyes fixed upon the garden whither she came daily to play, rain could not have stayed her, and in spite of the harm that might result to her little satin slippers and beautiful white gown, she would have felt the need of an airing, however damp and unwhole- some it was at the time. But the poor child believed herself to be quite separated from the young man until the vacation, at least, perhaps for a longer time still, perhaps forever, and, leaning on the arm of one of her friends, she was walking very sadly within the cloister, her pretty little face, pale and sad, drooping above her breast. And then night fell quite gently, bringing to the hori- zon beautiful bands of gilded clouds that clearly indi- cated a magnificent day for the morrow. Roger believed in prognostics of that kind. On the evenings preceding his great hunting expeditions, wliich, before he had seen Constance, had furnished the only excitements tliat could, quicken his heart, he had more than once questioned that celestial barometer which the inhabitants of our country districts so skilfully interpret. He was, therefore, en- tirely reassured as to the morrow. This prospect brought him one of the best nights that he had enjoyed for eight days. He fell asleep, confident IN THE CONVENT. 59 of the future. For, at fifteen, what is the future ? The uext day, three or four Jays perliaps, — a weelc at most. In tlie morning he awoke with the birds ; scarcely were his movements heard before an aged nun rapped at his door. Roger hastened to open it, and was met by his early breakfast. The early breakfast consisted of a cup of smoking cream, some little cakes that were yet hot, and some candied fruits. Roger found the fare rather cloistral, indeed, and infi- nitely more elegant than substantial. However, as he understood that it was merely an instalment, he asked when the regular breakfast was served. He was told that it came after mass. He then inquired the hour of mass, and learned that it began at nine o'clock and ended at eleven. Upon which, Roger drank his cream to the last drop, and crunched his cakes to the very last crumb. He was finishing his breakfast, when he heard the rus- tling of a dress along the parquet, and saw his door open. It was the good aunt coming to find out how her nephew had passed the night, whether his bed had been soft, whether he had slept well, whether he had had any bad dreams, et cetera, et cetera. Roger answered cheerfully all these inquiries ; more than that, there was about him a little air of gaiety and good health which, to eyes less solicitous than those of his kind relative, would have answered of itself. He was curled, trim, and bewitching enough for a veritable little abbe. The good aunt felt an unspeakable desire to eat her nephew. Yet she had not forgotten the infantine grimaces made by the dear little fellow, five or six years before, when- ever the question of attendance upon divine service arose. So she thought it would be necessary to resort to some circumlocution in leading up to the subject which the 60 SYLVANDIKE. devout dame conscientiously believed herself forced to broach to tlie chevalier ; but to her great astonishment, tlie clievalier met her with the response that since the period of which liis aunt was speaking, lie was very niuch changed in his attitude toward matters of religion ; that he had reflected much on the subject, and that he had come to regard hearing mass and vespers every day not only as a duty, but as a [jleasure also. Such a dct^laration overwhelmed the superior with joy. She gazed at her nephew with pious affection, and declared that from that moment she should cherish the hope of there being a great saint, one day, in the Anguilhem family, as there had been great lawyers and great captains, the nobility of the Anguilhems being of both gown and sword. Meanwhile, the bell rang for mass. Forced to put into action the principles which he had just professed, Koger gallantly ofiered his arm to his aunt to conduct her to the chapel ; but, in this, Roger was deceived. The su- perior gave him to understand that, during the interval of six years which had rolled away since she had seen him, he had become too big a boy and, above all, too handsome a gentleman to enter the choir with her and take his seat, as he had formerly done, on the steps of her stall. He must simply take his seat with the congre- gation, outside of the choir, which was reserved exclu- sively for the nuns, novices, and boarders. There was nothing for it but to submit to this rule ; besides, by insisting, Eoger would undoubtedly have be- trayed the influences that had suddenly rendered him so deeply devout. He bowed therefore in token of submis- sion, and asked that he be shown the direction he must take in obedience to the instructions that he had just received. The convent chapel was already open to the faithful. IN THE CONVENT. 61 As the Augustine dames of Chinon riglitly passed for hav- ing tlie most beautiful voices in the province, the divine service at the convent was always well attended. Koger slipped into the front row of auditors, and sat in as close proximity as possible to the grille which separated the choir from the nave. His expectation was rewarded. Above all those virgin voices which were lifted heavenward, he distinguished cue, so sweet, so vibrant, so inspired, that he did not doubt for a moment that the voice was the voice of Con- stance. After that, his sole purpose was to follow that voice in all its modulations, without for an instant losing it among its companion voices. Hanging upon those notes, it seemed to him that his soul rose with hers to the celestial abode, whither she was going to sing the glory of the blessed, and again returned with her to earth, to which she descended to mourn the sins and sor- rows of men, all the time soaring above earthly sounds, like the nocturnes drawn from the ^olian harps by the wind, and which might be taken for strains escaped from the concerts of the spirits of air. As long as the mass lasted, Eoger was like one en- tranced. He had never heard, or rather, he had never listened to the sacred music of the church, the most beau- tiful of all. He discovered within himself answering chords, of which he had himself been ignorant, chords which vibrated to the depths of his soul, being awakened at once by the double touch of love and religion. Mass had been over for some time, and Roger still knelt before the grating of the choir. Throughout the sacred service the good superior had closely observed him, and she had been edified by the profound rapture depicted upon the face of her nephew every time the choir began to sing. And she awaited his reappearance 62 SYLVANDIRE. to congratulate liim upon the change wrought within him, and which she no longer doubted, now tliat she had with her own eyes beheld the symptoms. Hence she was not at all surprised when Roger asked to withdraw a short time to his own room, there to recover from the mysteri- ous emotions that he had just experienced. Not only did the worthy superior give assent, but, carried away by the feeling of admiration which piety so profound inspired in her, she even came very near asking the young neophyte for his benediction. Roger left her under the influence of that feeling and slowly retired to his room ; but barely liad he given the key a double turn, when he ran to the window and opened it. The garden was thronged with young girls, who, like bees, flitted from flower to flower, and revealed their in- stinctive simplicity or pride, some in weaving wreaths of marguerites, periwinkles, or violets, others in fashioning crowns of roses, of tulips, or of lilies. At a little distance from the group of girls scattered here and there like flowers themselves amid the flowers, walked two of their number, talking in low tones and glancing uneasily around from time to time, as if to assure themselves that no one was listening. One of the two was Constance. Both had their backs turned to the win- dow where Roger was standing, and they were pursuing a path that ended at a wall ; hence it was evident that, on reaching the end of the walk, they would retrace their steps. This is just what happened. The two girls turned round ; Constance raised her eyes mechanically toward the window. The young girl recognized Roger, and, un- able to control her surprise, she gave a cry of joy and astonishment. The chevalier had been seen, that was all he desired. He stepped back. IN THE CONVENT. 63 The cry uttered by Constance had been so shrill that her young companions came flocking about her to discover the cause of it. Constance shrank back as a flower folds upon its stem, and answered that she had stepped on a pebble, her ankle had turned, and she was at first afraid that it was sprained. The poor child came very near sufi'ering the penalty of her untruth, for she was instantly threatened with the convent doctor, whom twenty at once of her officious com- panions proposed to call. But Constance insisted with such truthful emphasis that she no longer felt any pain, that the girls who had gathered around went away one after the other, as birds flit one by one, and, in a little while they were again scattered about the garden. Con- stance remained alone with her friend. Soon the eyes of the two girls were slowly turned in the direction of the window, and Roger clearly saw that there was no secret between the two fair creatures. Then he advanced, taking care, however, to keep in such a light as to be seen only by those who knew of his presence. Constance leaned against her friend's shoulder, and blushed deliciously. Then she rose, and began to pick a bunch of pansies, Avhich she placed in the sash about her waist, and whose deep purple stood out in relief against her white dress. And then, after walking about a few moments, the two girls went indoors. An instant later Roger heard steps in the corridor. He ran to his door, but, quickly as he opened it, he was too late. He saw nothing but two sylph-like forms, two shadows, two visions vanishing at the extreme end of the gallery. But in front of his door, as the sole trace of the flight of the two school-girls, lay the bunch of pansies which, a mo- ment before, he had seen in Constance's sash. Roger pounced upon the bouquet, and kissed it again 64 SYLVANDIKE. and again ; tlien, as lie heard the footsteps of liis aunt, who, thinking that ho must have recovered from liis re- ligious emotions, was coming for him to go to breakfast, he quickly slipped the bouquet into his breast, and hasr tened to meet the worthy superior. ^Nothing so emboldens one as success. The chevalier had seen Constance at a distance, and had been seen by her. He had pressed against his heart the flowers that she had worn ; it was more than he had hoped for at first, and yet it was already not enough. He desired to meet her. He must speak with her ; and he lay in wait for the first opportunity, ready to seize it by the forelock when- ever it presented itself. The good superior herself gave it to him. One can understand that the conversation between Roger and his aunt was an interminable exchange of questions on the one side and answers on the other. At first the questions related to the baron and the baroness, then to the farmers, and then to the land ; from this they passed to the nearest neighbors, Avho were the Senec- teres, then from the Senecteres they went on to the Che- milles ; at last, leaving the Chemill^s, they reached the Beuzeries. " Ah, hon Dieu ! " cried Roger on hearing that name, *' how fortunate, dear aunt, that you have reminded me of a commission which I had utterly forgotten. Three or four days before my departure for Chinon I met Mon- sieur de Beuzerie when out hunting, and, as he knew I was about to make you a visit, he begged to charge me with a letter for his daughter. Now, what I have done with that letter, which he sent me on the day before my departure, I have not the remotest idea." " Ah, mon Dieu ! " exclaimed the good superior, " it is to be hoped that you have not lost it. The poor little IN THE CONVEXT. 65 girl has been very sad since her return, and that letter would have been a comfort to her." " Indeed, aunt," said Roger, " I will search for it ; ifc must be in my portmanteau. But if Mademoiselle de Beuzerie is sad you should give her a doll, for she is still a mere child, it seems to me." " K'ot so fast, my practical man," returned the superior. " You are wrong ; in a month Mademoiselle de Beuzerie has become a young woman. I do not know what hap- pened to her during her stay with her parents, but I do know that she is no longer recognizable." " But," said Roger, " I dined with her at Anguilhem barely eight or ten days ago, anaron d'Anguilhem was sitting by his pillow. On opening his eyes, he stared about him like a man awaking from sleep and striving to collect his thoughts. Then memory returned. He recalled what had jjassed at the convent ; that, from the lips of the attendant, he had learned of the death of Constance, and how, crushed by the blow, he had fallen into the arms of a man whom he had recognized as his father. For an instant the chevalier strove to doubt his mis- fortune; but his own condition, his tutor's clothes lying on a chair, his father, Avho sat weeping beside him, all were proofs of his misfortune too convincing for him to be able to preserve hope. Turning to the baron, then, with arms outstretched, he cried, — " Oh ! father, I am so unhappy ! " The baron adored his son. He lavished on him all the forms of consolation that are current on such occasions. He reminded him that he was a man, that man was born to suffer, and to this end it was that God had given him strength. It was all good orthodox doctrine; but to it all, however sacred it might be, Roger responded, shak- ing his head, — THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO BECOME A JESUIT. 93 " If my mother were liere ! if my mother were here! " " "Well, and what would she do that I am not doing 1 " demanded the baron. " Oh! she would weep with me ! " cried Roger. And he fell back on his pillow, sobbing aloud. The baron thought that the best thing to do under the circumstances was to let his son weep his fill. In fact, tears afforded him some relief, and he began to be able to speak of Constance. It was, as one can easily imagine, to multiply questions about her illness and death. The baron merely replied that he knew on the subject only what every one else knew : the young girl had been taken with smallpox, and, in spite of medical science, she had died after six days of suffering. The chevalier then declared that he wished to visit the convent and see the room in which Constance had lived, and the grave where she lay; that he wished to weep in the one and pray beside the other. The baron replied that the next morning a requie7n was to be sung for the repose of the young girl's soul, and if he would promise to conduct himself like a man, and to set out in the afternoon for Anguilhem, he should be present at the 7'equiem, and, after leaving the chapel, he should be conducted by the abbess to Constance's cell and then to her tomb. The chevalier gave his word that he would command himself. As to leaving Chinon, he would do that with all his heart, for he realized how much, in his present condition, he needed his mother's love. The remainder of the day passed peacefully enough, although sadly. Roger remained in bed, affecting, from time to time, to be asleep. His father, believing that he slept, soon went out on tiptoe, and, finding himself alone, Roger was then able to weep as freely as he wished. 94 SYLVANDIRE. Night fell, and, however unhappy was the chevalier, Avith the night came a little sleep. He dreamed of Con- stance, and, strangely enough, instead of beholding the young girl pale and dying on her bed, or white and cold in lier cotfin, as often as she appeared to him, she seemed to be full of life, with love in her eyes and a smile upon her lips, just as she had been at Anguilhem, at Beuzerie, or at the convent. Tlieu he Avould awake, his heart beating rapidly ; for a few moments, lie would doubt his own unhappiness, until the room at the inn, the clerical garb, the step of his father, who occupied the adjoining room, and who, at every sound made by the chevalier, came to the door, all recalled him to the terrible certainty that the death of Constance was itself not a dream. At daybreak, Koger heard the ringing of the convent bell; it Avas proclaiming the day's sad rite. Each slow and muffled throb of the tolling bronze found response in the depths of the clievalier's heart. Another thing distressed him moreover: he had no clothes to Avear but those in Avhich he had fled from. Amboise, and he could not attend the service dressed like an abbe ; his disguise, so grotesque in itself, seemed to square badly with his grief. To run about the country, to carry off Constance in that attire would have Avorked to a charm, but to listen to the service for the dead and to weep over her tomb, Avearing such a cos- tume, Avould be profanation. The heart has instinctive delicacies Avhich never lead it astray. Meanwhile, the baron Avas entering the chevalier's room, folloAved by a servant from the chateau carrying a complete suit of clothes. Thanking his father, Roger asked how he had come by them. The baron re- plied that the abbe, on arriving at Anguilhem, had THE CHEVALIEK RESOLVES TO BECOME A JESUIT. 95 informed the baroness in what equipment her son had escaped, and that the baroness, riglitly suspecting that he had run away to see Constance again, and, comprehend- ing her son's embarrassment on reaching Chinon, had immediately sent on this suit. A single fact annoyed Roger: it was that his mother had not brought it herself. However, the chevalier dressed, for at eight o'clock mass was to be said. To the baron's great astonishment, Roger said not a word to him about Constance. In all his father's answers, the poor lad had been conscious of a degree of coldness and constraint which accorded but ill with the frankness of his own grief. The baron, for his part, dreading, no doubt, to revive his son's regrets, was continually turning the conversation away from the only theme that interested the chevalier. He did not under- stand that, in crises of the nature of the one that his son was experiencing, the first relief is drawn from tears, and that the way to excite tears is to speak to the sorrow- ing one of the loss for which they flow. The baron therefore thought that Roger's affliction was diminished because Roger wept no more. Alas ! the tears were flowing inwardly, and falling one by one upon his heart. Roger set off with his father, and they proceeded to the convent, walking side by side. But, on approaching the door where twice he had presented himself so light of heart, Roger felt the ground swaying beneath his feet; houses, walls, and trees were whirling round him ; he was obliged to lean on his father's arm. As for the baron, he was visibly moved, on perceiving which Roger strove to master his own emotion. On arriving at the door, Roger again met the attend- ant who had given him the terrible news. Accustomed 96 SYLVANDIEE. as she was to the sight of great human griefs, the poor ■woman herself seemed alfected by the chevalier's pallor and sorrow. And when the latter, as he passed her, secretly slipped a louis into her hand, she could not restrain her tears. Roger entered the chapel which, a year before, he had entered in such happy-hearted confidence of recognizing Constance's voice from among all the others. A year had passed, and that voice, so pure, so sweet, so thrilling, was hushed; and he was about to listen to all those other voices, among which he would seek in vain for one which now was singing in heaven the praises of the Lord. The chevalier went to kneel on the very spot where he liad knelt a year before, and there, for the first time, he felt that sublime necessity for prayer which comes in times of great grief. There for the first time his soul entered into communion with that other world of which one never catches a glimpse save through a veil of joy or of despair, of which one can conceive only in moments of supreme bliss or of supreme grief. The entire service passed, and although Roger's tears never ceased to flow down his cheeks, not a sob escaped his breast. Prayer renders weeping easy and soothing. Mass ended, the baron conducted his son to the supe- rior. Perhaps the worthy nun nursed some rancor toward her nephew for the trick that he had played her before, and that he had quite recently intended to repeat ; perhaps she had promised herself to administer some reprimand, kind but stern, for her aspect, at first, was dignified and cold ; but she heard a heart-rending cry, — " aunt, aunt, why did you let her die 1 " She was i;nable to withstand a grief so real and one which manifested itself by such marked alteration of face and voice. The good superior melted into tears. THE CHEVALIEU RESOLVES TO BECOME A JESUIT. 97 Roger took advantage of lier mood to remind his father of the promise he had made to ask his aunt's permission for liim to visit Constance's cell. The superior raised some little objection, but yielded after having called a nun and, in a low voice, given her a few orders which were doubtless designed to remove from Roger's sight any object that might further excite his grief. A few moments later, all three descended; the corri- dors were deserted. It seemed as if death had at a blow depopulated every cell; the girls were in the garden. The abbess opened the door of Constance's room, and was preparing, like the baron, to follow Roger; but Roger begged them both to allow him to remain alone a moment within the sanctuary of his love. Father and aunt exchanged glances; then, doubtless, seeing no im- propriety in his request, they gave a sign to Roger that he might enter. Roger went in, closed the door behind him that he might be alone, and advanced reverently and with clasped hands toward the bed on which Constance had breathed her last sigh. Nothing indicated that death had passed that way. The chevalier bent over the virgin pillow to imprint thereon a kiss. It still exhaled an odor of tlie sweet and delicate fragrance that emanates from youth and health. One would have said that she who had left it three days ago for the tomb, had gone out but that very morning to run with tossing hair about some meadow all strewn with flowers and variegated with butterflies and bees. This contrast between the place and the scene there enacted, of which nothing seemed to have preserved a trace, broke Roger's heart. Thus came home to him the great truth that we are destined to pass away from the earth leaving no trace other than the memory re- 7. 98 SYLVANDIRE. . taiued by tlioso who have loved us ; and yet, how sliort a time do the most deeply wounded hearts preserve that memory ! Roger vowed that in his the memory of Constance should live forever. Then he arose, examined one after another all the objects comprising the furnishing of that little room, whose picture he Avished his mind to retain. At the left of the entrance, against the wall, were a crucifix and a prie-dieu; on the prie-dieu lay Constance's tiny missal. Roger went and knelt before the prie-dieu, kissed the little volume, opened it at the place where the book- mark showed it to have been opened last, and read the prayer that Constance had undoubtedly read. It was the angelic salutation, the " Ave Maria, " that sweet and poetic promise of an angel to a virgin, of heaven to earth, of God to man. The fireplace was opposite. On the mantel were two porcelain vases overflowing with flowers which, thanks to the water that fed their stems, had survived her wlio had plucked them. Between the two vases shone a little mirror, a worldly infringement of the convent rules, but one that the superior permitted such of her inmates as were destined to re-enter the world. Roger culled a pansy from each of the half-wilted bouquets, and pressed his lips to the mirror which, unfaithful and forgetful like the rest, was ready to reflect any new face that might pass before it, without retaining a shadow of the angelic one that it had so often reflected. From the mantel, Roger advanced to the window. As we have said, the window overlooked the garden. It was the one that he had already seen; the young girls gathered there were the same, but with what a diff'erence ! Buoyant and gay before, they were now silent THE CHEVALIER EESOLVES TO BECOME A JESUIT. 99 and sad. They did not play; they walked in groups and in retired spots. Alone, quite alone, walked Her- minie de ISTarcey, the faithful friend of poor Constance. This last sight was the most terrible of all for Roger. There, on those young hearts, those virgin souls, blank pages of the book of life, as yet scarcely opened, was the real impress of the death whose traces Roger had vainly been seeking within; there was the void left in the air by the dove in its heavenward flight. Just then the door opened. More than a half-hour had elapsed since Roger had entered Constance's room, and, as he did not emerge, his father and his aunt were fearful of some new misfortune brought on by too violent emotion. With breaking heart Roger left the little room, feeling that he was taking forth memories for a whole lifetime, and yet he was outwardly so calm that, upon asking his aunt, in accordance with the baron's late agreement, to allow him to visit the tomb of Constance, not only did neither the baron nor the superior make any objection, but both offered to accompany him thither. The convent burial-ground was within the cloister. Roger had therefore barely a hundred steps to take on leaving the room in which Constance had reposed for a time to reach the abode where she would sleep forever. At the entrance of the cloister, as at the door of her room, Roger asked to be alone; grief is devout, tears are ashamed. Alone, then, Roger entered the little graveyard. Here, as in all convents, was a quadrangle surrounded by columned arcades, enclosing a plot of turf-covered ground whose surface was embossed all over with graves more or less salient, according as the interval elapsed had allowed them to become more or less sunken. On such 100 SYLVANDIRE. a spot especially is felt the marcli of time, the great leveller under whose tread gradually crumble away the palaces of the living and tlie tombs of tlie dead. Slowly Roger advanced toward a mound that was freshly rounded and covered by a slab on which there had not yet been time to inscribe a name. There was no mistaking it, and it was plain that the grave dated from the day named as that of Constance's burial. Roger knelt be- side the stone and prayed. This was his final ordeal, and it lasted i;ntil the baron and the superior came for him. He had said good-by to the chapel where Constance had prayed, to the room in which she had lived, to the tomb where she was laid to rest forever. There was nothing to keep him longer at Chinon ; so Roger let them lead him away like a child, and after mechanically taking leave of his aunt, he got into the cariole in which his father had travelled, not unresistingly, merely, but even without uttering a word. The journey was more quickly made than the first. In coming, the baron had changed horses three times on the way, at Loches, at Sainte Maure, and at I'lle Bou- chard, so that there was no occasion for delay ; at each of these places a fresh horse Avas taken, and by noon of the next day they were at Anguilhem. During the entire journey, Roger had remained ab- sorbed in the profoundest apathy, without a tear, with- out a sigh, and almost without feeling. On meeting his mother again, however, the poor child found his tears j but the shock had been too violent; on that same even- ing fever manifested itself, and Roger fell seriously ill. Then, in all its admirable devotion was displayed that mother's love, so many proofs of which the baroness had already given her son. As long as Roger was ill, she never left his bedside for a moment, sitting with THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO BECOME A JESUIT. 101 him by day, watcliing beside him at night, speaking of Constance without ceasing, praying and weeping with him, fusing her soul with his, divining all his feelings, anticipating every desire, having no life but his life, no will but his will. Sometimes, when she thought him asleep, Roger would surprise her gazing on him witli an expression of infinite tenderness in which he seemed to detect a blending of grief and remorse. Twenty times was he on the point of questioning her as to the peculiar expression that he detected in her eyes; but Roger had not strength enough to be curious. What mattered all the workl to him ? Constance was not there. The chevalier's illness was long; then it insensibly drifted into a sombre melancholy more dangerous than the malady whose place it took, for Roger abandoned himself to this melancholy, and, after having submitted to every form of treatment that had been prescribed for the cure of his physical disease, he would do nothing to cure that of his mind. In vain his father proposed rid- ing, hunting, fencing. All the sports of which he had formerly been passionately fond now wearied him to the point of inspiring disgust. His studies were his sole diversion; and, one fine day, to the great amazement of his father and mother, Roger asked to go back to the college of the Jesuits of Amboise. Whatever sorrow they might have felt at thought of parting with their son in his present state of mind, the baron and the baroness nevertheless- welcomed his request with joy. It proved that Roger was again taking up an interest in life. It had been three months since he had expressed any desire whatever, hence his request was met witli no denial. Roger returned then to Amboise, still under the care of his tutor. This time, his father and his mother accom- 102 SYLVANDIRE. panied him, the baroness having desired to make the journey that she might in person commend her son to the reverend Jesuit fathers. A great disappointment awaited Roger. lie had re- entered college during the vacation and had fully expected, at the re-opening, to see his friend Henri de Narcey return ; but he waited for him in vain. Henri had completed his course in rhetoric, and his parents, liaving destined him for the bar, had not thought it best that he should take philosophy. Roger therefore found himself completely isolated with his sorrow. Then a religious fervor developed within him, no trace of which had manifested itself before the event that had brought it forth from the depths of his heart. Roger passed whole hours within the chapel, praying until he Avould fall into a kind of ecstasy that usually terminated in a flood of tears. The reverend fathers very soon per- ceived this tendency, not toward devotional exercises, — Roger was not a practical devotee, he forgot even the hours of the services, to which he had almost always to be summoned, — but toward pious reverie. They compre- hended what an excellent recruit for the order would be an exalted soul like that of their young guest, attended by a fertile mind, and one that, in all likelihood, would recover later all the vigor that it had momentarily lost; thus, every kindness, every enticement, every flattery be- set Roger. There is an infatuation in religion for young and tender hearts. Roger, to whom Constance had become an angel, directed all his longing toward heaven. The rector was an ingratiating, adroit, eloquent man, fired with that zeal of proselytism which is nowhere so pronounced as in the order of which Ignatius Loyola was the founder. He sent for Roger, sounded his feelings, strengthened his inclination, and managed so successfully THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO BECOME A JESUIT. 103 that one fine morning at the end of six months Roger announced to his tutor that he had firmly resolved to join the order of the Jesuits. As the Abbe Dubuquoi was a member of the order, and as the plan of sending Roger to the college at Amboise had been of his own suggesting, fear seized him lest the chevalier's parents should think that he had been the one to inspire his pupil with this singular notion of taking the vows. Hence he immediately wrote to the baron of what was on foot, begging him to come without loss of time, if he wished to arrive before the reverend fathers had quite taken possession of his son's mind. The baron realized at a glance the danger threatening Roger; he put Christopher to the cart, and the next morning fomid him at Amboise. 104 SYLVANDIRE. VII. HOW MADEMOISELLE DE BEUZERIE APPEAKED BEFORE THE CHEVALIER d'aXGUILHEM TO DISSUADE HIM FROM TAKING THE VOWS. The baron found Roger quite cool and very determined. If the project that he liad conceived had been the result of excitement, the baron would have entertained some hope that, when the excitement had passed away, the desire engendered of it would have vanished with it ; but it was not so, and the matter was becoming very serious, the more serious because of its having occurred at this period of the reign of Louis XIV., or rather of Madame de Maintenon, when all things revolved about religion, and when such powerful protection was given to the heads of churches or the superiors of convents that, in many instances, young men and women of the first families of France had become monks and nuns in spite of the oppo- sition of their relatives. The baron, therefore, could think of no better plan to adopt with the chevalier than persuasion. And so he tried that; but to all the baron's pleas, Hoger responded that he was obeying an inner voice, that it was the voice of conscience, and that, from the moment of losing the only being tliat held him to earth, he had felt himself drawn by an irresistible vocation. The baron then addressed the rector of the college and solicited his help to combat the chevalier's resolve; but the rector replied that he would regard it as an offence in CONSTANCE APPEARS TO THE CHEVALIEK. 105 the sight of God to lead away from heaven a soul that was seeking salvation. Therefore all that could be extracted from him was that he Avould refrain from incit- ing Roger forward on the course upon which he had of his own accord entered ; that he had, moreover, imposed this restraint on himself up to this time, and that he should continue to do so. The baron really could ask no more. Three or four days were spent in fruitless effort. Finally, toward evening on the fifth day, there came a letter from the baroness who, informed by her husband as to the state of affairs, wrote to entreat the chevalier that he would come and spend a fortnight at Anguilhem before decisively making up his mind, promising the neophyte that if, at the end of this time his determination still held out, she would leave him free to follow his wishes. This request was too motherly and too reasona- ble for Koger not to accede to it at once. The next day, after having received the rector's bles- sing, the future Jesuit set out for Anguilhem in company with the baron and the abbe, the last two cursing from the bottom of their hearts the fatal day when Mademoi- selle de Beuzerie first set foot at Anguilhem. Indeed, since that unlucky day, it was plain that everything had been at sixes and sevens in the home until then so tran- quil, and whose inmates, formerl}^ the most staid in the province, were now spending their time chasing each other up and down the highways of tlie land. The baroness renewed the arguments already tried by the baron ; but, despite all her motherly persuasion, she could not vanquish the chevalier's obstinacy. On the other hand, it was in vain that his father talked to him of hunting, riding, and fencing; to all these worldly incitements Eoger would reply that they were profane 106 SYLVANDIRE. exercises, not at all hecoming in a man who intended to consecrate himself to the Lord. After this rcbufl", the baroness, too, began to despair of restoring to her son's mind tlie idi\is which he had formerly entertained as to a gentleman's future, and which the fatal event tliat we have just related seemed to have effaced from his mind. Thus, twelve days went by, during which the baroness renewed her pleading, but always in vain. At last she herself had apparently renounced all hope, and lloger was freed from her motherly besetments which, however, he had met with a firmness ever tempered with respect and veneration. The whole of the thirteenth day, therefore, passed in sadness and very nearly in silence; for, as Roger's intention had been the never-ending topic of conversation from the time of his arrival at Anguilhem, as soon as they ceased to speak of that, they knew not of what to speak. The evening was quieter and more melancholy even than the day had been, and each retired early to his own room. As usual, Roger said his prayer before a large picture representing Clirist on Mount Calvary, which, on his last return, already occupied with religious ideas, he had had brought into his bed-chamber from an ancient chapel in the chateau which had been converted to the uses of a ground-floor cellar. Then, wrought up into one of the fervid ecstasies that sometimes took possession of him after his prayer, he got into bed and very soon fell into that state of somnolence which is neither waking nor sleeping. On extinguishing his light, Roger had remarked a cir- cumstance due no doubt to chance, but Avhich in his pious fervor he had attributed to one of those special favors which he believed heaven sometimes granted him. A ray of moonlight, falling through an oval aperture made in CONSTANCE APPEARS TO THE CHEVALIER. 107 the upper part of the shutter that closed his window, lighted up the sacred scene of the picture, placed exactly opposite the foot of his bed. It was with eyes fixed on this picture that Roger had let himself sink gradually into that religious rapture of which we have spoken and which began to fade into somnolence, when it seemed to him that the picture was turning of itself and that a young girl, covered with a long white robe and Avith veiled face, was substituted, by a slow and almost insen- sible motion, for the sacred picture ; then, when the painting had completely disappeared and the nocturnal ray that had illuminated it shone on the young girl with its soft light, tlie apparition gently raised her veil, and Roger, trembling with both joy and fear, recognized Constance. It was indeed she, it was indeed that charming daughter of earth become an angel of heaven; and Roger's first movement was to rise in bed and extend his arms to her, but by a wave of the hand, the shade signified to the youth that he must remain where he was, and in a voice whose every tone vibrated to the depths of her lover's heart, she said, — " Roger, I have been permitted to come and say that the sacrifice you wish to make to my memory is too great. It is not your destiny to bury yourself in a cloister, but to hand down the name of your fathers which would die with you ; therefore renounce, I entreat you, this idea of taking the vows, and if need be, I command you. Adieu, Roger, remember what I say ; for I have spoken the will of the Lord." At these words, a movement the reverse of that which had brought the white vision to Roger's view took place, and, regaining the position that it had for a moment left, the picture was again seen in the light. 108 SYLVANDIRE. Roger had nMiiaineJ breatliless, liis brow damp with perspiration and his eyes wildly staring, as h)ng as the vision lasted; but scarcely had it disappeared when, doubting his senses, he leaped out of bed in order to assure himself by touching it that the picture was indeed in its place. Nothing was altered. His hands ran over the frame, the canvas, the wainscoting, and he con- vinced himself that no one could either have entered or left the room, fastened as it was from within. It was truly then the spirit of Constance that had appeared to him. We can imagine what the remainder of the niglit was to Roger. As long as it was dark, he had no doubt as to the reality of the vision ; she was there still, present to his sight. He saw again the pale sweet face of his young friend ; he heard her gentle voice ; he felt, so to speak, reaching toward him, that hand whose imperative movement had commanded his silence and quiescence, and whose gentle gesture had bade him adieu. But, whatever the young man's faith and trust, when the tints of dawn came to chase from his room the solemn and mysterious obscurity of the night, the stones of the fanciful castle erected in a dream fell one by one, and he passed from the profoundest conviction to the most absolute incredulity. Yet, during the day he was restless, dreamy, pre- occupied. Several times his mother inquired what cause had brought about the change visible in him since the day before, but the baroness obtained no answer save a wan smile full of melancholy. As for the baron, he seemed to have resigned himself to the chevalier's de- termination, and to have lost all hope of inducing him to renounce his project. The day passed, however, without anything unusual CONSTANCE APPEARS TO THE CHEVALIER. 109 occurring. Roger left the chateau and went for a walk in the little wood surrounding it. Occasionally, quick blushes suffused his countenance, as if the blood were suddenly rushing from his heart to his face ; occasionally he would give a start, and his eyes would seem to follow through the grove a fleeing shadow, visible to him alone ; then, suddenly, a deep sigh would escape him and two great tears fall from his eyes. That was much for Roger, since, for more than six months, he had not been known to weep. Roger waited for night with an uneasiness that was mingled with dread. More than once, during the even- ing meal, his mother, who did not take her eyes from him, saw him furtively wipe away the perspiration that beaded his forehead. At the same hour as on the day before, he asked to be allowed to retire, and he left the dining-room for his bed-chamber. We have told how, with the daylight, doubt, then in- credulity, and finally, the conviction that his spiritual visitant was but a dream, had succeeded each other in Roger's mind; but, in contrary train, with the approach of night, his heart began to resume its faith, and, when he found himself alone in his room, lying in bed, his light extinguished, when he again saw the same moon- light illumine the same picture, all his former certainty returned and the supposed dream again enforced on him its reality. There was almost an hour of silence, during which nothing stirred and Roger heard only the beating of his heart. For an hour his burning eyes were unavailingly fixed upon the motionless picture; then suddenly the frame seemed to merge into the wainscoting and, as on the night before, the picture receded from his sight. After a moment there was no more doubt, for he began 110 SYLVANDIRE. to distinguish the whitu robe of Constance, then the young gii'l distinctly appeared ; the miracle of the previous night had again been wrought. " lioger, " she said, "you have not believed my words, and I am permitted to come and repeat them, lloger, abandon this melancholy resolution which brings despair to your family. Roger, I accept not the sacrifice that you would make. You are born for the world and not for the cloister; live for the world and be happy." Then, as if this time the vision still feared lest doubt should come to efface the impression made by her pres- ence, she detached from her girdle a cluster of pansies like that she had in life let fall in the corridor of the convent at Chinon; and, witli the gesture made in wav- ing adieu, she let it fall to tlie floor. Roger sprang from his bed; but already the picture was in its place. Not a trace remained of the maiden's apparition, unless it were the bunch of pansies which with an impulse, full at once of joy and fear, an impulse, we must confess, infinitely more worldly than pious, the chevalier carried to his lips. There was no room for doubt this time; a material, visible, tangible proof of the gracious phantom's passage had remained in Roger's hands. The young man re- turned to his bed pressing the flowers to his heart, and still expecting some new apparition. But it was in vain. He was awake with the day. This time, as before, his first impulse was to believe that he had dreamed; but the flowers were there in his hand, faded, but present. Ah ! this time, the matter presented an aspect very different from yesterday's; the shade of Constance, wrested from her tomb by a miracle of love, had really been present with him. CONSTANCE APPEARS TO THE CHEVALIER. Ill On the morrow, Roger was to set out on his return to Amboise; hut would the gracious apparition dare to follow him to Amhoise, into the midst of that formidable assemblage of black-robed men 1 Would not going back be to disobey the orders of those lips that he had so loved ? But how could he retract a determination so publicly signified ? How, after having resisted every entreaty of his father and his mother, could he himself suggest pro- longing his stay at Anguilhem ? It was impossible, worse than impossible, it was ridiculous ; and Roger, let us say, for it is not our purpose to be eternally sounding his praises, was possessed of almost as much self-respect as love. The day passed then in mutual constraint. The baron, as usual, seemed reconciled to the separation ; but the poor mother did not lose sight of her son. It was plain that only the fear of another refusal restrained her plead- ings. On his side, Roger wished nothing better than to be detained ; the result was that only an opportunity was needed for them to come to an understanding. The Aljbe Dubuquoi supplied the opportunity by asking his pupil at what hour he intended to depart on the next day. Roger endeavored to answer and stammered ; the baroness at once threw her arms around his neck, asking if it were really true that he was still determined to forsake her. Then Roger was unable to restrain his tears, tears at once of grief and joy, and, in a low, submissive voice, but to us who know the motive by which he was actuated, full of hypocrisy, he said, — " Madame, are you not my mother, and should I not obey you 1 Command me, then, and I will obey." The baroness uttered a cry of joy, and hastened through the house proclaiming to all whom she met that her son 112 SYLVANDIKE. would not go until later, and perhaps he would not go at all. Koger left his parents at the same hour as on the pre- vious evening ; he was in haste to return to his room. This time, however, he entered it with a greater, a far more terrible doubt. The phantom had seemed to read his thought, since, on the preceding night, it hail come to dissipate his hesitations. Therefore, now that all uncer- tainty was gone, now that he had indeed decided to fol- low the commands given him by the spirit of Constance, now that he had even promised his mother that he would not go away, might not the phantom think its mission accomplished, and consider it needless to appear again? It was an anxious thought. Roger was becoming accus- tomed to that lovely shade, which was at least some amends in default of the substance. And so, once shut up in his room, Roger lost no time in getting into bed and extinguishing his light ; but the moon had begun to wane, so that the illuminating beam, which the night before had been late, was this evening later still. At last, after having lighted up in succession the corner of the room and then the frame, it settled upon the picture : it was the moment so impatiently awaited by the chevalier. iS'ever did invocation fall more earnestly from lips of enchanter than did that which escaped the poor chevalier's when beseeching Constance to appear again, if only for a last time. And the chevalier's prayer was granted. This time again, as on the night before, and the night before that, the picture disappeared, and the white vision came in its place. Roger uttered a cry of joy. "Yes, it is I," said the apparition; "it is I, come to say adieu. Adieu, then ! You have obeyed the will of the Lord ; may the Lord recompense you. Adieu, adieu ! " CONSTANCE APPEARS TO THE CHEVALIER. 113 And while the phantom was disappearing with these words, it seemed to the chevalier that he heard two or three badly stifled sobs, which proved that the dead re- gi'etted the new separation as much as the living. " Oh ! no, no ! " cried Roger, springing out of bed ; " oh ! no, not adieu, not adieu ! Oh, if I thought I should never see you again, Constance, Constance, I should go mad ! " And Roger fell on his knees at the foot of the picture, his hands held out to the Saviour, entreating him who had suffered to have pity on him who was suffering. But Roger was invoking only a senseless picture, a speechless canvas. He was alone ; the last vibrations of Constance's voice were extinguished ; the shade had disappeared. Then he regained his bed, quite overcome with grief ; he had heard Constance's adieu ; what he dreaded had happened. That appearance was the last, the stone had fallen back upon the tomb, the stone would never be lifted again. It seemed to Roger as if he were losing Constance a second time. He passed more than an hour in a state of feverish agitation amounting almost to despair. That thrice repeated adieu, the last two spoken with sobs, kept ringing in his ears, and, without knowing what he spoke, he himself repeated involuntarily, — " Adieu ! adieu ! " Suddenly it seemed to Roger that a sound of light foot- steps, an almost inaudible sound, a sound that might betray a sylph walking over the flowers, came from the other side of the wainscoting. Roger rose in bed, despairing, hoping, and trembling at once, his eyes fixed on the picture, now left in obscurity ; but, in spite of the dim light, it seemed to him that the frame, which alone stood out in the night, 8 114 SYLVANDIRE. was again moving ; soon he doubted no longer, the picture was turning. Constance appeared for the second time ; but this time the apparition left the wainscoted wall, and spring- ing lightly to the floor, ran toward the youth, crying, — " Koger ! Roger ! I am not dead. Roger ! I am not the spirit of Constance ! I am Constance herself! " And, simultaneously, the chevalier, almost mad with joy, became sensible of the fact that it was indeed no ghost but a living being that he was holding in his arms. THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS. 115 VIII. HOW IT WAS LEARN^ED AT ANGUILHEM AND AT BEU" ZERIE THAT THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS, EX- CAPTAIN OF THE FRIGATE THETIS, HAD DIED IN- TESTATE, AND WHAT MODIFICATIONS THE NEWS WROUGHT IN THE PLANS OF THE TWO FAMILIES. In few words, Constance acquainted Eoger with what had taken place. The time which our fugitive had lost in travelling from Amboise to Chinon had given the Abbe Dubuquoi ample time to hasten to Anguilhem and inform the baron and the baroness of the chevalier's new escapade. Thereupon they had rightly conjectured that he was headed for Chinon, and they had considered plans for putting an end to this amorous waywardness which bade fair to leave the parents of the two young people not a moment's repose. The Abbe Dubuquoi had then con- ceived the happy inspiration of proposing to the baron that Roger should be made to believe that Constance was dead. The baroness, understanding with her mother's heart that such unexpected news would prostrate her son with grief, had for a long time held out against the fraud. Finally she was obliged to yield to the plausible reasoning of her husband, and the baron had set off to take the mother superior into the plot. As it chanced, a nun had died but two days before. Thus every facility was presented for the execution of the plan. We have seen how the plan was carried out. 116 SYLVANDIRE. But what they had not been able to foresee was the intensity of the grief excited in tlie clievalier by this news; and what they had especially ])een \inable to • predict was tlie final decision to which his grief had led. So, Avhcn the news reached Anguilhem that Roger wished to become a Jesuit, the baron and the baroness were reduced to the depths of despair. As we have seen, the baron set out immediately for Amboise, hoping that his paternal influence would restore the chevalier to more rational ideas; but, after the first conversa- tion held with his son, the baron had seen that the resolution was thoroughly grounded in the chevalier's mind, and that nothing in the world would ujjroot it. He at once wrote to the baroness to acquaint her Avith the desperate certainty at which he had just arrived. And then the baroness also had formed a scheme, — one inspired by her motherly heart, — which was to call to her aid Constance, whom the chevalier believed to be dead, to command the unhappy boy to relinquish his foolish intention. She herself had repaired to Beu- zerie. She had so pleaded with the viscountess, so en- treated the viscount, that neither was able to withstand the baroness' tears, and they consented that their daughter should seem to return from the other world in order to restore the chevalier to this. Then the baroness had written to her husband, asking him to exact, at least, that the chevalier should return and spend a fortnight at Anguilhem before taking a final resolution, a request that Roger had been unable to deny his father. "We have seen how the first twelve days passed at Anguilhem, and how the chevalier's obstinacy had rendered the intervention of Constance indispensable. THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS. 117 Everything had gone as the parents had desired. The piece of mechanism, prepared by the most skilful car- penter in Loches, had worked to perfection. The baron and the baroness had closely followed the impres- sion made on their son by the successive apparitions of Constance ; the third had finally completed the work of the first two. Constance, occupying a room with her mother in one of the remotest corners of the chateau, had with tears in her eyes and despair in her heart said her last adieux to Roger, when, her grief sweeping away every other consideration, she had herself taken a firm resolve and, profiting by her mother's slumber, she had risen, dressed herself again, gone out on tiptoe, and, rid of the surveillance of those who until then had dic- tated her speech and curbed her feelings, she sped from corridor to corridor to the place in the wainscoting wliere she had been accustomed to take her stand, pushed the spring, and appeared to the chevalier, no longer as a shadow, but as an entrancing reality. E/Oger was a youth of quick impulses. Dazed for a moment, — as if a dead man should be dragged from his grave, and, on suddenly opening his eyes, he should again behold the sky and find himself restored to life and happiness, — he had only enough strength not to fall crushed beneath the weight of his joy ; but, that moment gone, he saw that the opportunity, so long sought by him, had come of its own accord, unique, sudden, fleeting, and he instantly resolved not to let it escape him. A moment later the chevalier was ready. As for Constance, she had written her lover that her life be- longed no longer to herself but to him, and that it was for him to dispose of it. When, therefore, he proposed that they should that very instant fly together, and gain 118 SYLVANDIRE. the nearest village Avliorc they could he married, not only did she oiler no o])jection, but she assured him that she was ready to follow hiiu to the end of the earth. The chevalier no longer doubted that he was at last entering upon the conclusion of his romance. The two immediately set out, gliding along the corri- dors and down the staircase as noiselessly as two shadows, and at last they reached the court. Roger ran to the stable, saddled Christopher, who had for some time been resting from his past fatigues, but who, always kind and docile, allowed himself to be handled without resistance. Then he partly opened the great gate as quietly as possible, sprang upon Christopher, made Constance get up on a stone block, and forced the horse close enough for her to mount behind hira. Then, when the maiden was well established, Roger set off at a gallop. They kept up this gait for two hours; but, as it was in the month of July, that is, when the days are the longest of the year, at the end of those two hours day- light had begun to appear. Roger then thought it expe- dient to diminish his speed, since a youth and maiden riding at full gallop must excite suspicion. He ob- served at the same time, on their right, a village which he recognized as La Chapelle-Saint-Hippolyte, and he turned in the direction of this village. Of matrimonial procedure Roger had no knowledge but what he had extracted from the fiction of the day. Now, in the romantic tales of the time, all marriages opposed by the parents were solemnized without their knowledge by some good priest of the village, who, acting upon the letter of the Lord's commandment given to our forefathers to increase and multiply, believed himself to be obeying the precept of the Bible in sanctifying as THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS. 119 many marriages as possible. Full of confidence, there- fore, Roger proceeded to the parsonage, and, having knocked at the door, which was opened by a plump, kind-looking housekeeper of thirty-five or forty years, he asked to speak with the cure. The cure was getting ready to say mass, which to Eoger seemed a good omen. He explained as briefly as possible to the cure what had brought them, and asked if he could not perform the marriage ceremony forth- with. The good priest smiled at the young man's haste; but he explained that there were a few pre- paratory formalities to be gone through with, such as confessing, giving their family and baptismal names, swearing that they were not related in any degree pro- hibited by the church, etc. , etc. ; that these formalities always necessitated a delay of twenty-four or thirty-six hours; that, consequently, however good his own will in the matter, the marriage blessing could not be pro- nounced until the morrow or the day after. However, while waiting, the two young people might stay at the parsonage, Eoger in the charge of the cure, and Con- stance in that of his housekeeper. This mischance was very distasteful to Eoger, as he insisted most emphati- cally; but the cure was inflexible and, as he declared that none of his fellow cures would be any more tract- able than himself, Eoger preferred staying at La Chapelle-Saint-Hippolyte rather than going to another village, a course which , without affording him prompter opportunities, would expose him to recognition, or, at least, to notice. The cure then went to say mass; and, as he seemed to share Eoger's fears, he cautioned the two children against being seen at either door or window. Then, on his return, he proceeded to the usual questions- 120 SYLVANDIRE. The young man declared tliat his own name was Roger Tancrede d'Anguilhom, and tliat the young girl's was Agla^ Constance de Beuzerie ; that the former was aged seventeen yoars and five months; the latter, fifteen years lacking eight days. Moreover, they hoth took oath that they were neither co -sponsors nor cousins nor related, in short, in any degree whatever. The cure then told them to prepare for confession, each making examination of his conscience, while he himself went to attend to some urgent duties. On his return the two confessions took place, Need- less to say they were those of two children, pure and chaste, and, while confessing the love that until then had led them into such foolish enterprises, neither of them had cause to blush even for a thought. The double confession seemed completely to reassure the good cure, who until then had not appeared quite free from some uneasiness. Then, under the pretext that it was essential that the two young souls should sin neither in thought nor deed nor by omission during the interval which separated the absolution and the marriage ceremony, he shut Roger in the studj'^ that contained his ecclesiastical library, and Constance in his housekeeper's room. At dinner, however, the two young people came together again. Roger then asked the cure if he thought he could marry them on the next day, to which the worthy man replied that he saw no difficulty unless some obstacle were meanwhile to intervene. This assurance somewhat allayed Roger's uneasiness, and enabled him after dinner to withdraw to the library without much difficulty. There he found a cot which had been made up while he was at table. The hour of supper arrived. As in the morning, the THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS. 121 two young people again found themselves face to face. Roger was beaming with happiness. After the miracle of resurrection that had been effected, he thought separation no longer possible. Constance was shy and blushing; but joy glinted in luminous sparks from her drooping eyelids; happiness forced a passage with every word that escaped her lips. After supper -the cure said prayers for every one. Then, prayers being over, each retired to his own apartment. Eoger tried to read ; but how can one read when a thought goes thrilling through the heart, sweeter, tenderer, more tuneful than any other thought on earth! And yet he read that wondrous poem, the love of Jacob and Rachel ; but he discovered that Rachel was of small consequence in comparison with Constance, and he con- fessed to himself that to deserve Constance he ought to undergo many other proofs than those to which Jacob had been subjected. And besides, it was a way to pass the time quickly, to spend it in dreaming. Eleven o'clock sounded, and at each solemn and measured stroke of the clock, Roger trembled as he thought that in eight hours he would be the husband of Constance. That sweet thought accompanied him to bed and pursued him during his sleep. He dreamed that it was day, and that some one had entered his room to say that the priest was waiting only for him. Just then it seemed to Roger that he really did see daylight through his half-shut eyelids, and that several voices were speak- ing loudly near him. The feeling was so real that Roger awoke, and, opening his eyes, found himself face to face with his father. At sight of him Roger's countenance assumed an ex- 122 SYLVANDIRE. pression of despair that however thoroughly prepared the baron might liavo hccn to administer a severe repri- mand to the confirmed runaway, he liad not the heart to do it, and already discerning the sullcring of the man in that poor child's soul, he Avas satislied to hold out his hand, as he pronounced the one word, — "Courage! " Perhaps Kogcr might have resisted reproaches, but he could not hold out against indulgence. He cast himself into the baron's arms, asking him if he was going to take him away from Constance. The baron regarded him fixedly, and seeing the anxiety depicted on every feature, he said, — " Listen : my first word was courage ! my second shall be hope ! " "0 father, father!" cried Eoger; "I have already been so cruelly deceived, that I really can hope no longer. " " But when we deceived you, Eoger," said the baron, " we were poor, while now — " " Now, father, are we rich? " "Possibly," replied the baron. " Possibly ! " cried "Roger, " possibly ! What do you mean, father? How can our fortune have changed in a day 1 " " Our cousin the Vicomte de Bouzenois is dead. We received the news this morning, the baroness and I." " Died naming us his heirs 1 " eagerly demanded Eoger. " If that were the case, I should not have said that possibly we were rich. I should have said that we were rich to a certainty. The viscount died intestate." "Intestate, father?" "Yes, intestate, chevalier." THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS. 123 The baron pronounced the word with such emphatic deliberation that the chevalier thought it must be of the highest importance. " Then what follows 1 " asked the young man in a faltering voice, for he did not yet see how the death of Monsieur de Bouzenois brought him nearer to Constance. " This, monsieur," replied the baron. " The succes- sion is open, and is disputed with us only by a son of a former marriage, who pretends that his mother gave her property to Monsieur de Bouzenois only on condition that the entire fortune should revert to himself." "Well, father?" " Well , the documents are in the hands of the public administrator. A lawsuit will follow; but Coquenard, my attorney, writes me that we cannot lose the suit if we push it with ever so little activity and intelligence, and, if we gain this lawsuit — " " If we gain the lawsuit, father — " " We shall have an income of seventy-five thousand livres, nothing less; and then. Monsieur de Beuzerie does the courting and we do the looking down from the height of grandeur; we, in short, make the sacrifice, in forming an alliance with him." "0 father, father, what hope you hold out!" cried Roger; " what! do you believe, do you think — " " I know what I believe; I know what I think," said the baron. " The kind cure whom you took into your confidence expedited a messenger to Beuzerie as well as to Anguilhem. Consequently, I met the viscount three leagues from here, hastening after his daughter, just as I was hurrying after you. He was furious at what had happened ; but , at the first word I breathed to him of Maitre Coquenard's letter he was much appeased, 124 SYLVAXDIRE. and li.as even permitted it to appear that, after the scandal to wliich your flight with his daughter Avould not fail to give rise in the noighl)orhood, he regarded before- hand his marriage project with the Comte de Croisey as broken olf." " father, father, what are you saying? " " You imderstand, monsieur," replied the baron, " it was an appeal to my honor. " " And what did you say , father 1 " " I said that between ourselves, as gentlemen, a title Avas only a title, that the name was everything, and that it was known throughout the province that, although the d'Anguilhems were only barons, they dated from the first crusades, while at the beginning of our great king's reign, tlie Comte de Croisey 's grandfather had been at great pains to prove that he was qualified to enter His Majesty's stables; which was the same as saying that if the Baronne d'Anguilhem Avere presented at court, she would certainly take precedence of the Marquise de Croisey." " What did he say 1 " " He held out his hand and answered, * That is true, baron ; we will talk of that again. ' " "0 monsieur! father! " exclaimed Koger, " how good you are ! And Constance, where is Constance?" " Constance is with her father, as I am with you. Constance will return to Beuzerie, as we shall return to Anguilhem, I shall pay a visit to the viscount to- morrow, and then we shall talk all this over." " father ! " said Eoger, " lay great stress on my love ; say that I adore Constance ; say that I cannot live without her; say that — say that I shall die if they take her away from me, say — " " I shall say that, in all probability, you will one day 1 THE VICOMTE DE BOUZENOIS. 125 have an income of seventy-five thousand livres, and believe me, monsieur, such eloquence will outweigh yours." " Say what you will, dear father, but obtain an answer from the viscount." "In this matter let me act," said the baron; "for, rest assured, I know better than you what course to take. " " And — and — " stammered Roger. " And what ? " asked the baron. " And Constance 1 " " Well , and Constance 1 " " Shall I not see her again ? " " That, monsieur, is quite impossible. You can now see Mademoiselle de Beuzerie only under the paternal roof, and with the consent of the viscount and the viscountess. " "And do you think, monsieur," ventured Roger, timidly, " that their consent will be long in coming? " " In three or four days, I hope." " In three or four days ! " said Roger ; " alas ! that is a very long time. " " And when you thought never to see her again, it was a much longer time, it seems to me." "And, too," added Roger, "I wished to become a Jesuit." "Yes, yes, monsieur," said the baron, "yes, I know it, indeed. You had quantities of ideas, each more ingenious than the other; oh! you are a man of resources ! We will give your imagination something to do." " In what way , father 1 " " We will tell you at Anguilhem." And, without the chevalier's being able to gain any 126 SYLVANDIRE. enlightenment from tlio baron on the scheme in which he seemed to be the chief actor, they both mounted their horses and took the road to the chateau. It is unnecessary to add that the baron alone took leave of the good curd, and that Roger by no means begged the favor of bidding him adieu. THE CHEYALIEK's MAKRIAGE NEAKLY ARRANGED. 127 IX. how and on" what terms the marriage of made- moiselle de beuzerie with the chevalier d'anguilhem came near being arranged by their next of kin. This was the third time that Roger was returning to Anguilhem after having seen his plans frustrated; but this tiroe, however, he was not returning quite without hope. Notwithstanding Roger's ignorance of the ways of the world, he realized perfectly the change wrought in his projects by the death of Monsieur de Bouzenois, even supposing that, as his father had said, the ex- captain's inheritance were subject to a lawsuit. Upon his arrival at the chateau his hopes were re- doubled, for the baroness, who was watching for the baron and his son at the tower-window which commanded a view of the surrounding country, descended at sight of them, and appeared at the door with a smiling coun- tenance. Roger spurred his horse directly toward her, dismounted, and cast himself into her arms whis- pering,— " Do you, too, hope, mother? Oh! don't deceive me, don't deceive me! " "Yes, my child, yes, my dear child," returned the baroness; " yes, be tranquil; all will go well." In fact the baroness, like her husband, had witnessed a metamorphosis. When the viscountess, who had accompanied Constance to Anguilhem, had in the morn- 128 SYLVANDIRE. ing discovered her daughter's lliglit, she was furiously angry. In the very midst of the explosion of maternal wrath camo the letter from IMaitre Coquenard, announ- cing to the d'Anguilhems the deatli of Monsieur de Bouzenois. Now that letter had quieted the viscountess as by magic, and she liad appeared incontinently to for- get a portion of her grief in sharing the good news that her neighbors had just received. Finally, Avhen the messenger from the cure of La Chapellc-Saint-Hippolyte had arrived at the chateau all out of breath, announcing that the runaways were at the parsonage, it was almost with a feeling of regret that the viscountess heard that, thanks to the scruples of the good priest, the two children were not married. However, as she was unaware that the same message had been despatched to her husliand as well as to the baron, and as she wished to tell the viscount at once of the flight and of the event which made that flight almost good luck, she ordered her horse and coach, which, in order that Roger should not remark her presence, had been left at the farmer's, and she set out for Beuzerie, after having, in her adieux to the baroness, let fall a few words intimating as clearly as possible that a visit from the baron at Beuzerie Avould not only be well received, but that, under the circum- stances, it was regarded by herself as indispensable. The outlook, therefore, continued to be as favorable in the direction of the viscountess as it had been in the viscount's. As for Constance, the chevalier had reason to know that he could depend on her. Hence in a general council at which assisted the Abbe Dubuquoi, whose duties were rapidly being converted into a sinecure, it was arranged that the baron should the next day pay a visit to Beuzerie and speak of the marriage or be silent, as circumstances demanded; but THE chevaliee's maekiage neatily areanged. 129 the general opinion, even the abbe's, was tliat he would incontestably have to bring up the subject of the marriage. The great day, so impatiently awaited by Eoger, came at last. At six o'clock he was up and had awakened his father. But the baron was too punctilious an observer of the proprieties to present himself at Beuzerie before noon. Roger had therefore to curb his impatience, which he did by talking to his mother of Constance. At nine o'clock, mounted on Cln-istopher, the baron departed. Eoger exacted a promise that he would remain at Beuzerie no longer than was strictly necessary for discussing the various conditions relating to his marriage. The baron promised to return by four o'clock in the afternoon. At two o'clock Roger could stand it no longer. He slung his gamebag across his back, shouldered his gun, untied Castor, who, quite unlike Christopher, had remained for more than a year in a state of repose, and took the road to Beuzerie. AVhen he had gone almost a third of the way, he cavight sight of the baron who was coming back at full trot. His gait was a good omen. A few strides and Roger was at his side. In fact the news was good, and everything was settled, if not quite to Roger's taste, at least to his father's. Roger's suit was tacitly approved by the viscount and the viscountess. The next day the entire d'Anguilhem family was to pay a neighborly visit to Beuzerie. The visit was to pass off like any ordinary visit, having no special significance, since the viscount, full of prudence as he was, did not wish his new plans to be suspected. Then, on the day following his visit, or on the second day after it, Roger would leave for Paris, where he would personally superintend the lawsuit, on the issue of 9 130 SYLVANDIRE. which depended the viscount's final consent. That plan presented tlie double advantage of placing matters in the hands of the one most interested in tlieir termination, and of keeping lioger at a distance from Constance for a year at least, for in those days the shortest lawsuits were very long. Meanwhile Constance would return to the convent while she awaited her sixteenth year, and Roger his nineteenth. It was the age de rigueur for country marriages. All this contained Loth good and ill for Roger. He would have preferred to marry first and go afterwards. It seemed to him quite as logical and far more tolerable; and it was with the greatest difficulty in the world that the baron brought him to understand tliat the thing was impossible, since his marriage was to depend on his gaining the lawsuit. The agreement was, however, so clear and so squarely put, that the chevalier was forced to yield. Roger had therefore about decided to lend himself to this new scheme, when, at half a league from Anguilhem, they met the baroness, who, in company with the abbe, had in turn come to meet her husband and her son. And again the plan decided upon at the viscount's was set forth by the baron, and, to Roger's great despair, it met with general approval. The poor chevalier was thereupon constrained to surrender. It was settled therefore that they should the next day call on the Beuzeries, and, as there was no time to lose, that the chevalier should set out for Paris in three days. Yet we must say that Roger was unjust to Provi- dence. After having had Constance positively refused to him, after believing her dead, and wishing to turn Jesuit, he had recovered her again as faithful as ever, and, fortune and happiness in all probability coming THE chevalier's MARRIAGE NEARLY ARRANGED. 131 together, he had but to wait a longer or shorter time to become at once a rich nobleman and a happy hnsljand. In this twofold reflection there was matter for real consolation; and Eoger, weighing it in the balance of common sense, began to view the future in a rosier liglit than he had at the baron's first words, grad- ually losing sight of the departure in thinking of the return. Then, let us admit, the word Paris has at all periods had a magic ring for provincial ears. Paris is the goal toward which all young and vivacious temperaments strive. For the libertine, Paris is pleasure; for the ambitious, Paris is fame; for the speculator, Paris is fortune. Oftentimes had the word Paris been spoken in Roger's presence, but Eoger had never heeded it; for never had he supposed that such an event could arise in his life as that he should have occasion to journey to Paris. But suddenly the unlooked-for event was at hand. The word Paris went ringing through his ears to an accompaniment of the chinking of crowns, a kind of music that is always agreeable, even to the man that is least concerned. In short, that same evening, upon going to bed, Roger confessed to himself that, since he was absolutely forced to be separated from Constance for a certain lapse of time, it was better that the time should be spent in Paris rather than elsewhere. On the next day the baron and Roger donned their best attire , while the baroness put on the most beautiful of her six gowns. Then, at nine o'clock, all three got into the cariole and set off for Beuzerie. The visit passed off as had beforehand been planned by the baron and the viscount, that is to say, according to the rigid rules of an almost royal etiquette. There was no mention of what had taken place between the two 132 SYLVANDIRE. young people. Roger and Constance bowed as if they Avero for the first time hoing introduced to each other. The baron formally acquainted jSIon.sieur and Madame do IJcuzerio of the death of IMonsicur de Bouzenois, chevalier by grace of the king and captain of one of his frigates, received the condolences of the viscount and tlie viscountess, and annoiuieed that, the succession having given rise to a great lawsuit, his son, the clievalier, was about to leave for Paris the next day in order to attend to it. The viscount and the viscountess then wished the chevalier complete success in his undertaking, laying great stress on the pleasure they would personally take in his prosperity. Then they in turn let it incidentally be known that their daughter, being still too young to think of any establishment, would return to her con- vent at Chinon, Avhcre she would remain until it was time for her to marry. These official communications having been exchanged, the baron, the baroness, and the chevalier arose. Then, gravely bowing, they took leave of the viscount and the viscountess, entered the cariole, and went back to Anguilhem. That evening and the following day were spent in preparations for the chevalier's departure. In the even- ing, the baron solemnly desired Roger to ascend to his room. Roger understood that he was about to receive the paternal instructions, and he respectfully presented himself before the baron, who received him standing; as for the baroness, she was seated, and it was apparent that she had already wept much, and that she was obliged to summon all her self-control to keep from weeping still. The chevalier came slowly forward, and when within a few steps of his father, he bent his head. THE chevalier's MAKRIAGE NEARLY ARRANGED. 133 "My son," said the baron, "you are about to enter what is to you a new and an unknown world. Above all things guard your honor. A gentleman's honor is like a woman's reputation. Once tarnished, it can never be cleared. Above all, then, I repeat, watch over your honor. " You will form the acquaintance of young men, I will not say nobler than yourself, — any gentleman able to prove his nobility is the equal of any other gentle- man, — but of young men more favored than yovi. In their company, you will find gambling much in vogue. Play only when you cannot do otherwise. You are neither rich enough to be able to lose, nor poor enough to desire to win. In any case, if you have the misfor- tune to play and lose, sell even your last shirt to pay your debt. Every debt is sacred, but a gaming debt is doubly so. "We have concluded, the baroness and I, that one hundred louis will be sufficient for all your expenses during the year. Here, then, is the first half of that sum. The pieces are old, for they are our savings of fifteen years. Young and active as you are, you will appear at the court of law; you will bow before judges, you will seek powerful protection, and you will succeed, I hope. Fortune favors the young. " Every week you will receive from us a detailed letter, which every week you will answer with as exact details. So that, if we gain our suit, you yourself will have been the builder of your own fortune. Then, the lawsuit won, if you marry Constance, of which there can be no doubt, and if the marriage makes your happi- ness, you will owe your good fortune to no one but yourself, which, in this world, is indeed something. " You will travel with Christopher. He is a good 134 SYLYANDIKE. animal, hard to tire, well appearing, and ho would bo better still if you had not overridden him at times. He was shod yesterday. When passing through Saint Aiguan, have his mane and tail fashionably clipped. His trappings are neat, his saddle is excellent. You will iind my travelling pistols in the holsters. "Now, my son, you have sometimes given us pain. We forgive you, your mother and I. Fur my part, I have caused you much in the matter of that death story. I do not know whether I was justiiied in causing you that suffering. I think not, for it was a lie, and, even with good intention, a lie is always a lie. 1 ask God's pardon for it." " father! father! " cried Koger, unable to restrain his tears. " I did not say that to cause you sorrow, Eoger," resumed the baron, mistaking the sentiment that had wrested this exclamation from his son. " You have a good heart and a brave one, but your head is bad. Dis- trust yourself, therefore, even more than others. It is the last advice of your father who loves you. And now," continued the baron, himself deeply moved, "receive our blessing." Eoger fell on his knees, and, with a gesture full of tenderness and paternal dignity, the baron extended his hands, and, with eyes lifted toward heaven, laid them for an instant on his son's head. Kising, Roger cast himself into the arms of his mother. " Dear child," said the baroness, "go to your room, for I feel that you too have occasion for tears. For the rest, be reassured, as I shall write postscripts to your father's letters." Roger again kissed his mother, who, without his need- ing to speak, had responded so quickly to the inmost THE chevalier's MAERIAGE NEARLY ARRANGED. 135 thought of his heart. Then, after kissing the hand that his father extended to him, he withdrew to his room and wept, in fact, a good part of the night. When day came he dressed himself for his journey. The Baron d'Anguilhem had already risen and seen that everything was in readiness. Christopher was saddled and bridled and had a suitably filled portmanteau on behind. With deep emotion, the chevalier observed that the baron's eyes were almost as red as his own. Breakfast was served, but no one touched it. Every one was weeping or gulping down his grief. The baron was sensible that the sooner an end was put to a situa- tion so melancholy for all, the better it woiald be. On rising from the table, Eoger approached his tutor and asked his forgiveness for all the vexation he had caused him. The poor abbe, wholly selfish in the ordinary occurrences of life, in tones of deep emotion pardoned the thousand and one little peccadilloes committed by his pupil. Eoger went forth, giving his mother his arm and his father his hand. At the doorway he found the house servants weeping bitterly, for every one at Anguilhem worshipped Roger. He kissed them all, as if they were friends, and they Avept the more. Castor yelped aloud and bounded the length of his chain. One would have said the poor animal under- stood that his master was leaving home for a long time. His master went to him, and Castor stood up with his paws against his breast and kissed him after his own fashion. The baron and the baroness accompanied their son almost a quarter of a league; and then, as they must stop somewhere, the baron stopped abruptly. This time, being no longer under the solemn restraint of his 136 SYLVANDIUE. futlier's blessing, Roger cast himself into the baron's arms. Then came tlio poor mf)ther's turn. The baroness could not part with her child. Her poor heart was rent with sobs, and in the deptlis of her soul she cursed the unlucky inheritance that was tearing away her child. The abbe was gazing after them from the window of the tower and waving his handkerchief. At last the baron took his son by the hand, and, conducting him to his horse, he said, — " Let us part bravely, my son. E.eniem1)er that you are eighteen years old, and that, consequently, you are a man." Roger mounted Christopher, who, Avith drooping head and tail, seemed to partake of the general depression; but the mother once more ran toward her son with out- stretched hands, which he covered with kisses. At last the baron tore his wife away from those endless em- braces, and, with all the fortitude he could muster, said to his son, — " Spur on, monsieur, I command you." Roger obeyed and was off. At a hundred paces', how- ever, he looked back to see his mother once more. Then, when he saw her lying so helpless and weeping in the baron's arms, he went back, again kissed her, again pressed his father's hand, again galloped away, and five minutes later he had disappeared behind a clump of trees. Then in his poor heart Roger felt that there remained still other adieux to be said. He would not, he could not, go away without seeing Constance once more. The day on which he was to leave had been mentioned before Constance, and he hoped she had understood that, although it would take him slightly out of his way , he THE chevalier's MARRIAGE NEARLY ARRANGED. 137 would pass Beuzerie. He therefore urged Christopher on, and soon, rising beyond the warren, he saw the weather-vanes of the chateau. Roger continued to advance, hut all the while he kept glancing right and left with a remnant of timidity in the depths of his heart due to the former interdiction of the viscount and the viscountess. At a turn of the road, through the trees, he caught a glimpse of a white dress. He spurred on. It was Constance, who, sitting on the moss with a hook in her hand, was pretending to read. In an instant Eoger was beside her, and, springing down from Christopher, he dropped upon his knees. "Ah! here you are, Roger!" cried the young girl, " I expected you. " " And I, Constance," said Roger, " vras sure of finding you." " You are going then ? " " I must go. You know our happiness is at stake." " Yes, Roger, yes, " said the young girl ; " my mother has told me all. Our marriage is set for your return. You are to be rich, it seems. How fortunate I am! I shall owe you everything." " Oh! you are an angel, Constance," cried Roger. " I too can hardly believe in my future happiness, and I am still afraid lest you escape me." " It is you, rather, whom I may never see again, you who are going to Paris, and who will forget me in that great city." " I forget you, Constance ? Oh ! never, never. If I have no more to fear on your part than you have to fear on mine, I shall indeed be happy." " And what have you to fear about me ? " " What have I to fear, Constance 1 I am afraid of losing my lawsuit, and that the viscount will then 138 SYLVANDIRE. withhold his consent and marry you to the Marquis de Croisoy." " I will never marry any one hut you, Roger," replied Constance; "and if 1 am not to ho yours I shall he no cue's." " Swear, tlien, that you will marry only when I my- self release you from your oath." " I swear it. " " That you will helieve nothing that is said to you ahout mo unless you have it from my own mouth or see it written hy my own hand. " "I swear it," repeated Constance. " And I," said Koger, " swear in turn — " But Roger had not time to finish. At that instant a bullet whizzed past, harely ten feet distant from the young people, and the viscount was heard calling to his dogs. " My father ! " cried Constance in terror ; " oh , go ! go!" Roger pressed his lips to those of the pale and trem- bling girl, murmured the word adieu, and springing upon Christopher, was off at full speed. After riding a short distance he turned his head. Constance had disappeared. It then occurred to him that Constance was the only one bound, and that in exchange for the double oath made by her, he had not had time to promise her any- thing. However, as Roger was a man with a conscience, under his breath he swore to himself the oath that he ought to have sworn aloud. Poor Roger ! poor Constance ! Perhaps, thanks to this imprudent exclamation that has just escaped us, our readers count upon being able to guess beforehand what sad incidents threaten the THE CIIEVALIEK'S MARRIAGE NEARLY ARRANGED. 139 future loves of our two young people; but, at the risk of wounding their self-esteem with respect to the pene- tration of which they believed themselves possessed, we assure them that, whatever their suppositions, they can bear no relation to the strange events which remain for us to tell. 1-40 SYLVANDIRE. X. now THE CHEVALIER d'anGUILHEM MADE HIS ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. It took eleven days for tlie chevalier's journey from Anguilhom to Paris. While passing through Saint Aignan ho had, in accordance witli his father's sugges- tion, had Christopher groomed and rejuvenated hy the first veterinary of the place. At Orleans he had pur- chased a great coat and renewed the lace of his hat. At Versailles he had longed to stop and visit the court, but on comparing his own state with that of tlie sei- gneurs whom he met, he had been abashed by the con- trast, and had continued his way, and had thus reached Paris with no stops other than for eating, sleeping, and resting Christopher, all which, as we have said, did not prevent his consuming eleven days on the road. The chevalier arrived at Paris by way of Chaillot. This entrance to the capital was far from being at that time what it is to-day, hence Roger was not too greatly impressed by what he saw, and he maintained, with regard to the great city, a respectable degree of dignity. Yet he drew rein to admire the stately prison which arose below the convent of the Filles-Sainte-Marie, and which he at first took for a palace ; then he followed the Quai de la Savounerie and entered the Cours-la- Keine. Here, it must be admitted, his astonishment increased. The Louvre was in front of him. The Invalides, with its resplendent dome, was at his right. Then, as it was a fine summer day, a throng of carriages THE chevalier's ENTEY INTO SOCIETY. 141 filled with the handsomest seigneurs and the most ele- gant dames of the time coursed the thoroughfare at his left. Soon he found himself in the middle of a marble-j^ard, a vast, roofless atelier where Louis XIV. had the statues hewn with which he made France bristle, and which, extending along the Hue de la Bonne-Morue, covered the very spot to-day occupied by the Place de la Concorde. God rest the souls of those who have substi- tuted stone and iron for the marble and bronze with which it was filled at that epoch! On arriving at this marble-yard, which obstructed his course, the chevalier was embarrassed to know whether he should turn to the right or the left. He questioned a workman. "Monsieur," answered the latter, "although your horse looks like a good strong animal, he seems thor- oughly tired out. Don't take the quay, then, for the pavement is very bad. Go by the Porte Saint-Honore. Leave at your left the Pilles de la Conception and the Hotel de Luxembourg; then you will come to the Place Louis-le-Grand ; you will readily recognize it. It is a large square with a statue of the king on horseback. It is a good quarter in which to choose a hotel." The chevalier followed the route and the advice. He found the Place Louis-le-Grand at the point indi- cated; but, not daring to venture upon staying in so fine a quarter, he kept on his course a little distance beyond, and, finding a hotel of sufficiently modest appearance to seem in keeping with the state of his fortunes, he halted. Its sign was " The Golden Harrow." With an air quite assured for a provincial, the che- valier cleared the grand entrance, and, being fatigued, he abandoned Christopher to the care of a groom, ascended to a small room on the fifth floor, which was assigned to 142 SYLVANDIRE. him from liis appearance, went to bed, went to sleep, and awoke only on the morrow. The morrow come, his first thought was to go and present to a certain Marquis do Crette a very strong letter of introduction wliich his father had received from Monsieur d'Orquinon of a neighboring country-seat. But, as he stood at tlio Avindow, the chevalier remarked so great a difference between his own toilet and those of the people who passed on horseback and in carriages that he blushed for his own costume, notwithstanding that he had always thought it very gallant in the country. He therefore learned where he could find a dealer in second-hand clothing, whither he immediately repaired, and where he bought a coat that was almost new, a vest still presentable, a pair of clocked stockings, and a"sword. Thus transformed, the chevalier, thanks to his excel- lent personal appearance, was presentable even in Paris, notwithstanding that his sky-blue coat bore a knot of apple-green ribbon on the shoulder, a union of colors that might seem somewhat hazardous, but Avhich was undoubtedly an amorous fancy of its former proprietor. When he was arrayed in his new costume the chevalier thought he had better study the effect of his brisk attire upon less noble material than the marquis and the society that our debutant must meet at his house, and in order to experiment in animd v'di, Roger repaired to the house of Maitre Coquenard, his father's attorney, Rue du Mouton, near the Place de Greve. Roger, as we have said, was a handsome fellow, and although from the province, his bearing was that of a gentleman. The country tan would without doubt be recognized upon his rounded face and brawny hands; but he had a well-shaped leg, and from time to time his eye sparkled through his timidity. Yet his sword in- I THE chevalier's ENTEY INTO SOCIETY. 143 convenienced him sorely by beating the calves of his legs, for at Anguilheni he had not been in the habit of wearing a sword. The perpetual slapping caused him annoyance. Nor did he know, either, that he should require clowns to give way while he himself should yield the pavement to his superiors. Hence he turned out for a chair-porter, and jostled a man of quality; but his look of surprise saved him from the displeasure of the latter, while his athletic figure spared him the raillery of the former. In fact, as we have said, the chevalier stood five feet and seven or eight inches in height, and was of conformable build, a size which, in every land on earth, always inspires a degree of respect. Maitre Coquenard received Roger very graciously. And in turn Roger, a gentleman never standing on cere- mony, accepted the invitation extended him to share a stewed hare of most delicious aspect, and a hot pate of most savory odor. They took places at the table without further ceremony, and both began to feast in excellent style, and then they entered upon business matters. In order to deaden as much as possible the force of the blow that he was about to deal him, Maitre Coquenard em- ployed many delicate circumlocutions to inform Roger that the suit at law for the succession, which had brought him to Paris, was of all things the most difficult and the least certain; that, in accepting the right to inherit, the Baron d'Anguilhem was pledged by the very act of that acceptance in the sum of twenty thousand livres charged to the account of the dead man's debts. Roger was appalled at this preliminary statement. But this was not all. Maitre Coquenard further ex- plained that the initial expenses of their application during the last eight days already amounted to nine hundred livres. 144 SYLVANDIRE. This time Rogpr turned pale, and lost his appetite, for under all this, aside from the money lost, lay the contingency of his marrying or not marrying Constance; and we must say to the credit of our hero tliat, although twelve days had passed since he had left Mademoi sells de IJeuzerie, and he had since then seen a goodly stretch of country, and on the day before had gained his first taste of the capital, the maiden's image was as present to his memory as at the moment of his leavetaking. As for the effect produced on the chevalier's appetite, let us add that the dinner was approaching an end when he learned this news. I'rovided with this lugubrious intelligence, Roger re- entered The Golden Harrow with a step much less assured than that with which he had gone forth. To fulfil the promise made to his father, the chevalier began a letter to him in which he announced his fortu- nate arrival in Paris, his interview with Monsieur Coquenard, and the unpleasant news that he had gath- ered at the worthy solicitor's. He terminated his letter by saying that he was at that moment setting out to make use of Monsieur d'Orquinon's letter to tlie Marquis de Crette. In fact, his letter written and confided to the post, the chevalier cast a more critical glance at his toilet, changed his cravat, put on his cuffs, and set off, not without a beating heart, in the direction of the residence of the Marquis de Crette, situated in the Faubourg Saint Germain, Rue du Four, about two hundred yards from the Hotel de Montmorency. The especial cause of the chevalier's quickened pulse was his expectation of meeting a grave old man, severe and formal, after the pattern of Monsieur de Beuzerie, a style that was naturally antipathetic. Then, behind THE chevalier's ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 145 this grave old man, severe and formal, he could see a crotchety dowager with dull eyes and a shrill voice, and, attending this amiable old couple, a dozen insolent lackeys. There was hut one consolation for the cheva- lier in all this, — that old men are somewhat provincial even in Paris. But, on arriving at the hotel, quite contrary to what he had expected, he discovered lialf a dozen blooded horses, caparisoned in the very latest fashion, held by five or six valets in different liveries, but all of them so brilliant and gay that one could not but suppose that both animals and men belonged to young noble- men thoroughly versed in the fashions of the day; and all this, it must be said, disconcerted Eoger far more than the picture of an antique household which he had anticipated finding. The porter stood erect at the entrance, a three- cornered hat upon his head, a broad baldric across his shoulder, and a cane in his hand, warning off with equally aristocratic gesture both dogs and louts that loitered with gaping jaws and mouths before the gate of the hotel ; but when he saw Roger he carried his hand to his hat with the instinct that tells a lackey that he has to do with a gentleman, and inquired in what way he could serve him. Roger replied that he wished to speak with Monsieur le Marquis de Crette; whereupon the porter spoke to one of the valets who were holding the horses. The latter made a sign to a tall, ungainly fellow, whose seams were all covered with galloon, who introduced the chevalier into an elegant salon on the ground-floor looking into the court on one side and into tlie garden on the other. An instant later six young gentlemen, all of distin- guished appearance, jaunty and gay, descended the grand 10 146 SYLVANDIRE, staircase, leaping four steps at a time. One of tliem turned aside toward the salon ; the five others scattered about tlie court, each running to tlie liorse that was being held for him. " Who asked for me ? " cried, while still at a distance, the gentleman who had directed his course toward the salon. "Monsieur le Chevalier d'Anguilhem," answered the lackey. " The Chevalier d'Anguilhem," repeated the young man, as if searching his memory, " I do not know him." "That is true, monsieur," responded Roger, opening the door himself ; " and I beg a thousand pardons for having so ill chosen my time as to arrive just as you are ready to go out; but I pray you to fix yourself a time at which I may have the honor to return." This was said with a little awkwardness, but also with an amount of dignity that impressed the Marquis de Crette. " By no means, monsieur," responded the marquis, " I am quite at your service, now as always. Will you, therefore, kindly tell me to what I owe the honor of your visit? " These words were accompanied by a bow of exquisite politeness. "Monsieur le Marquis," answered the chevalier, "I present myself through the kindness of Monsieur d'Orquinon, your friend, I believe, and I wish to de- liver a letter from him." " I have not the honor of knowing Monsieur d'Orquinon personally," returned the marquis; "but he was, I remember, one of my poor father's most inti- mate friends, of whom I have heard him speak many a time." THE CHEVALIEE'S ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 147 " All! " thought Roger to himself, " the nicarquis loves his father. He will not ridicule me very much." Then, while the marquis hroke the seal and read his letter, Roger examined him in turn. He was a handsome, elegant youth of from twenty-two to twenty-four years of age, rather slight, but of perfect figure, and whose attire might have served as a model of elegance, as his speech, his gestures, his bearing would have served as a model of good manners ; a sur- vival, indeed, of the old nobility with an anticipatory graft of the new aristocracy, so soon to bloom in the reign of the regent. When he had read the letter, he raised his eyes to the chevalier. " Alas, monsieur, " he said, " this letter was addressed to the Marquis de Crette, my father, whom we have had the misfortune to lose during this last year; but I com- prehend that you had not learned of it in the country." Roger flushed. The phrase, "in the country," brought the blood to his face. " And yet, monsieur, I think we sent a letter to Orquinon; but this letter which you have done me the honor to bring proves that the death of the Marquis de Crette has not been heard of down there." Roger turned redder still than he had on the first occa- sion. " Down there " sounded to him like the antipodes. " No matter," continued the marquis, doubtless per- ceiving the young man's embarrassment, " the son takes the father's place among the friends of our family, and as you have kindly come to see us, you are welcome. Pray count upon me, then, without the least hesitation." " Monsieur le Marquis, you really overwhelm me. I am only a poor provincial, very ridiculous, I feel, and very tiresome, perhaps, for I have never been outside of 148 SYLVANDIRE. Anguilhem; but, I assure you, I know how to be grate- ful for your gracious reception." " But now you overwhelm mo in turn, monsieur," re- sponded the marquis as he saluted Roger with a cordial- ity that penetrated his heart. Then, turning to his friends who were chatting on the steps, he called, — "Come, messieurs, if you please, and let me present to you Monsieur le Chevalier d' Anguilhem, who is introduced to me by one of my father's most faithful friends." The young people drew near, and at their approach Roger saluted them with a bow that was not lacking in dignity. " We are just starting out for Saint Germain, cheva- lier," said the marquis; "are you at leisure to-day? If so, and if our society is not too disagreeable to you, we shall be delighted to have the honor of yours." " But, messieurs, you seem to be setting off on horse- back," observed Roger. " Yes, I understand," returned the marquis, "and you came by coach or chaise, and so you have no mount." " I have my own horse at the hotel ," Roger said with a smile; "but, I must confess, in all humility, that he would cut too sorry a figure beside yours for me to risk my poor Christopher in their company." "What! he is outspoken at his own expense," thought the marquis; "why, the lad is not so provin- cial as I supposed. Well," he resumed aloud, " we can manage that. I have a horse in the stable, one that we rejected because he is pretty difficult to manage. You shall take my horse and I will mount Marlborough. Besides, as you know, messieurs," added the marquis, laughing, " he owes me revenge. Marlborough has THE chevalier's ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 149 treated me as his namesake was in the liabit of treating Monsieur de Villars. He threw me the other day, flat on my back, as our friend Gueriniere says." " P)ut," timidly remonstrated Eoger, " do not incon- venience yourself for me. Monsieur le Marquis." The marquis mistook his meaning, and, approaching Roger, he asked in a low tone, — " You ride, do you not, monsieur 1 " "A little. Monsieur le Marquis; but you did not understand me. I have the honor to suggest that you mount your usual horse, and permit me, if you will, to ride Marlborough." "Ah! ah!" ejaculated the marquis, as he gazed in astonishment at Roger. " Why not? " said Roger; " for my own part, I am a countryman, messieurs. I have ridden a great deal, so much that I do not know whether it is because I under- stand horses or they understand me, but my seat is very secure. Therefore, have no concern about me, and if my society is not less welcome than it was a moment ago", and you still wish me for a comrade, why, have Marlborough saddled. " "Faith, monsieur, I will not deprive you of the honor. Boisjoli," cried the marquis to one of his men, " saddle Marlborough ! " The groom turned toward the stables, thrusting out his tongue with a wink at his fellows, as if plainly saying, — " Good! now we shall have some fun." " But," said the marquis, " you are in shoes and silk hose. You must at least have boots and spurs, certainly." " I can go to my hotel and get them," replied Roger. " Where are you staying 1 " 150 SYLVANDIRE. "Rue Saint Honors." " No, it is too far. Eameau-d'or," cried the marquis, addressing another servant, " go to my bootmaker's and have him bring live or six pairs of riding-boots; quickly ! " The valet left. "Now, my dear chevalier," said the marquis, "you shall know at least where I am taking you. We are having a bachelors' party at Saint Germain's. You see that you have come very opportunely, for I presume that you are not averse, on coming to Paris, to learning how they behave here. Then, your education perfected in this respect, you will go away carrying ofif your millions, — for you should know, messieurs," continued the mar- quis, turning to his comrades, " that IMonsieur d'Anguil- hem comes to Paris, I am informed, to enter into a poor little inheritance of fifteen hundred thousand livres." " Peste! " exclaimed the young men in chorus; " ac- cept our sincere congratulations." "Take my advice, Monsieur le Chevalier," said one young man with the quick familiarity that obtains among people of rank, "cut that down a figure or two before taking it away, and let us show you how to set about it." "Ah! pardleu ! chevalier," cried the Marquis de Crette; "you may trust that to d'Herbigny; he is past- master in that sort of undertaking. He has already eaten up two uncles and an aunt." "Come," said another, "who is the worthy defunct that has given up a million and a half % " " My cousin, Monsieur le Vicomte de Bouzenois," said Roger. " In that case, my dear chevalier, give me your hand. THE chevalier's ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 151 We mast be of kin to each other, liy the left hand. I have succeeded to his hist mistress." " Is your portion worth as much as mine 1 " asked Roger, shaking his hand. "Come, come, not so bad! " exclaimed the Marquis de Crette; " what do you say, Treville? " " I say that Monsieur le Chevalier d'Anguilhem will give the lie to the saying, 'stupid as a millionaire.' He will be rich and witty: gaudeant bene nati." "Amen," said Crette. "Chevalier, here come your boots." Roger accompanied the bootmaker to a small dressing- room. " Well, messieurs," said the marquis, looking after him as he disappeared, "agree with me that this lad is not at all bad for a provincial. He will bore us much less than we might have expected in the beginning." Five minutes later Roger emerged from the dressing- room, booted and spurred in a way to have made any courser other than Marlborough tremble. On gaining the steps a groom handed him a riding-whip. The young gentlemen mounted their horses and Boisjoli led up Marlborough. He was an admirable dark-bay, with waving mane, fiery nostrils, bloodshot eyes, and slender legs, whose veins stood out and crossed like network. Roger looked him over like a connoisseur, and understood that he had a worthy adversary ; nor did he neglect any neces- sary precaution. He separated and gathered up the reins, settled himself in the stirrups, and then, when he found himself firm in the saddle, he made a sign to Boisjoli to let him go. It was the moment for which Marlborough was waiting. Scarcely was he free before he began to jump, 152 SYLVANDIKE. to rear, to shy, to execute, in sliort, all the mancEuvrcs by whose aid he was accustomed to unseat his riders; but this time he liad met his master. Roger permitted him for a time to perform all his capricious antics, and contented himself with so accommodating his own movements to them, that horse and rider seemed but one. Then, when he thought the time had come for putting an end to all those whims, he began to make his knees felt so effectually that Marlborough understood that liis affairs had reached a crisis. Thereupon, he redoubled his efforts; but this time both whip and spur played their part in such fashion that the horse began to whinny with pain and toss flakes of foanv. At last, after ten minutes of desperate struggle, Marlborough recog- nized that he was vanquished. Roger then amused himself by making him execute circles, as in a train- ing school. Then he put him through a course of paces, of curvettings, and of all, in short, that the famous La Gueriniere, the Franconi of the day, was in the habit of teaching to the best broken horses. Our young gentlemen had at first watched the proceed- ings with the greatest curiosity, but later with the greatest pleasure. The Marquis de Crette, especially, •was very proud of Roger's triumph; and, when Master Marlborough was entirely quieted, he advanced to con- gratulate the chevalier, upon which the eulogies of the other young people mingled in chorus. They started for Saint Germain. All along the way the entire conversation Avas of the dulness into which the rigorous strictness of Madame de Maintenon and the austerities of Louis XIV. had plunged France. These madcaps invoked all the devils to fly away with the widow Scarron, whom they spoke of only as " the old woman." THE chevalier's ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 153 There was, indeed, already a party that ridiculed Pere Lachaise and his august penitents, — a party that was beginning to rally around the Due d' Orleans and making opposition to the old order of things; but the faction was very weak as yet, and as it was in great dis- favor at Versailles, it was rather hazardous to avow openly that one belonged to it. Koger, having been raised among the provincial nobility who made, as we have said, a systematic oppo- sition, felt himself quite at home, and took his part quite acceptably in the refrain of maledictions with which they reviled the favorite. He even enriched the subject with ditties of Touraine about Pere Lachaise and the directress of Saint Cyr, composed by some wits near Loches. Moreover, he thought he was being very audacious, and was only gay. But, on the whole, what Eoger particularly admired was the way in which these gentlemen trifled with their frills and fingered their ruffles, the exceeding superiority of the cut of their garments, the marvellous choice of stuffs whose colors harmonized so pleasantly, each with another, that this very harmony filled him with dread. He did not believe that he could ever manage so to pinch his waist and yet wear his clothes with such ease. In spite of this naive admiration, which Roger did not even endeavor to conceal, not a single scoff was aimed at him, for which he was so grateful that he became humble, and sought every opportunity for self-abasement, but he could hardly open his mouth in depreciation of his own alarming costume and his provincial manners before some one of the young people would gently interrupt him. Arrived at Saint Germain, they ordered dinner, but as an hour at least must pass before the dinner could 154 SYLVANDIKE. Le ready, Monsieur dc Crctto proposed a game of cards. Roger trembled on hearing that proposition. "Ahis!" tliought he, "these people phiy as high as three or four pistoles." Poor Roger! He cast a glance of misgiving at his host, who quickly understood him. "Messieurs," said the marquis, " [jcrhaps tlie Cheva- lier d'Anguilhem does not know our game very well. Let us limit the stakes to twenty luuis to give him time to learn it without ruining himself." At this chivalrous announcement a cold sweat bathed Roger's face. " Half of all I possess," he said to himself. " I am a lost man ! " Then, in a single second he understood all the vani- ties of existence. Anguilhem, La Guerite, La Pintade, the economies of a half century heaped in the paternal strong-box, all could be squandered in an hour at cards, and with people who played a small game besides. It was not calculated, it will be agreed, to increase his sense of importance. Monsieur de Crette divined that Roger was burning with a desire to speak with him in private. He there- fore rose when they began to prepare the table for a game, and sauntered indifferently into the next room. Roger followed him. " My faith, marquis," said Roger with the frankness that had won the liking of his comrades from the beginning, " I do not wish to sail under false colors among honest men. My father is not rich. He has given me a little money for my journey, and I am afraid — " "Of losing?" THE chevalier's ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 155 "iSTo, but of losing too much." " Nonsense! get rid of that notion, then. One of the qualifications of a gentleman is to be a good player." " Yes; but to be a good player a man ought not to lose more than he possesses." "Why not?" "What, of money?" " Money ? A man always has money, if not in his own pockets, at least in his friends'." " Excuse me, marquis, but I do not like to borrow." " You are a child, chevalier. Nobody borrows; every- body plays en Vair; that is the way we do. How much do you think we have among us all? A hundred louis, perhaps; but at the bottom of the purse is the word, chevalier, and a gentleman's word is as good as a gold mine. And besides, when a man is playing among honorable men like us, the good luck balances the bad. We play all the year around among ourselves. We win and we lose prodigious sums, and on the thirty-first day of December the unluckiest of us is not more than a hundred pistoles behind. Play, then, fearlessly, lose cheerfully, or I forewarn you that I shall look black." " I shall do everything in my power to keep in your good graces, marquis," returned Roger, smiling. " Then come back without farther delay. I hear the gold jingling." The marquis and Eoger re-entered the room ; the table was prepared ; the game was ready. D' Anguilhem lost his twenty louis in three rounds. During that one half hour all that terror holds of poignant anguish gripped the chevalier's heart. Yet, although his temples twitched a little, his smile did not fade for an instant. The marquis challenged him to stake anew. 156 SYLVANDIRE. Tho chevalier drew twenty louis more from his pocket. At tlie end of five rounds tho chevalier had won back his twenty louis and forty others. Then he began to play cautiously. " This excellent d'Anguilhem is a veritable monopo- list," remarked the Marquis de Crett^ as he shoved over to the chevalier some fifteen louis which were his due, and which tlie chevalier had just won from him with a pair-royal of knaves. " He comes to Paris to get fifteen hundred thousand livres, and wishes to carry olf our money besides." Koger took the hint, thanked his friend by a frank smile, and began to play as freely as when he was losing. But Roger was in luck. At the end of ten minutes he had three hundred louis stacked in front of him. It must be said that if the chevalier's terror had been profound, his joy was delirious. Dinner was announced. D'Anguilhem inwardly thanked heaven for giving him this chance to achieve what is technically called a Charlemagne. Crette saw the expression of satisfaction tliat passed over his coun- tenance, slight as it was. " Chevalier," said the marquis, " you would like us to think you very elated over your winnings, and that is modesty on your part; but I know you. I will wager that you are going to risk your winnings of three hundred louis against d'Herbigny, who has lost four hundred, I think, on the first twenty-one that comes to hand." As he spoke he gave Roger a significant look. " You are right, marquis; but as a twenty-one, how- ever, does not occur in every coup, I propose to Monsieur d'Herbigny that we play three hundred louis, one against the other, on the first round and without looking at our cards. We take what we "et." THE chevalier's ENTKY INTO SOCIETY. 157 " Agreed ! " exclaimed d'Herbigny. The cards were dealt. No one entered upon the game. The two laid down their cards. Roger had twenty-nine and d'Herbigny thirty. Eoger reddened slightly, but that was all. " Here are your three hundred louis, vicomte," he said with a laugh. " You are a very fine player, Monsieur d' Anguilhem," responded d'Herbigny with a bow. " Accept my compliments, chevalier," said the Comte de Chastellux. " You play like a true gentleman." " And mine," added the Baron de Treville. "And ours," continued the others. Crette took his hand, and as he pressed it he mur- mured in his ear, — " Well done ! A man is known by the way he plays and fights. Keep on as you have begun to-day, and in three months you will be an accomplished cavalier," "Compliments enough," thought Roger as he rose. " I appear to have done something very fine," Rutin going from the gaming-table to the dinner-table he heaved a great sigh that nearly strangled him. The dinner was of the gayest. The Marquis de Crette and his set piqued themselves on their drinking; but they were, in this respect, mere babes beside their pro- vincial convive. Roger complained in all seriousness that the glasses were small and the wine weak. " Zounds ! " exclaimed d'Herbigny ; " you play as well as you ride, and you drink as well as you play. Every- thing seems to be well done at Anguilhem." Roger was amazed at finding himself not only equal but even superior in some things to these marvels of elegance. During the entire dinner the talk was of hunting and 158 SYLVANDIRE. duels and conquests. On the first and last heads the chevalier could relate a sufficient number of feats, al- though his amours were not of the same sort as those of his new friends. But on the second sulyect he could boast neither prowess nor triumph. Never had he been engaged in even the smallest duel. Never had he seen one. It was humiliating, and he figured as a rather sulky listener. The dessert was reached when a second group arrived. Those who comprised it Avere as noisy on their arrival as were the Marquis de Crette and his convives at the end of their dinner. " So we fire to have the Messieurs de Kollinski," said the JMarquis de Crette, with an air of vexation that did not escape Koger. Roger leaned from the window and saw four gentle- men, two of whom, superbly attired in foreign costumes, strutted across the threshold with great boisterousness. They were two Hungarian gentlemen whose array was so sumptuous as to amount to extravagance. Their luxury was insulting even in that epoch of luxury. Instantly a hush fell upon the first comers, as if they feared to encourage the familiarity of these last arrivals. Roger leaned toward the marquis and inquired, — " Who are the Messieurs de Kollinski ? " " Two honorable Hungarian noblemen who live here after the manner of their country," responded the mar- quis, " beating landlords, maltreating lackeys, barring the way of passers-by, — all which would be delightful if duelling were not prohibited and so stringently punished. They are brave for that matter. No fault is to be found with them in that respect." Roger profited by the information. The Messieurs de Kollinski then entered the great THE CIIEVALIEE's ENTRY INTO SOCIETY. 159 hall of the inn, and tlicy all courteously saluted one another. But the first compliments were hardly ex- changed before the Marquis de Crette arose, an example that was imitated by the gentlemen of his party, paid the reckoning, and departed, followed by Roger and his other companions. From the foot of the staircase Roger heard the Mes- sieurs de Kollinski burst into a shout of laughter, and the words " apple-green ribbons " struck his ear several times. Now Roger wore, as we have said, a knot of apple-green ribbons on his shoulder. It was an orna- ment in very bad taste, especially on a sky-blue coat. Roger was not aware of it in the morning, but he had discerned it by evening. He was, therefore, enraged at the laughers, and he began to detest them from the bottom of his heart. Roger felt that in their eyes he was ridiculous. Monsieur de Crette, for his part, had not lost a word of their raillery, for, as he mounted his horse, he ex- claimed, — " 3fon Dieuf but these Messieurs de Kollinski are provokingly insolent! " Roger divined that the jest of the Hungarians had been understood by his comrades. He suffered cruelly, but, having said nothing at the moment, he was con- strained to swallow his wrath. Again in Paris, Roger affectionately thanked the mar- quis for his many kind favors, asked each gentleman present for permission to call on him, and accepted an invitation to make one of a tennis-party on the morrow. " Remove your apple-green knot," the marquis said to him in an undertone as they separated, " and put on one of poppy-color. It is the fashionable shade." IGO SYLVANDIRE. Eoger would liave prciferred a dagger-thrust to tliis delicate attention from his new friend. "Decidedly," thought he, "I was insulted, and I did not demand satisfaction for the insult. Am I, then, a man of no si)irit? " THE YALUE OF FENCING LESSONS. 161 XI. HOW THE CHEVALIER PROFITED BY THE FENCING LESSONS GIVEN HIM BY THE BARON d'aNGUILHEM, HIS FATHER. During the whole night, this idea kept Roger awake. He looked at the matter from a hundred standpoints ; he thought of a thousand arguments in his own favor ; but the sum total remained that he had been jeered at, and he had permitted it. The memory of it spoiled all that day before, so beautiful still to him. This thought, combined with the information given him by Maitre Coquenard concerning the state of the lawsuit, was not calculated to conduce to a good night's rest; and so Koger, after having slept an hour or two, awoke in a very bad humor. However, as he had on the previous day learned the value of a good coat, before taking his chocolate he sent for a tailor and ordered him to have ready, by ten o'clock in the morning, a complete costume made in the best taste that he could command. At ten o'clock the tailor returned to Roger's apartment with a coat of chatoyant taffeta, the cuffs embroidered in silver, a vest of violet gray silk, also embroidered in silver, and knee-breeches like the coat; the rest of the toilet was completed by a neck-scarf of Mechlin lace, embroidered clocked-hose and new buckles; a sword, finer than the one he wore the day before, and having a perfect edge, cocked up in cavalier fashion the left skirt of his coat. 11 162 SYLVANDIRE. He then frankly confided to tlic tailor his misgivings as to the manner of creditably carrying off all those beau- tiful things. The latter, who was an artist, gave him invaluable advice. Roger wished to put it into practice on the instant; he walked away, he turned, he came back before his instructor, who in the end declared him- self perfectly satisfied with the way the chevalier caressed liis chin and thrust his hat under his left arm; these were the chief things. Roger paid the tailor and dis- missed him, already somewhat diverted from the dis- agreeable thoughts that had engaged his mind during all the night. He set out, then, with a light step for the Rue de Vaugirard where the tennis-court was situated. Only a single thing was lacking to the perfect gratifi- cation of his self-esteem, — to be seen, thus dressed, by Constance ; and his regret was the keener as he evidently produced a great sensation upon all whom he encountered, a sensation demonstrated by their turning about and following him with the eye. In fact, no one could un- derstand where this handsome youth with such a self- satisfied air could be going, at ten o'clock in the morning, arrayed as if for a wedding. Roger arrived first at the rendezvous; the markers executed profound obeisances, which seemed to him to augur well. It was the first time Roger had seen a tennis-court ; he had expected to find himself in a Louvre, — he was in a barn, or little better. So powerful already was caprice in the capital of the civilized world that the fact did not prevent this tennis- court being the most popular one in Paris. Roger took advantage of the opportunity which he owed to his great punctuality, to gain from the markers some theoretical instruction concerning the course of the game, and some practical lessons as well. As he was THE VALUE OF FENCING LESSONS. 1G3 possessed of a quick intelligence, he then and there mas- tered the order of the play and as he had an accurate eye and a strong wrist, he drove a straight enough ball for a beginner. In the meantime, Roger's new friends arrived. The chevalier's stupefaction was great; they were in morning breeches and dressing-gowns. Alas ! to become a Parisian, the poor chevalier still had much to learn. The Marquis de Crette observed his surprise. " We live in the quarter," said he, " hence we come in like neighbors." " I," said Eoger, " have some visits to make on leaving you, and I dressed beforehand." " You would have done better to have come in neglige, " returned the marquis ; " you will find that you must go to your hotel from here; this costume will hinder you greatly." " I did not expect to play, " said Roger, biting his lips. " I do not know the game, and — " "Oh," returned the marquis, "we will knock about the balls a little to put us in breath and give you an ink- ling of the thing, then we will play a regular game." At that moment, a noise of ill-omen echoed in the antechamber. Several voices were heard, and among them Roger thought he recognized the voice that had ridiculed the apple-green ribbons on the previous after- noon: he felt a presentiment. In fact, almost immediately, the Messieurs de Kollin- ski entered with their two companions of the day before; a cold perspiration gathered upon Roger's forehead. " Let us make haste and take our places, " said the marquis, " or we shall have a disfjute with these bullies about who shall play the game." The marquis removed his dressing-gown, his friends 164 SYLVANDIKE. did the same; Roger, for his part, despoiled himself of coat, vest, and sword. The game began. Koger commenced by perpetrating a few of the blunders inseparable from apprenticeship in a game so difficult, and not witliout shouts of laughter from the spectators. But his play improved, little by little. As a rule, all branches of physical culture are related. Apt in matters requiring skill and address, Roger made visible progress. On the other hand, the strength of his wrist aroused the admiration of his new friends; his balls Avhistled like cannon-shot, and a man certainly needed courage to be a third against him. The young gentlemen were greatly amused to see the display of most unlooked-for expedients on the part of that powerful creature. Sometimes, in order to take a ball far above his head, Roger took such a leap into the air that one would have said a spring-board was under his feet; sometimes, to make a hit, he would shoot forward or dart backward with a strength of limb and a calcu- lation of distance that were amazing in a beginner; nor did his friends withhold their eulogies. Roger was exultant. The onlookers seemed less entertained. The Messieurs de Kollinski had come to play, and they discovered tliat the game of the Marquis de Crette lasted rather too long to suit their convenience. For that reason, by way of passing the time, and while his brother sneered with his usual impertinence, Monsieur de Kollinski the elder placed himself where he could throw the balls into the pockets (blouses). As the transaction took place on the Marquis de Crette's side, it was to him that it seemed particularly disagreeable. Meanwhile, the Marquis de Crette became more and THE VALUE OF FENCING LESSOXS. 165 more annoyed, and paid so much less attention to his play that with his increased annoyance he began to lose. The ^larquis de Crette was a good-natured player when he lost by his own fault or by that of people whom he liked; but he was quick-tempered when he lost through others, if the others were people whom he disliked. And so, another ball being pocketed by Monsieur de Kollinski, the Marquis de Crette lost his temper. " Parbleu! monsieur," turning toward the meddler, " you pocket my balls and cause me to lose. That probably amuses you, but for my part, I fail to find it amusing." "Very well, marquis: then I will pocket monsieur's," said the Hungarian as he passed to Koger's side. Roger cast a questioning glance at the marquis, to which the marquis responded by a significant look, " You may, if monsieur permits it, " said the Marquis de Crette. " Ah ! but I shall not permit it, " said Roger, with an indescribable beating of the heart, as he took a few steps toward Monsieur de Kollinski. " Look ! " exclaimed the Hungarian, " here is the man of the apple-green knot. Why are you not wearing your apple-green ribbon, friend 1 " Roger felt the blood mount to his temples, and yet he stood as if nailed to the spot. He tried to reply to Monsieur de Kollinski, but his tongue was paralyzed. " It is true that monsieur has no longer his apple-green knot, " spoke up the Marquis de Crette, " but he has a new sword." The words Avere as the spark that touches off the keg of powder. 166 SYLVANDIKE. Roger approached close to Monsieur tie Kollinski, and bowing gravely, he added, — " Yes, monsieur, a new sword with which I shall have the honor to run you through tlie body, if that will be agreeable to you." All present burst into a loud laugh on hearing Roger's unique challenge. Monsieur de Kollinski was about to reply in his usual noisy manner, but the Yiconite d'Her- bigny had also approached him ; placing a finger on his lips, he said, — "Not in public, messieurs, T beg; we shall meet again." The Hungarians saluted, turned, and went to the foot of the hall, Avhere they began to laugh maliciously together. "Why, what is the matter, chevalier? " said the mar- quis in a low tone to Roger, who, after the rush of blood to his face, had turned very pale ; " one would say that you were ill ! " "No, monsieur; but I am somewhat disturbed." " Is your disturbance of such a nature as to keep you from fighting if we need a fourth 1 " " Keep me from fighting, — me ? " returned Roger, bearing in mind his father's instructions. " I will fight ten times, if necessary, and against ten men, if you think proper; but there is something going on inside of me that is stronger than I am, and I tremble. It is rage, I think." The marquis smiled at the simplicity with which Roger described his sensations. " Do you fence ? " he asked. " Oh yes, a little." " Who is your master ? " " My father taught me." THE VALUE OF FENCING LESSONS. 167 " Dlahle ! then you are not likely to accomplish any great things." " I think I can defend myself. " " If only you could draw a sword as well as you ride ! " " Why, I hope I am as skilful at least at the one exercise as at the other." " Fact 1 " " Yes; but I have fenced only with foils." " And you do not know how you Avill fight when once on the ground ? " " I know that I will fight, that is all, and without drawing back a step, I promise you." " Ah ! if you promise that, " answered the marquis, " I am tranquil." " I promise." "Very well!" The marquis donned his dressing-gown, adjusted his neck-scarf, and went to find the two brothers who were sitting on the markers' bench with their two friends, and who arose at his approach. The gentlemen exchanged the usual civilities. The Messieurs de Kollinski had grown perfectly polite. It was quite simple ; they were going to fight. They fixed upon a rendezvous for four o'clock, and agreed to meet at the rear of the convent of the Filles- du-Saint-Sacrement. Our four young men returned to the hotel of the Marquis de Crette. " Faith, messieurs, this is a serious affair, " said the marquis throwing himself on a sofa, and by a sign inviting his companions to do likewise. " Why do you say that ? " demanded d'Herbigny. " Well ! my dear vicomte, the Messiei;rs de Kollinski are absolutely determined to fight four against four." 168 SYLVANDIRE. " Well, are there not four of us? " said Trdvillc. " Undoubtedly, baron ; but for the second day that ■we have been togotlier, I should be glad to keep the chevalier out of tliis business." " And why me, more than another ? " demanded Roger. "Because, chevalier, a first affair — is a first affair." " Ah ga ! perhaps you Parisians, then, have discovered the way to begin with a second, " returned Roger. " No, not yet, it is true, " said Crett^ with a laugh. "In that case, make use of me, I beg, monsieur," replied the chevalier; "if it is a matter of getting a sword-thrust, why, the deuce! I am as good as another." "Very good!" exclaimed d'Herbigny. "That is the sort of talk I like." " I will answer for the chevalier, " declared Treville. " Chevalier, if we get out of this, " said Crette, " you shall be my friend. But do not deceive yourself. The Messieurs de Kollinski are accomplished duellists; they have fought with rapiers in their country from the time of Charles IX." " Well, what of that, marquis ? However terrible they may be, we will try to make up their party," " So be it, then ; but you are forewarned. There is still time for you to withdraw honorably, chevalier; and in your stead we can resort to Clos-Renaud who has a pretty stroke." "I shall be greatly chagrined, marquis, if you repeat what you have just said. I am at your service and that of our Hungarians. " " Well, messieurs, at four o'clock, this evening, " said Crette. " Let us make our wills, for in all probability we shall have a warm time of it. Come with me, Roger, and I will give you a good sword; what you have there is only a hilt," THE VALUE OF FENCING LESSONS. 169 The marquis took leave of his companions, and he con- ducted Roger to a species of armory where tliere were swords of every magnitude, with hilts adapted to differ- ent hands. Eoger chose like an expert : he took a handsome blade, neither too long nor too sliort, not too heavy nor too light, a three-edged carlet as sharp as a needle, which, widened a little fourteen or fifteen inches from the hilt in such a way as to give strength in parrying. The marquis keenly observed the chevalier while he was making his choice. " Come, come, " he said ; " I see that you have good enough judgment. Toss your sword into a corner, — it is good for nothing, — and put this one in its place. Excellent ! This evening, behind the convent of the Filles-du-Saint-Sacrement, you understand?" " Perfectly." " Wait for me ; I will call for you as I pass. Or, rather, on second thoughts, be here at two; we will have a bite together." " You overwhelm me, marquis." " There, there, don't use that word again; it is not current among friends, and it smells of Loches six leagues away." Once returned to his hotel and shut within his room, Roger gave way to very lugubrious reflections. That remark about their wills, dropped by way of advice by the Marquis de Crette, kept running through his head. " Parbleu ! " he exclaimed, " it would be an odd thing if I have come from Loches to Paris just to get myself killed." With that, the chevalier rested his elbow on the table, leaned his head on his hand, and began to think of Con- 170 SYLVANDIKE. stance, of liis mother, of the baron, (jf the delights of his native province, so real, and yet appreciated only when distant, whose reality was felt only when wanting ; then he wrote a few pages to Constance, and to his father and mother, weeping quite openly as he went on writing. He wept so much that he could at last weep no more ; and besides, there was a magnificent sky, the sun shot across the window-bars a long stream of light, in which played millions of motes. Death does not look so ugly in fine weather ; it has been remarked that many more people have been brave in August than in December. Koger, therefore, tossed his head, took up the marquis' sword and unsheathed it ; it weighed, in his robust hand, scarcely more than a foil. He drew at the wall, and went through a few exceedingly swift and vigorous passes in quarte and tierce; in short, he was in the end well pleased with himself, being convinced that he had lost none of his skill, although he had not touched a foil for nearly eighteen months. By two o'clock he returned to the hotel of the marquis. Crette was awaiting him in the armory with d'Herbigny and Treville. A table was spread ; on the table were some cutlets, a pate, and two bottles only of old wine. At the sight the chevalier declared that, having had only his chocolate at nine o'clock in the morning, he was literally perishing of hunger. The three others chimed in chorus. The repast was as gay as if they were to set out for the opera on leaving the table. Yet from time to time the chevalier felt a nervous spasm seize his heart ; but the sensation was merely transient, nor was it strong enough to banish the smile from his lips. They sat an hour at the table ; but they drank not a THE VALUE OF FENCING LESSONS. 171 glassful more than the two bottles. The four friends embraced at the dessert. " Listen, chevalier," said d'Herbigny, Avho passed for the best swordsman among the young gentlemen compos- ing the ]N[arquis de Crette's set. " It was easy to see yes- terday wlien you rode Marlborough, and to-day when you were playing tennis, that your legs are of iron and your arms of steel ; do you flail that blackamoor of a Kollinski, for I am pretty certain that he will wish to deal with you, — and it is quite natural, since you so gallantly offered to run him through with your sword. He em- ploys feints. Break his wrist for him, disable him, then you Avill liave the advantage." " In my second duel," responded the chevalier, " I will do that, perhaps, for, as my father has always told me, breaking a wrist is not running away; but in my first, pardieu ! I will not recede a step, and, to make sure, I warn you that if there is a wall, I will set my back to it." " That 's right ! then he can pin you like a butterfly to the wainscot. Xo boasting, my dear fellow ; remember that when he has finished with you, he will fall on ovir backs." " I will try to give him enough to attend to without meddling in your little affairs," replied Roger. " Amen ! " was d'Herbigny's response. " Amen ! " repeated Crette and Tr^ville. All three put on their swords ; the chevalier had not taken off his; then they entered a carriage. Arrived at the corner of the convent of the Filles-du- Saint-Sacrement, Crette pulled the strap; the coachman drew up ; a little jockey sitting beside him descended and opened the door. " You are to wait here, Basque, " said the marquis, 172 SYLVANDIRE. " to see if any one comes, as we sliall probably liave much more need of a carriage returning tban coming." The four young men sprang to the ground, " Well, how do you feel, Roger 1 " asked the marquis. " I ? I feel marvellously well, and to do credit to the company I am in, I would fight with the devil in person." A second carriage arrived. Our young people's four adversaries descended. They were the Messieurs de Kollinski, the Comte de Gorkaiin, a Saxon, and Monsieur de Bardane, an officer of the light-horse. They advanced toward the Marquis de Crette and saluted. It befell with regard to Roger as Monsieur d'Herbigny had anticipated. The elder Kollinski was bent upon fighting him, and as Roger on his part wished to fight Kollinski, the discussion was not long. The rest of the match was arranged as follows: the Marquis de Crette engaged Kollinski the younger, d'Herbigny was content with Monsieur de Bardane, and Treville with the Saxon, They put themselves on guard, and as they were liable to interruption at any moment, they immediately crossed weapons. The Marquis de Crette received a sword-thrust in the wrist, d'Herbigny slew outright Monsieur de Bardane, and Treville was killed by the Comte de Gorkaiin. As for Roger, he was, without suspecting it, a first- class swordsman ; as he had promised, he did not yield a step. On the other hand, he lunged at his adversary three times: the first time, with a straight thrust, and he pierced his cheek; the second, with a parry and thrust, and he made a hole in his neck ; the third, with a feint, and he ran him through the breast. Monsieur de Kollinski, the elder, fell. THE VALUE OF FENCING LESSONS. 173 " Peste ! " cried Crette, wlio was sitting on the grass, "what a battering- ram tliat fellow is! he would break down a wall." Seeing his brother fall, the younger Kollinski sprang at Eoger, but his way was barred by d'Herbigny. "One moment, monsieur," said d'Herbigny to the Hungarian. " If you are willing, I shall have the honor of serving you in the same fashion tliat my friend Roger has served monsieur, your brother." And with that, he put aside Roger, who was rushing forward, maintaining that as he had begun with the family he wished to stay by it; but there was no time to continue the discussion. The Saxon was upon him. " Bardon, my tear monsieur, " he was saying, " but I tink not we should stand mit folded arms." " Unfold your arms, then, " retorted Roger, resuming his guard. "Be quick, be quick, messieurs!" cried Crette; " Basque is signalling that some one is coming." " Attend, attend, " said Roger ; " parry that ! " He lunged, and ran his sword through Comte de Gorkailn's shoulder. " Monsieur, " said the latter, gravely, " if efer you should gome to Dresden, I shall pe enchanted to enter- tain you." " Monsieur, " returned Roger, alive to the compliment, " you may count upon having my first visit." The two adversaries saluted. During this time the younger Kollinski and d'Her- bigny were interchanging thrusts; d'Herbigny ran Kol- linski through the hip, and Kollinski scratched his adversary's thigh. At the summons of the Marquis de Crette, the car- 174 SYLVAN DIRE. riage came up at a gnllop. Basque and Monsieur de Kollinski's coacliman grouped Monsieur de Burdane and the Vicomte de Trdville together in such a manner that they might be supposed to liave slain each other; the elder Kollinski, who was still alive, was home to his carriage; his brother and the Saxon took their places beside him, and the carriage set off with the horses at a run. For their part, Crette, d'Herbigny, and Roger sprang lightly into their own coach, and the horses boro them away at full speed. " My dear chevalier, " said the marquis, " I ask for your friendship, and in all sincerity offer you mine." " And I, too," added d'Herbigny. " You overwhelm me, " was Roger's response. " Roger, Roger," protested the marquis, " you know very well that you have agreed not to use that word to me again. Saeredieu! how my wrist pains me! " "And poor Treville, " said d'Herbigny; "to think that I owed him two hundred pistoles ! " " "What would you have, my dear fellow ? " said the marquis ; " that account is settled. " And all three re-entered the hotel of the INIarquis de Crette, whence d'Herbigny and Roger did not emerge until after nightfall. THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 175 xir. HOW THE CHEVALIER d'aNGUILHEM BECOMES AC- QUAINTED WITH THE SON OF THE EAST INDIAN, AND THE KIND OF PERSON HE FINDS HIM TO BE. All these adventures had passed with the swiftness of a dream. Roger had had time to live, it is true; but he had scarcely had leisure to perceive that he was living. He discussed this phenomenal activity with the Marquis de Crette. " My dear fellow," said the marquis, " that is the way we live in Paris. However, we shall lose our evening to-night, or I shall, at least, as my wrist will prevent my going out. But as for you, your two wrists are very sound. You can worthily employ your time from now to midnight." " Xo, thank you," said Roger; " I shall not be sorry to return to my hotel. However, at the rate at which I am going, and with the example that I have before my eyes, I hope that in a week I shall be an accomplished cavalier. " " Pardieu ! I can well believe that. You are not recognizable after these two days. Yet there is really one thing more urgent than the dinners at Saint Ger- main, the games of tennis at the Rue de Vaugirard, and the promenades back of the convent of the Filles-du- Saint-Sacrement. That is your lawsuit, and I advise you to attend to it. " 176 SYLVANDIRE. "Such is my intention, indeed," replied d'Anguil- hem ; " and to-morrow I shall 8et about it. " "You understand, my dear fellow, that for all your business I place either coach or horse at your disposal. Only let me know every morning your hour and your ■wishes, and one or the other, as you choose, shall be at your door. " "And do you think I shall win my suit?" asked Eogcr. " Ah! bless me, my dear fellow, you are asking more than I know. Were you to ask if I thought you could break Bucephalus, I should answer yes; whether I thought 3'ou could spit Berthelot and Boisrobert, our best fencing-masters, I should say it is quite possible; but, 2:)este ! my dear friend, a judge is not to be won over as a horse is broken or a man is killed. There are attorneys, tipstaves, counsellors, chief justices, adminis- trators, creditors, a world of big-wigs, a hell of dirty rascals. You must first try to get the names of all these fellows. Then you will tell me, and then we will con- trive to beguile some of them with fine words, and to bribe others with money." "As for the fine words that is all very well," re- turned Roger; " and I am in funds so far as they are concerned. I studied rhetoric with the Abbe Dubuquoi, who is an intellectual fellow, and philosophy with the Jesuits of Amboise; but as for money, that is another thing. My father gave me fifty louis for six months' expenses, and in two days I have already made away with twenty pistoles." " Well, my dear fellow, I have told you that among gentlemen there need be no anxiety about such matters. Help yourself from my purse. I have an income of sixty thousand livres, and if it were not for my steward THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 177 I should scarcely get rid of it. Take it, my dear fel- low, take it. You shall pay it all back when you are a millionaire." " And if I lose my suit ? " demurred Roger. " Well, what of that, chevalier 1 You would not need to hang yourself! We Avill take what is left of your money and sit down to a card-table. One cannot always lose. Fortune will owe you revenge, and she will give it to you." "All that is rather precarious, my dear marquis, and I confess that the future does not look very rosy." "Ah, yes! You have great reason to complain, it seems to me. What should Bardane and Treville say if you are not satisfied 1 By the way, my dear Roger, if you are questioned on the subject, don't fail to say that they quarrelled at tennis, and that they ran each other through. If some busybody asks how you know, say that I told you." " Very well," said Roger; and he prepared to leave. " And one word more. Send to KoUinski's to-morrow morning to learn whether he is dead or alive. You certainly owe him that. If he is dead, rest his soul! all is over. If not, send every day until he either passes away or is cured. Did you not give the Saxon a little scratch, tool " " I believe I ran him through the shoulder." "Ah! you believe! Well, kill two birds with one stone, and send to both places at the same time." " But their addresses ? " " Petitpas will take them to you in the morning." "Who is Petitpas?" " A messenger of mine." "Well, a good-night to you, marquis." " Thanks for the wish, but I am skeptical. My wrist 12 178 SYLVANDIRE. I)ains mo as if possessed. That beast of a Kollinski might liave given me a tlirust somewhere else! What brutes tliose Hungarians are! Well, good-night, my friend, you know what to expect from to-day, — for life, for death between us." On his way to his hotel Roger reflected that, even if he had not killed, he had severely injured that day , a man ; and he was astonished, in spite of the Ijehests of God and the church, which command us to love our neighbor as ourselves, — he was astonished, I say, that he expe- rienced no great amount of remorse. More than that, when he saw Monsieur de Kollinski fall, far from any regret whatever, he had felt a sensation of the keenest joy, so true is it that the instinct of self- preservation overrides every other sentiment. However, one fact came to Roger's relief in the midst of the low opinion that he was forming of himself, — the fact that between his two friends scarcely had men- tion been made of poor Treville who had been slain, save that, as we have said, after his death, d'Herbigny had recalled his indebtedness to him of a hundred louis, a circumstance that, perhaps, might not have been so faithfully recalled to mind had Treville lived. And yet Crette and d'Herbigny had been intimately acquainted with Treville for ten or twelve years. But, on the other hand, Treville undoubtedly had a father, a mother, a sweetheart, whom his death would plunge into deep mourning. Roger shuddered when he thought that he, too, had all these, and that it had been quite possible that, at the very time when he was mak- ing these reflections, he himself, Roger, might have been lying in Treville's place. The thought made the chevalier double his speed, for THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 179 he was in great haste to write to Anguilhem and pour out to those he loved all the sentiments of which his heart was full. Roger wrote indeed to his father and to his mother. He was so happy that his joy broke over him in floods. It is such a delight to live when one has but just escaped death, and when to the happiness of preservation is added the pride of triumph! Then, still another thing helped to reassure Roger. He would never hereafter feel that beating of the heart which is the uncertainty of the brave. He knew his own skill, and others knew it. He entreated his mother not to forget that, after the love he bore her and his father, the one and only senti- ment of his heart was for Mademoiselle de Beuzerie. He begged that she would let it be known in the country that, being admitted to the intimacy of the Marquis de Crette, he was starting out in Paris in good shape. Then he described in detail his costumes, slipped in a few words about his rising reputation, and asked if the other fifty louis could not be forwarded soon. At the last came a postscript of a page and a half in length for Constance. In his letter to the baron , — for the chevalier would have regarded it as sacrilege to confound his heart affairs with business matters, — in his letter to the baron Roger explained at length the apprehensions of Maitre Coque- nard. He outlined the critical position in which the case involved the little fortune of Anguilhem, and, as at bottom the conceited youth, convinced that nothing could now withstand him, did not doubt of winning his suit, he took pleasure in exaggerating the difficulties that he might seem the more gloriously victorious. The postscript of this second letter was consecrated to^ 180 SYLVANDIRE. Christopher, who was living at oaso and on tho fat of the land in tho stables of The Golden Harrow. Yet tho business which had brought Koger to Paris was in progress. Monsieur de Bouzenois had died of an apoplectic attack without signifying by word or writing his intentions, for the worthy gentleman had believed himself still to have ten or twelve good years of life ahead. His hotel, in the Place Louis-le-Grand, was suddenly deserted. The son of the East Indian, — thus the woman was always spoken of whom the Vicomte de Bouzonois had brought from beyond the sea, — tlio son of the East Indian, I say, had come forward to take pos- session, but as he had neither title nor established rights, the seals had been put on the house, and the property sequestered. Roger had promised himself to visit the hotel at the very first opportunity. He therefore took advantage of the occasion when he was leaving his card at Monsieur de Kollinski's, who lived in the Hue des Capucines, and Monsieur le Comte de Gorkaiin's, who resided in the neighborhood of La Ferme-des-Mathurins, to pause, in passing, in front of his future property. He recognized it by the uninhabited appearance of its sealed doors and windows. It was a grand and liand- some h6tel which might of itself have been worth three hundred thousand livres, an enormous sum in those days. Roger remarked a stone escutcheon upon which was graven the dead man's coat of arms, and upon which he promised himself that his own should be graven as soon as the probable winning of his suit would permit his vanity that little gratification. To be brief, he came and went before the h6tel in order to view it under every aspect, when he noticed a gentleman who, having arrived ^t almost the same time as he, was performing the same THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 181 manoeuvres with an air as preoccupied as his own. For that reason he observed the gentleman the more attentively. He Avas a man to whom it was almost impossible to assign a definite age, although it was evident that it must lie between twenty-five and forty years. An orange-yellow hue overspread his face and even en- croached upon the whites of his eyes. He had small white teeth, jet-black hair, a coat whose seams were covered with lace, and whose color was most striking, two watch-chains, and rings on every finger. At the other side of the street there waited for him a great gilded coach, on the box of Avhich sat a coachman still yellower than he. To the door clung a valet in the costume of a Lascar who was yellower still than the coachman. At the same time that Roger appeared to remark this strange-looking personage, the latter also seemed to observe Roger. Both repeatedly and successively con- veyed their glances from the hdtel to the other and from the other to the hdtel. Then the great door of the h6tel aforesaid being half-opened to give passage to a sort of steward habited in black, the two observers hastened to the doorway at the same moment and thrust their heads into the opening, and that, too, with such precipita- tion that their heads met in collision. Roger, who was very well-bred, offered apologies to the unknown. As for the unknown, he gave utterance to a sort of low growl which might have been inter- preted to mean, — " The deuce! that rascal is no soft-pate." Thereupon both together exclaimed, — " My faith, this is a fine h6tel! " " Is it not so, monsieur? " 182 SYLVANDIRE. " That is my opinion," was the stranger's response. " And when the grass that is beginning to dot the court has been weeded out — " " And when a coat of paint has been given to the shutters and doors — " " And when all is enlivened in the daytime by hand- some carriages and horses — " " Illumined at night by a thousand liglits — " " Faith! I shall have one of the most magnificent hdtels in Paris," declared Roger. "Your pardon, monsieur," said the stranger; "you mean to say that I sliall have one of the most magnifi- cent hdtels in Paris." " Not at all. I did not say you; I said /." " But who, pray, are you? " " I am the cousin of Monsieur de Bouzenois." " And I, monsieur, am his stepson." " What! you are the Indian? " " And you are the provincial 1 " " Monsieur," said Roger, " the word is not polite. I am from the province, it is true, but I am not provin- cial for all that. I am the friend of Monsieur le Mar- quis de Crette, of Monsieur le Vicomte d'Herbigny, of Monsieur le Chevalier de Clos-Renaud, and yesterday I gave three sword-thrusts to a Hungarian who was a head taller than you." " Well, monsieur, what do you mean by that? " " I mean, monsieur," replied Roger, " that as I have had the honor of meeting you, I shall do myself the honor of making you a proposition. " " Of compromise ? " " Yes, monsieur, of compromise." " Of what nature ? Proceed. " " It is this. Come around with me to the rear of the THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 183 convent of the Filles-du-Saint-Sacrcmeut, and as man's judgment is always fallible, let us, like the chevaliers of old, confide the decision of our suit to the judgment of God." " Why, you are proposing a duel! " cried the Indian, turning from orange-yellow to pale yellow. "If you kill me," continued Roger, "the h6tel is yours beyond dispute. If I kill you that is the end of the lawsuit." " Excuse me, monsieur," replied the Indian, regaining his coach; "I am sure of winning my suit, but I am not sure of giving you a sword-thrust. We will abide then, if you are willing, by the judgment of man." And the Indian entered his coach and set off at full speed, after closing it even to the sashes of the doors. " Pavdieu ! " exclaimed Roger, "there goes an original! " And he proceeded to inscribe his name at Monsieur de KoUinski's, who was still alive, and at the Comte de Gorkalin's, who was as comfortable as circumstances permitted. After which he returned to report to the Marquis de Crette, to whom he also related his conversation with the Indian. The marquis suffered constant pain from his wrist, which, however, had not prevented his paying two or three morning calls in order to mislead people who might have heard that he had fought and had been wounded. The precaution was not unnecessary, for the duel of the preceding day had made a great stir, but as it had been impossible to lay hands upon any one, and as the two dead men had maintained the profoundest silence, no one was compromised. Nothing, therefore, prevented the marquis from tak- 184 SYLVANDIRE. ing up tho chevalier's case, and making his visits along with him. There were three chief judges and the conseiller- rajyporteur. Tho chevalier and the marquis began by visiting the judges. They were three eccentrics, having each a de- cided liking for different animals. One adored his cat, another his ape, the third his parrot. Tlie chevalier was very friendly with the three judges, and the mar- quis was very attentive to the three animals; but as soon as either of them wished to broach the subject of the suit, the judges gave the gentlemen to understand that they would much prefer to speak of other matters. As to the conseiller-rapporteur, he was a Puritan, and so austere that he refused even to receive them. " Peste / " exclaimed the marquis; "it looks to me like a bad omen." However, they learned one fine morning that the case was evoked at the Palais. Two months had rolled by, for it had required at least two months to draAV up the official report, to complete the inventories, and to inves- tigate the relative titles of the claimants. During all this time Roger had debated whether it were not best to effect a compromise with the son of the East Indian. But the marquis was opposed to all overtures of such a nature, while the Indian everywhere announced that his case was not at all doubtful, and that he could furnish the court a document so authentic that the Messieurs d'Anguilhem, father and son, would, to their confusion, find their pretensions overruled. Meanwhile the business dragged on at its usual pace. Justice is not only blind, but halt and lame as well. The chevalier felt a keen distaste for all these excur- sions to the Palais and the Saint-Chapelle. However, THE CIIEVALIEK MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 185 every eighth day found his coach, or rather, the Mar- quis de Crette's coach, in the neighborhood, — the day, usually, after the baron's weekly letter. Had not Eoger been in some sort the guest of the Marquis de Crette, had he not found in him friend, banker, and adviser all in one, he might of necessity have resolved to proffer a compromise to the son of the Indienne, who was waging the war with plenty of money. But that unfortunate " authentic " document espe- cially tormented Roger. As for the Baron d'Anguil- hem, to whom every new letter from his son brought a new subject for anxiety, he no longer slept. "Try," he always wrote, "to discover what that vaunted document is, whether it is an entail, a will, or a deed of gift." Roger sought and found not. He assembled his council, composed of the Marquis de Crette, d'Herbigny, Clos-Renaud, and Chastellux, to learn what he should do. He had been told of one Sieur Viellere, who engaged in all sorts of clandestine transactions, such as gaining information from secret papers, gauging the contents of hermetically sealed boxes, or the abstraction even of deeds and titles. It is clearly to be understood that it was not now proposed to steal the document from the other party, but to pro- cure a copy in order to aid the advocates in defeating it. The council of gentlemen unanimously repelled this proposition as dishonorable. One day d'Herbigny thought that he had discovered a means of assisting matters. As he was passing the Porte de la Conference he recognized, from the descrip- tion that Roger had given of him, the Indian, who was coming through the gate in his coach with a woman who 186 SYLVANDIRE. had onco been the viscount's mistress, and who was, it would appear, on the best of terms with Roger's adver- sary. Like a devoted friend, d'Herbigny believed that here was a chance to terminate the lawsuit in which languished the fortunes and the peace of Anguilhem. Thereupon he made a sign to the coachman to stop, very impudently approached the door, staring meanwliilo at the lady who belonged to the Comedie-Franqaise and was called Mademoiselle Poussette. Mademoiselle Poussette, recognizing the viscount of whom she had once been very fond, smiled affectionately. " Pardieu ! monsieur and madame," said d'Herbigny, " what say you to a little supper for us three ? It seems to me that we should enjoy it — " "I do not know you," sharply replied the Indian, whose eyes turned perfectly yellow, " and I do not eat with strangers." " But madame knows me, and she will tell you that I belong to good society. Poussette, my dear," continued d'Herbigny, " I beg that you will do me the favor of presenting me to monsieur. " " Let me introduce Monsieur le Vicomte d'Herbigny," said Poussette, laughing at her old lover's impertinence. "Ah! very good — d'Herbigny — d'Herbigny," re- peated the Indian. " I remember that name. You are a friend of that little d'Anguilhem, and you have come to pick a quarrel with me in order to secure his succession to Monsieur de Bouzenois' estate. Try that elsewhere, my fine gentleman. My lawyer has warned me against such accidents ! " " I have the honor to be one of the friends of Mon- sieur d'Anguilhem, who, by the way, is a head taller than you or I. But you have put upon me a mortal affront by attributing to me such an intention. And so, THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 187 monsieur, I regard you as an ill-bred savage, and I beg you to state when and where my seconds may confer with yours. " " Good! you persist in your purpose, only you take another road. You are still bent upon a quarrel. Well, let me win my case, and then we shall see about it." This conclusion seemed such a burlesque to d'Her- bigny that he burst out laughing. " Pardieu ! " he exclaimed to the Malabar, " you are a good-natured Indian, and I should be delighted to have supper with you, only for the pleasure of making your further acquaintance. If you are so agreeable when fasting, you must be charming when drunk. " "Another way of inheriting," returned the Indian. " You would poison me. " " Ah ! you are a buffalo ! " exclaimed Mademoiselle Poussette. " I will not remain an instant longer in your coach. Open the door, vicomte. I will have supper with you." D'Herbigny opened the door and Mademoiselle Pous- sette leaped to the pavement. Then, after taking leave of the nabob, the one with a bow, the other with a cour- tesy, they walked away together, arm in arm. And then Mademoiselle Poussette informed him that the other was the most ridiculous man that she had ever seen; that he could talk of nothing but his inheritance, saw on all sides only emissaries of the chevalier, and that he had this very day demanded of the criminal lieu- tenant an escort, which he was on the point of obtaining. This seemed important to d'Herbigny, who, on leav- ing Mademoiselle Poussette's the next morning, hastened to the Marquis de Crett^'s and related the circumstance 188 SYLVANDIRE. to him. The marquis augured from it that the Indian had already expended a great deal of money, -without counting tliat ho was besides undouhtedly supported hy the Naval Department, with which Monsieur de IJouze- nois had been on excellent terms. In his last letter Roger had acquainted his father with tlicse unpleasant details. Day by day the indications became more alarming. Soon a rumor was spread that the son of the East Indian had exhibited to the three judges the document upon which he relied for the support of his pretensions, and that the three judges had assured him of the successful issue of his cause. This news fell like a thunder-bolt on the Anguilhem party. The matter began to be regarded as desperate by the little group of gentlemen. They were already considering how to raise the money necessary to defray the enormous expenses of the exam- ination, and the damages likely to be awarded to Mon- sieur de Bouzenois' stepson, for the Baron d'Anguilhem had appeared as plaintiff in the case. The ex- penses were estimated at six thousand livres. In addi- tion Maitre Coquenard laid claim to an honorarium of four thousand livres. Roger's sojourn, with the ad- vances made by his friends, had cost almost five thousand livres. The case being lost, nothing would remain to the baron of all his little fortune, and the day was approaching when the sad truth was about to be revealed to him. The Marquis de Crette's behavior toward Roger was perfect under the circumstances. He offered him ten thousand crowns payable at his convenience; but Roger replied that neither he nor his father could accept a sum which they knew in advance that they would be unable to repay. He then declared that he would meet the THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 189 blow with his own resources, and that in case of neces- sity he would enlist in one of the regiments setting out for Flanders. D'Herbigny, too, did everything in his power. Thanks to his influence with Mademoiselle Foussette, he prevailed on her to return to the Indian, in order to make sure of the existence of that document, and if the document had no existence, to discover on what re- sources lloger's adversary relied. As for Roger, he sought out his advocates, Maitre Branchu and Maitre Verniquet, and begged them to over- look notliing in their pleadings; but, despite all the vanity natural to practitioners, they shook their heads and deplored having been retained in such a bad cause. Roger was urgent, and they confessed that the three judges to whom they had spoken had left them little ground for hope. They advised Roger to go back and make desperate overtures to the cat, the ape, and the parrot, which were such delights to those respectable jurists. But it was advice given as doctors prescribe health resorts, — that they should not have to reproach themselves with negligence of any sort. Had they known, they said, that the defence was in possession of a title Avhich, it was asserted, could be supported, nothing in the world could have induced them to take charge of his case. Roger, who neither dared nor was able to promise them momitains of gold, hung his head before these alarming previsions, and as he was only his father's man of business, he faithfully transmitted to him all that was unpleasant in the lawyers' reluctant attitude. But it was in his letter to his mother that his despair burst forth. To her he deplored not only the loss of the suit and the consequent loss of his fortune, but that 190 SYLVANDIRE. most cruel loss of all, the loss of Constance. For, amid all his dinners, his duels, his drives, and his visits, to the chevalier's credit lot us say, the image of Constance had not for a moment left his heart. He confided to Crette the advice given him by his counsel to attempt a last assault upon the judges. He stulfed his pockets with cakes for the cat, almonds for the ape, and macaroons for the parrot; but, far from being sensible of these attentions, the cat scratched hira, the ape bit him, and the parrot called him a country lout. " You are a ruined man! " exclaimed the marquis, on leaving the house of the third judge. " You will lose with costs. " That evening the conduct of the jurists and their respective pets was explained to Roger and his com- panions by Mademoiselle Poussette. As the judges were men of probity, they would not have been willing to accept bribes. But the Indian had given a ring worth two thousand pistoles to the cat, had donated ten thou- sand crowns to the ape, and had bestowed a life-annuity of three thousand livres upon the parrot. As to the conseiller-rapporteur., all attentions had been thrown away upon him. His door had been constantly closed against the Indian as well as Eoger, and no one knew of any beast, savage or domestic, to Avhich one could offer jewelled rings, make donations, or present life-annuities. Roger and the marquis tried a last attack upon him, but with no greater success than had attended the first. Such an upright man was Maitre Bouteau, the con- seiUer-rapjjiorteuT ! As may be supposed, all these successive disappoint- ments had, in spite of his light-hearted nature, gradually THE CHEVALIER MEETS THE EAST INDIAN'S SON. 191 led the chevalier into a deep melancholy. The pros- pect of the ruin of his entire family, of the loss of Con- stance, whom he had found again only to he separated from her the second time yet more cruelly than the first, and of enlistment as a simple volunteer in the Royal- Italien, the Picardie, or the Nivernais, all held nothing but despair. The chevalier, too, abandoned himself to hopelessness, and was unwilling to listen to any conso- lation. He refused all the diversions proposed by his friends in their efforts to distract his mind, and spent his time in his room at The Golden Harrow writing to his mother or composing elegies to Constance. For we must add that, as a last misfortune along with the melancholy, a taste for poetry had come upon him. 192 SYLVANDIRE. XIII. HOW, JUST AS THE CHEVALIER HAD FALLEN A PREY TO THE PROFOUNDEST DESPAIR, A STRANGER VISITED HIM TO MAKE A PROPOSITION NOT EXPECTED BY HIM NOR BY THE READER. One morning, while Roger was viewing liimself in a small mirror to see how grief became him, and was at the same time putting the finishing touches to a very bad, but excessively tender, quatrain intended for Mademoi- selle Constance de Beuzerie, just as he had hit upon a rhyme sufficiently exquisite to end the last line, there came three knocks at his chamber-door. "^ Come in, " answered d'Anguilhem. The door slowly opened, and the person who had knocked entered. He was a man whose countenance bore a strong resem- blance to the fox ; he was evidently an habitue of the Palais, a sort of hanger-on, a rat of La Sainte-Chapelle. During the four months that Roger had been frequenting the Salle des Pas-Perdus he had learned to recognize the lowest tool of Themis by his claw-like fingers and hooked beak. The visitor had red hair which was plastered upon the forehead, a great purple wart on each cheek, an eye as changing as the opal, a great void between the teeth of the upper jaw, and a sharp chin, the underside of which hollowed out rather than projected upward from the throat. THE CHEVALIER RECEIVES A STRANGE VISITOR. 193 " Good ! " exclaimed Roger to himself, " here is some new exploit adduced for my benefit; if it should be necessary to pay the expense at once, I shall have to part with my last pistole. No matter, let us put on a bold face." And, with a moderately firm bearing, he awaited the man with the Avarts. The man with the warts bowed profoundly. " Have I the honor to address Monsieur Roger Tan- crede. Chevalier d'Anguilhem, of La Guerite, La Pin- tade, and other estates 1 " Roger reflected that Avere he still lord of all those sei- gneuries, he was on the road to be disembarrassed of them, a reflection which, although he was astonished at the preamble, did not prevent his replying quite steadily, — "Yes, monsieur, I am he." " Is there nobody, " continued the man with the warts, " who might be concealed in the closet that I observe back of your alcove 1 " "Nobody, monsieur," replied Roger; "and permit me to remark that the question seems a strange one." "Yet nothing could be simpler, monsieur; you might have had with you either a mistress or a friend. You are too handsome a fellow and too good a comrade to be wanting either. You might, I say, have had with you a mistress or a friend, and, in order to receive me more at your ease, have employed the closet as a place of concealment. " " I was alone, monsieur, " insisted the chevalier, " and that closet is quite solitary." " Will you permit me to assure myself ? " returned the man with the warts. " Parhleu! monsieur; it appears strange that you do not believe my word." 13 194 SYLVANDIRE. "Oil! I l)(jlieve you, monsieur le chevalier," said the unknown, slowly edging his way toward the closet, " I believe you, for I know you to be a man of honor; how- ever, without your permission or your knowledge, some indiscreet person may have slipped in — " And the visitor partly opened the door and thrust in his little weasel-like head. " Well," said he, " nobody is here." "What the deuce can this queer individual wish with me 1 " the chevalier asked himself. "And the walls," continued the man with the warts, "are they thick?" "My faith! go and examine them, monsieur," cried d'Anguilhem ; " you are really begixuiing to try my patience." " Don't fly into a passion, monsieur, don't fly into a passion. I very humbly ask your pardon for taking all these precautions; but you will presently understand that they are strictly necessary." " Then, proceed, monsieur, proceed ; look into the wardrobes, under my bed, behind the curtains, and, if you wish the keys of the commode and the secretary, ask for them, — make yourself quite at home," The unknown profited by the permission, opening the wardrobes, looking under the bed, searching behind the curtains, and casting a scrutinizing glance at the two pieces of furniture aforesaid, to assure himself that they were not of a shape to conceal a lurking listener; but as both undoubtedly seemed too restricted to be employed for such a purpose, he politely declined by a wave of his hand the keys which Roger had already drawn from his pocket, and which, upon this refusal, he replaced. " Now, monsieur le chevalier, " said the unknown, " now that I am quite sure that we are alone, I have the THE CHEVALIER RECEIVES A STRANGE VISITOR. 195 honor to beg you to listen to me seriously, for I have come to speak to you on a matter of the highest importance." "Good or bad?" " Take your choice, " answered the man with the warts; "it will be Avhat you make it." And he went to the door, turned the key, and shot the two bolts. Roger cast a furtive glance at the fauteuil where lay his sword, beginning to think, like the Indian, that some one might have been despatched to do him an ill turn. The man with the warts intercepted the glance, endeavored to reassure Roger at once by smile and ges- tiire, and advanced a chair to the fauteuil in which Roger was sitting. By an involuntary movement, Roger pushed back his chair. The stranger remarked this second movement, as he had already remarked the first, and indulged in a hideous little smile as if to say, " Yes, yes, I see indeed that you have no great confidence in me; but wait a little." Roger waited. The man with the warts cast a look around him, as if the certainty of being alone with the chevalier could not satisfy him, and bending toward his ear, he said, — " Monsieur, have you any repugnance to marriage ? " " To marriage 1 " echoed Roger, with stupefaction. "To marriage," repeated the stranger, wagging his head with the same hideous smile that seemed habitual to him. " But to what marriage 1 " demanded Roger. " How ! to what marriage 1 why, a real marriage." " I do not understand," said Roger; " but pray go on." " Then, " said the stranger, " I will put the question differently." 196 SYLVANDIRE. "Proceed, monsieur." " Do you wish to win your suit 1 " " Ti'tehlvu! I should say so," cried Roger, "and very mucli indeed." "Well, well," returned the man with tlie warts, smiling his peculiar smile, " we shall come to an. understanding." "Let us hear," said Roger, as he imparted a slight movement to his fauteuil. " Well, monsieur, " continued the unknown, " I am the man that can put you in a way to win that suit of yours. Ah!" In his enthusiasm, Roger was drawing close to the man with the hideous smile, and seemed as if ready to put his arms around his neck. Poor human nature, which thinks it has sympathies and antipathies, and has only interests! " What is to be done ? " demanded Roger. " Oh, mon Dieu ! almost nothing, " replied the stranger. "But Avhat?" " You must marry." Roger scanned this man a second time, hut more nar- rowly than at first, and he began to conceive the idea that he had to do with a lunatic. " I shall be fortunate if he does not grow violent, " thought Roger. Then, as the silence was prolonged, Roger having con- tented himself with the mental observation, and this re- sponse not sufficing the man with the warts, the latter demanded, — " Well ? " " You say, then — " hazarded Roger. " I say. Monsieur d'Anguilhem, that you must marry." " I marry 1 I ? " THE CHEVALIER EECEIVES A STRANGE VISITOR. 197 " You yourself, in person ; another would not answer at all ! " " Come, now, you are jesting! " exclaimed Roger. " Had I the honor to be better known to you, " replied the messenger of Hymen, " you would know, monsieur, that I never jest." " Then, the question becomes serious 1 " " Extremely serious, monsieur. I beg, therefore, that you will consider it from that point of view." " And so I must marry 1 " " Oh, viou Dieu ' yes." " And whom 1 " demanded Roger with an effort. " Ah ! whom 1 " returned the man with the warts, with a repetition of that horrible smile; "ah! whom? There you let slip the great question ! " " Certainly, whom 1 " repeated Roger. " Do you think, indeed, that I will marry with my head in a bag?" " It is just the way that you must marry. Monsieur d'Anguilhem." " Are you quite sure that you are in your right mind ? " demanded Roger. " What ! Am I quite sure ? " "Yes; because, if not, as the joke might be carried on a long time in this vein, I must confess that I am pressed for time. I have an engagement, and I should like at once to terminate the game we are playing." " It is no game ; not the least in the world, monsieur, " replied the stranger with a very serious air. " Or, if it is a game, it is one, at least, in which your entire future is at stake, since yon can win fifteen hundred thousand livres. " " Then, for God's sake, monsieur, " returned Roger, " explain yourself more clearly. " 198 SYLVAN DIRE. " xVre you in love ? " demanded the man with the Avarts, as lie fixed upon Koger his little opaline eyes, whose regard seemed to the latter literally to penetrate the depths of his soul. " As for that, " said Koger, blushing deeply, " you must excuse me, monsieur, from replying." " Since you demand that I respect your secret, mon- sieur, " retorted the unknown, " I have the same right to demand that you respect mine." " But you, — it is very different." " In what way 1 " " You should tell me, me especially — " " On the contrary, monsieur le chevalier, you are the last person whom I should tell. However, I do not forbid your guessing." "Ah! that is vevy kind; thanks for the permission, monsieur; unfortunately, I am not good at enigmas." " In that case, it is a study that you should enter upon, since, for my part, I can only repeat what I have already said." " jNIonsieur, " said Roger, rising, " you understand — " " Yes, monsieur, I understand that you are a disin- terested person, " interrupted the stranger, rising also, " and it matters little to j'ou whether you lose or win your suit. A bagatelle, after all, for a gentleman like you, — only a sum of fifteen hundred thousand livres, more or less." " Feste / " exclaimed Eoger, " a bagatelle ! not at all, monsieur. I do not regard it in that light; but, frankly, just consider : certainly I cannot marry thus, — it is absurd ! " " Monsieur, monsieur, " said the stranger with an air of profound commiseration for Roger's ignorance, " I tell you that you do not know what you are refusing. " THE CHEVALIER RECEIVES A STRANGE VISITOR. 199 " But, in short, monsieur, if I should consent to con- sider the proposition, what is to be done ? " " A proposition of this sort, monsieur, once considered, must be carried out." " Then it is a positive contract that you require 1 " " Positive. " " And I agree to marry — " " The name is blank." " This is not common sense." " Yet permit — " " Xever, monsieur, never ! " " That is your last word 1 " "The last, —it is final." " Keflect again." " I have reflected, or rather, I will not reflect on such an absurdity. I to marry 1 I, without knowing whom, without having seen my intended, without having spoken to her, without knowing whetlier she is young or old, beautiful or ugly, stupid or intellectual! Come, come, my dear man, you are losing your head ! " " And you, your suit, monsieur ! " And the stranger took his hat. This devil of a man possessed so much assurance that Roger was disconcerted. He strode about the room; he paced from alcove to window, from door to commode, and at last fell back into his arm-chair with a stealthy glance at his interlocutor, who, with the most natural manner in the world, was alternately scratching his warts and his chin. " What ! " exclaimed Roger, the first to break the silence, " what ! monsieur, do you absolutely refuse to give me even the least information 1 " " Upon my honor, monsieur, I am willing, " answered the stranger, " but I am expressly forbidden." 200 SYLVANDIRE. " Only tell me if the young person — li'iu ! " broke off Eoger, " — but is she young? " The unknown continued to scratch his warts. " Come, — is she beautiful or ugly ? " The unknown passed from his warts to his chin. " Ikit certainly I shall be permitted to inquire whether my fiancee is maid or widow." Tl'.e unknown remained impassive. " Ah ! " exclaimed Koger, striking his forehead, " it would be a mad thing to do! " " I will give you until to-morrow, monsieur, to reflect on my proposition, " said the stranger. " And to-morrow? " " To-morrow I will return at this hour. " " Alone ? " "No; I will bring the contract with me." " The contract 1 " " Oh, that binds you to nothing, " said the unknown ; " you will not sign it unless you like. Be tranquil, my gentleman, " added he with his habitual smile, " you will not be kidnapped." So saying, the mysterious man backed out, bowing still lower than he had done on entering, and when he was far away, Koger still sat, dismayed, his brow, humid with perspiration, held between his hot and trembling hands. THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 201 XIV. HOW THE MTSTEKIOUS MAX APPEARS A SECOND TIME, AND HOW, IN THIS SECOND INTERVIEW, MATTERS SEEM A LITTLE CLEARER. Roger remained some time under the weight of the blow that had just been dealt him; but at last, gathering himself together, he rose, took his hat, and hastened to the Marquis de Crette, his staunch support, his constant resovu'ce. Happily, the marquis was at home. " What is the matter ? " he cried, on seeing the chevalier. " Have you lost your suit 1 " The marquis put this question to the chevalier, so agitated was the other's countenance. " No, thank God, not yet, " answered Roger. " The de- cision is to be rendered, you know, in three days; and I even — " " Even what 1 " repeated the marquis. "I even have some hope of winning," continued Roger with a sigh. " It seems to me that there is nothing in that to call for such a sigh as you have just given." " Of course it seems so to you ; you know nothing of the conditions." " Ah ! there are conditions 1 " " Alas ! " exclaimed Roger. And he threw himself into his friend's arms. " Come, speak, " cried the marquis ; " you really alarm me." 202 SYLVANDIRE. The chevalier then told tlie marquis of his interview with the man of the opalhie eyes, Crette listened to the recital with the greatest attention; then, when the chevalier had ended, he exclaimed, — " This is a queer piece of business! Is it some bastard of Bouzenois' that they wish to provide for, — or, grand Dlen ! my poor friend, it may be — " " May be what % " cried the chevalier, turning pale at the marquis' forebodings. " It may be that the old begum herself thinks of mar- rying again." Roger shivered to the very marrow of his bones; but one reflection reassured him. " Impossible," said he; " she is dead." " Then it is improbable that you have anything to fear from tliat source." " For all that, " said Roger, " I have known of people who were thought dead, but they came back." "Ah! mon Dleu ! " ejaculated the marquis. " However," continued d'Anguilhem, " I do not think it is so, in this case." " Then let us seek for some other solution. What if it were a snare of your opponent's ? What do you say 1 " "I have thought of that; but what interest could Monsieur Afghano have in getting me married 1 " We forgot to say that the Indian answered to the name of Afghano. " Ko one knows; you must distrust him always." "Yes, certainly I distrust him; but my distrust will not gain me a day longer. To-morrow I must give an answer of some sort." " Consult your father." " But my father is fifty leagues from here ; besides, I must confess, marquis, I do not see how I can marry in THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 203 such a way. I idolize a young girl in my part of the country, a love, an angel, one who is attached to me with an affection equal to mine for her, and who will die if I marry another." " Do you think so ? " said Crette, putting out his lips with a skeptical air. " I am sure of it; I have her word." " As to dying 1 " " No, but as to her living for me alone." And then Roger related to the marquis all his adven- tures with Constance, but without pronouncing the latter's name. " What can you do, my dear fellow? After that, you have no chance to reflect. Do you love mademoiselle — is it indiscreet to ask mademoiselle's name 1 " "No; her name is Constance de Beuzerie." " The deuce ! the first name is suggestive, I admit. " " You were asking — 1 " " I was asking if you love Mademoiselle de Beuzerie more than you love an income of sixty thousand livres." " If I had but myself to consider, I should love her more than fortune, more than life, more than all; but unhappily I have a father and a mother who worship me and whom I ruin by refusing." " Yes, you are right, " said Crette ; " there lies your real obligation. This, my dear friend, as you well under- stand, is a question of conscience that you alone can solve." Roger gave a deep sigh. For his part, the Marquis de Crette became silent and relapsed into a long reverie ; then, of a sudden, he seized Roger's hand with a movement so brusque as to startle the latter. " You are a thrice-lost man ! " he declared. " I divine the source of these propositions." 204 SYLVAXDIRE. " All ! " cxcliiimed Roger in affright, " Tlie gcntlonian willi tlie wtirts is some juilge, some associate, some tip-stull", with a hunch-backed daugliter, and he feels the need of establishing her advantageously." " Marquis, I entreat you not to say such things ; you make my flesh creep." " My dear, one must speak the truth to one's friends! " " Alas ! " groaned Koger. " However, " pursued the marquis, " speak of it to your fatlier, and ask his opinion, but, in my mind, there is no doubt on the subject." " There might be still another case ! " responded the victim, dwelling on each word with a lamentable accent. " It might be that one of these gentlemen whom you have just mentioned has a daughter who — " "I thought of that," replied Crette, "but I did not like to say it. Of the two defects, Avhich would you prefer ? As for me, I confess that I should choose the incurable deformity." " It is a horrible trap," cried Roger, in a rage. " You must decide, however, " said the marquis ; " there is no middle course. It is a matter of losing your suit, or of leaping into a gulf blindfold." " Alas ! Alas ! " reiterated Roger. " My poor friend, " said Crette, whom the chevalier's situation touched, even to tears, " you are in a trap ; but you need not give up all hope before the second visit. Take advantage of the opportunity, when you get hold of that devil of a man, to turn him inside out; demand information; insist on knowing the necessity. If he refuses you, do you refuse him. I will be concealed at the door, I will follow the demon even to hell, and we shall at least have the satisfaction of getting our revenge, I will answer for that. " THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 205 " Yes, but I shall lose my suit." " All ! pshaw ! what of that 1 You cannot have every- thing." As all that the chevalier and the marquis could sug- gest in no way advanced matters, Roger took his way back to his hotel, and re-entered The Golden Harrow. Roger then sat down to write to his father; but lie reflected that a letter required four days to go to Loches and four to return, which made eight days, supposing even that the baron answered by return post. Now, judgment was to be rendered within three days; it was therefore, literally impossible to receive a seasonable answer from Anguilhem. The poor fellow, however, indeed needed an impulse from his father in order to come to any decision. He remained then, confronting himself, shedding bitter tears, his hands plucking at his hair, despairing of the future, and calling aloud upon Constance, La Pintade, La Guerite, the woods of Garenne, upon all the memo- ries, in short, of his youth; and then he reproached him- self with his unsophisticated foolishness, and admired the profound speeches of the marquis, when the latter, lis- tening to Roger's narration of his pastoral amours at Beuzerie, the apparition of Constance in Roger's room, and the flight of both to La Chapelle Saint-Hippolyte, had cried, — " How unsophisticated you were, d 'Anguilhem ! How artless you were, my handsome Roger ! — ah, but you were silly, my poor friend ! " And Roger repeated, — "Ah yes, I was very silly; yes, I was very artless; yes, yes, I was very unsophisticated ! " It can be seen that his sojourn in Paris began to operate efficaciously upon Roger. 206 SYLVANDIKE. But necessity was there, stretching out lier ruthless hand, armed with its gads of iron. Every minute was worth a day, every day had the importance of a year. On tlie morrow would return the man witli tlie warts, as inexorahlo as time, as punctual as death. Roger spent the night in seeking a way to extricate himself from his position ; needless to say, he found none. The day came. Armed with a mass of new i)roposi- tions, an arsenal of insidious questions, Roger awaited tlie man with the warts. The man did not keep him waiting long. At tlie very hour, the very minute, the very second designated, Roger, who sat with listening ear, heard the sound of his step on the stairs ; then at last, at the Avords, " Come in ! " pro- nounced by Roger with trembling voice, the door opened^ and the fatal emissary entered, humbler, blander, more obsequious than he had been on the day before. With a sweeping glance around, his eyes took in the whole room. " You are quite alone 1 " he asked. "Look for yourself," d'Anguilhem answered. The unknown renewed his inspection with the same minuteness of detail that he had employed on the former occasion; then, his inspection concluded, he approached Roger, who was sitting in his chair, as pale as a con- demned man exposed upon a scaffold. " Well, monsieur le chevalier," said the mysterious man, " have you reflected 1 " " I have done more, indeed, " answered Roger, " I have made a guess, monsieur; and so, let us speak frankly, and make an end of the matter with the present interview." "It is my most ardent wish, monsieur, " replied the unknown. THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 207 " You are sent by some one that wislies to get rid of his daughter." " To get rid of 1 Oh ! monsieur, that is a harsh expression." " Let us not cavil at the phrase, — I am, unfortunately, but too certain that it is the correct one." " Nevertheless, I would undertake to change your opinion." "Now, this father is one of my judges, is he not? " asked Eogcr, gazing steadily into the changeable eyes of the man with the warts. The stranger stared at Roger, in his turn, and Avith a degree of surprise bordering upon amazement. " Faith ! yes, monsieur, you have guessed it." " Ah ! I knew it, indeed ! " exclaimed Eoger, tri- umphantly. "Well, and what then?" " It leads me to conclude that I shall lose my suit if I do not espouse her." " And also to the certainty that you will win if you do espouse her." " It is very sad, " said Roger. " Ah ! monsieur, " said the stranger, " you do wrong to complain; you are on the high road to fortune. Go ahead, chevalier, go ahead, — that is all I have to say." " Yes, and I, a gentleman, against whose honor not a breath can be whispered, I shall have married the daugh- ter of a man that sells justice." " Oh ! you look at the matter from a deplorable stand- ing-point, INIonsieur d' Anguilhem, " replied the unknown ; " your point of vieAV is absurd, if you will permit me to say so ! A man that has influence makes use of it; he serves his friends, and the law of gratitude, which in the 208 SYLVANDIKE. law of fine natures, being granted, his friends, in their turn, do liim a service in exchange for his kind ollices." " Yes, I know, indeed; but tlie demoiselle? " " Well, the demoiselle 1 " " The demoiselle — is she a demoiselle 1 " The stranger chuckled. " Or a widow 1 " continued d'Anguilhem. The stranger chuckled still more. " The devil ! monsieur, " cried the chevalier in a rage, " I believe you are mocking me. " "God forbid, chevalier; but I laugh at j'our appre- hensions." " Which are groundless, perhaps, " returned d'Anguil- hem, " when I am required to buy a pig in a poke ! " " Your surprise will be the pleasanter, Monsieur d'Anguilhem." " Ah! I know how to be satisfied as to that, monsieur. Only let me see the demoiselle — the young person — the person I am to marry — the lady in question, in short." " Impossible, monsieur, impossible." " But come, — the father, then, — let me see the father. That is not asking too much, eh 1 " "On the contrary, monsieur, it is asking everything. Having seen the father, within twenty-four hours you will know who is the daughter." " You will drive me mad ! " exclaimed d'Anguilhem. " Come, monsieur le chevalier," remonstrated the man with the warts, speaking in his most honeyed tones, " do not thus excite yourself. The transaction is an honest one, believe me, and you will repent having raised difficulties, for, in giving way to all these petty considerations, which, I see with regret, have a ridiculous importance in your estimation, you are in a fair way to lose a fortune of fif- teen hundred thousand livres and a case that entails from THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 209 thirty to forty thousand livres of costs; -while in marrying you are assured of your million and a half, plus furniture worth sixty thousand crowns, jewels and precious stones worth more than one hundred and fifty thousand livres, to say nothing of the money in the strong hox, — and the box is heavy, I can answer for it; I was present when they put on the seals." '^Ah, ga ! ansAver one question." " Proceed, monsieur, proceed, and if I am at liberty to answer, I will do so." " How does it happen," said Koger, " that my would- be father-in-law did not offer his daughter to Monsieur Afghano, my adversary % " " Because he wished to give you the preference." " I am greatly obliged to him ! " " Then, the Indian is ugly, and you are a handsome fellow; then, too, your adversary may be a very great lord in his own country, but here his nobility is not recognized; in short, the name of d'Anguilhem sounds better to French ears than the rather barbarous one of Afghano. Madame Afghano! you understand, — how could that be announced at court? However, if you refuse to-day — " " Well, if I refuse to-day ? " " I shall go to Monsieur Afghano to-morrow." " "Why, the father is determined, then, to establish his daughter ? " " She is old enough to be settled." " Ah ! yes, I believe it. In short, I am chosen for the sacrifice." "I repeat, monsieur, that you are wrong, and your words are those of a page. You are given fifteen hun- dred thousand livres; they are laid in your hand; for that purpose you are run to earth in the worst room of a 14 210 SYLVANDIRE. bad hotel, and j'ou call yourself a sacrifice ! Ah ! really, you wear me out." " Well, monsieur, let us come to terms," said d'Anguil- heni. " Does the one who sent you wish a hundred, or two hundred, or three hundred thousand livres? I con- cede tliem, I offer tliem, I give tliem to him! " " This proposition of yours is not common sense, cheva- lier. Tlie hundred thousand crowns that you are offering are not yours to give; they form your wife's dower." " What ! my wife's dower 1 " " Eh ! yes. On marrying the young girl, you settle a hundred thousand crowns on her; that is very natural, it appears to me, when the father has made you the win- ner of fifteen hundred thousand livres." " You said ' the young girl, ' monsieur ! " cried the chevalier ; " ah ! you said it ; the demoiselle is young, then?" " You lucky, lucky d'Anguilhem ! accept, I advise you, accept ! " " Listen : you know me ; I live in open daylight. There is no mystery about me, and I play with my cards on the table." " Well, may you play a fine game to the end ! " " I ask nothing better ; but I need some evidence of your credit, a proof of your influence." "What?" " Delay for eight days the judgment to be pronounced on the day after to-morrow, and in exchange for this as- surance I will pledge you my word on two conditions." "Which are — ?" " That the girl shall not be deformed, and shall not, or, rather, she shall — " " I understand, chevalier." " Well 1 " THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 211 "Agreed." " To what 1 — you will guarantee — " "Yes." " In that case, you have my word." " In ten days, then 1 " "In ten days." " I shall be here on the morning on which the decision is rendered." "I shall expect you." " Very well, chevalier, very well. Ah ! you were bom under a lucky star. Monsieur d'Anguilhem ! " And the man with the warts took his hat and backed out of the room, bowing more humbly than ever. Five minutes later he returned in alarm. " Monsieur, " he cried, " perhaps you thought to save yourself by a bold stroke, and for that purpose stationed your friend, the Marquis de Crette, in ambush in his carriage twenty steps from the door of the hotel; do not deny it. I recognized the livery and the coat of arms ; but you are making a mistake, be assured of that. The delay accorded is a guaranty to us as well as to you. If, in the interval, anything of our projects should be noised abroad, if anything transpires of any nature whatever, if any sort of proceeding on your part gives us umbrage, I, the sole witness, — pray understand, the sole one,^ will deny everything, and you will lose your suit in disgrace. " Roger was astounded at this new threat, which cor- responded so well with his secret intentions ; for, as we have said, he had conspired with the marquis to unravel the mystery and to visit upon his tormentors the annoyance which they had inflicted upon him. However, on finding his plans discovered, he fell back, disheartened. 212 SYLVANDIRE. " What must Le iloue, monsieur, tluit you may be sat- isfied 1 " he demaiuled of the unknown. " Descend first, monsieur," replied tlie latter, " and when I have seen you depart with the marquis, I, too, will go away." Koger put on liis hat and obeyed with a crestfallen air, followed, a flight of stairs behind, by the mysterious man. He found Crett^ impatiently waiting in his carriage. He warned him that he was discovered, and they were together driven to the Luxembourg, where they con- versed a long time. Meanwhile, the man with the warts went his own mysterious way. " There is nothing to do now, " the marquis told the chevalier, " unless, very quietly, to set on foot some in- quiries, in order to engage your mind somewhat, and by preparation to deaden the blow which cannot be avoided. After all, my dear chevalier, assume tliat the thing is done, and that you have made a bad match. On the other hand, you can easily console yourself on looking around and seeing by how many other queer households you are surrounded. " " Yes, but the wives have entered those households in the usual manner, while I — I am being hunted down in fine shape ! Good Lord ! what will all ovir friends say 1 " " They will know nothing about it; you do not intend to speak of it, do you ? " "God forbid!" " Well, it is not likely that your father-in-law will for his part boast of his novel invention for lighting Hymen's torch." " Alas ! have you not yourself more than once told me that everything is known in Paris 1 " THE MYTERIOUS MAN AGAIN APPEARS. 213 " Everything is known, or nearly so ; but a tiling can be concealed if one is bent upon it. Besides, a pistol is at your head, and you must escape either by the door or by the window, as they say. Recall your studies among the Jesuits of Amboise, and since you have taken a course in philosophy, why, my dear fellow, be a philosopher." "Ah, marquis! that is a very easy thing for you to say. Come, be frank — would you make this marriage 1 Answer! " " I, the Marquis de Crette, possessing an income of sixty thousand livres, as I do, without counting my mother's property, — no, I confess, I would not marry this girl without seeing her; but if I were Roger Tan- cr^de d'Anguilhem, and I must, in case of refusal, die of hunger, I would marry Alecto herself, possibly separat- ing from her afterwards, or, the opportunity offering, breaking a bed-post over her back." " You are speaking sincerely ? " " On the word of a gentleman ! " " But, reflect, — I am in love." " That is always folly ; but, in your case, it is a misfortune. " " But think of it ! I shall lose Constance ! " " Nonsense ! Only mountains never meet, and some day you and Mademoiselle Constance will meet." " She will lose faith in my loyalty. " " You will explain matters." " She will curse me. " " Ah ! in that case, the wrong will all be hers, and she will be unreasonable." " She will not believe it possible that I could have resolved to be so unfaithful." " You will say that your father was responsible, 214 SYLVANDIRE. and slie will think it was Anguilliem's revenge on Beuzeiie." " But she too will marry." " So niucli the Letter for you, my dear fellow ! so much the better ! In the first place, you will not have it on your conscience that you have caused her to remain single. Then, once she is married as well as you, others will forget your little romance. You will go into tlie country, you will hunt with her husband, you will in- vite him to dinner; while he is paying compliments to your wife, you will be talking over old times with his. However he speeds, you will always have the advantage of taking up the affair just where you left off." " Ah ! if Madame de Maintenon were to hear you, my dear Crette." " She would think herself forty years younger, that is all." The two friends arose to go and pursue their inquiries. HOW THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. 215 XV. HOW THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. The chevalier and the marquis spent the next three days in running about. Valets talked, concierges talked, the very clerks of the court themselves opened their mouths, so adroit were the ruses and ingenious the methods em- ployed by the two friends in order to learn what they wished to know. However, after all their inquiries, they found that twelve judges and sixty councillors had marriageable daughters, so that after all their research, Roger and the marquis were but little further along than when they started. There were, moreover, certain of these damsels whom the chevalier held in dread, as they could by no means be regarded as prizes. One had been surprised at night in a half-ruined cloister back of the Rue Saint Benoit. Another had made a journey into Picardy, without either her father or her mother, and there were very ugly rumors that her cousin, the musketeer, had brought her back. A third, indeed, had been recognized, it was said, in a fiacre, at Marly, at one o'clock in the morning, leaving the notorious inn with the sign of The Golden Calf. Nothing went to prove that the demoiselle he was to marry was one of these three; but there was nothing to prove that she was not one of them. As a result, Roger remained plunged in the deepest perplexity. 216 SYLVANDIRE. In the meantime, lie learned that, in accordance with the desire that he liad expressed to the mysterious man, the judgment was to be postponed eight days. It was to him a significant mark of his persecutors' good will toward him, as well as of their iniluence in connection with the courts of justice. On the eighth day after he had written, that is, two days before a decision would be rendered, he received a letter from Anguilhem. The baron had been sparing of neither ink nor paper, for the letter contained eight large pages. He announced to the chevalier that he would himself have come to Paris, had not lack of money detained him at his chateau. He deplored the fatal necessity that weighed upon his dear son, and he left him absolutely free to act according to the dictates of his understanding or of his heart; which seemed to Roger to be a touch of the most exquisite paternal delicacy, and which, amid a thousand sobs, caused him to adopt the cruel resolution of renouncing Constance to secure the happiness of his parents. "Do not be influenced by consideration for us," wrote the baron in this model letter. " You are young, Roger, and you have long years to live; do not sadden your entire existence for the sake of easing the remainder of ours. This suit will have ruined us, your mother and me, — but, what matter ! we are used to privations. Besides, you have strength, good will, powerful friends; you will obtain employment which will admit of your assisting us a little until our deaths, which now cannot be very far distant." Roger went no further. He wiped his eyes, bowed his head with reverence, and when in due season the man with the warts arrived at his apartment, the chevalier said, — HOW THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. 217 " Monsieur, I am ready ; what have you for me to sign ? " " This, " said the emissary, drawing from liis pocket, and displaying, a paper covered with writing. " Very well, " said Roger. And he signed without reading. " Pardieu / monsieur, " said the man with the warts, " you are a straightforward gentleman, and however slow you are to decide, you at least act magnificently when you have made up your mind. That generous oversight will cost you nothing; read, however." With terrible anguish, Eoger read, trembling at every line lest he should encounter the name of one of the three redoubtable damsels; but he had the good fortune to see another name. This paper was a document imposing the obligation to marry Mademoiselle Christine Sylvandire Bouteau, sole daughter of Maitre Jean Amedee Bouteau, conseUler- rapporteur of the King's High Parliament, and contain- ing an aknowledgment to the said Christine Sylvandire Bouteau, of a dot of one hundred thousand crowns, paid on the day on which the very noble and very honorable Eoger Tancrede d'Anguilhem won his suit-at-law against the Sieur Afghano, the stepson of the late Vicomte de Bouzenois. Maitre Jean Amedee Bouteau was that austere coun- cillor who would receive neither Roger nor Afghano; the one that had no cat to which one could offer jewels, nor an ape on which one could bestow surreptitious dona- tions, nor a parrot on which one could settle a life annuity. But he had a marriageable daughter. " Is she very ugly, monsieur % " demanded Roger. " T have orders to reply to none of your questions, Monsieur le Chevalier. Make your toilet, follow me to 218 SYLVANDIRE. the Palais, be present at the judgment to be rendered in two hours, and I sliall have the lionor to conduct you thereafter to the hotel of Monsieur Bouteau, your father- in-law. " " For what purpose 1 " cried Roger, with an impulse of terror which interfered with his comprehending the in- congruity of the question. " Why, to return tlianks, in the first place, for the possession from that moment of something like a million and a half more than you now have, and next to salute your alhanced." The chevalier's legs failed him. " My father will be saved, and my mother will die in peace at Anguilhem, " he murmured, falling into an arm- chair. " Come, come, " said the man with the warts, " I see indeed that you need to be alone in order to compose yourself ; you shall go your own way to the Palais, and I will go mine." And the man with the warts took his departure cavalierly enough, this time. Roger noticed the differ- ence in his manner. " It is to be expected, " said he. " He is now sure of the matter. I have signed my own sentence." And, as Maitre Bouteau's envoy had suggested, he began his toilet. Koger felt death in his heart. He detested in advance the woman he was going to see, and yet, by a prompt- ing of the vanity inherent in the heart of man, he did not wish his first interview to give her a bad impression of his face and figure. He donned a black velvet coat frogged with gold, and a white satin waistcoat whose seams were covered with rich embroidery. He then sent a messenger for the Mar- HOW THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. 219 quis de Crette, who soon arrived in his most magnificent equipage. Behind this carriage followed the coaches of d'ller- bigny, Chastellux, and Clos-Renaud. Mademoiselle Pous- sette brought up the rear in a reraise. The marquis ascended to Roger's apartment alone. As soon as he saw the marquis, the chevalier extended his arms, crying, — "Alas! alas! alas!" " The sacrifice, then, is made 1 " " Made and executed, " was Roger's response. " I have signed. Poor Constance ! " " And have you any new intelligence of your affianced 1 " hesitatingly inquired the marquis. " Her name is Sylvandire." " Ah ! the devil ! a charming name ; that is already something. But that is only her baptismal name ; what is her family name ? " "Bouteau." " The daughter of our councillor ! " cried the marquis. " The same, " said Roger. " Alas ! it is some little monster tliat he has concealed from all eyes, and of whom he unburdens himself in ray favor." " Or in favor, rather, of your barony. I have occa- sionally met Maitre Bouteau." " And what sort of man is my father-in-law ? " " A Jew grafted on an Arab ; enormously rich, besides, according to all accounts." " And, in spite of his wealth, " cried Roger, " he is driven to employing such means to establish his daughter ! Ah ! my friend, my friend, nothing but filial devotion — " " True ; Cleobis and Biton were not to be compared with us, chevalier, in my opinion ; but we must not stay here lamenting, let us go to the Palais. If your wife is 220 SYLVANDIRE. too — queer, wliy, you can put her in one corner of tlie house with servants of her own, and a hundred thousand francs for licr maintenance. You will sulFer the aflliction of her bearing your name, that is all ; and with the other fourteen hundred thousand livres that remain, — well, you will find enjoyment elsewhere. You have read the contract carefully ? There was nothing of your being forced — " " Xo." " Well, my dear fellow, you are to be pitied then ! Come, come, we must be off." And Crette preceded d'Anguilhem, who went to the doors of their carriages to salute d'Herbigny, Clos- Eenaud, Chastellux, and Mademoiselle Poussette, one after the other, and who then entered the coach of the marquis. They reached the Palais; a crowd was assembled. The begum's son had decided to be present at the de- nouement of this long drama. It was supposed that he must have dispensed nearly fifty thousand livres in mak- ing himself agreeable to the judges. He was so beaming of aspect that Roger lacked little of fainting, and Crette became quite pale. The judges were in the next room; they were in consultation. At the end of an hour's deliberation the chamber was in session. Koger recognized his three judges, and trembled; behind them modestly came the conseiller-rapjyorteur. " What is the name of the conseiller-ra2)2:>orteur ? " Roger timidly asked his neighbor. " IMaitre Bouteau, " answered the latter ; " a very worthy man." Roger endeavored to read the face of Maitre Bouteau; but it was impossible. now THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. 221 The judges took their places with the grave aspect characteristic of those gentlemen, permitted the judicial regard, fixing upon nothing, to wander around the hall, and Maitre Bouteau unfolded a paper. " Courage ! " said Crette, leaning toward the cheva- lier's ear; " it is our father-in-law." " I am aware of it, " returned Roger, Maitre Bouteau coughed, spat, and. read as follows : — " Whereas, The Sieur Afghano, a native of India, has been unable to produce the document that he should have tendered the tribunal, and there exists no authentic proof of his right to the succession : and " Whereas, The Sieur Baron Tancrfede Palamfede d'Anguil- hem, represented by his son, Roger Tancrfede d'Anguilheni, is the next of kin to the deceased, and has presented docu- ments in due form establishing that relationship, therefore "Be it ordered by the court that the Sieur Baron Tan- crfede Palamfede d'Anguilhem shall immediately enter into possession of the estate of the late Vicomte de Bouzenois, consisting of all properties real and personal and general possessed by the deceased, as is just, and that " The Sieur Afghano, a native of India, is condemned to pay all charges without reserve or costs." Maitre Bouteau delivered the whole without once glancing at Roger, who could scarcely steady himself on his bench. The marquis put his arm around his friend and whispered, — "D'Anguilhem, your father-in-law is a grand man." " Yes ; but patience, " said Roger. " The Indian is going to produce his document." " He would not have waited until this time," returned Crette. " Be easy ; as he has not produced it, it is be- cause he has none." 222 SYLVANDIRE. In fact, the Indian produced no document. He low- ered liis liead an instant as if overcome by tlie blow ; then, raisiiif^ it immediately with a pompous air, in a voice loud enough to be heard not only by the judges but by the audience as well, he said, — " Well, it was a good thing that my mother did not give everything to that wretched Bouzenois. Here is a proof of how dangerous it is to enrich lovers. " Roger felt his anger rising, and moved as if about in- continently to avenge the memory of a relative of whom he had just been recognized the heir. " Are you mad?" cried Crette, detaining him. "Let the wretch whine, then, that has just been flayed. Your name is not Bouzenois, but d'Anguilhem; and, j^ar- dieu! the lawyers have just said something very different." At this moment, the Indian came toward the group of young people. Roger thought he was coming to him, and was ready to receive him ; but the Indian passed near them, that was all. Only, in passing, he said loud enough to be heard, — " You made a mistake. Mademoiselle Poussette, when you betrayed me. I still have an income of one hundred thousand livres. " "I congratulate you, monsieur," said Roger; "it is more than enough to support your name worthily." " There, there, do not get into a quarrel," said Crette; " let us go home and have a jolly supper." "Alas! Crette," replied d'Anguilhem, "you forget that I have to go and see my fiancee." However, Roger pronounced these words in a tone less contrite than one might have expected from him. He was thinking of his father's pride, his mother's joy, on suddenly finding themselves so prodigiously rich. And now THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. 223 the poor chevalier was so good a son that he began to shake off the thoughts of Constance's grief. And then one is quickly habituated to prosperity. Eoger left the court-room with a springing gait and an inflation of chest that would have done credit to one who had been a millionaire from birth. Crette lent him his coach to go and pay his visit to Maitre Bouteau, and he took leave of his friend, remind- ing him that the supper would be ready at eight o'clock, Roger now discovered the man with the warts who was standing behind him. His opaline eyes glowed with fire. " Maitre Bouteau has just left the Palais to return to his home. Will not Monsieur le Baron go at once and present his compliments 1 " " Certainly, my dear monsieur, " responded the cheva- lier, " it is my most earnest desire." " Well, are you satisfied, chevalier 1 " "Yes, monsieur, you have kept your word, it is truej but there are yet two conditions to be fulfilled." " And they shall be fulfilled, monsieur, as exactly — let us hope so, at least — as the first has been." " Be so kind, then, as to get into my carriage, monsieur, and we will be off. " The man with the warts got into the coach ; but not- withstanding Roger's insistence, he would sit only in front. They reached a hotel in the Rue Planche-Mibray ; they ascended to the third floor. Maitre Bouteau was sitting in his office. He was a rather small man, with an immense brow, small eyes hid- den behind spectacles, thick eyebrows sprinkled with gray, and an imperceptible mouth which was lost in the wrinkles of his cheeks ; in a word, he was a very ugly 224 SYLVANDIRE. father-in-law, but it Avns not he that the chevaHer was on tlie point of marrying, llogcr bowed ahnost graciously, and was opening his mouth to express his gratitude. "No thanks, monsieur," said Maitre Bouteau, "you had an excellent case ; besides, I have but followed the dictates of my conscience, and my colleagues, however prejudiced against you they may have been, allowed themselves to be persuaded by my feeble arguments in favor of justice." A second time Roger bowed to Maitre Bouteau; the latter did not appear to be examining liim, but, while returning his salute, he eyed him narrowly over his spectacles. This scrutiny ended, he turned toward an embroidered screen which stretched behind him, and said with perfect naturalness, — " My daughter, come hither and pay your respects to my client, Monsieur le Chevalier Roger Tancrede d'Anguilhem." Roger thought the earth was slipping from under his feet. A cold perspiration oozed from his forehead, his heart suspended its beating, and his eyes, staring and haggard, fixed their gaze upon an angle of the screen. Suddenly, Roger beheld a delicious creature appearing. Tall, of graceful figure, lithe, and agreeably propor- tioned, with black eyes veiled by velvety lashes, and long black hair that hung in heavy curls upon her white shoulders, — Sylvandire was eighteen years of age, at most, and would have passed as a miracle of beauty, Roger, breathless, stupefied, petrified, did not think even to make a bow. He remained motionless, in ecstasy, his lips parted like the statue of Apollo about to speak. " My child, " continued the councillor as he took Syl- vandire by the hand, " this is Monsieur le Chevalier HOW THE JUDGMENT WAS GIVEN. 225 Roger Tancr^de d'Anguilhem who does us the honor of asking your hand in marriage." Sylvandire raised her great black eyes to Roger, and cast upon him a look that penetrated the very depths of his heart. " Oh, I am lost ! " cried Roger to himself ; " such a beautiful girl must already have been loved by some one, unless she has been kept in a closet. " " Will you permit Monsieur le Chevalier d'Anguilhem to prefer his suit ? " continued the councillor. Sylvandire glanced a second time at Roger with a mingling of astonishment, fear, and languorous passion; but she was silent. " Silence gives consent, monsieur le chevalier, " resumed Maitre Bouteau. " Now, you shall know that Sylvan- dire is my only daughter, and that she brings her hus- band a dower of three hundred thousand livres." Sylvandire pressed her father's hand as a sign of gratitude. " Pardieu ! " said Roger to himself, " he could give her six hundred thousand for all the money it costs him. No matter! I ought to thank him for being so modest." " As to the wedding, when do you say, monsieur le chevalier 1 " asked Maitre Bouteau. " Why, " said Roger, " it is for mademoiselle to fix the date, and when she will consent — " Sylvandire bent her head^ still without speaking. " She is a mute ! " cried Roger, believing that he had discovered the probable infirmity, and incapable of mas- tering the new fear by which he was just seized. Sylvandire burst out laughing very frankly, and replied, — "No, monsieur le chevalier; thank God, I can speak." "Perhaps she is only foolish," thouglit the chevalier, 15 226 SYLVANDIRE. " ami yet with such eyes it is impossible not to possess intellect." However, as this first interview could only he cmhar- rassing to all, the councillor gave his daughter a side- glance, and she courtesied as if about to retire. " What ! " exclaimed Roger, " are you going away, mademoiselle, without deigning to say at what date you — " " I leave you to my father, monsieur," answered Syl- vandire. " Although he is a man of law, he does not like affairs to drag along. What he does is well done." " Come, " said Eoger to himself, " I was deceived in that respect. She is not very stupid." The fortunate chevalier went from one surprise to another. Sylvandire withdrew, leaving Koger alone with his future father-in-law. The marriage was set to take place in fifteen days. The arrangements settled, Koger took leave of Maitre Bouteau, and descended the stairs with a step lighter than that with which he had entered. At the street-door he found the man with the warts. " Well, monsieur, " said the latter, " are you satisfied 1 " " So well satisfied, " replied Roger, " that if the last condition is as faithfully kept as the first two, you shall have a thousand louis, my fine fellow." " That is just the same as if I had them in hand," said the unknown, bowing almost to the ground. Roger heard this exclamation, and sprang into the coach without touching the steps. " To the marquis ! " he shouted to Basque with a voice in which lingered no trace of his recent fears. Ten minutes later, the coach drew up in the court- yard of the hotel. THE CHEVALIEE IS RESIGNED. 227 XVI. HOW THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM PHILOSOPHICALLY RESIGNS HIMSELF TO A PRETTY WIFE, A MAGNIFI- CENT HOTEL, AND AN INCOME OF SEVENTY-FIVE THOUSAND LIVRES. There was a numerous company at the house of the marquis. Roger entered with a beaming countenance. All approached and overwhelmed him with congratulations. The marquis allowed this storm of felicitations to subside, and then he took Eoger by the hand and drew him into a boudoir. " Well," he said, " the fiancee? " " Charming," responded Roger, with a rueful look. " As pretty as Constance 1 " "Alas! prettier." " Why, then, what the devil are you still so gloomy about 1 " " Ah ! my friend," murmured Roger with a deep sigh, " I am perfectly sure that Constance — " "Well, yes, I comprehend," said the marquis; "but what can you expect, my dear fellow ! that also would be too much good luck, and you are getting unreason- ably exacting. Consider yourself very fortunate to be let off with that, and then, besides, who knows 1 Every- thing that happens to you is so extraordinary ! " "Oh! no, my friend, you will not persuade me that there is not some serpent hidden among all these roses. But what of it, marquis! The die is cast, and be- 228 SYLVANDIRE. sides I havo reflected that the most honorable man on earth might be deceived in my position. My wife's past is beyond mo. Well, I shall content myself with watching her future. " "That is right; that is tlie way I like to see you! Now, let us go back. A bold face, and trust me to manage at the table, happy millionaire! " They sat down to supper. The gold, the crystal, the candles, all were resplendent. At the sight Roger re- flected that he, jwor gentleman, two hours before, with- out fortune, could the next day, if he wished, receive in a handsomer hotel and with a magnificence equal to that displayed in his honor, this friend which a timely thrust had made for him. Then, while thinking all this, he remembered the fencing-master, so kind and so disinterested at the time, who had, Avithout knowing it, assured the fortune of his family by demonstrating a flanconade to his son. " My dear friends," said the marquis, "yon are aware that we have gathered this evening to rejoice over the winning of the famous suit which gives our friend an income of seventy-five thousand livres. " " You are the one that brought me luck," returned Roger with a bow to the marquis. " Here 's to the health of d'Anguilhem and his seventy-five thousand livres ! " then cried the guests together. "But wait," said Crette,"and you shall drink two healths at once, unless you prefer to drink twice." "What is it then?" at once demanded d'Herbigny and Clos-Renaud, "Our friend d'Anguilhem," said the marquis, "has suddenly fallen in love in Paris, and who can guess what dainty bit the rascal has chanced upon 1 " THE CHEVALIER IS RESIGNED. 229 " A maid of Saint Cyr, dowered by Madame de Main- tenon 1 " ventured Chastellux. " A princess palatine ? " asked Clos-Kenaud. "A daughter of the royal blood? " demanded d'Her- bigny. "Ah! well, indeed ! D'Anguilhem is noble enough already, and he is looking for money. The daughter of a lawyer, messieurs. " " Phew ! " whistled some of the guests. "Ah! chevalier, you are retrograding," said d'Her- bigny. " You should marry an actress of the Comedie- Franqaise or an opera-singer; that would be more like the grand seigneur. " "But stay, messieurs," resumed the marquis. "The damsel is as beautiful as Venus, and has a dower of six hundred thousand livres. " "Festef chevalier, we congratulate you," cried the young men in chorus. " Which means the chevalier settles in Paris, and establishes himself in the hotel of the Vicomte de Bouzenois, and gives us banquets, — banquets beside which this one is only a grub-shop dinner." " In that case, long live the chevalier and the cheva- liere ! " cried d'Herbigny, raising his glass. And all, in the same terms, did justice to d'Her- bigny's toast. " Now, said the viscount, replacing his glass on the table, "as you are on a good footing with the lawyers' guild, my dear d'Anguilhem, find for me, too, a daugh- ter of one of your father-in-law's colleagues, some pretty little rohine. I will take her even with five hundred thousand livres." " Then, here 's to the future marriage of the Vicomte d'Herbigny," said the chevalier, lifting his glass. 230 SYLVANDIRE. Then ■wliilo all were drinking lie quickly turned to Crette, and extundiug liis hand, said, — "Thanks, marquis, thanks! You have been kind, excellent, as always." In fact, Crette had saved his friend from all ridicule on the subject of his marriage. It is also true that Mademoiselle Bouteau's six hundred thousand livres had produced a magical elFect. In brief, the supper was so gay that, whatever his preoccupation, d'Anguilhem made merry even to the dessert. Eoger left the marquis two hours after midnight, making an appointment for the morning at eleven o'clock. He wished to take possession of the Hotel de Bouzenois accompanied only by his friend. At the appointed hour the marquis was at Roger's hotel. They set out together for the Place Louis-le- Grand, and this time the two doors of the grand entrance opened to the chevalier. For an hour the representa- tives of the court had been waiting to remove the seals. All that the man with the warts had said was scrupu- lously true. The strong box was full ; the caskets were gorged with jewels; the collection of engraved gems and of medals was magnificent. Eoger was dazzled at sight of such wealth. He, ■who had come to Paris with fifty louis, did not know that so much money existed in the world. He wished to repay on the spot the eight or ten thousand livres that he owed Crette; but the marquis made him understand that he was in rather too great haste by saying that he would send Basque in the morning to take charge of all that hardware. The chevalier at once selected some of the diamonds and precious stones to send to his mother. Perhaps, THE CHEVALIER IS RESIGNED. 231 wliile doing this, he was thinking of Constance; for, although he did not pronounce her name, Crette under- stood by his involuntary sighs that he had not forgotten her. The hotel, although very sumptuous, needed to be overlooked by a man of taste. Again it was Crette who undertook the task. He sent for his upholsterer, gave him his orders, and granted him eight days. The upholsterer declared that it was impossible to have everything done in so short a time. Crette contented himself with replying, — " You will be paid the day it is finished." By the seventh day the hotel was refitted and in order; and, in accordance with Roger's ambition, the arms of d'Anguilhem had replaced on the hatchment the arms of Bouzenois. In the meantime Roger had sent his mother the best carriage he could find in the coach-houses. It was Rameau-d'or who conveyed it, travelling post. He had to return by the mail-coach. Crette was Roger's never-failing resource. When he was not lending his advice, he was lending his money. When he was not lending his money, he was lending his servants. As Rameau-d'or was a trustworthy man, he was noti- fied that one of the coach-boxes, whose key was given him, contained a thousand louis, and was bidden to keep watch over it. Roger wrote also to his father and mother to come and take possession of the rest of their fortune, sending them an account, even to the last sou, of all that he had been obliged to expend, adding, moreover, that by unheard-of good fortune his fiancee was beautiful and perfectly bred, and it seemed impossible that any one could be more spirituelle. 232 SYLVANDIRE. The joy of the baron ami tlie baroness was extreme when they learned tliat their daughter-in-law seemed to be quite above reproach, and the baron declared that he would settle upon his son an income of fifty thousand livres, and keep the remainder to improve Anguilhem. " Yet, " he added, " perhaps we shall buy a town resi- dence at Loches, in order to receive there during the winter. " The report of the winning of the suit and tlio marriage to follow was spread abroad as far as Beuzerie. The viscount and the viscountess, who, while consenting to their daughter's marriage with Roger, had always pre- served a leaven of ill-feeling toward the d'Anguilhems, hastened to transmit the news to their daughter; but Constance shook her head, smiling, and would not be- lieve a word that was told her. " Has Eoger written 1 " she asked. "No." " He told me to believe nothing but what I should hear from his own lips, or should see written by his own hand." " Consequently — " " I believe in nothing but his love." The viscount and the viscountess insisted as long as they were able; but Constance, like the doubting apostle, would not believe without seeing. Before his departure for Paris the baron felt con- strained to pay a visit to his neighbors, and explain to them by what necessity Roger was forced to fail in his engagement. The viscount listened very tranquilly to his discourse from end to end, and then he bade his wife bring Constance down from her room. Constance descended, and Monsieur de Beuzerie begged that the baron would repeat to his daughter what he had just said THE CHEVALIER IS EESIGNED. 233 to him relating to Koger's marriage. The baron repeated word for word the little speech that he had framed as he came along the road; but during all the time he was speaking Constance kept shaking her head, with a smile that was full of adorable trust. Then when he had ended she asked, — " Did Koger send you a letter for me 1 " "No," answered the baron. "His position was too embarrassing. He would not have dared avow to you that he had been compelled, in spite of himself, to be unfaithful to you." " In that case, you are trying to deceive me," replied Constance. " Roger told me to believe only what I heard from his own lips, or saw written by his own hand." " Consequently," repeated Monsieur de Beuzerie. " I believe in nothing but his love." And they could get nothing further from the girl, who, moreover, appeared to take no sort of interest in the rumors which soon spread throughout the province. The departure of the baron and the baroness, travel- ling post with four horses and a courier in advance, was an event to be talked of a week for ten leagues around. It was said that Roger had found chests filled with diamonds and a gold-mine in the cellar. During this period Roger was wooing ; but his fiancee was kept under the strictest guard. Maitre Bouteau did not leave his daughter a moment, — a paternal assiduity that continued to nourish Roger's misgivings, Never- theless, he went daily to pass an hour with Sylvandire, and the girl, to the great amazement of her future spouse, displayed a most varied culture and a most agree- able mind. Roger never ceased to look and to listen. All the customary formalities, moreover, had been 234 SYLVANDIRE. observed, and only tlic arrival of the great relatives was awaited to proceed with 11 le marriage ceremony. Tluit arrival was too stately a sjDectacle for us to neg- lect attempting to give some idea of it to tlie reader. Monsieur and Madame d'Anguilhem had spiritedly ordered their wardrobes from J'aris. Hence they appeared dressed in the latest styles of the court, and as both were of ancient lineage and possessed the noble bearing that two revolutions have not yet been able to efface from our real nobility, they presented a suitably imposing appearance; but the nephews and cousins from tlie country, and the distant relatives from Saintonge and Perigord, produced a profound sensation. They came in the felt hats, doublets, breeches, and cloaks of the time of Louis XIII. One would have said that a collection of family portraits had emerged from the garret. Roger, who dreaded ridicule above all things, was married at night at Saint Roche, thus postponing the wedding-feast until all the relatives, loaded with gifts, would have departed in the conveyances by which they had come. The baron and the baroness lavished caresses on the lawyer's daughter, who smiled affection- ately at her husband and lent herself admirably to their endearments. Roger thanked the Marquis de Crette for all the ser- vices rendered him and the honor done him, and prom- ised to write to him on the subject which had so tormented and which still tormented him more than ever. Then he set out with his wife for a little country-seat at Champigny, which had long been used as a place of residence by Monsieur de Bouzenois. As for the baron and the baroness, they went back to Anguilhem, impatient to heighten by a little necessary THE CHEVALIER IS RESIGNED. 235 outlay the splendor of the escutcheon that was falling into reproachful decay above the gateway of the chateau. The day following Eoger's departure for Champigny the Marquis de Crette received from the chevalier by special courier, a letter which contained only these few lines: — " I am the most fortunate of men ! " Do me the favor, my dear marquis, to ask my father-in- law for the address of the man with the warts, and remit to him, in my name, one thousand louis. " Yom* sincere friend, "Le Chevalier d'Anguilhem." 236 SYLVANDIRE. XVII. now THE CHEVALIER FOUND HIMSELF IN SUCH LUCK THAT HE "WAS READY, LIKE POLYCRATES, THE TYRANT OF SAMOS, TO CAST A RING INTO THE SEA. Thus Koger had set his conscience at rest with regard to Mademoiselle de Beuzerie. If nothing weakens love like possession, nothing nourishes it like hope; but hope once lost, the strongest love retires, if it is not destroyed, before stern necessity. Hence when Roger knew that he must no longer indulge in his old-time fancies, and found himself face to face with one of the most seductive realities that could exist in all the world, he wept and he moaned, but in the end he sacrificed himself, and with a very good grace even. He took advantage, then, of his mother's return to Anguilhem to write Constance a most touching letter. He told her that one of the necessities that gentlemen sometimes encounter, and by which their courage is tried, had come upon him, and that, in sacrificing him- self to the happiness of his family, he was about to re- nounce the hope of ever being happy himself. He tlien entreated Constance to forgive and to forget him. But he closed by swearing to his dear love that, in spite of the inexorable decree that he was forced to obey, — the style is that of Corneille, still much in vogue at that date, — he, Eoger, should love Constance until death. Constance, thus released from her promise, became free again, and could marry in turn. THE CHEVALIER FINDS HIMSELF IN LUCK. 237 When Eoger was writing Constance the letter whose substance we have just given, he had not yet liad occa- sion to write to the Marquis de Crette the one whose contents we gave at the close of the preceding chapter. He was then yet distrustful of Sylvandire, and he thought that, deceived beforehand, in all probability by his wife, he would always have the best side of the conjugal scene if ever the two rivals should compare notes, and one of them should show the other the letter that she had received. Roger had been deeply moved while inditing the mournful sentiments that we have set forth, and, with eyes still wet with tears, he took the letter containing them to the Baronne d'Anguilhem. She, good dame, still possessed of faith in the undying nature of love, even when crossed by insurmountable obstacles, hastened to refer the matter to her husband, the more especially because Roger had charged her to forward the letter to Mademoiselle de Beuzerie, and to see above all things that it was placed in her own hands. Monsieur d'Anguilhem was extremely embarrassed by this overture. To fail in the fulfilment of his son's desire was, in his own estimation, to betray a trust, and it must be confessed that during the last four months Roger had so grown in the paternal opinion and esteem , owing to the way in which he had borne himself in the capital, that the baron respected his son almost as much as he loved him. On the other hand, to convey to Constance a letter filled, undoubtedly, with vows of undying love was, perhaps, to rekindle the embers that were very certain to die out if left alone. It was, per- haps, to foster culpable thoughts, to foment a revolution at the hearthstone of the Beuzeries. For the baron had not sought to learn the contents of 238 SYLVANDIRE. the letter, and ho would as soon have cast himself into the fire as to have done it, such was his delicacy in tlio matter. The baroness, for her part, could give him no information save that, knowing Roger's unalterable ailection for Constance, the letter must contain dreadful lamentations against fate and cruel accusations against destiny. As a result, after the baron had considered and reconsidered the subject of Roger's letter in all its bearings, he prudently decided that it would be better hot to remit the letter to Mademoiselle de Beuzerie; and in order that he might not reverse his decision, he double-locked the epistle in a cabinet. The carrying out of this resolution was for some time a source of much torment to the Baron d'Anguilhem; but he gradually gained comfort from the thought that chance often makes use of accident to do a great deal of good in this world. As a result. Mademoiselle de Beuzerie, not having received the letter which released her from her vows, would admit nothing of what was said to her about Roger's marriage, replying to the most positive asser- tions of her father and her mother, — " They have made him believe that I am dead ! " During all this time, Roger, supposing that he had restored her freedom to Constance, was very much at peace, and, were we not afraid of giving our readers too bad an opinion of our hero, we would even add that he was very happy. I do not think there could be a marriage, unless it united a tiger and a panther, that could not pretend to the enjoyment of peace for a fortnight after the wedding- day. Moreover, aside from her beauty, which was perfect, and of which Roger was unusually appreciative, Syl- THE CHEVALIER FINDS HIMSELF IN LUCK. 239 vanilire seemed an adorable combination of simplicity, grace, and virtue. Her newly-made spouse had questioned and cross- questioned her. He had exhausted his wisdom and logic in an effort to involve her answers in contradic- tion, bl^t on no subject had he been able to surprise her in an untruth ; and so he unceasingly asked himself why Maitre Bouteau had taken so many precautions, such care and pains to secure the settlement of a treasure so desirable. " But what did you do at your father's, dear? " Eoger once asked. " Oh! it was very dull," responded Sylvandire. " But did he never entertain 1 " "Oh! certainly, old counsellors, old lawyers, old judges, — all men whose talk was very tiresome." " They were all ? " " Oh I mon Dieu, yes, absolutely all." Thereupon Roger, after having dreaded a deformity, an infirmity, and something worse, upon recovering from these three terrors concluded that his wife must be addicted to a secret vice. " Perhaps she is a gourmand," he said to himself. It was a vice of the day. See Saint Simon. And he essayed to provoke her appetite by the help of the exquisite wines that Monsieur de Bouzenois had kept in his cellar for twenty years; but, after tasting the best Tokay and the most exquisite Constance, Sylvandire made a little grimace of disgust, and re- turned to her pure cold water, the only drink that she liked. On one occasion, having taken a sip of Syracuse, a flush overspread her face, and she was uncomfortable from it during the remainder of the evening. She de- 240 SYLVANDIRE. clurcJ tliat henceforth slio wouhl abstain from so much as ■\vettiiig her lips with any sort of wine. " My wife is not foml of tlie ta1)le," thought Roger. " Let u.s look for some other vice, for certainly she must have one." "Ah! now I have it!" he said, one fine morning. " My wife is a gflmhler. " And that very evening he placed a roi;leau of gold before her and handed her the cards; but Sylvandire understood no game, laughed like mad when she won, and made a face for the loss of a twelve-sous piece. "My wife is not a gambler," said Roger, " it is true; but perhaps she is miserly." Roger put his wife into her carriage, crammed her pockets with gold, and took her to the most fashion- able milliners and dressmakers in Paris. Sylvandire spent three hundred louis on bonnets, laces, and gowns, and that without bargaining. " The devil ! " exclaimed Roger. " She must be ex- travagant, then." However, when he one day intentionally offered her a slight reproach for having paid ten louis more for an English guimpe than it was worth, Sylvandire thanked him for the remonstrance, and begged that he would in the future himself regulate her expenditures. " So much the worse ! So much the worse! " thought Roger. " It must be something very serious." Then Roger stood guard and watched to see if there might not come prowling about the conjugal mansion one of those creatures of both night and day called cousins, a dangerous species of which one can be rid only by slaying them on the spot. But not a plume of a lover, as Mademoiselle Scudery would have said, not a muzzle of a gallant, as Moliere THE CHEVALIER FINDS HIMSELF IN LUCK. 241 would have said, showed itself in the neighhorhood of Champigny. "Most decidedly, I possess a treasiare," Roger said to himself in aif right; "and I was born, it must be ad- mitted, under some lucky star as yet undiscovered by the modern astronomers." It was true, however, or at least it seemed to be true. To say that Sylvandire felt great love for her husband is a thing we dare not affirm. Perhaps Sylvandire loved nothing, and in the eyes of poor Roger, that absence of love was a virtue ; but there is nothing like these apparently indifferent people for waking up, for suddenly taking fire. There is nothing like a sunset behind the clouds for producing hail, rain, and storm. Maitre Bouteau visited his children at Champigny. Eoger, who adored his own parents, and wrote to them twice a week, thought Sylvandire very cold toward this kind father who had accomplished so much for her. He meditated for two or three days upon her indifference, and as he was in a mood to discover good reason for everything, he persuaded himself in the end that her love for himself had extinguished all other love. We see that Roger was already far advanced in the study of his role as husband. From a pessimist he had become an optimist. Moreover, Roger paid a thousand and one attentions to Maitre Bouteau, and Maitre Bouteau reciprocated them. But the one had an object in view; the other had none. Roger determined to attain a certain footing with Maitre Bouteau, and when he had reached the desired point, to sound him to the depths. After a hearty country dinner which had lasted until seven o'clock in the evening, Roger thought his opportunity had at last arrived. 16 242 SYLVANDIRE. " Come, Maitre Bouteau," lie said, as he drew his father-in-law into an embrasure of the window, " come, speak frankly, now that you no longer fear I shall escape you, and, I will also add, now that I no longer even wish to escape; tell me — for I must admit that, so far, I have not discovered for myself — what the fault was with Sylvandire. Of course you must have had your reasons for disposing of her in so strange a fashion." " I shall be very glad to speak freely, my dear son- in-law. In the first place, you can see for yourself," said the good man whose tongue had been loosened by the muscatelle, " I made Sylvandire 's dot by the busi- ness, — a hundred thousand crowns." " I know the figure," remarked Roger. " A sum that you will get back after I am gone, with interest. Then, again, I made sure that my daughter would not marry one of these provincial lordlings whose possessions consist of cloak and sAvord, nor one of these tradesmen who credit their debts and debit their credits, in a word, who are ruined unless a wife comes to the rescue." "You knew, then, the amount of Monsieur de Bouze- nois' fortune ? " " To the last franc, sou, and denier, my dear son-in- law. I had myself verified everything, computed every- thing, made every estimate." " But there were certainly gentlemen of the court to be preferred to me. " " Without doubt; but they had no lawsuits that deliv- ered them up to me, bound hand and foot. Then, too, fortunes of fifteen hundred thousand livres are rare, even at court. Besides, I had always said that I would dower my daughter from the first important case that came in my way. To take money as your judges have THE CHEVALIER FINDS HIMSELF IN LUCK. 243 done is to rob both justice and the suitor; but, on the other hand, to throw into the bargain and give that same suitor who is indebted to you for his fortune, a charm- ing girl, is at once, I think so at least, to perform a duty and to render a service. " "Quite the same thing," thought Roger. "In fact, the idea is very reasonable, and in an extreme case one can believe it. And so," he added aloud, " and so, my very dear father-in-law, you were not the least in the world embarrassed with Sylvandire 1 " " Oh ! mon Dieu, not at all, unless it was that she found it pretty dull with me, and that, as she is of a very decided character — " " Ah ! my wife has a decided character 1 " "Her little head is iron, my dear son-in-law. As I was saying, since she is of a very decided character, I trembled from one hour to another lest she should commit some mad act. She is a girl of broad intellect, and requires above all things to be constantly enter- tained. " " She likes pleasure, then? " demanded Roger. " I know nothing about it, having never provided her with any. However, from what I am able to gather from her character, I should say that she would not dislike amusements." "Father-in-law, you certainly believe that I Avish to make Sylvandire happy, do you not? " " You are doing all in your power toward that end." " Well, let us hear now. If, with that end in view, I were to consult you about her tastes and her character, what advice would you give me 1 " " I should say : have confidence in her — " " Ah ! indeed, so much the better," interrupted Roger. 244 SYLVANDIRE. "But wait, wait, " continued the father-in-law. "I should say : have confidence in her, but watch her always." "The devil!" ejaculated Roger, ill-pleased enough with the conclusion. The next day Maitre Bouteau set out for Paris, leav- ing his son-in-law quite preoccupied with their conver- sation of the night before. In fact Koger was so happy that it was evident such happiness could not last. And indeed Roger's very happiness was torture. A strange thing is the heart of man. We do not speak of a woman's, which we know only by sympathy. A strange thing, we repeat, is the heart of man, and one knows not what to think of the indefinite assortment of loves it contains. Certainly Roger had loved Con- stance well. Roger loved her even to the extent that had he learned of her marriage he would have been in despair. Well, Roger also loved Sylvandire with a difi'erent love, it is true. He loved Constance as one loves a beautiful lily, admiring its purity, intoxicated with its perfume, cherishing it in a corner of the garden of one's heart, away from all eyes, far from all gaze. He loved Sylvandire as one loves a beautiful dia- mond, causing it to flash its fires at every light, wear- ing it in the sight of all, gaining the envy of the ambitious. The love he had experienced for Constance was the purest glow of the soul. The love he felt for Sylvan- dire was a somewhat commoner blaze, which, kindled in the depths of the heart, gradually won upon all the senses. Roger could have spent his life in looking at Constance, and he would have been happy in looking at her. In his relations with Sylvandire he would have THE CHEVALIER FINDS HIMSELF IN LUCK. 245 died of love, like Narcissus, had he been compelled to limit himself merely to the sight of her. And now that I have sketched Roger's two loves, it is for the women to say with which of the two they prefer to be loved. But in very truth Roger cherished them both, the one in his soul, the other in his heart; and perhaps even he was so happy, and feared so much to alter his condition, only because the one completed the other. 246 SYLVANDIRE. XVIII. HOW THE CONJUGAL HORIZON OF THE CHEVALIER d'aNGUILHEM gradually CLOUDED OVER. A FEW more days were passed in perfect happiness. But, constantly tormented by the confidences made to him by his father-in-law with regard to Sylvandire, Roger resolved to make a proposition to his wife that would perhaps put to a test the calmness which seemed an affectation on her part, so profound it was. And Roger was wrong, we must admit. To enjoy present blessings and trust in heaven for those to come is one of the first precepts of human wisdom. It is also one of the least practised. Question three-fourths of the men who have been unhappy, and they will con- fess that they searched for their first grief, as Diogenes searched for a man, with a lantern. To be brief, one fine morning Roger lighted his lan- tern and went to find Sylvandire. "My beautiful darling," he said to her, "I have some news to announce that will certainly delight you; for of course, as I am greatly pleased, you will be greatly pleased." "Why, certainly," responded Sylvandire, lifting to Roger a slow glance which was not exempt from some anxiety. "This happiness arises from our love, Sylvandire; and you, of course, like me, prefer seclusion in love." Sylvandire remained silent. THE CONJUGAL HORIZON CLOUDED. 247 " Now," continued Roger, "as just we two love eacli other," and Roger somewhat emphasized liis words, " to be by ourselves, to be far from society — " Sylvandire gave ear like a horse at the whistling of the lash. " We will sell the Hotel de Bouzenois and have the furniture stored. Then we will live, if you like, at Anguilhem, where Maitre Bouteau will delight us by coming to spend his vacation." " And why should we bury ourselves in the coun- try 1 " demanded Sylvandire with some spirit. " Why, to live with my family." "Your family is not mine," replied Sylvandire; " and save for the month that he would come to stay with us, my father would spend the rest of the year in Paris." "Yes, my dear, you are undoubtedly right. But, between ourselves it may be said, Sylvandire, I do not think you care the least in the world to live with Maitre Bouteau." "You deceive yourself. I dearly love my father; and besides, I have no intention of exiling myself in that wa}'." " Do you call residence with me exile ? Oh ! the word is not pleasant, Sylvandire." "But, my dear," rejoined in a much milder tone the young wife, who in a first discussion dared not go too far, "are we not rich enough to live in Paris, and to live there magnificently even? " "Certainly," answered Roger. "Yet I wished to learn if you cared more for Paris than for me. At the first trial, you have settled it, — thanks! " " Oh! by no means; you are deceived," cried Sylvan- dire effusively, as soon as Roger had committed the 248 SYLVANDIRE. imprudence of letting her see that his proposition was only a jest. " By no means; I will live wherever you wish, my darling, and provided I am near you that is all I require." She was quite sure, while speaking thus, of returning promptly to Paris. " Yes, " returned Koger. " But you prefer that we should go back to the capital and amuse ourselves a little this winter, do you not? " "You are wrong, my dear, to think that. I have no preference for one place more than another, and I wish everything that you wish." What return can be made to a woman so submissive, except to outstrip what one supposes to be her desire? Roger therefore gave orders to make immediate prepa- ration for their departure, and they returned to Paris. Roger had few acquaintances besides his old friends, and Sylvandire had none at all; for the judges, the counsellors, and the lawyers that frequented Maitre Bouteau's hotel could not be termed acquaintances. They were therefore satisfied to write to Crette, d'Her- bigny, Clos-Renaud, and Chastellux that they had come back to Paris, and that they dined every day at two and received every evening at eight. Madame d'Anguilhem did the honors of the Hotel de Bouzenois marvellously well, and was, on the whole, accounted charming. On the first evening the Marquis de Crette drew Roger apart, and having led him into an alcove, he said, — " My dear chevalier, as I do not wish to be debarred from your house — " " What ! debarred from my house ! " interrupted Roger. " What do you mean ? " "My dear fellow, you are young," answered Crette. THE CONJUGAL HORIZON CLOUDED. 249 " Your heart is pure and your soul is innocent. Now learn one thing. While the wife's friends are almost always the husband's, the husband's friends are rarely the wife's." MVhy is that?" " Why 1 It would take too long to tell you. Per- haps I shall write two or three volumes on the subject some day when I have learned how to spell. I wish to tell you now that, whatever may be said to you against me, you have my permission to believe it, save only if it comes to pass that you are told I am paying court to Madame d'Anguilhem. You know me, Roger. I give you my word as a gentleman that your wife shall always be as sacred to me as if she were my sister. " " And never shall you be treated in my house as other than a brother," replied Eoger. " Never shall you be excluded from my house until it pleases you to exclude yourself. Perish wife and fortune sooner than friend- ship like ours ! " " Amen ! " responded Crette. The marquis was, in fact, very assiduous in his attend- ance at the chevalier's. But he was so scrupulous as never to arrive alone, and to make his hours coincide with those of everybody else. Then, too, he almost always left at the same time as the group of friends whom he had brought. In a word, faithful to his promise, Crette limited his attentions to the husband, causing Madame d'Anguilhem to begin by despising him as an indifferent person, and to end by hating him as an enemy. HoAvever, in a short time, the Hotel de Bouzenois, now the Hotel d'Anguilhem, became the rendezvous of a goodly company. Sylvandire, beautiful and gracious, attracted gallants as honey draws flies. But Crette, 250 SYLVANDIRE. firm at his post with d'Herbigny and Clos-RenauJ, drove away the flies Avith his conquering airs and his jests, which were always applauded by Roger. And so six months sped away without Madame d'Anguilliem's having given any grounds for gossip, Avhatever inclina- tion toward it she might at heart, perhaps, have had. She would have liked, nevertheless, to go to Ver- sailles, and had, with this object in view, turned all her batteries in the direction of religion. But the marquis and his friends were one and all outspoken against the Old Woraan, as they called Madame de Maintenon, against the Jesuit, as they called Pere Letellier, against the Antiquities, as they styled the courtiers, against the old Machine, as they styled Louis XIV. In this, as in everything, Roger was ranged on the side of his friends. And when Sylvandire insisted upon receiving into her house a more Christian society, he gave her to understand that he did not intend to con- vert the hotel into a monastery, and that if the abbes appeared, he would offset the black cloth with muske- teers of all colors. As will be seen, there was a great distance between Roger of Paris and Roger of Amboise, between Sylvan- dire's husband and Constance's lover, between the free- thinker in revolt against the cloth and the student resolved to turn Jesuit. Sylvandire, who felt that she was not the stronger, was forced to yield. About this time Maitre Bouteau was soliciting the position of president. Roger spoke of his father-in- law's wishes to Crette, and Crette, with his habitually obliging spirit, threw himself into the campaign, his friends doing likewise. But, however earnest their solicitations, however skilful their plans, they saw THE CONJUGAL HORIZON CLOUDED. 251 clearly that, depending only on their own forces, they would not succeed. Some one then spoke to Maitre Bouteau of a certain Marquis de Royancourt, a great gulper of masses, and one high in favor with the Maintenon. Maitre Bouteau promptly recalled to mind that this same Marquis de Koyancourt had, three or four years previously, been engaged in a lawsuit which he had won before the tri- bunal of which he was tlie conseiller-rap2)orteur. Maitre Bouteau proceeded to call on Monsieur de Eoyancourt, by whom he was very well received, and he reminded the marquis of the incident of the suit which tlie latter remembered perfectly. Now, as Maitre Bouteau thought the recommendation of a pretty woman could do his affair no harm, he re- quested Soger's permission to present Monsieur de Koy- ancourt to him and his wife, — a presentation to which Koger, not being distrustful, offered no opposition. The Marquis de Royancourt was therefore introduced to Roger, who made a thousand polite speeches, and to Sylvandire, who modestly cast down her eyes. Roger showed Monsieur de Royancourt every cour- tesy, partly out of politeness, and partly because he pre- ferred to stand well rather than ill with him. He was an all-powerful favorite admitted to the solemn suppers of Madame de Maintenon, and lording it over the ante- chamber of Pere Letellier. On the next day after this visit Maitre Bouteau was appointed president. It was quite natural that one should entertain with his best a man to whom one was under such obligations. Therefore, on his second visit, the marquis was still more feted than at the first. As for Monsieur de Roy- ancourt, he expressed to the Chevalier d'Anguilhem his 252 SYLVANDIRE. surprise that such a man as he, young, rich, and talented, shoukl not solicit some place at court or in the army. He obligingly tendered his services. Roger, who at all times had possessed a certain fund of ambition deep in his heart, replied only with the most sincere thanks. Thus far, — he avowed to Crette who felt for the new- comer a degree of antipathy , — thus far, we say , the mar- quis had in his eyes appeared to be very kind and gracious. But, as we have implied, there was a difference of opinion between the two friends, Crette looked upon the Marquis de Eoyancourt with an unfavorable eye. He knew how tortuous were the paths of tliose courtiers with the sanctimonious ways, who had just established them- selves as extinguishers upon all the brilliant pleasures that had marked the first two-thirds of the great king's reign. " Tartufe " would certainly not have been played in the period of Monsieur de Eoyancourt's influence. As for Sylvandire, she begged her husband to accept the good offices of Madame de Maintenon's favorite. " We shall be admitted at Versailles," she said. "Perhaps, even, we shall be assigned an apartment." " What then 1 " replied Crette. " Is it not much better to be one's own master, as Koger is, than to have to obey the peevish whims of an old king always in a bad humor, and Avhom nobody can amuse any longer, not even Madame de Maintenon ? As to apartments, you have a dozen of them here, in every way more con- venient, I promise you, than those at Versailles. Granted, however, that a regiment is given to d'Anguil- hem. Why, by all the devils! although d'Anguilhem is as brave as Alexander or Hannibal or Csesar, to me he does not seem to have the least vocation for war. I had a regiment once myself. Well, I sold out. I will THE CONJUGAL HORIZON CLOUDED. 253 resume active service wlien Madame de Maintenon is no longer the minister of war. " "You, monsieur," sharply retorted Sylvandire, "are sated with pleasures and honors, and I can understand your speaking thus; but Monsieur d'Anguilhem and I are novices and are thirsty." Crette then turned upon his friend a questioning look, to which Roger replied by a sign in the negative. Vanquished, Sylvandire went to find her father and sent Maitre Bouteau to the charge. Maitre Bouteau urged forward Monsieur de Royancourt. It happened that one day at a banquet, one Wednes- day, I think, Monsieur de Eoyancourt, who fasted four times a week, affected to eat only fish, and reproached the chevalier politely but quite severely, nevertheless, for the small observance he gave to the commandments of the church. Crette and his friends anticipated a sharp retort on the part of d'Anguilhem to that importunate personage, but they waited for some time. At last Roger replied, but less sharply than the marquis' unseemly reproach merited. "Come, come," said Crette aside to his friend; " we are declining, and the Royancourt is in the ascendency. Look out, d'Anguilhem, look out, you are ruled." In fact Monsieur de Royancourt became a daily guest at the hotel. He arrived with a grand train, with mag- nificent horses and insolent valets. From him Sylvan- dire learned all the news of the great world in which she longed to appear, but which was closed to her, like one of those enchanted gardens of the " Arabian Nights," which are guarded by dragons. The dragon that forbade her entrance into this garden was the Marquis de Crette, and she hated him cordially. 254 SYLVANDIRE. Koger, too, began to see clearly through these manoeu- vres, and the new-comer tried his patience exceedingly. " This Royancourt annoys me greatly, " Roger said to his friend one morning. " He took my wife and my father-in-law yesterday to that Jesuit, Letellier. All this sermonizing suits me little." "Well, go away from it all," said Crette, who was on the most cordially familiar footing with him. " Take Sylvandire into Touraine, leave me with full power, and in your absence, never fear, 1 will clear the premises." " Parbleu ! that is an idea! " exclaimed Roger. Thereupon, he made everything ready for their depar- ture, but said not a word to any one, save that two hours before entering the carriage he notified Sylvan- dire that he should take her into the country. Sylvandire was astounded at this bold stroke, of which she had deemed Roger incapable. Then she wished to discuss the subject, but Roger stood his ground. Then she wept, but Roger was insensible to her tears. Then the hour arrived, and she had to start without receiving the adieux of Maitre Bouteau or those of Monsieur de Royancourt. " Oh! this is monstrous! " exclaimed Sylvandire, as she entered her carriage. "But," replied the chevalier as he took his place beside her, " but, my darling, since you are happy wherever I am, as you have assured me, of what do you complain? Let me hear." "Monsieur, you might at least have warned me in time to take leave of my father and my friends." " Impossible, my angel. The idea of going occurred to me just when I communicated it to you." " Are we to stay long on your estates ? I warn you beforehand that I hate the province. " THE CONJUGAL IIOIIIZON CLOUDED. 255 "But nothing compels us to stay there eternally. We shall stay as long as we are both pleased. " And just then the postilion cracked his whip, and the carriage dashed off at full speed. At the fourth relay they stopped for supper. Sylvan- dire requested that she might send news of themselves to her father, to which Roger was not at all opposed. Sylvandire then wrote a letter, whose contents Koger's delicacy would not permit him to seek to learn. How- ever, that letter finished, she continued to write others, which proceeding gave rise to some suspicions. But what Koger dreaded above all things was a first scene that should be at all serious; for he knew that the conjugal sea, once troubled, would never again become perfectly calm. Nor was he willing, moreover, to question the maid who posted the letters. It seemed to him an indignity to communicate suspicions of such a nature. Then, too, perhaps he reckoned that, lucky so far, his star would always remain bright. At Chartres, Sylvandire asked him to stay a few hours that she might pray in the cathedral. Since Sylvandire had, as we have said, affected great piety, from the time of Monsieur de Royancourt's appear- ance at their house, her request did not surprise Roger. Yet, as he did not know what to do with himself during those three or four hours, he informed Sylvandire that he would take a horse and visit d'Herbigny, who had a country-seat in the neighborhood. Sylvandire took her way toward the cathedral, and Roger set out for the viscount's. Roger remained there three hours; but as he was less intimate with d'Herbigny than with Crette, he said to him only that he and his wife were taking a pleasure -trip to Touraine. 256 SYLVANDIRE. On going back to the inn, Roger learned that Sylvan - dire had not returned. He waited about an hour. Then, as she did not return, he walked as far as the cathedral. Sylvandire was not at the cathedral any more than she was at tlie inn. He therefore went back to the Golden Cross, called for the host, and asked for infor- mation. He then learned that Sylvandire had gone off in her post-chaise with her maid. This was a cruel blow, yet he preserved entire presence of mind, and said to the landlord, — " Nothing was wanting, was there? " "No, monsieur," replied the host; "and madame appeared to be quite satisfied." " That is well," returned Roger, and he ascended the stairs with wrath in his heart. He entered the room that his wife had occupied, and found on the toilet-table, still in disorder, a letter from Sylvandire, on which his address was traced in small characters, very firm and very bold. This is what the letter contained : — " Monsieur, — You thought proper to take me from home upon two hours' notice. I, who am a woman, and under this title lay claim to a few more privileges than you, am returning to Paris, and I notify you two hours afterwards. " Sylvandire. " Continue your journey or come back. Do not incon- venience yourself. You know I have my father and my house in Paris." " She has outwitted me, " said Roger, " but she shall pay for it. Ah! Crette, you Avere quite right. I am no longer master; but let us wait a little, and we shall see." THE CONJUGAL HOKIZON TEMPESTUOUS. 257 XIX. HOW THE CONJUGAL HORIZON OF THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM grew suddenly TEMPESTUOUS. As we have said, it was a cruel blow, and the more cruel in that it struck a man still on the threshold of life, still in the dawn of illusion, one whose heart had already suffered much, and tlie happiness of which had been too brief for it to be surfeited. Roger, therefore, felt at once all the transports of rage, shame, and jealousy. He ordered Breton, his valet, to procure three post- horses, and as soon as the horses were at the door of the inn, he leaped upon one, and Breton sprang upon another. The postilion bestrode the third, and all three were off at full gallop. Motion is one of the irresistible necessities of tortured souls. The gallop of a horse that is carrying us toward certainty, a greater misfortune, perhaps, but sometimes also toward revenge, Is a species of physical balm poured \ipon the wounds of the soul. The road vanishes behind us; the trees flee. One feels that one is advancing, nearing, arriving. A thousand feverish visions pass before the eyes. A thousand plans, each more senseless than the other, spring up in the heated brain only to be overthrown. The madder the horse's pace the more he is urged; and a demon shrieks in your ear, "Faster! faster! faster! " 17 258 SYLVANDIRE. Roger made tlie journey in five hours without resting a moment save to change horses; and yet he did not overtake Sylvandire. lireton was bruised to a pulp, but he himself was unconscious even of fatigue. When Koger turned into the court of his hotel, Syl- vandire had been at home an hour and a half. Roger entered the salon, booted and dusty, with riding-whip in hand. Sylvandire was already arrayed in evening dress, and was gracefully leaning on her elljow on a sofa. She was conversing with Monsieur de Royancourt and three or four of his friends whom he had introduced at the Hotel d'Anguilhem. Such audacity astounded Roger. He felt his legs failing under him. He leaned against the door. He was as pale as death. " It is Monsieur de la Fontaine's fable over again," murmured Roger. " ' La Lice et sa compagne.^ There are four of them. Well, I will get Crette and two friends. Then we will take a turn behind the Convent de Saint Sacrement." However, on Roger's arrival, all rose and pressed around him, displaying so much politeness in behalf of the new-comer that none but a rustic would not have waited for a different occasion to exhibit liis anger. Besides Roger instinctively felt that sooner or later the opportunity would come. As for Sylvandire, she contented herself with making him a sign with her hand. Then with a little gesture full of pouting coquetry, she cried, — " What! you could appear in such disorder — ah! bad husband that you are! I certainly think I deserve that a suitable toilet should be made by one entering my salon. Will you not go and dress, my dear? " Roger stood aghast at her self-possession. He was THE CONJUGAL HORIZON TEMPESTUOUS. 259 seized by a strong desire to clear the house on the in' stant with the whip that he held in his hand; hut the dread of scandal restrained him. "You are right, niadame," he responded. "But, as 3'ou knew that I was about to return, I had hoped to find you somewhat more retired." And he stared steadily at IMonsieur de Eoyancourt for the purpose of causing him to feel that the admoni- tion was aimed especially at him. Like well-bred people, Monsieur de Royancourt's three friends understood that they must raise the siege. They, therefore, incontinently withdrew. As to Mon- sieur de Ivoyancourt, he lingered behind them a few moments. Then, rising in turn, he saluted Sylvandire and Roger, and effected his retreat, having delayed it, undoubtedly, only by way of silent protest against the husband's manifesto. " What, monsieur! " exclaimed Sylvandire as soon as Monsieur de Royancourt had withdrawn, "do you thus drive people from my house 1 " "What do you call your house, madame?" retorted Roger. " My first impression is that it would sound as well to speak of otir house." "Ours, yours, or mine, no matter which, I shall not discuss words with you; but, once for all, I intend to receive here whom I like. " " And I — intend to drive away from here whom I dislike." " You are a very — " "Well, speak out." "A very provincial gentleman." " And you are a sharp little limb of the law." " Monsieur! Do you think to frighten me? " " Frighten or not, you are going to set out with me at 260 SYLVANDIRE. once for Anguilliem, Tliis second time, however, you will not return so quickly as you did the first time." " You speak in this manner because you think me alone and helpless," said Sylvandire, throwing off all restraint. " Ihit I warn you that you deceive your- self, and, upon my word, you will find that there are those who will make you rei)ent of your behavior toward me." "All! your Marquis de Eoyancourt ! " cried Koger with exasperation. " Ah ! you mean that Marquis de Eoyancourt of yours, do you not, madame? Well, in one hour from now, your Marquis de Royancourt shall hear from me, and, 2^(1 nlieu / if, as I judged but just now, he understands neither my looks nor Avords, he will, I hope, understand actions at least." Sylvandire knew of d'Anguilhem's affair with the Kollinskis, which had made some noise in society. Besides, she had often heard of her husband's courage and skill from Crette and d'Herbigny. She was, there- fore, very much afraid of what might happen, and, darting after Roger, she stopped him as he was setting foot on the stairs to ascend to his own room for the pur- pose of changing his attire; for Roger was one of the men who perfectly comprehend that when honoring his enemy with a proposal to cut his throat, the proposition must be made in velvet coat and lace ruffles. But Sylvandire did not desire a scandal, as she had grand schemes based on Monsieur de Royancourt. She clung, then, to Roger's arm, as we have said, and sought by her tears to soften his wrath. It was the first time that Roger had seen Sylvandire Aveep. His heart was not iron; and so, in this struggle, when he should have won at least the field of battle, he lost all. That very evening, Monsieur de Royancourt played a game THE CONJUGAL IIOEIZON TEMPESTUOUS. 261 of backgammon in tlie salon with Maitre Bouteau, and Sylvandire was smiling. On the same evening, Crette, having learned of his friend's return, presented himself at the Hotel d'Anguil- hem; but Sylvandire's orders had been issued, and he was told that, while monsieur and madame had indeed returned, they were not receiving. On the morrow the marquis wrote to Roger that he should never again set foot in his house, since its door had been closed to him at an hour when he had seen in the court, at the very foot of the steps, the coach of Monsieur de Royancourt. He added that their friendship was ended forever. In despair, Roger hastened to Crette's; but he found him deeply wounded. Roger had no difficulty in persuading him that he had nothing to do with the orders given on the evening before. Sylvandire had assured him that there had been a misunderstanding, and he was absolutely determined to convince his friend on this point; but Crette yielded with difficulty and upon one condition. " Listen, chevalier," said the marquis. " That refusal was an insult, an insult given by your people, and, consequently, in the eyes of everybody, proceeding from you. Reparation must be made, therefore. Some day when my carriage is at your door. Monsieur de Royan- court must receive the same answer that was given to me. On this condition, I will overlook what has hap- pened and say no more about it. " Roger promised the marquis that it should be as he wished. He then went home and informed his wife of the agreement that he had just made with his friend. Sylvandire began to laugh. 262 SYLVANDIRE. Hut Tioger was by no means in a mood for josting, and he insisted very seriously, and pronounced, for tlie first time, the terrible words that a wife never forgets and a husband always repents, — "It is my will." Then there was a dreadful quarrel. Sylvandire showed that she was really a veritable despot, and there followed between the two a long succession of " I insist ! " and " I will not ! " "Well, if you will not," at last said Iloger, who thought to triumph by means of one of those speeches so terrible to a good woman, " well, if you will not, I shall think, madame, that you entertain very peculiar sentiments toward Monsieur de Royancourt. " " Think whatever you are pleased to think," returned Sylvandire. " If Monsieur de Royancourt does not leave my house," said Roger, "then I shall leave it; but, take heed, madame, I shall not enter it again." "As you please, monsieur. The world is wide, you are young, and travel will improve you." "Reflect, madame, I leave this moment." " Go, monsieur, I am not keeping you," was Sylvan- dire 's response. Roger had taken a false step, and he perceived it, but it was too late. Instead of discussing the subject with his wife, he should have given orders at his door, and all would have been said. He had broached polemics, and the demon of feminine skill had got the better of his simple wrath. " Well, are you still there ? " asked Sylvandire, seeing that he had stopped, stupefied at such audacity. Roger took three steps toward that shameless woman ; but a sense of his own dignity checked him. THE CONJUGAL HOKIZON TEMPESTUOUS. 263 " Breton," he said to his valet de chambre, " have my trunks and my carriage ready in an hour." Then he left the salon without Sylvandire's taking a step or saying a word to detain him, and he ascended to his room. The hour sped quickly. It was certainly the most agitated and the most sorrowful hour of lioger's life. At the slightest sound he trembled and listened, think- ing to see his wife enter, with repentance in her heart, entreaty on her lips, and tears in her eyes. He would have given ten years of his life that Sylvandire might have taken such a course. But, on the other hand, he would have given up all his life rather than make a single advance toward her. His sole virtue in such a case was obstinacy. It is much to have a strong head when one has a weak heart. The hour was spent amid such anguish and heart- beating as cannot be described, and Roger took his hat and descended to the salon. Sylvandire sat alone at her tambour embroidery. " And so the thing is decided," she said, as indiffer- ently as if she were speaking of a promenade in the Bois de Satory, " you are leaving us? " " Yes, madame, " replied Roger, amazed at her cool- ness; " and I have the honor to wish you good-day." " When shall we see you again 1 " " I shall have the honor to apprise you hereafter." " Adieu, chevalier." "Adieu, madame." And, refusing the hand extended to him by Sylvan- dire, Roger precipitately rushed down the flight of steps, sprang into his carriage, and shouted, — " Drive to the Hotel de Crette." At that name he had the satisfaction of hearing Syl- 264 SYLVANDIEE. vandire angrily shut the salon window which had re- mained half open, and behind which she was watching to see what happened. Crette sincerely pitied his friend. Roger wished to go and seek Monsieur de Royancourt, to provoke him to a duel, but Crette restrained him. " My dear fellow," he said, "you are in a false posi- tion. You have only yourself to complain of. You have brought it about. You must be patient. Watch your wife and the marquis, get possession of proof, and then, supported by your evidence, send a challenge to Monsieur de Eoyancourt. But you have seen nothing ; you know nothing. Yesterday, moreover, you received the man in your own house. Has anything new hap- pened since then? Have you anything to reproach him with since yesterday? No; he has not even entered your house. Monsieur de Royancourt will tell you that he does not know what you are talking about; that you are a visionary; and everybody will blame you, I first of all." " What is your advice, then? " " Why, bless you! go away, since you have announced that you are going on a journey. Go to Italy , Germany, England. Take a dancer, take anything, in fact, that will distract you." " I detest women ! " " Well, yes, that is understood, of course; but there is nothing to console a love like a fancy. Why, no longer than eight days ago, if it had not been for little Poussette, I should have blown out my brains or turned Trappist. Try it." " No, I am going away. I shall leave Paris. I shall go mad if I stay here." " Why do you not pay a visit to Anguilhem? " THE CONJUGAL HORIZON TEMPESTUOUS. 265 " And wliat excuse could I give for my wife's absence ? " " Pooh ! Mademoiselle Constance will not ask you for one." " Constance has forgotten me, and she has done well. Constance is married, without doubt. Ah! Constance, Constance, what a difference between you and Syl- vandire ! " " Ah! my friend, you are quite right. Nothing less resembles one woman than another woman. Well, go to England. You will get some pretty ideas on the way to reduce the sex to obedience. Our neighbors across the channel are extremely knowing on the subject. " " Faith, I have a great mind to follow your advice." Crette embraced his friend, and made no effort to comfort him. He knew perfectly well that, for such hurts, time is the only balm. Eoger Avent to England. He stayed there three months, and he saw two Englishmen that were unfortu- nate in their marriages, who led their wives to market with ropes around their necks. One sold his wife for ten guineas, and the other for seven. " Pardieii ! " exclaimed Roger. " I would give mine away for nothing, for my part! I would even pay some- thing to boot." Unfortunately Roger was not an Englishman. At the end of three months he was seized with a long- ing to return to France. As he was perfectly free and nothing hindered his doing as he pleased, he imme- diately set out for Dover and embarked. Twelve hours later he landed at Calais, having suffered greatly at sea, which had been of the roughest. As 266 SYLVANDIRE. soon as he had set foot on the wharf, he was met hy Crette's valet, who Avas himself waiting to embark. Koger recognized him. "What! you here, Basque?" he said. "What the devil are you doing here? " "Ah! mon Dleu, monsieur le chevalier," returned Basque. " It was the will of heaven that I should meet you here. I was going in search of you." " For what purpose 1 " " To carry you a letter from my master. But speak softly, if you please, monsieur le chevalier, for I fear some one is listening to us." " And who should listen, pray ? " " Everybody, monsieur, everybody. You do not know, then, what has happened over here? " " Whereabouts over here ? " "In Paris." " It is three months since I have had news." " Well , my master was questioned day before yester- day and threatened with the Bastile. " " What is that ? Crette threatened with the Bastile ? " " Yes, monsieur le chevalier, it is true." " And why the Bastile ? " " Because he challenged Monsieur de Boyancourt, who would not fight." " And you say that you have a letter for me 1 " " Yes, monsieur." " Which gives the details? " "Probably." " Then deliver the letter." " Ah, dame! monsieur, it is not an easy thing to do, seeing that it is sewed into the lining of my vest; but if monsieur will go with me to the Hotel du Dauphin — " THE CONJUGAL HORIZON TEMPESTUOUS. 267 " But why all these precautions 1 " " Monsieur will presently he informed, without douht, on reading my master's letter. When monsieur le marquis saw the police officers enter his hotel, he sus- pected something, and he at once wrote this letter to monsieur le chevalier, ordering me to conceal it care- fully, and then he said, ' Go, little Basque, and do not rest until you have found the Chevalier d'Anguilhem.' I started immediately, and here I am." " Then let us go to the Dauphin, my friend, without further delay, for I am in great haste to read that letter. " They moved off at once with long strides, and, on reaching the hotel, they ascended to a room and locked themselves in. " It is disrespectful to monsieur to remove my jacket in his presence," said Basque, " but I cannot avoid it." " Go on, and be quick about it, my lad." Basque ripped the lining of his jacket and drew forth a letter which he handed to Roger. Eoger eagerly opened it, and read as follows: — "My dear Chevalier, — This is the fourth letter that I have written to you ; the three others have undoubtedly been intercepted. Your wife has disappeared, and in spite of every effort I have been unable to discover her where- abouts. Yesterday morning, I met Monsieur de Royancourt on the Cours-la-Reine, and, as I had no doubt that he was concerned in Sylvandire's disappearance, I told him outright that he was a miscreant. Thereupon, supposing that he would answer me as a gentleman should, I drew my sword ; but I was deceived. To my great astonishment, Monsieur de Royancourt appeared not to have heard me. At the same time, I saw some officers of police approaching, and d'Herbigny carried me off. Last evening I sent Clos- Renaud and Chastellux to him to make an appointment ; 268 SYLVANDIRE. they were not received, however. This morning they have come to arrest me, it is likely. I am despatching Basque to you ; if he is so lucky as to find you, don't lose a moment, but hasten back to Paris and clear all this up." "Oh! yes," cried Eoger. "Yes, I will start for Paris." And he summoned a post-horse at once, with the fixed determination, since his wife's imprudence gave him just grounds, of slaying Monsieur de Royancourt and all his friends whom he might encounter, were there a hundred, a thousand of them; and, as one may readily believe, the speed of his journey only heated his blood. But, arrived at the Cours-la-E.eine, as the chevalier was about to enter Paris, an officer stopped his chaise while he bowed almost to the ground. Roger's first desire was to run the man through and through with his sword, and inaugurate with him the butchery that he meditated; but the officer took three steps backward, and, producing a document from his pocket, said, — "By the order of the king, Chevalier d'Anguilhem, you are commanded to deliver up your sword." An hour later the chevalier was registered at For- r^vgque. THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 269 XX. FINDING THAT PERMISSION TO LEAVE IS NOT GRANTED HIM, THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM RESOLVES TO LEAVE WITHOUT PERMISSION. A MAN struck by a thunder-bolt does not burst into tears and lamentations; on the contrary, he remains motion- less, senseless, breathless, bewildered; but, under the apparent apathy, nature acts, the connection between senses and organs, for a moment broken off, is re-estab- lished in his being, and feeling returns when he has regained strength enough to realize his condition and to endure it. Eoger, therefore, entered For-l'Ev§que like one struck by a thunder-bolt. He had not notified Basque of his determination ; he had, on the contrary, advised him to lie down, advice which Basque had gratefully taken, and while the poor devil was sleeping with clinched fists, Roger had leaped upon the post-horse and started at full speed for Paris. He had not been willing to have Basque follow him, in the first place, because the poor fellow was worn out, and next, for fear of compromising Crette. Moreover, he had at once burned the letter that lie had received from the marquis, in order that none could accuse the marquis of being concerned in his action. All that Basque had told kept running in his head, and he had no suspicion that all the spies of Maitre Voyer d'Argenson were at his heels. 270 SYLVANDIRE. AVlieii witliin ton leagues of Paris lie took a carriage; he had niado fifty leagues in fifteen hours, and he was brui.sed to a jelly. In tlie carriage he began to regain his spirits, for lie still divined nothing. The officer took it upon himself to give him a clue to the enigma in the shape of his arrest. And Iloger was astounded, as we have said. " Ah ! I am arrested, " he kept repeating to himself along the road. "Ah! I am arrested." And, at each exclamation, the olhcer bowed with great courtesy, but made no reply. The carriage turned into the court-yard of the chateau. Roger descended. A man in a coat of orange-colored velvet, with gold buttons, came forward, and indicated aloud to an officer the room assigned to INlonsieur d'Anguilhera ; he then read over in a muttering way the official report of the arrest, which had been scrawled in the carriage on the road by one of the officers, without the prisoner's having even noticed it. Then he spoke, — " Very well." And he made a sign that tlie Chevalier d'Anguilhem should be conducted to the room designated. Roger followed his guide, without speech, without sign of protest. At that moment they might have shown Roger a scaf- fold covered with black cloth, with its block and ax; they might have made him a sign to kneel at the block and bow his head to receive the fatal blow, and he would have obeyed withovit the slightest hesitation. All the adventures which were following so closely upon each other seemed to have such intimate relations that he submitted to their results without knowing the reason ; but he kept on, he went mechanically, bending his head THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 271 and accepting his ahsurd destiny, as in a dream one per- forms without hesitation and without astonishment the most monstrous follies. This is why he passed almost unconsciously, almost without seeing, from a gloomy staircase into a very hand- some gallery ; then, from the gallery he took a Avinding stairway, went up an infinite number of flights, passed along another corridor, from the corridor into a sort of himber-room and thence into a small apartment, dark but quite neat. The door closed behind him, the bolts grated, and Roger was aroused by the sound. He found himself sitting on a sort of stool ; he shook liis head, looked around him, arose and went the length of his room, which was not far. Then, moved by an instinct stronger than all others, he came to a standstill before a narrow, double-grated window through whose crossed bars a little light and air were permitted to infiltrate. Light! air! life! This poor Roger, this poor country gentleman, accus- tomed to take into his great lungs such quantities of the vital fluid, while hunting the woods and fields of Anguil- hem, was reduced to struggle for breath and a ray of light at a chink in a wall ! "We say to struggle, because the window was so narrow that a man could not put out his head. It was hewn with four sharp edges out of stones of enormous size, and two sets of bars at a distance of a foot apart crossed each other, as we have said, in the depths of the wall; then, at the outer aperture of the window, the prisoner could get a glimpse of a strip of sky against which nothing was out- lined, not even a tree, not even a weathervane. On fine days, Roger watched there for a cloud; on rainy days he watched for a bit of azure. 272 SYLVANDIRE. The situation was sad, and it M'as all the sadder that Roger had often pondered over the misfortunes that might happen to him, to the end that he miglit be pre- pared for them, but never had he dreamed of imprison- ment; hence lie was not at all prepared for it. He sat down on his stool to reflect, then he looked at the worm-eaten table over which had been thrown a piece of tapestry, then he got up and proceeded to try his bed, which was very hard; and then, at last, he went back and sat down on his stool where he gave himself up to the strangest reveries. That he was in prison was incontestable ; but who had caused him to be cast into prison, and for what reason was he imprisoned? This was the problem to be solved. No one can tell whither will wander the thouglits of a man who has nothing to do but to think ; Roger's over- ran the whole earth, and every possibility. His first and foremost belief was that he must be the victim of an error. " Perhaps, " he thought, " my father has formed a con- spiracy in the province, and I am supposed to be his agent. " Although Monsieur le Baron d'Anguilhem had been infinitely less displeased with the government of Louis XIV. since he became the heir of Monsieur de Bouzenois, his son, who had often heard him launch forth into com- plaints against Madame de Maintenon and Pere Letellier, could indulge in such a supposition without great absurd- ity. And, for the moment, this idea was almost satis- factory to Roger. " I shall prove," he thouglit, " that I have been in England for three months, that I have come directly from there, that it is eighteen months since I was last at Anguilhem, and that I have not seen my father for a THE CHEVALIER KESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 273 year. In the light of such evidence, my innocence will be apparent, and I shall be released in triuinpli." And Roger was quite tranquil for the space of half an hour. " Ah ! yes, " he began at the end of the half-hour, " but what if they think I have been in England to act in con- cert with the Prince of Orange, who has sworn eternal enmity to Louis XIV. 1 What if tliey think my journey to England was taken for tlie purpose of fomenting rebellions! In that case, I am lost!" And Roger sat plunged in despair for another half hour. " But still," he said to himself at the end of this half hour, " may not my affair liave some connection with Crette's 1 " In fact, he could not think it was because of his affair with l^rlonsieur de Royancourt that Crette had been arrested, or rather, that it was solely because of that affair. " Crette, " he told himself, " has the reputation of be- ing an enemy of the Old Woman, as he is, in fact, and he has incurred her dislike. This Royancourt must execrate him. The king is severe with respect to duel- ling ; perhaps he shut his eyes on our first affair with the Kollinskis, and spared our heads that time only for want of proof. To-day, on Crette's simple challenge they base a second offence. Yes, but for my part, I am quite innocent of that, as I was in London when the marquis challenged Monsieur de Royancourt in Paris." He then fell to thinking of his wife. " She has disappeared, " he said ; " can it be possible that they think I have murdered her?" And, at this thought, his mind dwelt no longer on anything but his wife's strange conduct toward him; and 18 274 SYLVANDIBB. then lie fell into an access of rage, for Roger, as the reader must liave perceived, was as jealous as a tiger, and it must be admitted that Sylvandire had given him some occasion for jealousy. The hour for exercise had arrived ; they came to fetch Koger. For tw^o hours daily the prisoners were allowed a promenade. The promenade took place on tlie platform. Roger found eight prisoners on the platform, eight companions of misfortune, all of greatly dilfering equip- ment and countenance. One could almost read from their faces and habiliments the dates of their incarceration. " What is the news in Paris, monsieur 1 " cried all the eight voices together, "Faith, gentlemen," answered the Chevalier d'An- guilhem, "the news of my arrest; however, as the event happened five or six hours ago, perhaps they no longer speak of it now, and are beginning to occupy themselves with something else." " Ah ! you are arrested ? " " Parbleu / you certainly see that; you are not here of your own accord, are you 1 " "No, certes." " Well, neither am I." " But why were you arrested 1 " " That is what I have been trying to discover ever since morning, and if you can tell me, you will really extricate me from a great difficulty." " What ! you do not know why you were arrested 1 " " No, — and you ? " " No more than you." " And you 1 " THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 275 " No more than you. " " And you ? " " No more than you." He found that the same question, addressed eight times to the prisoners, eight times produced the same response. Among these eight captives, not one knew the cause of his captivity, and one of them moreover had been in For-l'^veque for ten years. He was the most calm, the most resigned. Roger shuddered. He had not j'^et spent in prison as many hours as his companion had spent years. And yet he had found the time very wearisome already. " Ah ! " thought Roger, gloomily, " I am as good as dead." However, one always hopes that the fate of others, when bad, may not be one's own, so Roger asked his companions in captivity if he could speak to some of the authorities of the chateau. " You can summon the governor when you please, " was the reply. " What ! I can summon the governor ? " "Certainly." " Simply by asking for him ? " " Simply that." " Then I shall ask for him this evening. Messieurs, I bid you adieu." "Adieu! anTi why? " " Because I shall probably not have the honor of see- ing you to-morrow." " And why not ? " " If I see the governor this evening, I shall to-morrow, without doubt, be set at liberty." 276 SYLVANDIRE. " Poor fellow ! " murmured the prisoners as they shook tlieir heads. Neither exclamation nor gesture prevented Roger's returning to his room in a state of elation. His dinner was served, and he very resolutely ate the king's bread and beans. Then, toward the end of the repast, he begged the turnkey to say to the governor of For-l'J^veque that his new prisoner desired very much to speak with him. "It is too late to-night," replied the turnkey, "but monsieur le gouverneur will come to 3'ou to-morrow without fail." " You are sure of it, my friend 1 " " I am sure of it." " To-morrow, then, " said Roger, gathering patience as he reflected that a night is soon past. And he went and sat down on his stool to watch through the bars of his w^indow the last gleam of day. He sat there, gazing at the sky and lost in meditation, when it seemed to him that he heard a slight noise close at hand. He lowered his eyes to the floor and discovered a mouse nibbling the crumbs that had fallen. Roger hated mice. He seized his hat and flung it at the poor little creature, which scampered away in terror and crept under the door into the large room adjoining, where she had, in all probability, taken up her abode. For a moment, Roger was greatly disturbed at thought of the intruders that might come to pay him a visit during the night. In consequence, as long as there was a ray of light in the room, he sat with his eyes fixed upon that little aperture. Then, when night was closing in, he took the cork from his bottle which still remained on the table, and, thanks to this mate- THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 277 rial obstacle to a second visit, he remained quite at ease. However, three or four times he awoke Avith a start, thinking always that he felt the little paws running over his face and hands; but, each time he managed to con- vince himself that there was no living creature in the room besides himself. But such was not the case with the neighboring room, which seemed to be the rendezvous of all the cats, rats, and mice in the chateau. In spite of all this Roger passed a good night : he hoped. At noon of the next day, an hour that seemed a long time in coming, an unusual noise sounded in the corridor. Soldiers were presenting arms, steps were approaching Roger's door, a key turned in the lock, the door opened, and the governor entered. He was a tall, spare man, whose lips scarcely moved when he spoke, and whose eyes said absolutely nothing. He held his hat in his hand, probably that he need not remove it upon entering. " Monsieur le gouverneur, " said Roger, springing to meet him, " I am the Chevalier Roger d'Anguilhem." " I know it, monsieur, " replied the governor, with an almost imperceptible movement of the lips. " You know it 1 " demanded the chevalier in astonish- ment. The governor bowed. " Well, as you know who I am, monsieur le gouver- neur, I should like — " " Have you any fault to find with the regimen of the house, monsieur le chevalier ? " " No, not yet, monsieur. Besides, I have not had time to learn very precisely what it is ; but I should like to know — " 278 SYLVANDIRE. " Is there anything that you lack, monsieur le cheva- lier?" " Nothing, just at present; but can I know — " " Have any of the servants of the chateau been wanting in civility, monsieur le chevalier ? " " No, monsieur. I have even remarked the politeness of those who serve me." " In that case, monsieur le chevalier, since you have nothing to complain of, permit me to retire." " Pardon me, monsieur, pardon me. I complain of being in prison." " Ah ! that does not concern me, " returned the governor. " But, tell me, why am I here 1 " " You must know better than I, monsieur le chevalier." " Better than you ! Why so 1 " " Because it concerns you, while, as I have had the honor of telling you, it does not concern me, and I meddle only with my own affairs." " But you must know — " " I know nothing, monsieur." " But you can guess — " " I guess at nothing, monsieur. The king sends me a prisoner, I enter him in the register, I lodge him, I see that he wants for nothing so long as he is my boarder. It is my duty, and I discharge it scrupulously." " But the king may be deceived. " " The king is never deceived." " But the king may be wrong." " The king is never wrong." " Nevertheless, I swear that I have done nothing at all." " Monsieur, excuse me from listening to you longer." "Monsieur, I protest that I am innocent." THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 279 " jMonsieur, permit me to retire." " But tell me, at least, if I shall remain here long, — yes or no? Monsieur, I implore you." " As long as it shall please the king." " Ah ! that will do, " cried Roger, " you drive me mad." " I am your humble servant, monsieur." And the governor saluted Roger, and withdrew, hat in hand, and attended by his guards. This time the door closed, it seemed to Roger, with a sinister sound. Only then did he feel himself a prisoner. He sank upon his bench, and then his eyes, fixed and mournful, settled on that door, and, after a little time, filled with tears. Roger thought of his parents, his friends, his God. And then all the tales of captivity, more terrible at that period than at any other, came into his head : Bas- sompierre, for ten years a prisoner of the Bastile ; Lauzun, held thirteen years at Pignerol; Fouquet, alive or dead, none knew where. He saw passing, one after the other, before him all those gentlemen who had been spirited away by night, and had disappeared. There were Mat- tioli, the Man of the Iron Mask, and that man even whom he had seen the night before, and who had been there ten years. True, all these men had committed some offence: Bassompierre had essayed to strive against Richelieu ; Lauzun had compromised a granddaughter of Henry IV. ; Fouquet had dared vie with Louis XIV. in luxury; Mattioli had betrayed a state secret; the Iron Mask was a political enigma. But in vain did he, Roger, rack his memory, qviestion his past, scrutinize every day of his life ; there was no crime, no misdemeanor, no im- prudence even, with which to reproach himself, while all the world knew of the wrongdoing of those whose remem- brance arose in his mind. 280 SYLVANDIRE. Yet the world did not know what tliat man had done who had spoken to hitii the night hefore, whose name, even, he did not know, and wlio had heen there ten years. Ten years ! But did tlie man, then, have no relatives to solicit his pardon, or friends to take the proper steps with the ministers? Was the man quite obscure, then? Yet, if he was obscure, why had he been ten years in ror-l':^veque ? This question harassed Roger greatly for an hour or two; then he returned to the charge, and he made out such an excellent case for himself, that by degrees the feeling of security inspired by his innocence began to regain the upper hand, and all his gloomy thoughts were dissipated. At the hour for exercise, Roger was taken out as on the preceding day ; he was led to the esplanade, where, as on the preceding day, he found his eight companions. He went up to the one who had been there ten years and asked his name. " I am the Comte d'Olibarus, " responded the latter. Roger searched his memory ; that name was quite un- known to him. " And what is the cause of your being here ? Come, comte, just between ourselves, tell me that." " I can only repeat what I have already told you, mon- sieur, — I know nothing about it." " You know nothing about it 1 " " Nothing, monsieur. " "But," said Roger, lowering his voice, "during the ten years of your imprisonment have you made no at- tempt to escape 1 " The Comte d'Olibarus gazed steadily at Roger, and turned his back upon him without replying. He took liim for a spy. THE CHEVALIER RESOLVES TO LEAVE PRISON. 281 *'Pardleu!" muttered Roger to himself. "If T had been here ten years, I think I should have tried ten times to escape." Then he added, still to himself, — " Stop, stop, stop ! although I have not been here ten years, why should I not try to get away, just the same ? " This reflection made, Roger drew near to his compan- ions; but they all scattered from his path as if he had been the plague. The Comte d'Olibarus had communicated to them his suspicions, and the confidence bore its fruit. Roger was unable, therefore, to exchange a word with his fellow-prisoners, which put him into a very bad humor, and confirmed him in his mental determination to quit For-1'Eveque as soon as possible. He resolved, then, to give the king eight days, reck- oning from that moment, in which to repair the injustice which had been committed against himself, and if, at the end of those eight days, the injustice were not repaired, to bend all the faculties of his mind to one single idea : — Escape ! 282 SYLVANDIRE. XXI. HOW THE KING NEGLECTED TO REPAIR THE INJUS- TICE DONE THE CHEVALIER d'aNGUILHEM AND WHAT FOLLOWED. Under similar, although less important circumstances, we have already seen Roger at work. His resolution once taken, the reader knows with what persistence he sets 'about its accomplishment. Eight days passed away, during which time Roger would have thought himself lacking in the confidence due to His Majesty, had he thought the least in the world of a project to be executed only in case of neglect. A thousand ideas presented themselves to his mind, all relating to flight, but he courageously repressed them. During the eight days time did not pass very heavily, although his companions of the terrace continued to shun him. Hope was always at his side, and every time his door opened he thought that the king, attacked by remorse, was about to repair his error. The king probably had something else than remorse on hand. He therefore did not relent, and the eight days ran away without reparation of the wrong com- mitted against the Chevalier d'Anguilhem. The last minute of the last hour of the last day ex- pired, and Roger returned seriously to his project. He began by examining his prison. There were, — An oak door three inches thick. A window with double grating. Walls four feet through. Louis Xiy. TIIR KING DOES NOT REPAIR THE INJUSTICE. 283 That was the sura of his discoveries. It left him no great degree of hope. Eoger shook the door. Two locks and two bolts were answerable for its security. Roger tried the bars at the window. They were deeply imbedded in the masonry. Eoger sounded the walls. They everywhere gave back a dull sound indicating that they were perfectly solid. It would have taken a crowbar to pry the door open. It would have taken a file to cut the bars of the window. It would have taken a pickaxe to dig a hole in the walls of that room. Eoger had none of them. But he had the intelligence of a man bred in the country, and vised to extricating himself from the thou- sand and one little embarrassments of life. He had the patience of the prisoner pursuing for hours, days, years, the prisoner's one and only thought, — deliverance. He examined the interior. He would examine the exterior. According to the custom, they came to take him out for the promenade. On leaving his little room, he crossed the large chamber which preceded it, and in which all the cats and rats of the vicinity continued every night to congregate for sport. It was a sort of store-room with one ungrated window, opening Eoger knew not where, for he was not alloAved to go near the window, and for his part, he took good care not to ask permission to do so. This store-room was filled with old mattresses, bed-covers, curtains of serge, and chests. One would have said it was tho shop of a retail upholsterer. 284 SYLVANDIRE. One can understand why cats, rats, and mice enjoyed a room like that. Roger had to follow a long corridor. This corridor was closed by two doors, one opening into the room in front of his own, and the other upon a winding staircase leading to the platform. These two doors were carefully bolted. A sentinel paced up and down the space between them. This time Koger made no attempt to engage in con- versation witli his companions in captivity. His plan appealed to him, and to it he applied his thought. Koger spent the two hours in waiting for the time to come for bim to re-enter bis prison. It was useless to think of escaping by way of tlie platform, as there would be two doors to beat down and a sentinel to overcome. All his hopes, therefore, were centred on the store- room. Hence, on re-entering, Roger observed it with greater attention than he had yet bestowed upon it. The sounds that reached him from the window indicated that it overlooked the street. There was plenty of cloth in the bed-ticking and blankets for making a rope. Everything was to be hoped for, then, from the store- room. Roger went into his room, and the door was shut upon him with its double lock and double bolts. The prisoner's mind was centred iipon one idea, — that his escape, if it were possible, could be accomplished only through the store-room. Roger was separated from liberty only by a door. But what a door ! A wall of oak three inches thick fitted into a wall of stone ! Not a screw, not a nail, was on the side toward Roger's cell. All the work of construction was on the outside. Consequently, there was no chance to unscrew THE KING DOES NOT REPAIK THE INJUSTICE. 285 bolts or locks even with the proper tool with which to do it. But the tool, — he had not even that. Supper was brouglit to the prisoner. He cast a long look through the open doorway and heard the cries of passing street- venders. Koger ate his supper. Then, supper over, he threw himself upon his bed. After a while he heard a slight sound. He craned his neck and saw the little mouse, which, reassured by the stillness, ventured to come and eat again of the crumbs from his table. This time Roger was quite astonished that he felt none of his former dread of the rodent species. This little animal coming to visit the prisoner and petitioning to be allowed to live from his superfluity already inspired him with more of interest than of repugnance. Besides, Roger began to suffer ennui, and the visitor promised diversion. And so, in his pride, he wished to address to it some words of encouragement, convinced that the mouse Avas waiting only for those few words to come, full of grati- tude for the honor paid him; but the mouse, having, on the contrary, ventured into the room only on the conviction that its enemy was not there, had scarcely heard the chevalier's voice before it disappeared like a flasli. Having railed against the injustice of man, Roger now railed against the ingratitude of mice. Then night came. Roger undressed and went to bed. As it was against the regulations to give prisoners a light, the prisoners Avent to bed at sunset. Unfortunately for Roger, he had, since leaving d'Anguilhem, lost the habit of going to bed early. On 286 SYLVANDIRE. the contrary, during his visit to Paris, he had contracted tliat of sitting up very late. That was the epoch of little suppca-s, and lloger went to bed only about two o'clock in the morning. Besides, when he used to retire at eight o'clock in the evening, at Anguilhem, it was after a hard day spent in hunting, riding, or fen- cing. In that life, physical weariness very quickly invited sleep; but in prison it was a very different thing. The turgid stream that boiled in his veins had now no outlet of escape. The blood rushed to the prisoner's head. His arteries throbbed as if he had a fever. He closed his eyes, and fell into the sort of somnolence which is neither waking nor sleeping. And then the most extraordinary visions would pass before his eyes. This night wore on as he turned and tossed. Then, at about two o'clock in the morning, he fell into a leaden sleep, into which, after a time, crept troubled dreams. He grew wings like a bird and flew away through the window. He turned into a mouse and slipped out under the door. Then just as he was running along the gutters, or traversing the skyey plains, feet or wings would suddenly fail, and he v/ould find himself whirling down through infinite depths, to awake before reaching the bottom , his heart bounding, his lungs panting, and his forehead dripping with perspiration. From then until daylight there was no going to sleep again. With the sun's first ray, Eoger sprang out of bed. Forthwith he began to prowl around his cell like a bear in a cage, examining window and walls, but always ending by halting in front of the door. That accursed door, which wanted only the inscription of despair to resemble that of the infernal regions! THE KING DOES NOT REPAIR THE INJUSTICE. 287 It was certainly through that door that he would have to pass. Roger's morning meal was brought. He ate rapidly, scattering as much bread as possible on the floor, throw- ing crumbs as far as the door, and stationed himself on his stool in the corner farthest from the door. Thanks to all these preparations, he very soon saw his neighbor's sharp nose. In spite of the impunity with which she had invaded the room on the night before, and of Roger's encourage- ment, the little creature hesitated long before venturing further. She withdrew her nose, put it back, again withdrew it; but at last attracted by the crumbs strewn over the boards, and especially by Roger's immovability, she darted into the room, stopping suddenly as if fright- ened at her own hardihood; but soon, reassured by her apparent safety, she began to nibble at the crumbs with a multitude of little grimaces, skips, and antics which greatly amused Roger. Roger Avould never have be- lieved that a mouse could be so diverting. Unfortunately, Roger, who had sat as motionless as a statue, felt himself seized by a cramp in the leg, and made a movement so abrupt that the mouse took to flight. On the instant Roger reflected that under either of two conditions he could do as the mouse had just done. First, if he were the size of the hole; second, if the hole were the size of him. It was evident that only one of the two conditions was among the possibilities. This proposition being thoroughly demonstrated to Roger, since its meaning was, as we have said, perfectly evident, he put to himself the following question, — " How can a hole be made in wood 1 " 288 SYLVANDIRE. And Im answorod, — " In two ways: with iron and with fire." To procure an iron implement was impossible. To obtain fire was difficult merely. Roger arrived at this conclusion, — " I must have fire. " Unhappily there was no excuse for complaining of cold. It was midsummer, and Roger well knew that he would never have patience to wait for winter. And besides, between this time and that the governor might take it into his head to change his room. Roger then began to study the ways and means of procuring fire. That very evening his plan was decided upon. At nine o'clock the sentinel on duty in the corridor heard groaning. He listened at each end of the pas- sage alternately, and was satisfied that the groaning issued from Roger's room. At ten o'clock, when the first round was passing, the sentinel communicated his observations to the officer in command. The officer approached the door and satis- fied himself as to the truth of the sentinel's report. Moans and groans were issuing from Roger's room, and, as Roger was alone on that side, there could be no mistake about it. It was he that was doing the groaning and moaning. A turnkey was called. The turnkey came, opened Roger's door, and found the prisoner extended upon his bed and complaining of horrible pains in his stomach. The resident physician was summoned. He came, and ordered an infusion of linden-leaves for the sick man, tea not having been dis- covered at that date. The next morning Roger kept his bed, still complain- THE KING DOES NOT KEPAIR THE INJUSTICE. 289 ing of pains which, he said, resembled burning. About two o'clock, nevertheless, he ate some soup brought to him from the governor's own table. But the soup swallowed, the groaning recommenced. The doctor ascended again, and Koger informed the doctor that he knew they meant to poison him. The doctor immediately administered antidotes; but, as he had suspected, he found not an atom of any poison- ous substance in what the prisoner had eaten. Roger nevertheless persisted in representing himself as a victim of poison, and he declared that he would die of hunger rather than eat any food from that moment that had not been prepared by himself. The remainder of the day Roger kept his word. He did not touch his supper, which the warden found intact on taking him his breakfast the next morning. At the hour of exercise Roger asked to be let out; but he was told that the hour had been changed. It was feared that if Roger found himself on the platform with the other prisoners, he might complain to them of having been poisoned, and that the calumny might be received by his comrades as truth. They did not come for him, therefore, until about five o'clock. Roger had not eaten since noon of the day before. He was very pale and apparently suffered much. He was unable to continue standing on the platform, and they were obliged to bring him a chair. He remained seated all the time. On returning through the store-room which led to his own room, he felt ill, but did not faint quite away. Then, in weakened tones, he asked for air, and was led to the window. Roger put his head outside of the dormer, and he saw that the opening overlooked the Quai de la Vallee-de- 19 290 SYLVANDIRE. Misero. A distance of sixty feet, at the least, separated him from the ground, and, as all the other windows in the stories below wore furnished with iron bar^, he saw beneath him a forest of gratings, wliose points were iijiturned toward him. Roger shuddered at the sight, which circumstance his warden naturally set down to his illness; but Koger decided nevertheless that he would escape by tliat route. Again in his room, Roger persisted in refusing every form of nourishment, continuing to declare that he would much rather die of hunger than of poison. Such an accusation was too grave not to disturb the governor. So the next morning at breakfast-time, he presented himself at his boarder's room. He found the supper just as it had been left the night before. It was almost fifty hours since Roger had eaten. Hence Roger was very weak and greatly changed. The governor entered the most reassuring protests, offer- ing to taste in his presence everything that was brought to him; but Roger steadily refused to eat, saying that such a demonstration would prove notliing, since the governor, either before or after eating, could take some antidote and thus neutralize the effect of the poison. The governor Avas very much perplexed. He had not been told the cause of the Chevalier d'Anguilhem's im- prisonment. It might be for a trivial offence, or it might be for a serious one, and, in either case, the king might at any time wish to have his prisoner produced alive, Avhether to set him free or to punish him. He therefore asked Roger what he desired, promising him to do all that he was able to satisfy him, if, however, the desire came within his power. Roger renewed the request that he had already made, that is, that he might himself prepare his own food. THE KING DOES NOT REPAIE THE INJUSTICE. 291 Otherwise, he declared that he had suffered so much from the two poisonings to which he liad been subjected that he was ready to let himself perish of hunger. As, upon the whole, the governor saw no great harm in doing what Eoger asked, he granted his request. In the meantime, as Roger was very weak, they sent him up two eggs so newly-laid that they were yet Avarm, and a bottle of Bordeaux wine. As the eggs had no visible crack, as the bottle of Bor- deaux seemed to have been corked a long time, and as the seal upon it was perfectly intact, Roger made no difficulty about swallowing the two eggs and drinking a glass of wine. Needless to say, the prisoner experienced no indispo- sition after taking this light repast. But, light as it was, it somewhat restored Roger's strength, Roger, who was little used to observing fasts, had suffered terribly from this one which had been self- imposed, and, had the governor not so obligingly extri- cated him from his predicament, he might perhaps have lacked courage to play much longer the comedy that he had planned. At last he had gained his end. They brought him a chafing-dish, a pair of bellows, some embers, a few plates, a few earthen saucepans, and then eggs, vege- tables, and butter. Besides there was a great urn full of water. Roger was a hunter, which means that more than once when coursing the Anguilhem estate, or neighboring territory, he had had occasion to prepare his own dinner. He Avas therefore not at all embarrassed when it became a question of putting to use the utensils that had been "brought him; and, whether fasting had prepared him to enjoy the meal, or whether indeed his ideas of the culi- 292 SYLVANDIRE. nary art were instinctive or acquiref], — or, as says lirillat-Savarin of gastronomic fame, whether he had become a cook or was born a chef, — he did ample justice to the dinner prepared by himself. Dnring the night following this meal no groans dis- turbed the sentinel, who, moreover, was reputed to have a very acute ear. Also, on that night, Roger, suspect- ing that the strictest watchfulness had been enjoined, was content to go to sleep, and he slept even more soundly, it is probable, than he had done at any time since entering the prison. The next morning the governor came in person to inform himself concerning his prisoner's health. He found him risen, and engaged in preparing his break- fast. These promising conditions exempted the gov- ernor from a prolonged interview. He contented him- self, therefore, with asking Roger about his health, and receiving thanks for his favors. He then took his leave with the same vacant look, the same immobility of the lips that the prisoner had remarked in his host at the time of the first visit that he had received from him. At five o'clock they came to take Roger for his cus- tomary exercise. The measure adopted by the governor, of allowing him no communication with the other pris- oners, was still enforced. Roger walked alone, then, and meditated on his plan, which he had decided to put into operation the following night. The remainder of the afternoon and all the next day passed without event. Nothing occurred to change the plan as decided upon. The auguries were neither good nor bad. There was neither comet nor eclipse of the sun. Roger therefore experienced not even a moment of indecision. THE KING DOES NOT REPAIR THE INJUSTICE. 293 A stout heart, moreover, was Roger's ordinarily, as we have said, and one especially unyielding in carrying out his resolutions. Yet it was with beating heart that he saw night arrive. But, we hasten to add, his emotion did not arise from the dangers to which he was about to expose himself, but from the fear that some unforeseen circum- stance might prevent his escape. Nevertheless, he dined at his usual hour, and with his ordinary appetite, and when his room was visited, as usual, at about eight o'clock in the evening, he was found already in bed and quite settled for the night. There were two hours to wait. The first round was made at ten o'clock in the evening, and the second at three o'clock in the morning. Now, it occasionally happened, rarely it is true, but it had already happened twice since Roger had been in For-l'Eveque, that the officer caused the doors of the cells to be opened, and scru- tinized the walls and the bars to assure himself that the prisoners were meditating no attempt at escape. Hence Roger could not act upon his plans before ten o'clock. And Roger did well to wait. For, at the usual hour, the steps of the patrol began to be heard, then the steps drew nearer, then the store-room door was opened, then that of Roger's room. Roger feared for a moment that all was discovered; but he immediately reflected that the thing was impossible, since no preparations had been made in advance that could betray him, nor had he any confidant who could denounce him. He thereupon com- posed his countenance, and appeared to have been aroused from the deepest slumber. As Roger had supposed, it was merely a precautionary measure, and, after sounding the walls, shaking the bars, and scrutinizing the door, the officer went out saying, — 294 SYLVANDIRE. " Very well ! " The prisoner sat up in his bed, listening to the sound of the retreating footsteps. Then, wlien every noise, every sound, every echo had died away in the prison depths, he cautiously got out of bed, walking with bare feet. He went to the door and listened. All was quiet, all was silent. He breathed again. In an instant Roger was dressed. Having been arrested just as he was, since Basque was to bring his trunks, which, setting off at a moment's notice, he had been unable to take with him, Roger had succeeded in having some shirts made and some hand- kerchiefs bought. From the chest, then, in which his linen was kept, he began to take everything that could be twisted into rope or woven into strands, to form, in short, a substitute for a ladder. Then he laid it all on his bed, and, to lose no time, he heaped against the door a pile of charcoal which he lighted. After that he returned to his ladder. First, the sheets and coverlets of the bed were used. Next, at the end of the sheets and coverlets, torn into strips, he knotted the twisted shirts and braided hand- kerchiefs. During all this time the coal was burning, and, in order not to be asphyxiated, Roger was obliged to go to the window every five minutes for air. The night was pitch-dark, and such as was needed for a plan as hazardous as Roger's. Meanwhile, the coal, converted into embers, accom- plished its work. A horrible smoke ensued; but, for- tunately, the wind blew in at the window from the quay, so that all smoke was driven back into the room of the prisoner, whom it would certainly have suffocated, had he not, as we have said , thrust his face between the bars of the window from time to time. THE KING DOES NOT REPAIR THE INJUSTICE. 295 Eoger heard eleven o'clock strike, and half-past eleven. At last, toward midnight, the hole made in the door, and shaped like the mouth of an oven, seemed to him large enough to pass through. He extinguished the fire with water, cleared away the dead emhers, enlarged the opening still more by breaking out portions of the charred wood, and then he lay down on his back, and, with the part of the rope already prepared in his hand, he crawled through like a snake, and a moment later found himself in the store-room. Here he was able to breathe more freely. Then he went and listened at the door of the corridor, where he heard the slow, measured tread of the sentinel. All was going well. He then proceeded to grope his way toward the place where, when passing through, he had seen a heap of blankets, and to the rope already made he began to add the strips which he noiselessly tore off, and by the aid of which he thought to give his perilous ladder a length sufficient to carry him to the ground. The rope completed, he looked about for a place to which it could be fastened; but the window presented no brace strong enough to risk his life upon it. He remembered then that his bed had four posts, originally designed to carry a tester now wanting. He returned to his room by the same route that he had come out, un- screwed one of the four posts, transferred it to the store- room, tied the rope to the middle of the post, placed the post across the window in such a way that it was per- fectly secure. Then, recommending his soul to God, murmuring the names of his father and mother, and giving a last thought to Constance, he crept backward through the window, and, clutching the rope with both hands and knees, he began his slow and perilous descent 296 SYLVANDIRE. into tho al)3'ss, down which tlie morning hcfore, he liad been unable to look without a shudder. As we have said, tlie distance between the window and tho ground was more tlian sixty feet. In addition to the courage required for undertaking this task, mar- vellous skill and strength were needed for its execu- tion. But Roger was strong and agile. He did not hiirry himself in any way. Kot one of his movements was quicker than another. At every knot, he paused a moment to rest, using his feet to clear himself from the sharp bars of the windows. He counted thus three stories that he had passed. Then, suddenly, he felt nothing more between his knees; he searched in vain. He had come to the end of the rope. He groped about with his feet for some support, but he found nothing. He tried to penetrate the gloom around him, but tho night was so black that he could see nothing. It might have been a bottomless abyss. For an instant he thought of climbing back and adding new strips of linen to those he had knotted together, but he felt that his strength would desert him before he had gone half-way. Then a cold sweat overspread his forehead. He was as likely to be twenty feet as two feet from the ground. He knew that it had become a question of good luck or bad luck, that his life was in tlie hands of fate. He lowered himself to the very end of the rope. Then, murmuring a few words of prayer, he abandoned him- self to his fate and let go the rope. Almost instantly a half-stifled cry of pain reached the sentinel, and he gave the alarm. The people ran out with torches, and discovered Roger, who had fainted away, caught on the top of an iron bar whose point had pierced his thigh. THE KIlN^G AT LAST KEMEMBEES THE CHEVALIER. 297 XXII. HOW THE KING AT LAST KEMEMBEKS THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM, and WHAT COMES OF IT. When Roger came to himself he was in a strange room. A doctor was at his side, and he was in a better and cleaner bed than prison beds are wont to be, hence for an instant he thought he was free; but, unfortunately for the chevalier, such was not the case. The governor had caused him to be transferred for the time being to a room of his own suite. The wound was severe without being dangerous, although Roger was very weak, owing to the loss of an enormous quantity of blood. His first thought was to discover whether he could not profit by the accident itself to attempt a second escape. On a pretext of needing air, he begged the physician to open the window; like the other windows of For-l'Eveque, the window was pro- vided with a grating on the outside. When the surgeon took his leave, charging Roger to rest, Roger heard the door secured behind him with double fastenings. Roger was in a prison, a trifle more commodious, a trifle more elegant, but it was still a prison. The next morning, the governor in person came to pay him a visit, and to learn directly from himself the reasons that had induced him to attempt so perilous an escape; he desired, he said, to be assured that it had been neither the fare, which was rather frugal, perhaps, nor the rules of the house, somewhat strict, it might be, that had led him to the desperate act. Roger replied that neither 298 SYLVANDIRE. had been tlie cause. He knew tliat people were as well oil" in Fur-rEveque as they could be in any prison, and only his desire to regain the liberty that he had not deserved to lose had brought him to that extremity. The governor entreated him to sign a declaration to that effect, which, he said, would constitute his own defence with the authorities. Roger instantly complied with his request. Indeed, Roger saw a ray of hope in that very declara- tion. In his simplicity of soul, the poor boy still believed himself the victim of a mistake, which, one day or another, could not fail to be recognized. Now, one means of gaining recognition was, in his opinion, to bring his name as speedily as possible before the eyes of the authorities, and in any manner whatever. This simple circumstance gave Roger fresh courage. So little it takes to buoy up the hopes of even those who should despair! He waited, then, with more patience than he Avould have done but for this incident, and his wound progressed favorably. At the end of eight days Roger sat up, and at the end of fifteen he began to be able to walk unaided about his room. In the meantime, the governor had visited him three times, and, on each occasion, Roger had asked the governor if he were quite sure that his declara- tion had come to the eyes of the minister of police. At his first inquiry, and at the second, tlie governor had replied that he hoped so; but the third time, he was able to assure the prisoner that it was so, since, as a reward for the active surveillance which he had displayed on that occasion, he had just been made a chevalier of Saint Louis. The prisoner congratulated the governor very sincerely on the favor just shown him by the king, nor did he THE KING AT LAST REMEMBEKS THE CHEVALIER. 299 doubt that, following upon the inquiry that must be made regarding his own accident, he himself would soon be set at liberty. There were even moments when he thought that his release could not fail to be marked likewise by a favor from His Majesty; the king, in his opinion, was too just to allow such injustice to pass without reparation. However, it is due to Roger to say that he did not dwell upon this idea of extreme justice except in moments of optimism, which he himself regarded as somewhat exag- gerated after they had vanished. However, more than fifteen days had passed since the elfort to escape which we have just chronicled, the chevalier improving more and more, when the governor one night entered his room. " Monsieur le Chevalier d'Anguilhem, " he said, in his usual tone of voice, and without Roger's being able to catch his roving glance, " rise and dress yourself." " Rise and dress myself ? " repeated Roger. " Yes, monsieur; we are to part," " Ah ! " exclaimed Roger, " I knew indeed that, sooner or later, my innocence would be established." The governor made no reply. " Monsieur le gouverneur, " said Roger, while hastily dressing, " trust me, if I am questioned with regard to you, I shall endeavor, as I have already done, to render justice to your excellent treatment of me." The governor bowed without other response. " And if either I or my friends can render you any service, I shall seize the opportunity, not only Avith eagerness but also with gratitude." The governor stammered a few unintelligible words. " But, " continued Roger, " I am still too weak to go on foot. Will you have the kindness, monsieur le gouver- neur, to have a carriage called 1 " 300 SYLVANDIRE. " There is one at the door. " " Then, mcany thanks, monsieur le gouverneur. I will not ask for the pleasure of seeing you again at your house, but at mine, the old Hotel Bouzenois, Place Louis-le- Grand." The governor again bowed witliout speaking; how- ever, as the chevalier was now ready, he paid little atten- tion to tlie fact, but extended his hand to tlie governor, and, leaning on the arm of a soldier, he took his departure. The chevalier advanced to the door through a double line of guards; at the door, he saw in fact a carriage awaiting him, and he turned to bow to the governor a last time, but the governor had remained behind. Roger sprang into the carriage very lightly for a wounded man, and as they were shutting the door, cried in joyful tones, — " Place Louis-le-Grand, H6tel Bouzenois. " It seemed to him that a burst of laughter greeted his direction, but giving it no thouglit, he extended his wounded leg on the seat in front of him, and leaned back in a corner of his carriage. After a while, he observed two musketeers galloping on either side of the carriage. The excessive honor shown him by His Majesty in sending him home with an escort, began to disturb Roger. Then, instead of descending the quay, the carriage seemed to be crossing La Cite ; this was by no manner of means the route to the Place Louis-le-Grand. Roger, therefore, approached the window and ques- tioned the guards ; but doubtless the noise of the carriage- wheels and the clatter of the horses' hoofs on the pave- ment prevented their hearing him, for in vain did he reiterate his questions; they won no responses. THE KING AT LAST KEMEMBEES THE CHEVALIEK. 301 At last, after bowling along for nearly a quarter of an hour, Roger distinguished a great isolated building. He put his head outside the window, fixed his eyes on that black mass carved out of the darkness, and, to his infinite terror, he recognized the Bastile. What Eoger had taken for a release was merely a transference ; and the favor that the king had done him was to take him from For-l'Eveque to place him in the Bastile. Under the archway, Roger was required to descend and be searched, as was usual with prisoners that were brought to the Bastile. Then he was taken over the bridge and the door of the guard-house was opened. He was to wait there until his room Avas ready. Roger was so stunned that he made no movement, offered no word. They came for him at the end of a quarter of an hour. One of the musketeers that had escorted his carriage offered him his arm to lean upon. Roger let himself be led like a condemned man that is taken to the scaffold. However, in passing through a very dark corridor, he felt his guide slip a little note into his hand. He trembled. " From the Marquis de Crette," whispered the musketeer. Roger was about to speak, but the musketeer at the same moment gave place to a comrade and disappeared. The prisoner had just been searched, and consequently he had nothing to fear on that score. He put his hand into his pocket and dropped the note into it. Then he rested his hand on the shoulder of his new guide. They soon came to a staircase. Doubtless they had taken into consideration the prisoner's wound, for he was made to ascend to the second floor only. Arrived there, a door was opened, then a second, then a third, and Roger found 302 SYLVANDIRE. himself in a room wliere, by the light of the torches fol- lowing him, he saw something like a hed. Almost 'immediately, the door of the cell was closed. He heard the locks and bolts of the other doors grate in turn. He was again a prisoner. As he was very tired and his leg was giving him great pain, he took his bearings for the purpose of finding his bed, and turned in the direction in which he supposed it must be. He found it in fact; but just as he was sitting down upon it, a voice said, — " Monsieur, may I ask what you desire ? " " Pardon, monsieur, " cried Roger, rising, " I did not know that the bed was occupied." " It is, monsieur, as you perceive," returned the voice; " and as mine is the right of priority, allow me to keep it." " Why, that is very proper, monsieur," replied Roger; " but since, in your capacity of pioneer, you doubtless know the premises better than I, kindly tell me whether there is a chair, a bench, a stool, a seat of any kind, in short, on which I can sit. I am wounded in the thigh, and I feel that if I am kept standing any longer I may faint away." " Search around, monsieur, " answered the voice ; " there ought to be an arm-chair somewhere." Roger searched about, with his hands outstretched like a man playing blind-man's buff, and he at last came in contact with the arm-chair. He sank into it and began to reflect. In the first place, at the sound of that voice, it seemed to him that he had heard it somewhere, but he could not tell where. In vain he sought to apply it to some one of his acquaintances. His mind became more and more confused. Then he thought that a better way to con- THE KING AT LAST REMEMBERS THE CHEVALIER. 303 duct liis reseai'cli would be frankly to ask his fellow- prisoner who he was. " Monsieur, " said Koger, " when people are destined, as I fear we are, to live for some time in the same room, the best thing to do is promptly to form acquaint- ance, that we may know whom we have the honor to address." " But who are you yourself ? " said the voice. " I am Roger Tancrede d'Anguilhera, — a prisoner by mistake," said Roger; "and you are right, it is quite proper that I should give my name first. And now, who are you 1 " "I, monsieur, am number 158." " What does that mean, — number 158 1 " " It is the designation that has taken the place of my name and title. To-morrow, you will no longer be called the Chevalier d'Anguilhem; you will be number 159, or 160, or 161." Roger groaned at the thought that, having lost his liberty, he was about to lose his name, and, having been a man, he was to become a number. " Have you been here long enough to forget your other name 1 " " No ; but I might be punished, perhaps, if I remem- bered it," said the voice. " Diahle I you are cautious ! " exclaimed Roger. " When you have been, like me, ten years, three months, and five days under lock and key, " returned the voice, " it is, I promise you, a virtue that you yourself will practise." " Ten years ! " cried Roger, " ten years, three months, and five days ! I would ten times rather dash my brains out against these walls." " Monsieur, " said the voice, " you will not take it amiss if I no longer answer you." 304 * SYLVANDIRE. " And wliy not, pray 1 " " Because our great king, Louis XIV., whom God preserve, is indeed our master, to call us by what name and number he pleases, and to keep us in his chateau as long as it suits him." " Oh, to be sure, I know you," cried Roger; "your very caution has betrayed you — you are the Comte d'Olibarus! " " I am not the Comte d'Olibarus," cried tlie voice; " I am number 158." Just then, steps were heard in the corridor. " Ah ! you have undone me ! " cried the poor count, " and this is the second time. The first time, you spoke to me on the terrace of For-l'^veque, and as it was found that you meant to escape, I was believed to be your accomplice and was brought here. You have just spoken to me the second time, and I shall be placed in some dungeon, which I shall never leave." The outer door was heard to open. " But, monsieur le comte — " began Roger. " Silence ! monsieur, in heaven's name, silence! Keep still, not a word; I do not knoAV you; I have never spoken to you; I have never seen you." And Comte d'Olibarus muffled himself up in his blankets, and turned his nose to the wall. The poor prisoner was mistaken in his gloomy fore- bodings ; they were coming merely to set up a cot for his cell-mate. This attention gave great satisfaction to Roger, who would momentarily have been reconciled to his situa- tion, had he been able to read Crette's note, which he kept fingering in his pocket; but the wardens turned their backs not a moment during the time while the bed was being made, which, for that matter, did not THE KING AT LAST REMEMBEES THE CHEVALIER. 305 take long, and when they went away, they carried the candle. Koger thought himself rid of their presence, when one of them returned and, opening the door, said, — " By the way, the last comer is number 169." " Peste! " ejaculated Roger to himself, "it seems that between the Comte d'Olibarus and me, His Majesty has received ten lodgers." And he went to bed with tlie comforting reflection that if the Bastile filled up in that ratio, they would soon be obliged to put the earliest out of doors, or make eight or ten prisoners sleep in the same room, which, in the first instance, would meet with his entire ap- proval, or, in the second, would at least afford him some diversion. Upon which, he fell asleep, holding fast in his hand Crette's note, which he assured himself he would read by the first ray of daylight that penetrated his prison. But man is no more sure of himself in misfortune than in good fortune. Roger slept as well as if he had been perfectly happy, and he did not awake until broad day. At first it was with great difficulty that he recalled where he was. The sight of Comte d'Olibarus sitting on his bed and sewing the tassel on his nightcap, bewildered him quite ; but, after gazing around him, and delving in tlie depths of his memory, Roger soon remembered that he was in the Bastile. Then all the details of his removal recurred to his mind, and he remembered that a musketeer had given him a note from Crette which he had not been able to read the night before, and that he had gone to sleep with the note in his hand, promising himself to read it at the first peep of day. Roger shuddered at the idea of losing this note; he 20 306 SYLVANDIRE. immediately began a search, and he found it, fortunately, under his bolster. Crette's note contained these few lines : — " I know that you are being transferred from For-l'lilveque to the Bastile, and through the agency of Clos-Ilenaud, ■who is a lieutenant of the Gray Musketeers, I am sending you this note. Your wife has not yet reappeared, and, should it drive you to despair, I shall say that I do not think her a stranger to your detention. Royan court is in greater favor than ever, and by the way in whicli I am an- swered when I ask for your release, I am convinced that the blow comes from that source. Moreover, they pretend to have found at your house, written in your hand, some song or other against La Maintenon ; one of those, probably, that you sang to us at Saint Germain. You see indeed that only your wife could have been guilty of this petty treason. " We can accomplish nothing therefore toward your release ; but try to escape, and hasten to my house. Two or three disguises will be ready; you can travel night and day, and, in twenty-four hours you will be in a foreign country." This letter came like a thunder-clap to Iloger. He really believed his wife guilty, he even suspected that Sylvandire had betrayed him; but that she could have been equal to having him imprisoned in For-1'Eveque, was a thing that could never have entered his mind. He was forced to believe it, however; his arrest must have created some stir ; it was impossible that Sylvandire could be ignorant of it, and if she was not ignorant of it, and was not a party to the affair, how did it happen that she was not in Paris soliciting his freedom ? Why had she not already mustered into service all the friends of Maitre Bouteau and of Monsieur de Royancourt ? Why had she not sought and obtained what is very rarely refused a woman, an interview with her husband, even though it THE KING AT LAST REMEMBERS THE CHEVALIER. 307 were in the presence of witnesses? He was indeed forced to believe wliat Crette said. Besides, Crette had not been wrong when he had predicted the future ; all the more reason, therefore, that he should be right in what related to the past. Roger tore Crette's note into impalpable bits and threw them into the fireplace ; for, in the Bastile, from the second floor up, the rooms had fireplaces. Then he rose, planning, for his part, the most terrible scliemes of vengeance against the Marquis de Royancourt and Sylvandire. But to achieve revenge he must be free, and Crette said that he must rely only on himself for that, con- vinced that any measures of his would be futile. Roger then set about inventing some new way of escape. He had come so very near escaping from For-r]6veque that, after all, he did not see why he should not get out of the Bastile. Only, there was one great obstacle to any attempt at flight. It was the presence of the Comte d'Olibarus. Roger meditated on his project for several days; but he meditated in vain; he hit upon nothing. During all this time, his companion showed himself more and more prudent, avoiding all conversation and replying to Roger only when the latter addressed him by his number. Three weeks rolled away, Roger meanwhile spending his days in plotting escape and cursing the cowardice of his room-mate who, the moment the subject was broached, would threaten to call the watch. Many times was he seized with a fierce desire to strangle the count and declare that he had died of a fit of apoplexy ; but, fortunately, Roger always stayed his hand in good season, reserving this extreme measure for a last expedient. 308 SYLVANDIRE. We have avowed tliat in spite of liis preoccupation Roger slept well, lloger was scarcely twenty-one years old^ and a man sleeps well at that age. Yet, occasion- ally, in the midst of his slumbers, strange sounds reached his ears, which he took for a pliase of his dreams. As for the count, he appeared to he still more addicted to sleep than Roger, for almost invariably, when Roger awoke, the count was still asleep. However, one night when Roger had gone to bed revolving a neAV scheme in his brain, and was lying motionless with the bed-covers up to his ears, and reflecting upon all the chances, good and bad, of this new scheme, it seemed to him that the singular noise which he had more than once vaguely heard in his sleep was beginning again. He at once listened most intently, and recognized the sound as that of a muffled file proceeding from the window under which the Comte d'Olibarus had his bed. Then, without interrupting his breathing, to which, on the contrary, he applied himself, giving it all the regularity and the depth of sleep, he half-opened his eyes and directed their gaze toward the window, which, in spite of the darkness of the night, spread around it at least a faint diffusion of light. At first Roger could distinguish nothing; but by degrees his sight became accustomed to the gloom, and he then discovered the Comte d'Olibarus kneeling on his bed and filing at the bars of the window. If ever a man was astonished, certainly Roger was. Hence he lay for a time Avith bated breath. The count, no longer hearing the soimd of his breathing, paused at once. Roger saw that he was being watched. He made one or two movements in bed, yawned, stretched, muttered a few incoherent words like a man in a dream, THE KING AT LAST REMEMBERS THE CHEVALIER. 309 and seemed to fall asleep again. The count remained some time on his guard. Then, when Roger's breath- ing, calm and regular, was re-established, he resumed his task. There was not a doubt of it. The Comte d'Olibarus, so fearful, so timid, so cautious, was himself planning to escape. Roger promised himself to take a hand in it. Four o'clock in the morning sounded. As in all probability the event would not come off that night, Roger went to sleep again. On waking, Roger found the count as serene as usual. He then tried to engage him in conversation; but he succeeded no better than on other days. The count even complained aloud of the ill-luck that pursued him, of continually having thrown in his path a man so compromising as Roger. Underlying all these complaints was such an accent of genuineness that Roger, looking first at the bars and then at the count, began to believe that he had been dreaming. The day passed without Roger's succeeding, even by word or look or gesture, in surprising the count's secret. Then came night, for which Roger was impatiently waiting. This time Roger did not go to sleep, but he made a pretence of doing so. Nevertheless the count lay still in bed for more than two hours, regulating his breath- ing by Roger's. Convinced at last that his companion slept, he rose on his knees and began again his work of the night before, and in all probability of preceding nights. Roger let him work in the greatest tranquillity. About two o'clock the count broke off, and, rising in his bare feet, he advanced toward the fireplace. Then 310 SYLVANDIRE. he drew up the stool, and, standing on it, he spoke in a low voice, although not so low but that Roger could hear these words, — " To-morrow everything will be ready." A voice then said a few words in reply ; but the words readied Roger's ears only as enapty sound from which he could gather no meaning. However, the count replied, — " Yes, to-morrow." Then he listened. The same voice hummed again in the chimney, and he replied, — " Agreed, at two o'clock." And he very carefully returned the stool to its place, went back to his bed, lay down, and apparently went to sleep. As for Roger, now knowing what to expect, he went to sleep in earnest. The next day passed, like the day before, without the count's betraying by any nervousness, any flush, or any sign of impatience the plan fixed for the following night. He was the same man, so silent, so apprehen- sive, so timid, that Roger, who, as we have seen, was himself rather self-contained, stood in admiration before this master of dissimulation whom chance had sent him, and who so far surpassed him. Night came. The two prisoners prepared for bed. Roger merely pretended to undress, and lay down with his clothes on. Without doubt the count, on his part, did likewise. Soon both were snoring at a great rate, though neither the one nor the other was asleep. Toward midnight the count rose in bed and began to saw the last bar. He worked an hour nearly. Then he got up, went to the fireplace, mounted the stool, and said, — THE KING AT LAST REMEMBERS THE CHEVALIER. 311 " Everything is ready." The voice replied with a few words that Eoger still could not understand, but which seemed to be in per- fect harmony with the wishes of the count, for he con- tented himself with replying, — " Good ! very good." Then the count got down off his stool and cast him- self upon his bed. Half an hour went by. Then the count arose, went to the door and listened, and, after assuring himself that the deepest quiet reigned throughout the interior of the prison, he stood a moment like one in a dream. Then, with a slow step, the sound of which his room-mate could scarcely detect, he drew near Roger's bed. For a moment Roger had an idea that the count was coming to assassinate him, and thus make sure of his silence. He lay on guard then, certain, although he was defenceless, of easily getting the better of an old man who would have for a weapon merely a stiletto, a knife, or a poniard. He therefore held himself in readiness to grasp his arm the moment it should be lifted above him. But the count did not raise his arm. He extended it merely, and touched him on the shoulder. Instantly Roger was on his feet before the count, who recoiled a step. " Silence ! " said the count. " The more willingly as I know all, my dear count," returned Roger. " How so 1 " " For three nights I have not slept, nor have I lost, I will not say sight, but hearing, of you." " Then you guess what I am about ? " 312 SYLVANDIRE. " Perfectly, and I am ready." " Dress yourself." " I am dressed. " " Capital ! " " You perceive that you did me injustice in not trusting me." " You are so young! " " Yes, but I have courage and determination." " I know it, and that is why I had resolved to notify you when you would need only those two virtues. The time is at hand; get ready." " I am ready ! What are we to do 1 " "As you are aware, I have succeeded in communi- cating with two prisoners in the room above us. One of the two is a friend of mine, and we were on the point of escaping together from For-l'Eveque, when your own flight caused us to be sent to the Bastile. Happily, we have been separated only by one floor, and have succeeded in communicating with each other through the aperture of the chimney. We have a file. Each of us has sawed the bars of his window. Our two neighbors will let down to us a rope that they have made with their own sheets and blankets, to which we will add our sheets and blankets. They will then pull up the rope, attach it to one of the unsawed bars, and, as the two windows arc directly one above the other, we shall descend, they from their window, we from ours." " Capital ! " " Then it suits you 1 " " Perfectly. Yet, my dear count, now that we are to flee together, come, tell me frankly, why are you in the Bastile ? " " Do you wish to know ? " THE KING AT LAST EEMEMBEKS THE CHEVALIER. 313 " Yes, truly it would give me great satisfaction," said Roger. " By yours I can rate my own offence. You have been a prisoner ten years. I shall know about how long the king was counting upon retaining me as a boarder." " Well, I had the imprudence to say — " " You had the imprudence to say ] " repeated Roger. " That the king — " continued the count, lowering his voice. "Well, that the king?" " Was getting so blind that— " "That — " " That he saw only through Madame de Maintenon's spectacles. " " What ! " cried Roger. " Ten years for that 1 " "Hush, pray!" " You have been in prison ten years for that ? " " Ten years, three months, and five days." "Ah! mon Dieuf Well, in that case, I am in for life." " What have you done 1 " " I ? I composed one or two songs about her. " " And it is known 1 " " It seems that my wife has parted with the originals." " In your handwriting 1 " "In my handwriting." "Then, my dear friend, you are very fortunate to have found a chance to escape, for, as you have just remarked, you were in for life." "Or for theirs," returned Roger, "Which may still be a very long time," replied the count. "Egotists live a hundred and fifty years, like parrots; but hush, here is our rope coming down." Thereupon the count approached the chimney, in 314 SYLVANDIRE. which the cud of a sheet was hanging. The two prisoners then set to work to join their sheets and blankets, end for end, with tlie one that had been lowered. Then, the operation finished, the prisoners in the upper story drew up the whole. The count then approaclied the window, and, with Roger's help, wrenched away the two bars which were now held in place only by a bit of iron, and which, on being broken out, left a space wide enough for a man to pass through. It was agreed that the count should go first and Roger next. Both got up on the bed, holding themselves in readi- ness. They heard the sound of the rope lightly touching as it descended. Then they could distinguish an opaque body. It was one of the prisoners from the uj)per story. He reached the ground without accident and waited. The second passed in his turn, and he also stood in safety beside the first. Then it was the turn of the count, who reached the ground with the same good fortune. Then, last of all, went Roger, and he joined his companions. Twenty steps away there was a sentinel who kept pacing back and forth, sometimes turning his back upon the fugitives, sometimes coming toward them. There was no way of escape except by going within ten steps of him. They must leap from the rampart into the foss, swim the foss, scale the opposite slope, let themselves down from there on some low-roofed house of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, and escape by way of the mansards or the gutters. There were twenty chances of breaking their necks. THE KING AT LAST REMEMBERS THE CHEVALIER. 315 It was nevertheless agreed that, just as the sentinel was about to turn, the four fugitives should make a dash, every man for himself. So said, so done. The soldier went the length of his beat; then he turned. At the same instant the four fugitives ran straight for the ditch. Roger heard the sentinel's challenge, "Who goes there? " saw a long flash followed by a report, felt one of his comrades roll between his legs, and became con- scious at the same time, by a sensation as from the violent lash of a whip, that he was struck in the side ; but he plunged into the ditch, nevertheless, and began to swim for the opposite bank. Meanwhile a great hue and cry arose from the Bastile. Windows became alight, torches began to move rapidly about, and the soldiers shouted : " To arms ! to arms ! " Roger kept on swimming. The water prevented his feeling pain. Hence he reached the bank thinking himself but slightly wounded ; but he had barely set foot upon the ground before he felt that his strength was failing. He summoned, therefore all his courage, and, aiding himself with his hands, continued to toil up the grassy slope; but it seemed to him that the sky had turned the color of blood. A ringing noise like that of a bell sounded in his ears. He tried to speak, to call mechani- cally for help, and his voice died in his throat. Then he raised himself again, beating the air with his hands, made a last effort, in which his remaining faculties Avere exhausted, and fell back fainting. His two remaining comrades continued their flight. As we have said, it had been agreed that each mac should think only of himself. 316 SYLVANDIRE. XXIII. HOW THE CHEVALIER d'aNGUILHEM WENT FROM THE BASTILE TO THE CHATEAU DE CHALON-SUR-SAONE, AKp MADE THE JOURNEY IN COMPANY WITH AN OFFICER OF VERY SPRIGHTLY CHARACTER. The Comto d'Olibarus was killed, and Eoger was dangerously wounded. The count was buried as Kumber 158, and Roger was returned to the Bastile. But Roger was a Hercules. In three weeks' time he was on his feet again, still weak, but quite out of danger. What is more, his two accidents had sobered him very much with regard to attempts at escape, and he was, for the time being at least, almost cured of his mania for flight. But, what he was not cured of, what he promised himself never to be cured of, was hatred of Sylvandire, to whom, according to what Crette had told him, he owed, first, his incarceration, and next the two wounds that had resulted from it. True, in ridding herself of Roger by means of For-l'Eveque and the Bastile, means so commonly resorted to in those days, Sylvandire could not foresee that he would have the bad taste to attempt to escape, and that those two attempts would end so unfortunately for him ; but it was not the less true that the cause of it all was Sylvandire. Hence the chevalier promised himself, once free, to visit upon her a cruel vengeance. But what should that vengeance be ? Roger had no idea as yet. He knew only that some day he would be revenged. THE CHEVALIER MAKES ANOTHER JOURNEY. 317 One evening, after he had all day given himself up to these soothing reflections, he heard steps in his corridor. As it was at an unusual hour, and as, after four or five months of prison life, he was beginning to know the ways of such establishments, he was convinced that a new turn was to be given to his affairs. In fact, two soldiers entered and stationed themselves at either side of his door. The governor followed them, and after saluting Roger, he invited the latter to gather up his belongings in the room and follow him. The inventory was not long. One of the turnkeys shouldered ■ the little bundle, and Roger obeyed the governor. They traversed the corridor that opened upon the inner court, then the court itself, then the archway, all between a double line of guards. Then, on the other side, they found a carriage. Another transfer was on foot. Roger, who was beginning to be skeptical as to the memory of His Majesty, Louis XIV., did not deceive himself this time. Besides, there was a mounted musketeer at either door of the carriage and an officer was sitting inside. The prisoner then saluted the governor, thanking him for the care bestowed on his wound, and took his place beside the officer. Instantly the door Avas locked, and the vehicle set off at full speed. Part of Paris was crossed without Roger's being able to see in what direction the carriage was taking him. It was the kind of night that is usually chosen for the transfer of prisoners. However, by the fresher and purer atmosphere, he soon felt that they were outside of the capital. He leaned toward the window, from which he could make out trees and fields; but as he appeared very much absorbed in the sight, the officer remarked, — 318 SYLVANDIRE. " I warn yon, monsieur, that the coach is locked, that two musketeers arc galloping beside us, that I have a pistol in each pocket, and tliat my orders are to fire on you at the slightest effort on your part to escape. You see, I tell you this," the officer continued, "because I am an old soldier, and I should not like to kill a gentle- man without telling him why. Now, you have your warning. The rest is your affair." With a sigh Roger flung himself back into the depths of the carriage. He was beginning to entertain a lively esteem for material force, which he had heretofore known only as something to combat and to vanquish. ' " But, in short, " said Roger, " where am I to be taken now 1 " " I am forbidden to say," responded the officer. " Ah ! You were recommended to me as a keen fellow that takes advantage of the slightest indiscretion." Roger gave vent to a deep groan. "Come, now! come, now!" continued the officer. " Use a little reason and you will not give up for that. I have conducted women who put a better face on the matter than you." " Then you are taking me to another prison 1 " said Roger. " Oh! as for that, if I were to say no, you would not believe me. So I will answer frankly, yes." "To Pignerol or to the lies Sainte Marguerite," murmured Roger. " Ah ! Fouquet ! ah ! Lauzun ! " «'Sh!" exclaimed the officer. " 'Sh! Don't spoil matters by talking to me of all those great men. Let us go along quietly now, and not meddle with politics. Come, I am a good-hearted fellow myself, and it is very fortunate that you did not fall into the hands of some of my confreres, so surly and uncivil that they THE CHEVALIER MAKES ANOTHER JOURXEY. 319 would not have said a word to you the whole way. I, on the contrary, like a man to be a gentleman. I detest not talking, and I consider it much better to make the poor prisoners laugh than to make them cry, being at quits afterwards to show them teeth and claws if they are ungrateful for my consideration; but I must say that has never happened to me. Come, be a good fellow like the rest, and I promise you the journey shall not seem long." "Ah!" said Koger, with a shudder. "That is it; we are going to the other side of France. Ah ! Mattioli ! oh ! the Iron Mask ! " "Again, again!" resumed the officer. "Oh! i' faith, my gentleman, you promise me a very disagree- able journey, while I would like nothing better, for my part, than to make the trip a cheerful one. Come, rouse up, put a good face on it. I do not mean literally, as your face is not to be seen, — although I can guess that you are making a wry mouth, — and I will talk to you, although I am expressly forbidden to do so." " And what will you talk about 1 " asked Eoger. " Ah! dame! of matters and things, of rain or shine. Anything is better than sulking like a pike." " But there is only one thing that I wish to know. There is but one point on which I wish to be enlightened." " Well , speak out, what is it ? " " "Where are we going 1 " " I am forbidden to tell you. " " Ah! you see, indeed." " Yes ; but I am not forbidden to tell you where we are not going. " "Oh! tell me, then." "First of all, let us settle some trifling conditions. 320 SYLVANDIRE. Promise that you will not try to escape, and that you will not be sad any longer. Ah! look here, sadness is the death of me ! " "But will you, in return," said Eoger, "give me your word as an old soldier that you will deliver a mes- sage with which I may charge you ? " « I ?" "Yes, you." " You might offer me one hundred crowns and I would promise you nothing. Why, think of it, my dear monsieur, your demand is absurd. Come! And why should the king have you under guard if not to keep you from sending messages? Now, pray be sensible ! " Roger reflected that he would gain nothing from his comrade's ill-will, while he might, on the other hand, lose a great deal by it. Escape seemed impossible. Besides, as we have said, he was for the time being cured of that monomania. So, after a moment's silence, he said to his fellow-traveller, — " Well, monsieur, I pledge you my word as a gentle- man that I will make no attempt at escape, and that I will be as gay as I can. " " Well said I Now we are growing reasonable, and we shall have a charming little trip. Come, come, ask the questions and you shall be answered. " " Are we going to the lies Sainte Marguerite ? " "No." " To the Tour Saint-Jean 1 " "No." " To Pierre-en-Scise ? " " You are warm. " " To the fortress of Dijon ? " " You burn ; you burn. " THE CHEVALIER MAKES ANOTHER JOURNEY. 321 " Then we are going to the Chateau do ChCilon 1 " Silence, absolute and prolonged. " But, answer me now ! " cried Eoger, impatiently. "That Avas not our agreement, my dear monsieur," protested the officer. " I promised to tell you where you are not going, but I am forbidden to tell you where you are going. Suppose that I am compromised by my kindness to you, and that I am compelled to swear that I did not tell you that you were going to the Chateau de Chalon. In that case, I lift my hand, and give my oath conscientiously, for I have not told you." " Indeed ! Then we are on our way to the Chateau de Chalon," murmured Eoger with a sigh, as he fell back, silent and thoughtful, into the corner of the carriage. " Come, come ! " said the officer. " Here we are, given over to melancholy. We are to have a lively journey, it appears, and two days of it ! Ah ! I warn you, in the start, that I will not put up with it." " What ! " said Roger, " you will force me to be gay?" "I have your word, monsieur, and, as a man of honor, you will take pity on a poor officer and live up to it. Why, think of it, I was not born to be an officer; not I. I was meant for a ballad-singer at Turlnpin's. Hah ! speaking of songs, excellent ! I am glad I thought of that. It may cheer you up. Ah ! you have composed some droll songs, my dear monsieur ! " " What do you mean 1 " demanded Roger. " Good ! you are not going to deny it ? They were found at your house, and in your handwriting." " I have no idea of what you mean. " " I see, I see. I am not trying to extract an acknowl- 21 322 SYLVANDIRE. edgment; Imt you are of a satirical turn, my dear monsieur." And tlio exempt began to sing, to the tune of a popular air: — " On (lit quo c'est la Maintenon Qui renverse le trOue, Et que cette vieille guenon Nous v^duit h Taunione. Louis le Grand soutient que non, La faridondaine, la faridondon, Et que tout se regie par lui, Biribi, A la fa9on de Barbari, Mon ami." ['* They say that 't is la Maintenon Doth cause the throne's downfall, And that that same old harridan Doth make us beggars aU. But it is not so, says Louis the Great, La faridondaine, la faridondon, And I the trouble will regulate, Biribi, As they do it in Barbary, My boy."] " I was not the author of it ! " cried Roger. " I had the misfortune to copy it, that is all." " And this one ? " said the officer. And he sang again to another tune : — " Tout ce que fait la Maintenon, Ne saurait jamais etre bon. Cette vieille sempiternelle, A donne la guerre au Voisin, Et je crois que Polichinelle Aura les finances demain." Madame de Maintenon. THE CHEVALIER MAKES ANOTHER JOURNEY. 323 [" Whatever la IMaintenon does, my son, Is never done as it should be done. That sempiternal old baboon Made Voisin IMinister of War, And Master Punch himself eftsoon Will have the Treasm-y, I swear."] "But I tell yon," rejoined Eoger, "that I did not compose that song either." "Good! and this one? " The officer resumed, to a different tune: — " Ah ! ah ! ah ! Maintenon, Margoton, Dit le bon roi, Laisse-moi, Car c'est toi Qni me feras rire Dans la poele h frire." [" Ah ! ah ! ah ! Maintenon, Margoton, The king, says he. Don't nag at me, For can't you see If you have your way There 's the devil to pay ! "] "But," cried Roger, "how does it happen that you can sing those songs without being arrested ? " " I am singing them to you, dear monsieur, and to no one else. JPeste ! It would never enter my head to sing them in public nor to copy them in my own hand. Not that I do not find them very droll, and to prove it, as you see, I have not changed a word, heh ? Am I wrong? Come, now, if I have made a mistake, do you, as the author, point it out." 324 SYLVANDIRE. " On my honor," replied Eoger. " I protest — " "Hush! No more! Certainly, I will pretend to believe you. Well , no ! It was not you. Come, we will say no more about it." "Oh! luckless wretch that I am!" cried Roger. " Oh ! how imprudent I was to sing such things ! " "On the contrary, they must be sung. There is no harm in it; but they must be sung in private, while tete-a-tete, as we are. But copies of them should not be kept at home, and especially copies in one's own handwriting, or, i' faith! a man is liable, if his wife needs to get rid of him. Ah! damie ! She is so easy to tempt, woman ! " "What!" exclaimed Eoger, "do you know of my misfortune, too? " " What misfortune 1 " " Why, in short, what you were just speaking of." " I ! I know nothing," said the officer. " I spoke of that as I might have spoken of anything else." Then he began humming, — " On dit que c'est la Maintenon Qui renverse la trone." As for Roger, quite overcome by his singular posi- tion, and beginning to fear lest his mind should give Avay in the conflict of ideas besieging him, he closed his eyes, and, resting his head against the side of the car- riage, he endeavored to recover somewhat his clearness of mind, while the officer, passing from one song to another, continued to hum the seditious stanzas for which he seemed to entertain especial admiration. However, as Roger had not slept for three nights, in the end he succumbed to sleep, nor did he awake until broad daylight the next morning. He found beside THE CHEVALIEK MAKES ANOTHER JOURNEY. 325 him, still fresh, alert and smiling, the officer, who inquired, with the liveliest interest as to how he had passed the night. As for himself, he asserted that, relying on his prisoner's word, he had enjoyed all the delights of slumber. Just as they were leaving the carriage for breakfast, he asked Roger if he had any money. Roger was without a sou. They had taken away everything that he possessed, even his jewels, through fear that he might use them to bribe his keepers. The prisoner therefore made humble confession of his poverty. Thereupon a certain conflict between a good and a bad impulse appeared to be taking place in the officer's mind. But the good impulse won the day. " Listen, I could keep fifteen sous of the two livres allowed by the king for your meal ; but you have been very amiable, you have kept your word. Instead of being extortionate, as certain of my confreres would be, I will give up some of it, and, with your permis- sion, if my company is not too disagreeable, why, we will breakfast together." "With great pleasure," replied Roger, who, in such matters had never possessed very exaggeratedly aristo- cratic ideas, and who, moreover, did not care to fall out with his companion. And they both sat down to the table. As the officer had hoped, the meal was really good. Roger ate like a convalescent twenty years of age. " What a fine time of life is yours ! " remarked the officer, regarding him with envy, notwithstanding that, for his own part, he had come off with some distinc- tion. " What a delightful appetite ! Yet I was the same at your age. But I was much gayer, always singing, singing at the top of my voice, with mouth 326 SYLVANDIRE. stretched from morning till niglit, singing like a lark, like a goldtinch, like a nightingale, but always careful to sing other people's songs, and never my own, unless I was alone with a friend like you. For I used to make songs, too; not so good as yours, perhaps, but they had their merit nevertheless. Listen, now, here is one of them." And the officer began to sing to an air from " The Chimes:" — " Tonton, ton temps est passd, Vieille coquette 1 Touton, ton timbre est cassd, Vieille pendule I tu repetes, A soixante ans, Le carillon de la clochette Dans son printemps. Mais, h present, Ton tocsin tiutant Ne reveille personne, Quand sur le tendre ton Ta grosse cloche sonne, Non, non, non. Si Ton t'entend, Ce n'est qu'au son De ton argent comptant." [" Tonton, past is thy time. Old coquette ! Tonton, cracked is thy chime, Old clock ! that dost repeat, Though past thy prime, The carillon so sweet That joy-bells sing In their spring. But now, old crone, Thy wheezy ting-a-ling THE CHEVALIER MAKES ANOTHER JOURNEY. 327 Will serve to waken none, When in its tenderest tone Thy hoarse old bell doth groan. Ding, dong, ding. Whoever is listening, He listens to the ring Of thy good hard cash alone."] " Hey 1 what do you say to that, my cavalier ? " demanded the officer, when he had ended and had allowed Roger a moment's silence in which to appraise his verse. " Why, I say," replied Roger, " that you are very imprudent to sing such things." " Why so 1 " " What if 1 were to denounce you 1 " "Bah! who would believe you? I should say that you wanted to take revenge for my strictness, and it would all recoil on you." During the night they arrived at the Chateau de Chalon-sur-Saone. Roger was conducted forthwith to the room assigned to him; but, as he was very tired from the journey, and very much weakened by his recent wound, which Avas not yet healed, he cast himself on his bed without even looking to see what his room was like. He remarked merely that it was lighted by a lamp hanging from the ceiling, and this attention pleased him. 328 SYLVANDIKE. XXIV. HOW THE CHEVALIER d'aNGUILHEM BECOMES AS WISE AND AS WARY AS HAD BEEN THE LATE COMTE d'OLIBARUS. When Roger first awoke, lie saw the lamp still burn- ing. Thereupon, thinking that it was not yet day, he turned his face to the wall and again fell asleep. But the next time that he awoke, he wondered at the delay of sunrise, and gazed about him. Then the terrible truth dawned upon him. He was in a cell without windoAvs. The lamp, whose light he had hailed as a blessing, was henceforth his only sun. A revolving dumb-waiter, designed to serve his meals, contained the breakfast, — proof positive that the day was already advanced. Ah, then ! Brave as Koger was, his misfortunes bore heavily upon his soul and rent his breast. He sat down on his bed, his arms listless, asking himself what he had done to God or man to be thus abandoned by the one and maltreated by the other. He sat thus in the deepest dejection for a period whose duration he was incapable of reckoning. Only his dumb-waiter moved, turned, and came back laden with his dinner in place of the breakfast that had returned as intact as it had come. Yet, in the midst of this profound grief by which Roger was crushed, nature, ever exacting, claimed her rights. Roger was hungry. Roger was thirsty. Me- THE CHEVALIER BECOMES WISE AND WARY. 329 chanically approaching the dummy, he ate and drank as a thirsty, starving animal would have done. Then, with a slow and regular tread, he began to range the limits of his room like a wild beast in a cage. The hours rolled on unmarked by change of day- light and darkness. The days went by without his hear- ing a single rumor. Roger's sole distraction was the sound made by the turning of the dumb-waiter when his meals vrere served, or the motion of his lamp as it dis- appeared through the ceiling for a supply of oil and a new wick. But the hand that caused the dummy to creak and the lamp to ascend remained invisible. Once or twice Roger addressed the unknown agent, asking the day or the hour, not for the sake of knowing either, but simply to hear the sound of a human voice. But never did his questions win the slightest response, and the prisoner very soon ceased to repeat attempts whose futility he recognized. At first he was beside himself with despair. Then exhaustion succeeded despair. Sometimes he slept twelve hours at a stretch. He either sprawled like a brute or sat stock-still like an idiot. He once hoped that he was going mad; and at the thought he burst into wild shouts of laughter. But he was not so fortunate. As a stone cast into a pool momentarily troubles the water and sends the mire to its surface, so had rage and despair filled Roger's brain at the blow received in his heart. But just as the water gradually becomes pure and pellucid, the prisoner's brain grew calm, and, after a month of this captivity, a casual glance would have led one to think him subdued and almost resigned. The truth was, the bitterness which had at first 330 SYLVANDIRE. rankled in his mind had gradually been precipitated, and it filled his heart. Then the appearance of resignation came upon him. He looked as if he lived like any one else. His mind grew active with repose of body, his ideas were reor- ganized. By dint of studying his situation he cauglit glimpses of a thousand confused possibilities of which, when outside, at liberty and among people, his mind, diverted by exterior objects, would never have per- mitted him to suspect even the existence. He went back over his life day by day, hour by hour, almost minute by minute, from the day on which he became Sylvandire's husband to the hour of his arrest at Cours-la-E,eine. He reviewed the brief love that Sylvandire had seemed to entertain for him, but which was merely the physical attraction that a woman feels for the first man that has caused her to experience unknown sensations. He saw that false love gradually disappear and make way for indifference. Then he recognized the springing up of the first symptoms of the dislike to which Sylvandire had since sacrificed him. These symptoms had followed close upon Monsieur de Royancourt's appearance at the Hotel d'Anguilhem. This dislike was very soon reenforced by that which Sylvandire conceived for her husband's intimates. From that time strife was established between those two natures so dissimilar. Both had summoned their natural allies. Roger had called in Crette, d'Herbigny, Clos-Renaud, and hosts of true-hearted gentlemen, who had at first counselled an open and aggressive war, and later a wise retreat. Sylvandire had called to her aid the Marquis de Royancourt, Monsieur Bouteau, with- out doubt, and the Jesuit, Letellier. Probably they had resorted to tortuous measures, to underhanded sub- THE CHEVALIER BECOMES WISE AND WARY. 331 terfuges, to evil machinations, and they had succeeded. E-oger was now in their toils, bound hand and foot, held under an accusation that had nothing to do with the real cause of his arrest. His imprisonment would last as long as Monsieur de Royancourt's passion, love, or fancy endured for Sylvandire, and perhaps longer; for, to tlieir dread of the wronged husband's accusation would be added fear of the injured prisoner's vengeance. His detention, then, might be indefinitely prolonged, either because the love with which Sylvandire inspired the marquis might defy time, or because the fear with which Roger inspired Monsieur de Royancourt might prove stronger than remorse. Then, too, Roger analyzed his own conduct with the same attention to details that he had just exercised in the analysis of that of others, and he discovered a thousand ways, under the same conditions, of avoiding all the misfortunes that had befallen him. "Yes," said Roger to himself, "yes, I have been nothing but a fool. I should have done as do so many husbands that I know who are happy and respected, and are at this moment walking up and down the streets of Paris in the full enjoyment of their liberty. I should have shut my eyes, and taken up with Mademoiselle Poussette, as Crette advised me. Decidedly, the others were all men of sense. As for me, I am a fool. "Instead of being a poor prisoner as I now am, I should be the colonel of a regiment. I should have to mortify the flesh three days in the week, it is true. But on other days, in some very elegant, commodious, retired little house of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, I should be living on the fat of the land with mistress and friends. The king would bestow on me his blandest smile. I should kiss the dry hand of Madame de 332 SYLVANDIRE. Maintenon once a week. I should pay court to P^re Letellier. I might hold a duke's patent, be a peer of France, perhaps. " Ah ! really I am a fool. " But, no ! no ! a hundred times no ! I did what I should have done. I did what I would do again. Honor is everything in this world, and there is but one way of looking at it. Besides, I loved that woman, not with my heart, — my heart has always belonged to poor Constance, — but I loved her with pride. I loved her because she was beautiful, perhaps also because I have done much for her, perhaps because she owed everything to me. But however that may be, I loved her, in short. I should not, I could not, have allowed her to be taken from me. I did therefore just as I should have done, and not I am the fool. The fools are they who are branded with infamy. " But, let me be free for one day and I will avenge myself ! Ah ! when will that be 1 " That was the question. At For-r;^veque E,oger had told himself that if his liberty were restored to him he Avould pardon all. At the Bastile he had made a few mental reservations. At Chalon he told himself that he was twenty-two years old, and the king was seventy-five. That, grant- ing the king ten years to live, that is, until he was eighty -five, it was all that a crowned head, however exacting, could demand. Then, the king being dead, the prisons would be thrown open. At the very worst, therefore, Roger would leave prison at thirty-two. Now Roger asked himself which he would prefer, to leave prison at that very moment and have no revenge, or to leave in ten years and take his revenge quite at his ease. THE CHEVALIER BECOMES WISE AND WARY, 333 Boger answered that he would prefer to leave prison in ten years and avenge himself like an able-bodied man. So at the end of three months of isolation and seclu- sion, Roger had become a deep thinker, a consummate politician, a Machiavelli of the first rank. At times, could a person have looked in upon him, he would have been seen sitting on his stool with his legs crossed, his elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand, his gaze fixed, and a smile on his lips. Such a person might then have supposed that Roger was dream- ing of his father, his mother, Mademoiselle de Beuzerie, the beautiful days of his youth, or of some pleasant memory. No, Roger was dreaming of vengeance. Eleven months thus rolled away, the prisoner's heart never despairing, his courage never failing him. His sunburnt face may have whitened somewhat during this long night; his Herculean outlines were reduced by fasting; but the pallor lent him an air that he had lacked, and the falling-off gave him an elegance that one had vainly sought in him. Roger remained strong and handsome ; but Roger was becoming a hypocrite. Every night he prayed aloud for the king's length of days and for Madame de Maintenon's; because, you see, eyes might be watching what he did, ears perhaps were listening to what he said. True, at the bottom of his heart and in the same breath he sent them all to the devil ; but that was inwardly, and only God and himself knew anything about it. One morning as he was gnawing at a crust of bread that was serving as his breakfast, the door of his cell opened. A voice that he recognized reached his ear. His eyes, accustomed to the darkness, — for often he 334 SYLVANDIRE. went liours, whole (lays, even, without any one's think- ing to religlit his expired lamp, — distinguished a superbly dressed gentleman, who advanced two or three steps and spoke his name. It was Monsieur de Royancourt coming with out- stretched arms to meet Koger. Roger seized his stool and raised it with the intention of breaking Monsieur de E-oyancourt's head. His enemy stood before him. He had but to drop his massive arm to annihilate him. Roger reflected, flung the stool on the bed, and ran toward the Marquis de Royancourt with open arms. Thanks to the obscurity in which he was enveloped, the threatening gesture, which in his first impulse had escaped him, passed unobserved. These two men, who mortally hated each other, pressed heart to heart like friends, like brothers. "You are here, then, my dear Anguilhem ! " ex- claimed the marquis, drawing him outside. " Ah ! how long we searched without finding you ! " In spite of his presence of mind, Roger was astounded at such boldness; but he concealed his amazement beneath the smile that he had practised, accepted the hand that Monsieur de Royancourt extended to draw him from his cell, and following his lead while effusively pressing his hand, he reached a room belonging to the governor's apartment. Passing in front of a mirror, Roger hardly knew himself. His beard was long, his hair bristling, and his clothes hung in rags. He smiled at himself with the same smile that he had bestowed on Monsieur de Royancourt. " You are free, my dear Monsieur d' Anguilhem," said the marquis. " But, vwn Dieu ! how does it THE CHEVALIEK BECOMES WISE AND WARY. 335 happen that Ave have had no news of you for these fif- teen months? However, we will speak of all that later. Let us be off now as expeditiously as possible. " "The most expeditious way, my dear liberator, my friend, my brother," said Roger, "would be, I think, to ascertain from monsieur le gouverneur, whether I am really free, — a thing I cannot yet believe." " You are free, my dear chevalier, thanks to our entreaties," returned the marquis. " Believe that I am truly grateful. I should say, then, that the first thing to do would be to ascertain whether monsieur le gouverneur would kindly lend me a room, order a bath, and send for a tailor and a hairdresser. " " Of course, my dear chevalier, you shall have all that, with the exception of the tailor, who is not needed. I foresaw your destitution, and I have in my chaise some clothes that I brought from your hotel. They shall be laid out for you ; and at the same time, if you will permit, my valet shall attend you." " You overwhelm me, my dear marquis; but I accept. It is delightful to owe everything to you." Roger was conducted to a room, a bath was brought him, and, while he was in the bath. Monsieur de Koyancourt's valet shaved him and dressed his hair. Then, on emerging from his bath, Roger made his toilet. Not before did he himself perceive the change that had taken place in him. The one quality formerly wanting in Roger had been refinement of mien, that distinctive mark of breeding. Fasting and perhaps reflection had lent him that refinement. Roger was now a finished cavalier. Monsieur de Royancourt was himself astonished at 336 SYLVANDIKE. sight of liira. There was a look of power in the man which lie had never seen, and it made him shudder. Resolution shone in his eye. For the first time Mon- sieur de Royancourt thought of how much the man had to fear who had Roger for an enemy. The governor desired to detain the gentlemen to breakfast; but Roger smilingly answered that the governor doubtless forgot that his own had been served just before Monsieur de Royancourt had entered his cell. The governor stammered a few excuses, falling back on the rigid rules of the institution which would not permit him to show his guests all the attentions that were sometimes their due. Roger thereupon replied, with his unfailing smile, that, as for himself, he could not complain, so thoroughly well treated had he been. The chaise stood before the entrance. Post-horses were attached. Monsieur de Royancourt and Roger entered, and the carriage departed at full speed. It was with deepest ecstasy that Roger, oppressed for eleven months by the noisome air of a cell, inhaled the pure, balmy air of the month of May. It was with inexpressible happiness that Roger beheld, instead of the gloomy boundary of four walls, the landscape with its wide plains and distant blue mountains, but all this pleasure, all this enjoyment was confined within. He was as impenetrable in his happiness as in his hatred, and he looked again upon this nature that he so loved with the same smile with which he looked at the man he so hated. And from time to time he answered the other's questions with an affectionate glance or a friendly tone, and renewed his assurances of gratitude and devotion. At last the conversation, marked for a time on the marquis' side by a certain embarrassment of which he THE CHEVALIER BECOMES WISE AND WARY, 337 was not quite master, and on Eoger's by an emotion that he had not power entirely to stifle, assumed a more even tone. Roger summoned up all his courage, steadied his voice, and asked for news of Sylvandire. "Alas ! poor woman! " returned Monsieur de Eoyan- court. "You have caused her great sorrow, and you owe her great amends." " Ah ! " murmured Eoger, " indeed ! " "Unquestionably," answered Monsieur de Eoyan- court. " At first, although you had threatened to leave her, she would not believe in your departure, and thought it only a joke. But when she saw one, two, three days go by without your return, she was indeed obliged to succumb before the evidence. Then she became almost demented. For a week there was noth- ing but sighs and tears. Finally, she Avent to Monsieur d'Argenson to find out where you were. Monsieur d'Argenson knew only that you were no longer in France. As you may suppose, at this news her despair increased, and one fine day, on presenting himself at your house, her father learned that she had set out that very morning to discover and to rejoin you wherever you might be. For three months no one knew what had become of her, poor woman ! And the king, who knows everything that happens in his realm, learning of this adventure, declared that j'-ou were a bad hus- band, a wicked example, and ordered that you should be arrested." " Good and excellent king! " cried the chevalier most earnestly. " Then it was that the search was made at your house Avhen the unfortunate verses were found which have caused all the trouble." 22 338 SYLVANDIRE. " And wliicli I sincerely repent having preserved. For you do not think nie capable of such ingratitude as to be the author of them, do you? " "Oh! I have never thought so. It was in that con- viction that I pleaded your cause." " My deliverer ! " cried the chevalier, gra'^ping both hands of Monsieur de Royancourt. " Uut let us return to Sylvandire, I beg." " Well, my dear friend, Sylvandire arrived in London after you. She learned that yovi had just set out for France. She followed you. At Dover she was a day too late ; at Calais, two hours. " " Dear Sylvandire ! " murmured the chevalier with the most conjugal emphasis. "At Calais she learned of your departure for Paris, and, without losing a moment, without stopping to rest, much as she must have needed to do so, she also set out, hoping to overtake you on the Avay; but her hope was deceived. Not having overtaken you, she hoped to find you at the hotel, and she sat up all night without rest, because she looked for you to arrive at any moment; but you did not come. Judge of her grief ! " "Ah, marquis, marquis, you torture my soul! " cried Koger, as he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. " What then 1 Continue. And I could suspect such a wife! ah, you are right, marquis; I am guilty. What next did she do? What next? " " Well," resumed the marquis, deceived by - the naturalness with which Roger played his part, " what could you expect me to tell you after that ? Her days were spent in grief, in tears; for you did not appear, and we did not know what had become of you." "You did not know that I was in prison? Well, on my word of honor, I suspected as much." THE CHEVALIER BECOMES WISE AND WARY. 339 "Oh! won Dkn ! no, we did not know it. Monsieur d'Argenson, dreading to be solicited by Madame d'Anguilhem, or forced by me, whom he knew to have influence, Monsieur d'Argenson apprised us of your imprisonment only about a fortnight ago. And then, as you may suppose, Sylvandire took the field. Monsieur de Bouteau and I, for our parts, did like- wise, and we have so begged and entreated and besought Madame de Maintenon, so encompassed the king, that we have at last obtained your pardon. Ah ! my dear Anguilhem," added the marquis feelingly, "ah! how we have suffered ! " " And all that time I was accusing you of lukewarm- ness. Ah! wretch, ingrate that I am! You have pardoned me; but do you think that she will ever pardon me, marquis ? " "A woman's soul is a treasury of indulgence," replied the marquis. " Hope, then, my dear chevalier." " And now that you have reassured me somewhat upon that point, a word of my parents, my dear marquis. My conjugal affection, you see, has caused me to forget filial affection. The baron and the baroness are in good health, I trust? " "Yes, thank God! and, through your wife's fore- thought, they are both notified that you are about to return from a long journey; for they, like us, were ignorant of your captivity." " Thoughtful Sylvandire ! And our acquaintances, d'Herbigny, Clos-Kenaud, Crette?" The last name escaped Roger carelessly rather than deliberately. The marquis was caught by the careless manner. "Why, as you know," he returned,"! see little of your friends, who pass at court for libertines, haunting 340 SYLVANDIRE. the Palais Royal. I believe, however, that they are well, especially Monsieur de Crette, with whom I regret having had some differences ; but, thank heaven, everything is adjusted between us." "Ah, indeed! You have had differences on account of Madame de Maintenon ? Of course it is wrong of Crettd not to admire that noble, that saintly woman. But, as you have just remarked, the man is dissolute, an associate, I believe, of Broglie, La Fare, and Canilhac." " All lost souls ! " declared Monsieur de Royancourt, clasping his hands with an air of compassion. " Supposing them to have any," said Roger. Monsieur de Royancourt made a sign of misgiving, and for a time there was a lull in the conversation. Roger was delighted with himself. He had just put into practice the rules which his fifteen months of prison life had taught him. He saw that he had duped Monsieur de Royancourt, and he hoped to deceive his wife as he had deceived the marquis. With slight variations, the remainder of the journey was abridged by conversations of the same sort. The travellers journeyed day and night, halting at Auxerre and stopping only for a moment at Fontainebleau. At last they reached Paris. Roger saw For-l'Eveque in the distance, and rode along the foot of the walls of the Bastile. Ten minutes later they were at the gates of the Hotel d'Anguilhem. Evidently Roger was expected. The entire house- hold had been apprised, and were drawn up to receive him. On entering the court of the hotel, Roger saw lackeys at all the doors, and his wife at the window. He leaped from the coach, and hastened toward the THE CHEVALIER BECOMES WISE AND WARY. 341 salon. Sylvandire, followed by Monsieur Bouteau, advanced to meet him, so that he encountered her at the door. At that moment, beyond the calmly hypocritical face of his wife, Eoger caught sight of the portraits of his father and mother smiling at him from their frames. Then, seared as his heart was by fifteen months of imprisonment, the tears sprang to his eyes at sight of the only friends on whom man can rely. His emotion was so overpowering that Roger fainted. Sylvandire could possibly have thought, and she doubtless did think, that his love for her and his joy at seeing her again had deprived the chevalier of his senses. 342 SYLVANDIRE. XXV. now THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM SET FIRE TO HIS HOTEL TO FIND OUT WHETHER HE WAS OB WAS NOT WHAT HE FEARED. Three days after the scene we have just described, a spectacle patriarchal to behold was atforded by the Hotel d'Angnilheni, thanks to Maitre Kouteau's charming cordiality, to Sylvandire's extravagant caresses, to Monsieur de Royancourt's eager sympathy, and to Roger's hypocrisy. All these people appeared to love one another accord- ing to the apostolic injunction. Now, as we view everything in this world merely on the surface, we all allow ourselves to be deceived by it, even when self-interest requires us to sound the depths of other people's motives. Even Roger, finding himself enveloped by such tender affection whichever way he looked or turned, was occasionally conscious of doubt in his heart. Crette, unfortunately, had been absent from Paris about eight days. Roger had secretly gone to his house and arranged with little Basque that as soon as his master returned Roger should be told. Meanwhile Sylvandire was unable to be demonstrative enough toward her husband. She asked him how he spent his time in prison, and if he sometimes thought of her. Roger assured her that the prison was a very pleasant abode; that the jailers made very attentive servants; THE CHEVALIER SETS FIRE TO HIS HOTEL. 343 that he dined every day at the governor's table ; that he went out with him in his carriage every afternoon, and that they played at ombre or checkers together every evening, after which, with every possible mark of respect, he was shown to a pretty room whose only defects consisted of a door with two bolts and a window with four bars. The chevalier feared that if he told Sylvandire the real state of the case, she must under- stand that a man who had suffered so much had much to avenge. As to thinking of her, Roger fondly assured Syl- vandire that he had done nothing else from morning until night, and from night until morning. In this instance, we know that Koger told the exact truth. Then Sylvandire in turn assured Roger that she found him very much improved, and that prison life had wonderfully agreed with him. One morning, little Basque came and told Roger that the Marquis de Crette had returned half an hour before, Roger left his hotel on foot, took a carriage at the corner of the street, and proceeded to the Hotel Crette. The marquis was expecting him. The two friends cast themselves into each other's arms. Crette had learned much of what had happened to Roger, and particularly the details of his two escapes and the injuries resulting therefrom. But the marquis was ignorant of the solitary confinement, the sunless cell, the torture of living days that cannot be reckoned, and last, the firm resolution taken by Roger to be revenged upon his wife, if, as he believed, his wife had been concerned in his imprisonment. Crette could but repeat what he had written of Sylvandire's disappearance, his own quarrel with 344 SYLVANDIRE. Monsie\u' de "Royancourt, and his certainty that the ■wife liei'self liad brouglit to liglit the unfortunate songs that liad been, if not the cause of his imprisonment, at leaat the pretext for it. As to Roger's release, it was due, as the prisoner had suspected, to the persistent elforts of Crette, d'Herbigny, and Chastellux, especially of the last, who was dis- tantly related to Monsieur d'Argenson through the women of the family, — a relationship which he had until then almost denied, and to wliich he began to lay claim as soon as it was likely to prove serviceable to Eoger. Yet, when Monsieur de Eoyancourt found matters so far advanced that there were no means left of prolonging Roger's captivity, from persecutor as he had been, he became defender, and, as his influence was real, he had hastened the prisoner's release. The rest is known. All that Crette told his friend accorded so well with, what he had twenty times repeated to himself, that he did not for a moment doubt that they had arrived at a most accurate estimate of cause and effect. Realizing that they must meet only on urgent occa- sion, the two friends parted with renewed assurances of their undying friendship which, for that matter, had been sufficiently tested for them to be able to count upon each other. Yet, for the entire acquittal of his conscience, morally convinced though Roger was, he wished to gain possession of material proofs that would admit of no appeal on the part of the voice of doubt, which, at the bottom of his heart, still clamored at times. " Perhaps — " In his cell he had learned to think without speaking. Thus far, he had put into faithful practice the enforced THE CHEVALIER SETS FIRE TO HIS HOTEL. 345 lesson. No one had a suspicion of what was passing in the depths of his soul. He began, therefore, to act. He summoned Breton. Breton was a faithful servant and one on whom he could rely. Questioned as to Monsieur de Eoyan court, Breton replied that during the chevalier's absence the marquis had come every day to the h6tel, and that his visits had ceased only on the day of Madame d'Anguilhem's disappearance. Now it became clear to Roger that, had his dear wife cherished the laudable purpose of setting out to find him, she would not have failed to inform her household, whereas, Monsieur de Eoyancourt himself had admitted to Roger that, on going away, Sylvandire had said nothing to any one. Madame d'Anguilhem had, a month before vanishing, dismissed a maid that had served her for ten years. To Roger this seemed very suspicious, since jMade- moiselle Clarisse was a person whose faithfulness and efficiency were too remarkable for her to be sent away without reason, and on the eve of undertaking alone a fatiguing journey. Roger hoped to extract something from Sylvandire herself; but when, hypocrite even in love, he in turn tried to learn from his wife how she had employed her time in his absence, there were endless affectations and coquettish refusals to tell. It was substantially im- possible to prove that she had resided in any place whatever. Sylvandire merely admitted having spent two months in the Convent des Filles-Dieu, which, it is true, was a convent widely renowned for the austerity of its rules, but one where Monsieur de Royancourt, Madame de Maintenon's friend, came and went at will, 346 SYLVANDIRE. his sister being the superior and liis cousin the treasurer of the convent aforesaid. To seek information at the Filles-Dieii wouhl he procL^iining aloud his diatrust; hence liogor signified his faith in all that was told him, and in turn assured Sylvandire that convent life had greatly enhanced her beauty. They continued, withal, to live as a model houseliold. More frequently than ever Roger greeted Monsieur Boutcau with the allectionate appellation of father-in-law, and heaped upon Monsieur de Koyancourt the most friendly courtesies. Those of his friends who did not know, as Crett^ did, that all this tenderness concealed something enig- matical, mysterious, tragic perhaps, sneered not a little when the conversation turned upon the young couple's unsophisticated fondness for each other. Nor in cer- tain circles, as will readily be understood, did they fail to make merry at the expense of Madame d'Anguilhem, the virtuous Penelope who, instead of awaiting her Ulysses, had gone in search of him, no one knew where, but certainly where he was not. Meanwhile Roger had given Breton full power, and charged him to bribe any of Monsieur de Royancourt's people. One morning, while attending his master, Breton announced tliat the marquis' coachman, whom his master had ill-treated the day before, had consented to speak, for the sum of one hundred louis. Breton advised the chevalier to take advantage of the momen- tary dissatisfaction. The chevalier followed Breton's advice. He sent the coachman a hundred louis, and this is what he learned the same day from the mouth of the knave himself. Beginning witlt the date of Sylvandire's departure, THE CHEVALIER SETS FIRE TO HIS HOTEL. 347 Monsieur de Royancourt had every niglit after supper visited the little hamlet of Luzarclies, sometimes on horseback, sometimes by carriage. He spent four or five hours there; and regularly at two o'clock in the morning, he took the road back to Paris, where he arrived at four. He then went to bed and feigned not to have been away from home. By way of additional precaution, his carriage returned to the hotel at mid- night, and the household — with the exception of the coachman who knew that he sent the carriage back empty, and the valet de chambre who sat up for Monsieur de Eoyancourt until four o'clock in the morning — supposed that the master had returned. Roger was on their track. He resolved to follow to the other extremity this clew, of which he held one end in his hand. Consequently, he set off himself for Luzarches. There he began his inquiries, and learned that a young woman had come and established herself in a house in Avhich she lived alone. A nun attended her. A man, whose name they did not know, but who was of very distinguished appearance, came to see her every evening. Sylvandire was described with absolute accu- racy, and the portrait of Monsieur de Royancourt was so like him that there was no mistaking it. Another than Roger would have made a disturbance, would have challenged Monsieur de Royancourt to a duel, or had him assassinated by a couple of ruffians in some corner. But for the disturbance, there was For-l'Eveque, for the duel, the Bastile, and for the assassination, a mode of vengeance, which, however, did not even enter Roger's head, — there was the rack. All that, therefore, was no revenge, since such 348 SYLVAXDIRE. revenge brought its own piinisliment. What Roger required was a revenge tliat left hiiu free, happy, and yet avenged. Besides, his hatred was concentrated especially upon Sylvandire. It was Sylvandire who had betrayed him; it was Sylvandire whom he had loved; it was Sylvan- dire who had given liim a moment's hai)piness; it was Sylvandire whom he hated so cruelly that he feared he loved her still. From the hour that Roger bad resolved upon revenge, he had determined what that revenge should be. He therefore returned to the plan stored in a corner of his brain, where lie had placed it for use when the time came. His soul, it must be said, from the date of his release from prison, was nothing else than a stormy sea whose vast waves rose high and died away. Like tempests brooded his thoughts, athwart which, from time to time, gleamed a good motive with lightning- like flash, but as quickly also it expired. Now sure of his luihappiness, now certain of having been duped, he felt strong and considered himself justified. It was necessary, first of all, that Roger should ascertain to a certainty that he no longer loved this accursed woman, lest the execution of his project should be arrested by one of those heart pangs that are mis- taken for twinges of conscience. We have said, and we repeat, that Roger so bated Sylvandire as not yet to be sure that he did not love her. Therefore, one by one, he analyzed his feelings toward Sylvandire. When he came upon her without warning, there was a keen shock of the heart, a deep pain, a sudden chill, something like the cold sensation of a lancet's blade THE CHEVALIER SETS FIRE TO HIS HOTEL. 349 piercing a vein. At such times, in spite of his self- control, Roger grew pale, and the blood rushed back upon his heart. The next moment his gorged heart would expel the blood with such violence as to cause a giddiness that made him think he was about to be ill. Yet, in the midst of all these sensations, so varied, so conflicting, so convulsive, he must live his ordinary life, must converse indifferently, must smile graciously. It was torture more cruel perhaps than that of the prison at Chalon-sur-Saone. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, startled out of a dream in which he thought himself still a prisoner on a wretched pallet in an infectious cell, Roger would wake with bounding heart, panting breast, and his hair standing on end, to find himself softly couched under silken canopies in a room voluptuously lighted by an alabaster lamp, and there, sleeping tranquilly beside him, would be Sylvandire, that glowing siren, that enticing enchantress, who, under a marvellous exterior, concealed such a hideous entity. Then he would rise on his rigid arm, gaze at her with eyes fixed, searching, and deadly, and recall that story of Galland's, which had just appeared and was creating such a furor, the tale of a man who had married a vampire, and who saw her return to the conjugal couch after her mon- strous feast in a graveyard. Meanwhile, Sylvandire was dreaming a pleasant dream, breathing an amorous sigh, and disclosing in a voluptuous smile the white enamelled teeth beneath her coral lips. Then would Roger be seized with a fierce desire to stifle the woman in a loving embrace, and receive with his own mouth her last sigh, that, her life having been another's, her death, at least, should be his. But he 350 SYLVANDIRE. carried out only the first pait of his design. Tlis lieart failed liiiu for the second. As for Sylvandire, so confident was she of her power over Itoger that her days were happy and lier niglits peaceful. Never had she chanced to surprise the fierce look that enveloped and held her unwittingly; hut, it must bo said, never hy word or gesture did Koger betray himself. Monsieur de Royancourt continued to visit the hotel; but he was visibly becoming disenchanted. " Naturally," said Koger to himself, following up the cooling process as he had followed tlie course of their love, " naturally, possession has brouglit indifference." And he redoubled his own attentions to Sylvandire, who, on her side, impelled by a sense of guilt, returned her husband's caresses with forced ones in such measure that, aside from the madness of revenge by which he was possessed, E-oger was really quite happy. Sylvandire was very guarded, and yet it one day happened that, tired of having waited in vain expecta- tion of Monsieur de Royancourt for nearly a wliole week, without his deigning to send her even a message, she wrote a very reproachful little note, and rang for one of her own people to have it sent by her confidential attendant. But Madame d'Anguilhem's servants had gone out, and it was Breton that answered her bell. As Sylvan- dire was holding the letter in her hand, she dared not postpone sending it. Besides, Breton announced liim- self as quite unoccupied at the time, and suggested to Madame d'Anguilhem that he himself undertake her commission. To refuse was, plainly, to give the valet grounds for suspicion. She put on a bold face, there- fore, handed Breton the letter, and said indifferently, — THE CHEVALIEE SETS FIRE TO HIS HOTEL. 351 " To be taken immediately to the IMarquis de Royancourt. " Breton was ascending to change his dress when he met his master on the stairs. He therefore displayed the letter of which he was the bearer, with a question- ing glance as to whether he should carry it to its destination. Eoger was about to yield to temptation and take it, when he heard behind a door the rustle of a satin robe. He knew that Sylvandire was spying. " A letter from madame to Monsieur de Eoyancourt," said the valet. "Very well; deliver it at once," answered Roger, " and say to the marquis for me that it is unkind of him thus to neglect us; that I have not seen him for eight days ; that I am highly indignant at such indiffer- ence, and that I forgive him only on tlie condition that he comes to dine with us this very day. " "But, monsieur," said Breton. " Quite right, quite right, go, my friend, go," pursued Roger. " I am not needing you at present." Then he descended ten or twelve steps, and, to Breton's great amazement, entered Sylvandire's room. "It was very good of you, my dear," said he, as he drew down his ruffles, and arranged the folds of his jabot, " very good of you to send for dear Roj'ancourt. I wish him to taste the roe that my father has sent us from Anguilhem. " Sylvandire, who, in this brief space, had turned red, white, yellow, all the colors of the rainbow in short, collected her wits and resumed her smile, " What a delightful husband I have!" thought she, kissing Roger on both cheeks, " What a weak master I have the misfortune to 352 SYLVANDIRE. serve!" said Breton to himself. "Would any one suppose this to l^e the same gentleman that gave Mon- sieur de Kollinski such a terrible sword-thrust at his first affair? Mere luck!" At dinner-time, Monsieur de Royancourt was announced. The double invitation that he had received had touched him undoubtedly, for he was excessively friendly. As for Sylvandire, she was radiant. Iloger observed them not too closely, was witty without being caustic, and animated without seeming forced. At dessert, he surprised some very expressive glances exchanged between his wife and their guest. Soon after they had risen from the table, and as they were passing into the salon for coffee, he saw the marqiiis, who was escorting Sylvandire from the one room to the other, slip a note into her hand. Sylvan- dire concealed it in her bosom. "Shameless woman, impudent rascal! " muttered Roger. " I could kill them both where they stand ! " But he controlled himself, and only a lace frill at liis wrist was the worse for it. He tore it into bits. He must secure that note. It was a very difficult thing to accomplish, but a very essential one. Iloger thought about it the entire evening; then he believed he had found a way. The success of his scheme depended on calculating the probable moment when Sylvandire would seek to learn the contents of the note. "It will undoubtedly be this evening at her toilet," he said to himself. During the whole evening he did not for an instant lose sight of Sylvandire. He assured himself that she had not had a moment in which to read the billet in question, and, after Monsieur de Royancourt had gone, THE CHEVALIER SETS FIKE TO HIS HOTEL. 353 he concealed himself in the salon adjoining his wife's dressing-room. He then listened until he heard her enter, and when he divined that she must he in the act of reading, he set fire to the curtains at one of the windows. Quickly the flames leaped to the ceiling, and a few panes of glass broke. "Fire! fire!" shouted Roger, And he rushed headlong into the boudoir. Sylvandire still held Monsieur de Royancourt's note in her hand. She made a movement to hide it; but, on seeing the wreaths of flame and smoke that filled the salon, she drew back, gave a shriek, and lost consciousness. Roger opened her fingers, while the salon burned, and rapidly read as follows : — " Let us forget the past, Sylvandire ; often have I re- pented of what we have done. As for your proposition, to flee together and leave France, it is madness, and I reject it ; besides, I begin to be ashamed of deceiving, as we are doing, an honest man who overwhelms me with kindnesses. Therefore, if you take my advice, Sylvandire, we shall sever all connection. You say tliat you are dying for love of me ; live for the husband who adores you, it would be more Christian-like." "Well, well, you twofold idiot!" said Roger to himself. " Will you now hesitate 1 " And he replaced the note in Sylvandire 's hand, still cold and lifeless. Then, closing the door of the boudoir, he rang for Breton. The fire had consumed the curtains, caught in the window-ledge, and scorched the wainscoting; but, no longer finding easily assimilated food at hand, it licked its feeble tongues along the casings and curled about the wooden balustrades. 23 354 SYLVANDIIIE. The entire liutel was on foot in an instant, and ten minutes later there was neither fire nor smoke. Quito alone, Sylvandire came to herself, recognized that she Avas in her boudoir, found the note crumpled in her hand, believed that Roger had discovered noth- ing, and, quite jubilant at having escaped safe and sound from the doubly tlireatening disaster, issued forth to mingle with tlie workers. As soon as Roger saw her, he hastened to her side. " Ah, mon Dieu ! my darling Sylvandire, what a misfortune ! Your room is quite spoiled. It was so fresh, so bright! The repairing will debar us from receiving for a month at least." " Well, my dear," said Sylvandire in the sweetest of tones, " let us go to Champigny." " To Champigny ? " repeated Roger. " Yes. Do you dread the memories the place will recall ? " Roger opened his mouth to say, " And why not to Luzarches?" but he checked himself. " Assuredly not, " he said aloud. " And you know how precious to my heart are the memories that would recur to me in the house that you have rendered so dear; but to my mind, if you were as given to adventure as you are adorable, we Avould take a thousand pistoles and go off by ourselves, like two fond 'lovers, on a visit to that beautiful Provence whose airs you sing so marvellously to your harpsichord." "Oh! my dear," said Sylvandire, making a charm- ing little face, " would not such a journey be too long ? " "Very well, very well, dear! Let us say no more about it; it shall be just as you wish." But Sylvandire was too pleased at having escaped THE CHEVALIER SETS FIRE TO HIS HOTEL. 355 detection to Le obstinate in her refusal. Besides, she decided that by going away she was likely to wound the pride of Monsieur de lloyancourt who had just wounded her love, and, as she desired to avenge herself on the faithless one, she returned to Koger's proposition. " Xo, dear, no," said she. "I will not deprive you nor deprive myself of such a pleasure; and besides, I have resolved to devote myself to pleasing you. Com- mand, then, I am yours to obey." Roger restrained the triumphant joy that filled his breast. He made all his preparations; but, notwith- standing the haste he made. Monsieur de Royancourt and Sylvandire were reconciled during the interval. Hence, one fine morning, the marquis proposed to the chevalier and his wife that he should accompany them to Provence. This was not to Roger's mind. Nevertheless, he appeared to hail Monsieur de Royancourt's proposition with delight; but he invented a business pretext, by means of which he postponed their departure. He hoped that meanwhile a fresh quarrel would arise which would bring about another falling out. He was not deceived. Roger intercepted a second note from Monsieur de Royancourt, in which he announced to Sylvandire that, in order that their rupture might not this time be subject to the usual opportunities for reconciliation, he was on the very eve of departure for Utrecht. Sylvandire endeavored in vain to conceal her vexa- tion. Roger could follow its progress in her face and heart. On the very day of Monsieur de Royancourt's departure for Holland, she first resumed the subject of .their journey through Provence. 356 SYLVA.NDIRE. "Oh! on my soul," groaned Roger within himself. " I am playing the most ridiculous and the most revolt- ing of all roles; but, thank God! we are nearing the end." He then seized with alacrity upon his wife's over- ture, and, as every preparation had long before been completed, on the next day, the first of June, 1713, the young couple left Paris, as loving, apparently, as two turtle-doves. A CHARMING EXCURSION TO PROVENCE. 357 XXVI. HOW ROGER AND SYLVANDIRE MADE A CHARMING EXCURSION TO PROVENCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. EoGER had played his little part so well, in the words of King Charles IX. of Catholic memory, that up to the very moment of his departure everybody was talking of his love for his wife. Every one took him seriously, even d'Herbigny, even Clos-Renaud, even Chastellux, and it was said on all sides that, although the king had been unable to regulate Richelieu's household by means of the Bastile, the Chateau de Chalon-sur-Saone had served the great monarcli's ideas of matrimony a better turn in the case of the Chevalier d'Anguilhem. Even Crette himself was his friend's dupe, and gave credence to the public rumor. He knew what a beautiful and persevering woman could accomplish, and, whenever he saw Mademoiselle Poussette, he recommended her to study Sylvandire as the model of a great coquette. "Look at his wild schemes of vengeance, — all still- born," he said. "Poor Roger! he wished to kill every- body, and here he is now doing anything but that. However, perhaps it is the wisest course; but certainly the chevalier's example will not lead me to surrender ray liberty." While all Paris was engaged in conversation of this sort, Roger and his wife were on their way to the South ; two days after setting out they were passing through Chalon. The chevalier desired to observe what effect the sight of the prison in which he had been confined 358 SYLVANDIRE. would have on his wife. He therefore conducted her to tlie castle walls. " Well, " demanded Sylvandire, after having two or three times looked first at the walls and then at him, " why do you wish me to see this horrible building 1 " " Because it is where I spent eleven montlis while you were searching all the world over for me, darling," an- swered Roger. Sylvandire made a charming little motie which meant, — "Goodness! however amiable the governor, one could not find it very entertaining in that place." " Yes, yes," said Roger, in answer to his wife's thought; " yes, I sufTered much there, but more from our separa- tion than from my imprisonment." " And we were so far from suspecting it," was Sylvan- dire's response. The " we " struck Roger as charming. On the following day, Roger and Sylvandire reached Lyons, where they stayed two or three days. In his constant solicitude for Sylvandire, Roger would not per- mit her to become fatigued. During these two or three days, Roger and Sylvandire made a pilgrimage to Notre Dame de Fourvieres, tlie most famous of all the madonnas of France for preserving perfect harmony in families where it exists, and restoring it to those from which it has departed. On the part of Sylvandire and Roger, this, of course, was an unnecessary precaution: they loved each other devotedly, they anticipated no diminishing of their mu- tual affection. After a stay similar to the one they had made at Chalon, the couple quitted the second capital of France, and halted successively at Valence, Orange, and Avignon. At Avignon, especially. How could one pass by A CHAKMIXG JOURNEY TO PROVENCE. 359 Avignon and fail to visit the fountain of Yaucluse? That would have been high treason against poetry. Now, in those days, lovers Avere very fond of poetry, and especially fond of nature; they loved hill, valley, and stream. See " Astree " and " Cleoputre." They therefore made a pilgrimage to the fountain of Vaucluse, just as they had made one to Notre Dame de Fourvieres, and all the way Roger kept calling Sylvan- dire his dear Laura, and Sylvandire addressed Eoger only as her handsome Petrarch. Beggars to whom they gave alms along the road shed tears at sight of the beautiful pair. They continued their journey and came to Aries. They desired to see the ruins of the city which at one time disputed with Byzantium the title of queen of the world. Save for the mistral, according to the savants, Aries was Constantinople. But there was just then much less interest in antiquity than in an event that had happened within a fortnight. A worthy bourgeois of the town of Aries, whose mis- fortune it had been to take unto himself a wife with a character the very opposite, it seemed, of his own, un- able to endure the daily annoyances due to their clashing temperaments, resolved for his part to become a wid- ower. But to become a widower would avail nothing, unless he could achieve his purpose in such a way as to be shielded from the rigors of the law. Now, here is the expedient to which that worthy Arlesian resorted to attain his end. On the banks of tlie Bhone he had a country house very TOUch liked by his wife, whose custom it was to spend all her Sundays there. The means of transportation usually employed by the lady upon these occasions was a charm- ing little mule, appropriately caparisoned, and of which, 360 SYLVANDIRE. as the country-side said, as much care was taken as of the pope's. What did the murderer do 1 For the three days preceding the accustomed journey, he deprived the poor animal of all drink; it followed that, on Sunday morning, accompanied by her husband, who, for once, wished to be of her party, the dame set out, riding her mule. The latter, constantly on the lookout for water, had no sooner caught sight of the Rhone, than she broke into a run that nobody could check, and dashed into the flood with the speed of a stag as it leaps into a stream when hard pressed by a pack of hounds. Fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader cliooses to adopt tlie point of view of husband or wife, the Khone was at that point so swift that both dame and mule were swept away by the torrent; and, again fortunately or unfortunately, the water, being as deep as it was swift, both very soon disappeared beneath tlie waves, while the husband, chained to the bank undoubt- edly by grief, raised a great hue and cry, tossing his arms and shouting for help in the hope that no help would come. His hope was realized. The wife and mule were drowned together. The liusband regretted the mule; but great causes demand great sacrifices. However, the affair had made such a noise that justice bestirred itself. The husband was summoned to appear in court; but he had seemed so disconsolate, he had shed so many tears over the death of his consort, that, in the ab- sence of evidence, the judge had set him at liberty. Sylvandire was deeply moved by the poor woman's fate, and lioger declared, in his indignation, that if the man were not a clown he would seek him out and de- mand satisfaction for his infamous conduct. And they hastened to leave the unfortunate town, and the next day arrived at Marseilles. A CHARMING JOURNEY TO PROVENCE. 361 As this was the goal of their journey, they made arrangements to stay for a time at a hotel. On the very day of their arrival, they went for a stroll on tlie Can- nebiere and the Allees de Meilhan, everywhere making open display of their affection, as evinced by the most extravagant endearments. People took them for a recently wedded pair enjoying their honeymoon, and they gazed in admiration. In the hotel where they stayed, among the people whom they met, everywhere, in short, favorable com- ment was made upon this fortunate pair. " What a handsome man, and how his wife adores him ! " exclaimed the women. All Marseilles was talking of Roger and Sylvandire. One day, Roger, who had gone out alone in the early morning, returned to their rooms and told his wife that toward noon they would go to pay a visit to a Sardinian broker through whom he had just disposed of a trouble- some piece of property. On Sylvandire's asking what toilet would be suitable for the occasion, Roger replied, — " The handsomest you have, my dear. I wish this stranger to report in his own country that in all his travels he has seen no woman more beautiful than you." Such advice Sylvandire always followed with an alacrity that did credit to her conjugal obedience. Her beauty, moreover, enhanced by elegant laces and flash- ing diamonds, was truly supernatural, and when she entered her chair, the bearers themselves were dazzled. The Sardinian lived in the Rue du Paradis. He was a tall old man whose beard was gray and pointed, as worn in the time of Cardinal Richelieu by Jew, Greek, Arab, everybody, in short, Sardinian excepted, and he spoke all tongues. He seemed to be impatiently awaiting 362 SYLVANDIRE. his two visitors; with brightening countenance ho hastened forward to meet them. Sylvandire's beauty seemed to electrify all who came near her. Nothing breeds confidence like success. Sylvandire observed the effect that she produced; she was adorably gracious and amiable. Like a gallant husband, and to show to advantage the treasures of his wife's intellect, Roger turned the conversa- tion sometimes upon trivial, sometimes upon grave, topics. Sylvandire supported Boileau's test, and passed with perfect ease " from grave to gay, from lively to severe." Roger swelled with pride ; from time to time he would give the Sardinian a significant nod which might be taken to mean, — " You see that I told you the truth." And the broker would reply with a look that clearly meant, — " She is a woman such as one seldom sees. " Roger begged Sylvandire to speak Italian, and for half an hour Sylvandire engaged in conversation in the Tuscan idiom and with a Roman accent. Roger begged Sylvandire to play something on the harpsichord, and Sylvandire played a bit from the opera of " Orphee, " and sang to her own accompaniment. The strains terminated in the midst of applause, and the listeners exchanged nods and smiles afresh. The Sardinian whispered a few words in Roger's ear. " Oh ! as to that, " replied the chevalier, " it is impos- sible! and I fear that madame would never consent, whatever my entreaties." " Why, what is monsieur saying, dear ? " asked Sylvandire. "Nothing," answered Roger. " But what is it ? " A CHAKMING JOURNEY TO PROVENCE. 363 "He requests an impossibility." "What is it?" " He says that he has seen the Spanish gypsies dance, the almchs of Egypt and the bayaderes of India. " "Well?" " And he pretends — " "What?" " He is convinced that you surpass them all in grace, and he is sure that if you would dance a minuet or a gavotte — " " Oh ! " exclaimed Sylvandire. " There, I told you so, my dear," returned Roger; " it is not to be thought of." "Yet, my love," said Sylvandire, not wishing to stop on the high road to coquetry and conquest, " if I had some one to go through the figures with, I would will- ingly dance a minuet." " Here , take me, " cried the old Sardinian. " Very well, " said Roger, " and I will supply the music." And he struck up the air of the minuet of " Exaudet, " while Sylvandire, with her grotesque partner, executed its figures with ravishing grace and precision. Sylvandire's success rose to a triumph. " How old is madame ? " inquired the merchant in tones of profound admiration. "Nineteen years, seven months, and fifteen days," re- plied Roger, " not yet twenty years old, monsieur, not twenty years old! " " You did not say a word too much, my dear mon- sieur," returned the Sardinian; "and your eulogies of madame have, I must admit, fallen below the trutli." " Ah ! monsieur ! " exclaimed Sylvandire, casting a grateful glance at her husband. 364 SYLVANDIRE. " No, upon my word, " proceeded the broker with a leer, " you are the most charming lady I have ever met, a truly Oriental beauty, a pearl of the seraglio, a veri- table houri, a priceless woman." " It seems to mc, dear Roger, that I am very gallantly complimented in your presence," affectedly remarked Sylvandire. " No, dear, " returned Roger ; " you are worthily appre- ciated, that is all." Thereupon they took their leave; but, as he was showing them out, the Sardinian invited the couple to breakfast with him, tlie next morning, on board of a tar- tan riding at anchor off the harbor. Besides the break- fast, there would be the sport of fishing; it was the season of the year for sardines. A pleasure party so novel seemed enchanting to Syl- vandire, who was accepting cordially, but on ^ observing that Roger made no response, she turned uneasily toward him. "Well," she asked, "why are you silent? Would you refuse 1 " " No, my dear ; but I have my fears." "Fears! and of what?" " That you may not prove to be a good sailor." " Oh ! there is no danger. " " Then you wish to join this fishing excursion ? " " I am dying to do so. " " Your will is law." " Delightful husband that you are ! " " Very well, then, my dear host, " said Roger, " expect us to-morrow." " To-morrow, " repeated Sylvandire. " To-morrow, " echoed the Sardinian. On the morrow, at the appointed hour, they were at A CHARMING JOUEXEY TO PROVENCE. 365 the Sardinian's. A neat and handsome little shallop awaited them at the quay a short distance above the custom-house. All three got into it and they were taken out to the tartan, which was moored off the Chdteau d'If. It was a beautiful vessel, built for speed, and it skimmed the waters like a sea-bird. It was commanded by a captain thirty or thirty-five years old, who was noticeable for his Oriental face and his foreign costume. The captain spoke only Italian, which afforded Sylvan- dire fresh opportunity for displaying her linguistic talent. He had magnificent eyes, a Grecian nose, and teeth like pearls. They breakfasted heartily. They saw the nets drawn in, breaking with the weight of the fisli, and they agreed forthwith to be present at the torchlight fishing on the next night. As they went back to their lodgings, Sylvandire was tireless in her praises of the captain; how handsome he Avas, how strong, how brave, what a loftj'^ style of expres- sion he had, how luxurious had been his entertainment of his guests, how obedient his crew at a word, a gesture. a sign " Most assuredly, " said Sylvandire as they walked along the quay, " that man is above his station. " " Most assuredly, " answered Eoger. The next morning Roger went back to the Sardinian's; on his return, he found his wife laughing and dancing quite alone. "Good!" said he, "she is in love with the captain already." They were not to start until six o'clock in the after- noon. Every ten minutes Sylvandire glanced at the clock; she would have liked to turn the hands forward. Roger 36 G SYLVANDIRE. smiled Ijilterl}^ aiul shook liis head; but Sylvandire was not tliiuking of liogcr. At tlio monieiit of embarking came tlio permit from the inspector of the port. Koger asked the Sardinian if they would have good weather. " Superb, " answered Sylvandire. ]>ut the Sardinian winked very significantly, as if to say, " Never fear, we shall have the sort of weather we need. " They entered a small boat, and, as they were rowing against the wind, they advanced very slowly. As a result, night came on, and they were still only off the lie de I'ommegue. During the passage, great clouds had gathered on the horizon, and were rolling in like a tide ; then they surrounded the moon, which, losing itself amid their cottony billows, seemed like an island of fire ; but, little by little they drcAV it within their dense folds and extinguished its light. The sea itself was threatening, and dashed noisily against the rocks and the shore. Through the darkness, long streaks of phosphorescent foam were seen speeding like trails of fire. " Hon Dieu ! " cried Sylvandire, " it seems to mo that we are going to have a storm." " What do you say to the weather, my dear host, " inquired Roger of the Sardinian. " Fine weather for feezing ! fine weather for feezing ! " answered the latter, with a mocking look which Sylvan- dire caught, and which frightened her. " What do you mean, monsieur ? " she asked, shrink- ing back against Roger. Roger shuddered at the touch of this woman whom he had loved so well, and whom perhaps he still loved. Mechanically he drew away. " I am afraid, " said Sylvandire. A CHAEMING JOURNEY TO PROVENCE. 367 Hogor did not speak, and he let his head fall into his two hands. The Sardinian at that moment lighted a torch, and, rising, he waved it for some time in tlie air, and then he extinguished it. Tlie wind moaned in melancholy gusts; it sounded like the wailing of human souls. Suddenly, a flash illumined the heavens, and by its light the tartan was seen tacking about, only five hundred feet away. Presently, they descried something advancing through the gloom ; it was a yawl manned b}' five men. Two men were rowing; two men were standing in the bow; the fifth was sitting in the stern. In the last, Sylvandire recognized the captain of the tartan. But the face that she had deemed so handsome the day before, she now thought stamped with a sinister expression. " Come alongside ! " shouted the captain in Italian. And tlie two boats lay side by side. " Moil Dleic ! " exclaimed Sylvandire, judging from the expression of the new-comers' faces that they had nothing to do, as she had supposed, with a pleasure party, " Mon Dieuf what is the matter? What are they going to do 1 " She had barely uttered these words when both oars- men and the two men in front boarded their boat; and while the two oarsmen seized, or pretended to seize, Roger, the others took Sylvandire in their arms and bore her away. "Roger!" she cried, " Eoger ! help! help! save me, "Roger! save me, save your Sylvandire!" Instinctively and mechanically Eoger sprang up; but 368 SYLVANDIRE. the two men held him fast. True, had Roger wished, he could have taken one in each hand and hurled both together into the sea. Mean wl die, white with terror, Sylvandire was taken from the boat into the yawl. "Roger, Roger!" she essayed to cry once more. "Roger, help! I am dying!" And she lost consciousness. As Sylvandire's voice died away in its last appeal, Roger was forced to recall all the hardships that he had endured, all the dishonor that had been heaped upon him, all the shame that he had suffered, to refrain from leaping into the yawl and snatching her from the hands of those men. He lifted his head, and he let it fall again between his hands. " Push off! " cried the Sardinian. The captain took Sylvandire from the arms of the men that had kidnapped her, the oarsmen sprang to their oars, and the yawl moved swiftly away. " Addio, 2>adrone ! " shouted the captain. " Addio I " returned the trader, with the malicious little laugh peculiar to him. Roger sent a long look after Sylvandire. He could still see her white dress shining out in the night; and, as men and yawl were already lost to sight in the darkness, one might have fancied it a ghost gliding over the surface of the sea. But, in a few moments, it, too, had disappeared in the fog, and nothing more could be seen. The old man immediately seized the oars and began to row away from the yawl, and in the direction of the land, with a sturdiness that one would never have looked for in his thin and debilitated frame. A CHARMING JOURNEY TO TROVENCE. 309 " Well, " he said to Roger, after almost ten minutes of silence, and easing up the movement of his oars, " well, now you are free, monsou le sevalier. Have matters gone as you wished, and are you satisfied with us? " " Yes, " replied Roger, gloomily, " yes, I am free, thanks to a crime! " " Bah ! a crime ! " repeated the old man ; " you need not look at it so. It is a joke, that is all. Your lady is going straight to Tunis. The captain has orders from an Indian prince Avho wishes a French wife. You were tired of yours ; now both are suited. " Roger took a last look at the horizon and saw indeed, in a field of moonlight, the tartan speeding away into the Avhite fog in the direction of Tunis. " Come, " said the old man, " we must think of our- selves now, for we are nearing land. Rend your clothes quickly, wet yourself from head to foot in the sea-water, and Ave must break a bench or two of the boat." With respect to himself, Roger silently executed these orders, and, aided by the Avind Avhich became more and more threatening, they arrived in port at about one o'clock in the morning. As soon as the Sardinian came in sight of the Round ToAver, he set up such a clamor of sobs and groans and A'^ociferations that Roger Avas aroused from a horrible trance into Avhich he had fallen. "Opovero! o povero marito ! " he cried. " OJiime! oliime ! " These ejaculations, Avith all their changes rung in a variety of tongues, brought out the custom-house officials and their body of guards, Avith here and there a scatter- ing of belated citizens. " What is the matter ? " shouted the chief of the excise-men. 24 370 SYLVANDIKE. " The matter! You can ask wliat is the matter! Ahf che schiagure, such a beautiful woman I Oh ! die 'peccato ! " And, all the while the old man was venting his unin- telligible cries, the bark continued to advance. "But tell us what has happened!" cried the by- standers, Tlien, while landing, the old man declared tlmt just as they had reached the tartan where Roger, Sylvandire and himself were about to join a fishing party, a boat caught by a big wave had crashed into them, breaking the rudder and a bench, and the shock was so violent that Madame d'Anguilliera who was standing, had been pre- cipitated into the sea. The old man went on to say that Roger had immedi- ately jumped after his wife, but in vain. The sea was heavy, the night was black. The unfortunate Sylvan- dire had been seen no more. And you should have seen the Sardinian's frantic ges- ticulation, his mad pantomime! You should have heard him embellish his recital with all tlie amplifications of Italian rhetoric ! Six times Roger had dived. The Sardinian had endeavored to hold him back by his coat-skirt, but in vain; finally, when he was about to go down the seventh time, he had seized him round the waist, had mastered him and held him by main force, assuring him that his wife had been picked up by the other boat. At last Roger had fainted away and he himself, poor old man, had meanwhile brought the skiff into port. As for the men in the yawl, they had not been seen again nor did he know what people they were, the violence of the waves having instantly swept them out of sight. Monsieur d'Anguilhem was pitied; some of the by* A CHARMING JOURNEY TO PROVENCE. 371 stauders, more sympathetic than others, shed tears. He stood speechless, downcast, motionless. His dejection was taken for despair bordering on madness, and their interest in him was augmented by his forlorn attitude. Had he been poor, he would have been overwhelmed witli alms, the circumstances were so evident, his grief so real. Upon returning to his hotel, Roger shut himself up. His patron escorted him back, and narrated to every one the night's sad accident. Roger had given orders that he should be left alone with his grief ; and so no one entered his room except the Sardinian trader, who came the next morning at ten o'clock to learn how the bereaved husband had passed the night. Then each looked to the bolting of the door, and Roger counted out five hundred pistoles to the Sardinian ; in exchange for which, the latter presented him an official report signed by four known citizens of the place, setting forth in minutest detail the nocturnal misadventure which had caused Madame d'Anguilhem's death. The Chevalier d'Anguilhem despatched this official report to Maitre Bouteau, together with a letter full of chastened reflections. He also announced the loss of his well-beloved wife to the Marquis de Crette, d'Herbigny, Clos-Renaud, and Chastellux. Then he started for Anguilhem, where he arrived twelve days after Sylvandire's embarkment for Tunis. Now, let us frankly avow a fact which our readers have undoubtedly already guessed. The Chevalier Roger Tancrede d'Anguilhem had purely and simply sold his wife to a Tunisian corsair, whose agent in France was the Sardinian broker. It was not badly planned for a provincial. 172 SYLVANDIEE. XXVII. HOW TTIE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM LEARNED THAT HIS FATHER HAD NOT DELIVERED TO MADEMOI- SELLE DE BEUZERIE THE LETTER RESTORING HER FREEDOM, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. The Baron d'Anguilhem, it will readily be understood, "with his mingled love and respect for the chateau of his fathers, had not experienced such a change of fortune without thought of affecting a few changes for the better in his estate. The marriage over, his affairs with Roger settled, back at Anguilhem, in short, he had set about the great work that had so long engaged his mind, and which want of funds alone had kept him from undertaking. The first of these improvements had been a grand av- enue of sycamores, which he had laid out in front of his house, and which in these two years and a half had already become very handsome; moreover, between the trees had been set a hedge of elder and hazel. At the end of the avenue, which was nearly an eighth of a league in length, was seen to rise the manor of Anguilhem, enlarged by a story, which was itself surmounted by a belvedere pavil- ion, a fashion that was beginning to be introduced, even in the environs of Loches. Needless to say, in this architectural renovation, which lent the house a lordly little air that was delightful to behold, the famous tower of La Guerite had been scrupu- lously respected. Then, having enlarged his house, the baron bethought himself of extending his domains. He bought the famous THE CIIEVALIEK FINDS IIIS LETTER UNDELIVERED. 373 marsh, two leagues in extent, which offered nothing but fine snipe and duck hunting for winter, but wliich gave the estate the same stretch that the old barony had pos- sessed ; then, one after anotlier, he had bought up all the little woodlands that had so long been objects of covetous- ness with him, so that the baron was now able to speak of my woods, my marshes, my meadows, — a privilege which, to do him justice, he did not abuse. Finally, dependents were added in proportion to the estate. He had two farmers instead of one, three horses were in his stable, and among them figured Christopher, whom he had brought back with him from Paris, and who, like tlie old soldiers that fought at Steinkerke and Bergen-op- Zoom, was looked upon as a pensioner ; then, besides the two women, Mesdemoiselles Marie and Gothon, and the gamekeeper, Lajeunesse, he had two additional men servants. Nor have we made mention of the Abbe Dubuquoi, who, no longer needed as a tutor, was elevated to the rank of librarian, and who spent his time among the booksellers of Loches, extolling tlie two hundred and forty ill-sorted volumes that formed the utmost extent of his empire. Thanks to this establishment, beneath, however, rather than above his means, the Baron d'Anguilhem was con- sidered the richest landholder of the neighborhood. The three hundred thousand livres which he had re- tained out of Monsieur de Bouzenois' fortune brought him in, therefore, a million a year in bows, and bows that were the most sought after in the province. As for the baroness, she remained precisely the same, that is to say, the most perfect type of the excellent wife, the excellent mother. However, she had added to 374 SYLVANDIRE. tlie six gowns already in her possession, the two gowns that she had had made in Paris; but, upon great occa- sions, she still continued to make the pastry herself, which she did, moreover, to perfection, and to dry with her own hands the handsome Japanese plates that Roger had wiped so carefully. We have led back to Roger by this route, because, in the midst of their changed fortunes, the good father and the tender mother thought only of the son to whom they owed it all. When they were together, which happened often, the chevalier's name, uttered by the one or the other, was very certain to turn the conversation on the topic of this well-beloved son; and yet, it must be said, there were moments when the baron and the baroness accused Roger of ingratitude. This was because Monsieur and Madame d'Anguilhera had known nothing of Roger's imprisonment. Crette had rightly comprehended that the announcement of such news would prostrate them, and since they, confined in their province and possessed of no relative in Paris, could in no manner assist their son's friends in the steps they were taking, he had determined to spare them useless grief. He had therefore written them that the chevalier, having been charged with a secret mission, had set out for Holland, notifying them, in addition to this, that, as his place of residence must be concealed from all, they would probably receive no letter from him for a time, owing to the measure then recently adopted by the gov- ernment, and so happily continued even to our own day, of opening letters for the very innocent purpose of know- ing what they contained. They had, therefore, had no news of Roger for fifteen months, and this, thanks to Crette's letter, his parents had clearly understood; but what they had been quite unable to make out, on the other THE CHEVALIER FINDS HIS LETTER UNDELIVERED. 375 hand, was that Lochcs did not lie on the shortest route from Paris to The Hague. Upon his release from prison, Roger had written to Anguilhem; but, warned by Crette, he had maintained liis parents in error. His letter, as may be supposed, had been welcomed with delight. Yet, after so long an al> sence, they especially longed to see him. Invitations to come and spend a month at the Chateau d'Anguilhem had then succeeded each other with the unweariedness of maternal love ; but, in the midst of his grave purposes, Roger had not had time to attend to the claims of his good parents. When starting for Marseilles, Roger had at last written that lie was about to make a trip through Provence, and that he would return by way of Anguilhem, where he would stay a month or two. At once, all Avas put in readiness at the chateau to re- ceive the heir apparent, to feast the prodigal son. Men were set at work tipon the finest room in the house, and more furniture was ordered from Loches, in order that Madame d'Anguilhem should want for nothing on her arrival. Hence, when a chaise made its appearance at the end of the sycamore avenue, advancing with a smartness of pace that did not bespeak the province, a shout rang through the chateau : " The chevalier ! the chevalier ! " and all fell into line. The chaise came on at full speed. It stopped at the entrance. The door opened, and Roger fell into the arms of his father and mother, who wept tears of joy ; then from their arms he turned to those of his old tutor, the Abbe Dubuquoi. A few steps behind them stood the servants, the old drawn by their affection, and the new by curiosity. 376 SYLVANDIRE. 01(1 and new found the young master a very handsome lord. As for Castor, he was barking from the kennel, and bounding as if he would break his chain. After the first excitement, the baroness remembered that one of her children was missing. She glanced at the carriage, and, seeing it empty, she cried, — " And where is Madame d'Auguilhem ? " A vivid blush overspread Koger's covmtenance, and a tear that was not hypocritical fell from his eye. Let us hasten to say that only one fell. " I have met with a great misfortune, mother, " said Koger. " I have lost Madame d'Auguilhem. But let us go in; I will tell you about it." It would be difficult to convey to the reader an idea oi' the outcry of grief and amazement that met, in the salon, the recital of the catastrophe at Marseilles. The baroness thought herself about to faint away with grief, and fell to repeating like Geronte, — " What business had she to be in that vessel ? " However, Roger very soon consoled her, and, to accomplish the great miracle, he had needed only to take his mother aside and say to her these few words, — " God, who knows all, mother, knows that Madame d'Auguilhem did not make me happy, and, unfortunately, the world knows also that she has not always held our name in the respect which was its due ; her misfortune is therefore but a punishment." Forced to lie on many points, on this one, at least, Roger did not lie. It had been more than three years since Roger had seen Anguilhem ; but his absence had not been long enough for him to have forgotten anything. All its asso- ciations were still fresh in his heart, and every one of THE CHEVALIEE FINDS HIS LETTER UNDELIVERED. 377 them was connected with his love for IMademoisclle de Beuzerie. Older memories he had none; it seemed to him as if he had begun to live only on the day on which he first saw Constance. As we have said, the baroness had made ready the finest room in the chateau ; but Koger asked to sleep in his little room. It will be remembered that it was there that the young girl, whom he thought dead, had appeared to him, bidding him live. He approached the picture of Christ, knelt, as he had formerly been accustomed to do, and tried to recall his childish prayer; but, when he had prayed in those days, he was young, pure, full of illusions and of faith ; and above all he had not committed an act that, take it altogether, strongly resembled a crime. Roger went to bed ; but he lay there a long time with- out going to sleep. At last, sleep came, and dreams with sleep ; the picture seemed to be swinging back again as in his boyish vision ; but this time, not Constance appeared, but Sylvandire, who descended from the ped- estal and came, cold and icy, and lay down beside him. Three times Eoger awoke, and three times, on falling asleep again, did he dream the same dream. He rose in the morning at dawn, went himself to the stable and saddled Christopher, and, as he hoped to drive away the memory of Sylvandire by one more tender, he followed the road to the place where, on a certain Easter night, he had found Monsieur de Beuzerie's coach upset in the marsh, and had returned in triumph with Constance on this same Christopher who, after an interval of six years, was taking him back to the same spot. Roger recognized the place. It seemed to him that the event had happened but yesterday, and that all that had happened since was a dream. 375 SYLVANDIRE. At breakfast time, iu a calmer mood aiul a more tran- quil frame of mind, lloger returned to the cliiiteau. The reminiscences of morning had gained the better of the dreams of night; Constance had vanquished Sylvandire. During the breakfast, Roger inquired after the entire neighborhood; but, as is usual with people who think very much of one person, of that one he dared not say a word. He kept hoping that his father or his mother would pronounce the name of Mademoiselle de Beuzerie; but that name did not leave their lips. To tell the truth, however, Roger's impatience was not exempt from anxiety. Every moment, among the genealogical enumerations of the province, he was expect- ing to hear from his father's mouth these fatal words : — " By the way. Mademoiselle Constance de Beuzerie has married Monsieur de Croisey, " — or some other person. But, to Roger's great surprise, the baron and the baroness appeared to have a mutual understanding, and neither of them mentioned Constance. After breakfast, Roger mounted Christopher, who moved off with a very bad grace. He Avas beginning to think, having recognized in the chevalier a few old unre- linquished traits, that his love-chases were about to begin anew. Now, Christopher had grown older as well as the other people in this story. Christopher, in short, was six years older. This time, Roger pursued a route that the poor animal again recognized. It led to La Chapelle-Saint-Hippolyte, whither Roger and Constance had fled, and whose good cure had so scrupulously betrayed them. He hoped that the cure, on recognizing him, would inquire about Constance. Alas! the cure was dead, and his place was filled by another cure sent from Lorient. The new pastor had THE CHEVALIER FINDS IIIS LETTER UNDELIVERED. 379 never known Constance; there was no likelihood then of his mentioning Constance. As for the new cure's housekeeper, he had brouglit her with him from Lorient : there was then no chance of her knowing more than her master. Besides, she spoke nothing but low Breton, a language that Roger liad little knowledge of, albeit the savants have since discovered that it was the ancient Celtic tongue. Roger therefore returned to the chateau as ignorant as when he went away. The same silence was maintained at dinner. Roger, too, was silent and preoccupied; he ransacked every corner of his brain for some phrase by which he might broach that important topic. Finally, after a thousand circumlocutions which brought him no help from his parents, he ventured. " And — and — you say nothing about our ancient feud with the Beuzeries, father," he said, trying to smile. " It lias quite calmed down, and we are cruelly avenged," answered the baron. "Indeed! and how is that?" cried Roger, trembling in every fibre at the thouglit that perhaps Constance was dead or unhappily married. " Think of it, " replied the baron, the baroness mean- while regarding her son uneasily, " think of it, Constance is not married; she is still single." Roger shook like a leaf. He reddened and grew pale by turns. He essayed to rise from his arm-chair and fell back into his place. Then tears came to his eyes, and with a deep sigli he let his head sink upon his breast. " Yes, " said the baroness, " she has been in retirement now almost a year at the convent in Loches, and it is not quite certain that, in spite of her parents' opposition, she will not take the veil." 380 SYLVANDIRE. Now, when Roger tlioiight tliat he had lost C6nstance, he had wished to join the Jesuits. So, when Constance lost Roger, slie had desired to become a nun. God, then, is at the bottom of all true love. "Unmarried," thought Roger; "unmarried, and lov- ing me, doubtless, all the time! " " She, who was so proud, " said the baron, ignorant of what was passing in his son's mind. " You mean, " corrected tlie baroness, "whose parents were so proud; as for Constance, God knows that she was a dear, sweet girl, and I loved her as if I had been her mother." Roger thanked the baroness with a look. " And — and what did she say of my marriage ? " he hesitatingly continued. " 1' faith, I know nothing about it, " replied the baron with a slightly embarrassed air, " we have not seen the Beuzeries since your marriage." The conversation was dropped there ; but Roger grew more thoughtful than ever, and he rose from the table without having added another word. After dinner, Roger took his gun, unchained Castor, whose joy at going out with his old master restored for the moment all his ancient vigor, and he resumed his walks of other days in the direction of the warren ; but in three years how many days have rolled away, and with the days, how many events ! At every step of the way he was confronted by regret or remorse; behind every bush he dreaded to see Sylvandire and grieved tliat he did not see Constance. Roger's homecoming, however, was feted by all the country-side ; the depression occasioned by the death of the young baroness was not of long duration. Very few had known her. THE CIIEVALIEK FIXDS HIS LETTER UNDELIVERED. 381 Then there was another reason why the effect pro- duced by the accident recounted by Roger to his mother, and by his mother imparted to every one else, sliould make so brief an impression : as a widower, Roger was a marriageable man; Roger was twenty-two years old; Roger was handsomer than he had ever been, even in the days when he had been known as " handsome Roger " or " handsome Tancrede ; " in short, Roger possessed, not counting what would come to him at the death of his parents, that is, not counting his expectations, as they say in that infamous slang which is called the language of business men, Roger, we say, possessed in liis own right at the time the pretty income of fifty thousand livres. * Hence every mother began, little by little, to resume her cherished idea of a match between Roger and her daughter. Roger was the hero, therefore, of the chase, of balls and of fStes, but, alas ! he was a very melancholy hero. Yet, at these gatherings he sometimes saw a face still more melancholy than his own: it was the Vicomte de Beuzerie's. Roger avoided him, for the sight of that old man whose obstinate pride had been the chief cause of his sorrows, hurt him grievously, summoning up as it did a horde of bitter memories. One day, when hunting, he met the viscount near the very warren where, almost three years before they had so violently quarrelled, and where, later, when setting out full of hopes and illusions, Roger had taken leave of Constance. Monsieur de Beuzerie, who had at first crossed a clover-patch in order to avoid a meeting with the che- valier, changed his mind, and, going directly up to him, he said, — 382 SYLVANDIRE. " Monsieur d'Anguilhem, kindly tell mc yourself, that I may have it from your own mouth, whether or not you are married." " I am a widower, monsieur, " replied Koger, tremhling, "Then come with me, monsieur," rejoined the vis- count, " and you will save my family from despair. My daughter has gone into retirement at the Conception, she ■will not listen to us ; she insists that we have deceived her, that you are still single, that you have not released her from her promise, in short, that she can give herself only to you or to God ; and then, too, perhaps she has gone mad, for her mother and I are unable to account for her behavior during these last two years." Roger dropped his gun and stared at the baron like a man about to faint. " Alas ! alas ! " exclaimed tlie old man, moved even to tears, " all has been visited upon our own heads, Mon- sieur d'Anguilhem, and we are truly very unhappy." Roger felt that his knees were giving way beneath him. " Oh ! monsieur le vicomte, " cried he, " forgive me, forgive Constance. But I think I catcli a glimpse of the truth; before going with you, permit me to return to Anguilhem. I need to ask a word of explanation from my father; after that, I am entirely at your service. At what hour to-morrow do you desire to see me at Beuzerie 1 " " Wait for me, monsieur le chevalier, " answered the viscount, " and to-morrow in passing I will call for you." " I will wait for you. " " But, consider, this is no idle engagement. Monsieur d'Anguilhem. I count upon you ; I may count upon you, may I not 1 " he continued with kindly insistence, for he THE CIIEVALIEE FINDS HIS LETTER UNDELIVERED. 383 (lid not know whether the old insult that he had inflicted upon Roger were not still rankling in his young neighbor's heart. Roger made him a sign with both head and hand at the same time, and immediately set off along the road to Anguilhem, However, after he had gone a hundred paces, he turned and saw that the old man was sitting down, motionless, and with bowed head, like a statue of Resignation. Two hours later, Roger had reached Anguilhem, " Father," said Roger to the baron who was picking some apricots in the orchard, " father, did you not, then, deliver to Mademoiselle de Beuzerie the letter announcing my marriage, which I begged you to hand to her 1 " Monsieur d' Anguilhem, thus taken unawares, hesi- tated a moment in embarrassment. This confusion on the part of his father whom he pro- foundly respected seemed to Roger like a grievous reproach. Hence, instantly seizing the baron's hands with his own, he cried, — " Oh ! my dear father, be assured that whatever you have done was done for the best." " Well, no, my dear Roger, " said the baron, " I did not deliver it. You had not told me what the letter con- tained, and I must confess that, considering the delicacy of our position, I feared the unfortunate letter might do more harm than good." " And the letter 1 " " It is still upstairs." And the baron, followed by Roger, returned to the chateau, ascended to his room, drew from an oaken cabinet, where it had grown yellow, the fatal letter, elaborately sealed, and handed it to his son. " Oh ! I comprehend it all, now, " cried Roger ; " I 384 SYLVANDIEE. had told her to believe only my own words, spoken or written. She would believe nothing that did not come from me, she has all this time been waiting for me to make good my word; and she would have waited until death ! Oh ! noble being, how she loved me ! " Roger took tlie letter and went to his room, in order that, quite undisturbed, he miglit reflect upon past events, and perhaps also upon events to come. THE CHEVALIEK AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 385 XXVIII. HCW THE CHEVALIER d'anGUILHEM AND MADEMOI- SELLE CONSTANCE DE BEUZERIE FIND TBEMSELA'ES MORE IN LOVE THAN EVER, AND SOME OF THE PERPLEXITIES INTO WHICH ROGER IS THEREBY PLUNGED. Roger passed a very restless night. Again, in his dreams, he saw the picture turn, and this time it was Constance who appeared ; but, just as she was stepping down and approaching his bed, Sylvandire, Avith threat- ening attitude, rose between her and Roger, and, try as the unhappy young people might, they were ever unable to come near each other. However small Roger's faith in dreams might be, this Avas so like the actual state of affairs, and so mar- vellously prophetic that it left on his mind an impres- sion not yet dissipated when, about eight o'clock in the morning, Monsieur de Beuzerie arrived. The old gentleman was on horseback. Roger at once had Christopher saddled; for, since the day before, he had guessed that he was to accompany the viscount to the convent at Loches. Together they set off in the direction of the town. At times, as they rode along, the thought that he was to see Constance again would cause the chevalier such acute anguish of heart that he would suddenly rein in his horse and grow so pale as to look as if he were about to fall. Then Monsieur de Beuzerie would 25 386 SYLVANDIKE. himself stop and regard him anxiously; but Roger would at onco summon all his strength and proceed again. Soon Loches came in sight. Roger was conscious of nothing hut that, amid that mass of houses, was a house that enclosed Constance. Roger could think of nothing save that, in half an hour, in a quarter of an hour, in five minutes, he would he standing face to face with her whom he had not seen for nearly three years, and from whom, during those three years, he had tliought himself eternally separated. They entered the town; they entered the street. They knocked at the convent door. The attendant opened it. Monsieur de Beuzerie asked to see his daughter, and the attendant answered in the calmest of accents, — "Very well, monsieur le vicomte. Go into the parlor, and she will be summoned." The reply was very simple and very natural , yet it caused Roger to shiver. He was expecting to be told that Constance was no longer in the convent, or per- haps, as at Chinon, that Constance was dead. They entered. A nun showed Roger and the vis- count into the parlor, then left them alone. The viscount and Roger exchanged not a word with each other; but the father drew near the grating, while the young man stood back, almost hidden in the half light. At the end of a few moments the door opened, and Constance, dressed all in white, appeared and advanced to the grating slowly and with a foot-fall that seemed to make no sound. She was pale and wan, but more beautiful, more graceful than ever. One would have said that all that THE CHEVALIER AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 387 was earthly in her had been consumed by the fire of love, and that, of the suffering woman of this world, there remained but a blessed angel ready to wing its flight heavenward. But suddenly, on glancing beyond her father, Con- stance's eye met Roger's. She faltered and uttered a loud cry. Thinking her about to fall, Roger sprang toward her, and, thrusting his arms through the grating, he cried, — " Constance, Constance ! I know that you are an angel; but, perfect though you are, will you ever forgive me ? " " It is he! " exclaimed Constance. " It is indeed he." And, lifting her clasped hands to heaven, with upturned look, she said, — "0 God, I thank thee. I did well to believe. I did well to hope. He has come back to me." "But it is nevertheless true that he was married," said the Vicomte de Beuzerie, wishing to prove to his daughter that he had not deceived her. "Married!" repeated Constance. "Married! Roger, is it true 1 " "Alas!" said Roger. "I was forced to yield to necessity, and here is the letter that I wrote you at the fatal date, and which my father, inspired by God, I believe, failed to deliver." " Then why do you come here, Roger? " " To tell you that I am — free, and to thank you for your generous devotion." " Free, Roger! Did you say that you were free ? " " Yes," murmured Roger, in a scarcely audible voice. "Father," cried Constance, "let me leave this place! God, God, I who have begged for death, wish now, dear Lord, to live. Roger is free! " 388 SYLVANDIRE. Each tender word from the girl's lips was like a dagger-thrust in Roger's heart. Ho turned to Monsieur de Beuzerie, and begged for a few moments' conversation with Constance. The old man was so rejoiced to have his daughter, whom he thought forever lost, again restored, that he instantly granted Roger's request, and even left the parlor. The door had barely closed when Roger seized Constance's hand and covered it with kisses. " Constance ! " he said. " I was at the mercy of an unconquerable necessity. Tell me, do you truly forgive me ? " " I forgive you, and I love you, Roger, more than ever." Then, suddenly breaking off and covering her face with her hands, she cried, — " Oh ! wretch that I am ! I talk of my own happi- ness, Roger, and give not a thought to the soul of the poor dead woman whom I wrong, and who perhaps curses me." Roger felt a cold chill creep through his veins, and he gave a sigh. "You regret her, Roger," said Constance; "for undoubtedly she was beautiful, oh, more beautiful than I. That is not difficult to imagine, especially now; but oh, she did not love you as I love you. Of that I am very sure." "No, Constance," replied Roger. "But I ought at least to observe the proprieties. A certain length of time is obligatory for mourning." "Oh, yes, dear, yes, of course. Oh, with hope, waiting is nothing. It is the waiting in despair that kills. Now that you have come back to me after three years, I am sure of you, Roger." THE CHEVALIER AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 389 And she held out her hand to liim with the angelic trust that made her, all unconsciously, a woman sub- lime in resignation and devotion. Just then Monsieur de Beuzerie entered. The two young people regarded each other with a smile. They had said all they had to say, and yet it had been three years since they had seen each other. But so much is contained in the three words, " I love you," that when these have been spoken, all has been said; and if one would hear something new, they must be repeated. " Well, Constance, are you ready 1 " said the old man. Constance looked at Koger, as if to ask once more •whether it were indeed true that she was to leave the convent. "Yes, monsieur," said the chevalier to the Vicomte de Beuzerie. "Yes, mademoiselle consents to give us back all the happiness of which absence from her has robbed us." Constance pressed both hands upon her heart and drew a deep breath. Then her lovely eyes glowed with feeling, a sense of joy sent the blood to her cheeks, and she looked as radiantly beautiful as an angel. Yet Monsieur de Beuzerie and his daughter could not leave abruptly. That step would have looked exceedingly strange. Roger, on the other hand, could not remain. He therefore saluted Monsieur de Beuzerie and Constance, whose hand he kissed a last time. And, while father and daughter Avere taking leave of the superior and preparing for their departure, Roger, stung with remorse, the prey of conflicting emotions, returned alone to the Chateau d'Anguilhem. His mother saw him pass, his face distorted. On tiptoe she followed. She listened at the door of his room and heard him burst into sobs. 390 SYLVANDIRE. Sadly shaking her liead, like a poor woman who has some foreljoding of disaster, without knowing what is wrong, the dear dame returned to her chamber; and because her son was weeping, she wept. Soon tlie rumor spread through the whole province that the Yicomte do Beuzerie and the Chevalier d'Anguilhcin had together visited Mademoiselle Con- stance de Beuzerie, and, as a result of this visit, the novice had renounced her design of taking the veil, and had returned to her father's house. In this unlooked-for return of the young girl to more mundane ideals, all thought they saw a ready solution of the differences that had formerly arisen between the two families, and which Roger's marriage had caused to spring up with intensified bitterness. Constance herself had not a doubt of her future hap- piness. She had kept her faith in Roger when absent. How, then, could she bring herself to doubt him when, after three years, he had returned to her, as fond as ever? And, in point of fact, surrounded by all the associa- tions of his youth, Roger had reverted to his first, his only love. Now that he was again with Constance, he well knew the sentiment with which he had regarded Sylvandire to have been a very material love, a delirium of the senses, a surrender to the spell of beauty; and that love, never attaining an elevated plane, had always been love fraught with jealousy and unrest. His feeling for Constance, — it was happiness. But his happiness was cruelly troubled by the memory of the accident at Marseilles. At times Roger succeeded in forgetting that terrible night, and then his face would lighten up with supreme joy. A smile of ineffable happiness would settle upon his lips. Then THE CHEVALIER AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 391 a sudden thought would cross his mind. Roger would grow as pale as death, his flesh creep, and a cold perspiration start from every pore. The unhappy man always saw that white fog on the horizon, with the tartan fleeing in the direction of Tunis. As we have said, Roger had expressed to Constance the wish to appear in mourning for a year, and Con- stance had commended his observance of the conven- tionalities. Roger had not said a word of marriage. But Constance, having remained faithful to Roger in spite of his infidelity, seeing Roger return, had not thought it necessary to speak of a union which she considered as long before contracted in the sight of God. Consequently, when Roger, hoping that the distractions and the tumult of the capital might expel from his mind the terrors by which it was assailed, spoke of the necessity of a journey to Paris, on the pretext of attend- ing to his afi'airs, Constance raised no objection, and merely asked when he intended to return. "As soon as I can possibly do so," replied Roger. And, to the confiding girl, that reply was sufficient. Thereupon Roger took leave of the Chateau d'Anguil- hem, of the baron, of the baroness, of the Abbe Dubuquoi, of Christopher and Castor; and, having written to the Marquis de Crette that he would be with him in eight days, he set out, travelling by short stages. But, after the third day, Roger could not endure the sluggish progress. It left him too much time for thought on subjects that he wished to forget. He took post-horses, and reached Paris on the fourth night after his departure. There was yet another terrible moment for Roger. 392 SYLVANDIRE. It was when lie entered liis hotel, which he had left in company with Sylvandire. He scarcely dared raise his eyes, fearing to see a light in his wife's apartment, and dreading to hear a servant say , — " Madame returned in the absence of monsieur le chevalier, and begs that monsieur le chevalier will go to her." But the apartment was dark and closed, and no voice was raised to speak of Sylvandire. Breton attended his master. Roger trembled in the presence of this old confidant of his jealousy. It seemed as if Breton, who knew all his grievances against Sylvandire, looked at him in a curious way which said, — " Well, now we have taken our revenge ! " But a more trying ordeal than any of these was one that awaited Roger as he presented himself at Monsieur Bouteau's. The father-in-law's eye was searching. One is not a judge for nothing; but Roger had mar- shalled all his reserves for this occasion, and he bore it without flinching. The president did not love his daughter, whose character he had been able duly to estimate in the nineteen years during Avhich he had watched over her; but to question had become a habit with him, and he would not have been averse to a petty criminal process, even in his own family. How- ever, this time, he discovered no grounds. For why should he set about sounding the depths of that shrewd Roger, a man who, moreover, renounced his right of inheritance 1 It followed that Maitre Bouteau mourned with Roger the loss that both had sustained, but in such moderation that he continued to dine occasionally with his son-in-law, and they became greater friends than ever. It was the admiration of everybody that Roger's THE CHEVALIEK AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 393 affection, even after his wife's death, still extended to her family. The intimacy existed three months, to the great edification of those in a position to appreciate it. But, one fine morning, while heatedly reproving a lawyer who had been too bold of speech, Maitre Bouteau, a man of an irascible temperament, and possessed of a short, thick neck, fell in a fit of apoplexy, and died without recovering consciousness, an event that was not unalloyed with pleasure for Koger, nor one that would have displeased the best son-in-law in the world, who, had he been placed but twenty-four hours in Roger's position, would have understood how the worthiest of fathers-in-law can sometimes become an irksome load. At the first news of this accident, the housekeeper, who had been with Maitre Bouteau for fifteen years, hastened to summon Eoger. Eoger repaired to the home of his father-in-law, but, as we have said, the honored president did not regain consciousness. The will was opened, Maitre Bouteau left three hundred thousand livres to his son-in-law, five thousand livres to Mademoiselle Fanchon, his housekeeper, and one hundred thousand livres to be divided up in pious legacies among churches and hospitals. As to cash on hand, it was out of the question. Nor was there found a single stray sou. Mademoiselle Fanchon was a systematic woman. With all the honors due to his social position, Maitre Bouteau was buried in the cemetery of Pere- la-Chaise, which was beginning to be the fashionable cemetery of the day. The hundred thousand crowns bequeathed to him by his father-in-law proved a great embarrassment to Koger. 394 SYLVANDIRE. The money weigliod upon him singularly. It was Sylvandire's inheritance; but how was he to get the money to her? There was the rub! Besides, with that amount, Sylvandire could ransom herself and return to France, Roger trembled at the thought. He resolved, nevertheless, to hold that sum always available in bonds payable to the bearer. Let us turn from Maitre Bouteau, of whom we are glad to be rid, to the Marquis de Crette, with whom, thank God, we have not yet done. If Maitre Bouteau had had a germ of suspicion, in Crette the germ had attained full growth.; but he was that rare combination, a courtier and a man of delicacy. Moreover, he loved Roger as he would have loved a brother. Hence he asked his friend no questions about his wife; but, in the course of conversation and paren- thetically, he said, — "By the way, my friend, you know I had an old account to settle with Royancourt, " " Yes, " said Roger, " Well, knowing that you must not be implicated, I went to look him up at Utrecht, and there I publicly trod on his toes in such a fashion that I at last got him to fight." " Well 1 " demanded Roger, " I gave him a pretty little sword-thrust in the abdomen," " You have killed him then ? " "No, not exactly. He is just now in the hands of an excellent surgeon. Yet, as the wound was serious, I doubt that he will survive the winter. Do not be too grievously afflicted if you learn at any moment that he has passed from here to the hereafter. " In fact, one morning they read in the " Holland THE CHEVALIER AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 395 Gazette," the following notice, under the heading of Amsterdam, March, 1714: — " Monsieur le Marquis de Royancourt died this morning from the eifects of a wound received while hunting. This gentleman came to us eight months ago, charged with a special commission from His Most Christian Majesty." "Come, come," thought Roger. "It looks as if God must be watching over honest men, after all, since He is ridding me of all my persecutors one after another. Indeed, the proverb is right that says, ' God helps those who help themselves ! ' " It was Crette that showed Roger the death notice. " Your prison debts are paid," he remarked when the chevalier had read the article in question. " I have discharged one, and you have discharged — " But Roger turned so pale that Crette broke off abruptly, and, holding out his hand to his friend, said, — "Forgive me, chevalier. I am not prying into your secrets. But you know that if those secrets were of such a nature as to compromise you any day, you will find me in the future what you have found me in the past. " Roger pressed the hand of the marquis and heaved a great sigh ; but he made no other response. This caused the marquis to understand that the matter was very serious. Then Crette fell back upon his usual advice, — dis- traction; and, knowing no greater distraction than that afforded by a mistress, Crette advised Roger to take Mademoiselle Poussette, were it only for a short time. The matter would be very simple, as she was just then solacing Chastellux, who, having also suffered severely 396 SYLVANDIRE. through his affections, had also been in need of consolation. But Koger answered that his own sorrows were incurable. Crette saw that he must leave it all to time. However, as time wrought no change in Roger's melancholy, and as, on the contrary, it became more and more deep-seated, Crette concerted with his friends to procure him some diversion from time to time, and in spite of himself, as it were; but the diversion almost always had a different result from what that excellent friend intended. Thus, one day when d'Herbigny had persuaded Roger to ride with him to Saint Cloud, and being convinced that Roger's decline proceeded from grief at the death of his wife, as a lady passed them in an open barouche, d'Herbigny remarked, — " Ah ! that lady looks like poor Sylvandire ! " Then, as he turned to observe the effect of his sym- pathetic words, he beheld Roger gripping the saddle with both hands, wild-eyed, and as pale as death. " What a weakness he had for that woman ! " said d'Herbigny to himself, as he shook his head. " Really, it is of no use; he will never get over it." And he brought Roger, more dead than alive, back to his hotel. On another occasion, when Roger, d'Herbigny, Crette, and Chastellux had all four dined together, Chastellux proposed to his friends that they go to the Comedie- Frangaise, of which he was a constant frequenter, in consequence of his connection with Mademoiselle Poussette. Crette and d'Herbigny accepted, in the hope of amusing Roger. Roger accepted without knowing what was proposed. THE CHEVALIER AND CONSTANCE AGAIN IN LOVE. 397 " PhMre," which was beginning to find favor with the public, was being played, and " Monsieur de Pourceau- gnac," which then, as now, was privileged to excite the audience to the highest pitch of hilarity. Roger, all the time plunged in reverie, had listened to " Phedre " with- out hearing it, yet he was beginning to be somewhat diverted by the comedy, Avhen they came to the scene where the two lawyers sing to the unhappy Limosin spouse, accused of having taken two wives: — " Polygamy 's a banging matter." Now this scene, which threw the people into spasms of delight, had a wholly contrary effect upon d'Anguil- hem. He uttered several inarticulate sounds which his friends took for laughter. Then, throwing himself backward, he fell fainting into Crette's arms. They carried him back to the h6tel, very ill, and all through the night he was delirious. Crette had the forethought to send every one away, and he watched alone beside him. On the next day the Marquis de Crette seemed almost as care-ridden as his friend, who very soon rallied from this attack, although at the same time falling into a despondency that deepened day by day. 398 SYLVANDIRE. XXIX. HOW THE PERSIAN AMBASSADOR, MEHEMET RIZA BEG, CAME TO PARIS TO PRESENT THE RESPECTFUL COM- PLIMENTS OF HIS SOVEREIGN TO LOUIS XIV., AND HOW THE CHEVALIER d'ANGUILHEM WAS CON- STRAINED TO PAY A VISIT TO THAT ILLUSTRIOUS PERSONAGE. What rendered Roger more and more melancholy was the fact that time was passing with frightful rapidity, and that of the year required for mourning already nine months were gone. As we have seen, Roger had not, strictly speaking, made Constance any promise; but it was evident that Constance was in no need of promises from Roger to regard their union as a settled thing. From the moment that Roger had gone to beg her to withdraw from the convent and she had agreed to return to the world, there had been a tacit understanding that she was to become Roger's wife. Besides, everybody thought so, — the viscount, the viscountess, the baron and the baroness, the neighbors, all, in short, that had known of the old love affair between Roger and Con- stance, and had heard the news of their recent engagement. Then, let us add, Roger himself loved Constance more than he had ever loved her. Every other day he received a letter from the maiden, and every letter was a new leaf from the book of her heart, where Roger read the promise of inetfable joy. The situation was a THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEHEMET RIZA BEG. 399 terrible one. Fear held Roger back. Love urged him on. His union with Constance presented two faces, the one happily smiling, the other deathly sad. Twenty times Roger was on the point of setting out for Anguilhem to confess everything to his father and to Constance; but as Minerva restrained Achilles, so Roger's good genius restrained him. At last, urged on by all, driven to his last entrench- ment, and at his wits' end after another delay of six months, he pledged his word for the beginning of December, 1714. Then he affected to fall ill, hoping to die; and finally, he fixed positively upon the month of February, 1715. Any excuses sufficed to Constance, who did not even question them. All delays she had accepted with saintly resignation. In the interval, also, she had lost her mother, and she too was wearing deep mourning. It had been decided that the wedding should take place in Paris, and eight days before its celebration the baron and the baroness established themselves in the Hotel d' Anguilhem, while the Vicomte de Beuzerie and his daughter stayed at a neighboring house, where Roger had provided for their entertainment. At the Hotel d' Anguilhem all had been changed: furniture, hangings, pictures, everything, even to the mirrors. Roger would have regarded it as profanation that Constance should make use of any article whatever that might have belonged to Sylvandire. It will be remembered that Roger had sent his mother her share of the diamonds left by Monsieur de Bouzenois. These were the baroness' wedding present to her daughter-in-law. Now, the approaching marriage of the Chevalier d' Anguilhem made a great stir in society. People 400 SYLVANDIRE. talked only of that and of the arrival of the Persian ambassador, Mehemet Riza Beg, who had, as we have said, arrived at the capital, as the bearer of gifts from his sovereign to Louis XIV. The ladies called on the ambassador in the afternoon, and the gentlemen in the morning. One word about this singular personage, who, al- though introduced in our story a little later on, never- theless requires especial mention, Mehemet Riza Beg, as we have said, was the per- sonage who, for the time being, divided popular atten- tion with the Chevalier d'Anguilhem. However, with the modesty of which in the course of this most vera- cious history we have given so many proofs, we must admit that only a certain circle of Parisian society was interested in Roger, while Mehemet Riza Beg was the theme of all France. In fact, since the year 807, when Abdallah was despatched on an embassy by Haroun, the ruler of Persia, to Charlemagne, the Emperor of the West, and who brought from his sovereign a live elephant, which was regarded as a great wonder, our succeeding sover- eigns had never received any direct communication from the land of the " Arabian Nights " until about the middle of the year 1714, when the news was spread that Hussein, the Shah of Persia, grandson of the great Sephi, and son of the Sultan Soliman, having heard the virtues of the great King Louis XIV. , extolled even in Ispahan, his capital, had resolved to despatch an ambassador to him with presents. This news, as yet unconfirmed, had seemed singularly to flatter the pride of the conqueror of Flanders; and as if Providence was willing to offer an indemnity to his vanity at the moment of reminding him of the nothingness of human THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEHEMET RIZA BEG. 401 grandeur, the news came that Mehemct Eiza Beg had disembarked at Marseilles. Great news for Versailles was the ambassador's arrival ! The old king, grievously tormented by his circle of bastards, stricken by the hand of God in the persons of his sons and grandsons, was becoming more sullen than ever, so much so, that Madame de Maintenon, although a woman of resources, complained to her confidantes of the terrible task she had undertaken of amusing a man the most difficult to amuse of all, not only in France and Navarre, but in the whole of Europe. Mehemet Riza Beg was coming, then, it would appear, in the very nick of time to galvanize, as we nowadays say, the great sepulchre, as Versailles was called, and the great cadaver, as they called Louis XIV. Also there were people who said under their breaths that Mehemet Riza Beg was not an ambassador of Hussein, the Shah of Persia, but of Madame de Maintenon, the anonymous queen of France. However that might have been, and whencesoever he may have come, Mehemet Riza Beg had been received with great pomp. It was barely learned that he had landed at Marseilles, when the king sent Monsieur de Saint-Olon, his ambassador, to the King of Morocco, to receive him. In fact, the honors due to special envoys were rendered to Mehemet Riza Beg, who reached Charenton on the twenty -sixth of January, made his entry into the capital on the seventh of the following February, and was admitted to a formal audience on the nineteenth of the same month. Now, as we have intimated, the ambassador was the lion of the day. Nothing was talked of but his grandeur, his peculiarities, and the anxiety to which his capricious whims subjected the Baron de Breteuil, 26 402 SYLVANDIIIE. commissioned by the giciit king to entertain this envoy doubly-extraordinary sent him by his brotlier, the Shah of Persia. It was therefore quite natural that, having seen Paris and Versailles, Monsieur de Beuzerie and his daugliter should request to see the ambassador. Eoger, who was growing more cheerful with the approach of his new happiness, saw no reason for deny- ing his fiancee a gratification so small. Consequently, as the nuptial blessing was to be pronounced at noon, and as nothing is more tedious to a newly married couple than the wedding day, during which they are obliged to receive the congratulations of parents and friends, it was decided to make the pro- posed visit to the said ambassador between the ceremony and the dinner. The twenty-sixth of February was the day appointed for the union of Constance and the chevalier. By hardily confronting that moment so solemn to all, and so terrible to him, Eoger had ended, not by forgetting the position in which this second marriage was placing him, but by disregarding it. In brief, he was like one who had offered his life as a sacrifice, who knew that at any moment it might be taken, but who, meanwhile, was resolved to enjoy to the utmost the days that were left. Since morning Roger had surrendered to the intoxi- cating delight of beholding Constance again. In gaz- ing upon her all else was forgotten. On emerging from Saint Roch, where the marriage had been celebrated, her attendants escorted Constance to her apartments for the purpose of exchanging her bridal attire, and Roger and Crette took their way to the Hdtel des Ambassadeurs, where Mehemet Riza Beg was THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEHEMET RIZA BEG. 403 installed in state. Gentlemen, as we have said, were received in the morning, and ladies in the afternoon. The Marquis de Crettd was acquainted with the Baron de Breteuil, and had secured letters from him. Thanks to their letters, they were at once ushered into the presence of His Excellency. There was a throng of visitors, and they passed in groups of four in front of the ambassador, who, seated on a mat in the middle of his salon, gravely bowed as they passed. The names of the visitors were announced as they were successively admitted. When the turn of the friends came, the INIarquis de Crette and the Chevalier d'Anguilhem were announced as the others had been. Riza Beg was at that moment engaged in smoking, or rather, a slave, kneeling before him, was in the act of lighting his pipe. Roger observed that the slave, whose back alone could be seen, had a comely figure. On hearing the names of the Marquis de Crette and the Chevalier d'Anguilhem, the ambassador started, and the slave turned. Having already advanced four steps into the room, the two gentlemen stopped short and looked at each other, pale and motionless, as if the slave's face, like the head of Medusa, had turned them to stone; and then, after a moment of bewilderment, they took one another by the hand, saluted, and withdrew backward out of the salon, without having even glanced at the ambassador. "0 Roger!" exclaimed the marquis, on reaching the antechamber, " what a resemblance ! " "Crette," replied d'Anguilhem, "it is no resem- blance. It is Sylvandire herself, and I am lost! " 404 SYLVANDIRE. Then, in few words, he related his story to the marquis. However, he had left himself but little to tell. During the night of his delirium he had revealed nearly everything. " In that case, " cried Crette, " you must flee at once. Quickly secure all your gold and diamonds, and start for Flanders, Holland, or England. Go to the ends of the earth , but go at once. " Roger did not move from the spot. " But how does she happen to be with this beast of an ambassador?" said Crette. " Who can fathom God's designs ? " gloomily returned Roger. "Come, come!" cried the marquis, hurrying him along. " No theology. Don't lose a second. Send for post-horses, get a carriage, and be off ! " " Without Constance ? Never ! never ! " " But, my dear friend, do you know to what you are exposing yourself 1 " "To death, I know; but what matters death, pro- vided I do not die until to-morrow 1 " " Permit me to say that your reasoning is perfectly absurd. To-morrow, my dear friend, you will, I hope, have still less desire to die than you have to-day. You must live, morbleu f and live a long time. So leave to-day, this very instant. Only tell me where you are going, and to-morrow or to-night I will send you your wife. I will take her, if necessary, to you wherever you are, and once together, you will forget the am- bassador. You will forget Sylvandire; you will forget the universe." " No, Crette, no. Abandon me; you see, indeed, that I bring only misfortune ! " "Oh! if you lose your head, chevalier, that will THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEIIEMET RIZA BEG. 405 really be past endurance. Why, do j'ou wish to be the laughing-stock of all France ? Do you wish — Diahle ! bear in mind the gallows of Monsieur de Pourceaugnac. Ajiropos , was that the reason — " " Alas ! yes, my friend." " Poor fellow ! But I urge you again to make up your mind, Eoger. Peste ! the king makes no joke of morals. Remember For-1'Eveque, the Bastile, Chalon-sur-Saone. Fifteen months' imprisonment for neglecting your wife. Then what would it be for selling her ? " Arguing thus, they arrived at the Hotel d'Anguil- hem. Constance had gone with the baroness and her young friends to pay her call at the ambassador's. Crette profited by the opportunity to urge Roger to action. Roger had nearly thirty thousand francs in his cofi'er, and diamonds to the vakie of two hundred thousand francs. It was more than enough for im- mediate needs. He had therefore almost decided to flee, when all the ladies returned. In consequence of one of Mehemet Riza Beg's caprices, the doors of the Hotel des Ambassadeurs had been suddenly closed, and the reception postponed until five o'clock in the evening. The sight of Constance produced its efi"ect. Roger possessed neither the strength to fly, nor the courage to reveal the situation. Dinner was announced. Mechani- cally, Roger followed his guests and took his place at the table in such a state of preoccupation that it was observed by all. But, on his wedding day the head of a newly-married man may be a prey to thoughts of such conflicting nature that none would be indiscreet enough to ask him of what he was thinking. Yet from time to time Constance 406 SYLVANDIRE. regarded liim with misgiving, and at the least sotiiid d'Anguilhom and Crctte would give a start and turn their eyes upon tlie door. In this manner the dessert was reached. Roger and Crette began to be somewhat reassured. Roger smiled upon his bride, and his smile was life to her. With the charming high-bred manner that so few people have preserved in these days, Crette was telling some of the anecdotes that no one dares tell any more, when sud- denly a hideous looking negro boy entered and asked for Monsieur le Baron d'Anguilhem. Monsieur d'Anguilhem^ere had already risen, when Roger, comprehending that he was the one to whom the summons was addressed, made a sign to his father to be seated again, and, with blanched countenance, he himself followed the negro. Without strength to ask his guide a single question, Roger descended the stairs. Besides, if any doubt had remained to him, the matter would have been promptly explained. In the centre of the court he saw a two- seated chaise, and in the chaise, on the farther side, sat the young slave that he had recognized in the morning, and whose recognition had given him such a terrible turn. The slave made a sign for Roger to enter the chaise and take the opposite seat. Roger obeyed without a word, and sat down before her. The husband and wife of other days confronted each other. " At last, dear Roger," said Sylvandire, " after many difficulties, I see you again, thank God! " Roger bowed. "You did not count on me as a guest to-day, did you? " proceeded Sylvandire, deriving from Roger the THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEHEMET EIZA BEG. 407 same pleasure that a cat has in pLaying with a mouse before eating it. " No, I confess I did not, " returned Roger. " No. You thought me at Constantinople, at Cairo, or at Tripoli at the very least. But I loved you so much, my dear, that I could not endure absence from you, and I eagerly seized upon the first opportunity presenting itself to return to Europe." "Excessively kind," muttered Roger. "But how has my love been rewarded? I come, I inquire about you. I am told that you are about to take another wife, and that to-day, to-day even, you are married; but understand that I am jealous, — ingrate ! " Every one of her words froze poor Roger. Finally, after a moment's silence, during which Sylvandire not once took her eyes from his, Roger asked, — " But what do you wish of me now 1 " " I wish to know at what price you sold me, that I may add the sum to the other small claims that I have against you. " " 3Ia fol," said Roger, "all things considered, I was justified in selling a wife that had caused me to be imprisoned. " " I ought to have done worse than that, miscreant that you are," answered Sylvandire in purring tones. "Had me killed, perhaps? Ah! indeed, madame, had you done that, you would, I admit, have rendered me a valuable service." "Listen," said Sylvandire. "A truce to jesting, and let us talk business. " " With all my heart," replied Roger. "But I swear that for my part I am neither jesting nor in the least disposed to jest. Therefore speak as seriously as you will, I listen." 408 SYLVANDIRE. " Roger, " resumed Sylvandire, " without a suspicion of it, you liave created my happiness. I became acquainted with Mehemet Riza Beg; I pleased him, and he has made me his wife." " What! " exclaimed Koger with a ray of hope, "and you too are married ? " " Yes, but in the Mohammedan way, which does very well for that country, but which would certainly be worth nothing here. So that I have really only one husband, Avhile you have two wives. Now, you know, my dear husband, polygamy is — " " Yes, yes, I know," said Roger. "You are, therefore, nicely caught, completely in my power, for I waited until the thing was done, you understand ; and in any case, even though you had not politely come and made me a call this morning, you would have had mine this evening." " Why, would you ruin me 1 " cried Roger. " Fool ! What would I gain by ruining you? No, no, dear Roger. In the first place, I wish you to give me the hundred thousand crowns that you have inherited from my poor father." " Oh ! as to that," cried Roger, " it is no more than just, and I have kept the sum in bonds payable to bearer, all ready to be sent to you." And Roger moved as if to descend from the carriage and go for his portfolio. But Sylvandire checked him. "Not so fast, now, not so fast," said Sylvandire. " Oh ! that is not all. You are not to be let off so cheaply. " " I am waiting, " said Roger. " Next, the one hundred thousand crowns of my dot." THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEHEMET PJZA BEG. 409 " What ! your dot ? You know very well that I never received any one hundred thousand crowns." " I know that sum is specified in my marriage con- tract, and that I must not wrong my second husband, whose behavior, you will acknowledge, has been very different from yours, since he bought me, and you — you sold me." "Very well, "said Roger, " as you will, the one hun- dred thousand crowns shall be yours. " "Next," began Sylvandire. " What ! " cried Eogcr, " is there anything more 1 " " Certainly, there is the price of my person, Diable! my dear Roger, if not of age, I was at least emancipated, and I owned an interest in myself. I am not a lawyer's daughter for nothing." "As to that," said Roger, " I can give you my word of honor that I did not receive a sou, and I even — I even — well, I gave five hundred pistoles to boot." "Oh! it is ungallant of you to tell me that, mon- sieur," coquettishly protested Sylvandire. " But as you are a man of honor, and as you give me your word, I believe you. So, if you like, it shall be six hundred thousand livres." " When do you wish the money 1 " asked Roger. " I had a great mind, however," continued Sylvandire, without replying to the question, "I had a great mind to appear in the salon in place of staying in the court, and be suddenly announced by the faithful Breton. You still have Breton ? " Roger bowed affirmatively. "And have the faithful Breton suddenly announce Madame d'Anguilhem, just to see your look of con- sternation at finding yourself between your two wives, Turk that you are ! But I preferred other satisfaction. 410 SYLVANDIKE. As I said, give me six liunclrcd thousand livres, and then we shall see." " Where do you wish me to send tliis sum ? " asked Eoger. "To the embassy," replied Sylvandire. "Ask for the favorite slave of His Excellency, Mehemet Eiza Beg. I shall know what that means, and will respond to the call." " And when must you have the six hundred thousand livres? " demanded E,oger, repeating the question that had remained unanswered. " In two hours. " " In two hours ! " exclaimed Roger, " Why, you might as well ask me at once to blow out my brains. How do you expect me to get one hundred thousand crowns togetlier in two hours t " " Why, you have diamonds, sell them. You have friends, draw on their purses. I am sorry to seem so unreasonable, but we are leaving very shortly, my dear Roger. His Excellency, Mehemet Riza Beg, has remained solely at my request that he would wait until your marriage was solemnized." " In two hours ! in two hours ! " cried Roger. " Why it is impossible. Wait at least until to-morrow morning. " " I will not wait a moment." "Then do your worst." " My worst, oh ! mon Dieu, that is simple enough. I will enter the hdtel, go to your room, get into bed, and wait till you come. Angola," pursued Sylvandire, addressing the negro, and making a movement as if to get out, " open the door, I wish to descend." The negro grasped the door-knob. Roger detained Sylvandire. THE CHEVALIER VISITS MEHEMET KIZA BEG. 411 "But think of the consequences." " There are no consequences, save only for you. Mehemet has no chiim on me but that of having bought me. Now, I suspect that such a sale is decidedly illegal in France. Besides, it was you that sold me. It would come with a bad grace for you to reproach me with what happened while I was in the hands of my owner." " But, madame — " " Listen, " said Sylvandire. " I have said that I would give you two hours, and, as I am as good as my word, I still grant them; but if, in two hours — heed me well — " " Oh! 1 am not losing a word," returned Eoger with a sigh. " If in two hours the six hundred thousand livres have not reached the hotel of the embassy — " " Well ? " demanded Roger, anxiously. "Well, dear Koger," replied Sylvandire, " expect to hear Madame Eoger d'Anguilhem announced, and to see me appear." So saying, Sylvandire dismissed her husband with a captivating little nod and an adorable smile. Then, at a sign from his mistress, the negro opened the carriage door, and Eoger alighted. The carriage immediately began to move away; but as far as the grand entrance, Sylvandire, her head entirely out of the window, continued waving her hand to Eoger. 412 SYLVANDIRE. XXX. now THE MARQUIS DE CRKTTE NEGOTIATED MATTERS IN THE NAME OF THE CHEVALIER d'AXGUILHEM, AND BROUGHT THIS ENTIRE STORY TO A MOST UNEXPECTED ISSUE. KoGER found Crette waiting for him at the foot of the staircase. " Well ? " interrogated the marquis. " Well, my friend, it was she ! " " I suspected as much. What does she want 1 What does she demand 1 " " An impossibility. " "But what?" " Six hundred thousand livres in two hours." " Six hundred thousand livres in two hours! " repeated Crette, " excellent ! " " Excellent ! what do you mean 1 Why I have only three hundred thousand livres in hand, and, in two hours from now, if I have not found three hundred thousand more, which is impossible — " " Well, if you have not the other three hundred thou- sand, what then ? " " She will come to the h6tel and have herself publicly announced as Madame Roger d'Anguilhem." " She will not do it." " Why 1 " " I don't know why ; but if she could do it she would have done it." THE MARQUIS DE CRETT^ NEGOTIATES. 413 "Ah! my friend." "Listen, Koger: when people demand money and fail to take their rights, they are in hiding; there is some- thing back of it all." " But, my friend, she is not in hiding, since she tells me that in two hours she will announce herself in my house as my wife." "Yes, I know, it is alarming.'* " My dear fellow, I shall go to my room and blow my brains out." "There is time enough for that yet; leave things to me." " But what can you do 1 " " I do not know, but I shall try to save you." " Oh ! my dear Crette, my only friend ! " cried Roger, casting his arms around the marquis' neck. "Yes, yes, I understand all that," returned Crette; " but we must not waste our time weeping in each other's arms. " " Wliat must I do ? I place myself in your hands ; command and I will obey." " Detain your guests in the salon ; it is only half -past eight, that will be an easy matter, therefore. Look as cheerful as you can, • — I will not be too exacting, poor fellow. Prevent any one's entering the salon without Breton's knowledge. " " I will station him at the door. " " Now, give me the three hundred thousand livres that are payable to bearer, all your jewels, and the cash that you have. I will go to my notary and drain his purse. The devil is in it if we do not get the requisite sixm." " Yes, yes, Crette, get me the money, sell everything, save me." And Roger ascended the stairs with his friend, got the 414 SYLVANDIRE. three liundrcd thnuf^and livres, went witli liim to Con- stance's chamber and took all tlie diamonds that he had given to liis wife. Then, Crette, leaping into the carriage which had been ordered in the meantime, dashed away with his horses at full speed. Eoger went back to the salon, and as Crette had directed, he put on as good a face as he was al)le. Meanwhile, Crette hastened home antl secured twentj'- five thousand livres; he proceeded thence to his notar}', who gave him fifty thousand. These sums, with the thirty thousand livres in cash that Eoger had given him, and the diamonds rated at their inventory value, almost made up the six hundred thoiisand livres demanded. All this chasing about had consumed an hour and a half. Hence there was no time to lose. On leaving his notary, Crette gave orders to proceed to the Hotel des Ambassadeurs. Five minutes later, he alighted at the door. He ascended the stairs. Thanks to the cliange made in the hour of their reception, the ladies were descending. He encountered Mademoiselle Poussette, who had just made her call, and, who, with peals of laughter, was returning to her carriage. Crette, fearing that she would cause him to lose valu- able time, endeavored to avoid her, but it was not to be done. Mademoiselle Poussette had seen him; overcome with laughter she permitted herself to sink into his arms. " Well ! let us hear what has happened, " demanded Crette. " Why are you laughing so, mademoiselle 1 " " Ah ! my dear marquis, " cried Mademoiselle Pous- sette, " the queerest adventure, the most unheard-of, most unexpected, most mythological, most fabulous ! " " 3Ion Dieu ! " thought Crette, " can she by any chance have recognized Sylvandire 1 " THE MAEQUIS DE CEETT^ NEGOTIATES. 415 " An adventure such as one meets with in stories, in fairy-tales, in tlie 'Arabian Nights,' an adventure that you will not believe." " Certainly, certainly ! " cried Crette, " of course I shall believe you ; but talk fast, my love, as I am pressed for time." " You are going up to the ambassador 1 " "Yes." " Then look at him well and squarely in the face, as I am looking at you this moment; in imagination, divest him of his beard, of his mustache, and then come to see me to-morrow morning, that is all I have to say; or this very evening, if you prefer it, monsieur le marquis," added she, with a little squeeze of the hand and a most gracious smile. " What ! " exclaimed Crette, " I am to look the ambas- sador well and squarely in the face, divest him of beard and mustache 1 Poussette, my dear friend, do you happen to know the ambassador ? " " Do I know him ! — as well as I know you, as well as I know d'Herbigny, as well as I know Chastellux, as well as I should probably have known your friend Roger, had he not always proved cruel." " Poussette, my dear child, " cried the marquis, " you can save my life." " Your life, marquis 1 " " No, not exactly mine, but my best friend's which is absolutely the same thing — Roger's." " What must I do 1" "Who is this ambassador? His name, Poussette, his name ! Twenty thousand livres and the good graces of the handsomest gentleman in Paris. I pledge my word for him; if he fails to pay, I will pay. Poussette, my dear girl, what is the ambassador's name ? " 416 SYLVANDIRE. " Ah ! for shame ! you think me selfish, marquis, you deserve indeed — " " His name, Poussette ! and by midnight I will bring you the twenty thousand livres; expect me." " Well, marquis, it is — you will never believe it. " " Go on. I invariably believe what women tell me." " It is — " " Poussette, you torture me ! " "Well, it is the Indian." " What Indian ? " " Why, the Indian, you know, my yellow lover. " " Roger's opponent ? that man of the lawsuit ? Afghano 1 " cried the marquis. " Himself." " Ah ! Poussette of my heart, come to my arms ! " And, heedless of being seen by the people that con- tinued to descend from the ambassador's, Crette folded the demoiselle to his heart. " But are you quite positive 1 " continued he, unable to credit such good news. " I tell you that I recognized him in spite of the beard that he has grown, in spite of his blackened teeth, in spite of his pink-tinted nails, and yet the monster made believe not to see me ! Ah ! marquis, marquis, how ungrateful men are! " " My dear Poussette, " said Crette, " I will be proof to the contrary. I shall be with you at midnight; expect me to supper." " And if Chastellux comes 1 " " You Avill say that you have a headache." "How you arrange things, monsieur le marquis!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Poussette, endeavoring to blush. " Not so well as you, I know, my Venus ; besides, I rely entirely on your sagacity. Adieu, Poussette, and if THE MARQUIS DE CRETTlfi NEGOTIATES. 417 you liave told the truth, well, you have rendered me a service that I will never in my life forget." Mademoiselle Poussette regained her carriage, and Crette mounted the stairs four steps at a time. At the ambassador's door he was stopped by the negro. "What do you want?" said he. "His Excellency's reception for gentlemen is over." " I am not seeking His Excellency, " returned Crette, " but his favorite slave. " " Then you come — " " On behalf of the Chevalier d'Anguilhem." " In that case, enter." And the negro ushered Crette into a room furnished in the style of the Orient; then, saying that he would ac- quaint the person whom the marquis sought he left him. And five minutes later Sylvandire entered. " Ah ! it is you, monsieur le marquis, " said Sylvan- dire. " I had a presentiment that I was about to have the pleasure of meeting you again. My presentiment was not at fault. Have you the six hundred thousand livres 1 " " No, " boldly answered the marquis. " Then why are you here ? " " To speak with your master, His Excellency Mehemet Eiza Beg." " From M'hom, seigneur 1 " asked Sylvandire, lightly. " From Monsieur Voyer d'Argenson, lieutenant of the police of the realm." Sylvandire paled; Crette noted the effect of his words. " His Excellency cannot receive at present ; he is in bed." "Well," said Crette, "I will go and find some one that will make him get up." 27 418 SYLVANDIRE. "Stay," said Sylvandire. "I will see if His Excel- lency is visible." " Pardon, fair lady, " said Crette, " but I have reasons of my own for Avishing to accompany you, otherwise — " He made a step toward the door. " Come with me, " said Sylvandire. And she opened a door that led into a corridor. The marquis followed, and with her penetrated to the salon of the ambassador, who, seated on his mat, assumed an air of lordly consequence that was ridiculous in the extreme. " Wait, " said Sylvandire, " I will summon the inter- preter." " It is quite unnecessary, " remarked Crette. " What ! do you, then, know Persian, marquis 1 " " No ; but His Excellency will be so kind as to speak French." " He has no knowledge of our language." " Do you think so 1 " said Crette. Then, approaching the ambassador and tapping him on the shoulder, he said, — " Am I not right, my dear Monsieur Afghano, in sup- posing that, in my case, you will have the extreme good- ness to remember that you speak French 1 " The ambassador uncrossed his legs, threw back one hand as a support, and, with blanched face, stared at Crette. " Oho ! " said Crette. " My dear monsieur, had I thought the face of an old acquaintance could produce this effect, I would have instructed madame to prepare you." " What do you wish, monsieur? " said the Indian. " There, you see," said Crette to Sylvandire. " I told you that His Excellency would make an exception in my THE MARQUIS DE CIIETTE NEGOTIATES. 419 favor ! I wish, dear Monsieur Afghano, " resumed Crette, again turning to the false ambassador, " to notify you that within one hour a warning will have been sent to the king whom you have mystified, that lie has been made your dupe." The Indian became livid, and his liand stole toward his poniard. " There 1 there ! " said Crette, " no tragedy, I beg, dear Monsieur Afghano, it would be useless ; for I warn you that I am seconded by one who knows your whole history, and who will in one hour start for Versailles, if in that time I do not return to the hotel. However, my dear friend, don't let that hinder you; kill me if you like. I have never been able to distinguish myself, and by such a death I should be almost immortalized. The Marquis de Crette killed by His Excellency, Mehemet Kiza Beg, Ambassador Extraordinary of His Most Sub- lime Majesty, the Shah of Persia. Dlahle ! I should be in great luck. But no : you \a.j your Aveapons aside ; you return to more pacific ideas. Well, so be it, I am myself a good-natured fellow; whatever suits you suits me. Let us talk business." The ambassador arose and went himself to bolt the door. " Yes, I understand, " continued Crette. " You pur- chased madame, and you have a good bargain, for madame is charming. You then formed each other's acquaintance, which is quite natural; on acquaintance you discovered that you each had a grievance against the same man, — against poor Eoger. You then said: 'Very well, since we have a hatred in common, let us have our revenge in common.' Meanwhile, the report reached you that no one could any longer amuse the king, and, being a man of inventive turn, you improvised this embassy. Bravo ! 420 SYLVANDIRE. my dear fellow, bravo! There was everything to gain; you pocketed the presents that His Very Christian Ma- jesty had the kindness to grant you in exchange for the baubles that you brought liim from your sovereign, for whom, by the way, you have secured the reputation of a niggard. As for my lady, her thoughts ran something like this : ' I sliall make him surrender my father's inheri- tance ' — which is just — * and my dnt,^ — which is much less just, since madame never had a dot. With these ends in view, you come to Paris, and fortune favors you beyond expectation. You learn that Monsieur d'Anguil- hem is about to marry, and you wait until the marriage has taken place. Then when the deed is done, when there is no retreat, you immediately begin to work the gold mine that has just been opened up before you. And so, you at first extract six hundred thousand livres through dread of the rope that hangs from the neck of a bigamist. But this is not all : after this demand comes another, and this other is followed by still another. During your en- tire life, you haunt the shadow of this blessed gibbet, fleecing the chevalier until the inheritance from Monsieur Bouzenois gradually reverts to the hands of Monsieur Afghano. I think I have stated the case accurately, have I not, jVEonsieur Afghano 1 have I not, madame ? " continued Crette, alternately casting upon each a glance that was half of amusement, half menace. " Didble ! we are French, and, consequently, born wicked, says Mon- sieur Boileau-Despreaux, whom madame must have read in her youth." Sylvandire and Afghano were crushed, and they cow- ered before Crette like two criminals before their judge. " Ah ! and now, " continued Crette, " as the position of each is clear, the chevalier can be hanged for bigamy, Monsieur Afghano can be quartered for forgery, Madame THE MARQUIS DE CRETT^ NEGOTIATES. 421 Sylvaudire can be sent to Saint Lazare as an adventuress. Let us come to the point. " You have received a million, or thereabout, from the King of France, my dear Monsieur Afghano. In this portfolio are three hundred thousand livres, your father's bequest, my dear Dame d'Anguilhera, You, Monsieur rindien, have nearly two million of your own; altogether that makes, according to my reckoning, three million three hundred thousand livres : a very pretty penny with which to retire to Tripoli, to Constantinople, to Cairo, to Ispahan, to Pekin, to any place you wish, in short, and to lead the life of a sultan everywhere." " Monsieur le marquis," said Afghano, " I swear I will start to-morrow." " Not so fast, not so fast ! I intend that you shall start; but on two slight conditions that I am about to name. " " Speak, monsieur, I listen." " Monsieur, do you swear never again to return to Paris ? " " I swear it." " I believe you, for your oath is vouched for by your fear of discovery. I will ask no other security than your word, and I am quite sure that I shall never see you again. " The Indian inclined his head. " But that is not the case with madame. Let her once be separated from you, let you once go away, as soon as I can no longer prove you an impostor and madame your accomplice, madame might any day be seized with a de- sire to return and seat herself at the conjugal fireside, which would embarrass us greatly, since at this fireside there is room only for two. Therefore I shall not leave myself at the mercy of madame's word. Madame shall 422 SYLVANDIRE. give mc a little letter, which I will dictate myself, and, when I have that letter in my hands, why, madame may follow you to the ends of the earth." Sylvandire rebelled. " You must, " said Crette. " It is hard, I admit, to have come to lay down the law and to have it dealt out instead; this is a condition sine qua no7i." " And if I refuse 1 " " On leaving here, I shall go to the chief of police. I shall expose your little fraud, and in half an hour you will be in the Bastile." " But, " said Sylvandire, " we are not friendless, mon- sieur le marquis ; we did not come here without having taken precautions. We have powerful allies." " As Monsieur de Royancourt cannot be in question, since I have had the honor to run my sword through his body, I presume that you have reference to the Jesuits." " Possibly." " Alas, my dear Madame d'Anguilhem, although you have had some slight association with those gentlemen, you do not yet know them. You would compromise them outrageously by making use of their name. They are not simpletons, they would sacrifice you." " It is true, it is only too true ! " murmured Afghano. " In that case, " said Sylvandire, " what must I do ? " " What monsieur le marquis exacts, my dear, " replied the Indian; " believe me, it is our wisest plan." " But, if I give you this letter, Avill you swear that you will let us and our money leave France unmolested ? " " I give you my word of honor on it, I, Alphonse, Marquis de Crette." " I am ready, monsieur, " said Sylvandire, seating her- self at a table on which there were paper, ink, and. pens. "Dictate; I will write." THE MARQUIS DE CRETT^ NEGOTIATES. 423 Crette dictated : — "Tunis, Oct. 11, 1713. " Monsieur d'Anguilhem, — Cease grieving for my death, for I am told that yoiir whole life is wrecked. I live. Although I fell into the sea, although I seemed to be drowned, it was a subterfuge to rid myself of the dominion of a husband whom, despite all his attentions, I could not bring myself to love, and in order, at last, to reach the arms of the man whom I adore. To-day, monsieur, under other laws, human and divine, I have become his wife, and you will never see me again. Dead to all, I wish to be especially so to you. Therefore, from this day, consider yourself wholly widowed and also perfectly free. " And now, that you may be as happy as I am, is the last wish for us both of her who once was " Sylvandire, dame d'Anguilhem. " P. S. This letter will be conveyed to you by a trust- worthy man whom my husband is despatching to France." " How can this letter serve you ? " inquired Sylvan- dire, as she handed it to the marquis, after having addressed and sealed it. " That, madame, you will learn, should you, failing to keep your word, ever force us to make use of it." And, bowing to Afghano and to Sylvandire, he pro- ceeded to the door, which he opened, and at its thresh- old said to the ambassador, loud enough to be heard by his people, — " Deign, Your Excellency, to accept my sincere compliments." Afghano, wholly prostrated by the scene that had just taken place, remained where he was. But Sylvan- dire followed Crette. " Marquis, " she said, in a low voice as she crossed the antechamber with him, " tell me frankly, is his wife pretty 1 " 424 SYLVANDIKE. " Not so pretty as you, madame, " replied Crette, " but slie loves liiiii more." " What would you have 1 " retorted Sylvandire. " I wished to be a princess." "Another marriage like this one, madame," said Crette, " and you will attain your end ; you are already an ambassadress." Sylvandire gave a sigh, and slowly regained the depths of the hotel. CONCLUSION. 42 i CONCLUSION. Crett:e sprang into his carriage, the horses set off at a run, and he returned to the Hotel d'Anguilhem. He found Constance, alone and desolate, in a little salon, weeping to find her husband so gloomy and preoccupied. " He believed himself in honor bound to keep his word, " thought she ; " but most assuredly he no longer loves me." "When Crette opened the door she thought her husband was coming to seek her, and she quickly sprang forward to meet him; but, on seeing the marquis, she dropped back into her chair. Crette understood what was passing in the mind of the poor young wife ; he went up to her reassuringly. " Come, come, " said he, " dry your beautiful eyes, dear lady, and let us return together to the salon. In fifteen minutes Roger will be himself again, and I can answer for your future." Then he took her by the hand and led her toAvard the grand salon. Breton was on guard at the door, in obedience to his orders. The marquis beckoned to him ; Breton came. " My good fellow, " said Crette, " throw open both leaves of the door, and in your most pompous tones announce Madame Roger d'Anguilhem." Having no reason for preventing the entrance of his master's wife and his friend, Breton obeyed on the 426 SYLVANDIRE. instant, and, inflating his lungs, lie swung back the doors and made the arches echo with the name so dreaded by the chevalier, — " Madame Roger d' Anguilhem ! " At this announcement, Roger, who, in the farthest corner of the room, was endeavoring to converse with d'Herbigny and Monsieur de Beuzerie, felt his legs give way beneath him, and sinking into an arm-chair, he covered his face with his hands. Then, with a radiant smile on her lips, Constance entered, leaning on Crette's arm. They advanced toward Roger, who, hearing the sound of their steps, and not daring to look up, wished himself a hundred feet under ground. " Well, my friend," said Crette, as he clapped his hand on the other's shoulder, and thereby made Roger shiver to the very marrow of his bones, " what is the matter? Here is Constance." " Ah ! Crette ! ah ! Constance, " cried he, " I thought — I beg pardon ! " "You thought what? Ah! Madame d'Anguilhem has come to look for you, and you are afraid, " said the marquis, taking his hand and slipping Sylvandire's letter into it at the same time. " It is eleven o'clock, cheva- lier, take away your wife." " Yes ! yes ! " cried Roger, " to the end of the world, if needs be." " No, not so far," replied Crette," that is useless now." Then, while the young couple were crossing the salon on the way to their apartment, he called out, — " Have you heard the news ? The Persian ambassador leaves to-morrow with all his suite. I propose, messieurs and mesdames, that we see them off, — they embark at Chaillot." CONCLUSION. 427 " We •will not go, will we ? " said Constance, as she opened the door of their room, " No, indeed ! " answered Roger, as he closed it. The next day Crette informed his friend of his two promises to Mademoiselle Poussette, the first of which, the payment of twenty thousand livres, the niarqnis had scrupulously kept the night before. As the chevalier was a man of honor, and incapable of belying his friend's word, we have no doubt but that in due place and season the second promise was kept with tlie same fidelity. It is needless to add that Roger and Constance are still quoted, not at Paris, where great examples are soon lost, but at Loches and its vicinity, as a model pair. THE END. 120312 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 865 484 o :■;■<■ ■}■ '>, /■ ■ ■(■>. ■■