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 THE TAVERN 
 oftheTHREE 
 VIRTUES 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 FROM THE 
 ORIGINAL OF 
 SAINT-JUIRS
 
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 THE TAVERN OF 
 
 THE THREE VIRTUES
 
 TheTWERNofthe 
 THREE VIRTUES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE 
 ORIGINALofSAINT-JUIRS 
 
 ILLVSTRATED WITH SIXTY DRAWINGS 
 
 BY 
 
 DANIELVIERGE 
 
 TOGETHER WITH A 
 CRITICAL ESSAY ON 
 THEARTOFVIERGE 
 BY EDMUND GOSSE 
 
 LONDON 
 
 T FISHER UNWIN 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 INTRODUCTION.
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 
 t. _->-=■ 
 
 TN 1877 <?« English admirer received from 
 that strange and interesting writer, the 
 late M. Leon Cladel, a copy of the privately 
 printed edition of his stones called Les Va- 
 Nu-Pieds. T'his rather uncouth vAume was 
 profusely illustrated by Jules Martin, Regamey, 
 Chevallier, and others of what then seemed 
 the advanced school. But, as 1 turned over 
 the pages, I came upon three or four designs 
 which seemed to me to reveal an entirely new 
 talent, and to appeal by their delicacy against 
 the brutality of the others. They were 
 si'rncd " VicricT und they were remarkable for their marvel- 
 lous vigour and yet their almost more marvellous reserve ; they 
 were noticeable, too, for the very curious way in which spaces of pure black were used 
 to emphasise the composition. Here was a stout maiden of the South romping with two 
 workmen in the vineyards ; an irregular funeral was here 
 being conducted under the chalky clifof some island ; two wolves, f^ 
 or lean wolj-like dogs, enclosed in a rondo, were here howl- 
 ing, with n:cks far thrown back. Short, scratchy pen-lines 
 seemed to be used for all parts of the design, the only shadows 
 being these masses of positive black of which I speak. The 
 vignette of the wolf-dogs, in particular, w.is astonishing fr 
 the completeness with which what was desired was rendered, 
 and no more, the minimum of touches revealing these tniser-
 
 XIV 
 
 DANIEL VIERGE 
 
 able animals, haying on tlw ivct ami desolate 
 hill-suii\ I endeavoured to discover ivlio Vierg, 
 was, but although he iv.is at this time copious, 
 contributing admirable illustrations to 
 " he Monde II lust re," I foutid no one 
 ivho ivas interested in him. But when, 
 in 1H82, / saw the Pedro de Stiijovie 
 announced, 1 ordered it, and discovered 
 that my unknown artist had developed ■ 
 iftto a master of the first class, perhaps 
 without a superior in originality among 
 the workers in black and white of our 
 day. He became presently famous, but not 
 until, as is well known, the power of en- 
 joying fame had been taken from him ; nor 
 even now, although justice has- been done 
 to him by his fellow-craftsmen, is his-^i:-^ 
 name by any means familiar to the 
 ordinary amateur. 
 
 Fierge, whose full name is Daniel Vierge 
 Urrabieta, was born in Madrid on the 
 of March, i 8 5 i . His father, Vincente 
 bieta Ortiz, is described as having been the best 
 
 -A 
 
 known illustrator of Spain in his day ; at the close oj his career 
 
 ^l-^-' ollt he declared that he had produced a million published drawing's. 
 
 ,i\l In such a workshop, FierQ-e was a precocious apprentice. He 
 
 ^ , .(..'iAvY '^'^^(hl draw at the age of three, long before he could read, 
 
 jf iind to play whh a pencil was the only childish amusement 
 
 h. '"-^^ he kiuw. Until he was seven years of age his health 
 "i^ I .^ - 
 
 v^ 1'^ V, was delicate; for this reason, so he told Mr. Fennel I, his 
 
 parents left the city to take up their abode in a 
 
 country -house called Pinto. Here the boy was occupied 
 
 r
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 XV 
 
 1.' 
 
 ■■.I 
 
 fro)n morning to night in sketching from nature. In 1864 
 
 he was admitted into the School of Fine Arts in Madrid, 
 
 where the ruling influence was that of For tuny, and where 
 
 Madrazo and Federico were his masters. He speedily 
 
 won the highest honours in this academy, where he remained 
 
 five years. As early as 1867, he began to produce illus- 
 trations for the Madrul journals, and his leisure time was 
 
 spent in preparing careful copies of the masterpieces of 
 
 Velasquez and of Goya. 
 
 In 1869 Vierge repaired to Paris, with the intention of 
 
 taking up painting as a profession. T'he moment seemed 
 
 singularly ill-chosen, for hardly had he arrived when the 
 
 German war broke out. Dispirited and alarmed, he was 
 
 flitting his things together for the return journey to Spain, 
 
 when he was called upon by Charles Triarte, and was invited 
 
 to become a j-egular contributor of illustrations to " Le Monde 
 
 Illustrey To this was presently added work on "-La Vie Modcrnr,'" ajid Vierge was 
 
 started on his career. His friend, M. Jaccaci, has given a curious account of 
 
 the zeal with which, during the siege of Paris, Vierge sought out every strange con- 
 junction of men and events, without a thought 
 of personal fear, incessantly adding to his 
 stock of brilliant impressions. Without, at 
 first, attracting any wide attention, Vierge 
 also illustrated books, among others editions 
 of Michelet and of three or four of the 
 romances of Victor Hu^o. For twelve 
 years he laboured with extreme zeal, over- 
 taxing the capacities of nerve and brain. 
 By a rare irony of fate, it was white 
 working, in 1881, on the book which was 
 to make him famous throughout the world, 
 the Tacano (or Don Pablo de Segovie), 
 
 '-"y/f/rZ
 
 XVI 
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 that he was stuidenly, at the age of thirty, 
 prostrated hy paralysis. "Those ivho are fortu- 
 nate enough to possess that rare and 
 precious volume, are aware that its copious 
 illustrations come abruptly to a close on 
 p. 175. This marks the point in the nar- 
 
 rative at which Vierge was struck 
 down. The publisher, M. Leon 
 Bonhoure, conscious of 
 the artisfs value, was 
 scrupulous not to con- 
 fide to another hand the task of illustrating the later chapters. 
 
 The decay of Vierge' s powers appeared at first to be final. For two years his condi- 
 tion is described as having been one ^' of living death." Gradually the intellect bas recovered, 
 though speech, I believe, has never wholly returned, and gradually the renovated will has 
 forced the left hand to take upon itself the function of the still helpless right one. Memory 
 has come back, and the artistic gift remains. Vierge can never hope to be again the 
 rapid and brilliant designer that he was, but within the last two or three years he has 
 once more taken to the production of work which few men could fail to envy. It is a 
 
 pathetic thing that the fame, for which he laboured to 
 such excess, came to him as soon as he could 7io longer 
 enjoy it. In 1882, after the publication of the trans- 
 lated Don Pablo de Segovie, he began to be the 
 recipient oj honours which culminated when, in 1889. 
 he was 7nade a chevalier of the Legion of Honour. 
 With extraordinary resolution, he added twenty draw- 
 ings to the ninety already published, and these first 
 appeared, in London, in 1892, in the handsome folio 
 edition of Don Pablo, edited by Mr. H. E. JVatts. 
 The latest examples of the art of Vierge, except those 
 in the present volume, which have come under my 
 notice, are those executed in 1894 to illustrate La 
 
 W - 
 
 I ^ 
 f
 
 . DANIEL" VIERGE. 
 
 xvu 
 
 Nonne Alfarez of 
 M. '"Jose Maria de 
 Hcrt'cha. These are 
 numerous, and show 
 little change in the 
 style or in the cha- 
 racter oj Vierge's 
 talent, hut I do not 
 think it ivould he 
 true to say that 
 these productions of 
 his renascence equal 
 those of his prime 
 in charm. 
 
 In spite of the 
 enthusiasm 'which 
 many artists have 
 expressed in his 
 
 work, and in spite of the eloquent recommendations of Mr. foseph Pennell and of the late 
 Mr. Hamerton, the fame of Vierge has scarcely been commensurate with his talents. He 
 has suffered from the neglect of the public and from the exaggerated homage of one or two 
 
 ,-'',;''■-, , critics, generously expressed, but passing 
 
 ■ ■' ' -l^K' '^^^^i ; beyond all the bounds of moderation. It 
 
 ~^^^fc?'jk^^.»^L • '■'" '''^'•y ^^ comprehend and even to sympa- 
 
 *#?<^^^ 
 
 thise with the imperative desire to insist 
 
 r^ll'-'vV °" ^'^"' recoirnition of a talent so rem.irk- 
 
 „_, , v^^y sl "^ ^ "'^^''' ^"^ Fienre seems to be made m:rely 
 
 ^-"M^'^' I^^^^ J X'^V ridiculous when we are informed that his 
 
 \K~^ ' technique is more perfect than that of 
 Rembrandt and of Velasquez. It is not 
 necessary to indulge in these invidious 
 comparisons, which tend rather to divert
 
 XVlll 
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 interest from the artist^ than to dazzle 
 
 the reader into homage. We are not 
 
 helped to wider stand the value of this 
 
 nvonderful draughtsman by remarks of 
 
 a denigrating character made at the 
 
 expense of an old master. It is neces- 
 sary to refer to these extravagances of 
 
 criticism, of which more than one 
 
 prominent admirer of Vierge has heen 
 
 guilty, because they add extremely to 
 
 the task of dwelling dispassionately on 
 
 the qualities of the young Spanish artist. If partizans could but be persuaded that 
 
 no prejudice is so difficult to contend against as that raised by violent praise, how 
 
 fortunate it would be for the objects oj 
 their admiration ! 
 
 In two special guises M. Vierge 
 appeals to the eye, — as a recorder of 
 contemporary life, and as one masque- 
 rading in or reproducing the life of 
 past times. In the former capacity he 
 is difficult to follow, because the myriads 
 oj' his contributions to this class of 
 illustration have appeared almost exclu- 
 sively in the columns of ephemeral 
 newspapers ; his earliest published 
 drawings dating now from a quarter 
 of a century back. I'he present writer 
 has to confess himself less familiar 
 with these than with the antiquarian 
 designs, only a few oj the former having 
 remained long enough in his hands to 
 produce their full effect. It is, however.
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 XIX 
 
 '"■fit, 
 
 easy to perceive in these transcripts of the 
 emotions and actions of to-day an amazing sure- 
 ness and variety of observation. There is a 
 certain type of modern mind w/uch never seems 
 to forget ; Mr. Rudyard Kipling's is one 
 these, and, in a different art, M. Fierge's 
 is another. I am told that he has never 
 used photography to help h:m, and I am 
 prepared to hear it. I do not kmnv how 
 it could help him. M. de 
 Heredia has happily spoken of 
 his eyes as '■'■magic mirrors^' 
 and no kodak of human con- 
 struction could work so readily, 
 so clearly, and so constantly as '■ _^ -~ ". - —---^^ 
 
 these marvellous orgatis. His — — _-zl^^ 
 
 seems to be the visual sense which, when the body enters a room, or a space oj any kind, 
 instantly sweeps it and masters its entire contents, ready to reproduce tt to its minutest 
 salient details. 
 
 No more instructive example of M. Vierges contemporary drawings could be found 
 
 • '-■•;. than the "Dining Hall of the Lunatics at La 
 
 Salpetriere." Without emphasis, in a rather pale 
 and slight design, the scene is reproduced beyond the 
 power of forgetfulness. In the bright, 
 
 plain room, with its 
 stove, its neat tables, 
 its ivhitewashedwalls , 
 a light footed indif- 
 .,,;.^'-^ ferent maiden waits 
 V • " \ upon the guests. For 
 a moment, we do not 
 perceive what guests. 
 
 'i >.
 
 XX 
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 T'hcn we notice the grave oU nuvi, leaning back with closed, ecstatic eyes, ami 
 drumming on the table with gaunt and pointed finger-tips ; the rocking maniac, who 
 gibbers across his plate, waving and gesticulating to the jloor ; the old woman, in her 
 decent cap, weeping through her hands ; the wretch who twangs in delirious joviality an 
 invisible instrument, — each patient hopelessly isolated, pursuing, even through the moments 
 of a meal, the crazy illusion that possesses him. Nothing could he rendered with a 
 greater perfection, with more breadth of vision, yet always with the most perfect sobriety 
 and absence of efnphasis. For " Le Monde Illustre" Vierge portrayed in past times 
 
 a great number of political and social scenes, which ought not to be lost, since they 
 preserved in a remarkable way the most volatile details of the time. Among these, 
 one may be recalled, the presentation of the Infanta to the Lords temporal and 
 spiritual of Spain, cardinal-archbishops and duchesses competing to worship the naked 
 atom of royal fesh exposed on its nest of lace and cambric. Vierge f lis his work of this 
 class not merely with life and ?iovelty of character, but positively with colour, and 
 beautifies with his vivacious talent the most unpromising incidents and localities. 
 
 It is, ho%vever, as an illustrator of the life of the past, and particularly of Spain in 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, that Vierge displays his tnost characteristic genius.
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 XXI 
 
 He was born to realise for modern readers the picaresque types of the great Spanish 
 tradition. His masterpiece, the Pablo de Segovie, is a gallery of delicate little designs 
 in which the beggars, the rogues, the adventurers and the dowagers of ^evedd s satirical 
 romance live again under cur eyes. It is noticeable that Vierge has none of that 
 enslavement to costume which is the plagu: of the ordinary historical artist. His figures 
 are jiot paid Parisian models of i8So patiently sitting to be drawn in imitated sixteenth- 
 century dresses. The costume is natural ; it appears to have been always worn, 
 sometimes to have been outworn, by the personages who carry it, and who, themselves, 
 have visibly never been clad in garments of any other cut. The starved gentlefolks 
 who sit around a ttieagre * 
 repast, the coarse old 
 
 devotes striding to church 
 in their stiff' skirts, the 
 ffverdressed mulatto, with 
 his cat between his legs, 
 Don Toribio with his 
 broken nose and his muddy 
 mantle, — this whole cara- 
 vanserai of strange old 
 Spanish figures seems to 
 defile before us with a 
 veracity which is abso- 
 lutely convincing. 
 
 The technical methods 
 of Vterge are curious. 
 He delights in a clear 
 uniform line, which doubt- 
 less greatly aids the 
 process of tnechanical 
 reproduction. The uni- 
 formity of this line 
 sometimes becomes a trick, 
 and unpleasantly suggests 
 the deadness of a traced 
 outline. Often, it is 
 extremely happy, and 
 
 produces on the page a species of filigree, the general effect of which is very pleasant to 
 the eye. Closely examined, this impression of ornamental tracery or network resolves 
 itself into a design every part of which is defined with equal strength, without shadow, or 
 with certain shades rather capriciously indicated here and there, not exactly where nature 
 would place them, but where they suit the harmony of the filigree effect. In the midst 
 of this cobweb of lines, where no portion else is of at all a low tone, there will be 
 introduced a space of positive and unrelieved black, a monk's hood, a head of hair, part 
 of a woman s dress, a fragment of architecture. This is supposed to give the key to 
 the balance of the composition, and it is often put in with extraordinary cleverness.
 
 xxn 
 
 DANIEL VIERGE. 
 
 'This patch of black may be considered almost the sign-manual of Vierge. It is a 
 peculiarity ivhich may be enjoyed in him, but would be tiresome and tasteless m an 
 imitator, since it has no relation to real truth of tone, but is purely an element of 
 decoration. Vierge' s manner, then, is a curious amalgam of close and vivid realism 
 with a convention than which nothing could be more conventional. He owes something, no 
 doubt, in the scheme of his designs, to the practice of the fapanese in black and white. 
 
 Overwork and ill-health have sadly interfered with the development oj the genius of 
 Vierge, who is great, but who in circumstances more favourable might have been greater 
 still. It is certain that in 1881, when he was suddenly crushed by paralysis, his talent 
 was advancing by strides. The work he has done since his recoveiy is of marvellous 
 beauty when we consider under what difficulties and in resistance to what disabilities 
 it has been performed. At the present moment the artist has begun a Gil Bias, and 
 talks of attempting a Don Quixote. // remains to be seen whether his shattered 
 nervous system will support him through so trying an ordeal. But, come what may, we 
 possess the Don Pedro de Segovie, a work of high positive value which can never cease 
 to maintain a place among the most interesting performances of nineteenth century art. 
 
 EDMUND GOSSE. 

 
 CONTENTS
 
 Contents. 
 
 I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Officers op the Pont Neuf ...... 3 
 
 11. 
 
 For a Flower's Sake ....... 15 
 
 III. 
 A Smile of Fortune ........ 2/ 
 
 IV. 
 The Ballet of the King ....... 43 
 
 V. 
 
 The Rendezvous ........ 63 
 
 VI. 
 
 POISSON REQUIRES A COAT . . . . . . - 77 
 
 VII. 
 
 In which Poisson Plays a Comedy Part .... 09 
 
 VIII. 
 The Aquamarines ....... H"^ 
 
 IX. 
 
 A Betrothal Gift . . . . . • . • • 1^^ 
 
 X. 
 
 Ballo in Maschera .....•• 141
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
 
 List of Illustrations. 
 
 The Duke de Maufert leaves the gambliug hell .... 2 
 
 Maufert saw several shadows darting towards a sedan-chair . . 7 
 
 " In the sedan-chair, assailed by Caldegas and his men, was a young girl " 15 
 "The young man hastened to the door of the chair" ... 1/ 
 
 "The chair and its cortege moved off" . . . . .21 
 
 " Poisson took off his doublet and examined the wound " . . 23 
 
 " The mask turned and regarded him for a moment " . . .29 
 
 "'Dear martyrs,' she said to them, 'you will be avenged'" . . 3J< 
 
 The Count de Roquesante ....... 37 
 
 "When Gaston de Fleurbaix woke next morning in the poor lodging 
 where Raymond Poisson had offered him hospitality, he felt some- 
 what bewildered for a moment " . . . . . 45 
 
 " Poisson supported him as far as the stair-foot " . . . .49 
 
 " Gaston perceived Mile, de Rambouillet, and went to salute her " . 53 
 
 " Go, go quickly, Monsietir, I beg of you ! " . . . . .56 
 
 " The King traversed the whole length of the salon, receiving as he went 
 
 the deep curtsies of the women, the low bows of the men " . 5/ 
 
 '• The Pont-Neuf with its world of mountebanks, singers, and idlers " 63 
 
 "From six o'clock he was at his post on the Pont-Neiif" . . 65 
 
 " He drew near the parapet " . . . . • • 6/ 
 
 " With the first blow of his shoulder Roquesante forced the panels " . 69 
 " Then he threw himself at her feet "..... 73 
 
 " ' Here is the author,' said Riban " . . . . . -77 
 
 "The buyer turned to Poisson, and complimented him" . . 79 
 
 Poisson joined the players ....... <*^3 
 
 Poisson saw the three painted panels of the tavern ... S7
 
 XXX 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " While slowly writing he listened with all his ears " 
 
 " Gaston fired and stretched Marmissolle at his feet " . 
 
 Gaston and Poisson ....... 
 
 " ' Take this jjistol and this dagger ' " , 
 
 " Gaston threatened to shoot the postillion " . 
 
 " The carriage proceeded " ..... 
 
 He carried the graceful body of his beloved in his arms 
 
 The flight of Raymond ...... 
 
 " Do yonr prefer to make the acquaintance of this blade ? " 
 
 " Ah ! what a hnmorons fellow he was " (see page 95) . 
 
 Poisson made Caldegas yield np his captain's apparel 
 
 The carriage entered the yard of the castle 
 
 Lorenza opened the door ...... 
 
 She opened a cabinet of ebony ..... 
 
 "A man of suspicious appearance escorted her to the threshold" 
 
 page 121) . 
 Almost immediately the door opened ..... 
 
 " I saw . . . another inquisitive person slipping off " . 
 
 Gaston watched from the windows of a cabaret 
 
 " Do you feel better, mademoiselle ? " . 
 
 An hour later a carriage conveyed him with his lieloved 
 
 " I saw another incjuisitive person " . . . . 
 
 Oh, what a happy journey they made together! 
 
 They met the coach of the Marquis of Vallombrosa 
 
 As they rushed in, they saw Aurora stretched on a sofa, horribly pal 
 
 " I saw my ruffian again yesterday " . . . . 
 
 " The Countess and her friend seated themselves " . 
 
 (see 
 
 0.'{ 
 
 99 
 
 191 
 
 lot 
 ior> 
 107 
 
 109 
 113 
 114 
 115 
 
 117 
 lis 
 
 119 
 124 
 
 127 
 l.'U 
 
 i;{5 
 111 
 
 144 
 145 
 148 
 150 
 151 
 15a 
 154 
 
 15(;
 
 THE OFFICERS OF THE PONT NEUF.
 
 / 
 
 y 
 
 The Duke de Maufert leaves the eamblin" hell.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 THE OFFICERS OF THE PONT NEUF. 
 
 FOR three hours the Duke tie Maufert had been phiyiug at ramns.se 
 hi a jj:ainblin<!: hell, and losing with an inflexible persistence. At 
 length, taking the last handful of crowns that lingered in his 
 pocket, he threw them scornfully upon the cloth. Once more 
 luck was against him. The Duke greeted this disappearance 
 of his last stake with a smile Avhich a good haul w<mld not have won from him. 
 " Unlucky at play," he nnirnuired, "• lucky in love." He rose, buckled on 
 his rapier, drew on his gloves, took his cane, flung over his shoulders his black 
 velvet cloak, clapped upon his head the felt hat with its white feather, and left 
 the house. Rapidly, with the air of a man fearing to miss an appointment, he 
 hastened by the Rue de la Mouuaie to the head of the Pout Neuf. Once 
 there he slackened his pace. 
 
 It was a fine spring evening. The sky, which in the west still glowed 
 with the fires of sunset, passed by slight transitions to delicate tints of pale 
 turquoise, fading at last amid the invading blue. The shows were at that 
 moment dismissing their spectators. Tabarin lisid just rung down his curtain. 
 The Savoyard was gathering up his songs. Fat Thomas the quack was 
 packing his medicines and his wonder-working drugs. The hawkers, trading 
 by favour of the King's servants, were closing their stalls. At the entrance 
 to the bridge the chair-men were waiting for their fares, strap on back 
 and stick in hand, while the link-men were lighting their torches to conduct
 
 4 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 llic timid bourjfi'ois who dnred not move ;i< nisjflii wiiliout escort. Only yonntr 
 eyes could picirc the gi-owinjif shadow and recofjnise an expected figure in the 
 mob passinjf to and t'l-o. 
 
 Duke Henri de Maufert had the eyes of five-and-twenty. Placintr himself 
 in the middh> of <he road, he watched impatiently the high causeways which 
 extended ahnig the inside of the jiarapets and served as a footpath for 
 passengers. His attention was sharpened each tinu* that the siliiouettes of 
 two women walking together stood out against the sky. This was often the 
 case, for if the patrons of the mountebanks were at length thinking of honie 
 and supper, it was also tiie hour when the shop-girls came to meet their 
 sweethearts at the foot of the bronze horse. As the twilight deepened, there 
 appeared towns-women who had deserted their firesides, gallants in search of 
 adventures, and strange persons, rutlians of the sword and the roi)e, dregs of the 
 mercenary arnnes which survived the Fronde, who had not accepted on their 
 own account the peace between the City and the Regent. They poured out of 
 every street and alley. 
 
 Duke Henry grew visildy impatient. Of a sudden a rough hand seized his 
 mantle and plucked him violently backward. At the same moment a deep voice 
 cried — ■ 
 
 " Die ! " 
 
 Maufert disengaged himself (pnckly, sprang ))ack a pace or two, and drew. 
 His blade, scarce out of tiie scabbard, met the edge of another rapier. 
 
 " Cursed cut -throat," cried the Duke, " you shall pay dear for this im- 
 pertinence ! " 
 
 At this the deep voice, now joyous and friendly, exclaimed with a burst of 
 laughter — 
 
 "What? 'Tis Maufert! Well done, Maufert, no one catches you napping! 
 You are quick at the riposte." 
 
 " 'Tis that fool de Brillac," rejoined the Duke, laughing in his turn. " So 
 you are still at your mad pranks ? " 
 
 " Why not ? One nuist annise oneself a little. Moreover, I have b(>giin 
 a collection : I desire to finish it." 
 
 " What collect i(ni ? " 
 
 " Pdrhli'H, my collection of cloaks." 
 
 " Strange idea I How many have you ? " 
 
 "Two hundred and eight, all won after drinking, and lapier in hand, on 
 the Pont Neuf. I culled the first in the company of His Highness the Duke of 
 Anjou, who has encouraged me to form this gallery."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 5 
 
 " Cloaks fi'om coimfer-junipers ? — Fangli ! " 
 
 " Pardon, my fi'ieud, I am uot wool-gathering Ijiit silk-gatbering. I only 
 collect Coiii't mantles. Without boasting, I may say that I jjlay a part socially 
 useful. I am the touch-stone of courage, my dear fellow. Ah, the race is 
 degenerating. I ought to have lieen spitted a hundred times in playing this 
 game. Yet here I am ! The day before yesterday I attacked little Mussy, who 
 brags at the tavern. I expected a handsome resistance. Pitiable, my friend, 
 pitiable. Once alone, only once, my hobby has brought me a formidable 
 thrust, from that wild boar who calls himself Count of Rocpiesante. Three 
 mouths between life and death. And I never had his cloak I . . . But what 
 are you doing in my domain ? " 
 
 For some moments Henri de Maufert had ceased to listen. With his eyes 
 fixed on the right-haud parapet, he was observing two women who advanced 
 rajjidly, one somewhat bent and ho))bling, the other slim and upright. He 
 heard, however, Brillae's last question. 
 
 " Love and mystery," he replied, putting his finger upon his lips. 
 
 Brillac raised his hat and saluted Love, while Maufert hastened in pursuit 
 of Mystery. 
 
 The Duke spoke the truth when he threw the cloak-collector these two 
 great words. He had as it were the presentiment of a changeless love, which 
 would attach him for life to one of these women whose steps he had dogged 
 nightly for more than a week, but whose uanu' and age and very face were 
 still unknown to him. That passion grows terribly fast which is nourished upon 
 the unknown, which steeps itself in dreams, Avhich rouses in imagination all 
 the splendours of the ideal, which seems to defy the impossible. One night, in 
 the street, Maufert had passed this woman and her companion. She was 
 masked, as was the custom for women of quality ; but through the slits of her 
 domino the Duke had seen eyes that sparkled like two black diamonds. The 
 lace mantilla thrown over the thick coils of her hair only half concealed their 
 beauty. But what had attracted Duke Henry more than all else was the 
 rare elegance of her iigure, the harmony of her proportions, the charm of her 
 walk, and without accosting her he had set himself to follow the Unknown, 
 examining her, considering her in detail, and discovering by this scrutiny a 
 hundred new perfections. Where was she going ? Where did she live ? Who 
 was she ? Maufert had promised himself that he would know these things. 
 
 The first time he saw her, the Incognita, after Inning crossed the Pont 
 Neuf, had turned sharply round the Chateau Gaillard and vanished so com- 
 pletely that the Duke lost all trace of her. The next day and the next he had
 
 6 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 followed her trail in vain, and was despairing of ever linding her again, when 
 on <he third evening she reappeared upon the Pont Neiif. Mnufert approaehed 
 her and delivered himself of various fashionahle gallantries. She seemed not to 
 hear, ))ut as he beeanu' urgent and indiscreet, she threw him a look of wounded 
 dignity whieh abashed hiui as though he had insulted a queen. Maufert was 
 not aeeustomed to tind himself thus rebufTed. This reception, the difficulties he 
 foresaw, the apparent impossibility against which he was pitting himself, 
 augmented rather than extinguished his desire. He began to love this woman 
 terribly. All day he could think only of her. The masked woman haunted him 
 even during the orgies into which he Hung himself in order to escape her 
 besetting image. He found her again in his dreams. He swore to fly from her, 
 but every evening an invincil)le jiower drew him to his post, and he waited 
 hours with trembling heart, uiuible to Ijring himself to believe that she would 
 not come. At last she was there, within a few paces of him. He walked in 
 her shadow; he saw her; he would not allow her to escape him by a foot's 
 length. But in order that she should not disappear again, it was necessary 
 that she should not suspect his presence. To follow her, therefore, without 
 being observed, Maufert set himself to use all the arts customary in such cases. 
 He carefully refrained from climbing the parapet by the ste])s near King 
 Henry's statue ; he kei)t on the pavement where the shadow lay deepest, and he 
 advanced with the greatest precaution. Luck favoured him. Having approached 
 the Chateau Gaillard, the Incognita turned to see if she were followed. Hastily 
 the Duke slipped Ix-hind a wall. 
 
 Seeing nothing suspicious, the masked lady went on. She passed into the 
 Dauphin's Lane, and stopped before the door of a low house. Her duenna 
 seized the knocker, and knocked six times, two strokes at a tinu'. Innnediately 
 the door opened, and the Incognita entered the passage with her follower. 
 
 "The devil! " thought Maufert. 
 
 All at once an idea seized him and tortured him wildly. 
 
 She was keeping an a|)})ointment ! She had a lover I 
 
 Jealousy gnawed at his heart. For a moment he was a prey to mad 
 anger, during which he dreamed of nothing less than forcing the door of the 
 little house, and killing the man who was robbing him of this womsins love. 
 He sprang forward to put this insane project into execution, but opposite the 
 door he stopped. The aspect of the house was reassuring. The bower of a 
 lover could not be concealed in this nnsera)>le ruin, whose cracks betrayed the 
 misery within, whose filthy door inspired disgust. It would be but a poor lover 
 who should compel his mistress, formed to mount the marble steps of a palace,
 
 Maufert saw several shadows darting towards a sedan-chair.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 9 
 
 to come to him iu this hovel. But what other motive eouUl attract this queen- 
 like woman to such a spot ? 
 
 " I will know," thought Maufert to himself. And, resolved to wait, he 
 searched for a corner whence he could observe whnt ])assed. 
 
 The mysterious cottaife projected beyond the neig'hJ)ourin<>" houses. Th(> 
 Duke, th(U'<^r(n'e, had mdy to crouch in the aniyle nearest to the door. He had 
 not long to wait. 
 
 Five minutes had scarcely passed before he heard a sound of footsteps in 
 the passage. Almost at the same moment the creaking of the hinges told him 
 that the door was opening. Maufert crept closer into his hiding-place and 
 listened. The Incognita came out, followed by her duenna. She took two 
 steps into the street, then turned and said to a person whom the Duke could 
 not see — 
 
 " At the first signal, then ? " 
 
 " At the first signal," replied a man's voice, very resonant, and marked by 
 a strong southern accent, which made each syllable ring. "And on the honour 
 of Caldegas, you'll be satisfied. I return, I take my sword, and I fly to rejoin 
 my men who are at the Tavern of the Three Virtues. Ah, you '11 see them get to 
 work. They're not men to spare themselves. Unfortunately two of them, the 
 best I have, Marmissolle and Pochelu, only work well when their gullets are 
 wet. Poor devils ! You might well offer them some small encouragement, 
 Madame." 
 
 " Here ! " said the Incognita, disdainfully. 
 
 Maufert heard the rattle of a purse flung and caught in the air by the 
 practised hand of Caldegas. 
 
 "May the holy angels bless you!" quoth the Southerner, 
 
 The lady did not tarry for his thanks, but resumed her way to the quay. 
 Maufert allowed Caldegas time to re-enter the hovel, and then set himself 
 once more to follow his unknown fair. 
 
 The scene in which he had just taken part puzzled and interested him. 
 He asked himself to what end this woman, proud and distinguished as she 
 was, could seek an interview with such a ruffian. For what purpose could 
 she be employing him ? Here was a mystery, and the imagination of the 
 young Duke gave birth to a thousand guesses, not one of which came near to 
 satisfying him. He only became more keenly desirous of knowing this woman, 
 and discovering her secret. 
 
 The masked lady, instead of crossing the Pont Neuf, followed the quay 
 of the Augustins. She was now proceeding at a slow walk, and when she 
 
 3
 
 lo THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 had gone the length of a imisket-shot, she retraced her steps. Halt" an hour 
 passed. The Duke had takeu his stand iu one of the recesses built out 
 ni)oii the piles of the brldj^e. From here the mask was never out of his 
 si'^iit. He o))served that she never exehanifed a word with her <-haperone. 
 
 "Wlien a woman remains so long silent," tiiought he, "she must indeed 
 be preoccupied." 
 
 All at once, the Incognita came upon the bridge, and stood within the 
 same recess where Maufert had already ensconced himself. 
 
 The yountr mans pulse })eat violently when he found himself so close to 
 her. The opportunity offered him was unicpie. He already knew enough 
 of the lady"s projects to be sure that she would not leave the place to which 
 a powerful interest was binding her — that she would this time ))e forced to 
 listen to him at the pain of renouncing the schemes she had put in train. 
 Still, before commencing, he waited a moment. 
 
 Tiu' Incognita, erect, without a word, without a gesture, fixed her gaze 
 upon the entrance to the bridge. Maufert looked at her. He found her 
 more beautiful than ever in her robe of ferrandiiu', on which a clever dress- 
 maker had arranged some new lace in the Spanish style. 
 
 Without making a sound, Maufert drew yet nearer to tiu' fair mask and 
 glided Ix'hind her till he almost touched her. Then, in his softest tones, he 
 murmured these words in her ear: — 
 
 " Forgive, Madame, my audacity, my importunity. But I have already 
 told you — I love you ! " 
 
 She turned and recognised the young noble, whose declaration she had 
 once before rejected. An angry light glittered in her eyes; but, as the 
 Duke had already foreseen, she did not quit the post of observation she 
 occupied. 
 
 " I perceive you are deeply annoyed with me," he continued, " but you 
 are wrong. I do not pretend to think that I shall touch your heart with 
 my vows. But there are moments in life when one has need of great 
 devotion. Learn, then, Madame, that I am yours. At a word from you I 
 am prepared to sacrifice my life and my fortune. And methinks that at a sign 
 of your adorable hand, I could perform incredible deeds. If you would make 
 me happy, let me serve you. Command — I will obey. You only have power to 
 charm me. All that I see in other women does not equal what I divine in 
 you. I am not an adventurer in search of fortune. On the contrary, my 
 power is great — or, at least, I think it great. You alone cause me to realise 
 my weakness. To kiss these queenly hands, to touch this hair, at once my
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. ii 
 
 sorrow aud my joy, I would give my very soul. When cue is as beautiful 
 as you are, is if possible to be ciuel ? Will you uot take pity ou me?" 
 
 At this moment the masked lady threw forward her right arm aud 
 l)oiuted with an imperative tiuger. A loug whistle souuded almost at the 
 same iustaut. Maufert saw several shadowy iigures rush towards a sedau- 
 chair whieh was l)eiug earried across the bridge, escorted by a fat liuk-mau. 
 
 A tremeudous tumult arose. All at ouce a cry of terror, a woman's cry, 
 raug out. 
 
 Maufert was a brave man. At that summons his first iinpulse was to 
 respond ; he sprang forward, flung away his caue, aud seized the hilt of his 
 rapier. Before he c<udd withdraw the ])Iade from its scabbard, however, the 
 little gloved hand of the lady descended upon his arm, as though to restrain 
 it. He looked at her. Through her mask, her great ))la(k eyes were 
 iuHnitely tender. 
 
 " Follow me ! " she said. 
 
 He hesitated between his love and his duty as a gentleman. 
 
 "Is it thus that you do my bidding?" continued the lady in the mask. 
 
 With a brusque movement, he followed her.
 
 FOR A FLOWERS SAKE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 " III the sediiii-cliair, assailed liy Caldf'fjas and his men, was a yomi;. 
 
 .J 
 
 II. 
 
 FOB A FLOWER'S SAKE. 
 
 IT was indeed the cry of a woman that the Duke of Maufert had heard. 
 In the sedan-chair, assailed by Cahlegas and his band, was a young girl, 
 confided to the courage of the two chair-men and the vigilance of an 
 old family servant, the worthy Boucheron. Unfortunately, at the 
 beginning of the struggle, MarmissoUe had taken care to plant such 
 a blow in the ample stomach of the excellent Boucheron, that this person 
 had lost his breath forthwith and found himself incapable of either word or 
 deed. As to the ohair-nu'u, Bourguinon and Lafleur, when they saw the steel 
 of the rapier blades glittering before their eyes, their one idea was to drop 
 their burden, which fell sonu'what roughly upon the ground, and to make off 
 as quickly as possible, each in his own direction. 
 
 IS
 
 1 6 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 "Good!" said Pocholii ; " tliat is a little busiuess which has not cost us 
 much trouble." 
 
 Calde^as drew near the door of the chair. " Mademoiselle," lu^ bej^an, 
 politely, pullin<j olT his hat, "pray have no fear. Re so jj^ood as to step down. 
 No harm shall befall you, on the honour of a ifeutleman." 
 
 The younj? fj:irl found, no doubt, in my ffcntleman Caldejjas a fijifure nuu-e 
 suited to the thwarts of a t^alley than to tlu^ salons of a kin^. Throwing; her- 
 self vehenu'ntly towards the other door, she uttered a despairing cry of 
 " Help ! Help ! " 
 
 " It is useless to cry out," rejoined Caldegas ; " my plans are made, and 
 if you do not obey me with a good grace, you shall see, by Heaven ! " 
 
 The oath had hardly passed his lips when a hand fell upon his shoulder 
 and hurled him away from the chair. 
 
 " Out of the way, scoundrel ! " exclaimed a commanding voice. 
 
 "To the rescue, comrades!" shouted Caldegas; and Marmissolle ami 
 Pochelu rushed up with raised swords. 
 
 With his rapier, Caldegas pointed to the man who had interfered. He 
 was a handsome young fellow of perhaps twenty-two years. His eyes were 
 proud, his moustache was jauntily turned up, his black hair was flung back, 
 his forehead was high, his mouth half-open in a disdainful smile. He shot 
 a irlance of defiance at his assailants. 
 
 "You are only three!" he exclaimed. "That's few." And he engaged 
 Pochelu, who had advanced rather further than his comrades. The clash of 
 steel was heard, and of a sudden Pochelu fell back. 
 
 " Wounded ! " he cried. 
 
 " One less ! " said the stranger. 
 
 " Have a care ! " said Pochelu to his comrades ; " the fellow fights 
 well." 
 
 " He will find his master," retorted Caldegas. 
 
 " Perhaps ! " 
 
 The young girl who was the cause of this strange battle, anxiously 
 followed the combat from her chair, more dead than alive. 
 
 Taking the advice of Pochelu, Caldegas and Marmissolle acted with pru- 
 dence, and mauffiuvred to separate themselves in order to render his defence 
 more difficult to their adversary ; but they had to do with a tough customer. 
 Always ready to parry, always prompt with the riposte, the single rapier 
 met the attack of their two swords with marvellous agility. Already Marmis- 
 solle had received a thrust in his doublet which had rent the ancient cloth.
 
 " The young man hastened to the door of the chau-."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 19 
 
 Marmissolle did not like to have his clothes injured, even when they were 
 old ones ; he became more exasperated, and charged like a bull. 
 
 Meanwhile, people were passing over the })ri(lge. These were belated 
 townspeople. Hearing the click of swords, they returned at a run, and the 
 duel of three continued in the moonlight. 
 
 " He is tiring," cried Caldegas ; " we have hiui ! " 
 
 "Not yet!" 
 
 " What ! — two to one ? " came suddenly in a resonant voice ; and a black 
 shadow placed itself beside the gentleman who was defending himself with so 
 much ability. This shadow also held a sword. Addressing itself to the young 
 man — " You permit me ? " it inquired. And without waiting for a reply, it 
 turned aside the blade of Caldegas and took for its share the half of this 
 unequal combat. 
 
 Finding himself alone opposite MarmissoUe, the unknown, from being 
 the attacked, became the attacker. Unfortunately, a passing cloud rendered 
 the scene of battle more obscure, and in the struggle both swords took effect. 
 
 MarmissoUe rolled on the ground. 
 
 " Two less ! " said the stranger. 
 
 " Do you desire me to surrender to you the third ? " asked the Shadow, 
 courteously. 
 
 " Thank you. I ]>elieve that I also have a scratch on the right arm. 
 Nevertheless " 
 
 " Let be ! " cried the Shadow ; " let be ! " 
 
 But the fat Boucheron had had time to get his breath, during this rather 
 extended struggle, and he had run, as fast as his great ])elly allowed him, in 
 search of reinforcements. He returned with lanterns and men armed with 
 sticks. Caldegas perceived that it would be all over with him if he remained 
 where he was, so giving his adversary the slip, he decamped with all possible 
 speed. 
 
 "A pity!" said the Shadow; "I should have found a certain pleasure in 
 spitting him." 
 
 The young man hastened to the door of the chair. The moon, freed from 
 the veil of clouds that had obscured her for a moment, shone now in all her 
 brilliancy. By her light, he saw the face of the girl whom he hiid defended, 
 and he was seized with admiration. 
 
 An adorable young girl. She had fair hair which fluttered in coquettish 
 tendrils upon her forehead, and— charming contrast — large dark eyes, deep, 
 pensive, wherein a little terror could still be discerned. The outline of the nose
 
 20 THE TAVERN OK THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 was graceful and the nostrils delicate and ]):ili)itaiing. Her lips, rather full, 
 
 shone with the scarlet of the cherry upon a skin pale with enu>iion. But 
 
 details could give no idea of all the youihful grace, the piipiant charm, the 
 
 tender beauty in this sweet face. The young man, who had not trembled to 
 
 face three swords, lost countenance before this ideal vision. 
 "Mademoiselle," he nmrnmred, "you are saved." 
 "Ah, sir," she replied, "how can I ever thank you enough?" 
 She still trembled somewhat, and her tremors gave her soft voice an 
 
 added softness. 
 
 "I am too happy," he said, "to have found myself on the spot, and the 
 
 pleasure of seeing you once more free is too great a recompense for the Utile 
 
 I have done.— But here are your servants, Madenu)iselle." 
 
 There they were indeed. Big Boucheron, very voluble, very nnich excited, 
 
 as important as though he had put a band of brigauds to flight with his own hand. 
 "They have got away, the cowards! We have routed them." 
 The young man smiled at these boasts. 
 
 " You see," he said to the young girl, " all your rescuers are here." 
 "You, you alone!" said she, extending her hand to him. The young man 
 
 bent to kiss it. 
 
 Meanwhile the chair-men had resunu'd their places. Boucheron, as self- 
 appointed general, had placed four link-men at each of the four corners of the 
 chair, aiul two men with cudgels in the rear and two other men with cudgels 
 in the van. 
 
 "With Mademoiselle's permission," said he, respectfully, "we will proceed 
 upon our way. The Marclii(jness might feel uneasy." 
 
 "Adieu, and thank you," said she to the youug num. 
 
 The chair and its cortege moved off, and the young man watched it dis- 
 appear. They had gone but a few steps when the youug girl appeared at 
 the window looking in his direction and made a gesture as though throwing 
 something to him. He stooped and found at his feet a little bunch of flowers. 
 He picked it up, kissed it, and stood rooted to the spot, breathing the 
 sceut of the flowers which had opened with the warmth of her bosom, and 
 gazing always towards the point where she was disappearing, as though his 
 happiness were disappearing in the same direction. She was out of sight 
 and still he remained on the spot, forgetting everything in the thought of her, 
 when he felt something trickling down his baud. He looked ai it. It was 
 blood. At the same moment he experienced a sensation of giddiness. He 
 attempted to steady himself, l)ut his faintuess increased.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 21 
 
 " Am I jLfoiug to fall now ? " 
 
 " Probably," answered a voice that he had already heard. " But I am at hand." 
 "Ah — the Shadow," murmured the wounded man. "Kindly Shadow!" 
 He fell into the arms of the Shadow, which fortunately possessed a body. 
 A few moments later, the sensation of cold water upon his face brought 
 him to himself. 
 
 " You are very weak ? " 
 "A little." 
 
 :!fet 
 
 ■-"--X 
 
 
 
 I; lew 
 
 '■,..,- 
 
 t^K^. 
 
 'The chair and its cortege moved off." 
 
 " Could you, by leaning on my arm, reach a house very near, upon the 
 Morfondus quay ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Come, then." 
 
 "Sir, you have already rendered mv a great service in tlie uuist gallant 
 fashion in the world but a moment since — - — " 
 
 " Let us say no more about that." 
 
 "On the contrary, let us speak of it; for I am truly grateful to you.' 
 
 "You tire yourself more by talking; wait till I have made you well." 
 
 " Are you a doctor ? "
 
 22 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " I am — inaiiy tliiugs — aud even a bit of a surjjoon." 
 
 " May I kuow your name ? " 
 
 " I have none." 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " I have, of course, my father s uanie — Poisson, and the tirst-name of my 
 godfather — Raymond. But both these have been given me, and I don't think 
 one has right to a name till one knows enough to make it for oneself. What 
 do you think? " 
 
 "You are right. Not to be behindhand, I will mention to you ihat my 
 lather is called Ihe Count of Fleurbaix, aud my godfather is Monseigueur 
 Gaston of France. I need not add that I am wholly at your service." 
 
 " Here we are." 
 
 "So much the better." 
 
 "We have si ill, however, to get upstairs. That will be diflicult." 
 
 "Let us try." 
 
 "I live in the attic." 
 
 " Mores the pity. You deserve better things than that." 
 
 " I have always thought as nuicli." 
 
 " Tell me, what is this costume that you wear — this tight black dress 
 which makes you like a shadow?" 
 
 " These are the cast-off clothes of a Spanish deserter with whom I had a 
 little dispute. He desired to assassinate me. I desired that he should not. 
 In a word, after a short explanation, he discovered that he would have no 
 further need of clothes. Mine were shabby, so I attired myself in the spoils 
 of war." 
 
 " You are something of a humourist." 
 
 " It is more or less my trade. Ouf ... I am opening the door. Enter. 
 Stop — don't sit down in that chair. Time himself has sat in it and broken 
 one of its legs. Stretch yourself rather upon the bed." 
 
 Gaston extended himself upon the pallet. Poissou took off his doublet 
 and examined the wound. 
 
 "Nothing serious," said he; "in three days you will be on your feet." 
 
 "Ah, no," said Gaston; "I must be on my feet to-morrow. The parts in 
 the King's ballet are to be distributed." 
 
 "We will attempt to consolidate you. But in that case, keep quiet. Do 
 not inhale the scent of that bouquet — that gives headache. By the same token, 
 it would be better for those flowers to drink a little water — they would be the 
 fresher for it to-morrow. Now, try and sleep."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 23 
 
 " Thank you," said Gastou ; " I obey the Faculty." 
 
 He turued to the wall ; but sitting up again innnediately, " You don't 
 happen to have any curling-pins ? " he inquired. 
 
 " What are they ? " 
 " What ! you don't know what curling-pins are ? They arc a marvellous 
 invention which comes to us from Spain. With curling-pins, one puts one's 
 moustache in curl in the evening, and next day makes a charming appearance 
 without the assistance of tongs. But you haven't any curling-pins ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " That's a pity." 
 
 " A great pity. Good night." 
 
 --=*7 , 
 
 V:\ ■■ 
 
 
 Poisson took ott' his doublet and examined the wound."
 
 A SMILE OF FORTUNE.
 
 III. 
 
 A SMILE OF FORTUNE. 
 
 THE luc'ognita had said, " Follow me ! " and Henri de Maufert followed 
 her. Duty had called him elsewhere, towards that scuffle whence 
 a cry had issued which appealed to the sword of a gentleman. 
 He felt this confusedly — just enough to tell himself that he had 
 sacrificed something to the mysterious woman at whose side he was 
 now walking, no longer like a disinterested person who had only snnl)s to expect, 
 but like an accomplice to whom, at the very least, confidences wei-e due. "NVliat 
 he had seen and heard, although it had not completely enlightened him, had 
 nevertheless taught him that the masked lady had long prepared the ambush of 
 which he had witnessed the first scene, and at one moment it had been in his power 
 to arrest its development and break up all these plots with a stroke of his rapier. 
 He thought of all this while he acconnnodated his pace to that of the Incognita, but 
 he thought more than all of the happiness it was to be at length beside her, 
 authorised, summoned by herself. He had offered her his devotion, and she had 
 accepted it. His heart beat high, and he did not dare to be the first to speak. 
 The Incognita, moreover, was obviously nervous and impatient. When they came 
 to the end of the bridge, on the right bank, she stopped, and Maufert did the 
 same. A few moments after, the sedan-chair, preceded by the majestic Boucheron 
 and his link-men, passed in front of them. 
 
 At sight of this the Incognita could not restrain a motion of anger. 
 " Malediction ! " she muttered. 
 
 " Here is something that plays into my hand," thought the Duke, and turning 
 to the mysterious lady he said : 
 
 27
 
 2 8 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 "Possibly you are vvroiif'', Madaiiu', to employ common fiit-throats, when you 
 could have fouud a man of feeling' ready to devote himself to you." 
 
 The mask turned to Henri de Maufert, and regarded him for a nuiment. 
 
 "You are a genileman ? " she said at length. " IJut what am I asking you? 
 Oiu' can see ihat y(Mi are." 
 
 " You do well to ask, Madanu'. Since the Fronde, iliere is so much disorder, 
 so nmch confusion in the State, that common people strive to be gallant like 
 nobles, and the ])ourgeois wear the sword as though it were their right by ))irth ; 
 and if the dardiiial had not wisely ordered servants to wear braid on their 
 sleeves, one would often be unable to tell the master from the man. However, 
 so far as I am concerned, you may be at ease — I am a gentleman." 
 
 "I have never doubted it. Your appearance and" — she added — "your 
 ell'rontery bespeak the courtier." 
 
 " My effrontery ? " 
 
 " And how else would you describe the gallantries you have pressed upon ine, 
 each time we have met ? " 
 
 " Then you deigned to listen to them ? But you gave no sign of it." 
 
 " It's not the less true that nothing is more impertinent than such compliments 
 addressed to a woman you do not know, whose face you have not even seen." 
 
 "When one meets the idol, may one not offer a prayer?" 
 
 " Do not place me so high. I do not step down to earth from heaven. 
 I am a plain mortal, a little citizen's daughter." 
 
 " No, Madame^ ! A thousand times, no ! " 
 
 " No ? How hotly you say that ! Perhaps you do not believe me ? " 
 
 " Madame, I love you ; I adore you ; })ut it pains me to add that I do not place 
 the least faith in what you have told me. " 
 
 " That is rather strong language." 
 
 " It is not strong, it is simple. No, Madame, you are not a modest little 
 bvur^-foi.sr. Tell that to some provincial squire, but not to me. I was born in 
 Paris ; I have lived in town and at Court long enough to have learned to distinguish 
 a woman of (piality, even beneath a mask. That little foot, whose point peeps out 
 below the hem of your gown, tells of high descent. It is perhaps too small for 
 a Parisienne; but some like it have come to us from Spain and Italy." 
 
 " You think so ? " 
 
 " And that hand — permit me for a moment to hold it, to examine it. The hand 
 of an Infanta. You see — that hand betrays you." 
 
 " You should be good at fortune-telling." 
 
 " Because I guess rightly, is it not? "
 
 
 ' The mask turned and regarded him for a moment.'
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUIiS. 31 
 
 " Well, ye.s ; aud uow that you kuow to what class I belong, I expect you to 
 eud this ti-itliug." 
 
 " Do you hud it, theu, so hnteful ? " 
 
 " The compliments which may he native to the drawing-room are out of phu-e 
 in the street, when addressed to a woman of my position." 
 
 " Ah, your pride makes you more beautiful ! " 
 
 "Enough, sir; let us speak seriously." 
 
 " I have not spoken otherwise, Madame. I love y<ni very seriously ; very 
 seriously I tell you so." 
 
 She made a gesture of impatience. He continued : 
 
 " Listen to me, Madame. I know more than you think. I know that you 
 throw purses of gold to cut-throats ; and I saw, a few monu'uts later, what these 
 cut-throats undertake at your orders. What is it all about ? I do not know. 
 Who are yon pursuing with your vengeance, or your justice ? I am ignorant of 
 that also. But I see that you are engaged in sinister undertakings, where you 
 may well run some risk. To be reduced to making an appeal to such rascals, 
 Madame, you must be without father, brother, or lover to make your quarrel 
 his own." 
 
 " Alas ! " 
 
 "Then, Madame, believe that Providence, or Fate, or the Devil — whichever 
 you prefer — provides you with the devotion that you lack. Make use of me ! I 
 belong to you because I love you. And in order that you may not doubt either 
 the sincerity of my words, or the strength of the sentiment with which you have 
 inspired nu', permit me to make myself more formally known to you. I am the 
 Duke Henri de Maufert." 
 
 "The Duke de Maufert! " cried she, with happy surprise. 
 
 " My nauK' is already familiar to you ? " 
 
 " One nnist be indeed ignorant, not to know one of the most ancient and most 
 glorious families of France." 
 
 " May I hope, Madame, that you will now show me a little more confidence." 
 
 " Surely," she said, and gave him her hand. He ))eut and kissed it. 
 
 " I should, also," added the masked lady, " tell you in my turn who I am. 1 
 shall certainly do so one day, if, as I believe, I find you as faithful in the future as 
 you have been eager up till now. Let it suffice you to kuow just uow that my 
 family is one of the oldest in Venice, and that I am the most wretched of women." 
 " You, wretched ! Is there any way in which I can relieve your sufferings ? 
 Should it cost me my life, I will do what may be done." 
 
 " Thank you," she said, sadly. " But you can be of no help to me to-day."
 
 32 THE TAVERN OF THE THKEE VIRIUES. 
 
 " I regret it (lee|)ly.'" 
 
 " It is now time for you to leav<' iiie." 
 
 " Already ? " 
 
 " Yes, uiy friend. " 
 
 " Who claims your time ? Have you uot given me to understand that you have 
 neither father, })rother, nor lover ? " 
 
 " Alas,'" said she, " I have a husband." 
 
 " A husband ! " He flung the word out angrily. Such was the passion of his 
 love, he could not admit the possibility of another man having rights over this 
 woman. " I hate your husband I He is jealous, is he uot ? " 
 
 "• Terribly and cruelly." 
 
 " He is the chief cause of your unhappiness? " 
 
 " Let us speak no more of him, I pray you, and say adieu." 
 
 " Adieu ? Never ! I nuist see you again. Tell me when I may have that 
 hai)piness ? " 
 
 " But why expose yourself " 
 
 " I fear nothing." 
 
 " Truly, it woidd be wiser to forget me." 
 
 " How can I ? I beg of you ; if you desire that I should not die, if you 
 do uot wish me to commit the most extravagant follies in order to find you again, 
 tell me where and when I may be allowed to speak to you." 
 
 "You are resolved upon it? " 
 
 " Passionat<'ly." 
 
 " Very well. The day a Her to-nu)rrow, in the evening, on the Pout Neuf." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " . 1 « rcntir ! " 
 
 "You would part fr<un nu* like this without granting nn' the favour I 
 crave ? " 
 
 "What favour?" 
 
 "Will you not raise the corner of your mask to let nu: look upon your 
 face, if it be only for a nu>meut ? " 
 
 " Sine*' you wish it," said she. 
 
 She raised her mask, and the Duke de Maufert was da/zled by the strange 
 and splendid ))eauty thus revealed. He had not been deceived in thinking 
 her beautiful. What he saw surpassed whal he had dreamed. Eyes — innuense 
 eyes, black, brilliant, and profound. No doubt their expression often varied, and 
 when armed with se\ erity, these eyes must be terrible ; but for the moment 
 they only strove to please. He read divine promises in their depths. Every-
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 33 
 
 thiiiff harmonised in lliis faci', with its iino i-eguhii- featuves, its clear paUor, 
 whose rosy lips, a little thiu, parted in the smile of an enchantress to show 
 teeth of a dazzling whiteness. 
 "How beautifnl you are I" 
 
 " This time," said she, readjiistiuir her mask, " I will leave you in good 
 earnest." 
 
 "One word more, a single word. Tell me your nanu' that I may repeat it 
 in my dreams." 
 
 " You really desire to know it ? " 
 " I beg it of you, on my knees." 
 
 He had stooped to take her hand, which he was kissing feverishly. She bent 
 oyer and murmured in his ear — 
 " Lorenza." 
 
 Then she fled, with light steps, and her duenna hurried after her. 
 Maufert remained in the same place, dazzled, enchanted, happy. So far 
 as possible, his eyes followed the beauty whose confidence he htid at last gained ; 
 but she disappeared (piickly down a turning. Then the young Dnke retraced his 
 steps, and following the course of the Seine, he regained his hotel, bearing in 
 his heart hke a treasure this name Lorenza, which he said over to himself cease- 
 lessly, and in which he found an infinite charm. 
 
 As for the Siguora Lorenza, when once she had assured ln'rself that Maufert 
 was no longer following her, she directed her steps rapidly through the small 
 streets of the Marais quarter to a large hotel, which faced the Hotel Lamoignon. 
 Her attendant raised the chased bronze knocker and k-t it fall. The door 
 opened immediately, and the two wonu'u passed into ii spacious entrance hall. 
 " Has my husband returned ? " asked the Signora Lorenza. 
 " The Count has not yet returned," answered the porter. 
 
 She gave a sigh of relief, for she was anxious to l)e alone. Dismissing her 
 silent attendant with a gesture, she went up to her apartnuMits and shut herself 
 into a room where no one was allowed to disturb her. 
 
 It was a chandler strangely furnished. It partook of the nature of boudoir 
 and oratory. There were thick carpets, rich draperies, a low divan covered with 
 cushions, large arm-chairs, a Venetian looking-glass framed in little onyx pillars 
 and enriched with fine beads; a rich Florentine cabinet, inlaid with ivory, and 
 a beautiful chandelier in rock crystal, the candles of which were lighted. All 
 these things pointed to habits of elegance and luxury in Lorenza; but it was 
 surprising to see, amid these worldly surroundings, gloomy and sombre pictures. 
 The first was a large Christ, brown and bleeding on His ci'oss, a piteous 
 
 6
 
 34 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 sufferer, such us painters of the Spanish School have ever loved to depict. At 
 the feet of the dyinjf Lord stood a pric-divH in carved wood. To the ri^hl and 
 left of the Christ were two portraits : one represented a gentleman of haughty 
 mien, the other a lady in a ball-dress. On the ojjposite panel, two terrible 
 scenes were represented. The tirst was at the gate of the Louvre ; one saw 
 there a powerful noble, escorted by his friends, about to visit the King, when 
 
 ' Duar iiKU'tyrs,' she said to theiii, 'you will be avenj^efl.' " 
 
 suddenly a caplain of ilic guard sprang forward and plunged a sword inio his 
 breast. The noble dying thus in the palace of his King, at the inouuMit that 
 he found himself at the summit of his dignities. Marshal and First Minister, 
 resembled the gentleman whose portrait hung opposite. 
 
 The other scene represented was the Place de la Greve. In the square were 
 a stake and a pile of faggots, which the hand of the executioner was about 
 to fire, aiul to the stake was bound the headless body of a woman. And
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 35 
 
 the head of this woiiiaii, which had roUed to the ground, stained with blood, 
 resembled the great lady in the ball-gown, whose portrait was hung beside the 
 Spanish Christ. 
 
 Often Lorenza passed before these sanguinary ])ictiires, and the fire that 
 burnt in her great eyes l)etrayed the violence of the thoughts that agitated her. 
 This time, as she laid aside her mantle, she cast a joyful look at the two portraits. 
 
 " Dear martyrs," she said to them, "you will be avenged! " 
 
 The martyrs so dear to Lorenza were none other than the Marshal D'Aucre 
 and his wife, Leonora Galigaii. 
 
 Every one knows the astonishing history of this Italian adventurer, this 
 Concino-Couciui, son of a Florentine notary, who came to France in KKMI, 
 wh(^n Marie de' Medici married Henry IV. Leonora CTaligai, woman of the 
 bedchamber and favourite of the Queen, placed all her influence at the service 
 of her husband. In a short time the Italian's political fortunes had reached 
 a great height. In the first place, he purchased a title, the Marquisate of Auere. 
 Shortly after, he was made Governor of Normandy ; without having ever drawn 
 a sword, he obtained the title of Marshal of France. The death of Henry IV. 
 only increased his ambition. Strong in the support of the Queen-Mother, he 
 became First Minister of young Louis XIII. No counsellor ever showed himself 
 more autocratic in his desires, never was a parvenu so insolent in his grandeur. 
 He seemed to do his best to humiliate the highest in the land, and did not even 
 seek to conciliate the King, his master, while his favourites and Leonora's 
 enriched themselves and imitated his assurance. 
 
 Among her intimate friends was a little cousin of the Marquise, an orphan, 
 Francesca Galigai by name, whom she had brought from Italy and to whom 
 Leonora's favour promised a brilliant future. Already several suitors had pre- 
 sented themselves for the hand of Francesca, who was in all the beauty of her 
 twenty years; but the Marshal, very ambitious for his little relative, had said, 
 " Let us wait awhile." But the unequalled presunq)tion of the Marshal D'Ancre 
 exasperated the French nobility. The varied hatreds provoked by the favourite, 
 understood one another in secret, came together, united. A plot was organised 
 of which the Marquis of Vallombrosa was the soul. This man knew enough of 
 the human heart to guess that the young King bore with impatience the despotism 
 of his First Minister and desired to govern for himself. Cunningly he sounded 
 the feelings of Louis XIII., and found that they agreed exactly with his sup- 
 positions. Thereupon, seizing the flrst occasion which offered, he insisted to the 
 Queen-Mother on the faults of the favourite, on his depredations, and on the 
 insolence of this stranger who usurped the royal authority for his private profit.
 
 36 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 Law was on his side, and wlion Valloiiibrosa decided that there were all tlie 
 eleiiieuts of liiyh treason in Cloueiiii's acts, which merited the penalty of death, 
 the King gave a sign of approval. One honr later, the Marslial D'Aucre was 
 mortally wonnded l)y the sword of Captain Vitry, an and)itions person of minor 
 rank. 
 
 In the same measnre as the fortnne of the favourite had been extraordinary, 
 the fall of his family was prodigious. All the Marshal's property was conliscated. 
 His wife, whom Marie de' Medici dared not support, so high did popular feeling 
 run, was accused of sorcery and was coudenmed to be beheaded and burnt. As 
 to the sou of the Marshal, he was made the object of a solemn decree on the part 
 of Parliament which declared him " ignoble, and iuca])able of holding any olfice 
 in the kingdom." 
 
 Fraucesca Galiga'i was twenty years of age when this disaster occurred in 
 1(11 7. In an hour she saw all her dreams of riches and happiness crumble 
 away. She was pi'eseut at the long martyrdom of the Marquise — at the 
 sacrifice of the mother who had adopted her, and the rememlirance of it was 
 branded indelibly upon her heart. From that time she lived only to hate, and the 
 life of misery to which she was condemned was not calculated to a])pease her 
 hatred. The resources furnished by the sale of a few jewels saved from the wreck 
 enabled her to exist in poverty for several years. She employed her time in secret 
 study of the proceedings of the Marshals enemies, which taught her that all her 
 hatred should be directed agaiust the Marcpiis of Vallombrosa. In her own mind 
 she condennied him, and all his descendants with him. But what could she do, 
 alone, without money, against so powerful a no))le. Wait for him, follow him, 
 assassinate him ? No. Death would not seem punishment enough. She recpiired 
 a more refined vengeaiu-e. 
 
 This woman, in whose lu'east these dark projects were hidden, was reduced to 
 the last pitch of misery when she eiu-ountered a soldier of fortune, who had attained 
 the rank of captain and had sullicitmtly plundered the enemy to amass some 
 honest savings. Hi' was forty years of age and desired to rest ; Fraucesca was 
 thirty, ami beautiful ; he married her. This was in lf!27. A year later, they had 
 a daughter who was christened Lorenza. The education of this child was a 
 strange one : her mother devoted her to hate instead of to love. She was early 
 habituated to the idea that vengeance was a high mission, that it raised a human 
 being to partnership with the Almighty, to be au instrument of su])reme justice. 
 She was taught in what measure the obscure role of a woman may be powerful 
 and predominating in all things. " Men," said her mother to her, " are but 
 pawns in our game. First determine, and then know how to wait — with this
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
 '^ 
 
 V 
 
 == J r ' ■ 
 
 The Count de Eoquesante.
 
 THE TAVERN OK THE THREE VIRTUES. 39 
 
 maxim we dominate tlie world. You are beautiful, Loreuza, and I rejoiee in 
 it, uot from any idle sentiment of maternal pride, but because beauty is the 
 most deadly of all our weapons. The more beautiful you are, the more terrible 
 will you be." 
 
 At the age of eighteen, Lorenza was as cunning and as sceptical as 
 Machiavelli. Her heart overflowed with the hatred her mother had inspired 
 in her for the Vallombrosas. All her natural enthusiasm and all the violence 
 of her Italian temperament were concentrated in the one thought : " How shall 
 I exterminate this family?" "You are beautiful, very beautiful," said Francesca 
 to her again ; " you nmst be very rich. Riches are a means of action which 
 must uot be despised. You will obtain riches Ijy marriage." 
 
 The desired match did not present itself immediately, although mother 
 and daughter used every possible effort to secure it. At length it pre- 
 sented itself in the unattractive form of the Count de Roquesante. The 
 Count was fifty, violent, brutfd, and jealous — a wild boar, as Brillac had 
 said. A terrible scar completely disfigured him, but he possessed a con- 
 siderable fortune and had access to the Court. The beauty of Loreuza 
 had driven him wild with passion ; he was ready to marry beneath him in 
 wedding her. Lorenza accepted him, became a Countess, and thus found herself 
 a member of the same world as the Vallombrosas. From that time she believed 
 her vengeance to be near at hand. But she had not suspected the sacrifice to 
 her hate which she had made of her youth, when she gave it in exchange for 
 a Countess's coronet and a fortune. 
 
 From the morrow of her marriage, her husband was odious to her. He 
 knew it, and from that nu)uuMit their common existence becanu' a hell. The 
 Count's passion for her, instead of cooling, was intensified by his wife's c(ddness. 
 Every day there were scenes of violence and reproach, cruel suspicions and 
 terrible threats. Lorenza's mother, her consolation iu evil hours, fell gravely 
 ill in the midst of all this. Her death-bed woke no forgiveness iu her heart, 
 and iu the fever of her dying agony she cursed the Vallombrosas anew, and 
 exacted an oath from her daughter to consecrate her whole life to vengeance. 
 
 Lorenza fouiul herself alone, the prey of a cruel and brutal husband, without 
 one gentle thought iu her breast. Never was there an existence nH)re sad than 
 hers; cloistered by Roquesante iu the vast, cold hotel, where he would receive 
 nobody, or in his fortress of Ro(iuesante-eu-Yveline, whose portcullis was never 
 lowered to admit a visitor. In her isolation, in her weariness, one single hope 
 sustained her — that of succeeding in what she termed her mission. Surrounded 
 by the souvenirs of the Marshal D'Ancre and his wife, her sombre pleasure
 
 40 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 was to watch tlioir siiiisti'i' countcnniK'os snid to fonii long projects against 
 those whose rnin she contenii)hite(l. Hei* only joy was a joy in evil. . IJnl 
 to-day, Loreiiza was happy. Although her ambuscade had failed, luck had done 
 even better for her in jjiacing Duke Henri de Maufert in her path. This 
 young man, who had ardently sworn her sm eternal love aud au utter devotion, 
 was — as Lorenza well knew — betrothed to the only daughter of the Manpiis 
 of Vallombrosa.
 
 THE BALLET OF THE KING.
 
 IV. 
 
 THE BALLET OF THE KING. 
 
 WHEN Gaston de Fleurbaix woko next morning in the poor 
 lodging where Raymond Poisson liad offered him hospitality, 
 he felt somewhat bewildered for a moment, but a frank l)urst 
 of laughter from his host reealled to his mind the incidents 
 of the previous evening, and provoked an outburst of 
 merriment on his own part. Besides, Poisson had an infections laugh. On 
 his broad, carefully shaven face, the smile widened in a manner so natural 
 and so contagious, that it was difficult for the beholder not to join in his 
 mirth. The gaiety of his face, moreover, made a contrast with his black 
 costume, from which humour sprang inevitably. 
 
 " Good," said Poisson, " my wounded friend is better ; we will proceed, 
 however, with the dressing." 
 
 The examination of the wounds was most reassuring. 
 
 "In a week it will be nothing; but from now till Ihen, I advise complete 
 rest." 
 
 "Rest! Yon think so? I must go to-day to the Palace. The parts in a 
 ballet in which our young King will dance are being distributed ; it is of the 
 first impoi'tance. I am a courtier, my friend, and a soldier. I believe in doing 
 my duty equally well at Court as in Ijattle, and I should no sooner desert befoi-e 
 Bensevade than before the enemy." 
 "This is folly." 
 
 " It is and)ition — it is love ! I have dreamed all night long, my dear host, 
 of the delicious vision I had, yesterday evening, of that adorable young lady. 
 
 43
 
 44 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 I must find licr again. Under these circumstances, you will easily understand 
 that there is no rest possible for me." 
 
 " You are a (jueer sort of invalid ! I did well to abandon medicine. Well, 
 try to raise yourself; if you can manage to stand, I will authorise you to go 
 out." 
 
 Ten minutes later, Gaston de Fleurbaix was on his feet. Somewhat un- 
 steady at first, he soon recovered from his giddiness. 
 
 " My legs are a little shaky," he said, " but that will pass if I smell these 
 flowers." And he took the little bouquet he had won so valiantly the day before. 
 In point of fact, he soon found himself in a condition to leave the lodging. 
 Poisson supported him as far as the stair-foot, and departed to find him one of 
 the fiacres for which the Marquis de Guitry had recently obtained the privilege 
 of standing in the public way. 
 
 " My dear friend, when shall I see you again ? " asked Gaston of Ray- 
 mond Poisson. 
 
 " Whenever you like." 
 "Where?" 
 
 " At the Duke de Crequy's. I am — what shall I say ? — the companion and 
 the — the provider of amusement for his son." 
 " I shall come and see you, and thank you." 
 
 Gaston went home; first of all he rested; the journey had tired him a little. 
 When he had breakfasted he felt in better heart, and proceeded to his toilet. 
 Gaston was a beau, " uu plumet," as said the people who have ever possessed 
 picturesque expressions to characterise the dandyism of young men. The term 
 was the more exact, since gentlemen continued, as under Louis XIII., to wear 
 exclusively a white plume in their hats. The wardrobe of Gaston de Fleurbaix 
 was abundantly furnished. To-day, being desirous of pleasing, he selected the 
 finest Holland's linen with rows of Genoa point ; English stockings, neat boots, 
 embroidered down to the spurs in massive silver; a doul)let of Andelys cloth, 
 with galous enriched with silk and gold, la Bourfj^oirnc; a wide starched collar; 
 breeches, over which drooped a trimming in the latest fashion, composed of no 
 less than twelve rows of looped riband. His valet curled his moustache up, and 
 brought him, at the last moment, the indispensable accessories to the toilet of a 
 gentleman of quality — that is to say a rapier, with chiselled hilt, a tall cane with 
 a silver head, and a very large watch. Small watches had become ridiculous. 
 Gaston, although somewhat pale, looked well in this costume. But, at the 
 moment of setting forth, he could not decide to renounce his precious little 
 bouquet, and he placed it over his heart. Gaston took his way to the Palace.
 
 " When Gaston de Pleurbaix woke next morning in the poor lodging where Raj^mond Poisson had offered 
 him hospitahty, he felt somewhat bewildered for a moment."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 47 
 
 When he passed iuto the salons, the youug King had not yet appeared, but 
 there were already some thirty persons, divided iuto various groups. Gaston 
 perceived in one of these Mademoiselle de Ram))ouillet, and went to salute her. 
 Julie d'Angenues returned his greeting graciously, and took up the con- 
 versation in which she had been previously engaged. 
 
 " Dear child," she said, " you must have died of fright ! " 
 
 " Of fright, a little. But also of admiration when I saw that courageous 
 gentleman facing my three assailants." 
 
 Gaston looked at her who spoke thus, and his emotion was so keen that he 
 nearly fainted. Providence had realised the most ardent of his wishes ; he had 
 no longer to seek the unknown fair one whom he had saved, the sweet young 
 girl he had seen again in his dream ; she was standing there before him, in all 
 the freshness of her blonde beauty. And she was speaking of him ; she praised 
 his bravery ! It was too much happiness. Meanwhile, the young lady con- 
 tinued to retail her impressions of the previous day. 
 
 " Yes," she said, with animation, " I was amazed. I would never have 
 believed that a man could look so tine, sword in hand. Observe tluit I scarcely 
 saw him — it was dark ; that, to protect me, he placed himself against my chair, 
 and that he presented little but his back to me ; but in the terrilied eyes of his 
 adversaries, I read his pride and his force." 
 
 " But it is quite a romance, my dear child ! " 
 
 "Yes; because there is a hero." 
 
 " And you do not know who this wonderful cavalier is, who so gallantly 
 protects fair ladies ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Would you recognise him ? " 
 
 " I am not very sure ; it was only towards the end of the adventure that I 
 saw his face for a minute's space. He is young, and has a handsome appear- 
 ance. He is certainly a polished gentleman." 
 
 Gaston listened to these words with rapture and confusion. He blushed and 
 paled by turns. Without doubt it woidd have sufficed for him to say one word in 
 order to be recognised ; but this word did not leave his lips. Gaston was modest — 
 that was one reason for holding his tongue ; more than that, he was very deep in love. 
 
 Now, lovers are strange creatures in whose hearts the most delicate subtle- 
 ties flourish. It displeased him now to deserve the attention of tlie young lady 
 solely on account of his armed intervention. It was not her gratitude that he 
 longed for, but, before everything else, her love. He desired to conquer it on 
 other grounds ; there would be time enough later to tell the rest.
 
 <iC 
 
 48 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 "The up.sliot of all this," said Madt'iuoiselle de Eambouillet, "is that Paris 
 is not safe. Your story recalls my own. Three years ago, on the 11th of June, 
 IGol, I also had the honour to be accosted by a footjjad. And the same week, 
 Commander de Houvray, Messieurs Hancour, de Rouville, and Bo/aiiville were 
 the victims of rogues and cut-purses." 
 
 "And last year," added Gaston, "were not three courtiers robl)ed? They 
 were Sanguin, Geulis, and Coeuvres, if I am not mistaken." 
 
 "And Burin," continued Mademoiselle de Rambouillet ; "Burin, Monsieur de 
 Nouveau's clerk, who was carried oft" in the month of January by six men on 
 horseback, and kejjt out of sight until he had paid a ransom." 
 
 " The victims can be counted by hundreds," said Gaston, " To those we 
 have mentioned may be added others more recent : Pallnaii, Brancas — own sister 
 to the Commissioner of the Watch — and finally. Doctor Gueuaud's mule! " 
 
 "This proves, my dear child, that you must not go out at night without a 
 big escort of lackeys." 
 
 The charming girl, to whom this excellent counsel was addressed, was per- 
 plexed. When Gaston had interrupted the conversation, the sound of his voice 
 had struck her vividly. She seemed to recognise in it the voice she had heard 
 the night before, which said to her, " Have no fear." Then she looked at Gaston 
 attentively, and she really believed that she found in his features some resem- 
 blance to the face of her rescuer, of whom she had seen so little. But this 
 examination resulted in no conviction ; on the contrary, her reason told her she 
 must be deceiving herself. If it were he, would he not have made himself 
 known? He would have had a perfectly natural opportunity, because the con- 
 versation turned precisely on the chivalrous act which he had accomplished. It 
 seemed to her also that her defender had not so pale a complexion as Gaston. 
 
 " Ah, well," she thought, " I was deceived." She sighed. It was a pity. 
 
 All at once, the door at the foot of the hall opened. A voice said : 
 
 "The King!" 
 
 The young King entered. He was si beautiful youth in the flower of his 
 sixteen years. His long curls fell gracefully ui)on his shoulders ; he had a 
 jjroud and distinguished profile ; an eagle glance, and everything in his carriage 
 announced the consciousness of his high position. King since the age of five, 
 declared of age at thirteen, he had Ijreathed from his cradle the incense of 
 perpetual honuige ; but up till now he had taken only a relative position in the 
 affairs of the State, which Cardinal Mazarin conducted together with the Queen- 
 mother, Anne of Austria. Both of these encouraged the adolescent sovereign 
 to take part in the pleasures suited to his age. The Cardinal caused dancers
 
 " Poisson supported him as far as the stair-foot.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 51 
 
 and acrobats to come from Italy, autl poets aud musicians to amuse liim, and 
 in default of the more serious glory he was to acquire later by means of his 
 politics and his arms, Louis XIV. made it his ambition to have a court both 
 gorgeous and merry. From the age of fourteen he became devoted to Italian 
 ballets, with their marvellous scenery, their piquant narratives, their parade 
 of luxury. He took pleasure in dancing personally in them, and generally 
 the role of the Sun was reserved for him. His brother, " Monsieur," represented 
 Love, and it was eagerly discussed who, among the courtiers and ladies of 
 quality, should obtain the smallest part in these ballets of the King. Up till 
 now, the usual poet of these spectacles had been the Sieur Bonty, from 
 Rome ; but his glory was beginning to fade, and to-day the royal favour 
 imposed Benserade upon him as collaborator, one of those men who have best 
 known how to swing the censer of poetry. The King traversed the whole 
 length of the salon, receiving as he went the deep curtsies of the women, 
 the low bows of the men ; then, after having satisfied these demands of etiquette, 
 he addressed himself to Monsieur de Villequier : 
 
 " Bonty has surpassed himself this time, and we are going to do wonders. 
 The Poem which he has just read is a complete enchantment. Torelli, on 
 the other hand, has shown us schemes of decoration which excel in beauty 
 anything we have ever seen. Benserade promises precious verses. Lengle 
 has just counted the costumes — there will be two hundred and thirty-three." 
 There was a murmur of admiration among the listeners. The King 
 continued : 
 
 "The title of the ballet is, 'The Nuptials of Thetis and Peleus.' After 
 the prologue, which is charming, there is a superb act! The scene represents 
 Parnassus with the nine Muses, and the Arts; naiads, gods. Peace, War, the 
 
 Air, the Sea, the Inferno, a dozen Loves but what are you thinking of, 
 
 Villequier ? You appear to be waiting for something. Is all that not 
 enougli ? " 
 
 "Your Majesty has guessed my surprise. Among all the divinities your 
 Majesty has mentioned, the principal is missing. Shall we not see the nll- 
 powerful Apollo ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," rejoined the King, with a smile ; " it is, in fact, Ourself who 
 will represent the God of Light." 
 " The fete will be complete ! " 
 
 " The prologue is delicious ; have I described it to you ? At the ])e- 
 ginning there will be — as at the last Jaco])in concert — the sweet music of 
 violins, viols, lutes, contrabasses, harps, tabors, flutes, claWcordes, and hautbois,
 
 52 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 wbere Cantel and La Guerre will distinguish themselves. The theatre will 
 be still shrouded in shadow ; then the first streaks of dawu will appear- 
 Thereupon, from the zenith of heaven, the young Aurora will descend in 
 a chariot drawn by doves, dazzling in her grace and beauty. To whom 
 shall we confide this employment? Do you not think it would suit Made- 
 moiselle de Vallombrosa ? " 
 
 The young girl reddened with delight. 
 
 " Tour Majesty overwhelms me," she said, curtseying. 
 
 " You are named Aurora, and yon have her charm," said the King. " It 
 is an obvious choice. Well, the youthful Aurora will come down to Earth to 
 announce the triumphant return of the Sun. A young shepherd will accost 
 Aurora, and will tell her with what impatience Apollo is awaited by the Earth 
 and by men. He will paint for her the love of all peoples for the God of 
 Light and his inestimable benefits ; and he will show his own tenderness for 
 Aurora, whom he is happy to be the first to salute. Who shall be our 
 shepherd ? Saint Agnou ? No ; we have reserved sonu'thiug else for him. I 
 require, to begin witli, that he should be young and handsome, worthy of our 
 charming Aurora. Monsieui*, recall your name to TJs." 
 
 " Gaston dc Fleurbaix." 
 
 "Yon were presented by our excellent friend, Madame de Beauvais ? " 
 
 " Your Majesty is good enough to remember." 
 
 " You will make a perfect shepherd." 
 
 " Your Majesty has exceeded my best hopes." 
 
 " There, that is arranged ! Monsieur de Benserade, can you set about 
 the work, and begin the libretto ? " 
 
 " My task is rendered peculiarly easy by the happy selections of Your 
 Majesty." 
 
 " You, my good Bonty, collect the persons of the prologue, and furnish 
 them with the indications necessary for the study of their roles, while I go 
 and select my Muses and my Arts for the scene in Parnassus." 
 
 "I obey the commands of Your Sublime Majesty," replied Bonty, with 
 his thick Italian accent. 
 
 Aurora and Gaston bowed before the King, and followed the author of 
 " Thetis and Peleus " to another salon. 
 
 Gaston's heart overflowed with joy. Was it not truly a providential 
 chance which brought him so close to her whom he loved? Indeed, in this 
 romance of love, whose first page he had written the previous evening with 
 his sword, all that happened savoured of the miraculous. His good luck
 
 './■,./■ .;.//v 
 
 "^^. 
 
 " Gaston perceived Mile, de Eambouillet, and went to salute her." 
 
 d
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 55 
 
 dazzled bim ; everythiug fell out to the satisfaction of his desires. Even the 
 King had shown him a mark of favour which had excited many jealousies ; 
 but, in this favour, that which charmed Gaston more than all, was that it 
 would necessitate frequent interviews with Mademoiselle de Vallombrosa for 
 the study of their parts. To see her, and yet again to see her, was this 
 not the most ardent of his hopes ? 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he to Aurora, " permit me to congratulate myself 
 on the great honour the King has done me in entrusting me with this part, 
 and let me hope that you will look with no unkindly eye upon the poor 
 shepherd destined to receive on earth the visit of the most amiable of the 
 goddesses." 
 
 " Monsieur," replied the young girl, " I am quite bewildered by the choice 
 that His Majesty has made of me for so important a part, and I tremble 
 lest I prove unequal to my task." 
 
 " But, Mademoiselle, nothing could be more easy to you ; you will have 
 only to remain yourself to win all suffrages, and charm both hearts and 
 eyes." 
 
 " Monsieur, I count upon you to sustain me." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I am wholly at your service." 
 
 " We are losing time, and time is a precious commodity," said Bonty. 
 " Mademoiselle, she arrives in a car, from the heights of heaven. Imagine 
 that this sofa is the car. Bene. Mademoiselle explains, waving her arms, that 
 the Sun is about to burst forth. You, the peasant, you place your hands upon 
 your heart and you express a lively love — vivaee amore. Bene, bene. You 
 prolong this scene till the moment when the music becomes gay ; then, the 
 dolce Aurora descends from her car and leaps to the ground — leg^iero, leaning 
 upon the shoulder of the shepherd. Then there will be a pas de deiw. But 
 first, try to jump leggiero, Mademoiselle. You, the shepherd, advance your 
 shoulder. Bene. Now, jump, Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 Aurora laughed as she listened to Bonty's jargon. At his last invitation, 
 she leapt gracefully to the ground leaning with one hand, as she had been 
 instructed to do, upon the shoulder of the shepherd. Light as was the contact 
 of this little hand, sweet to the young man's heart as it was, it nevertheless 
 was the cause of an unexpected incident. Aurora's hand had been placed on 
 the still open wound, and had bruised it so painfully that Gaston, already 
 much enfeebled by the blood he had lost, turned pale, and suddenly swooned. 
 A seat was fortunately behind him, and he fell into it. 
 
 " Heavens ! " cried Aurora, springing towards him.
 
 56 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 "It is uoihiuj?, it is nothiug," said Bouty. " A want of air. Sangue di me! 
 1 have uot my smelling bottle." 
 " Nor I ! " cried Aurora. 
 " I will loose his clothes a little." 
 
 The Italian unhooked the cape and opened the young man's doublet. 
 " I will fly for some vinegar." 
 
 N\ 
 
 1^ ' ;■) i 
 
 ^:-^?f^^^^ 
 
 Go, go quickly, Monsieur, I beg of you ! ' 
 
 " Go, go quickly, Monsieur, I beg of you ! " 
 
 Aurora remained alone with Gaston. In looking at him, the remembrance 
 of her rescuer the previous night came suddenly upon her. Was it not thus 
 that she had seen him at the last moment, very handsome and very pale? 
 All at once, she noticed a stream of blood which coloured his Genoa lace 
 jabot. It could only come from a wound. Where was this wound? She
 
 \ / 
 
 "1 / 
 
 ii» 
 
 
 
 
 
 '^'lY 
 
 
 
 
 
 c:;^<^y// 
 
 %y^ 
 
 \>- 
 
 i ft 
 
 ■ The King traversed the whole length of the salon, receiving as he went the deep curtsies of the 
 
 women, the low bows of the men."
 
 THE TAVERN OE THE THREE VIRTUES. 59 
 
 took hold of the doiibh-t dillideiitly, and pulled it lightly aside, disclosiug a 
 bouquet, scarcely faded, which ^he recoguised without difficulty. It was the 
 cue she had given last night to the courageous gentleman who had come so 
 nobly to her assistance. But then, this wound which had Just re-opened, it 
 was for her that he had received it 1 Witluitit hesitation, she l)ravely disclosed 
 the place, and pressed upon it her dainty lace handkerchief. 
 
 Meantime, Gaston came to himself. On ojn'uing his eyes he saw the 
 sweet face of Aurora close to his own, and at once the blush of happiness 
 returned to his cheeks. 
 
 " How good you are ! " he murmured. 
 
 "So it was indeed you," said Aurora, "who saved me, who allowed your- 
 self to })e wounded in my defence ! And you did not confess it. I, who am 
 so happy to thank you ! Why this silence ? Why ? " 
 
 " Because — because — I love you I " 
 
 " Is that any reason ? " 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle, your kindness encourages me. I have said too nnuh 
 now not to go on. My dearest hope is to win your hand some day." 
 
 " Alas I " she exclaimed, sadly. 
 
 "You alarm nu'. Have I dreamed of (he impossible? Is your heart so 
 cold that it may never be touched? Do you feel an aversion from me?" 
 
 " No ; — quite the contrary." 
 
 " Then bid ine hope ! " 
 
 " Alas, Monsieur," said Aurora, with an accent of sincere regret, " the 
 obstacle which separates us does not depend upon me. I am betrothed." 
 
 Gaston closed his eyes, and again a jjallor bespread his face, and his 
 features grew rigid. 
 
 " Good heavens ! What is to be done ? " said Aurora, in despair. " He 
 must really love nu', poor fellow. I feel that I could have loved him deeply 
 also ! " 
 
 " Here is the leech," said Bonty, returning.
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS.
 
 
 
 "The Pont-Neuf with its world of mountebanks, singers, and idlers." 
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 ON the day fixed by Lorenza, the Duke de Maufert was so impatient 
 to see hei" again, that from six o'elock he was at his post on the 
 Pont Nenf. If it be wrong for a lover to arrive too late, it is 
 crnel for him to arrive too soon. Henri found it out by 
 experience. During the first quarter of an hour he wiled 
 away the time amidst the ever-animated scene upon the bridge, with its world 
 of mountebanks, singers, and idlers ; then he drew near the parapet, and 
 watched the water flowing past. But neither of these distractions was of a 
 nature to occupy him long, nor to divert his mind from the single thought 
 which absorbed it, and presently he began to find the time very long. When 
 a man finds himself in this state of mind, it is seldom that his imagination 
 does not take to itself wings. Maufert's was a rover of rovers. It led him 
 presently into a labyrinth of disquieting questions. " What was Lorenza doing ? 
 Why was she not there ? She showed very little anxiety to keep the appoint- 
 ment she had made. But perhaj)s some unforeseen obstacle had interfered wilh 
 her i)lans. What obstacle ? Iler husband, i)erhaps ! Her husband, that 
 hateful and hated being!" And merely at the thought of this man, Maufert's 
 hand closed upon the hilt of his sword. 
 
 63
 
 64 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " But no. The obstacit' iiiiist be diftVreiit. Had Loreuza beeu siucere 
 when she promised to eonie ? Was she not merely emph)ying a coquette's art 
 to rid herself of an importunate person ? " 
 
 Maufei't could not have the pretension to suppose himself already loved by 
 this woman. In reviewing the incidents of the evening he had passed with 
 her, he was forced to recognise that his personal share in the shady afPairs of 
 the Italian lady was not ])recisely fitted to gain her good graces. At the 
 same time, she had smiled upon him ; she had yielded her hand to his kisses ; 
 she had permitted him to see her again. What was he to Ijclieve ? And it 
 seemed to the Duke, so vast was the area already traversed by his excited 
 thoughts, that he had been there for an eternity, when the clock of the 
 Samaritaine began to strike half-past. six. Only half-past six ! Things were 
 not yet hopeless. She would still come. When ? At seven, perhaps ; or at 
 eight, or even later. But she would certainly come. 
 
 Maufert found a thousand good reasons to convince himself that Lorenza 
 would not break her word ; then — for the thoughts of lovers have their ebb 
 and flow — he found twice as many others to persuade himself that she was a 
 traitress who was making game of him. 
 
 He floated thus between hope and doubt, till the moment when Loreuza 
 and her duenna finally appeared. 
 
 " You see," said she to him, " I am faithful to my promise." 
 
 " You are the most adorable of women." 
 
 " You begin already with your flatteries ! Take care ; you will make me 
 regret having come." 
 
 " And how do you desire me to silence my heart ? What am I to speak 
 to you about ? I know only one tiling — that I love you." 
 
 Oh, how short is the hour of our love-making ! When Lorenza left 
 Maufert to return to her hotel, it seemed to the young Duke that it had 
 passed like a flash of hghtning. Scarcely had he had time to tell her that he 
 was hers through all eternity, when already his adored one was gone ; but, once 
 again he had had her hand to kiss, and he had obtained from her the promise 
 of another interview. A rendezvous at the beginning of a love-affair is at 
 once terrible and delightful. The agony of waiting is succeeded by the 
 happiness of seeing, and this happiness is too soon broken by the agony of 
 ffirewell. These joys, this anguish — Maufert experienced them with Lorenza. 
 Regularly, the Italian lady came at the appointed time and departed at the 
 hour she had fixed. The Duke was forbidden to foUow her, on the pain of 
 losing her for ever. It was not yet time, she said, for him to learn her name.
 
 " From six o'clock ho was at his post on the Pont-Neuf.' 
 
 lO
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 67 
 
 For the rest, during the brief luomeuts she accorded to him — sometimes ou the 
 Pout Neuf, sometimes ou the Cours-hi-Reiue — she showed herself amiable, ou 
 the coiulitiou that Maufert coufiued himself to the limits of strict etiquette. 
 The Duke su])mitted, impatieutly, to the yoke. Wheu he was away from her, 
 Loreuza's coldness revolted him and he swore to lower her pride, aud, iu his 
 turn, be master of his mistress. He had bought a little house ou the bank 
 of the Seine, uear to Pre-aux-Clercs, isolated and charming, where he pro- 
 
 He drew near the parapet." 
 
 posed to take her, with or against her will. But all his masterful resolu- 
 tions fell before one proud look of his beloved. All lliat he could summon 
 courage to do, after the first occasion on which he had mentioned the nest 
 he had prepared for their love, was to ask her, at the eud of one of their 
 interviews, if she would ever consent to accompany him there. 
 
 Lorenza never replied to this (piestion. 
 
 Two months passed thus, and Maufert was unable to tell himself that he
 
 68 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 had advauced since the first day. It seeinod to him even that she had been 
 cohk-r and more reserved than during their earlier interviews, and Henri 
 bewailed his lot. He was wrong, and he knew little of the lady's heart. 
 
 In reality, in contact with this young and ardent love, Lorenza felt her 
 own heart warming little by little. In that sombre soul a light began to glow. 
 Before her who had known nothing but hate, gleamed the horizon of human 
 felicity. Instead of incessantly dreaming of her vengeance, she found her- 
 self now, even at the feet of her bleeding Christ, even in the presence of 
 her dear martyrs, dreaming of the joy of love. And she was shocked at 
 herself, shocked at what she considered to be treason and cowardice. 
 
 "I have no right Ut love. I have not accomplished the task that has been 
 imposed upon me in the world. " 
 
 Nevertheless, she had made a great step ; for she told herself now that 
 her task once accomplished, she would yield herself entirely to this love which 
 offered itself to her. But not before. 
 
 The more responsive she felt herself to passion, the nM)re did she seek to 
 mislead Henri, to mislead herself, about the condition of her heart. An 
 incident soon occurred which revealed her weakness to her. And the cause of 
 this incident was Monsieur de Eoquesaute. 
 
 Loreuza's husband was a dreadful man. By his habits and his passions 
 he belonged to a different age. His race, a warlike and a cruel one, had 
 remained feudal; it had not followed the gallant and delicate movement 
 that Francois I. had initiated in France, and it had looked upon the 
 Renaissance as a proof of the moral decadence of royalty. When the lover 
 of Diane razed the thirteen towers of the Lupara and replaced the she-wolf of 
 Paris by the splendid facade of the Louvre, the Roquesantes repaired their 
 battlements and strengthened their citadel. The Court had been brought up 
 to these principles, and Brillac had depicted his character and his aspect 
 correctly in saying, " He is a wild boar." He had tli(> rough manners, the 
 ugliness and the brutality of a wild ))oar. His harsh, ))ristling beard, sticking 
 out in front, his scarred face, ihe reputation fen- ferocity that he had gained in 
 the wars, his indomitable will — all contributed to make him the least agreeable 
 gentleman in France. Till the time of his marriage, Roquesante had never 
 encountered the least resistance without breaking it down ; but Love, in 
 seizing upon this wild beast, had flung him panting at Loreuza's feet, for 
 their common martyrdom. The Italian had dreamed of civilising this 
 bear, of entering the great world with him, of going to Court, and carrying 
 on, with the Valloud>rosas, a refined war, feline and implacable, to which
 
 \m, ' 
 
 \m^ wt^i 
 
 With the first blow of his shoulder Roquesante forced the panels.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 71 
 
 the subtlety of her uature predisposed her of all womeu. Deceived iii her 
 hopes, she aven;?t'il herself, iu her turu, by reducing her tyrant to despair. 
 Her delight was to see him mad with love, drunk with desire, imploring of her 
 the favours she did not grant him. With Machiavellian instinct and clever 
 coquetry, she stirred the devouring fire in her husband's heart, to which, when 
 the Count became too ardent, she opposed au icy coldness. To repel him, she 
 used words that stung like the lashes of a whip. This roused in him the fury 
 of a bull, and twenty times he had been on the point of crushing with his 
 formidable hand the woman who played with him ; but in this conflict between 
 matter and spirit, spirit had till now always triumphed. 
 
 One evening, on returning from one of those interviews at which Henri de 
 Maufert showed himself so deeply tender, Lorenza had retired, as was her 
 habit, to the room in which were hung the poi'traits of the benefactors of her 
 family. There was an understanding between her husband and herself — and 
 the Count, in a losing moment, had sworn upon his honour never to disregard 
 this prohibition — there was an understanding that the Count de Roquesante 
 should never seek to penetrate to this retreat. 
 
 This evening, more tormented than usual by his passion, with excited brain 
 and tumultuous heart, he came and knocked at the forbidden door. 
 
 " Madame ! open the door, I beg you I " 
 
 Lorenza sat up on hearing this abrupt voice, which presaged a fresh 
 domestic storm, but she did not think it necessary to respond to the Count's 
 prayer. 
 
 " Madame, for the second time, I beg you to let me in ! " 
 
 Lorenza was mute. 
 
 " For the third time, Madame ! "' cried the Count, with fury. 
 
 The same silence. 
 
 Exasperated beyond endurance, Roquesante precipitated himself against the 
 door like a madman. With the first blow of his shoulder he forced the panels, 
 and burst, with eyes inflamed and face scarlet with the effort he had made, 
 into the presence of Lorenza. 
 
 Marvellously calm and haughty, she regarded the infatuated man with an 
 air of sovereign pity. 
 
 " A fine exploit to add to those of which you are already so proud ! " she 
 said. " I see that you hold your honour as a gentleman very cheaj), when a 
 closed door stops you as little as a solemn promise." 
 
 He interrupted her. 
 
 " I have decided to listen to you no longer, Madanu'. You have the art
 
 72 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 of ])laciiig things in a light which distoi'ts my rights and your duties. This 
 game has lasted long enough — I intend that it shall cease. After all, yon are 
 my wife, and I love you." 
 
 " Indeed," said she, with indifPereuce. 
 
 " I have been too indulgent with you. Now I no longer supplicate, I 
 exact." 
 
 " What atrocious manners you have, my friend ! You have associated 
 apparently only with kitchen weiu-hes." 
 
 Monsieur de Rocpiesante turned pale; he hesitated for a moment between 
 his love and his rage ; then, extending his arms, he clasped Lorenza and kissed 
 her feverishly. 
 
 She did not attempt to defend herself or offer a resistance which would 
 have been useless ; she contented herself by remaining entirely insensible to 
 this ardent demonstration of an excited love. She was no longer a woman, 
 she was a passive statue. It seemed to the Count that he was holding a 
 corpse in his arms. 
 
 "Lorenza," he murnmred, "will you never love me?" 
 
 She made no response. 
 
 " Lorenza," he began again, in a voice which he had forced to be caressing. 
 
 As she still said nothing, the Count loosed her as l)rusquely as he had 
 seized her, and stamped his foot in anger. 
 
 " I like you better like that," said she ; " you are yourself again. Take 
 my advice and remain violent ; gallantry does not sit well on yon. Such a man 
 as you is made to force Bastilles, and not the doors of ladies' chambers." 
 
 The Count looked at her; she seemed to him more beautiful than ever, 
 with her queenly dignity, her statuesque figure, and her tenacious pride. He 
 felt himself ready for anything in order to possess her. A few moments 
 before, he had contemplated crime ; now he told himself he would buy his love 
 even at the price of an outrage : and suddenly, as will happen after these great 
 mental strains, he humbled himself. 
 
 " Forgive me," he said. 
 
 " Forgive you ? For what ? Your old brutalities, or that of to-day ? " 
 
 Then he threw himself at her feet, and man of iron though he was, cried 
 like a child. The Italian woman let him cry ; moreover, the spectacle of this 
 abasement was not of a kind to displease her. When she had had enough 
 of her cruel jest, she dismissed him. 
 
 "Tell me that you will love me some day," he implored as he went. 
 
 "When I have punished you," replied she.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 73 
 
 The Count went out, and Lorenza could not help oomiiaring the love of 
 this man with that of the Duke. The comparison was highly favourable to the 
 latter. 
 
 While Eoquesante sought her through splintered doors and with threats, 
 how delicately Maufert implored her love ! On leaving her that evening, Henri, 
 alluding to his little house at Pre-aux-Clercs, not far from the barracks of the 
 grey musketeers, had said to her in a tender voice, "If you would make my 
 whole life happy, come ! " 
 
 Lorenza was a woman of sudden resolutions. She took a piece of paper 
 and wrote these three words, " I will come." 
 
 
 ' Then he threw himself at her feet." 
 
 II
 
 POISSON REQUIRES A COAT.
 
 'Here is the author,' said Riban." 
 
 VI. 
 
 rOISSON BEQUIRES A COAT. 
 
 IN the meantime a pieee of good fortune had come to Raymond Poissou. 
 Up to now, Poisson's hfe had been a matter of chance. 
 His father, a distinguished mathematician, had dreamed of the cahu 
 and happy existence of a savant for him, and had early turned his 
 thoughts to medical study. Accordingly he had become a surgeon, 
 hardly knowing how or why. Although in his capacity as a surgeon, and 
 aided by his lively humour, he had succeeded in attaching himself to the family 
 of Duke Charles de Crequi, and more particularly to the person of the Duke's 
 son, Francois de Crequi, future Marshal of France, he could not bring himself 
 to believe that he was destined to pass his life handling a lancet. Raymoiul 
 Poisson, merry companion and pleasant gentleman, had other aspirations. 
 He felt himself forcibly attracted to the boards, and would like to have devoted 
 himself entirely to the theatre, as author and comedian. The wish of his 
 father alone prevented him from casting every consideration to the winds to 
 don the mask of comedy.
 
 78 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 Once already he had disobeyed the paieutal orders. It was ou a journey 
 which he had made iu the company of the youug Francois de Crequi, and two 
 scamps who were called La Plaute and Briaille. At Orleans, in the tavern of 
 the Three Moors, they happened to ftiU in with a troop of wandering players ; 
 Poissou could not resist the desire to join them, only he dared not perform 
 under his own name. M. de Crequi fell in with his humour. 
 
 " You wish to be a comedian ? " he said to Poissou. " Very good ; I con- 
 sent ; and as you are looking for a name, I will be your godfather." 
 
 Raymond Poisson was therefore christened Belle-Roche, at the hotel of the 
 Three Moors, with the help of a bottle of Spanish wine. He received besides 
 from his godfather a handsome present — twelve gold crowns. His purse lined, 
 his heart bounding, Poisson began with the strolling company one of those 
 miserable Odysseys which Scarron has so well described to us. This campaign 
 brought him more ai)plause than crowns. It finished badly ; at Toulouse the 
 leading lady, the indispensable star, disappeared one fine day, or, to speak more 
 clearly, one fine evening, carried off by a gallant signor. Raymond, however, 
 preserved one souvenir of this expedition, the costume of a Spanish miguelette 
 which he wore ou the evening of his meeting with Gaston de Fleurbaix, and 
 which became the legendary costume of Crispin. On returning to Paris, 
 Raymond heard of the death of his father. Completely destitute of resources, 
 he returned to the Hotel de Crequi to secure at least board and lodging, but he 
 did not conceal from the Duke that his love for the stage was more keen than 
 ever, and that he should seize the first opportunity of returning to it. Between 
 whiles, he had composed a little comedy in one act, "•Lubiu; or the Fool 
 Avenged," in octosyllabic verse, and he had dedicated it to M. de Crequi, as 
 was only proper. He was already, it might be seen, a sort of author ; one day 
 he had nearly sold a copy of his work, published by the good Riban, beneath 
 the pillars of the palace. 
 
 "Walk up," cried Riban, when Raymond appeared there, "walk up and 
 buy the comedy of M. Poisson." A poor wretch approached, and bargained 
 for the work, which he wished to obtain for fifteen sous. 
 
 "Fifteen sous!" said Riban; "here is the author, who will tell you that 
 the work costs me sixteen to print ! " 
 
 At these words the buyer turned to Poisson, and complimented him on his 
 spirit and his talent, so much and so well, that the delighted author could not 
 do less than delicately offer him as a gift the comedy so highly appreciated. In 
 his thanks the amateur hinted that he accepted the present to a certain extent 
 as a colleague, and also iu hope of one day doing as much for a man so eminent.
 
 ' The buyer turned to Poisson and complimented him.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 8i 
 
 " May I kuow with whom I have the honour of speaking ? " asked Poissou, 
 with curiosity. 
 
 "I aui, Monsieur, the composer of the epitaphs at the cemetery of the 
 luuoceuts."' 
 
 But apart from this, his comedy assisted the accomplishment of his aims. 
 It was to it he owed the good news which made him so happy at the moment 
 when this chapter begins. 
 
 Raymond Poisson had just been engaged at the Hotel de Bourgogne. 
 Moreover, he was entrusted with a good part in a comedy, an audacious 
 thing of Quinault's, who was introducing the character of an absurd Marquis 
 for the first time. Still, amid all his joy, a slight detail was chafing the new 
 comedian. The part which had ])een assigned to him, this splendid part, 
 demanded a court costume, elegant and rich ; now it will be remembered that 
 Poisson's wardrobe had been reduced to its simplest terms. 
 
 " Here," said Poissou to himself, " we have a little problem to solve. 
 Let us think." 
 
 But Poisson did not enjoy thinking with a dry gullet. He looked about 
 for a tavern, where one had leave to dream at leisure. Just off the Rue 
 Dauphiue, down which he was strolling at this moment, a little lane opened 
 and, at the entrance of this lane, there hung at the end of an iron bracket 
 a sign: "The Tavern of the Three Virtues." 
 
 " Aha, aha ! " said our man to himself. " This sounds orthodox indeed ; 
 there should be good Christian wine here." 
 
 He hesitated; but, looking at the house-front, he saw three painted panels 
 on the facade which modified his impression. The first represented a gay 
 cavalier holding a Venus — in mythological costume — upon his knee. The 
 second showed the same cavalier at hand-grips with ten assailants and 
 keeping them well in check. Finally, in the third, the hero of the sign, 
 after having piled up beside liiiii a score empty (piart-pots, was attacking 
 the hogshead Itself and engulfing i\ny contents in his bottomless gullet. 
 
 " If I am not mistaken, this represents wenching, roystering, and drinking, 
 three scarcely theological virtues. This explanation reassures me a little. 
 Here goes. ' 
 
 Poissou stepped into the tavern, and perceived with pleasure that it had 
 few occupants. The room was large and the customers were scattered. He 
 found a corner near the bay window, installed himself, and called for a bottle 
 of Arbois. The wine of Arbois, as is well known, clears the head. 
 
 " Now," said Raymond to himself, " is the time to reason ; let us there- 
 
 12
 
 82 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 fore reason. To whom does cue cominouly address himself when he wants 
 a handsome coat ? Everybody addresses himself to the tailor. So far so good. 
 And then there is the bill, the annoying bill. But tailors are not alone in 
 possessing line clothes. Besides those who make them, there are those who 
 wear them — and never sell them. Monsieur de Crequi has tine clothes. Let 
 me therefore ask a coat of Monsieur de Crequi. With a gentleman, however, 
 one requires a little nu)re ceremony thau with a costumier. To a costumier 
 one sends an order ; to a duke one sends — well, one sends a well-turned 
 letter, a letter in verse. Apollo, come to my aid ! Thou shouldst clothe thy 
 faithful, and amongst them Poisson, who pours a libation in thy honour." 
 And with that Raymond emptied his glass to the glory of the god. 
 
 When he had asked for, and been accommodated with, an ink-bottle and 
 a sheet of paper, the poet set to work. In his best hand he indited first of 
 all the superscription : 
 
 To Monseigncnr the DuKE DE CuEQUi, Prince t/c Poia, I'm- of France, Clieenlier 
 of the Order of the Khi<^, First Gentleman of the Chamber, Governor of 
 Paris, 8fc., &)'c., Sfc. Raymond Poisson, Comedian of the Hotel de 
 Bonrii'o^'ne. 
 
 " In that way the Duke will learn of my good fortune ; Avliat follows 
 will apprise him of my ill fortune. Now comes the pull ! To it, Ihen, 
 my son. A good poem begins with an exposition, let me then explain the 
 situation." 
 
 He spread his ell)ows on the table, hunted for his first rhymes, discovered 
 them in his glass, and dashed them on the paper : 
 
 " ' Thk Careless Lovek,' by QuinauU, 
 Will, in a few days, be tlie rage ; 
 I play a Marquis, and engage 
 To make your vicrry laughter floiv. 
 lie is a mini of conseqiience. 
 Obliged to live at great expense 
 For to uphold his quality. 
 And if his habits he'll not stop, 
 lie comes, from sheer necessity. 
 To dressing at the Old Clothes Sliop." 
 
 While Poisson was absorbed in his composition, three customers came into 
 the tavern, and sat down at the table next his own. The rhymester was
 
 4 k 
 
 
 
 V.^- 
 
 .^l 
 
 
 Poisson joined the players.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 85 
 
 scarcely couscious of them. However, wbeu he had fiuishecl his exposition, 
 which he thought felicitous enough, he raised his head, and could hardly forl)ear 
 an expression of astonishment on seeing what singular beings were his neigh- 
 bours. From what haunt of vagabonds had these scoundrels come ? Truly, all 
 three had the faces of birds of prey, the biggest particidarly, with his eagle 
 uose, his black eyes, his outlandish, amazing rapier. The second had the face 
 of a good-natured rogue, rather fat, with his two small eyes sunk in the flesh, 
 but piercing and false. As for the third, he was a handsome brute — a wicked 
 brute. All three, besides, had mantles — much torn, hats, whose feathers no 
 longer curled, and swords. 
 
 "They entertain very bad company in this house," thought Poissou. "But 
 I must not allow the contemplation of these rascals to turn me from my 
 work. Now for a sympathetic eulogy. This is the diflicult moment. Let me 
 try the flowing bowl ! " 
 
 And as the first draught produced no effect, he had a second. 
 
 " I have it, my eulogy ! 
 
 " You of all Dukes the gorgeous 'peer 
 And the most generous, I stvear ! 
 
 " I am pleased with the second verse. It is a preparatory verse ; but how 
 to continue ? Those fellows are really insufPerable." 
 
 In point of fact, Poisson's neighbours had begun to discuss noisily their 
 own little affairs. The big one had a Gascon accent, and appeared to com- 
 mand the others. He paid no attention to the poor devil of a poet who sat 
 drinking beside him and stringing doggerel couplets together. His great 
 sounding voice fell on Poisson's ears and irritated his nerves, already over- 
 strung as these were with the necessity of composing a eulogy. Raymond was 
 not born for this kind of literature. Satire — yes ; i)raise — no. The rhyme 
 became rebelhous. The verse would not flow ; and, to complete the misfortune, 
 the bottle was empty. Therefore he had recourse to the final expedient — he 
 looked for his rhymes on the ceiling. 
 
 " Peer ! A good rhyme for peer ? Queer ? Seer ? Eh, eh — leer ? There's 
 an elusive adjective for you ! It deserves a good thrashing. Gad ! it's difficult 
 to write a panegyric here ! Hullo ! ' Panegyric here.' There's my rhyme ! 
 
 " You of all Dukes tJie gorgeous peer 
 And tJie most generous, I swear ! 
 Ah, let mc strive to pen with care 
 Your noble panegyric here.
 
 86 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " Yes, let me strive — but I don't suceeed ! All the same, 1 tbiuk I have 
 
 the eiid : 
 
 " Your honoured sires I will not name, 
 Though laurel-crowned with history's fame. 
 In you my dreams arc satisfied." 
 
 Poissoii lahoui'ed at his task. Affain he lifted his eyes to th(> smoky 
 rafters. " Rich rhymes do not live liei'e," thou<ifht he. He began to muse, 
 distracted from his work, his nose in the air, his ear alert. 
 
 At his side boomed the voiee of the big scoundrel : " Look here, my fine 
 fellows, when next I employ you, do not behave as you did before, when you 
 were beaten all round. How can people spoil good work like that?" 
 
 " Thou, Poehelu, wast badly beaten ! And thou, Marmissolle, one of the 
 best blades in France, reeeivedst a sword-stroke as weakly as a schoolboy. 
 Kicks — and no halfpence ! A bad business." 
 
 " What, you are beginning again ? " said Marmissolle, in a vexed tone. 
 " Look here, I am sick of your grumbles. I was wounded, 'tis true ; but 
 the same might have befallen you had you not run away." 
 
 " Thunder ! You dare to say " 
 
 " Yes, Caldegas," added Poehelu, " yes, you abandoned us. But for 
 that " 
 
 CahK^gas brought his fist down upon the table and swore horribly again. 
 
 " Curs ! " cried he. " Is it thus that you recognise my care for you ? I 
 ought to disband you, if I were not so fond of you ; I prefer to give you an 
 exj)lanation. I did not run away. No ! The saints and angels know that I 
 should not be capable of it : I retired in disgust at your lack of skill. Three 
 men to carry off one woman ! And not to succeed ! It was enough to com- 
 promise my reputation, I should say ! " 
 
 " Well, well ! " thought Poisson. " Are these the rogues to whom we gave 
 that lesson on the Pont Neuf ? " 
 
 " But there ! " continued Caldegas, " I am a good fellow, and I'll not bear 
 malice ; — because I hope you will retrieve yourselves this very evening." 
 
 " This evening ? " cried Poehelu. 
 
 " This evening, you will have an opportunity to distinguish yourselves and 
 to conclude neatly the affair that you failed over. Listen ! " 
 
 The conversation became more and more interesting to Poisson, but 
 perhaps Caldegas had observed the attention that he was paying it, because 
 the big Southerner leaned over towards his companions and began to si)eak to 
 them in a low voice.
 
 <^~ 
 
 
 
 >Sh , 
 
 L' /v^ii 
 
 Poisson saw the three painted panels of the tavern.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 89 
 
 Raymoutl perceived that he must dissemble ; he bent over his paper, and 
 beside the last verse which he had written he jotted down a second, at hazard. 
 That made two lines without a rhyme — 
 
 " In you my dreams are satisfied, 
 Your actions have my conscience-vole." 
 
 While slowly writing, he listened with all his ears. It was lucky that he 
 followed this device, because Caldegas, evidently reassured by this by-play, raised 
 his voice a little. All the same, Poisson could only catch scraps of the con- 
 versation. He noted in his mind two suggestions which appeared to him of 
 importance. Caldegas had spoken of the " Jacobin's Welcome," and to a ques- 
 tion of MarmissoUe's he had answered, "The Limours Road." Poisson knew 
 enough now ; and if, as he supposed, the ambush the rascals were plotting had 
 Mademoiselle de Vallombrosa for its object, it was wiser not to delay longer 
 before warning Gaston. He therefore prepared to go. But it was really a pity 
 to leave his poem unfinished. He dropped his eyes in contemplation of these 
 two lines which still waited for their complementary rhymes. 
 
 " Bah ! " said he, " when one is in a hurry, one goes straight to the point." 
 And he finished oft' his quatrain in this fashion : 
 
 " hi you my dreajns are satisfied, 
 Your actions earn my conscience-vote ; 
 'Faith, I don't know, although I've tried, 
 How I'm to ask you for a, coat." 
 
 He might have polished away for five years and not found anything better 
 than this sudden inspiration. Satisfied with his composition, Poisson hurried to 
 Gaston de Fleurbaix's. Night had already fallen when he presented himself, 
 and learned that Gaston was out, but had left word he would not be late in 
 returning. 
 
 Poisson waited for him; he would have been glad to give his young friend 
 a fresh opportunity of demonstrating his love and his devotion for the beautiful 
 Aurora. Who could say that a second intervention on the part of Gaston might 
 not modify the ideas of the Vallombrosa family, and perhaps facilitate the 
 marriage to which, in spite of all obstacles, he aspired ? 
 
 But time went by, and Gaston did not arrive. Poisson still waited. But 
 it was becoming imprudent to wait much longer, and when a quarter past eight 
 struck he started for the Hotel de Vallombrosa, to warn the Marquis of the 
 danger which threatened his daughter. As he passed along the dark street, 
 
 13
 
 90 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 which was bounded by the garden walls of the Hotel de Noailles and the Hotel 
 de Vallombrosa, Poissou tripped over the fat body of some person lying across 
 the footway. Believing it to be that of some drunken fellow, he stepped over 
 it ; but the sound of an entreating voice arrested hiui : 
 
 " Whoever you may be," said the voice, " run to the Hoi el de Vallombrosa 
 and warn the Marquis." 
 
 "What about?" 
 
 " Mademoiselle has been carried off by bandits on coming out of church. 
 I — Boucheron — I am wouiuled ! " 
 
 " I'll run," said Poissou. But he changed his mind, and asked : 
 
 " How was she carried off ? " 
 
 " We were assailed by " 
 
 " Never mind that ! — Had these ravishers horses, or a carriage ? " 
 
 " A carriage, yes." 
 
 " Which way did they go ? " 
 
 " By the Rue St. Houore." 
 
 "Towards the Pont Neuf?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That's it then ! The Limours Road ! God be praised ! — Nothing is yet 
 lost." 
 
 But it was necessary to use all haste. He set off" for ihe Marquis's hotel 
 at a run ; not far from the door a man was walking, raising his eyes from time 
 to time to the lighted windows on the first floor. 
 
 " If it were Gaston ! " 
 
 It was, in fact, Gaston de FIcurbaix, who had come to dream in the neigh- 
 bourhood of his lady-love, as is the way of all desolate lovers. 
 
 Every evening brought him thus to the shadow of Aurora, and it was the 
 sole happiness of his sad love to feel himself near to her and sometimes to see 
 her silhouette behind the white curtains of the high windows. 
 
 Poisson accosted him. 
 
 '• Come, quickly ! " 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " To the Vallombrosas. Mademoiselle Aurora has been abducted. Hasten 
 to tell the Marquis, while I make my way to the stable and saddle two of the 
 best horses. There is not a minute to lose. By the way, say also to the 
 Marquis that one of his men is lying wounded in the street there." 
 
 An instant later, they were beating at the door of the hotel, and had rushed 
 oft", Poissou to the stables, Gaston to the reception rooms, to the great amaze-
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 91 
 
 ment of the porters. In two words Gaston explained the distressing occurrence 
 of which he had just heard to the Marquis and the Marchioness. The gi-ief of 
 Aurora's parents was immense ; but he did not give them time to display it to 
 him, as haste was before all things necessary. Having told them that he was 
 borrowing two of their horses, he went down into the courtyard. 
 
 The Marquis followed him, and when he was in the satldle, said : 
 
 " Take this pistol and this dagger. You may have need of them. I curse 
 these years of mine that do not permit me to go with you. God bless your 
 undertaking, and when you restore our dear child to us, would that you could 
 discover the name of him who thus pursues her with his hatred." 
 
 " I have good hopes," said Gaston ; and as Poisson was already mounted, 
 they dashed off together at the top of their speed. 
 
 " Where are we going ? " 
 
 "The Limours Road." 
 
 They galloped side by side. 
 
 " Wliat start can they have got ? " Gaston asked of his companion, an 
 instant later. 
 
 " About an hour's." 
 
 " Are we on the right road ? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 The pace at which they were going rendered long conversations difScult, but 
 Poisson managed to tell Gaston the little that he knew. 
 
 At Arcueil a tavern was open, and Poisson asked the landlord if he had 
 seen a carriage pass. 
 
 " Yes. About an hour ago, and it was going at high speed." 
 
 " Post-horses r " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where is the first change ? " 
 
 " At Bourg-la-Reiue." 
 
 They pursued their way with rather better hopes, and at Bourg-la-Reine 
 the news they received from the ostler was exactly the same. In the carriage 
 there were three vagabonds, ill-clothed and foul of tongue, and a young 
 girl who appeared to have lost consciousness. 
 
 " When did they pass ? " 
 
 " About three-quarters of an hour ago." 
 
 Their horses were magnificent animals, and they did not change thorn. 
 They hoped to catch up with the ravishers before Palaisean, l)ut this hope was 
 vain ; but at any rate they heard that the carriage which held Aurora was only 
 about twenty minutes in advance of them. One more effort !
 
 52 THE TA.VERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 At length, not far from Gif, they heard in front of them the bells of the 
 post-horses and the eracks of the postillion's whip. With great thrusts of the 
 spurs they forced their horses along, and were soon beside the carriage they 
 had pursued with such determination. A glance in passing jiroved they were 
 not mistaken, and a second later Gaston threatened to shoot the postillion, and 
 so forced him to draw rein. 
 
 " Have at them ! " cried Gaston. 
 
 The doors opened. Pochelu and MarmissoUe flung themselves out and 
 rushed upon their assailants. Gaston had his pistol in his hand, and seeing 
 MarmissoUe coming at him with uplifted sword, he took aim, fired, and stretched 
 him dead at his feet. Poisson, surprised by Pochelu, would have been thrust 
 through and through, had not his horse fortunately reared at the sound of 
 firing. The ruffian's sword buried itself in the horse's breast, while the 
 comedian, seizing his advantage, struck a blow at the head of Pochelu with 
 his fist, which stunned him and rolled him over on the ground. 
 
 " So much for one," said Gaston. 
 
 " And for two ! " said Poisson. " But where is the third ? " 
 
 The third, the captain, Caldegas, more dead than alive, was striving to 
 crawl under the seat, with the ineffectual prudence of the ostrich. 
 
 "Ah! the viUain!" 
 
 Poisson gripped him by the feet, and hauled him out of the carriage, and 
 with a stout rope which the postillion gave him on promise of a pourhoirr, he 
 made a neat parcel, easily carried, of the chief of the banditti. Pochelu was 
 similarly honoured. This done, the two bullies were hoisted up and tied on the 
 roof of the vehicle. 
 
 " I shall mount guard on the box to look after them," said Poisson. In 
 the meantime, Gaston de Fleur])aix had approached Aurora. 
 
 " Be at ease. Mademoiselle ; it is your friends who come to deliver you." 
 
 "You ? " she exclaimed, with a joyful note of surprise. " Saved, and by you ! " 
 
 Gaston was handsomely repaid for his trouble and his fears by the accent 
 in which Aurora pronounced these words. This happiness was repeated when 
 he saw the beautiful young girl, worn-out by the emotions of that evening, 
 lose consciousness again and sink back upon the cushions of the carriage. In 
 a second he was beside her, and took her in his arms. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Aurora!" But she did not regain consciousness. "Quick," 
 he shouted through the window, " to the nearest inn ! " 
 
 The carriage proceeded, and five minutes later stopped, n(>ar the bi-idge 
 of Gif, at a good hostelry.
 
 While slo\\ly Nvriting he listened with all his ears."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 95 
 
 Gaston would allow uo oue but himself to lift the faiutiug Aurora. With 
 infinite care, he carried the graceful body of his beloved in his arms to the 
 best chamber the house afforded, and with the assistance of the landlady, tried 
 all the remedies employed in such cases. In a few moments she came to 
 herself. 
 
 "Thank you," said she, still looking at Gaston, who was holding her hand 
 anxiously. " Do not be afraid. I am worn-out with fatigue and emotion, and 
 slightly feverish, but I am very happy. If only my parents could know of my 
 rescue ! " 
 
 "They know already that I am in pursuit of your enemies. I will send 
 them an express messenger." 
 
 Gaston went down; arriving in the hall, he found the landlord in high 
 merriment, and the servants holding their sides and laughing till they cried. 
 
 "Ah! what a funny fellow!" said the landlord. "But," he added, on 
 seeing Gaston de Fleurbaix approach, "you are looking perhaps for your com- 
 panion, my lord ? It is he who has made us laugh thus. He has just 
 borrowed Catherine's petticoat and Fanchon's bodice, and he has gone away 
 with the carriage after telling me to beg you not to be anxious about him." 
 " And the two scoundrels ? " 
 
 " He has only taken one of them, my lord. The other is being kept cool 
 in the dairy. He has taken away the big one, who looked very queer. Ah, 
 what a humorous fellow he was, with all respect, that friend of yours. If you 
 had only seen how he undressed Fanchon ! " 
 
 " Ah, very good," said Gaston, who was burning to rejoin Aurora. And he 
 explained what he wanted, with peremptory reasons in the form of new crowns. 
 Landlords raise no objections to such methods ; therefore, some moments later, 
 one of the servants set off for Paris at full speed, charged with a letter from 
 Monsieur de Fleurbaix to the Marquis of Vallombrosa. 
 
 Gaston went back to Aurora, and to show at the same time his love and 
 his respect, he begged the landlady to be good enough to watch with him 
 while the young girl slept. 
 
 Aurora appreciated this; she smiled sweetly upon her liberator, and held 
 out her hand, which he kept in his all through the night. Thus innocently she 
 slept, and no doubt some happy dream visited her, for it seemed to Gaston 
 that her face wore an expression of Divine rapture. God knows if they were 
 sweet also, those dreams of the waking Gaston, as he held Aurora's little 
 hand!
 
 IN WHICH POISSON PLAYS A COMEDY PART. 
 
 14
 
 Gaston fired and stretched MarmissoUe at bis feet." 
 
 VII. 
 
 IN WHICH POISSON PLAYS A COMEDY PART. 
 
 WHILE Gaston had been engaged with Aurora, Poisson had 
 had an idea. The adventure interested him, )>ut it pleased 
 liim to have the final word, and for this it was necessary to 
 pursue it to the end. But how ? Nothing more simple. Had 
 he not all the threads of the intrigue in his hand, in the 
 person of Caldegas ? It only remained for him to make use of these clues 
 to arrive at the hand that controlled these puppets. All this was in the 
 province of comedy. Either one is a dramatist or one is not. The moment 
 had arrived to display some imagination. A primary idea presented itself to 
 his mind. It was Aurora whom they were after — let him then discover a sham 
 Aurora and continue the journey. But the role of the young girl, which he 
 prepared himself to assume, possessed, like that of the Marquis at the Hotel de 
 Bourgogne, one little drawback : a woman's dress was necessary. 
 
 " A woman's dress," said Poisson to himself, eyeing the servants. " But here 
 are two. My dear, lend me your petticoat ? My sweet child, give nu» your 
 
 99
 
 loo THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 pretty bodice ; your beauty will lose nothing by being a little less bidden, and 
 I know of some one who would gain greatly by being a little more concealed. 
 Do not defend yourself; — for a gown of winsey you shall have one in silk from 
 Tours. And you — what is your name, Funchon, eh? Well, my charming 
 Fanchon, I will give you a gold cross, and two kisses, to deck that attractive 
 bosom. So the bargain is struck ! Here are the kisses first. Aha — you 
 will laugh well when you know the upshot; but I shall not tell it you till my 
 return, for, in the meantime, I know no more than you do ! " 
 
 Whilst speaking, he helped the girls to undress themselves; and they, 
 docile creatures, permitted him and only laughed. Wlien he had got their 
 garments, he confided MarmissoUe to the care of the landlord, made Caldegas 
 get into the carriage, seated him on the front seat, and said to the postillion : 
 
 " Now, my friend, continue your journey." 
 
 The carriage drove ofl'. 
 
 Raymond, finding himself alone with Caldegas, addressed him in some such 
 language as this : 
 
 " You have been caught, comrade, but I owe you no grudge for that. I 
 am a good fellow, and if you serve me well, I will set you at liberty. There, 
 does that suggestion please you? Thus, you will first conduct me to where 
 you were about to take Mademoiselle de Vallombrosa ; and now I had better 
 add that I have not the least confidence in you. You see, I have this good 
 dagger. It belongs to my friend. If, by chance, you mistake the road, if you 
 set any sort of trap for me — before falling into it I shall always have time to 
 bury it in your stomach. Now, as I do not wish to bore you, decide. Will 
 you obey me, or do you prefer to make the acquaintance of this blade, which 
 must be from Toledo, like all good blades ? " 
 
 And to add greater weight to his words, Poisson pointed his weapon at 
 the miserable Caldegas, bound and trembhng. 
 
 " I swear before God I will serve you well," said the bandit — " before God, 
 the Blessed Mother, and the holy angels." 
 
 " Well, then, where are we going ? " 
 
 "To the Castle of Roquesante, in Yveline." 
 
 " There is a Count of Roquesante, I beheve ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Yes, there is one. By the same token he is very ugly. And it is he who 
 has ordered you to " 
 
 " No. It was a woman." 
 
 " A woman ? What is her name ? "
 
 3^' 
 
 ) 'V 
 
 
 A^^ 
 
 •y 
 
 Gaston and Poisson.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 103 
 
 " I do not kuow it." 
 
 Poissou looked sideways at Caldegas. 
 
 " I do uot kuow it, I swear to you. All I kuow of her is the colour of 
 her mouey aud the colour of her eyes. She is a dark womau, youug and very 
 beautiful." 
 
 " Well," said Poissou, " we shall soou kuow if you have spoken the truth, 
 for I am going to see her. Shall we fiud her at the chateau ? " 
 
 " She awaits me there." 
 
 " Good. Caldegas, I am fairly content with you ; and to prove to you my 
 satisfaction, I will do you the honour of assigning to you a small part in a 
 comedy of my composition; but first, comrade, permit me to tell you that your 
 costume leaves something to be desired. One owes something to women, and 
 it would not be decent for you to present yourself in that apparel. Therefore, 
 give me your hat, your cloak, aud your doublet." 
 
 "Alas, sir, my hands are tied." 
 
 "You are right. I will undo them, but do uot forget that I have always 
 my good dagger." 
 
 " Sir, be assured that I have not the least idea of resisting you." 
 
 " I believe you." 
 
 Poissou unbound Caldegas, aud made him yield up his captain's apparel, 
 with which he at once clothed himself. 
 
 " What do you think of me ? " he asked, donning successively each bit of 
 this picturesque and tattered raiment. " Have I not the air of a regular 
 scamp ? See me complete now," added he, jamming Caldegas's felt upon his 
 head with a blow of his fist. "I have no looking-glass, but I see by your 
 face that I have a fearsome appearance. You see, comrade, it is not the first 
 time that I have gathered my clothes from the back of a neighbour. At the 
 same time, I should tell you that as a rule I choose fresher ones than yours. 
 Now, you cannot remain in that elemeatary costume; put <»n this dress, this 
 bodice " 
 
 "You desire me to " 
 
 "Comrade, wherever I am, there is always some fun in the air. My 
 character is not without a sense of humour, and I have an iuveterate passion 
 for masquerading; so, if you desire to be agreeable, do not refuse to satisfy 
 my caprice. Otherwise, we shall fall out." 
 
 " Sir, I see that you are a man both humorous aud terrible. 1 will do 
 all that you wish ; but possibly the dress will be short ? ' 
 " In the matter of dresses, the shortest are the best."
 
 I04 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 Poissou assisted Caldegas to disguise himself; and wbeu the petticojit was 
 adjusted aud the bodice fastened, Raymond surveyed his handiwork. 
 
 " That does not fall in with your style of beauty," he went on ; " but throw 
 upon your head this Spanish mantilla whieh Mademoiselle Aurorji has fortu- 
 nately been obliged to leave behind her, eover your beard Avith this laet?, and 
 you will be quite unrecognisable. Further, you will throw over your long legs 
 a horse-cloth, for which I shall ask the postillion." 
 
 During these arrangements, the carriage had made good progress. After 
 
 ('/ 
 
 1^ jiriPir^H 
 
 
 " 'Take this pistol and this dagger.' " 
 
 passing Limours \{ weni on through Bonnelles ; they were approaching the 
 Castle of Roquesnnte. 
 
 " Now," said Poisson to his travelling companion, " it is time to settle the 
 tinal mi.sc-cn-sci'nc. Have you understood what I expect of you ? " 
 
 "A little." 
 
 " I will com])]('te your education. For the moment, my dear bandit, you 
 represent, although unworthily, the most charming Mademoiselle Aurora de 
 Vallombrosa. It is a dumb role. For two hours you have beeu in a fainting 
 condition, which naturally obviates your opening your mouth while I am 
 present. Afterwards your own wit will dictate to you the repartees suitable to
 
 ' Gaston threatened to shoot the postillion." 
 
 15
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 107 
 
 the situation. lu the meantime, stretch yourself uaturally in the back of 
 the carriage, for it would not be seemly that a damsel of high degree 
 such as you are should remain on the front seat while a scoundrel such as I 
 am lounges in the place of honour. There ; put yourself in that corner, with 
 your face to the cushions, the mantilla a little drooped behind so as to hide 
 your back, which is a trifle long ! — what a back ! Can you not alter it ? The 
 horse-cloth pulled well up. There, that is good, very good ! And, now. 
 Mademoiselle, feign to be dead ! " 
 
 The portcullis of the Chateau of Roquesante was lowered and the door 
 
 " The caiTiage proceeded." 
 
 opened at the sound of the carriage. Poissou shivered slightly as he looked at 
 the Castle. 
 
 "What a prison I I know how T am going in, but to ^i^i out will not be 
 so simple, iierhajjs." 
 
 Fortunately for him, Lorenza, who would not permit all her household to 
 share the secret of her enterprises, was waiting inside the postern-gate with 
 her duenna and the porter. 
 
 As she made a sign, the carriage came to a halt. Poisson sprang to the 
 ground and .stood between the Countess and the carriage door.
 
 io8 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " Madsime," said he, " the eneountei* has been hot, hotter even than the 
 first. My captain is grievously wounded. Mademoiselle has fared no better. 
 Still, we have succeeded. She whom you expected is here, and I was to haud 
 her over in exchange for a certain sum " 
 
 As he pronouiu'cd these words, it seemed to him that there was a move- 
 ment in the carriage; the bandit found it little to his liking that another 
 should receive the reward in his phice. 
 
 Poisson turned (piickly, and, concealed by the cloak of the rascal, he pre- 
 sented his dagger to the breast of Caldegas. 
 
 "Poor young lady!" said he; "she has renuiiued unconscious thus for 
 more than au hour. Sometimes she is seized with a nervous trembUng, aiul 
 moans softly. It is heartbreaking." 
 
 Caldegas, threatened by the sharp blade, uiulerstood what was wanted of 
 him, and emitted a heavy groan. 
 
 "My mission is at an end," said Poisson, turning round again, "and 
 when Madame shall have handed to me that which she owes and which 
 Caldegas expects " 
 
 " Give me my purse," said Loreuza to her duenna. 
 
 " Here it is, my lady." 
 
 Poisson, while pocketing the purse, looked at the Countess in a fashion 
 calculated to imprint her characteristic features on his memory ; — as to that, 
 Lorenza's beauty was of a kind easily remembered. 
 
 "Now," said Lorenza to Poisson, "help me to get out this young girl." 
 
 " I am extremely sorry," responded Raymond, " but really, I have not the 
 heart. The poor child harrows my feelings. Besides, I have accomplished my 
 mission, and my comrades await me." With two bounds he was out of the 
 Castle ; with all speed he reached the obscurity of the neighbouring wood, and, 
 abandoning the common paths, he buried himself in the undergrowth for better 
 safety. 
 
 Loreuza, astonished and uneasy, opened the door of the carriage, seized 
 by the arm the apparently fainting occupant, drew her to the light, and 
 recoiled in despair on seeing the dark and bearded face of Caldegas.
 
 He carried the graceful body of his beloved in his arms.
 
 THE AQUAMARINES.
 
 The i'ligiit of Kayiuoml. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE AQUAMABINES. 
 
 LORENZA returned to Paris the same uiglit, with rage in Lev heart, 
 and meditating a revenge that shouUl lie terrible and certain. Twice 
 had her projects been balHed. Twiee liad tlie intervention of 
 Providence diverted the fate she intended for Aurora de Vallom- 
 brosa. The phin of the Italian wouum had, however, been well 
 contrived; it would have required but one gesture from her, in that sinister 
 Castle of Roquesante, to annihilate, at the bottom of one of the old dungeons, 
 the race she was pursuing with her hatred. No, of a surety she would not 
 abandon her vengeance, and already she was preparing fresh and more 
 formidable machinations. 
 
 On her return, as she entered the mansion, there was ii surprise awaiting 
 her. In the Court of Honour, shrul)s and flowers lent an air of festivity to 
 the old grey walls ; in the vestibule, pot-herbs in the Flemish fashion were 
 
 i6 
 
 113
 
 114 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 jirrauged. The salous ou the first floor, silvvays locked, lisul been opened aud 
 arranged for a reception. Tlie covers had been taken oft" the fine furniture, 
 and tlie crystal lustres, mirrors, and brackets bore witness to recent attention. 
 
 " What is happening ? " she inquired. 
 
 It was tho Count who replied to her. 
 
 "My dear Lorenza, you have anticipated your return by a day, and you 
 surprise uie in the preparations I am making (»n your belialf. I inulerstaud — 
 you have frequently told me — that a young woman cannot live an isolated life, 
 
 l)o you prefer Lo iiiako tliu iic(jiuiiiitaiicu of tlii.s blade? 
 
 like a nun ; my only desire being to please you, I have resolved, in conse- 
 quence, to uu>dity our manner of living. While you were taking the air at 
 Roquesante, and fleeing from uh', naughty one, I have organised a masked 
 ball. The invitations are issued for the day Jifter to-morrow, and I trust that 
 this fete, of which you will be the Queen, will not be too unworthy of you." 
 
 Loreu/a looked at her husljiind, and asked herself if she were dreaming. 
 The Count wore, in speaking, a smile that might be interpreted in more ways 
 than oue. This smile was always odious to her, it accorded so ill with the 
 rough and repulsive face of her husband. In the meantime, he showed himself 
 most attentive, led Lorenza through the salons aud showed her all the arrange-
 
 " Ah ! what a humorous fellow he was (see page 95).
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 117 
 
 meuts he bad made; and although the Itahau woman fonnd Roquesante even 
 more detestable in his amiability than in his anger, she could not prevent herself 
 from congratulating and thanking him. He had, indeed, thought of everything. 
 A superb toilette had been prepared for the Countess ; it was in cloth of silver, 
 with pipings of rose colour, and a panier and side panels of black velvet 
 trinnned with gold and silver lace ; the bodice was sewn over with pearls and 
 
 SI 
 
 cm 
 
 Poisson made Caldegas yield up his captain's apparel. 
 
 fastened with diamonds, and cut low at the neck, while Venice point lace set 
 off the collar and cuffs of this elegant confection. 
 
 Lorenza asked to be shown the list of guests; all the Court was repre- 
 sented, with the King at its head, then the Marquis de Villeroy, Roquelaure, 
 the Comte de Guiche, Fequilaris, Saiut-Aignan, the Marquis of Vallombrosa, 
 Brillac, Gaston de Fleurbaix, D'Aligre, the Duke de Maufort, Villequier, &c., &c. 
 
 Lorenza concealed the very diverse sensations which the names of Vallom- 
 brosa and De Maufert caused her.
 
 ii8 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " All is perfectly arranged," said she, 
 
 "All, I am forgetting one detail. Cliampngne will come to dress your 
 hair." 
 
 " You have thought of everything," she replied, graciously. 
 
 " You will allow uw to finish what I have begun ? "' 
 
 She made a sign of acquiescence and went up to her own rooms. After 
 having saluted her martyrs, she opened a cnhinet of ebony inlaid with ivory, in 
 
 ft 
 
 iV' ? 
 
 .■>- 
 
 if]i^ 
 
 /,"-. ._. 
 
 
 .^H 
 
 I.. 
 
 ^H 
 
 J,, 
 
 .^^/ii'-ifPi 
 
 i?^ 
 
 The carriage entered the yard of the castle. 
 
 which she kept her jewels, and spread them out in front of her. Amongst the 
 number there was a magnificent collar of aquamarines ; Lorenza contemplated 
 for a long time these precious .stones, whose colour is soft and blue like the 
 waves, and strange lights shone in her deep eyes. She put aside the necklace 
 and its ca.sket, and when night came, and she went out, as was her custom, 
 with her duenna, she carried the jewels beneath her mantle. She directed her 
 steps to the Rue Saint-Antoiue, and not far from the church of St. Paul she 
 knocked in a special manner at the door of a house which appeared to be
 
 Lorenza opened the door.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 121 
 
 uninhabited, as all the shutters were rigidly closed. Almost immediately the 
 door opened. An hour later, she came out without the casket ; she was 
 radiant. A man of suspicious appearance escorted her to the threshold, and 
 took leave of her in these words : 
 
 " Al pincere di revederla." 
 
 The man who spoke thus was evidently a compatriot of Lorenza's, aud 
 without doubt one of those officious Italians whom the Medici harboured 
 beneath her royal shadow. 
 
 Lorenza returned to her hotel with a firm tread, sure this time of success. 
 But behind her, walking with silent wolf-steps, hiding itself in the dark corners, 
 a lithe figure dressed completely in black followed in her track, and never lost 
 sight of her. 
 
 17
 
 A BETROTHAL GIFT.
 
 hi^;'^'-^^'^ ^^^^^1 ^ 
 
 ■0/W~ 
 
 ^^-4 ^^'^'f -'^;i^^^^ 
 
 "*t.f-^ 
 
 She opened a cabinet of ebony. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A BETROTHAL GIFT. 
 
 WE left flastoii at the hostelry of Gif, holding Auroras hand 
 and watchiuir over her sliiinbers. When the dawn eanie, the 
 yoiiug girl wakened, quite naturally ; her eyes fell imme- 
 diately upon Gaston, and as she looked at him she blushed 
 with modesty and pleasure. 
 "Do you feel better, Mademoiselle? We were so anxious, Madame and 
 I," he went on, indicating the landlady, "that we have not been able to bring 
 ourselves to leave you for a single instant," 
 
 125
 
 126 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur," replied Aurorn, " I am very fortunate to have a body- 
 guard so devoted as yourself. This is the second time you have saved my life. 
 But what have I done to merit the hatred which pursues me, and against 
 which both God and you have constantly protected me ? " 
 
 " A blind hatred. But perhaps we shall soon know with whom we have 
 to deal. I hope that Poisson, my comrade in arms, will bring us news on his 
 return." 
 
 " Has he not yet come back ? " 
 
 "No, Mademoiselle." 
 
 "If only no harm has befallen him ! For I owe him a part of my 
 thanks." 
 
 " A large part, Mademoiselle. He was also with me on the occasion of 
 the encounter on the Pont Neuf." 
 
 " How was it I did not notice him ? " said Aurora with astonishment, and 
 she blushed again, for she thought that she might perhaps have noticed Poisson 
 had she not given all her attention to Gaston de Fleurbaix. 
 
 "My parents must be very anxious,"* she added. 
 
 "They have been told, and without doubt they will hasten to you." 
 
 " Do not let us wait for them ; I feel quite strong ; if you like we will 
 start before they come." 
 
 " I will go and make jjreparations for our departure." 
 
 "And I will dress." 
 
 Gaston kissed Aurora's hand and went down. An hour later, a carriage 
 which he had discovered in the neighbourhood conveyed him to Paris with his 
 beloved. 
 
 All this time Poisson had not returned. Oh, what a happy journey they 
 made together, alone in this chance vehicle ! Gaston would have liked to 
 travel thus to the end of the world, in a perpetual dream. It was a 
 rapture of heart and soul to him to see his beloved so near, to feel her at 
 his side. They spoke but little, for already they loved each other too well, 
 but their eyes were eloquent enough. They had already passed three hours 
 thus, and it seemed to Gaston that they were still at the beginning of the 
 journey, when they met the coach of the Marquis of Vallombrosa. 
 
 " So soon ! " thought Gaston. " How brief is happiness," 
 
 Both the Marquis and Marchioness had come; when the first greetings 
 and thanks were over with which Aurora's deliverer was overwhelmed, they 
 insiisted that Gaston should return with them to Paris. The young man 
 required no persuasion. On arrival he was kept to dinner, and did not leave
 
 "A man of suspicious appearance escorted her to the threshold" (sec page 121).
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 129 
 
 the Hotel Vallonibrosa till the evening, promising himself that he would often 
 return, as he had been urgently pressed to do. 
 
 His happiness would have been complete had not anxiety with regard to 
 Poissou been mixed with it. What could have happened to the joyous com- 
 panion in adventure that chance had given him ? Had he fallen into some 
 terrible trap ? Anything was to be feared, for Aurora's enemies did not seem 
 to be greatly embarrassed by scruples. Tormented by these ideas, Gaston went 
 to the Hotel de Crequi and to the house on the Quai des Morfondus where he 
 had received hospitality one night. There was no news to be had of Poisson. 
 Wearied out, he decided to go home and await the return of his valiant 
 friend. 
 
 Poisson did not come that evening, but on the stroke of midnight Gaston 
 de Fleurbaix received a laconic note from him. The note ran thus : 
 
 " I fear fresh danger. During the whole of to-morrow keep the Hotel de 
 Vallombrosa in view." 
 
 Poisson was alive! That was good. But what could be this new danger 
 that he feared ? Gaston might well cudgel his brains, but he could not guess. 
 The main point was, after all, to be warned and to watch. The order would be 
 devotedly carried out. From earliest dawn, Gaston was at his post, keeping 
 watch as discreetly as possible on the door of the Hotel from the windows of 
 a cabaret. The morning passed without incident ; the same might be said of 
 the day. Aurora did not go out. The Marquis and Marchioness remained with 
 her. Till supper-time there was nothing unusual about the house, whose doors 
 opened merely for the passing to and fro of the servants. 
 
 At nine o'clock in the evening, a coach stopped opposite the door ; Gaston 
 left the cabaret and went up to the carriage, and observed with sorrow that the 
 visitor was none other than the Due de Maufert, Aurora's Jiance. He arrived 
 with some ceremony, carrying in his hand an object which the spy could not 
 clearly distinguish. 
 
 " He harms no one except me ! " thought the poor lover. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later, the Duke came out with empty hands, ami 
 soon the street was untenanted. Gaston continued to mount guard. A few 
 moments later he saw Poisson hurry up. 
 
 " You ? My dear friend, at last ! " 
 
 " Not a minute to ])e lost," said Poisson, who seemed extraordinarily 
 agitated. " Ah, we have to deal with an implacable enemy, a terrible woman. 
 If only we do not come too late ! But, tell me, has no one been ? " 
 
 '"' No one to cause us any alarm." 
 
 18
 
 I30 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 " Not even the Duo cle Maut'ert ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he has just left." 
 
 "Theu let us liasteu, Aud may (toiI protect us." 
 
 They entered the Hotel, leapt up the stairs four steps at a tune, aiul, 
 kuoeking over the footuiau, reached the salou in which the family of the 
 Marquis was assembled. 
 
 As they rushed iu, they saw Aurora stretched on a sofa, her eyes closed, 
 her face horribly pale. Her mother was supporting her, and the Marcpiis, 
 nearly out of his mind, was ringing for the servants. 
 
 Poissou cast a glance around him; on a table stood an open casket. On 
 Aurora's white neck a superb riviere of aquamarines was glittering. 
 
 "This necklace," he asked. "It was the Due de Maufert who ?" 
 
 " Yes. 
 
 With both hands Poissou seized the collar roughly aud broke it; the pieces, 
 flung abroad, rolled upon the carpet. 
 
 The Marquis, the Marchioness, and Gaston stared at him in amazement. 
 " I will explain this to you, but first — see here." Aud he pointed out light red 
 marks, which reproduced the design of the broken riviere, on Aurora's neck. 
 
 " Ah, " cried he, " the Italians are clever people. It is in the scent of a 
 flower, the savour of a fruit, or the lustre of a gem that they introduce their 
 deadly poison. But, thanks be to God, my friend and I arrived in time! No 
 great harm has yet been done, and Mademoiselle de Vallombrosa will recover. 
 Besides, I have something about me which will help her." 
 
 He took a bottle from his pocket and made Aurora breathe it. Very soon 
 the young girl came to her senses. 
 
 " What has been the matter with me ? " she asked. 
 
 " Nothing," said the Marchioness, making a sign to the actors in this scene 
 not to contradict her. "A slight fainting fit; the fatigue aud the excitement of 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Yes, yes. It seemed as though life went suddenly away from me. But 
 I feel better. . . . You are there, my (Vieiul ? " she added, extending her 
 hand to Gaston. " I am very glad ..." 
 
 "My child," said the Marchioness, "do not tire yourself. Do not talk; you 
 need rest." 
 
 " Yes, mother ; but I would first like to thank Monsieur Poisson for his 
 devotion ; you know, I told you what he did for me with Monsieur de Fleur- 
 )aix. 
 
 " You will see them again, darling ! "
 
 "Almost immediately the door opened."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 133 
 
 " Often ? " 
 
 " Often." 
 
 " Very often ! "' 
 
 At the request of her mother, Aurora consented to retire, and Poisson 
 began giving the Marquis and Gaston the explanations they were expecting. 
 
 He narrated his journey to the Castle of Roquesante en Tveline, and how 
 he had escaped after having seen with his own eyes the woman who had pre- 
 pared, and caused to be carried out, the ambuscade. 
 
 " A great beauty, but diabolical. She was evidently the mistress of the 
 Castle, and the old woman following her gave her the title of Countess in my 
 hearing. I had but just left that hound of a Caldegas in her clutches when I 
 reached Limours by way of the woods. There, with the woman's money, I 
 procured a horse for myself and came back to Paris at full speed. I had no 
 sooner arrived than I decided to pursue my inquiries, and luck was on my 
 side. I knew where the Hotel de Roquesante was, and by questions framed 
 as adroitly as possible I learned that the Countess of Roquesante corresponded 
 with the appearance so indelibly graven on my memory. They told me also 
 that the Countess had arrived from her Castle only a few moments before 
 myself. I had seen suificient of the individual to know that she was capable 
 of anything, and that after such a rebuff she would seek an immediate revenge. 
 All my reasoning was confirmed. In the evening, the Countess went out with 
 her duenna : I followed them to a suspicious looking house in the Faubourg 
 Saint-Autoine, where they left a fairly large and flat object; and I accom- 
 panied them back to their dwelling without allowing myself to be seen. The 
 next evening I strolled down the street Saint-Antoiue, and I found on the 
 threshold certain honest gossips who gave me most extraordinary information 
 regarding the house to which the Countess had come on the previous evening. 
 It was the home of a sort of Italian scent-merchant, reputed to be an arrant 
 scoundrel, suspected of sorcery, capable of any villainy. Vo.r populi, ro,r 
 Dei. The indications were very grave. Thereupon I wrote a little note to 
 Monsieur de Fleurbaix. While you were doing sentry-go here, my dear friend, 
 I took up my post in the neighbourhood of the Hotel de Roquesante. Ah, ))ut 
 this day has been fruitful in revelations ! About two o'clock the Countess came 
 out with her inseparable, and first she went to fetch the object she had carried 
 to the Rue Saint-Antoiue. I saw her when she issued from that house. She 
 was radiant. She had all the joy of hell in her eyes. Oh, the wi-etch ! 
 Naturally I followed her. She directed her steps towards the Seine and followed 
 the quay on the right ))ank as far as the Pont Neuf, and then on the left
 
 134 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 bank towards the barrack!* of the Grey Musketeers. Not far from there is a 
 little house with a rather pretty walled-iu garden, where she was received, like 
 a person wlio is expected, by a gentleman whom you both know. I remained 
 on the other side of the wall, and felt considerably bored until it occurred to 
 me to assist at an interview which nnglit be curious for more reasons than 
 one. And I — my faith I scaled the obstacle ! I had only time to conceal myself 
 in a clump of trees when — criminals have these fatalities — the Countess and 
 her friend came and seated themselves two steps from where I was. I did 
 not lose a word of their conversation. The Due de Maufert was sad and 
 grave. ' Lorenza,' he said to her, ' cease to pursue this child who has never 
 injured you. Already, the first time, I was a witness to the harm you 
 attempted to do her; but I was ignorant then that she was its object. The 
 new^ attempt which has threatened her, and of which I have just heard, is also 
 your work — do not deny it. Renounce these projects. What have you against 
 this innocent creature ? ' Then the Italian replied with fervour that she loved 
 him, that she was jealous, that Mademoiselle de Vallombrosa was betrothed to 
 him, and that she would perpetrate a crime sooner than that this marriage 
 should take place. Then the Duke made her the offer that he shoidd himself 
 break ofl" the projected union on the condition that she should renounce the 
 pursuit of one who could throw no shadow of rivalry across her path. She 
 accepted the bargain, and in token of her good faith she begged the Duke to 
 go and bring from the house the casket she had just left on a table. I, 
 simpleton that I am, Ijelieved she was speaking sincerely; but scarcely had 
 the Duke disappeared than she allowed these words to escape her. 'This 
 time vengeance is within my grasp! And it will be you, Maufert, who shall be 
 its instrument." The Duke returned, and the Countess showed him the neck- 
 lace. He wanted to touch it; she prevented him from doing so. 'No,' said 
 she, ' I have just bought it ; let its freshness be untouched. The contact of 
 fingers dims these stones.' And she added, ' I intended to wear it to-morrow 
 night at the ball which we are giving, and to which you will come, will you 
 not ? But in order to prove to you that I love you, and that I pardon her 
 who will cease to be your betrothed one, I wish you to make her a present of 
 this necklet. She will not know where it comes from; she will receive it from 
 you. And in taking it from my hand to transfer it to her whom I hated, but 
 hate no longer, you will have, Henri, a proof that I renounce my old projects, 
 since you condemned them.' 
 
 " Monsieur de Maufert believed all this quite simply ; and after a love- 
 scene, upon which I will not dwell, he left in order to carry straight to Made-
 
 3^-- 
 
 " I saw . . . another inquisitive person slipping oU'."
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. ij7 
 
 ruoiselle de Vallombrosa the fatal present which ahiiost imperilled her life. 
 The Countess also left, and I thought that it was time for me to retire also aud 
 hurry here. But, judge of my astonishment ; when I found myself on the 
 top of the wall, I saw at the other end of the garden another inquisitive person 
 slipping off, like myself, without passing through the doors. I do not know 
 whether this being was working on his own account or on that of another, but 
 what an unwelcome figure ! . . . " 
 
 " Now," said the Marquis of Vallombrosa, " I know what remains for me 
 to do. I must have an immediate interview with Monsieur de Roquesante." 
 
 19
 
 BALLO IN MASCHERA.
 
 
 ^.r 
 
 f ^ ! 
 
 Gaston watched from the windows of a cabaret. 
 
 BALLO IN MASCEERA. 
 
 THE imitations sent out for the masked ball by the Count and 
 Countess de Roquesante had agitated the world of the Court. 
 During a whole week, there was no question of anything but this 
 event. 
 " The bear is being tamed," they said to one another. " Are 
 you going into his den? But why not? The Roquesantes are of the 
 old nobility. And besides, must one not celebrate the conversion of the 
 sinner ? He is converting himself to the world ; the world should hail this 
 metamorphosis gallantly." After this, the success of the fete was assured. The 
 evening arrived; Lorenza, admirable in her robe of cloth of silver, dazzling 
 with her strings of pearls and her knots of diamonds, her hair deliciously 
 dressed by Champagne, who had surpassed himself, and the Count dressed in 
 an entire suit of black velvet, saw representatives of the most illustrious families 
 in France defile before them. All were there : the La Rochefoucaulds, and 
 
 141
 
 142 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 the Moutmoreucys, the D'AHgres aucl the Moiithuisiers, the Crequis and the 
 Lamoignous ; the sword and the gowu. 
 
 The Marquis of Vallombrosa was amoug the first to arrive ; the Count 
 presented him inmiediately to Loreuza. 
 
 " One of my ohl friends and one of my best," said he. " But how is it 
 you are alone ? Is the Marchioness perhaps indisposed ? " 
 
 "No," replied the Marquis; "but she is staying with her daughter, who 
 has suffered since yesterday from an inexplicable illness." 
 
 " I hope it will prove to be nothing serious," added the Count. 
 
 " I hope so also," replied the Marquis. " Were it not for that, I should 
 not have been able, in spite of my desire, to be with you to-night." 
 
 " You have done well to come, all the same ; and I have reason to believe 
 that you will not regret it." 
 
 The Marquis passed on. Lorenza had not raised an eyebrow during this 
 colloquy, of which, at the same time, she had not lost the least word. Thus, 
 all was going on well. The only descendant of these accursed Vallonibrosas 
 was reached this time by the Italian's poison, more certainly than by the 
 bandit's l)lade. To-morrow without doubt, possibly to-night, Aurora would 
 succumb. Lorenza's task would be ended ; but to belong entirely to Henri de 
 Maufert, whom she now loved with all her strength, it remained to her to re- 
 move one obstacle. The Count must disappear, and should disappear. 
 
 The Countess's thoughts dwelt joyfully u2)ou this dream of liberty and love 
 won by a series of crimes. What mattered to her the road she took ? It 
 might be rough and bloody ; all was well, provided happiness, as she foresaw 
 it, were at the end of that road. 
 
 Meantime new arrivals followed on the heels of the first-comers. Julie 
 D'Angennes, the beautiful Julie, for whom the poets had wreathed their 
 garland, wore a white gown, covered with stars and leaves of gold in Persian 
 embroidery, clasped by a girdle of palest blue, which was tied in clustering 
 bows below her bosom. Her beautiful hair was l)ound with flowers and pearls. 
 Two large emeralds blazed upon her shoulders. A bracelet of gold filigree 
 encircled her white arm, and her hands were hidden by gloves of Bruges lace. 
 Every one was in ecstasy before the ravishing toilette. Roquelaure, to whom 
 M. de Roquesante could have given points in a competition of ugliness, had 
 decided to come as Apollo : he was very much noticed. Lorenza began to 
 throw impatient glances towards the door. Too fastidious, too emotional to 
 appreciate a pleasure until it was complete, she was astonished that Maufert 
 was not more eager to assist at his triumph. For it was indeed his triumph.
 
 i'/'e^ge^^ 
 
 "Do you feel better, Mademoiselle?'
 
 
 All hour later, a carriaj^e conveved him with his beloved. 
 
 lo
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 147 
 
 and she was taking the principal part in it. Henceforth the worhl, from which 
 her husband had sechided her, was opening at her feet, and she knew herself 
 to be both beautiful enough and clever enough to take the place her ambition 
 demanded. The bear who became civilised in this fashion had some good in 
 him, and perhaps it would be well to await the complete development of the 
 situation which was foreshadowed to-night, before suppressing him. It was 
 a question of time, but not of principle. The arrivals became fewer ; they were 
 the belated ones. A baidier appeared, decked out in gold, followed by his wife, 
 running over with fat and wearing a gown of gold, over gold, endiroidered in 
 gold, with a gold fringe to it, clasped with gold of one colour mingled with 
 gold of another colour. A joke ran round the salons at the expense of this 
 couple, brand-new, like crowns that morning minted. 
 
 " Do you know what costume he is wearing ? " 
 
 " 'Gad, he is disguised as the golden calf." 
 
 "And his wife?" 
 
 "'Gad, as the wife of the golden calf!" 
 
 Villequier, who had perpetrated this joke, laughed over it till he cried, 
 and still the Due de Maufert did not arrive. What could he be doing ? 
 Lorenza asked herself. " He swore to me that he would come. Is he throwing 
 me over ? Does what he has seen of my hatred make me odious to him ? He 
 was sad enough when I went to see him, bnt l:efore I left my kisses had 
 restored and reconquered him. However, what I hear of the health of Made- 
 moiselle de Vallombrosa proves that he has fjiithfully executed the first of his 
 promises. He will keej) the second aho, and will come." But in spite of 
 herself a certain agitation seized her. 
 
 " You seem impatient," said the Count to her. 
 
 " Oh, no," she replied, resuming her impassive air. 
 
 " The task of a host is a weary one," continued he ; " but in a few minutes 
 we shall be able to quit our posts." 
 
 The dances were going gaily forward, tlu' fete was a conqdete success, 
 and the guests appeared delighted. 
 
 " Are you satisfied with your servant ? " asked the Count. 
 
 " It would be difficult not to be so." 
 
 A few more minutes passed. Suddenly, in the middle of a dance, a great 
 sound of drums was heard, and a strange pi-ocession made its appearance. 
 The dancers stopped, foreseeing a surprise, and fastened their eyes on the 
 new spectacle. Six nuisks entered, all dressed in red gowns, their heads 
 covered with red hoods, the points of which fell upon their chests. There
 
 148 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 was uothing by which these six peopk' couUl he recognised; even theii* glances 
 became im])ersonal through the lioles in their hoods. The first two carried 
 torches, the four others bore a litter upon which hiy a man masked and hidden 
 by a red domino. This curious procession made the tour of the grand gallery, 
 and returned to put down their burden before the master and mistress of the 
 house. Everybody's curiosity was at tlie highest pitch, and the madcap De 
 
 "I saw another inquisitive person." 
 
 Vivonne went up to the man in the domino and said, with a laugh, " Fair 
 mask, will you dance ? " 
 
 The masker gave no sign. 
 
 " Then," said the Count, turning to his wife, " it must be our part to do 
 honour to him who condescends to visit us. Come, Madame." 
 
 He took her hand, and led her forward two steps. With a quick move-
 
 ^MU^flk 
 
 Oh, what a happy journey they made toj^ether !
 
 'fi mMi 
 
 
 -% 
 
 
 
 
 
 k; 
 
 :>i'r^ 
 
 (ZQIiHr£,i^l 
 
 They met the coach of the Marquis of Vallombrosa.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 ^53 
 
 ment he tore the mask from the face of the outstretched man, and shouted iu 
 
 a voice of thuuder — 
 
 " You were expecting your lover, Madame. He is here ! " 
 
 Loreuza sank upon her knees. Mechanically her hand sought Maufert's, 
 
 but when she felt it cold as the grave and understood that she was before the 
 
 corpse of the only man she had ever loved, she gave a wild cry and fell 
 
 senseless. 
 
 '"^m:! 
 
 As they rushed in, they saw Aurora stretched on a sofa, horribly pale. 
 
 After that memorable evening, no one ever saw the Countess again. The 
 charitable declared that she died of the seizure ; others hinted that the dungeons 
 of Roquesante could perhai)s explain her disappearance. If the old Castle had 
 its secret, it kept it. Every guess, even the blackest, was possible. 
 
 This tragedy, moreover, was soon forgotten. A month later, there was no 
 longer a thought of it among the brilliant crowd assembled to applaud the 
 comedians of the Hotel de Bourgogne, and amongst these, a new actor 
 endowed with the highest qualities and possessing in a supreme degree the 
 
 21
 
 154 
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 
 
 jjift of provoking lauiilili'i-. Ho was iH'rrt'cl in his coiiiic role of the ridiculous 
 marquis, Jiiul alUiouifli it was tlio lirst time that thoy had seeu themselves on 
 the boards, the marquises were the first io praise the interpreter for the truth 
 and the delieaev of his acting-. This c(Muedian, recalled and ai)i)lauded, was, 
 as will have been uruessed, Raymond Poisson, and the superb court costume 
 
 " I saw my nifliaii again yesterday. 
 
 he wore was the response of the Duke de C'requi to the rhymed letter 
 composed on a table iu the Tavern of the Three Virtues. 
 
 At the end of the play, the Manpiis of Vallombrosa, the Marchioness, 
 their daughter, and Gaston de Fleurbai.x, who never left them now, went to 
 offer their compliments to Poisson.
 
 THE TAVERN OF THE THREE VIRTUES. 155 
 
 " We wish also, uiy dear frieud," said Gaston, " to tell you a great piece 
 uews. 
 
 " I eau make a good guess at its nature," returned Poisson. 
 
 "The wretch!" exclaimed Aurora, "he will not allow us to tell him. I 
 wish it to be told all the same. Monsieur Gaston de Fleurbaix has won my 
 hand from my parents." 
 
 " And perhaps from yourself also. Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Oh, as for me, I gave it him in the hostelry of Gif, and I vowed to 
 myself, since he seemed to find so nuich pleasure in keeping it, that I would 
 never take it away from him again." 
 
 " Well spoken, indeed ! You deserve. Mademoiselle, all the love that 
 Gaston has for you. But, speaking of Gif, you remember, perhaps, that on 
 that evening I conducted to Roquesante a ruflftau nmttled up in woman's clothes, 
 and that I had the audacity — what a profanation! — to pass him off for you. 
 Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, I saw my ruiiian again yesterday ! " 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " On a gallows. And very much at home he looked there ! "
 
 ri- 
 
 ' The Couutess and her friend seated themselves. 
 
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 UC SOUTHERN REGC'' 
 
 Mill I itlllll|lllllllllll III 
 
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 The tavern 
 oftheTHREE 
 VIRTUES 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 FROM THE 
 ORIGINAL OF 
 SAINT-JUIRS