7/ / THE COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE By H. DE BALZAC SCENES FROM PROVINCIAL LIFE THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES AN OLD MAID BALZAC'S NOVELS. Translated by Miss K. P. Wormeley. Already Published: PERE GORIOT. DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS. RISE AND FALL OF CESAR BIROTTEAU. EUGENIE GRANDET. COUSIN PONS. THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. THE TWO BROTHERS. THE ALKAHEST (La Recherche deTAbsolu). MODESTE MIGNON. THE MAGIC SKIN (La Peau de Chagrin). COUSIN BETTE. LOUIS LAMBERT. BUREAUCRACY (Les Employe's). SERAPHITA. SONS OF THE SOIL (Les Paysans). FAME AND SORROW (Chat-qui-pelote). THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. URSULA. AN HISTORICAL MYSTERY. ALBERT SAVARUS. BALZAC : A MEMOIR. PIERRETTE. THE CHOUANS. LOST ILLUSIONS. A GREAT MAN OF THE PROVINCES IN PARIS. THE BROTHERHOOD OF CONSOLATION. THE VILLAGE RECTOR. MEMOIRS OF TWO YOUNG MARRIED WOMEN. CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. LUCIEN DE RUBEMPRE. FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS. A START IN LIFE. THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT. BEATRIX. DAUGHTER OF EVE. THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES. ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. t » HON ORE DE BALZAC; : : TRANSLATED BY KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY THE Gallery of Antiquities ROBERTS BROTHERS 3 SOMERSET STREET BOSTON 1896 » c c c e r e c e ' ' a c ( 1 , f C ° C C o c c CC , C/rfrn GIFT OF Copyright, 1896, By Roberts Brothers. ^4// rights reserved. JSmbersitg flress : John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. To Monsieur le Baron de Hammer-Purgstall, Aulic Councillor, and Author of the "History op the Ottoman Empire." Dear Baron, — You have been so warmly interested in my long and vast history of French manners and morals in the nineteenth century, and you have given such encourage- ment to my work, that I feel you have granted me the right to put your name on one of its fragments. Are you not one of the most earnest representatives of studious and con- scientious Germany ? Your approbation will surely command that of others, and protect my enterprise. I am proud to have obtained it ; and I endeavor to deserve it by continu- ing my work with the same perseverance which has char- acterized your studies and your researches into documents, without which the literary world would never have obtained the monumental work you have bestowed upon it. Your sympathy for my labors has often sustained my ardor during those long nights spent on the details of our modern society ; it will please you to know this, you whose simple- hearted kindness can be compared only to that of our La Fontaine. I wish, dear baron, that this mark of my reverence for you and for your work might reach you at Dobling, and remind both you and yours of your most sincere admirer and friend, De Balzac. contents. THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES. PAGE I. Two Salons 1 II. A Bad Education 23 III. Preparations for a Journey to Court . 39 IV. Victurnien's De'but 57 V. The Duchesse de Maufrigneuse ... 71 VI. Forewarnings 88 VII. A Crime 98 VIII. Chesnel to the Rescue 114 IX. A Provincial Court 136 X. The Examining-Judge 150 XL A Judicial Battle 165 AN OLD MAID. I. One of many Chevaliers de Valois . . 187 II. Susannah and the Elders 201 III. Athanase 225 TV. Mademoiselle Cormon . , 238 viii Contents. PAGE V. An Old Maid's Household 266 VI. Final Disappointment and its First Re- sult 302 VII. Other Results 333 THE GALLERY OF ANTIQUITIES, i. TWO SALONS. In one of the least important prefectures of France, in the middle of a town, at the corner of a street, stands a house ; but the names of that town and street must be withheld from the reader, who will, no doubt, in the end appreciate the motives of this wise reserve which propriety demands. A writer lays his finger on many a sore in becoming the annalist of his era. The house was called the hotel d'Esgrignon, but the name d'Esgrignon must be regarded as an alias, with no more reality than the Belval, Floricour, and Derville of comedy, or the Adalbert and Monbreuse of romance. The names of the principal characters in this Scene are also chano-ed. In short, the author has tried to produce contradictions and anachronisms in order to conceal the actual truth of the tale ; but, do what he will, that truth crops up continually, like a vine not wholly uprooted which sends out vigorous shoots in the midst of the ploughed vineyard. The hotel d'Esgrignon was the house in which lived an old noble named Charles-Marie- Victor-Ange Carol, Marquis d'Esgrignon, or des Grignons, according to 1 2 '"lie Gallery of Antiquities. old tit».e-d.e£ds. : -The commercial and bourgeois society of the town had satirically called the house a hotel (that is, a mansion), and within the last twenty years most of the inhabitants of the town had applied the term "hotel d'Esgrignon" in all seriousness to the dwelling of the marquis. The name of Carol (the brothers Thierry would have spelled it Karawl) was the glorious name of one of those powerful leaders who came down in former times from the North to conquer and feudalize the Gauls. Never did a Carol bend his head ; no, not before Commons, Kings, the Church, or Finance. Appointed in former days to defend one of the military frontiers of France (une Marche), their title of marquis meant an actual duty, an honor, and not the counterfeit of a supposed obligation. The fief of d'Esgrignon had always been theirs. True provincial nobility ; ignored for two hundred years at court, but pure of all alloy ; all powerful in the States-General, respected by the people of their region superstitiously, as the good virgin who cures the toothache is respected, — this ancient family was still preserved in the depths of its province as the blackened piles of some old Roman bridge are pre- served beneath the current of a river. For thirteen hundred years the daughters had been married without dowries, or placed in convents. The younger sons had accepted their maternal inheritances, and become soldiers or bishops, or had married wives at court. One cadet of the house of Eso'rignon was an admiral, and was made duke and peer, but he died without posterity. Never would a Marquis d'Esgrignon, the head of the elder branch, consent to accept the title of duke. The Gallery of Antiquities. 3 "I hold the Marquisate of Esgrignon on the same condition that the king holds the kingdom of France," said one of them to the Connetable de Lnynes, who to his eyes was a very small personage indeed. Yon may rely upon it, therefore, that during "the troubles" many a d'Esgrignon lost his head. The stanch blood held itself high and pure till 1789. The then Marquis d'Esgrignon did not emigrate : it was his duty to defend his " Marche ; " the respect he inspired in the people of his region saved his head from the scaffold, but the hatred of the real sans- culottes was bitter enough to have him treated as an emigre during the time he was obliged to hide in France (which he never quitted) from the storm. In the name of the sovereign people the lands of d'Esgrignon were declared confiscated and were " nationally sold," in spite of the personal appeals of the marquis, then forty }^ears of age. Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon, his sister, being still a minor, was able to save a few portions of the fief by the help of a young bailiff of the family, who asked for a division of the property and the assignment to his client of her share in the pat- rimony. Tn consequence of this appeal, the chateau and a few farms were reserved to her from the general sale made by the Republic. The faithful bailiff, Chesnel, was forced to buy in his own name, with the ready money brought to him by the marquis, certain parts of the domain to which his master clung espe- cially, such as the church, the parsonage, and the gardens of the chateau. The slow yet rapid years of the Terror having passed, the Marquis d'Esgrignon, whose character im- 4 The Gallery of Antiquities. posed the deepest respect on all the inhabitants of his neighborhood, was anxious to return to the chateau with his sister, Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon, in order to cultivate the land which his former bailiff, Chesnel, now a notary, had saved for him. But alas ! to restore the pillaged and barren chateau w T as too vast and too costly a work for an owner whose rentals had been suppressed, whose forests had been razed, and who at that time could only derive, at most, nine thousand francs a year from the remnants of his old domain. When, in the month of May, 1800, the notary brought his former master to the old feudal chateau, he could not restrain his emotion as he watched the marquis stand- ing, motionless, in the middle of the courtyard, gazing at the filled-in moat and the ancient towers now levelled to the roof. The old Frank contemplated silently the heaven above him, and then the places where his noble vanes had once adorned the gothic towers, as if to ask of God the reason for this social destruction. Chesnel alone could understand the bitter grief of his former master, now called citizen Carol. The noble d'Esgri- gnon was long silent ; he breathed-in the patrimonial odors of the atmosphere about him, and uttered with a sigh the saddest of interjections. "Chesnel," he said, "we will return here later, when the troubles are over ; but until the treaty of pacification is signed, I cannot live here, for they would forbid me to bear arms." He pointed to the chateau, turned, remounted his horse, and accompanied his sister, who had come with him in a venerable wicker carriole belonging: to the notary. In the town itself, the hotel d'Esgrignon no The Gallery of Antiquities. 5 longer existed. That noble structure had been cle- molished, and on its site were two manufactories. Maitre Chesnel employed the last sack of the marquis's louis in buying an old house with a gable, a vane, a tower, and a dormer window, where formerly the Sei- gneurial bailiwick was established, and later the Court of Justice ; the property belonging at that time to the Marquis d'Esgrignon. For five hundred louis the Na- tional Domain ceded back the old edifice to its legiti- mate owner. From that day forth it was called, partly in jest, partly in earnest, the " hotel d'Esgrignon." In 1800, several emigres returned to France, and the erasure of their names from the fatal lists was ob- tained without much difficulty. Among the nobles who first returned to the town were the Baron de Nouastre and his daughter; they were ruined. Mon- sieur d'Esgrignon generously offered them a home, where the baron died two months later, worn out with grief and anxiety. Mademoiselle de Nouastre was twenty-two } 7 ears old, and the purest blood of France flowed in her veins. Monsieur d'Esgrignon married her to continue his house ; but she died in childbirth, killed by the cleverness of a doctor, leaving happily one son. The poor old man (though the marquis was only fifty-three years of age, adversity and the bitter sorrows of his life made him seem a dozen years older), lost the joy of his declining days, — his wife, one of the sweetest of human beings, a noble woman, in whom were revived the graces, now only to be ima- gined, of the feminine figures of the sixteenth century. It was one of those terrible blows which echo through every moment of a man's succeeding life. 6 The Gallery of Antiquities. After standing for some moments before the bed, he kissed the forehead of his wife as she lay there like a saint, with her hands folded. Then he drew out his watch, broke the mainspring, and walked to the fire- place, where he hung it up. The hands marked eleven o'clock in the morning. " My sister, let us pray God that this hour be not forever fatal to our house. My uncle, the arch- bishop, was murdered at this hour ; at this hour my father died." He knelt down beside the bed and laid his head upon it. His sister did the same. Then, after a minute, both rose. Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon burst into tears, but the old marquis looked at the child, the room, and his dead wife with dry eyes. To bis Frankish stoicism he added the intrepid courage of a Christian. This happened in the second year of our present century. Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon was twenty-seven years old. She was beautiful. A parvenu purveyor to the armies of the Republic, born in the neighborhood and originally worth three thousand francs a year, per- suaded Maitre Chesnel after long resistance to speak on his behalf of a marriage with Mademoiselle d'Essrignon. The brother and sister were equally angry at such audacity, and Chesnel was in despair at having yielded to the entreaties of the Sieur du Croisier. From that day he missed in the manners and words of the Mar- quis d'Esgrignon that caressing kindliness which might have passed for friendship. The marquis thenceforth felt only gratitude toward him. This noble and genuine gratitude was a source of perpetual pain to the notary. There are sublime hearts The Gallery of Antiquities. 7 in this world to whom gratitude seems to be a burden, a payment ; they prefer the sweet equality of feel- ing given by the natural and voluntary fusion of souls. Maitre Chesnel had tasted the happiness of that honor- able and all-confiding friendship; the marquis had raised him to his own plane. To the old noble the worthy notary was less than a child and more than a servant; he was a voluntary liege-man, a serf attached by every tie of the heart to his suzerain. No reckon- ing of regard was ever made with him ; the ac- count was balanced by the continual exchange of a true affection. In the eyes of the marquis, Chesnel in his official capacity signified nothing; he was always his servitor disguised as a notary. In Chesnel's eyes the marquis belonged to a race divine. He believed in nobles ; he remembered that his father had opened the doors of salons and said, "Monsieur is served." Chesnel's devotion to this noble ruined house was less a faith than an egotism ; he considered himself as part of the family. His grief, therefore, at having dis- pleased the marquis was profound. When he ven- tured to speak of his error, the old noble replied in a grave tone of voice : — "Chesnel, you would never have allowed yourself to make so insulting a proposition before the troubles. What, then, are these new doctrines, that they should have spoiled even you ? " Maitre Chesnel possessed the confidence of the whole town ; he was deeply respected. His high honor and large fortune gave him importance ; but from this time forth he felt a decided aversion for the Sieur du Croisier. Though the notary was not rancorous, he 8 The Gallery of Antiquities. insensibly induced a goodly number of families to share bis dislike. Du Croisier, a man of hatreds, capable of brooding over a vengeance for twenty years, felt for the notary and the d'Esgrignon family one of those silent, pregnant hatreds which we meet with in the provinces. This refusal injured him in the eyes of the malicious provincials among whom he had come to spend his days, intending to rule them. It was so real a catastrophe that its effects were soon felt. Du Croisier was also refused by a certain old maid to whom he addressed himself as a pis-aller. Thus the ambitious plans he had formed failed at their outset through the refusal of Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon, whose alliance would have opened to him the salons of the faubourg Saint-Germain ; next, the second refusal so discredited him with the second society of the town that he had difficulty in maintaining himself even there. In 1805, Monsieur de la Roche-Guyon, the eldest son of one of the oldest families of the neighborhood, which was former^ allied with that of the d'Esgrignons, made a formal demand, through Maitre Chesnel, for the hand of Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon. Mademoiselle Marie-Armande-Claire d'Esgrignon refused even to listen to the notary. " You ought to be aware that I am a mother, my dear Chesnel," she said, as she rose to lay her nephew, a beautiful boy of three years of age, in his cradle. The old marquis rose to meet her as she returned, and kissed her hand respectfully. Then, seating himself again in his armchair, he found voice to say, — " You are a d'Esgrignon, my sister." The Gallery of Antiquities. 9 The noble woman trembled and wept. The father of the marquis in his old age had married the grand- daughter of a purveyor, ennobled under Louis XIV. This marriage was considered a horrible mesalliance by the family, but of less importance because a daugh- ter only was the result. Armande knew this. Though her brother was kindness itself to her, he always re- garded her as in some sense an alien ; but this speech legitimatized her. Her answer to this proposal of the Roche-Guyons was a noble crown to the noble conduct she had followed for the last eleven years ; from the day of her majority every action of her life was the outcome of the purest devotion ; her feeling for her brother was worship. " I shall die Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon," she said to the notary simply. "For you there can be no nobler title," replied Chesnel, thinking that he paid her a compliment. The poor girl colored. " You are talking nonsense, Chesnel," said the old marquis, partly flattered by his old servant's speech and grieved at the pain it caused his sister. " A d'Esgrignon can marry a Montmorency ; our blood is not as mixed as theirs. The d'Esgrignons bear or, two bendlets gules, and for nine hundred years no change has been made in our arms ; they are what they have been from the first. Hence our device, Cil est nostre, which was taken at the tourney of Philip-Augus- tus, together with the armed knight or to right, and the lion gules to left, for supporters." Emile Blondet, to whom the present writer and con- temporaneous literature are, among other things, in- debted for this history, says, in writing of it : — 10 The Gallery of Antiquities. " I cannot remember that any woman ever affected my imagination like Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon. I was, at the time I first knew her, very young, a mere child, and perhaps the image she has left in my memory owes something of its vivid tints to our childish inclination for all things marvellous. — When I saw her in the distance, coming along the Cours, where I was playing with other children, leading Victurnien, her nephew, by the hand, I felt an emotion something like that pro- duced by galvanism on dead bodies. Young as I was, I felt myself endowed with a new life. Mademoiselle's hair was of a ruddy blond tint, her cheeks were cov- ered with the finest down, with silvery reflections which I loved to see when the outline of her face was defined against the light ; and I let myself go to the fascina- tions of those dreamy emerald eyes, which seemed to cast fire when they rested on me. Sometimes I pre- tended to roll on the ground before her in play, but it was really to get nearer to her dainty feet and admire them. The soft whiteness of her skin, the delicacv of her features, the purity of the lines of her forehead, the elegance of her slender figure, took possession of me ; although I did not know it was the elegance of her figure, the beauty of her forehead, or the perfect oval of her face, that affected me. I admired her as a child of my age prays, — without knowing why. When my fixed gaze attracted her notice she would say in her melodious voice, which seemed to me to have a volume no other voice possessed, 'What are 3^011 doing there, little one? Why do you look at me in that way ? ' Then I would creep up, twisting myself and biting my nails, to answer, blushing, ' I don't know.' If, by The Gallery of Antiquities. 11 chance, she laid her white hand upon my head and asked how old I was, I would run away to a distance, and cry out, ' Eleven ! ' "When I read in the ' Arabian Nights ' of a princess or fairy, I gave her the features and bearing of Made- moiselle d'Esgrignon. When my drawing-master made me copy heads from the antique, I noticed that the hair on those heads was twisted up like that of Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon. Later, when these childish ideas departed one by one, Mademoiselle Armande — for whom men stepped aside respectfully on the Cours to let her pass, watching the undulations of her long brown dress until she was out of sight — Mademoiselle Armande remained in my memory vaguely as a sort of type. Her exquisite shape, the outlines of which, sometimes revealed by a gust of wind, I could then see in spite of the amplitude of her gown, returned into my dreams when I had grown into manhood. Later still, when I reflected gravely over the u^steries of human thought, I came to believe that my respect was inspired by the sentiments which I felt, although I did not know they were expressed, in Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon's face and demeanor. The adorable calm- ness of that head, inwardly so ardent, the dignity of her motions, the sacredness of duties fulfilled, must have touched and awed me. Children are much more open than we believe to the invisible effects of ideas : they never laugh at a person who is truly imposing ; real grace touches them ; beauty attracts them because they are themselves beautiful, and there exist mysterious ties between the things of a like nature. Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon was one of my religions. To-day my 12 The Gallery of Antiquities. wandering imagination can climb no corkscrew stair- case in some old manor without a vision in my mind's eye of Mademoiselle Armande as the Genius of Feu- dality. When I read the old chronicles, she appears to me in the form of many a famous woman, — Agnes Sorel, Marie Touchet, Gabrielle d'Estrees, — I see her clothed with all the love that lay, lost, in her heart, a love she was never to express. That celestial figure, seen through the misty visions of childhood, comes to me still amid the clouds of my dreams." Remember this portrait, faithful to the moral as to the physical being. Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon is one of the most instructive figures of this history : she will show you in what way the purest virtues, lacking intelligence, may be harmful. During the years 1804 and 1805, two-thirds of the emigrated families returned to France, and nearly all those belonging to the province of the Marquis d'Es- grignon planted themselves once more in the soil of their fathers. There were, however, a few defections. Some nobles took service under Napoleon, either in the army or at court ; others made marriages with cer- tain parvenus. All those who joined the imperial movement recovered their fortunes and their forests through the Emperor's munificence. Most of them remained in Paris ; but a few, some eight or ten noble families in all, remained faithful to the proscribed regime and to their old ideas of the fallen monarchy; among them, the Roche-Guyons, the Nouastres, the Verneuils, the Casterans, the Troisvilles, — some poor, some rich. But the possession of more or less money The Gallery of Antiquities. 13 counted for nothing ; the antiquity, the preservation of the race of nobles, was to them all ; precisely as an antiquary cares nothing for the weight of a medal in comparison with the clearness of the device and the inscription, and the antiquity of the coin. These families accepted as their leader the Marquis d'Esgrignon ; his house became their centre, their trysting-place. There the Emperor was never men- tioned except as Monsieur de Buonaparte ; there the King was Louis XVIII. , then at Mittau; there the department was still the province, and the prefecture the intendanc} T . The admirable conduct, the noble loy- alty, the intrepid courage of the Marquis d'P^sgrignon, won him the homage of all these families, just as his misfortunes, his constancy, and his unfaltering attachment to his opinions had long won him the universal respect of his own town. This noble ruin had all the majesty of a great thing destroyed. His chivalrous delicacy was so well known that in several instances he was chosen by contending parties as sole arbiter. All the well-educated partisans of the impe- rial system, and even its officers, showed as much consideration for his prejudices as respect for his personal presence. But a large portion of the new society, men who were destined under the Restoration to be called "liberals," at the head of whom was du Croisier, sneered at this aristocratic oasis, where no one was admitted unless he were noble and irreproachable. The animosity felt in this circle was all the stronger because many worthy persons, honest country squires and several members of the administration, persisted 14 The Gallery of Antiquities. in considering the salon of the Marquis d'Esgrignon as the only one in which there was good society. The prefect, the Emperor's chamberlain, made many ad- vances to be received there ; lie even sent his wife, who was a Grandlien, without him. The excluded clique revenged themselves on this faubourg Saint- Germain of the provinces by giving the nickname of " The Gallery of Antiquities" to the salon of the Marquis d'Esgrignon, whom they called Monsieur Carol ; a name to which the collector of taxes addressed his tax-bill, adding in a parenthesis {ci-devant des Gri- gnons). This old spelling of the name was intended as a petty annoyance, inasmuch as the later spelling d'Esgrignon had long prevailed. "As for me," says Emile Blondet, to whom we again refer, ' ' when I look back into my childish memories I must admit that the name ' Gallery of Antiquities ' used to make me laugh in spite of my respect, may I not say my love, for Mademoiselle Armande. " The hotel d'Esgrignon stood at the corner of two streets, so that the salon had two windows on each of these streets, which were the most frequented in the town. The Place du Marche w r as only a few hundred feet from the house. This salon was therefore like a glass case, and no one came or went about the town without casting an eye upon it. The room always seemed to me, then a little rascal twelve years old, to be a rare curiosity, such as we find later, when we reflect about it, on the confines of the real and the fanciful, without being able to decide whether they The Gallery of Antiquities. 15 were more on the one side than on the other. Formerly, in the clays when the building was used for the law courts, the salon was the court-room, and it was raised above a cellar with grated windows, where the criminals of the province were then confined ; now that cellar served as the d'Esgrignon kitchen. " I can't say whether the magnificent and lofty fireplace of the Louvre, so marvellously carved, ever caused me the same awed amazement that I felt on seeing for the first time the vast fireplace of this salon, above which was an equestrian portrait of Henri III. (under whom the province, formerly a tributary duchy, was annexed to the Crown) ; this portrait was done in relief and framed in gilding. The ceiling was of chestnut beams forming compartments, each of which were decorated with arabesques. This beautiful ceiling was once gilded along the edges of the beams, but the gilding was now scarcely visible. The walls, hung with Flem- ish tapestries, represented the judgment of Solomon in six pictures, supported by gilt th} T rses, round which sported cupids and satyrs amid vine-leaves and ivy. The marquis had had the room parquetted. " Among the relics of old chateaux sold between 1793 and 1795, the notary had picked up consoles of the period of Louis XIV., tables, a tall clock, fire- irons, and girandoles, admirably completing the grandi- ose salon, which was wholly out of keeping with the rest of the house. '•' Beneath that ancient ceiling, the glory of days now dead, sat or moved about ten or a dozen dowagers, some with shaking heads, others as withered and dark as mummies; some stiff and erect, others bent, but all 16 The Gallery of Antiquities. caparisoned in gowns more or less fantastically in opposition to the fashion ; powdered heads were there, with heavy curls, caps with bow-knots, and rusty laces. The most absurd of caricatures, the most seri- ous of paintings, could never convey the incoherent poesy of these figures, which return into my dreams and attitudinize in my memory whenever I meet with some old woman whose face and whose garments recall their characteristics. But, whether it be that misfor- tunes has taught me the secrets of other misfortunes, whether I have really come to understand the emotions of the human soul, especially the sorrows and regrets of old age, true it is that I have never since then seen, among the dying or the living, the haggard look of those gray eyes, the awful vivacity of some black ones. "No; neither Maturin nor Hoffmann — the two most terrifying imaginations of our day — could cause me the terror I used to feel at the automatic movement of those strait-laced bodies. The rougre of actors has never surprised me, for have I not seen a more invet- erate rouge? — the rouge of birth, as one of my com- rades, as satirical as myself, remarked. Through those window-panes I saw worn faces, furrowed with wrinkles till they looked like the nut-crackers carved in Germany, misshapen figures, square and prominent jaws, enormous bones, projecting hips. As these women came and went, they seemed to me less un- natural than when they sat, in mortuary immobility, playing cards. " The men of that salon wore all of the same gray and faded color as the tapestries. Their life seemed smitten The Gallery of Antiquities. 17 with indecision ; but their clothes were more in con- formity with modern fashions ; even so, however, their white hair and withered faces, their waxy skins and blasted foreheads, and the haggard pallor of their eyes gave them a resemblance to the women which effaced the difference in their clothes. " The certainty of finding these personages invariably in the same place, playing cards at tables, or seated at the same hour in the same chairs, gave, in my young eyes, something theatrical, pompous, supernatural to their appearance. Never since have I entered any of those famous museums in Paris, London, Vienna, or Munich, where we find preserved the splendors of past centuries, without peopling them with the figures I once knew in the Gallery of Antiquities. We often proposed to each other, little schoolboys that we were, to climb up for fun, and look at these rarities collected in their glass cage. But as soon as I caught sight of Mademoiselle Armande, I used to tremble. I admired, with jealous feelings, her beautiful nephew, Victurnien, in whom we all recognized a superior being to ourselves. That young fresh creature in the midst of this ceme- tery resurrected before its time struck us, I know not why, as something strange. Without, of course, being able to reason on our feelings, we were conscious of being small and bourgeois in presence of that proud court." The catastrophes of 1813 and 1814, which brought low Napoleon, gave a fresh lease of life to the Gallery of Antiquities, and offered its members a hope of re- covering their importance. But the events of 1815, the jg The Gallery of Antiquities. horrors of foreign occupation, and then the oscillations of the government, delayed until after the fall of De- cazes all fruition of the hopes of these personages so well portrayed by Blondet. Our present history does not begin, therefore, until the year 1822. In 1822, in spite of the benefits which the Restora- tion bestowed on the emigres, the fortune of the Marquis d'EsoTio-non was not increased. Of all the nobles in- jured by the revolutionary laws none was more unfairly treated. The greater part of his revenues consisted, before 1789, of demesnial rights resulting, as with several of the great families, from the tenure of fiefs which the seigneurs endeavored to cut up into small holdings to increase the proceeds of their lods et ventes, that is, dues from tenants. The families who were in this category were ruined be} 7 ond all hope of recovery ; the ordinance of Louis XVIII. restoring the unsold lands to the emigres did not help them, and, later, the law of indemnity brought them no relief. The marquis belonged to that fraction of the royal- ist party which refused to have anything to do with those whom he called, not revolutionists, but rebels ; and who were designated in parliamentary language as liberals or constitutionals. His set of royalists, nicknamed "ultras" by the opposition, had for its leaders and heroes the courageous orators of the Right, who, from the very first session of the royal council, protested, like Monsieur de Polignac, against the Charter of Louis XVIII. , regarding it as a bad edict compelled by the necessity of the moment, and from which royalty ought to retreat. The miracles of the Restoration of 1814 ; those still The Gallery of Antiquities. 19 greater, of Napoleon's return in 1815 ; the amazing second flioht of the house of Bourbon, and its immedi- ate return, — these semi-fabulous phases of contempo- raneous history came upon the marquis at the age of sixty-seven. At that age, the bravest characters of our time, less defeated than worn out by the events of the Revolution and the Empire, had, in the depths of their provinces, converted their activity into pas- sionate and immutable convictions ; they had, nearly all, withdrawn into the enervating and easy-going life of country places. As for the marquis, he asked him- self what good a man of seventy could do at court ; what office could he hold ; what service could he render? Thus the proud and noble d'Esgrignon contented him- self with the triumph of the monarchy and of religion ; he continued to be the leader of his caste in his own neighborhood, enthroned in his salon well-named the Gallery of Antiquities. Under the Restoration, that mildly sarcastic nickname grew spiteful on the lips of the bourgeoisie, when the vanquished of 1793 became once more the conquerors. But the town in which the d'Esgrignons lived was not more protected than other provincial towns from hatreds and rivalries of party spirit. Contrary to public expectation, du Croisier (all the names in this Scene we must remember are fictitious) had married the very rich old maid who had previously refused him, and this in spite of the fact that he had for rival the petted darling of the aristocracy of the neighborhood, — a certain Chevalier whose illustrious name will be suffi- ciently concealed if we designate him, in accordance with the custom of the town, by his title only ; for he was 20 The Gallery of Antiquities. there the Chevalier just as the Comte d'Artois was Monsieur at court. Not only did this marriage give rise to one of those feuds with all weapons which pre- vail in the provinces, but it also assisted in accelerating the separation between the upper and the lower aris- tocracy, between the bourgeois elements and the noble elements, united for a moment under the pressure of the great Napoleonic authority, — a sudden separation which did great harm to our country. In France, the most national thing of all is — vanity. It was the mass of wounded vanities which produced the thirst for equality. Hereafter, we may be sure, ardent in- novators will be compelled to admit that equality is a thing impossible. In the war that now ensued, courteously conducted and without gall by the Gallery of Antiquities, but pushed to extremes at the hotel du Croisier, even to the employment of the poisoned arrows of savage warfare, the advantages of mind and delicate satire were all on the side of the nobles ; and we must steadily remember one truth : the wounds made by the tongue and the eye — satire and disdain — are incurable. The Chevalier had no sooner withdrawn after his matrimonial defeat to the Sacred Mount of the aristoc- racy, abandoning the mixed companies, than he directed his wit against the salon du Croisier ; he stirred the embers of war without suspecting to what lengths the spirit of vengeance would lead the Croisier salon against the Gallery of Antiquities. None but the true and pure entered the hotel d'Esgrignon, — loyal gentlemen and gentlewomen, all sure of each other; they were guilty The Gallery of Antiquities. 21 of no indiscretions. Their talk, their ideas, just or false, noble or ridiculous, gave no opening for any attack. The liberals were forced to assail the political actions of the ultra party in default of personal grounds on which to ridicule the nobles. But this sense of in- ability increased a hundredfold in the du Croisier adherents a thirst for vengeance. In 1822, du Croisier was at the head of the indus- trial interests of the department, just as the Marquis d'Esgrignon was at the head of the nobility. Each therefore represented a party. Croisier gathered about him the magistracy and the administrative and financial officers of the department. His salon, a power at least equal to that of the Gallery of Antiquities, more numerous, more active, and younger, influenced the communitv ; whereas the other side remained tran- quilly composed within their borders. The liberals, who had never yet been able to elect one of their can- didates, counted on du Croisier's connections to give him before long a seat at the Left Centre, the nearest approach to the pure Left. The correspondents of du Croisier in Paris were the brothers Keller, three bankers, the eldest of whom shone pre-eminent among the nineteen members of the Left ; that illustrious phalanx glorified by all the liberal journals, which maintained an alliance with the Comte de Gondreville, — a constitutional peer who contrived to retain the favor of Louis XVIII. In 1822, hostilities, which had been very fierce dur- ing the first four vears of the Restoration, had lulled. The Croisier salon and the Gallery of Antiquities, after having mutually recognized their strength and their 22 The Gallery of Antiquities. weakness, were awaiting, no doubt, the results of chance, — that Providence of parties. Ordinary minds were contented with this apparent calm, which de- ceived the throne ; but those who lived on intimate terms with du Croisier knew that in him, as in all men whose life resides in their heads, the passion of ven- geance was implacable, above all, when joined to political ambition. At the moment of which we write, du Croisier, who formerly flushed or turned pale at the names of d'Es- grignon or the Chevalier, affected the silence and grav- ity of a savage. He smiled upon his enemies, all the while hating and watching them day by day more profoundly. Since the failure of his last attempt at election, he seemed to have decided to take life tran- quilly as though he despaired of victory. One of the men who understood and seconded the schemes and calculations of Croisier's cold wrath, was the chief- justice of the place, Monsieur du Ronceret, — a coun- try land-owner who had formerly aspired without success to the honor of belonging to the Gallery of Antiquities. The Gallery of Antiquities. 23 II. A BAD EDUCATION. The small fortune of the d'Esgrignons, judiciously managed by the notary Chesnel, barely sufficed to main- tain the family, for the marquis lived nobly, though without the slightest show. The tutor of Victurnien d'Esgrignon, the hope of the house, was an old Orato- rian, given by the bishop, who lived in the household, but eked out his means by other employment. The wages of a cook, a waiting-woman for Mademoiselle Armande, an old valet of the marquis, and two other servants, the food of four masters, and the costs of an education on which nothing was spared, absorbed the family revenues, in spite of the economy of Mademoi- selle Armande, in spite of Chesnel's judicious adminis- tration, and in spite, too, of the affectionate interest of the servants. The old notary was still unable to make repairs to the devastated chateau ; he awaited the ter- mination of the leases to obtain an increase of revenue, either through improved methods of agriculture or from a decline of monetary values which would bear fruit at the expiration of contracts made in 1809 . The marquis knew nothing of either the details of his household or the administration of his property. A revelation of the extreme precautions taken to " make both ends meet" at the end of the } T ear, as house- 24 The Gallery of Antiquities. keepers say, would have come like a thunderbolt upon him. Those about him, knowing him so near the close of his career, shrank from correcting his error. The grandeur of the house of Esgrignon, to which no soul at court or in the state gave a single thought, and which, beyond the gates of the town and a few localities in the department, was absolutely unknown, still existed in the eyes of the marquis and his adherents in all its former dignity. The d'Esgrignon family would soon recover its splendor to a higher degree than before, in the person of Victurnien, whenever the spoliated nobles recovered their property, or that glorious young heir appeared at court to enter the service of the king and consequently to marry, after the fashion of all d'Esgrignons, a Navarreins, a Ca- dignan, a d'Uxelles, a Beauseant, a Blamont-Chauvry, — in short, some girl uniting the distinctions of nobil- ity, wealth, beauty, wit, and character. The persons who gathered round the card-tables of the Gallery of Antiquities, such as the Chevalier, the Troisvilles (pro- nounced Treville) the La Roehe-Guyons, the Casterans (pronounced Cateran) the Due de Verneuil, — all accus- tomed to consider the great marquis as a very impor- tant personage, — encouraged him in these ideas. There was nothing false or deluded in this belief. It would have been strictly correct if the forty pre- ceding years in the history of France could have been blotted out. But claims the most honorable and conse- crated (such as Louis XVIII. endeavored to make them by dating his Charter as if in the twenty-first year of his reign) exist only when ratified by general consent. The d'Esgrignons lacked two things, — moue} 7 , that basis . The Gallery of Antiquities. 25 of our present political system, that great mainstay of modern aristocracy, and historical continuity, in other words, that continuous fame wfyich is won at courts as well as on battle-fields, in the salons of diplomacy as well as in the tribune, by help of a book as well as by brilliant deeds ; in short, the chrism with which the head of each successive o'eneration is anointed. An inactive noble family, taking no part in its generation, drops from historical annals and is forgotten. The marriage of a Demoiselle de Troisville with General Montcornet, so far from enlightening the Gallery of Antiquities, al- most caused a rupture between the Troisvilles and the d'Esgrignon salon, which declared that the Troisvilles were desradin"' themselves. Among all these people one man alone did not share such illusions. We need not say that Chesnel was that man. Though his devotion, as will be shown by this history, was absolute towards the great family, now reduced to three members, aud though he accepted most of their ideas and thought them sound, he had too much common-sense and had too long done the business of half the families of the department not to follow somewhat the spirit of the age, and recognize the great change produced by industry and modern ethics. The former bailiff saw plainly how the Revolution had passed from the destructive action of 1793, which had armed men, women, and children, erected scaf- folds, cut off heads, and won European battles, to the tranquil action of the ideas which consecrated those events. After clearing the field and sowing it, came the harvest. In his opinion the Revolution had created the spirit of the new generation ; he saw its facts in a 2G The Gallery of Antiquities. thousand wounds, and he considered them irrevocably accomplished. The fallen heads of the king and queen, the confiscated property of the nobles, formed, to his mind, engagements which bound together too many interests for those concerned to allow their results to be attacked. Chesnel saw true. His fanaticism for the d'Essriffnons was absolute but not blind, which made it the more beautiful. The faith which enables a young monk to behold the angels of paradise is far inferior to the power of the old monk who points them out to him. The notary was like the old monk : he would have given his life to preserve some worm- eaten old reliquary. Each time that he attempted to explain with much circumspection to his old master the " novelties," sometimes in terms of ridicule, sometimes affecting surprise and grief, he saw the smile of a prophet on the lips of the marquis, and in his soul the profound conviction that such follies would pass away like all the rest. No one, perhaps, has ever remarked how events did actually encourage these noble champions of a ruined past to persist in their beliefs. What could Chesnel reply when the marquis, with an imposing gesture, would sa}^, "God has swept away Buonaparte, his armies, his vassals, his thrones, and his vast concep- tions. God will deliver us from all the rest"? Chesnel could only bow his head, not daring to reply, " God will not sweep away all France." They were grand, both of them : one erecting him- self against the deluge of facts, like some old block of mossy granite resisting the torrents of an Alpine gorge ; the other observing the course of the waters The Gallery of Antiquities. 27 and thinking to utilize them. But the good and ven- erable notary shuddered as he remarked the irreparable injury these beliefs of the family were doing to the mind, the habits and morals and future ideas, of the young Victurnien. Idolized by his aunt, idolized by his father, the young heir was, in the fullest acceptation of the word, a spoiled child, who, however, appeared to justify all the paternal and maternal illusions, — we say maternal, for his aunt was truly a mother to him ; although, how- ever tender and foreseeing an unmarried woman may be, there is something, I know not what, of maternity which is lacking to her. The second-sight of a mother cannot be acquired. An aunt completely one with her nursling as Mademoiselle Armande was with Vic- turnien, may love it as much as any mother, may be as attentive, kind, delicate, and indulgent, but she will never be stern with the discretion and timeliness of the child's mother ; her heart will not be conscious of those sudden warnings, those foreboding visions of the mother, in whom, though broken, the nervous or moral ligaments by which the child once held to her still vibrate, receiving the shock of his pains, and quivering with his jo} T s as though they were the joys and pains of her own life. If nature has. physically speaking, considered woman as neutral ground, it has not forbidden her in certain cases to identif} T herself completely in its work. When moral maternity is added to natural maternity, you will see admirable phe- nomena, unexplained rather than unexplainable, which make the supremacy of mothers. This history will prove once more the well-known truth that a mother 28 The Gallery of Antiquities. can never be replaced. A mother would have foreseen evil Ions: before an unmarried woman like Made- moiselle Armande could admit it. One foresees dis- aster ; the other, at best, can only remedy it. The fictitious motherhood of a girl is, moreover, too much made up of blind adoration to allow of her repri- manding a beloved child. Practical life and long experience of business had given the old notary an observing and clear-sighted distrust of many things, which made him almost as foreboding as a mother. But he had so little power in the household, especially since the sort of disgrace he had incurred apropos of the marriage with du Croi- sier, that he had long resolved to follow blindly the doctrines of the family. A common soldier, faithful to his post and ready to die there, his advice would never have been taken, not even in the thick of the battle, — unless chance had placed him as in "The Antiquary " it placed the king's mendicant on the sea- shore when the lord and his daughter were caught by the tide. Du Croisier, ever on the watch to harm his enemies, saw the possibility of vengeance in the mistaken edu- cation given to the young nobleman. He hoped, to use the expression of the writer we have already quoted, to seethe the kid in its mother's milk. This hope was at the bottom of his silent resignation, and it kept upon his lips the smile of a savage. The dogma of his supremacy was therefore incul- cated on Comte Victurnien as soon as any idea at all could be put into his brain. Except the king, all the greatest seigneurs in the kingdom were his equals. The Gallery of Antiquities. 29 Below the nobility he had none but inferiors, — persons with whom he had nothing in common, towards whom he had no obligations whatever ; a subjected race of whom he was bound to take no account, whose opinions were absolutely without interest for a noble, but who, one and all, owed him respect. These opinions Victurnien unfortunately pushed to ex- tremes, induced thereto by the rigorous logic which leads young persons to the highest pitch of good or evil. He was also confirmed in these beliefs by his great external advantages. Of medium height and well-made, he was slender, even delicate in appearance, though muscular. He had the blue and sparkling eyes of the d'Esgrignons, their curved and beautifully modelled lips, the perfect oval of their faces, their auburn hair, their white skins, their elegant carriage, their graceful extremities, — small feet, taper fingers, and great distinction in the wrists and ankles, where free and perfect lines are as much a sisfn of race in man as in horses. Dexterous and aaile in all exercises of the body, he fenced like a Saint- George, was a good shot with pistols, and rode a horse like a paladin. He flattered all the vanities that parents can attach to the externals of their chil- dren, which are founded, undoubtedly, on a true idea; namely, the excessive influence of beauty. A priv- ilege like that of nobility itself, beauty cannot be acquired : it is ever} 7 where recognized, and is often worth more than fortune or talent ; at times it has only to show itself in order to triumph ; all that we require of it is to be. Besides these two great privileges, nobility and 30 The Gallery of Antiquities. beauty, chance had given Victurnien d'Esgrignon a lively mind, a marvellous aptitude for comprehension, and a fine memory. His education, so far as instruc- tion went, was admirable. He knew far more than most of the young provincial nobles, who make good hunters, smokers, and excellent land-owners, but re- gard cavalierly enough the arts and sciences, letters and poes} 7 , — talents superior to their own, which affront them. These gifts of nature and of education ought to have sufficed to bring the Marquis d'Esgrignon's ambition to a triumphant realization at a coming time. He saw his son a marshal of France if Victurnien wished to be a soldier, an ambassador if diplomacy tempted him, a minister if he entered the administra- tion, — in short, all tilings in the State belonged to him. Moreover, and this thought gratified the father's pride, if the count had not been a d'Esgrignon, he could have risen to any height on his own merits. This happy childhood, this golden adolescence, had never met with the faintest opposition to any of its wishes. Victurnien was sovereign lord and ruler of the house. No one dreamed of checking the will of the little prince, who became naturally as egotistical as a prince, self-willed as the most fiery cardinal of the middle ages, impertinent and audacious, — vices which everybody glorified as evidence of the essential quali- ties of a noble. The Chevalier was a man of the good old times when mousquetaires made havoc in the theatres of Paris, thrashed the watch, fought the sheriff, and played a thousand boyish tricks, obtaining a smile from the king, provided the pranks were droll. This charming The Gallery of Antiquities. 31 old seducer, former hero of ruelles, contributed a good deal to the fatal termination of this history. The amiable old gentleman, -who found no one able to understand him, was well pleased to meet with this fine specimen of an embryo Faublas to remind him of his youth. Without appreciating, or even understand- ing the difference of periods, he put the principles of the dissipated encyclopedists into the young lad's soul; he told him anecdotes of the reign of Louis XV., glori- fying the manners and customs of 17.10, recounting the orgies in " little houses," the follies committed for courtesans, and the excellent tricks played upon creditors, — in short, the whole system of morals and ethics which supplied the comedies of Dancourt and the epigrams of Beaumarchais. Unfortunately, this corruption, concealed by external elegance, was adorned with Voltairian wit. If the Chevalier was conscious of occasionally going too far, he added, by way of corrective, a homily on the laws of good society, which, he said, a true gentleman should always obey. Victurnien understood nothing of all these discourses except that which ministered to his passions. He saw his father laughing with the Cheva- lier. The two old gentlemen considered the inborn pride of a d'Esgrignon barrier enough against all unbecoming conduct ; and no member of the Gallery of Antiquities would have supposed it possible that a d'Esgrignon could do anything contrary to honor. Honor, that great monarchical principle, planted in the hearts of this family like a pharos, instigated the smallest action, animated the slightest thought, of the d'Esgrignons. The following noble precept was sufficient in itself to o 2 The Gallery of Antiquities. establish a nobility: "A d'Esgrignon cannot allow himself to do such or such a thing ; he bears a name which pledges him to be in keeping with the past." That was the burden of the song with which the marquis, Mademoiselle Armande, Chesnel, and all the frequenters of the house had rocked the cradle of Victurnien's childhood. Good and evil were face to face with equal forces in that young soul. When, at eighteen years of age, Victurnien first appeared in the society of the town, he noticed some slight differences between the exterior world and the interior world of the hotel d'Esgrignon, but he did not search for causes. The causes were in Paris. He did not yet know that the persona so bold in thought and speecli in his father's house at night were very circumspect in presence of enemies with whom their interests required them to keep on good terms. His father had conquered the right to plain speaking. No one dreamed of contradicting the old man of seventy ; besides, everybody willingly forgave one so cruelly despoiled for his fidelity to the ancient order of things. Deceived by appearances, Victurnien behaved in a manner to put the whole bourgeoisie of the town against him. He got into quarrels in the hunting-field, which his natural impetuosity pushed too far, and these quarrels sometimes ended in threatened law-suits bought off by Chesnel at the cost of money, — incidents which no one ever dared to tell his father. Fancy the amazement of the Marquis d'Esgrignon if he had heard that his son was sued for having hunted over his estates, his domains, his forests, under the reign of a son of Saint-Louis! As Chesnel remarked, peo- The Gallery of Antiquities. 33 pie feared the results of telling him such miserable things. The young count also got into other scrapes, — love- affairs, which the Chevalier endeavored to settle, but which finally cost Chesnel secret dowries paid to girls seduced under promise of marriage ; and other mis- demeanors called in the Code " perversions of minors," which, owing to the brutality of modern justice, would have led the young count Heaven knows where but for the prudent intervention of Chesnel. Such victories over bourgeois laws emboldened Vic- turnien. Accustomed to get safely out of his many pranks, he refrained from nothing that he thought amusing. He regarded courts of justice as scarecrows for the common people, which had nothing to do with him. What he blamed in plebeians, he considered the proper amusements of a man of his station. This conduct, together with the young count's nature and his inclination to despise the new laws and obey none but the precepts of the code noble, were studied, analyzed, and even tested by certain clever individuals of the Croisier party. These persons supported each other in making the body of the townspeople believe that a return to the old order of things in all its former meanings was at the bottom of the present ministerial policy. What luck for them to have this semi-proof of their assertions ! The chief-justice of the town, Mon- sieur du Ronceret, lent himself to these ideas so far as they were compatible with his magisterial office ; and so did the procureur-du-roi. They went beyond that limit occasionally by favoring Victurnien, and thus giv- ing ground for a liberal outcry. Du Ronceret excited 3 34 The Gallery of Antiquities. the popular feeling against the d'Esgrignon family by seeming to serve it. Du Croisier himself hoped to reduce that family to poverty, to see their lands sold at auction, and the old chateau demolished as the result of their sacrifices for the foolish youth, whose excesses must sooner or later involve them. He did not go farther than that ; he did not believe, as du Ronceret predicted, that Victurnien would ever really put himself within reach of the law. The vengeance of these men was well seconded by Victurnien's extreme self-conceit and by his love for pleasure. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty he cost the poor notary nearly eighty thousand francs, with- out the knowledge of either Mademoiselle Armande or the marquis. The hushed-up suits cost the half of this sum, and the extravagance of the young count con- sumed the rest. Of the marquis's ten thousand francs a year, five thousand were required for the costs of the household; the personal expenses of Mademoiselle Armande (in spite of her close economy) and those of the marquis employed two thousand more ; so that the allowance of the glorious heir-presumptive could not exceed another two thousand. And what could two thousand francs a year do towards making a proper appearance in the world ? Dress alone took the whole of it. Victurnien sent to Paris for his linen, his clothes, gloves, perfumes, etc. He wanted a riding-horse and a tilbury and a tilbury-horse. Du Croisier had a fine English horse and a tilbury ; ought the nobility to allow themselves to be crushed by the bourgeoisie? After that, the count wanted a groom in the family livery. Flattered by setting the fashion to the town, The Gallery of Antiquities. 35 the department, and the youth of the neighborhood, he was fairly launched into the world of fancies and luxury which seem so appropriate to handsome and clever young men. Chesnel supplied the money ; not, however, without using, as did the former parlia- ments, the right of remonstrance, though with angelic mildness. ' ' What a pity such a good old fellow should be so tiresome ! " thought Victurnien each time that the notary applied both money and warning to an open wound. A widower without children, Chesnel had adopted the son of his former master in the very depths of his heart. He enjoyed seeing him drive through the chief street of the town, perched on the double cushion of his tilbury, whip in hand, a rose in his button-hole, handsome, well-dressed, and the envy of all. When, in some pressing need, a loss at cards at the Trois- villes, the Due de Verneuil's, the Prefecture, or else- where, Victurnien would come with a calm voice, an anxious eye, and a coaxing gesture to his providence, — the old notary in his modest house in the rue du Bercail, — the battle was won as soon as he showed himself. "Well, what is it, Monsieur le comte? What has happened now?" the good man would say in a troubled voice. On these occasions Victurnien sat down, assumed a reflective and melancholy air and let himself be ques- tioned, affecting much compunction. After causing the greatest anxiety to the worthy notai^, who was beo-innino; to fear the results of such continued dissipa- tion, he would confess some small peccadillo which 36 The Gallery of Antiquities. could easily be settled for a thousand francs. Ches- nel, besides his practice, possessed about twelve thousand francs a year. These funds were not inex- haustible. The eighty thousand squandered by Victur- nien were his savings which he had been laying by against the time when the marquis should send his son to Paris, or money were needed to facilitate some fine marriage for the lad. Clear-sighted enough when Victurnien was not by, Chesnel was losing, one by one, the fond illusions which the marquis and his sister cherished. Recognizing in the lad a total lack of the sense of proper conduct, he was anxious to marry him to some girl of his own rank who was virtuous and prudent. He asked himself how a young man could think so well and act so ill, when he saw him, on the morrow of some appeal, doing the contrary of what he had promised the night before. There is no good to be expected from young fellows who confess their faults, repent them, and renew them. Men of fine characters confess their faults to them- selves, and punish themselves for them. As for weak men, they fall back into the old track, finding the edge of it too troublesome to skirt. Victurnien, in whom his guardians had unconsciously — together with his habits and his companions — relaxed the springs of inward pride, had suddenly fallen into the weakness of the voluptuary at the moment of his life when, in order to develop his forces, he had need of that regime of oppositions and privations which formed such men as Prince Eugene, Frederick the Great, and Napoleon. Chesnel saw in Victurnien that unconquerable passion for enjoyment which seems the birthmark of men who The Gallery of Antiquities. 37 are gifted with great talents, and who feel the necessity of counter-balancing the exhausting exercise of them by the compensations of pleasure, — a passion which leads to perdition if those talents are used only for sensual enjoyments. The good notary was at times terrified ; but at other times the brilliant wit and the well-informed mind which made the young man so remarkable reassured him. He said to himself what the marquis said when the rumor of some escapade reached his ears, " Youth must have its day." When Chesnel complained to the Chevalier of the young count's propensity to run in debt, the Chevalier would listen as he gathered a pinch of snuff, and say with a scoffing air : — "Explain to me the public debt, my dear Chesnel. Hey, the deuce ! if France has debts, why should n't Victurnien have them? To-day, as in the olden time, princes have debts, all gentlemen have debts. Do you expect Victurnien to bring you savings? Don't you know wiiat w r as said by our great Richelieu — not the cardinal, that wretch who throttled the nobility, but the marshal — when his grandson, the Prince de Chinon, the last of the Richelieus, showed him his purse and told him he did not spend his pocket- money at college ? " " No, Monsieur le Chevalier." "Well, he threw the purse out of the window to a street sweeper and said to his grandson, ' So they don't teach you to be a prince ! ' " Chesnel bowed his head without a word. But that night before he went to sleep, the old man reflected that such doctrines must prove fatal in an age when 38 The Gallery of Antiquities. the police existed for high and low, and he saw the seeds of the ruin of the house of Essjrtenon. Without these explanations, which picture one whole side of the history of provincial life during the Empire and the Restoration, it would be difficult to understand the scene with which the present narrative opens. The Gallery of Antiquities. 39 III. PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY TO COURT. One evening toward the end of October, in the year 1822, the customary scene was taking place in the Gallery of Antiquities. Play was over ; and the usual noblemen, the old couutesses, and the simple baronesses were paying their debts and pocketing their winnings. The old marquis was walking up and down the room, while Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon went about extin- guishing the wax candles on the card-tables. The marquis was not alone; the Chevalier accompanied him. These two relics of a preceding age were talking of Victurnien. The Chevalier had been charged to make suggestions on the young man's behalf to the marquis. " Yes, marquis," said the Chevalier, " your son is wasting his youth and his time in this place. You ought to send him to court." 14 1 have always thought that if my great age for- bade my going to court, where — between ourselves be it said — I don't know how I could bear seeing what goes on among the new class of people whom the king receives, I should send my son to present my homage to his Majesty. The king ought to give something to the count, — a regiment perhaps, or an office in his household ; put him in the way, in short, to win his 40 The Gallery of Antiquities. spurs. My uncle, the archbishop, suffered a cruel martyrdom ; I myself fought through the troubles, not deserting the camp like those who thought it their duty to follow the prince. As I looked at it, the king was still in France, and his nobility ought to fight for him there. Well, he has never so far thought of us, whereas Henri IV. would have written at once to the d'Esgrignons, ' Come, friends ! we have won our cause.' We are something more than the Troisvilles, as you know ; but two Troisvilles are made peers of France, another is deputy from the nobility " (the mar- quis mistook the electoral colleges for assemblies of his own caste). " Ah ! truly, they think no more about us than if we did not exist. I have been awaiting the visit the princes were to make here ; but if the princes do not come to us, we must go to them." " I am delighted to hear you mean to send our dear Victurnien into the great world," said the Chevalier, adroitly. " This town is a mere hole where his talents ought not to be buried. Whom could he ever find here but some silly Norman girl, half-educated, if rich? What could he make of her, — his wife? Good God ! " " I hope that he will not marry until he obtains some fine appointment from the State or the Crown," said the marquis. " But there are difficulties." Here are the difficulties, the only difficulties, which the marquis could perceive at the opening of his son's career. u My son," he resumed, after a pause which was marked by a sigh, " the Comte d'Esgrignon, cannot present himself at court barefooted ; we must equip him. Alas ! we have no longer, as w T e once had, a The Gallery of Antiquities. 41 retinue of squires. Ah, Chevalier, this destruction from top to bottom came from the first blow of the hammer of Monsieur de Mirabeau. To-day the one thing needful is money, — that is all that I can see clearly in the benefits of the Restoration. The king does not ask if you are a descendant of the Valois or whether I belong to the Conquerors of Gaul, he asks if we pay a thousand a year in taxes. I could not send the count to court without some fifty or sixty thousand francs." " Yes, with that little sum he can present himself gallantly," said the Chevalier. " Well," said Mademoiselle Armande, " I have asked Chesnel to come here to-night. Would you believe it, Chevalier, that since the day when Chesnel proposed to me to marry that miserable du Croisier — " " Ah ! that was a most improper thing to do, made- moiselle," cried the Chevalier. " Unpardonable," said the marquis. " Well, since that day," continued Mademoiselle Armande, "my brother has never been willing to ask the smallest service of Chesnel." "Your old servant!" exclaimed the Chevalier. "Ah, marquis, you would do Chesnel an honor, — an honor for which he would be grateful to the end of his days." " No," said the marquis ; " I do not think it right." "Right!" cried the Chevalier, slightly shrugging his shoulders ; " why, it is necessary ! " " Never ! " said the marquis, replying with a gesture which decided the Chevalier to risk a great stroke in order to enlighten the old man. 42 The Gallery of Antiquities. "Well, if you don't know it, I shall have to tell you," he said; "Chesnel has already given a good deal to your son, something like — " "My son is incapable of receiving any sum, no matter what, from Chesnel," cried the old man, drawing himself up and interrupting the Chevalier; "he may have asked you — you — for a few louis." " — something like a hundred thousand francs, "con- tinued the Chevalier. " The Comte d'Esgrignon owes one hundred thou- sand francs to a Chesnel ! " said the old man, in a tone of the deepest sorrow. "Ah! if he were not an only son, he should start to-night for the Isles with a cap- tain's commission. Owe to usurers whom you pay with heavy interest if you will ! but Chesnel, a man to whom we are attached — " "Yes, our dear Victurnien has run through a hun- dred thousand francs, marquis," resumed the Chevalier, shaking off some grains of snuff which had fallen on his waistcoat ; " that 's not much, I know ; at his age, I — But never mind our reminiscences, marquis. The count is in the provinces now ; but put him in the great world, and he '11 go far. I see in him the dissipa- tions of men who do great things in the world — ' : "He sleeps under this roof and has never said one word to his father ! " cried the marquis. " He sleeps with the innocence of a child who has only broken the hearts of two or three little bour- geoises and who now wants duchesses," responded the Chevalier. " But he deserves a lettre de cachet!" " They have suppressed lettres de cachet," said the The Gallery of Antiquities. 43 Chevalier, contemptuously; "and you know how the liberals shrieked when we wanted a special court of justice. We could n't even keep the provost courts which Monsieur de Buonaparte called ' Military Commissions.' " " Then what are we to do when our sons are foolish or turn out worthless, if we can't so much as lock them up? " demanded the marquis. The Chevalier looked at the father in distress and dared not answer with the truth, " AVe shall be forced to bring them up well." " And you never told me all this, Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon," said the marquis, turning to Armando. These words denoted irritation ; he usually said " my sister," and only called her Mademoiselle d'Es- grignon when much disturbed. "But, monsieur, when a lively and clever young man is idle in a town like this, what can you expect? " said Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon, who did not understand her brother's anger. "Hey! the deuce! debts, of course," put in the Chevalier. "He plays, he has his little adventures, he hunts ; and such things are horribly expensive in these da} T s." "I see," said the marquis, " that it is high time to send him to the king. I will spend to-morrow morn- ing in writing to our relations." " I know the Dues de Navarreins, de Lenoncourt, de Maufrigneuse, de Chaulieu," said the Chevalier, who, nevertheless, was well aware that they had for- gotten him. "My dear Chevalier, there is no need of that in 44 The Gallery of Antiquities. order to present a d'Esgrignon at court," said the marquis, interrupting him. " A hundred thousand francs ! Chesnel is very bold. See the result of those cursed troubles, — a Monsieur Chesnel protects my son ! and I must ask him — No ! sister, you must manage this affair. Chesnel is to take security on all our prop- erty for the whole sum ; and you must lecture that heedless boy, or he will end in ruin." The Chevalier and Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon thought these words quite simple and natural, comical as they may seem to others. They were deeply moved by the almost sorrowful expression of the old man's face. For a moment Monsieur d'Esgrignon felt the weight of some sinister foreboding ; in that instant he almost divined his epoch. He sat down upon a sofa beside the fire, forgetting Chesnel, who was coming, and from whom he desired to ask nothing. The Marquis d'Esgrignon, as he sat there, presented the outward appearance that all poetic imaginations would desire for him. His nearly bald head still re- tained a fringe of silky white hair, which fell in long flat locks curled at their extremities. His fine brow, nobly dignified, — the brow we admire in Louis XV., Beaumarchais, and the Marechal de Richelieu, — was of a graceful convex shape, delicately modelled, with smooth and polished temples. His brilliant eyes flashed with a courage and fire that age had never quenched. He had the nose of the Condes, and the amiable mouth of the Bourbons, from which, as the Comte d'Artois was wont to say, none but witty or kindly words ever issued. His neck was held in a cravat like those of marquises whose portraits we see in the engravings The Gallery of Antiquities. 45 of the last century, like those of Saint-Preux, Lovelace, and the heroes of the bourgeois Diderot, and those of the elegant Montesquieu, as seen in the earliest edition of their works. The marquis always wore a large white waistcoat embroidered in gold, on which shone the ribbon of a commander of Saint-Louis, a blue coat with broad tails, the lapels turned back and marked with a fleur- de-lis, — a curious fashion adopted by the king, — but he never abandoned French breeches, nor white silk stockings and shoe-buckles ; by six o'clock in the even- ing he was always to be seen in full dress. He read nothing but the " Quotidienne " and the " Gazette de France," — two journals which the constitutional news- papers accused of obscurantism and other monar- chical and religious enormities, while the marquis him- self thought them full of heresies and revolutionary ideas. However exaggerated may be the organs of any opinion, they are always below the requirements of the ultras of their party ; just as the painter of this noble personage will certainly be taxed with having exaggerated the truth, whereas he has really softened some salient points and reduced some fiery features in his model. The Marquis d'Esgrignon now sat with his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. During all the time that he thus meditated, Mademoiselle Armande and the Chevalier looked at each other without com- municating their ideas. Did the marquis suffer at the thought of owing the future of his son to his former bailiff? Did he doubt the welcome his son might receive from the king? Did he regret having failed 46 The Gallery of Antiquities. to prepare for the young man's appearance in the brilliant society of the court by remaining in the depths of his province, where poverty had kept him ? Alas ! how could he have done otherwise ? He sighed heavily as he raised his head. That sigh was like many others given at that time by the true and loyal aristocracy, the provincial noblemen, now so neglected, as were all those who had seized their swords and fought for the royal cause on the soil of France. " What have they done for the Montaurans, the du Guenics, the Fontaines, the Bauvans, who never sub- mitted? " he murmured to himself in a low voice. u To those who fought the bravest they have flung a miser- able pension or some lieutenancy of the king in a fortress, on the frontier." Evidently the marquis was beginning to doubt royalty. Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon had said a few words to reassure her brother on Victurnien's prospects, when a step on the pavement of the street beneath the windows announced the coming of Chesnel, and the notary soon appeared. Josephin, the old valet, opened the door and ushered him in without a word. 4 ' Chesnel, my lad — " The notary was sixty-nine years old, with a bald head, a venerable face, and breeches of an amplitude which deserved one of Sterne's descriptive epics ; he wore ribbed stockings, shoes with silver buckles, a coat like a chasuble, and a very large waistcoat. " — you have been very rash in lending money to Comte d'Esgrignon. You deserve that I should return it to you instantly and never see you again, for you have given wings to his vices." The Gallery of Antiquities. 47 Silence followed, as at court when the king reprimands a courtier. The old notary maintained a humble and contrite attitude. u Chesnel," continued the marquis, kindly, "I am uneasy about the boy. I want to send him to Paris to serve the king. Make some arrangement with my sister to enable him to go there in a suitable manner, and then you and I will settle our accounts." The marquis withdrew gravely, nodding to Chesnel in a familiar way. "I thank Monsieur le marquis for all his kindness," said the old man, who remained standing. Mademoiselle Armande rose to accompany her brother ; she had already rung, and the valet was at the door with lights to conduct his master to his bedroom. "Sit down, Chesnel," said the old maid, on return- ing. With feminine consideration Mademoiselle Armande was in the habit of softening the harshness of her brother's intercourse with his former bailiff, although Chesnel himself divined beneath that harshness a glorious affection. The attachment of the marquis to his old servitor was a passion like that a master feels for his dog, which leads him to fight the man who would kick the animal he regards as an integral part of his own existence, as a thing which, without being abso- lutely himself, represents him in all that is dearest to him ; namely, his sentiments. " It is high time to send Monsieur le comte away from this town, mademoiselle," said the notary, sententiously. "Yes," she replied. "Has he got into any new scrape ? " 48 The Gallery of Antiquities. " No, mademoiselle." " Then why do you blame him ? " " Mademoiselle, I do not blame him. No, I do not blame him. I am far from blaming him. I will never blame him, never, — no matter what he does." The conversation dropped. The Chevalier, a being eminently comprehending, began to yawn like a man overcome with sleep. He gracefully excused himself and left the house with as much desire to sleep as he had to drown himself ; the demon of curiosity held his eyes wide open and delicately took out the cotton the Chevalier was in the habit of putting in his ears. " Well, Chesnel, is there some new anxiety? " asked Mademoiselle Armande. " Yes," replied Chesnel, "things I cannot speak of to the marquis ; he might have a fit of apoplexy." " Tell me," she said, laying her beautiful head on the back of the easy-chair and letting her arms drop to her sides, like a person who expects a death-blow and does not evade it. " Mademoiselle, Monsieur le comte, who is so clever, is nevertheless a puppet in the hands of certain men who want to wreak their vengeance through him. They hope to ruin us, to humiliate us. The judge, that Sieur du Ronceret, has, as you know, pretensions to nobility." "His father was an attorney," said Mademoiselle Armande. "I know it," said the notary. "Therefore, of course, you have never received him in your house ; neither do the Troisvilles, or the Due de Verneuil or the Marquis de Casteran ; but he is one of the pillars of the du Croisier salon. His son, Monsieur Fabien The Gallery of Antiquities. 49 da Ronceret, with whom your nephew can consort with- out compromising himself too much — for you know he must have young companions — well, that young man is leading him into all sorts of follies, — he, and two or three others on du Croisier's side. Your enemies hope to ruin you through your nephew ; they are try- ing to fling him into the mud. That s} T cophant of a du Croisier, who shams royalist, is at the bottom of all this. His poor unhappy wife knew nothing of it, or I should have known it sooner. Lately the truth has leaked out from some of Monsieur le comte's com- panions while they were drunk. These speeches have been reported to me by persons who are grieved to see so fine, so noble, so charming a young man going to perdition. At present they pity him; later, they will — I dare not — " "Despise him; say it, Chesnel," said Mademoiselle Armande, sorrowfully. " Alas! how can we prevent the good people of the town, who have nothing to do from morning till night, from talking about their neighbors' actions? Conse- quently, Monsieur le comte's losses at play are all added up. For the last two months they amount to thirty thousand francs ; and everybody of course asks where he gets the money. When anything is said before me, I call people to order. But, :.h, what good does that do? Only this morning I was saying to some of them : ' Do you suppose because the d'Esgri- gnon estates were confiscated that their other property was lost too? The young count is justified in doing what he likes ; and as long as he does n't owe you any- thing, what have you to say against it? '" 4 50 The Gallery of Antiquities. Mademoiselle Armande held out her hand, on which the notary laid a respectful kiss. " My good Chesnel ! My friend, how can we get the money to send him to Paris? Victurnien cannot appear at court without sufficient means to maintain his rank." "Mademoiselle, I have borrowed on Le Jard." "What! had you nothing left? Good God!" she cried, " how can we ever reward you? " " By accepting the hundred thousand francs which I will hold at your disposal. You understand, of course, that this loan has been made secretly, so as not to dis- credit you. To the eyes of the town I belong to the house of Esgrignon." Tears came into Mademoiselle Armande's eyes. Chesnel, seeing them, lifted a fold of her dress and kissed it. "It will be nothing," he said; "young men must sow their wild oats. Intercourse with the best salons in Paris will change the course of his ideas. Here, to speak the truth, though your old friends have the noblest hearts and are the worthiest people in the world, they are not amusing. Monsieur le comte is really forced to descend below his station if he wants diversion, and he might end in leading a low life." The next day the old travelling-carriage of the d'Esgrignons saw the light and was sent to the saddler's to be put in good condition. The young count was solemnly informed by his father after breakfast of the intentions on his behalf. He was to go to court and ask for service under the king ; on the journey he would do well to decide on his career, whether in the army or the navy, or as minister or ambassador, or in The Gallery of Antiquities. 51 the household of the king ; he had only to choose, for all careers were open to him. The king would doubt- less be pleased with the house of Esgrignon for not having previously asked favors, and be all the more ready to bestow them now on the heir of the family. Since taking to his career of folly, young d'Esgri- gnon had thought of Paris and longed for real life. As the leading question in his mind was how to leave the provinces and his father's house, he listened gravely to the allocution of his excellent parent, and refrained from remarking that the army and navy were not to be entered as they formerly were ; that in order to become a sub-lieutenant of cavalry without going through the technical schools he must have been a page in the king's service ; that the sons of the most illus- trious families entered Saint-Cyr and the Ecole Poly- technique like the sons of plebeians, after competitive examinations in which the sons of noblemen stood their chance of coming out below the sons of peasants. If he enlightened his father on these points, he might not be able to obtain the necessary funds for a stay in Paris. Victurnien therefore allowed his father and his Aunt Armande to believe that he had only to show him- self in order to drive in the king's carriage, obtain the rank the d'Esgrignons supposed to be still theirs, and consort with the great seigneurs. Grieved not to be able to give his son a suitable valet to accompany him, the marquis offered Victur- nien his old servant Josephin, a confidential man, who would take good care of the youth, watch faithfully over his interests, and of whom the poor father deprived himself for the sake of his son. 52 The Gallery of Antiquities. "Remember, my son," he said, "that you are a Carol, that your blood is pure from all contaminating alliances ; that you bear for your device, II est nostre! and that you have the right to carry your head high and to aspire to queens. Give thanks to your father for this, as I did to mine. We owe to the honor of our ancestors, sacredly preserved, the right to look all men in the face and bow the knee to none but a woman, the king, and God. That is the greatest of our privileges." The worthy Chesnel was present at the parting breakfast. He did not take part in the heraldic advice and recommendations, nor in the letters and messages to the powers of the day ; but he had spent the previous night in writing to an old friend, one of the long- established notaries of Paris, in the interest of the young man. The real and assumed paternity which Chesnel felt for Victurnien would hardly be under- stood if we omitted to give this letter, which might be compared to a discourse of Daedalus to Icarus, — for must we not go back to mythology to find comparisons worthy of this man of a past age ? My dear and estimable Sorbier, — I remember with joy that I first took arms in our honorable career in your father's office, where you were kind to me, poor little clerk that I was ! It is to those memories of our clerkly days that I address myself in asking the only service I have ever yet solicited in the course of our long friendship, chequered by so many vicissitudes and political catastrophes. This service I ask of you, my dear friend, on the The Gallery of Antiquities. 53 verge of the grave, in the name of my white hairs. Sorbier ! it does not relate to me or mine. I have lost my poor Madame Chesnel, and I have no children. Alas ! it concerns something more to me than my family, if I had one ; it concerns the only son of the Marquis d'Esgrignon, whose bailiff I had the honor to be when I left your father's office, where the mar- quis's father had placed me at his own expense, in order to give me a career. This family, which I may say nurtured me, has endured all the evils of the Rev- olution. I was able to save part of its property ; but what was that compared with its past grandeur? Sorbier, I can never express to } t ou the attachment I feel to that great house which I have seen almost engulfed in the dreadful ab} T ss of our convulsions, — proscription, confiscation, an old age without means ! How many sorrows ! Monsieur le marquis married, and his wife died in giving birth to the } T oung count ; there is nothing left really alive of that noble family but this dear and precious lad. The destinies of the house rest upon him. He has amused himself, he has incurred some debts ; for what can be done even in the provinces with a hundred louis? Yes, my friend, the great house of Esgrignon has come to that, — one hundred louis ! In this extremity, his father feels the necessity of sending him to Paris to claim the favor of the king at court. Paris is a dangerous place for youth ; it needs a strong supply of sense to live there virtuously. Besides, it would grieve me to think of that poor child deprived of the means of appearing as he ought. Do you remember the pleasure with which you shared 54 The Gallery of Antiquities, my crust when we stayed in Paris a day and night to see the " Mariage de Figaro"? — blind young ones that we were ! We were happy and poor, but a noble cannot be happy in poverty. The poverty of a noble is something against nature. Ah, Sorbier, when one has had the joy of arresting with one's own hand the fall of one of the noblest crenealoincal trees in the kingdom, it is so natural to cling to it, to love it, to fertilize it, to try to make it bud again ! You will not be surprised, will you, at the precautions I take, and the entreaty I now send you to assist by the benefit of your advice and knowledge the career in Paris of this young man ? The d'Esgrignon family have obtained the sum of one hundred thousand francs for this journey, sixty thousand of which I will remit to you. You will see the count ; there is not in all Paris a young man to be compared with him. You will be interested in him, I know, as an only son. And I feel certain that Madame Sorbier will assist you in the moral guardianship with which I seek to invest you. The allowance of Comte Victurnien is fixed at two thousand francs a month ; but you must begin by giving him ten thousand to meet his first ex- penses. The family have thus provided for a two years' stay, unless some foreign journey should be desirable, in which case we will take other measures. My dear friend, undertake this office, I beg of you. Hold the purse-strings rather tightly. Without ad- monishing Monsieur le comte, restrain him as much as you can ; and do not let him anticipate his allowance from month to month without strong reasons, — of course it would not do to humiliate him in any case where his honor might be involved. The Gallery of Antiquities. 55 Watch bis proceedings, find out what he does, and where he goes ; above all, discover his relations with women. Monsieur le Chevalier de tells me that women of the court will often make a man spend more money than a ballet-girl. Obtain information on this point, and let me know it. Madame Sorbier might, if you are too busy, discover what the young man does, and where he goes. Perhaps the idea of being the guardian angel of so noble and charming a youth may please her. God would reward her for fulfilling so saintly a mission ; it may touch her heart to think of the dangers our dear young count will run in Paris. You will see him ; he is as handsome as the day, as gay as he is confiding. Should he connect himself with some evil-minded woman, Madame Sorbier might warn him of the danger he incurs even better than } t ou could do. An old servant goes with him who can tell you many things. Question Josephin ; I have told him to consult you in all delicate emergencies. But why say more? You and I have been clerks and scamps together ; remember our many escapades, and return, my old friend, to the days of our youth for the sake of this young man. The sixty thousand francs will be remitted to you in a treasury note by a gentleman of this town, who is about to go to Paris. Etc., etc. If the worthy Sorbiers had followed Chesnel's in- structions, they would have been obliged to keep three spies night and daj^ to watch Comte d'Esgrignon. Yet the choice made by Chesnel of the hands in which to deposit the money was a wise one. A banker, of 56 The Gallery of Antiquities. course, pays out the money in his hands (as long as there is any) to whoever keeps an account at the bank ; whereas the young count when he needed funds would be forced to go to the notary, who had the right to withhold the money and also to remonstrate. Victurnien could scarcely restrain his joy on hearing that he was to have two thousand francs a month. He knew nothing of Paris, and supposed that sum would enable him to live like princes. The Gallery of Antiquities. 57 IV. victurnien's dlbut. The young count started, followed by the prayers and benedictions of the Gallery of Antiquities, having been embraced by the dowagers, loaded with good wishes, and accompanied beyond the town by his old father, his aunt, and Chesnel, all three with tears in their eyes. This sudden departure formed the one topic of discourse for several evenings in the various societies of the town, but more especially in the inimi- cal salon of du Croisier. Having sworn the destruc- tion of the d'Esgrignon family, the purveyor and the chief-justice and their adherents saw their prey slipping through their fingers. Their vengeance had clung to a hope founded on the vices of the young spendthrift, who was now beyond their reach. A natural tendency of the human mind, which some- times makes a depraved woman of the daughter of a devote, and a devote of the daughter of an unworthy mother, the law of contraries, — which is no doubt the resultant of the law of similars, — drew Victurnien toward Paris by a desire to which, sooner or later, he would surely have succumbed. Brought up in a pro- vincial home, surrounded by gentle, tranquil faces that smiled upon him, by servants gravely affectionate to their masters, all in keeping with the antique tones of 58 The G-allery of Antiquities. that old dwelling, the lad had seen none but persons worthy of respect and veneration. Except the worldly old Chevalier, all those who surrounded him were com- posed in manner, and their talk was decent and becom- ing. He had been petted by those women in gray gowns and silk mittens that Blondet has described to us. The interior of his father's house was decorated with an old-fashioned luxury which inspired no lavish de- sires. Taught by an excellent abbe who was free from cant and full of that amenity of old men of a past age who bring into ours the dried rose-leaves of their experience and the pressed flowers of the customs of their own youth, Victurnien, whom every influence should have trained to serious habits, whom all things urged to continue the glory of an historic house by taking life as a grand and noble thing, — Victurnien listened to none but the most dangerous notions. He saw in his nobility simply a stepping-stone made to raise him above his fellows. Tapping that idol so worshipped in his paternal home, he found it hollow. He had become, young as he was, that most horrible of social beings and the commonest to be met with, a consistent egotist. Led bv the aristocratic religion of the / to follow his fancies, indulged by those who had charge of his childhood and by the first companions of his youthful follies, he had come by this time to estimate all things solely by the pleasure that they gave him, and to see kind souls repairing his misdeeds, — a dangerous compliance which was certain to injure him. His education, though excellent and pious, had the defect of keeping him too isolated, of hiding from his knowledge the spirit and ways of the life of his epoch, The Gallery of Antiquities. 59 — which were certainty not those of a provincial town, above which his true destiny led him. He had con- tracted the habit of not estimating a fact at its broad social value, but by its relative value to himself ; he thought his actions good according to their personal utility. Like other despots, he made his laws to suit his circumstances, — a system which is to vicious actions what fancy is to works of art, a perpetual cause of irregularities. Gifted with a very piercing and rapid perception, he saw clearly and justly, but he acted hastily and ill. There was something incomplete about Victurnien which cannot be explained, but is often met with in young men, — something which affected his conduct. In spite of his active powers of thought, so sudden in its manifestations, let sensation speak, and the darkened brain seemed no longer to exist. He was capable of surprising a wise man, and equally capable of pleasing a fool. His desire, like the rising of a tiny storm-cloud, overspread in a moment the clear and lucid spaces of his brain ; then, after periods of dissipation against which he felt himself powerless, he would drop into such depressions of mind and heart and body, such utter prostrations, as to be for the time being semi- imbecile. Such a nature must inevitably lead a man into the mire if he is left to himself ; or it will take him to the summits of life and power if he is supported by the hand of a pitiless friend. Neither Chesnel, nor the father, nor the aunt had ever fathomed that soul, which held by several of its corners to greatness and poesy, but was cursed with a truly awful weakness at its centre. 60 The Gallery of Antiquities. When Victurnien had driven a few leagues from his native town, he ceased to feel any regrets over the parting ; he thought no more of his old father, who cherished him as the darling of ten generations, or of his aunt, whose devotion was almost insanity. He longed for Paris with passionate violence ; it was the fairyland of his dreams, the scene of his most glorious visions. He expected to reign there as he reigned in his native town and in the department, through the name of his father. Filled, not with pride, but with vanity, his expectations of enjoyment grew to the pro- portions of the great city. He crossed the intervening distance rapidly. His carriage, like his thought, made no delay in its transition between the limited horizon of his province and the vast unbounded world of the capital. The count took up his quarters in the rue cle Richelieu, in a fine hotel near the boulevard, and hastened to take possession of Paris as a famished horse rushes to grass. He soon distinguished the difference between the two regions. Surprised more than intimidated, he recog- nized, with the natural quickness of his mind, how little of a person he was in the midst of that vast Babylonian world, and how foolish he should be to put himself in opposition to the ideas and ways of the new S3 7 stem. One fact was enough to convince him : — On his first evening in Paris, he took his father's letter to the Due de Lenoncourt, one of the seigneurs most in favor with the king. He found him in his magnificent hotel, in the midst of aristocratic splendor; but the next day he met him on the boulevard, on foot, with an umbrella under his arm, and no distinctive sign The Gallery of Antiquities. 61 of rank, not even the blue ribbon, which in former days a chevalier of the orders would never have laid aside. This duke and peer, first gentleman of the Bedchamber, had not been able to restrain a smile, notwithstanding his lofty politeness, on reading the letter of his relation the marquis. That smile in- formed Victurnien that there was more than sixty leagues between the Gallery of Antiquities and the Tuileries, — a distance, in fact, of several centuries. At each epoch the throne and the court surround themselves with favorite families who bear no resem- blance in name or character to those of other reigns. In that sphere it seems as though it were the condition and not the individual which is perpetuated. If his- tory were not at hand to prove this observation, it would be incredible. The court of Louis XVIII. was at this time bringing into relief men who were almost strangers to those who surrounded Louis XV. ; take, for instance, such names as Riviere, Blacas, Avaray, Dam bray, Vaublanc, Vitrolles, d'Autichamp, Laroche- jaquelin, Pasquier, Decazes, Laine, de Villele, La Bourdon naye, etc. If you compare the court of Henri IV. with that of Louis XIV., you will not find six great families holding over. Villeroy, the favorite of Louis XIV., was the grandson of a secretary who came to the surface under Charles IX. Richelieu's nephew was of almost no account. The d'Esgrignons, quasi- princes under the Valois, and all-powerful under Henri IV., had no chance at all at the court of Louis XVIII. , who did not even think of them. To-day, names as illustrious as those of sovereign houses, like that of Foix-Grailly and Herouville, are, for want of money 62 The Gallery of Antiquities. (the only power in our time), in an obscurity equiva- lent to extinction. As soon as Victurnien bad formed his opinion of this new society, — and he judged it only from the so- cial point of view, — feeling himself injured by Parisian equality, a monster which devoured under the Restora- tion the last morsel of the old social order, he re- solved to win a position with the dangerous, though blunted weapons which the present age allowed to the nobility. He imitated the habits and ways of those to whom Paris accorded its costly attention ; he felt the necessity, in default of the prestige of name, to acquire the prestige of display ; he wanted horses, fine carriages, all the accessories of modern luxury. As de Marsay, the first dandy to whom he was intro- duced, told him, he felt he must " put himself on the level of his times." Unhappily for him, he fell into the ranks of Parisian men of the world, such as de Marsay, Ronquerolles, Maxime de Trailles, Lupeaulx, Rastignac, Vandenesse, Adjuda-Pinto, Beaudenord, La Roche-Hugon, Maner- ville, — all men whom he found at the houses of the Marquise d'Espard and de Listomere, the Duchesse de Grandlieu, de Carigliano, de Chaulieu, Madame Fir- miani, the Comtesse de Serizy, at the Opera, at the embassies ; in short, wherever his name and his apparent wealth made him welcome. In Paris a noble name recognized by the faubourg Saint-Germain (which knows its provinces by heart) is a passport that opens doors which will not turn upon their hinges for strangers, or members of a secondary society. Victur- nien found his relations and those to whom his father The Gallery of Antiquities. 63 recommended him extremely amiable and friendly as soon as they saw that he did not solicit favors. He had seen at once with his quick observation that the way to obtain nothing was to ask for something. Pride, vanity, self-esteem, all the good as well as the evil sentiments of the young man, led him to assume an independent attitude. The Dues de Verneuil, d'He- rouville, Lenoncourt, Chaulieu, Grandlieu, and the Princes de Cadignan and Blamont-Chauvry were all ready, the moment they found he made no claims, to present to the king this handsome relic of an ancient family. Victurnien went to the Tuileries in a handsome equi- page with the arms of his family on its panels ; but his presentation proved to him immediately that the people occupied the mind of the king to the exclusion of the nobility. He suddenly divined the helotism to which the Restoration, clogged with its old deputies and its old courtiers, had condemned the } 7 outli of the French nobility. He saw plainly that there was no place for him either at court, or in the State, or in the army, — in short, anywhere. Consequently, he threw himself with all the more eagerness into a life of pleasure. Invited to the Elysee-Bourbon, to the salons of the Duchesse d'Angouleme, to the Pavilion Marsan, he received everywhere that superficial polite- ness which was due to the heir of an old family re- membered only when seen. Even that slight memory was something, and it might perhaps have led to a good marriage and the peerage in due course of time ; but Yicturnien's vanity kept him from making his posi- tion plain. He chose to remain under the panoply of 64 The Gallery of Antiquities. false opulence. He was, moreover, so complimented on his style, his carriages, his horses, he was so proud of his first success, that a shame not endurable to young men, — the shame of abdicating, — counselled him to maintain his position. He therefore took an apartment in the rue du Bac, with a stable, coach-house, and all the accompaniments of the life of elegance to which he found himself relegated. This putting himself, as it were, on the stage of Parisian fashionable life, required an outlay of fifty thousand francs ; and the young count obtained that sum, in spite of the precautions of the wise old notary, through a series of unforeseen circumstances. Chesnel's letter reached the office of his brother notary, but the latter was dead. Seeing that the letter was on busi- ness, the widow, a matter-of-fact person, turned it over to her husband's successor, Maitre Cardot, the new notary, who told the count that the treasury note for sixty thousand francs enclosed in Chesnel's letter, being to the order of his predecessor, was void. In reply to the carefully meditated epistle of the old provincial notary, Maitre Cardot wrote Chesnel three lines. In reply, Chesnel drew the note to the order of the young notary, who, not espousing the sentimentality of his correspondent, and delighted to oblige a Comte d'Es- grignon, gave Victurnien all he wanted. Those who know Paris are aware that fifty thousand francs does not provide an unlimited amount of fur- niture, equipages, horses, and elegance of all kinds ; and they will not be astonished to hear that Victurnien was immediately in debt to his tradespeople to the further amount of some twenty thousand francs, the The Gallery of Antiquities. 65 tradesmen in the first instance not being desirous of payment from a rich young man ; his fortune having swelled immensely in public opinion, assisted by Jose- phin, a species of Chesnel in livery. A month after his arrival, Victurnien was obliged to take the last ten thousand francs from his notary. He had merely played whist at the houses of the Dues de Lenoncourt, Cbaulieu, Navarreins, and at the club. After winning some thousands, he lost several thou- sands more, and felt the necessity of making himself a card fund. Victurnien had the sort of cleverness which pleases society and enables a young man of good family to put himself on a level with all whom he meets. Not only, therefore, was he admitted as a personage into the ranks of the gilded youth of Paris, but he was greatly envied there. When he felt himself an object of envy, his satisfaction was too intoxicating to allow him to think of retrenchment. He became, in that respect, beside himself : he would not even think of ways and means ; he put his hand into his sack as if it were sure of being replenished, and forbade himself to reflect on what would be the end of such a s} T stem. A young man like Victurnien, introduced by the leading powers of the faubourg Saint-Germain, to whom these protectors themselves attributed a fortune superior by far to what he really had ; in short, a marriageable count, a handsome man. witty and bien peasant, that is to say, of royalist opinions, and whose father still possessed the estates of his marquisate and the hereditary chateau, — such a young man was cer- tain to be well received in houses where there were idle and bored young women, mothers with daughters to 5 66 The Gallery of Antiquities. marry, or handsome partners without a dot. Society therefore welcomed him, smiling, to the front benches of her theatre, — benches that the marquises of the olden time were wont to occupy on the stage of Paris, where names alone are changed, not things. Victurnien found, in the society of the faubourg Saint- Germain, the double of the old Chevalier in the person of the Vidame de Pamiers. The vidame was a Cheva- lier de Valois, raised to the tenth rank, surrounded by the prestige of fortune, and enjoying the advantages of a really high position. The dear vidame was the repository of secrets, the gazette of the faubourg ; discreet withal, and, like other gazettes, never saying anything but what might safely be published. Victur- nien heard once more from the lips of the vidame the doctrines of the Chevalier ; the old gentleman told him, without mincing his language, to choose his mistresses among well-bred women, and he recounted to him his own youthful exploits. What the Vidame de Pamiers permitted himself to do in those days is so entirely outside of our modern manners and morals, in which soul and passion play so large a part, that it is useless to relate these things to persons who would never believe them. However, the vidame did something more useful than bestow his advice ; he said to Victurnien by way of conclusion : — " I invite you to dinner to-morrow at an eating- house. Afterwards we will go to the Opera to digest, and then I '11 take you to a salon where you will find a number of persons who are all desirous of meeting you." The Gallery of Antiquities. 67 The vidame gave him a delicious dinner at the Rocher de Cancale, where he found only three other guests, — de Marsay, Rastignac, and Blondet. Emile Blondet was a compatriot of the young count, a writer who had entered the upper ranks of society through his intimacy with a charming young woman also from Victurnien's province, — a Demoiselle de Troisville mar- ried to the Comte de Montcornet, one of Napoleon's generals who had since gone over to the Bourbons. The vidame professed a great dislike for dinners of more than six persons. According to him, there could be no conversation, no cooking, no wines properly understood and enjo} 7 ed with a greater number. " I have n't yet told you where I shall take you this evening, my dear boy," he said, taking Victurnien's hand and tapping it. " You are to go to the house of Mademoiselle des Touches, where you will find a little company of young and pretty women who all have pretensions to intellect. Literature, art, poesy, in short, all the talents, are there held in honor. It is one of our old circles of wit and cleverness, though lately varnished with the new monarchical morality, the livery of these days." " As fatiguing and trying occasionally as new boots," said de Marsay, " but women are present whom we have no chance to speak to elsewhere." " If all the poets who trot out their muses in that house were like Blondet," said Rastignac, tapping familiarly on his friend's shoulder, " we might be very well amused there. But odes, ballads, meditations on petty sentiments, romances with wide margins, infest the brains and the sofas too much as a general thing." 68 The Gallery of Antiquities. u Well, provided they don't spoil the women and do corrupt the young girls, I don't dislike them," said de Marsay. "Messieurs," said Blondet, laughing, "don't poach on my ground." " Your ground! why, you have come upon ours, and taken possession of the most charming woman in society," cried Rastiguac ; " we can take what we please from you." " Ah! he's a lucky dog," said the vidame, twisting Blondet's ear; " but Victurnien may perhaps be another this evening." " Already ! " cried de Marsay ; " why, he has n't had time to shake off the dust of his old manor, or get rid of the brine in which his aunt pickled him ; he has only just got a passable English horse, a tilbury, and a groom." "No, he hasn't even a groom," said Rastignac, interrupting de Marsay ; " he has a queer little peasant, brought from remote regions, whom Buisson the tailor, being employed to make him a livery, declares inca- pable of wearing a jacket." " The fact is, you ought all," said the vidame, gravely, "to model yourselves on Beaudenord, who has the advantage over the whole of you, my little friends, in possessing a real English tiger." " So," cried Victurnien, " it is to this that the gentle- men of France have come ! To them the greatest of all questions is to have an English horse, a tiger, and gewgaws ! ' "Hey-day! " cried Blondet, pointing to Victurnien, " the good sense of some men is truly awful. Yes, The Gallery of Antiquities. 69 young moralist, you are right. We have n't even, like our dear vidame, the credit of the life that made him famous some fifty years ago. No war with cardinals, no Field of the Cloth of Gold. Even you, Comte d'Es- grignon, — you are dining with a Sieur Blondet, young- est son of a poor little provincial judge, with whom you would n't shake hands in your own province, but who may possibly take his seat beside you ten years hence among the peers of France. After that, believe in your heaven-born rights, if you can." "Weil,"' said Rastignac, "we have passed from facts to ideas, from brute force to intellectual strength ; we speak — " " Now don't talk of our disasters," cried the vidame. " I am determined to die gayly. If our friend has n't a tiger, he comes of a race of lions, and that will do as well." "No, he can't do without a tiger," said Blondet; "he is too much of a new-comer." " Never mind : though his elegance is rather fresh, we adopt him," said de Marsay. " He is worthy of us : he understands his epoch ; he has wit ; he is noble, also agreeable. We like him ; we will serve him ; we will push him — " " Where?" said Blondet. " Inquisitive ! " exclaimed Rastignac. " Whom will he meet to-night?" asked de Marsay. "Oh, the whole seraglio," replied the vidame. After the dinner, which was very lively on the key of social gossip and elegant corruption, Rastignac and de Marsay accompanied the vidame and Victurnien to the Opera, intending to follow them later to the salon 70 The Gallery of Antiquities. of Mademoiselle des Touches, where the two roues pre- ferred to make their appearance at an hour when, accord- ing to their calculations, the reading of a certain tragedy would be over, — an exercise of the mind which they considered most unwholesome between the hours of eleven o'clock and midnight. They really went to watch Victurnien and embarrass him by their presence, — a bit of true schoolboy mischief, envenomed, how- ever, by the gall of jealous dandyism. Victurnien had by nature that species of youthful boldness which helps to ease of manner. Watching the new-comer to the great world, Rastignac was surprised to see his quick imitation of the manners of the day. "That little d'Esgrignon will go far," he said to his companion. " That's as it may be," replied de Marsay ; " but at any rate, he goes well now." The Gallery of Antiquities. 71 V. THE DUCHESSE DE MAUFRIGNEUSE. The vidame presented the young count to one of the most amiable, but also the most volatile of the duchesses of that period, whose adventures did not, however, explode upon the public ear until five years later. In all the brilliancy of her fame, suspected even now of certain levities that were never proved, she gained the notoriety which Parisian calumny lends to women as it does to men ; calumny, be it said, does not meddle with mediocrities, who, for their parts, would rather not live in such peace. This person was the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, born an Uxelles, whose father-in-law was still living, and who was therefore not Princesse de Cadignan till some years later. A friend of the Duchesse de Lan- geais, and also of the Vicomtesse de Beauseant, two orbs who had renounced society and disappeared, she was also intimate with the Marquise d'Espard, whom at this moment she was proceeding to dispossess of the frail royalty of fashion. Her widespread and very important connections protected her for a long time ; but the duchess belonged to the class of women who, without its being known in what way, where, and how they do it, will spend all the revenues of earth and those of the moon, if they could get them. Her char- 72 The Gallery of Antiquities. acter was as yet scarcely known ; de Marsay alone had fathomed it. Seeing the vidame leading Victurnien up to this charming personage, the redoubtable dandy stooped to Rastignac's ear and said, — k ' He'll be uist!" giving a long whistle like a coach- man's cat-call. That horribly vulgar word expressed admirably the elements of the passion which now ensued. The Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, after seriously studying Victurnien, was bewitched by him. The angelic look of thanks which she gave to the vidame would have made a lover jealous, could he have seen it ; but women are like horses let loose on a steppe when they find themselves, as the duchess did, in presence of a man like the vidame, — that is, on ground without dan- ger. They are then wholly natural ; in fact, they like to give out specimens of their inward tenderness. The look was discreet, from eye to eye, not reflected in any mirror, and no one could possibly intercept it. " How she has armed herself ! " said llastignac to de Marsay. " Look at that girlish gown ; what swanlike grace in that snowy neck ! what an air of inviolate purity ! See that innocent white fichu with its baby belt ! Who would ever suppose you had been her lover ? " % "That is what makes her what she is," said de Marsay, with an air of triumph. The young men smiled. Madame de Maufrigneuse detected the smile and guessed their discourse. She gave the two roue's a glance such as Frenchwomen knew nothing of before the peace, — glances which were imported into France by Englishwomen, together with The Gallery of Antiquities. 73 English plate, English harnesses, horses, and mounds of Britannic ice, which congeals a salon the moment a certain number of those ladies of the isle are in it. The two young men grew serious as clerks who expect a present after their director has delivered them a lecture. In pretending to fall in love with Victurnien, the duchess proposed to herself to play the part of the romantic Agnes, — a part which several women have imitated, to the great detriment of the youth of our day. Madame de Maufrigneuse improvised herself an angel for the present moment, very much as she in- tended to take to literature and science when she reached the forties, in preference to taking to religion. She made it a point to resemble no one. She per- formed her own part, invented her own gowns, hats, bonnets, opinions, and methods of behavior. After her marriage, and while still a mere girl, she pLayed the knowing and almost perverted woman ; she permitted herself certain speeches which were compromising enough to superficial persons, but only proved her ignorance to men of the world. As the period of her marriage, which was well- known, prevented her from subtracting a single little year from her age, and as she was now twenty-six years old, it occurred to her to make herself an immacu- late being. She seemed to be hardly of this earth ; she shook her large sleeves (then the fashion) as though they were wings. Her glance flew upward to heaven at a word, an idea, a look too ardent. The Madonna of Piola — a great Genoese painter, stabbed out of jealousy at the moment when he was becoming a 74 The Gallery of Antiquities. second Raffaelle — that Madonna of infinite purity, whom we can hardly see behind her glass in the little street in Genoa, was a Messalina compared to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. Women asked themselves how it was that the giddy young woman had become, by means of one gown, the veiled seraph who, to use a simile then in vogue, seemed to have a soul as white as the last Alpine snowfall on the highest peaks. How had she managed to solve the Jesuitical problem of showing a bosom whiter even than her soul, while hiding it under gauze ; how could she make herself so immaterial and yet let her glances glide about her in so killing a way? She seemed to be promising a thou- sand delights to the senses, while an ascetic sigh for the better life issued from her lips. Some innocent young fellows, and there were some at that epoch in the Royal guard, asked themselves if in moments of the closest intimacy that White lady, that sidereal vapor fallen from the Milky Way, could ever be spoken to familiarly. This system, which had a vogue of several years, was very advantageous to women whose charming bosoms were lined with stout philosophy, and who con- cealed certain pressing exigencies beneath these saintly manners. Not one of those celestial creatures was unaware of the benefits to be derived from the love of a well-born man desirous of recalling them to earth. The application of this system, divined by de Marsay, explains his last speech to Rastignac, whom he saw on the point of becoming jealous of Victurnien. " My dear fellow," he said, " stay where you are. Nucingen will make your fortune ; but the Duchesse de The Gallery of Antiquities. 75 Maufrigneuse would ruin you. That woman is alto- gether too dear." Rastignac let de Marsav leave him without another word : he knew his Paris. He knew that the most precieuse, noblest, and most disinterested woman in the world, one who can hardly be brought to accept a bou- quet, often becomes as dangerous to a young man as the opera-girls of the olden time. In fact, opera-girls have now passed into the condition of myths. The present manners and morals of a theatre make the danseuses and actresses connected with it about as amusing as a declaration of women's rights : virtuous and respectable mothers of family may be seen trund- ling their babies in the morning and showing their legs in tights or trousers at night. In the depths of his provincial office, the worthy Chesnel had foreseen at least one of the reefs on which the young count might be wrecked. The poetic halo with which Madame de Maufrigneuse crowned herself completely dazzled Victurnien, who was caught from the first moment, hooked to the belt of that innocent creature, twined in those beauteous locks curled by the fingers of fairies. The youth, already corrupted, be- lieved in that assemblage of purities robed in white muslin, in that sweet look as carefully deliberated as a law in the two Chambers. In such a situation it is all-sufficient if the man who is expected to believe in the lies of women does believe in them. The rest of the world are of no more consequence than figures in a tapestry to two lovers. The duchess was, without flattery, one of the ten acknowledged and recognized prettiest women in 76 The Gallery of Antiquities, Paris, though we all know that there are in the world of lovers as many " prettiest women " as u finest books of the a«;e " in literature. At Victurnien's time of life, the conversation he now had with the duchess could be sustained without much fatigue. Young, and little aware of Parisian life, he felt no need of being on his guard, nor of watching his ever}' word and his every look. The religious sentimentalism of the duch- ess, which conveyed to the mind of each party ex- tremely droll under-meanings, excluded, of course, the soft familiarity, the witty laisser-aller of the old- fashioned French causeries ; the lovers, in fact, made love in a cloud. Victurnien had precisely enough provincial innocence to be thrown into a state of ecstasy, very suitable and not assumed, which pleased the duchess. Madame de Maufrigneuse estimated the error of the young count — not perhaps without some dread — at six good months of the game of pure love. She was so delicious in her role of dove, veiling the light of her eyes be- neath their silken fringes, that the Marquise d'Espard, on bidding her good-night, whispered, " Well done, capitally done, my dear." After which comprehend- ing speech, the handsome marquise allowed her rival to continue her new journey through our modern map of the " Pays du Tendre," — a conception, by the bye, which is not as ridiculous as some people think it. That map is re-engraved, age after age, with different names, all leading, however, to the same capital. In an hour's public tete-a-tete, on a sofa in a corner, the duchess led d'Essjrisjnon through all the Amadi- sian devotions, Scipionesque generosities, and ascetic The Gallery of Antiquities. 77 abnegations of the middle ages, then just beginning to reveal its halberds, turrets, coats of mail, pointed shoes, and other romantic paraphernalia in painted cardboard. She was inimitable also in the ideas she did not express, but which she stuck into Victurnien's heart, like pins into a cushion, one by one, in a dis- creet, unconscious way. She was reticent, charmingly hypocritical, prodigal of suggested promises, which melted on closer examination like ice in the sun. This delightful first meeting ended in the slip-noose of an invitation to come and see her, given with a certain demure manner which written words in vain attempt to describe. " You will forge* - me," she said; " you will meet so man) 7 women anxious to court you instead of helping you — But you will come back to me undeceived — Will you come sooner? No. Ah! as you will — For myself, I say frankly that your visits will please me very much. Men with souls are so rare ; and I believe in yours — Well, adieu ; if we talk together longer, people will talk of us." So savins, the anoel flew away. Victurnien did not stay long after her departure ; but he remained long enough to let the rest of the company guess his infatu- ation by that demeanor of happiness which has some- thing of the calm assurance and concentrated beatitude of a devote issuing; absolved from the confessional. " Madame de Maufrioneuse went straight to her end this evening," said the Duchesse de Lenoncourt, when only some half-dozen persons remained in the salon ; namely. Mademoiselle des Touches herself, des Lu- peaulx, a master of petitions, Charles de Vandenesse, 78 The G-allery of Antiquities, the Vicomtesse de Grandlieu-Canalis, and Madame de Serizy. " D'Esgrignon and Maufrigneuse are two names that were sure to hook together," said Madame de Se'rizy, who was supposed to say witty things. " She has fairly turned herself out to grass on Pla- tonism," said des Lupeaulx. " She will ruin that poor innocent," remarked Charles de Vandenesse. " In what way?" asked Mademoiselle des Touches. "Oh, morally and financially; not a doubt of it," said the viscountess, rising. That cruel remark was the forerunner of cruel reali- ties for the young Comte d'Esgrignon. The next day he wrote his aunt a letter, describing his debut in the highest ranks of the faubourg Saint- Germain in the most iridescent colors cast by the prism of love. He explained the reception he had met with everywhere in a manner to gratify his father's pride. The marquis had the letter read over to him twice, and rubbed his hands as he listened to the tale of the dinner given by the Vidame de Pamiers, one of his old acquaintances, and of the presentation that followed to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse ; but he lost himself in conjectures as to the presence in such society of the younger son of a judge, a Sieur Blondet, who had been a public prosecutor under the Republic. There was joy that evening in the Gallery of Antiq- uities, and much talk of the success of the young count. This letter had no financial postscript, no unpleasant conclusion about the sinews of war, which young men are apt to add in such cases. Mademoiselle Armande The Gallery of Antiquities. 79 communicated the letter to Cbesnel. Chesnel was happy, and raised no doubts. It was clear, as the Chevalier and the marquis said, that a young man who was liked by the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and taken up by her would become a hero at court, where, as they judged from the olden time, success was obtained through women. The young count had certainly chosen well. The dowagers present related the gallant ad- ventures of the house of Maufrigneuse, from Louis XIII. to Louis XIV., sparing their hearers the earlier reigns. In short, every one was elated. That particular as- semblage of the Gallery of Antiquities ought to have had a dramatic author present who would have made a scene of the highest comedy out of it. Victumien received charming letters from his father and aunt, also from the Chevalier, who asked to be remembered to the vidame, with whom he had gone to Spa at the period of a journey made there in 1778 by a celebrated Hungarian princess. Every page of these letters was filled with the adulation to which these tender friends had too long accustomed the unhappy youth. Mademoiselle Armande seemed to enter especially into the matter of Madame de Maufrigneuse. Glad of the approbation of his family, the young count plunged vigorously into the perilous and costly path of dandyism. He had five horses ; but in that he was moderate, for de Marsav had fourteen. He re- turned to the vidame, de Marsay, Rastignac, and even Blondet the dinner received. That dinner alone cost him five hundred francs. The young provincial was entertained by all these gentlemen on the same scale, grandly. He played much, and with great ill-luck, at 80 The Gallery of Antiquities. whist, then the fashionable game. He organized his leisure and kept himself busy all the time. Every morning from twelve to three he was with the duchess in her own house ; then he met her again in the Bois de Boulogne, — he on horseback, she in her carriage. If the handsome pair occasionally rode out together, it was always in the mornings. In the evenings, balls, fetes, theatres, and general society filled his time. Victurnien shone wherever he went, for he cast the pearls of his wit about him easily, and he often used pregnant words in judging of men and things and events. He was like a fruit-tree as yet only in blos- som. The debilitating life he led was likely to dissi- pate more soul than even money ; in such a life the noblest talents are buried, the most incorruptible honor fails, the firmest wills are emasculated. The duchess, that white creature, so fragile, so an- gelic, took delight in the pleasures of young men ; she liked to see first representations ; she loved drollery, and amusements that were not of the common run. A restaurant was as yet unknown to her, and d'Es- grignon arranged a charming party at the Rocher de Cancale composed of the lively young roues whose company she affected while she preached to them morality. The gayety, wit, and fun of this supper equalled its cost. It led to others of the same kind. Nevertheless, Victurnien's passion remained angelic. Yes, Madame de Maufrigneuse continued an angel whom the corruptions of earth could never touch ; an angel at the Varietes, in presence of those semi- obscene and popular farces which made her laugh ; an angel in the midst of a cross-fire of questionable jests The Gallery of Antiquities. 81 and scandalous gossip ; an angel at the Vaudeville, in a screened box ; an angel watching the poses of a danseuse at the Opera and criticising them with the knowingness of old men ; an angel at the Porte-Saint- Martin ; an angel at the little boulevard theatres ; an angel at a masked ball, where she amused herself like a collegian, — an angel who talked of love as existing only on privations, heroisms, sacrifices, and made d'Esgrignon change a horse whose color she did not fancy, and expected him to keep up the style of an English lord with a million a year. Moreover, she was always an angel at cards ; for who could say to Victur- nien more angelically, "Play for me"? She was so enchantingly delightful in her follies that every man was ready to sell his soul to the devil to minister to the terrestrial joys of such a celestial being. By the time his first winter in Paris was over, the count had drawn upon Maitre Cardot (who was careful not to remonstrate) for the trifling sum of thirty thou- sand francs over and above the sum forwarded by Chesnel. An extremely polite refusal from the notary of a further demand warned Victuruien of this debt. The refusal was all the more annoying because he had just lost six thousand francs at the club, and he could not play there again without paying. After expressing great offence at Maitre Cardot's refusal, although the latter had really shown thirty thousand francs' worth of confidence in him, he was reduced to ask the notaiy's advice as to what he should do, inasmuch as the matter concerned a debt of honor. " Draw notes on your father's banker, take them to his correspondent in Paris, who will doubtless cash 6 82 The Gallery of Antiquities. them ; then write to your family and ask them to pay in that amount to their banker's." In this emergency the count heard an inward voice uttering to his soul the name of du Croisier, whose private sentiments as to the aristocracy, at whose beck and call Victurnien had always seen the man, were wholly unknown to him. He therefore wrote to the banker and told him in a free and easy manner that he had drawn upon him for the sum of ten thousand francs, which would be remitted to him by Monsieur Chesnel or Mademoiselle Armande d'Esgrignon as soon as his letter of advice should reach them. He then wrote two touching letters to Chesnel and his aunt. When it becomes a question of plunging into gulfs of misery, young men give proofs of the utmost clever- ness; luck attends them. Victurnien ascertained in the course of the morning the name and address of the Parisian bankers who did business for du Croisier, namely, the Kellers. De Marsay, who knew all Paris, gave him the information. The Kellers paid d'Esgri- gnon the amount of the note, less the discount, without comment. The amount of this gambling-debt was, however, nothing in comparison with other and more legitimate debts. It rained bills at Victurnien's house. "Bless me! do you bother yourself with those things? " said Rastignac one morning, laughing. "You don't pay them, do you, my dear fellow? I did n't think you so bourgeois." " My dear Rastignac, I must bother about them ; I owe twenty-odd thousand francs." De Marsay, who had come to ask Victurnien to go The Gallery of Antiquities. 83 to a steeple-chase, pulled an elegant little wallet from his pocket and took out twenty thousand francs. "This," he said, "is the best way of saving them; I am all the more pleased at having won them yester- day from my honorable father, Lord Dudley." This graceful French act completely won Victurnien, who now believed in friendship. He took the money, did not pay his debts, and spent it on his pleasures. De Marsay saw with extreme pleasure that d'Esgrignon was, in the language of dandyism, " plunging " deeper and deeper, and he took delight in pressing, with every sign of friendship, a hand upon his shoulder to bear him down, and get him the sooner out of sight. Secretly he was jealous of the open distinction the duchess gave to d'Esgrignon, while to him she had insisted on concealment. Later, on the same day, after the steeple-chase, de Marsay said to Victurnien, lauohino- : — "Those bills 3-ou were troubling about are certainly not yours." " He would not trouble about them if they were," said Rastis;nac. "Whose are they, then?" asked d'Esgrignon. "Don't you know the position of the duchess?" asked de Marsay. " No," said d'Esgrignon, puzzled. " Well, here it is, then," responded de Marsay. "Thirty thousand francs to Victorine, eighteen thou- sand to Houbigant, a large bill at Herbault's, another at Nattier's, another at Nourtier's, another at the little Latours', — in all, over a hundred thousand francs." " An angel ! " said d'Esgrignon, looking up to heaven. 84 The Gallery of Antiquities. " And that 's the cost of her wings," cried Rastignac. "She owes all that, my dear fellow," replied de Marsay, "precisely because she is an angel. But we have all met angels in that situation," he added, look- ing at Rastignac. " Women are sublime in one thing; they never understand anything about money ; it does n't concern them and they don't meddle with it, except to spend it. They are invited to the ' banquet of life,' as that poet who died in a hospital called it." 44 How should you know all this if I do not? " asked d'Esgrignon, naively. " You would be the last to know it, just as she will be the last to know you are in debt." "I thought she had a hundred thousand francs a year," said d'Esgrignon. " Her husband," replied de Marsay, " has separated from her ; he lives with his regiment and economizes, for he is in debt too, the dear little duke ! Where do you come from ? You must learn to do like the rest of us ; we all keep one another's accounts. Mademoiselle Diane (I loved her for her name) — Diane d'Uxelles had a dot of sixty thousand francs a year settled on her- self. Her house for the last six years has been kept on a footing that requires at least two hundred thou- sand ; it is consequently quite certain that her property is mortgaged to its full value. Some fine day the bell must be melted and the dear angel will be made to fly by — shall I say the word? — the sheriff's officer, who will have the brazen impudence to lay hold of an angel as he would of one of us." " Poor ano'el ! " " Ah ! my dear boy, it costs a good deal to live in a The Gallery of Antiquities. 85 Parisian paradise ; angels are forced to whiten their skins, and plume their wings, every morning," said Rastisnac. As it had passed through Victurnien's head to reveal his embarrassments to his dear Diane, a shudder came over him on reflecting that he owed at that moment sixty thousand francs, and that bills for ten thousand more would be presently coming in. He went home rather melancholy. His ill-disguised uneasiness was noticed by his friends, who said to each other at dinner : — " That little d'Esgrignon is plunging ; he has n't the Parisian tread; he'll blow his brains out. He's a little fool," etc., etc. When Victurnien reached home, his valet gave him two letters. First, one from Chesnel, filled, he sup- posed, with reproachful fidelity and the rubric of pro- bity and honor; he respected it, but he laid it aside for future reading. In the second letter he read with satisfaction the Ciceronian phrases in which du Croisier, on his knees to him, like Sganarelle before Geronte, entreated him never to think of depositing money before doing him the honor to draw upon him. The letter ended with a phrase which looked so like an open mone} 7 -box filled with coin, placed at the service of the noble house of d'Esgrignon, that Victurnien made the gesture of Sganarelle, of Mascarille, of all those who feel the prickings of conscience at their finger-ends. Knowing that he now had unlimited credit with the Kellers, he gayly picked up and opened Chesnel's letter. He expected four pages, brimming over with 86 The Gallery of Antiquities. remonstrances ; he could see the usual words, prudence, honor, proper sense of behavior, etc. For a minute he' turned giddy on reading these few lines : — Monsieur le Comte, — I have, out of my whole for- tune, only two hundred thousand francs left. I entreat you not to go beyond that sum if you do me the honor to accept it from the most devoted servant of your family, who presents to you his respects. Chesnel. " A man out of Plutarch," thought Victurnien, throwing the letter on the table. He felt annoyed, or rather he felt small in presence of such grandeur. " Come, come ! " thought he, " I must reform." Instead of dining at a restaurant where he usually spent fifty or sixty francs for his meal, he went to dine with the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, to whom he related the affair of the letter. " I wish I could see that man," she said. " What would von do with him? " " Put him in charge of my affairs." Diane was enchantingly dressed ; she wished to do honor to Victurnien. The handsome pair went to the Opera. Never did the beautiful, seductive being look more seraphic, more ethereal. No one seeing her could have believed in the debts de Marsay had figured up to d'Esgrignon that morning. The cares of earth had surely never touched that heavenly brow, instinct with womanly pride. Her dreamy air seemed the reflection of terrestrial love that was nobly stifled. The men laid wagers that Victurnien would have his trouble for his pains ; but the women were sure that their rival would The Gallery of Antiquities. 87 succumb. A circumstance which depicts the morals of Paris in a surprising manner was this : The men were convinced that the duchess paid for Victurnien's luxury, while the women asserted that Victurnien bore the cost of what Rastignac had called the " angel's wings." Victurnien, on whom the debts of the duchess weighed as heavily as his own, was twenty times on the point of opening the subject with a question ; but twenty times did the question die upon his lips in presence of that angelic being, as if such mundane doubts were an insult offered to her madonna-like purity. The duchess, we may remark, never committed the fault of talking about her virtue or her condition of angel, as many pro- vincial women who imitated her have been known to do. She was far more clever ; she inspired that belief in her lovers. Some persons tried to diminish her credit in this respect by declaring that she was the dupe of her own sorcery. A great calumny ! — the duchess thor- oughly understood herself. 88 The Gallery of Antiquities. VI. FOREWARNINGS. At the beginning of the winter of 1823 and 1824, Victurnien had a balance against him at the Kellers of two hundred thousand francs, of which neither Chesnel nor Mademoiselle Armande had the faintest suspicion. To hide the fact that he was obtaining money in this way, he drew from time to time for a few thousand francs from Chesnel, and he wrote deceptive letters to his aunt and father, who lived contented — and deceived, like most contented persons. One man only knew the horrible catastrophe that the fascinations of Parisian life were slowly but surely bringing down upon that great and noble family. Du Croisier, passing nightly before the Gallery of Antiquities, would rub his hands with joy, finding his ends in sight. Those ends were not alone the ruin, but the disgrace of the house of Esgrignon. He had the instinct of his vengeance ; one might even say he scented it. A catastrophe was certain now that the count was burdened with a debt under which that } 7 oung soul must break down. And the time had come when the crisis could be brought about. Du Croisier began operations by crushing the enemy who was personally most offensive to him, the worthy Chesnel. The srood old man lived in the rue du Ber- cail, in a house with a very steep roof and a small The Gallery of Antiquities. 89 paved courtyard, the walls of which were covered with roses to the second story. Behind the house was a tiny provincial garden, inclosed by damp and dismal walls, and divided into beds with box edgings. The gate, gray and clean, had the protection of a grated opening provided with a sharp bell which said, as plainly as some escutcheons, " Here lives and breathes a notary." It was half -past five in the afternoon. The old man was digesting his dinner, seated before the fire in his old black leather chair. He had put on a certain pasteboard armor in the form of a boot, with which he protected his legs from the heat of the flames ; for the old gentleman was in the habit of putting his feet on the fender and poking the fire as he digested. He liked good eating, and he always ate too much. Alas ! without that small defect would he not have been more perfect than it is given to man to be? He had taken his cup of coffee, brought by his old housekeeper, who had just retired, bearing with her the tray which had served this purpose a score of years ; he was now awaiting his clerks before going out as usual to spend the evening ; he was thinking — no need to ask of what or of whom. Never a day passed that he did not say to himself, "Where is he? What is he doing?" He believed him now to be travelling in Italy with the beautiful Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. Among the sweetest enjoyments of men who possess a fortune earned, not inherited, is the recollection of the toil it cost them, and the forecasting of the future they can give to their money ; they enjoy through every tense of that verb. So this old man, whose feelings 90 The Grallery of Antiquities. were concentrated in one attachment, found a double enjoyment in thinking that his well-selected landed property, now highly cultivated, bought by years of toil, would some day swell the domains of the house of Esgrignon. In the ease of his old arm-chair, he hugged this hope to his soul ; he looked in turn to the edifice of lighted brands and embers he was raising with the tongs, and then to that other edifice of the d'Esgrignon family raised from its misfortunes by his care. He congratulated himself on the meaning and object he had given to his life, imagining the young count happy. Chesnel, however, was not without intelligence ; his soul did not act alone in this great devotion. He had his own pride. He was like those nobles who rebuild the pillars of a cathedral and carve their names upon them ; his name should be inscribed upon the memory of the house of Esgrignon ; yes, the family would talk of old Chesnel. At that moment his housekeeper came hurrying in with every sign of extreme alarm. " Is the house afire, Brigitte? " asked Chesnel. " Something like it," she answered; " Monsieur du Croisier wants to see you." " Monsieur du Croisier," repeated the old man, so cruelly stabbed by the blade of suspicion that he let fall the tonofs on the hearth. " Monsieur du Croisier CD here!" he thought, — "our worst enemy ! " Du Croisier entered with the gait of a cat that smells milk in the pantry. He bowed, took the arm-chair the notary placed for him, sat down very meekly, and presented an account for two hundred and twenty- seven thousand francs, forming the total, interest in- The Gallery of Antiquities. 91 eluded, of moneys advanced to Monsieur Victurnien on notes drawn by him and accepted ; payment of which he now demanded, under pain of proceeding with the utmost rigor of the law against the heir of the house of Esgrignon. Chesnel looked over the fatal notes one bv one, and requested silence on the subject from the family enemy. The enemy promised to be silent if he were paid within forty-eight hours ; he w r as embarrassed himself ; he was involved with manufacturers. Du Croisier went through a series of those pecuniary falsehoods which never deceive either borrowers or notaries. Poor Chesnel's eyes grew blurred ; he could scarcely repress his tears. He could only meet this demand by mort- gaging his entire property to its full value. The moment du Croisier learned of this difficulty, he ceased to talk of his own pressure for money, and bluntly proposed to the old notary to sell the whole property outright to him. The proposal was accepted, the sale made, and in two days the papers were signed. Poor Chesnel could not endure the thought of the child of the house in a debtor's prison. A few days later, and nothing was left to the no- tary but his practice, his outstanding bills, and his little house. He stood, despoiled of his property, beneath the old oak ceiling; of his studv, looking; at the carved beams, looking at the arbor in his garden, thinking no more of his fine farms nor of his dear country-place Le Jard — no ! " What will become of him ? " he was saying to him- self with troubled eyes and a heavy head. " We must bring him home and marry him." 92 The Gallery of Antiquities. He knew not how to approach Mademoiselle Ar- mande with this fatal news. He, who had just with his own means paid the debt in the name of the family, he trembled to speak of these things. As he went from the rue du Bercail to the hotel d'Esgrignon, the good old notary's heart was throbbing like that of a young girl as she leaves her father's home, never to return till a mother and deserted. Mademoiselle Armande had just received a charming, hypocritical letter, in which her nephew seemed the happiest and most light-hearted man in the universe. He had been to Italy and to various Baths with Madame de Maufrigneuse, and he now sent to his family a journal of their trip. Happiness was in every sentence. Here a ravishing description of Venice, with intelligent appreciation of the beauties of Italian art ; there delightful pages on the Duomo of Milan, and that of Florence ; sketches of the Apennines, compar- ing them with the Alps, of villages like that of Chia- vari, where happiness seems ready-made about us, — all these things fascinated the poor aunt, who drank in the letter with long draughts, as the pure woman, ripened in the fire of repressed passions, the victim of desires offered as a holocaust upon the domestic altar with unending joy, might well be supposed to do. She had not the angel semblance of the duchess ; she resembled those straight, thin, elongated figures, yel- lowish in tone, which the wonderful builders of cathe- drals placed in niches at various angles, at the feet of which perpetual dampness permits the bind-weed to grow and twine until, on some fine day, behold, its blue bells crown the saintly head. The Gallery of Antiquities. 93 At this moment the blueness was glowing in the eyes of the living saint. Mademoiselle Armande loved the beautiful couple; she did not think it reprehensi- ble that a married woman should love Victurnien ; in all others she would instantly have blamed it, but here the wrong would be in not loving her nephew. Aunts and mothers and sisters have a certain jurisprudence of their own about their nephews, sons, and brothers. She fancied herself beside the handsome pair among those palaces built by fairies on either side of the Grand Canal of Venice. She was in a gondola with Victur- nien, who was telling her how happy he was to feel the beautiful hand of the duchess in his own, and to be so loved as he floated on the bosom of that amorous queen of the Italian waters. At that moment of angelic beatitude Chesnel appeared at the end of a garden path, the gravel creaking beneath his tread like a harsh foreboding. That sound, and the sight of the old man in a state of dire distress filled the poor woman with the cruel emotion which follows a recall of the soul from worlds imaginary. " AVhat is it? " she cried, as if struck to the heart. "All is lost!" said Chesnel. "Monsieur le comte will bring disgrace upon the family if we do not bring him to order." He showed her the notes w T ith Victurnien's signature ; he described the tortures he had gone through for the last four days in few and simple, but strong and touch- ing words. "Unhappy boy, he is deceiving us!" cried Made- moiselle Armande, whose heart dilated from the rush of blood that flowed there in waves. 94 The Gallery of Antiquities. "Let us say our med culpa, mademoiselle," replied the old mau, iu a firm voice. "We trained him to follow his own will ; he needed a stern guide, and neither you, an unmarried woman, nor I, to whom he would not listen, could be that to him ; he has had no mother." "There are terrible fatalities for the falling race of nobles," said Mademoiselle Armande, in tears. At this moment the marquis appeared. He had just come in from his daily walk and was reading a letter from his son describing his journey from the aristo- cratic point of view. Wherever he had gone Victur- nien had been received by the great Italian families. He had presented a distinguished appearance worthy of a d'Esgrignon. Mademoiselle Armande made a sign to Chesnel, eager and terrible, well understood by the notary. The poor father, that flower of feudal honor, must be * allowed to die in his illusions. A compact of silence and devotion was made between the noble notary and the noble lady by a mere inclination of the head. "Ah! Chesnel, that is not exactly the way a d'Esgrignon went to Italy in the fifteenth century, when Marechal Trivulce, in the service of France, fought under a d'Esgrignon who had a Bayard also under him. Other times, other ways. The Duchesse de Maufrigneuse may be fully as handsome as a Mar- chesa Spinola." The old man, thinking of his genealogical tree, walked away, gesticulating as though he were talking to himself. The two afflicted friends remained alone, sitting on the same bench, united by the same thought. The Gallery of Antiquities. 95 "What will become of him?" said Mademoiselle Armande. " Du Croisier has given orders to the Messrs. Keller to accept no further notes," replied Chesnel. " He must have debts," continued the aunt. "I fear so." " If he has no resources what can he do? " " I dare not answer that question to myself." "But we must rescue him and bring him home; he will certainly come to want." "And to worse," muttered Chesnel, lugubriously. Mademoiselle Armande did not understand, she could not understand, the meaning of the words. " How can we get him away from that woman, that duchess, who, no doubt, entices him on?" she said. "He would commit crimes to stay with her," said Chesnel, trying to reach by endurable transitions an unendurable thought. " Crimes ! " repeated Mademoiselle Armande. "Ah ! Chesnel, such an idea could come to none but you," she added with a crushing glance. "Noblemen com- mit no crimes but what is called high treason, for which they lose their heads like kings, on a black scaffold." "Times have changed," said Chesnel, shaking his head. "Even our king-martyr did not die like Charles I." This reflection calmed her anger ; she shuddered, though without admitting the possibility of Chesnel's idea. "To-morrow we must take some course," she said, " but it needs reflection. We have our remaining property in case of the worst." 96 The Gallery of Antiquities. "Yes," replied Chesnel, "the property is still un- divided between you and Monsieur le marquis ; but yours is the larger share, — you could mortgage it unknown to him." During the evening the players at whist, reversis, boston, and backgammon, noticed a peculiar agitation on the usually calm, pure features of Mademoiselle Armande. " Poor, sublime girl ! " said the old Marquise de Cas- teran, "it is not surprising that she suffers still. A woman never knows to what she condemns herself in after life by making such sacrifices as she has made for her family." The next day it was decided between Mademoiselle Armande and Chesnel that the former should go to Paris and drag her nephew from perdition. If any one could succeed in carrying off Victurnien it was surely the woman who had a mother's yearning for him. Mademoiselle Armande made up her mind to go direct to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and declare the whole state of things to that woman. But it was absolutely necessary to find a pretext for this journey, in the eyes of the marquis and of the town. Mademoiselle Armande sacrificed all her personal feel- ings by giving out that a serious malady required a consultation of doctors of noted skill whom it was impossible to bring from Paris. God knows what talk this made ; but the devoted aunt saw only a nephew's honor to be saved, more precious than her own feelings. She started. Chesnel brought her his last bag of louis, which she took without paying heed The Gallery of Antiquities. 97 to them, very much as she might have taken her bonnet and mittens. ''Generous creature! what grace!" thought Ches- nel, as he put her iuto the carriage with her waiting- woman, who resembled a Gray Sister. 98 The Gallery of Antiquities. VII. A CRIME. Du Croisier had calculated his vengeance as a pro- vincial calculates all things. None but savages, peasants, and provincials study their affairs to the very bottom and in every direction ; consequently, when they pass from thought to act their scheme will be found complete. Diplomatists are babes in presence of those three classes of mammifers, who have time on their hands, — an element which is lacking to persons obliged to think of many things and to prepare and conduct the great affairs of statecraft. Had du Croisier so fathomed the heart of poor Vic- turnien that he foresaw the facility with which the young man would help him to his vengeance? or did he profit by a chance watched and waited for during many years? Who had kept du Croisier informed? Was it the Kellers? Was it the son of du Ronceret, who was now at the Law-school in Paris? Du Croisier wrote to Victurnien informing him that the Kellers were forbidden to advance him any further sums at the moment when, as the provincial banker knew, the Duchesse cle Maufrigneuse was in the last extremity of debt and embarrassment, and the Comte d'Esgrignon was equally pressed by horrible though carefully concealed necessities. The unfortunate The Gallery of Antiquities. 99 young man was in fact employing; all the powers of his mind in feigning opulence. This letter, telling him that the Kellers would pay him no more money until their late advances were made good, ended with the formulas of conventional respect between which and the signature a somewhat wide space of blank paper was left. By cutting off this portion containing the signature a draft could be made of it, by which to obtain a considerable sum of money. When the letter reached him Victurnien fell into the depths of despair. After two years of the happiest, most sensual, least thoughtful, most luxurious life, he suddenly found himself face to face with inexorable poverty and an absolute impossibility of obtaining money. His journey to Italy was not accomplished without some twinges of anxiety. The count had ex- torted with difficulty, the duchess aiding, certain sums from various bankers. These sums, represented by notes of hand, would presently rise up before him with the implacability of banks and commercial law. In the midst of his enjoyments the unfortunate young man had felt the point of the Commander's sword. As he supped he heard, like Don Juan, the Statue's heavy tread mounting the stairs. He felt those in- describable cold chills which the siroccos of debt alone produce. All he could look to now was chance. So far he had been lucky in the lottery of life ; his purse had been kept full. He told himself that after Ches- nel had come du Croisier, and after du Croisier another mine of gold would turn up. Besides, he had always won large sums at play. Play had saved him in sev- eral straits ; though often, impelled by foolish hope, 100 The Gallery of Antiquities. he would lose at his club the money won at whist in private houses. His life, for the last two months, had resembled the immortal end of Mozart's Don Juan. The music of that opera ought to make young men in Victurnien's position tremble. If anything can prove the mighty power of music, it is this magnificent rendering of a disorderly existence and the troubles that come of a life exclusively voluptuous, — this terrifying picture of a man turning a deaf ear to all warnings, making himself indifferent to debts, duels, deceptions, dangers. Mozart in this opera is the successful rival of Moliere. The terrible finale, fiery, vigorous, desperate, jovial, full of horrible phantoms and goblin women, ending in a last effort made amid the fumes of wine in frantic self-defence, — all this infernal poem Victurnien was beginning to play in his secret soul. He saw himself alone, abandoned, without friends, before a stone on which w T as written, as at the close of some delightful book, the word finis. Yes ! all was indeed coming to an end for him. He saw, in advance, the cold and scornfully sarcastic look and smile with which his late companions would receive the news of his disaster. He knew that among them all, men who threw away their money on the green tables which Paris offers everywhere, at the Bourse, the clubs, the salons, not one would part with a single bank-bill to rescue a fallen friend. Chesnel must be ruined ; yes, he had sucked Chesnel dry. When he thought of the duchess all the Furies were in his heart, dividing it among them. As he rolled down this pre- cipice of doubt, despair, and helplessness, he, who loved The Gallery of Antiquities. 101 life to the point of cowardly action to- save it, even he looked at his pistols ; he went so far as to think of suicide, — he, that worthless voluptuary, unworthy of his name. And he knew his unworthiuess ; he, who had never endured the mere semblance of blame, now overwhelmed himself with those dreadful reproaches which the human heart never hears except from itself. What remained to him now but flight? Alas! in three days he must be gone, if he would escape arrest ; for his notes were now falling due. An atrocious thought suddenly flashed into his brain; he would fly with the duchess, live in some unknown place, in the wilds of North or South America ; but — he would fly with a fortune, leaving his creditors to face their losses. To accomplish this plan he had only to cut off the end of the letter signed by du Croisier, make a draft of it, and carrv it to the Kellers. The struggle in his soul was awful ; tears were shed, and the honor of his race triumphed momentarily, but only on con- ditions. Victurnien resolved to be sure of his Diane ; he made the execution of his scheme contingent on her consent to their flight. He went to the duchess and found her in one of those elegant and coquettish morning toilets, requiring as much care and thought as money, which enabled her to begin her role of angel by eleven o'clock in the morning. Madame de Maufrigneuse was somewhat pensive ; the same anxieties consumed her, but she bore them courageously. Among the divers organizations which physiologists have remarked in women there is one which is, I may say, terrible ; which combines vigor of soul, clearness of perception, promptitude of decision 102 The Gallery of Antiquities. with cool Composure, or rather a settled purpose about certain things that a man fears. These faculties are concealed by an external show of graceful weakness. Such women, and they alone among women, represent the union, or rather the struggle, of two beings in one which Buff on reports as existing only in the human race. Other women are wholly women ; they are en- tirely tender, entirely mothers, entirely devoted, entirely dull and wearisome ; their nerves are in harmony with their blood, and their blood with their heads. But women like the duchess can attain to the loftiest sensi- bility, and yet give proofs of an utterly selfish insensi- bility. One of Moliere's glories is to have painted wonderfully the nature of such women, in one of the greatest figures which he carved in marble, — Celimene ; Celimene, who represents the aristocratic woman, just as Figaro, that second edition of Pan urge, represents the people. Crushed beneath the weight of enormous debts, the duchess had ordered herself, precisely as Napoleon took up and laid clown at will the burden of his thoughts, not to think of that avalanche of cares for more than a single moment in which to choose a definite course. She had the faculty of separating herself from herself, and of contemplating disaster at arm's length, instead of letting it overwhelm her. This was certainly fine, but also horrible in a woman. The perils of her position had now culminated. Between the' hour when she woke and began to think of them, and the hour when she rose and made that charming toilet, she had contemplated her danger under all its aspects and recognized the possibility of a terrible The Gallery of Antiquities. 103 end. She meditated : should she fly to foreign coun- tries ; or go to the king and declare her debts ? Should she seduce a du Tillet, or a Nucingen, and gamble through them at the Bourse ? Those bourgeois bankers would have the wit to share the profits with her and make no talk of losses. These various means and the impending catastrophe were coldly and calmly deliber- ated in her mind, without the least trepidation. As a naturalist puts the finest of his lepidoptera aside and fastens it on cotton with a pin, so Madame de Mau- frioneuse took her love out of her heart in order to think over her necessities, intending to take back her emotions and her role of angel as soon as she had saved her ducal coronet. There was no such hesita- tion in her mind as Richelieu confessed to Pere Joseph, and Napoleon concealed from all the world. She said to herself distinctly, " Either this or that." She was sitting beside the fire in her dressing-room, choosing her toilet for the Bois, if the weather per- mitted, when Victurnien was announced. In spite of his stifled capacities and his clever mind, the count was now in a condition which ought to have been that of the duchess. He trembled, his heart throbbed, he perspired in his dandy trappings, he dared not as yet lay hands upon that corner-stone which, if withdrawn, would bring down the tottering pyramid of their mutual existence. It would cost him so much to gain certainty. The strongest men like to deceive themselves about certain things when the naked truth would humiliate them in their own minds. Victurnien forced himself out of his hesitation by launching at once a revealing sentence. 104 The G-allery of Antiquities. " What is the matter?" were Diane's first words as she saw the troubled aspect of her dear Victurnien. " My dear Diane, I am in such distress that a man at the bottom of the sea, at his last gasp, is better off than I." "Pooh!" she cried, "some foolishness; you are nothing but a child. What is it? Tell me." " I am overwhelmed with debt, and I have come face to face with a wall." "Is that all?" she said, laughing. "All money matters can be arranged in one way or another ; nothing is irreparable but the disasters of the heart." Consoled by this immediate acceptance of his posi- tion, Victurnien unfolded the brilliant tapestry of his life for the last thirty months, showing the wrong side, with much talent and, above all, much wit. His tale was full of that poesy of the moment which never fails a person in great crises, and which he varnished with an elegant contempt for men and things. This was aristocratic. The duchess listened as she knew how to listen, with her elbow on her knee, which was raised quite high. Her foot was on a stool, her fingers prettily clasping her pretty chin. She kept her eyes on the count, but myriads of sentiments flitted across their blue, like flashes of lightning in the still heavens. Her forehead was calm, her mouth gravely attentive, its lips hanging on those of Victurnien. To be listened to thus was surely enough to make a man believe that love divine was emanating from that heart. Accordingly, when Victurnien proposed flight to this soul bound to his soul, the beautiful duchess answered without having spoken, and so led the young man to cry out once more, — The Gallery of Antiquities. 105 " You are an ansrel ! " " Yes, yes," said the duchess, who, instead of giving way to the love she was expressing, was busy with calculations which she kept to herself; " but that's not the point now, my friend. Let us think of you. Yes, we will go, and the sooner the better. Arrange it all, and I will follow you. It will be a fine act to leave Paris and society altogether. I will make my prep- arations in a way that no one can suspect." The words "I will follow you" were said as the Mars of that epoch would have said it to make thou- sands of spectators thrill. When a Duchesse de Mau- frigneuse offers in such a sentence such a sacrifice to love, she has paid all debts. Victurnien was the better able to hide the means he intended to employ because Diane took care to make no inquiries. She was a guest, as de Marsay quoted, "at the banquet of life," crowned with the roses all men were bound to bring her. Victurnien did not go until that promise was reiterated ; he wanted pledges of his happiness from which to draw courage for the action which would surely be, he said to himself, misinterpreted. But he relied, when the worst came, on his aunt and father to stifle scandal ; he counted upon Chesnel to invent some compromise. Besides, the affair was the only possible way in which he could raise a forced loan upon the family estates. With three hundred thousand francs he and the duchess could go away and live happily ; hidden in a Venetian palazzo they could forget the world. The next day Victurnien made a draft of three hundred thousand francs and took it to the Kellers. 106 The Gallery of Antiquities. The Kellers paid it. They had funds of du Croisier's in their hands ; but they wrote him that he must not draw again for such large sums without giving them due notice. Du Croisier, much astonished, asked for his account, which was sent to him. The account ex- plained all. Vengeance had come indeed ! When Victurnien obtained the money he carried it to Madame du Maufrigneuse for safe-keeping. She locked the bank-bills in her secretary, and then de- clared she must go to the Opera for the last time and bid it adieu. Victurnien was uneasy and absent-minded ; he was beginning to reflect. He thought that his place beside the duchess at the Opera might cost him dear ; and that after putting his three hundred thousand francs in safety, he had better have gone post-haste to Chesnel and confessed his position. The next day, at three o'clock, he was at the hotel de Maufrigneuse to take his Diane's last orders for their flight, which she desired should take place after midnight. " AVhy should we go? " she said. " I have thought over your project. The Vicomtesse de Beauseant and the Duchesse de Langeais fled and disappeared. My flight would be such a very commonplace thing. No, it is better to stay, and face the storm. That will be much finer. I am sure of success." Victurnien turned giddy ; he fancied his skin was melting and all the blood in his body flowing out. u What is the matter?" cried the beautiful Diane, noticing a hesitation she was the last woman in the world to foro-ive. Clever men ought at once to say yes to all a woman's The Gallery of Antiquities. 107 caprices, and merely suggest reasons against them, leaving her to exercise her right of changing ad in- finitum her ideas, resolutions, and sentiments. But Victurnien for the first time showed anger, the anger of a weak nature, a storm of rain and lightning, but no thunder. He maltreated his angel, trusting in whom he had sacrificed more than life, the honor of his house. " So," she said, " this is my return for eighteen months of tenderness ! You have hurt me — hurt me very much. Go away ! I do not wish to see you again. I believed that you loved me, but you do not love me." "Not love you ! " he exclaimed, amazed at the reproach. " No, monsieur." " But — " he cried. " Ah ! if you only knew what I have just done for you ! " 44 And pray, what have you done for me? " she said. " Are you not bound to do all for a woman who has done so much for you ? " "' You are not worthy to know it ! " cried Victurnien, furiously. "Ah!" After that sublime " ah ! " Diane bowed her head, sup- ported it on her hand, and remained cold, motionless, implacable, as the angels, who do not share in human feelings, ought to be. AYhen Victurnien beheld her in that terrible pose, he forgot his anger. AYas he not maltreating the most angelic creature upon earth? He begged for pardon, he threw himself at Diane's feet and kissed them ; he 108 The G-allery of Antiquities. implored, he wept. For two hours the unfortunate man committed all these follies only to meet a frigid face, and eyes from which a tear rolled silently now and then, wiped instantly away as if to prevent that un- worthy lover from drying it. The duchess played with much success one of those griefs which make a woman auo'ust and sacred. Two more hours succeeded the first two ; at the end of which time the count obtained the hand of his mistress, but it was cold and soulless. That beautiful hand was limp ; it said nothing. He had taken it; it was not given. Life departed from him; he could not think ; he could see nothing, not even the sun. What was he to do? Where could he go? What course must he take? Victurnien simply dropped into a doltish stupor, the darkness of which enveloped his brain. Through that gloomy mist passed visions like those that Raffaelle painted on dark backgrounds, visions of sensual pleasures to which he was now to bid adieu forever. Inexorable and contemptuous, the duchess played with an end of her scarf, casting irritated glances at Vic- turnien. She recalled her early memories ; she talked of her former lovers, as if Victurnien's anger decided her to let one of them displace a man who after eigh- teen months of devotion on her part could so ill-treat her. "Ah!" she said, "that dear, charming Felix de Vandenesse, so faithful to Madame de Mortsauf, would never have made her such a scene as this, — he knew how to love ! And de Marsay, that terrible de Marsay whom all the world thinks so tigerish, is one of those strong souls who are rough with men, but all delicacy The Gallery of Antiquities. 109 with women. Montriveau crushed underfoot poor Antoinette de Langeais, as Othello killed Desdemona, in a fit of anger, which only proved his love, — not meanly, in a petty quarrel! There's pleasure in being bruised in that way ! But all small, fair, thin, slim men like to torture women ; they can only reign over such weak beiugs ; the tyranny of love is their only chance of power. Why had she ever put herself under the dominion of such a man? De Marsay, Montriveau, Vandenesse, those handsome brown men, had sunlight in their eyes." A storm of such sarcasms whistled round him like bullets. Diane delivered three arrows in each speech ; she humiliated, she piqued, she wounded as a dozen savages know how to wound an enemy they have tied to a stake. The count at last cried out, in fury, "You are crazy ! " and rushed out, Heaven knows in what a state ! He drove his horse unconscious where he went ; he jostled other carriages and struck against a post in the Place Louis XV., until at last his horse, feeling that no one held him, ran off along the Quai d'Orsay to his stable. As he turned into the rue de riJniversite, the cabriolet was stopped by Josephin. " Monsieur," said the old servant, with a terrified look, " you cannot go home, the officers are there to arrest you." ' Victurnien supposed the arrest to be in consequence of his draft on the Kellers, not reflecting that it could not possibly have got into the hands of the law by that time. The cause was, of course, the notes he had drawn on the various bankers, which after going 110 The Gallery of Antiquities. through the usual legal process were now in the hands of the commercial police, with an accompaniment of gendarmes and other representatives of social order. But, like most criminals, Victurnien thought only of his crime. " I am lost ! " he cried. 4 ' No, Monsieur le comte, drive on ; go to the hotel du Bon La Fontaine, rue de Grenelle. You will find Mademoiselle there ; the horses are put to her carriage ; she is expecting you, and will take you at once out of Paris." In his trouble Victurnien seized this plank offered to his hand in the midst of the shipwreck. He drove to the hotel, found his aunt, who was weeping like a Magdalen as if she were the accomplice of her nephew's misdeeds. They both got into Mademoiselle Armande's carriage, and a few moments later they were out of Paris on the road to Brest. Victurnien, completely broken down, was silent; and when at last the aunt and nephew said a few words to each other, they were still misled b} T the quiproquo which had flung Victurnien into his aunt's arms. The nephew was think- ing of his forgery ; the aunt, of his debts and the bills of exchange. " Do you know all, aunt? " he asked. "Yes, my poor child; but we are here. At this moment I will not scold you; take courage." " I must hide myself." 44 Perhaps. Yes, the idea is a good one." 44 If I could enter Chesnel's house without being seen — We might manage to arrive in the middle of the night." The Gallery of Antiquities. Ill "It would be better; we should be more able to conceal the affair from my brother. My poor angel! how he suffers ! " she said, caressing her unworthy nephew. 44 Oh ! I now understand dishonor, — it has chilled my love." "Unhappy boy! so much happiness, and so much misery ! " Mademoiselle Armande held the burning head of her nephew upon her breast ; she kissed that forehead bathed in sweat notwithstanding the cold, as the saintly women kissed the brow of the Christ when they wrapped him in his shroud. By her excellent management, the prodigal son was brought to Ches- nel's peaceful house at midnight ; but chance provided that by going there he was flung, as the proverb says, into the jaws of the wolf. Chesnel, the evening before, had sold his practice to the head clerk of Monsieur Lepressoir, the notary of the liberals, as he himself was the notary of the aristocrats. This young man belonged to a family rich enough to give Chesnel one hundred thousand francs on account for the purchase. 44 With one hundred thousand francs," thought the worthy man, rubbing his hands, "we can wipe out many debts. The young count must owe to usurers ; we '11 shut him up here, and I '11 go to Paris and com- promise with those dogs." Chesnel, the honest, virtuous Chesnel, called the legitimate creditors of the family darling " dogs ! ' The new notary was leaving the rue du Bercail, after making these arrangements, just as the carriage of 112 The Gallery of Antiquities. Mademoiselle Armande entered it. The natural curi- osity of the young man, who saw at that hour a travel- ling carriage drawing up before the door of the old notary, was sufficiently aroused to induce him. to stop in the shadow of a doorway and watch the result. He recognized Mademoiselle Armande. "Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon here, — at this hour! What can have happened to the d'Esgrignons ? " he thought. When Chesnel, who came to his door, saw Made- moiselle Armande, he received her mysteriously, putting out the light he held in his hand. Seeing Victurnien, the good man understood the matter. He looked up and down the street, thought it deserted, and made a sign to the young count, who sprang from the carriage into the courtyard. In that moment all was lost. Victurnien's hiding-place was known to Chesnel's successor. " Oh ! Monsieur le comte ! " cried the old man, when Victurnien was installed in a chamber within Chesnel's study, where no one could enter without passing over the body of that faithful guardian. " Yes, monsieur," replied the young man, compre- hending the exclamation of his old friend, "I did not listen to you, and now I have fallen into a pit — where I shall perish." "No, no!" said Chesnel, looking triumphantly at Mademoiselle Armande and the count; "I have sold my practice. I have worked long and I was thinking it was time to retire. To-morrow, at twelve o'clock, I shall have a hundred thousand francs with which we can soon settle matters. Mademoiselle," he continued, The Gallery of Antiquities. 11 Q "you must be tired; go home now and go to bed. We will attend to business to-morrow." "Is he safe? " she asked, looking at Victurnien. " Yes," said the old man. She kissed her nephew, left a few tears on his fore- head, and went away. 8 114 The Gallery of Ayitiquities. VIII. CHESNEL TO THE RESCUE. " My dear Chesnel, what good will your hundred thousand francs do in my present situation ? " said the count to his old friend, when his aunt had left them. " I think you don't know the extent of my disaster." Victurnien explained his deed. Chesnel was horror- struck. Without the strength his devotion gave him he would have broken down completely under the blow. Two streams of tears flowed from his eyes, so long dry. He was childish for a few moments ; during those moments he was beside himself, like a man whose house is burning and who sees through a window the cradle of his child on fire and the flames lapping his hair. He stood up, seemed to grow taller, raised his aged hands, and waved them with insane, despairing gestures. " May your father die in ignorance of this, young man. It is enough to be a forger; God grant you be not a parricide. Fly? No; you would be condemned by default. Unhappy boy, why not have forged my signature? I would have paid ; that paper would never have fallen into the hands of the law. I can do nothing more. You have driven me to the last corner of hell. Du Croisier ! our worst enemy ! What will become of us? What can be done? If you had killed a man The Gallery of Antiquities. 115 there might be some excuse, but forgery ! forgery ! And time is going, time is going !" he cried, point- ing with a frantic gesture to the old clock. "We must forge a passport — one crime leads to another. We must — " He paused, and then added, "Before all else, we must save the house of Esgrignon." " The money is still with Madame de Maufrigneuse," said Victurnien. " Ah ! " cried Chesnel. " Well, there 's a faint hope in that. Could we only soften du Croisier, buy him off ; he shall have every penny of the family. I '11 go to him now; I'll wake him up, and offer all. Besides, it was not you who committed the deed, it shall be I — I will go to the galleys — No, I have passed the age for the galleys, they can only send me to prison." "But the body of the draft is in my handwriting," said Victurnien, not amazed at the insane devotion of the old man. "Idiot! — ah! forgive me, Monsieur le comte. You ought to have made Josephin write it," cried the old notary, beside himself. " He 's a good fellow, he 'd have taken all upon himself. Ah ! it is all over ; the earth is crumbling at our feet," he continued, sitting down. "Du Croisier is a tiger; we must not rouse him. What o'clock is it? Where is the draft? If it is in Paris we can buy it back of the Kellers ; they would agree to it. All is peril, peril ! one false step would ruin us! In any case we must have that money. Let no one know you are here ; live in the cellar if necessary. As for me, I am going to Paris, now, at once ; the mail-coach from Brest will be here in an hour." 116 The Gallery of Antiquities. Instantly the old man recovered the faculties of his youth, agility and vigor. He hastily made a bundle of clothes, took some money, put a loaf of bread in the lit- tle room, and shut the door on the child of his adoption. "No noise," he said. '* Stay there till my return; burn no light, or you will go to the galleys. Do you hear me, Monsieur le comte? I say the galleys, if in a town like ours a single soul knows } T ou are here." Then the old man left the house, after telling his housekeeper to say that he was ill, and to send away all visitors, put off all household affairs for three days, and keep the door locked. Then he went to the post- master and told him a tale — for he seemed to have the genius of a novelist — by which he obtained permis- sion to depart without a passport. Fortunately for him the mail coach was empty. Arriving the next night in Paris, Chesnel was with the Kellers the following morning by nine o'clock, and there learned that the fatal draft had been returned to du Croisier. While making these inquiries, he was careful to say nothing compromising, but before leav- ing he asked the bankers whether, in case the money were paid to them, they would send for the paper and return it to him. Francois Keller replied that the draft was the property of du Croisier, and he alone could return it, or keep it, as he chose. The despair- ing old man then went to the duchess. At that hour Madame de Maufrigneuse received no one. Chesnel, knowing that time was precious, sat down in the antechamber, wrote a few lines which he entreated, implored, persuaded the most inaccessible of lacqueys to carry in to her. On receiving it, the The G-allery of Antiquities. 117 duchess, although she was still in bed, gave orders, to the great astonishment of her servants, that an old man in black breeches, ribbed socks, and shoe-buckles, should be admitted. "What is it, monsieur?" she said, assuming an attitude even in her night-dress. " What does that ungrateful young man desire of me?" " This, Madame la duchesse," cried the old notary; " you have three hundred thousand francs of ours." " Yes," she said, " and what of that? " "That sum is the result of a forgery which will send us to the galleys, and we committed it for love of you," said Chesnel, vehemently. " How could you fail to kuow it, you, so clever? You ought to have ques- tioned him on the spot about that money, and saved him while there was yet time. Now, God grant that the evil be not irreparable ! We need your influence with the king." At the first words, which explained to her the affair, the duchess felt ashamed of her conduct with such a lover, and feared to be suspected of complicity. In her desire to show that the money was intact, she forgot the proprieties, and flinging off the silken quilt, she ran to her writing-table, passing the old notary like one of those angels which dart across Lamartine's vignettes ; then she returned, blushing, to her bed, after giving the bank-bills to Chesnel. "You are an angel, madame," he said. (She was fated to be an angel to every one.) " But this is not enough. I rely on your support to save us." " To save you ! " she cried ; " I will do it, or perish. A man must love well not to shrink from a crime. 118 The Gallery of Antiquities. Ah ! for what sort of woman was such a thing clone ! Poor boy ! Go, don't lose a moment's time, dear Monsieur Chesnel. Rely upon me as you would upon yourself." "Madame la duchesse ! Madame la duchesse ! " The old notary could say nothing beyond those words ; he was overcome. He wept, he would fain have danced, but he feared to go quite mad and he restrained himself. " Together we can save him," he said as he left her. Chesnel went to- Victurnien's house to find Josephin, who opened for him the secretary and writing-table that held the papers of the young count, where he fortunately found letters from du Croisier and the Kellers which might prove useful. Then he took a seat in the diligence, which started immediately. He paid the postilions to make the lumbering vehicle go at the pace of a mail-coach, and the distance was rapidly covered. The notary returned to the rue du Bercail after three days' absence — alas! too late. As he entered the street, Chesnel saw the gendarmes at his .gate, and when he reached it the young count was in the courtyard, arrested ! Assuredly, if he had had the power, Chesnel would have killed the police and the soldiers ; but he was helpless, and could only fling himself on Victurnien's neck. " If I do not succeed in smothering this matter, you must kill yourself before the indictment is found," he whispered in the young man's ear. Victurnien was so completely stupefied that he could only look at the notary without comprehending him. The Gallery of Antiquities. 119 " Kill myself? " he repeated. " Yes. If you have not the courage, count on me, my child," replied Chesnel, pressing his hand. He remained, in spite of the anguish the sight caused him, standing on his trembling legs, gazing at the son of his heart, the Comte d'Esgrignon, the heir of the great family, being marched away between two gen- darmes followed by the commissary of police, the juge de paix, and the court sheriff. The old man did not re- cover his nerve and his presence of mind until the group had disappeared and the silence was no longer broken by the sound of retreating steps. " Monsieur, you '11 take cold," said Brigitte. " The devil take you! " cried the notary, savagely. Brigitte, who had never heard such language in all the twenty-nine years she had lived with Chesnel, let fall her candle. But her master, taking no notice of her fright, suddenly started forth and began to run toward the Val-Noble. "He's mad," thought she, " and it is no wonder! But where is he going? I can't follow him. What will become of him? Will he drown himself?" Brigitte awoke the head-clerk and sent him to watch the banks of the river, lately made cruelly notorious by the suicide of a young man full of promise, and the recent death of a poor seduced young girl. Chesnel, however, had gone to du Croisier's house. There lay, he thought, the last hope. The crime of forgery can only be proceeded against on the complaint of private persons. If du Croisier could be brought to consent it was still possible to pass off the arrest as a misunderstanding. Chesnel hoped to buy the man. 120 The Gallery of Antiquities. During the preceding evening more persons than usual had called upon Monsieur and Madame du Croisier. Though the affair had been kept a secret be- tween the chief-justice, Monsieur du Ronceret, Monsieur Sauvager, deputy -procureur-du-roi, and Monsieur du Coudrai, lately keeper of the records, the former had whispered it to one or two intimate friends. The news had therefore spread through the society of the lesser nobility and the bourgeoisie, who were drawn to du Croisier's house by curiosity. They all felt the gravity of such an event and dared not speak of it openly. The attachment of Madame du Croisier to the higher nobility was too well-known to allow of their gossip- ing of a disaster to the d'Esorionons and asking ex- planations in her presence. Those most interested waited the hour when the good Madame du Croisier retired to her own bedroom, where she fulfilled her evening religious duties secure from the eyes of her husband. The instant that the mistress of the house had dis- appeared, the adherents of du Croisier who knew the sentiments of their host, looked round at one another. They saw in the salon certain persons whose opin- ions or interests made them suspected, and they con- tinued to play. At half-past eleven o'clock, however, no one remained but the faithful, — namely, Monsieur Sauvager, Monsieur Camnsot, the examining-judge and his wife, Monsieur and Madame du Ronceret and their son Fabien, Monsieur and Madame du Coudrai, and Joseph Blondet, eldest son of an old judge, — in all, ten persons. It is told that Talleyrand, on a fatal night, at three The Gallery of Antiquities. 121 in the morning, while playing cards at the house of the Duchesse de Lnynes, stopped the game, laid his watch on the table, and asked the players if the Prince de Conde had any other child than the Due d'Enghien. " Why do you ask a thing you know so well? " said Madame de Luynes. "Because if the prince has no other children, the house of Conde is at an end." After a short silence, he took up his cards and went on with the game. Monsieur du Ronceret now did something of the kind, — whether it was that he knew that historical in- cident, or that small minds resemble great ones in the expressions of political life. He looked at his watch and said, interrupting the game : — " Monsieur le Comte d'Esgrignon is now being ar- rested, and that proud house is disgraced." "Have you really laid hands on the boy?" cried du Coudrai, joyously. All present, except the chief-justice, the assistant- procureur, and du Croisier, showed signs of astonish- ment. "He has just been arrested in Chesnel's house, where he was hiding," said the assistant-proc?ow//\ with the air of a capable but neglected man, who ought by rights to be minister of police. This Monsieur Sauvager, assistant-procure?^, was a young man twenty-five j^ears old, tall and thin, with a long, sallow face, black, crinkled hair, and sunken eyes with a dark half-circle beneath them, the same repeated above by his brown and wrinkled eyelids. He had a nose like the beak of a bird of prey, a pinched mouth, 122 The Gallery of Antiquities. cheeks flattened by study and hollow with ambition. He was the type of those beings who are ever on the watch for chances, ready to do anything that would bring him success, yet always keeping within the limits of the allowable and the decorum of legality. The news seemed more especially to surprise the examining-judge, Monsieur Camusot, who, on the re- quisition of Sauvager, had signed the warrant of arrest so promptly executed. Camusot was a man about thirty years of age, short, already fat, fair, and flabby, with the livid complexion of most magistrates who sit cooped up in their court-rooms and offices. He had light yellow eyes full of that distrust which passes for caution. Madame Camusot looked at her husband as if she would say, " Did n't I tell you so? " " So the affair will really proceed? " he said. "Why should you doubt it?" replied du Coudrai ; " the count's arrest decides it." " There 's the jury to be considered. In this affair the prefect is very likely to take advantage of objec- tions on both sides and make it up of men who will favor an acquittal. My advice is to compromise." " Compromise ! " cried the chief-justice ; " why, the affair is already before the court." " Acquitted or condemned, Comte d'Esgrignon is none the less disgraced," said the assistant-proc^re^r. " I am the complainant," said du Croisier ; " I shall employ the elder Dupin. We '11 see if the house of Esgriguon can get out of his clutches. " " They know how to defend themselves ; they '11 send to Paris for a barrister, — Berryer, perhaps," said The Gallery of Antiquities. 123 Madame Camusot. "You'll see they'll give you tit for tat." Du Croisier, Sauvager, and du Ronceret all three looked at the examining-judge, struck with the same idea. The tone and manner in which the young wife flung her proverb in the face of the eight persons who were plotting the fall of the house of Esgrignon caused them an emotion which each endeavored to hide, like true provincials in whom there still remains much of monkish life. Little Madame Camusot observed the change that came over the faces present at the suggestion of a probable opposition to du Croisier's scheme. Seeing that her husband had betrayed his secret thoughts, she became anxious to fathom the depth of these hatreds, and to discover by what bait du Croisier had influenced the assistant-procure^* to act with such haste and in a manner so contrary to the views of the government. " At any rate," she said, " if this affair brings down any of the celebrated lawyers of Paris, it will give us some very interesting sessions in the court of assizes. But you may be sure the matter will drop between the justice court and the royal court. The government will do all it can secretly to save a j'oung man belong- ing to the great families, and a friend of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. Therefore I predict we shall have no scandal about it." " How you run on, madame ! " said the chief- justice, severely. "Do you suppose that the court which examines into the affair in the first instance can be in- fluenced by considerations outside of the law? ' " Facts prove the contrary," she replied maliciously, 124 The Gallery of Antiquities. looking straight at the chief-justice and the assistant- procureur, who replied to the look with a stony stare. " Explain yourself, madame," said Sauvager. il You speak as if we were not doing our duty." " My wife's words are of no consequence," inter- posed Cam u sot. " But those of the chief-justice prejudge, as I think, a case which has not yet been examined," she said. " The examination has not been made, and the court has rendered no decision on the question of indictment." " We are not at the Palais," said the assistant- procureur, sharply. " Besides, we know all that." " Well, the procureur-du-roi as yet knows nothing," she retorted, looking at Sauvager satirically. " He '11 come down from the Chamber of Deputies in all haste. You have cut him out a little work, and he will no doubt have a word to say about it." The bushy eyebrows of the assistant^rocureur frowned heavily, and those present saw written on his forehead the signs of a tardy regret. Silence fol- lowed, during which no sound was heard but the tak- ing up and throwing down of cards. Monsieur and Madame Camusot, who saw that they were very coldly treated, went away to leave the conspirators at their ease. " Camusot," said his wife, as soon as they were in the street, "you went ahead too fast. Why did you let those people suspect you did not share their schemes? — they '11 play you some evil trick." " How can they injure me? I am the only examin- ing- judge." The Gallery of Antiquities. 125 " Can't they slander yon underhand and get you dismissed? " At that instant the couple were violently jostled by Chesnel. The old notary recognized the examining- judge. With the clear-sightedness of a man long trained to manage all sorts of interests, he felt that the fate of the Esgriguon family lay in the hands of this young man. "Ah, monsieur!" he exclaimed, "we need you very much. Let me say a word in your ear. Pardon me, madame," he added to the judge's wife, dragging her husband away from her. Like the good conspirator that she was, Madame Camusot looked toward the Croisier house in order to break up the interview if any one should come out of it; but, as she rightly supposed, they were all too deeply occupied in discussing the suggestions she had thrown among them to break up as yet. Chesnel drew the judge into a dark corner of the street, beside a wall, and said in his ear: — "The support and influence of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, the Prince de Cadignan, the Dues de Navarreins and de Lenoncourt, the Keeper of the Seals, the chancellor, the king, are all yours if you stand by the house of Esgrignon. I have just come from Paris. I knew what had happened, and I went to explain it to the court. "We count on you, and you may rely on me for secrecy. If you are inimical to us, I will return to Paris and lay a complaint in the hands of his Highness, stating legitimate suspicions as to the integrity of your court, several members of whom have spent the evening at the house of the complainant, 126 The Gallery of Antiquities. du Croisier, and have drunk and eaten there in defiance of the law." Chesnel would have invoked the help of the Father Eternal could he have managed it. He left the judge without waiting for an answer, and darted like a deer to du Croisier's house. Summoned by his wife to repeat to her the notary's words, the judge obeyed, and was immediately assailed with the customary speech : — "Didn't I tell you so, my friend?" — a speech which women also utter when they are wrong ; but then they say it much more vehemently. Chesnel encountered the group of his enemies on du Croisier's threshold, just starting to go home. "Open, in the king's name," he said to the servant who was locking the vestibule door. He had just used the king's name to the examining- judge ; the word still stuck upon his lips ; he was half delirious. The door opened. The notary rushed like a thunderbolt into the antechamber. " My lad," he said to the footman, " a hundred francs for you if you will wake up Madame du Croisier and send her down to me at once. Tell her what you like." Chesnel, excited as he was, became suddenly calm and cold as the door opened into the brilliant salon where du Croisier was walking up and down. The two men measured each other for an instant with a look which had in it twenty years of hatred and enmity. One had his foot upon the heart of the house of Esgrignon, the other was advancing with the force of a lion to drive him from it. " Monsieur," said Chesnel, "I salute you humbly. Is your complaint lodged?" The Gallery of Antiquities. 127 " Yes, monsieur." " Since when?" " Since yesterday." " No other writ has been issued but the warrant of arrest?" " I think not," replied du Croisier. " I have come to negotiate." "The affair is before the court; the prosecution must take its course ; nothing can now arrest it." u No matter for that — I am here, at your orders, at your feet." The old man fell upon his knees and stretched out his supplicating hands. " What is it you want? " he said. " Our property? our chateau? Take all, everything, withdraw your complaint, and leave us life and honor. In addition to what I offer, I will be your servant, you shall dispose of me as yon will." Du Croisier left the old man kneeling on the ground and took a chair. " You are not vindictive ; you will be kind ; you are not too bitter against us to come to some agreement," continued Chesnel. " Let the young man go free be- fore daylight." u The whole town knows of his arrest," said du Croi- sier, tasting the sweets of vengeance. "That is a great misfortune. But if there is no verdict, no proofs, we can still arrange matters." Du Croisier reflected. Chesnel thought that he was consulting his interests, and he hoped he could still hold his enemy by that great motor power of human actions. 128 The Gallery of Antiquities. At this crucial moment Madame du Croisier entered the room. "Madame, help me to soften your husband," said Chesnel, still on his knees. Madame du Croisier raised the old man, testifying the utmost surprise. Chesnel related the affair. When the noble daughter of the follower of the Due d'Alencon knew the circumstances, she turned with tearful eyes to her husband. "Ah, monsieur! can you hesitate? The d'Esgri- gnons ! the honor of the province ! " she said to him. " That has nothing to do with it ! " cried du Croisier, rising, and walking up and down. "Nothing to do with it!" echoed Chesnel, aston- ished. "Monsieur Chesnel, the question concerns France; it concerns the nation, the people. It is a question of teaching your nobles that there are such things as jus- tice, laws, a bourgeoisie, and a lesser nobility, which is worth far more than they, and will control them. They must be taught that they cannot destroy ten fields of wheat to course one hare, nor dishonor families by seducing poor girls, nor despise those who are better men than they, without such acts swelling to an ava- lanche which will descend and crush and bury them, nobles though they be. You want a return to the old order of things ; you want to tear up the social com- pact, the Charter in which our rights are written." " Go on," said Chesnel. " We have a sacred mission to enlighten the people," continued du Croisier. "It will open their eyes to the morality of your side when they see the nobles in the The Gallery of Antiquities. 129 prisoners' dock like Jack and Peter. They will say to themselves that poor men who have honor are worth far more than great men who dishonor themselves. The court of assizes sheds light on these matters. I am here as the defender of the people, the friend of law and justice. You have yourself twice cast me over to the people's side, first by rejecting my alliance, and next by denying me an entrance to your society. You are only reaping that you sowed." This outburst alarmed Chesnel as well as Madame du Croisier. The wife acquired a horrible knowledge of her husband's character; that speech was a gleam cast not only upon the past, but on the future. It seemed impossible to bring this colossus to terms, but Chesnel would not yield to the impossible. "Oh, monsieur! if you will not forgive, how can you be a Christian?" said Madame du Croisier. " I forgive as God forgives, madame, on conditions." "What are they?" asked Chesnel, who thought he saw a ray of hope. "The elections are coming on; I want the votes your party controls." "You shall have them," said Chesnel. "I wish to be received, my wife and I, familiarly, every evening, in a friendly manner, or apparently so, by the Marquis d'Esgrignon and his circle." "I don't know how we can bring him to consent, but it shall be done." " I wish a bond for four hundred thousand francs based on an agreement in writing which shall relate the circumstances of this affair, in order to make sure of your fulfilling these pledges." 9 130 The Gallery of Antiquities. "We consent," said Chesnel, not revealing the fact that he had three hundred thousand francs then upon him. "But the paper must be placed in the hands of third parties and returned to the family after your elec- tion and the payment of the money." " No, not until after the marriage of my grandniece, Mademoiselle Duval, who may one day be the heiress of four millions. That young woman shall be made my heiress and that of my wife in her marriage con- tract, and you are to arrange her marriage with your young count." "Never! " cried Chesnel. "Never?" returned du Croisier, rejoicing in his triumph. "Then good-night!" "Fool that I am!" thought Chesnel ; "why did I shrink from lying to such a man ? " Du Croisier went off, happy in sacrificing all to his wounded pride, in beholding the humiliation of the old man, in controlling the fate of the noble family which represented in itself the aristocracy of the province, and in printing the mark of his boot-heel on their vitals. He went to his bedroom, leaving his wife with Chesnel. In his mad joy he saw nothing to mar his triumph ; he believed firmly that the three hundred thousand francs were spent. To obtain that sum, the d'Esgrignons must sell or mortgage their entire property. To his mind nothing could save 'the count from the court of assizes. Forgeries can always be hushed up if the money is returned. The victims of this crime are usually rich persons who do not care to be the ruin of some imprudent man. But du Croisier would not resign his rights without some good equivalent. He The Gallery of Antiquities. 131 went to bed, therefore, thinking of the magnificent accomplishment of his hopes, either by the court of assizes or by means of this marriage, and he pleased himself by thinking of Chesnel lamenting over the alternative with his wife. Deeply religious and Catholic, a royalist, and attached to the nobility, Madame du Croisier shared the feelings of Chesnel in relation to the d'Esgrignons. Therefore her heart had been cruelly wrung by her husband's words. This good ro3 T alist had now heard the howling of liberalism, which, in the opinion of her confessor, aimed at the destruction of Catholicism. To her the Left side meant 1793, with its riots and scaffolds. "What would your uncle say, that saint who is now listening to us? " said Chesnel. [See "An Old Maid."] Madame du Croisier replied by the large tears which rolled from her eyes. " You have already caused the death of a poor young man, and the lifelong grief of his mother," continued Chesnel, observing that he struck true (he would have struck until he crushed that heart to save Victurnien) ; "will you also kill Mademoiselle Armande, who could never survive the infamy of her family? "Will you kill poor Chesnel, your old notary, who is prepared to poison the young count in his prison before he can be indicted, and then to kill himself rather than be tried as a murderer? " "My friend, enough! enough! I am capable of anything, of everything, to hush up this miserable affair ; but I did not know Monsieur du Croisier until this moment. To you I may speak frankly ; there is no hope." 132 The Gallery of Antiquities. " But suppose a way were found? " " I would give half my blood to have it so," she said, with a motion of her head which plainly showed a desire to seize it. Like the First Consul, who, defeated at Marengo until five in the evening, at six obtained a victory through the desperate attack of Desaix and the ter- rible charge of Keller mann, Chesnel perceived the elements of triumph amid the ruins. It needed Chesnel, it needed an old notary, it needed the illumi- nation of despair, to make this old man as great as Napoleon, nay, greater; for this battle was not Marengo, but Waterloo, and Chesnel was resolved to conquer the Prussians as they advanced. " Madame, you who have trusted me with your affairs for the last twenty years, you who do honor to the bourgeoisie as the d'Esgrignons do honor to the nobility of this province, hear me say that on you alone depends the salvation of the house of Esgrignon. Answer me ! Will you allow the memory of your uncle, the d'Esgrignons, your poor Chesnel, to be dis- graced forever? Will you kill Mademoiselle Armande, who will weep herself away? Or will you redeem the wrong you have done and rejoice the souls of your ancestors, those faithful servants of the dukes of Alencon, by comforting the departed spirit of our dear abbe ? — who if he could rise from his grave would bid you do that which I ask of you on my knees." " What is it? " cried Madame du Croisier. " This," he said, " here are the three hundred thou- sand francs," taking the bank-bills from his pocket. " Accept them, and that ends the matter." The Gallery of Antiquities. 183 " If that is all," she said, " if no harm can result to my husband — " "Nothing but good can result," he cried, interrupt- ing her. " You will spare him the eternal torments of hell at the cost of a slight disappointment here below." " You are sure he will not be compromised? " Chesnel read to the bottom of the soul of this poor woman. Madame du Croisier hesitated between two religions, — between the commands the Church has given to wives, and her duties to the throne and altar. She thought her husband blamable, but dared not blame him ; she wanted to save the d'Esgrignons, but wanted also to do nothing against the interests of her husband. "In no way," replied Chesnel; "your old notary swears it on the Holy Gospel." Chesnel had nothing left to sacrifice to the house of Esgrignon but his eternal salvation, and he now risked that by uttering a lie. But he knew he must either deceive Madame du Croisier or perish. He now rapidly wrote down and dictated to Madame du Croisier a receipt for three hundred thousand francs, dating it five days before the fatal forgery, at a time when, as he remembered, du Croisier had been absent from the town. "Promise me," said Chesnel, when Madame du Croisier held the money and he the receipt, " that you will declare to the examining-judge that you received the money on the da} 7 named." " But will not that be a lie? " " Only a formality." " I cannot do it without consulting my confessor." 134 The Gallery of Antiquities. "Very good," said Chesnel ; "do nothing in this affair but what he advises." " I will promise that." " Don't give the money to Monsieur du Croisier un- til after you have appeared before the examining- judge." " No," she said. " Alas ! may God give me strength to appear before human justice to uphold a lie ! " Chesnel kissed her hand and then rose up majesti- cally, like those prophets of old, as we see them painted by Raffaelle in the Vatican. "The soul of your uncle quivers with joy," he said. "You have forever effaced the wrong } 7 ou did us in marrying an enemy of the throne and altar." These words forcibly affected the timorous soul of Madame du Croisier. Chesnel had suddenly bethought himself of making sure of the Abbe Couturier, the director of Madame du Croisier's conscience. He well knew with what pertinacity religious bigots work for the triumph of their ideas when they have once taken sides for their party, and he saw the importance of speedily drawing the Church into the struggle on the d'Esgrignon side. He therefore went straight to the hotel d'Esgrignon, asked to have Mademoiselle CJ cj ' Armande wakened, told her the events of the evening, and begged her to see the bishop early in the morning, and bring the prelate himself to the battlefield on her side. "O God! save the house of Esgrignon ! " cried Chesnel, as he returned to his home with dragging steps. " The matter is now a judicial battle. We are in presence of men who have passions and interests. The Gallery of Antiquities. 135 From such men, all can be obtained. Du Croisier has profited by the absence of the procureur-diir-roi, now in Paris for the opening of the Chambers ; he would have been devoted to us. How did they manage to gain over his substitute? What did they promise Sauvager to induce him to hurry this thing through without con- sulting his chief? To-morrow morning I must pene- trate that mystery. I will study the ground ; and perhaps, if I can lay my hand on the threads of the plot, I '11 go back to Paris and appeal to the higher powers through Madame de Maufrigneuse." Such were the inward arguments of the poor old athlete who saw so true, and who now went to bed, half dead with the burden of so much emotion and such bodily fatigue. Nevertheless, before he went to sleep, he went over in his mind the personality of all the magistrates composing the court, with a scrutinizing eye to their secret ambitions, endeavoring to see what were his chances in the struggle and how these men could be influenced. By giving in a succinct form the long examination of consciences made by Chesnel, we may perhaps present a faithful picture of the provincial magistracy. 136 The Crallery of Antiquities. IX. A PROVINCIAL COURT. The judges and other officers of the Royal courts, forced to begin their career in the provinces, where all judiciary ambitions are nursed, look to Paris as their goal ; they all aspire to shine on that vast stage where great political causes are tried, or where the magis- tracy deals with the palpitating interests of society. But this paradise of men of law admits but few elect ; nine-tenths of the magistrates find themselves doomed for life to the provinces. Thus we find in all the Royal provincial courts two well-defined parties, — that of high ambitions, weary of hoping, content at last with the extreme deference shown in the provinces to all magistrates,- or else sleepily dulled by a quiet life ; and that of young men, or men of real talent, in whom the desire to attain success is lessened by no dis- appointments, and whom the thirst for success torments perpetually, giving a sort of fanaticism to their lay priesthood. At the period of which we write, these ardent ambi- tions, stimulated by the great struggle of parties, and convinced of the necessity of monarchizing France, were lucid, foreseeing, and clear-sighted ; they watched the populations rigorously, and coerced them into the path of obedience from which they were not to devi- The Gallery of Antiquities. 137 ate. Courts of justice, fanaticized by their monar- chical faith, repaired the wrongs of the old Parliaments, going hand in hand, too ostensibly perhaps, with reli- gion. They were, indeed, more zealous than wise, and sinned less through Machiavellianism than through the sincerity of their views, which seemed hostile to the general interests of France, while they were really try- ing to guard the country from future revolutions. Still, taken in its entirety, the magistracy contained too many bourgeois elements, it was too accessible to the petty passions of liberalism, to escape becoming, sooner or later, constitutional, and falling into line with the bourgeoisie whenever a real struggle came. In this great bod} 7 , as in the government itself, there was much hypocrisy, or, to express it better, a spirit of imitation which has always led France to model itself upon the Court, and thus mislead it very innocently. These two judicial classes existed in the court which was now to decide the fate of young d'Esgrignon. The chief-justice, du Ronceret, and an old judge named Blond et, represented the magistracy, resigned to be what they were, settled for life in their own town. The young and ambitious class counted among its members, Monsieur Camusot, the examining- judge, and Monsieur Michu, appointed a substitute-judge through the influence of the Cinq-Cygne family, with the promise of promotion on the first occasion offered to the Royal court of Paris. Monsieur du Ronceret, secure of his place by reason of the irremovability of sitting judges, finding himself not received by the aristocracy of the town, took sides with the bourgeoisie, giving to his disappointment the 138 The Gallery of Antiquities. varnish of independence, not seeing that such a course would condemn him to remain where he was for the rest of his life. Once committed to this course, he was led by the logic of things to rest his hopes on the triumph of du Croisier and the Left side. But he satis- fied neither side. Compelled to appear on good terms with the government, he was suspected by the liberals. He had no place in either party, and found himself before long playing a secondary role, and totally with- out influence. The falseness of this position reacted on his character ; he was sour and discontented. Sick of such political nonentity, he was now secretly resolved to put himself at the head of the liberal party, and to share du Croisier's dominion over it. His behavior in the affair of Comte d'Esgrignon was his first step in this direction. The chief-justice was a tall, thin man with a retreat- ing forehead, grayish chestnut hair, greenish eyes, a blotched skin, and lips tightly compressed. His wheezy voice had the choked utterance of asthma. He had taken to wife a solemn, loose-jointed, tall woman, who affected the most ridiculous fashions, and bedizened herself excessively. Madame du Ronceret gave her- self the airs of a queen. She wore high colors, and never appeared at a ball without being topped by one of those turbans so dear to Englishwomen, which French provincial women also cultivate and love. Between them the husband and wife could muster an income of twelve thousand francs. In spite of a ten- dency to meanness, they received once a week, in order to satisfy their vanity by maintaining a social position. Three card-tables, with green baize covers rather worn, The Gallery of Antiquities. 139 and a backgammon board, sufficed for the entertain- ment of the company, to whom Madame du Ronceret accorded cider, short-cake, chestnuts, glasses of eau- sucree, and of orgeat made by herself. Of late she had adopted once a fortnight the fashion of tea, accom- panied with confectionery of a piteous description. Every three months the du Roncerets gave a great dinner of three courses, much talked of in the town, served on miserable china, but cooked with the science that distinguishes the provinces. This gargantuesque repast lasted six hours. Thus life and its accessories in the house of the chief-justice was in keeping with his character and his false position. He felt unpleasantly in his own home without knowing why ; but he dared not make an outlay to improve the state of things, lest it should diminish the five or six thousand francs he laid by yearly, in order to marry his son Fabien, a youth who refused to be a magistrate, or a barrister, or a gov- ernment official, and whose idleness exasperated his father. On the score of this son, the chief- justice was in rivalry with his assistant chief-justice, Monsieur Blon- det, an old judge who had long been endeavoring to ally his son with the Blandureau family. These rich linen merchants had an only daughter to whom the chief-justice wished to marry Fabien. As the marriage of Joseph Blondet depended on his appointment to the functions of substitute-judge, which old Blondet hoped to obtain bv giving; in his own resignation, the cbief- justice du Ronceret hampered the old man's efforts in an underhand way, and secretly made advances to the 140 The Gallery of Antiquities. Blandureaus. Possibly if it had not been for this affair of Comte d'Esgrignon, the Blondets might have been supplanted by the astute chief- justice, whose fortune was much superior to that of his competitor. The old judge, Monsieur Blondet, one of those curious figures hidden in the provinces like coins in a crypt, was then about sixty-seven years of age. He carried his age well ; he was tall, and his neck and shoulders recalled those of the canons in the good old times. His face, marked with countless pits of the small-pox, which had injured the shape of his nose and turned it into the likeness of a gimlet, was not without dignity. A ruddy color was evenly distributed all over it, and it was animated by two bright little eyes habitually satirical, and by a certain sardonic move- ment of his purplish lips. Having been a barrister before the Revolution, he was made during the troubles a public prosecutor ; but he was much the gentlest of those terrible functionaries. The " goodman Blondet," as he was called, contrived to deaden the revolutionary action by acquiescing in everything and executing noth- ing. Compelled to imprison a few nobles, he delayed their trials until the 9th Thermidor with an ingenuity which won him universal esteem. Certainly the good man ought to have been chief- justice ; but he was set aside on the reconstruction of the courts by Napoleon, whose aversion to republicans appeared in every detail of his government. In spite of the Emperor's repugnance, the arch-chancellor, in the interest of the courts, maintained Blondet as judge, declaring that he was one of the ablest jurisconsults in France. His great talents, his knowledge of former The Gallery of Antiquities. 141 law, and now of the new legislation, would have led him to high honors in the end, but, like certain other great minds, he thought little of his judiciary knowledge, and devoted himself heart and soul to an occupation which had nothing to do with his profession, but to which he gave his ambition, his time, and his abilities. The old man loved horticulture passionately ; he was in correspondence with all the most celebrated ama- teurs ; he had the ambition to create new species ; he was interested in the discoveries of botany ; in short, he lived in a world of flowers. Like other florists, he had his predilections ; his chosen flower was the pelar- gonium. The court and its cases, in short, real life, was as nothing to him, compared with the life of fancy, full of emotions, in which he lived, more and more in love with his innocent sultanas. The care his garden needed, the sweet occupation his flowers gave him, tied the good soul to his greenhouse. Without that passion he would certainly have been elected deputy during the Empire and doubtless have shone brilliantly in the Legislative body. His marriage was another reason for this obscure life. At forty years of age he committed the folly of marrying a girl of eighteen, by whom he had in the first year of the marriage a son named Joseph. Three years later Madame Blondet, then the prettiest woman in the town, inspired the prefect of the department with a passion that ended only with her death. She had by the prefect, to the knowledge of every one and of Blondet himself, a second son named Emile. Madame Blondet, who might have stimulated her hus- band's ambition and dragged him away from his 142 The Gallery of Antiquities. flowers, only encouraged his taste for botany, not wish- ing to leave the town where the prefect lived. Incap- able at his age of entering upon a struggle with a young wife, the magistrate consoled himself in his greenhouse, taking a very pretty servant-girl to assist him in the care of his seraglio of beauties, which were constantly changing. While the judge repotted, transplanted, watered, layered, grafted, mated, and bunched his flowers, Madame Blondet spent her time and money on dress and fashions in order to shine in the salons of the pre- fecture ; one interest only, the education of Emile, diverted her mind from her passion, to which indeed he belonged. This child of love was as handsome and clever as Joseph was dull and ugly. The old judge, blinded by fatherly affection, loved Joseph as much as his wife loved Emile. For twelve years Monsieur Blondet's resignation was complete. He closed his eyes to his wife's conduct, preserving a dignified de- meanor, like the great seigneurs of the eighteenth cen- tury ; but, like other men of tranquil tastes, he nursed a deep though secret hatred to his youngest son. On the death of his wife, in 1818, he expelled the intruder by sending him to Paris to study law without other means than a stipend of twelve hundred francs a year, to which sum no entreaties or appeals could ever in- duce him to add a penny. If Emile Blondet had not found protection from his real father, he would cer- tainly have been ruined. Besides the old house in which he lived, where noth- ing had been changed for a century, the judge pos- sessed certain landed property which brought him in The Gallery of Antiquities. 143 about four thousand francs a year. His vengeance, which was really legitimate, consisted in making over his house and other property and his seat on the bench to his son Joseph. The whole town knew of his inten- tions. He had made a will in favor of that son, to whom he left all that the Code allows a father to give to one of his children to the detriment of the others. Driven thus from his so-called paternal home, Emile Blondet had managed to acquire a distinguished position in Paris, though the distinction was more mental than actual. His laziness, his easy indifference, and laisser-aller had been the despair of his real father, who, having been removed from his official position during one of the ministerial reactions of the Restora- tion, died almost ruined, and doubtful of the future of a son gifted by nature with the most brilliant qualities. Emile Blondet, however, was sustained by the friend- ship of a Demoiselle de Troisville married to the Comte de Montcornet, whom he had known before her mar- riage. His mother was still living at the time the Troisvilles returned from the emigration. Madame Blondet was connected with that family; distantly, to be sure, but enough so to introduce her son. Foresee- ing his future, that of an orphan at her death, the mother sought some protection for him. She con- trived to throw him familiarly with the eldest of the three Troisville daughters, whom he pleased exceed- ingly, although it was of course impossible that a Troisville should marry him. The tie between the pair was like that between Paul and Virginia. When, in her last illness, Madame Blondet heard of the mar- riage of Mademoiselle de Troisville to General Mont- 144 The Gallery of Antiquities. cornet, she made an effort to go to her, and prayed her, solemnly, never to abandon Emile, but to help him in the world of Paris to which the official rank and fortune of the general called her. Happily for him Emile was able to protect himself. At twenty he made his debut in literature with the hand of a master. His success was not less great in the choice social life to which his father introduced him, being able at first to supply him with luxuries. This precocious celebrity, and Emile's charming per- sonality, may have tightened the bonds of friendship which united him to the countess. Perhaps Madame de Montcornet, who had Russian blood in her veins (her mother was a Scherbellof), might have rebuffed the friend of her childhood, had he been poor and strug- gling with might and main against the obstacles of Parisian literary life ; but by the time Emile's reverses came the attachment between the two had grown to be unalterable. At the moment, however, when the young Comte d'Esgrignon first met Emile Blondet at the Vidame's dinner, he was considered one of the lights of journalism. Great superiority in political judgment was imputed to him, and his reputation in a great measure rested on it. The worthy old judge was com- pl tely ignorant of the power which constitutional government had bestowed upon newspapers. No one ever talked to him of a son he evidently wished to for- get ; consequently he knew nothing of the discarded youth nor of the power which he exercised. The integrity of the judge was on a par with his passion for flowers. He received litigants, talked with them, listened to them, and showed them his The Gallery of Antiquities. 145 flowers ; he accepted choice and precious seeds from them, but on the bench he became the most impartial judge on earth. His manner of proceeding was so well known that after a while litigants only came to see him to give him documents which might enlighten him. No one ever attempted to deceive him. His knowledge, and his indifference to his real powers made him so invaluable to du Ronceret, that even without the latter's matrimonial reasons, he would still have opposed Blondet's retirement in favor of his son ; for without the wise old man at his elbow du Ronceret was unable to formulate a judgment. The old man lived with a simplicity worthy of one of Plutarch's heroes. At night he studied his cases, in the morning he cared for his flowers, and during the middle of the day he judged. The pretty servant- girl, now as ripe and wrinkled as an Easter apple, kept house with a rigorous economy. To give an idea of the interior life of the household, it is enough to say that father and son never ate any but rotten fruit, owing to Mademoiselle Cadot's habit of selecting for dessert those most likely to become uneatable ; neither did they ever enjoy the taste of fresh bread, and they kept all the fast days commanded by the Church. The garden, marvellously tended by a single gar- dener, had walks of river gravel, constantly raked ; on either side of which were borders filled with the rarest flowers. All perfumes, all colors were there; also myriads of little pots exposed to the sun ; lizards were on the walls ; hoes and rakes were stacked like arms ; in short, all the innocent and useful things which this charming passion necessitates could be seen there. 10 146 The Gallery of Antiquities. At the end of his greenhouse the judge had arranged a sort of amphitheatre where, on graduated benches, were some five or six thousand pots of pelargoniums ; a magnificent spectacle, to which all persons in the town and circumjacent neighborhood were invited during the flowering season. The Empress Marie- Louise,, passing through the town on one occasion, had honored this beautiful show with her presence, and was so much struck by it that she mentioned it to Napoleon, who sent the cross of the Legion of honor to the old judge. As for Michu, the substitute- judge, that young man, though powerfully protected, was more interested in pleasing the women of the highest societ}^ to whom the introductions of the Cinq-Cygne family had gained him admittance, than in the usually simple cases of a provincial court. He performed his legal functions as a matter of conscience, just as he wrote his themes in college ; he voted blindly, saying " Yes, my dear judge " to everything. But beneath this apparent laisser-aUer, he concealed the superior mind of a man who had studied and already distinguished himself in Paris. Accustomed to take broad views on every subject, he could do rapidly much that would otherwise have taken the chief-justice and old Blondet a long time ; he often summed up for them the points of a question which they found difficult to solve. Protected by the most captious of aristocracies, young and rich, the substi- tute-judge lived entirely outside of the intrigues of the town and the departmental pettinesses. Indispensable for rural fetes and picnics, he frolicked with the young people, courted the mothers, danced at balls, and The Gallery of Antiquities. 147 played cards like a financier. In short, he acquitted himself admirably in his role of fashionable magistrate, without, however, compromising his dignity, which he knew how to bring forward on occasion, like a man of sense. The procureur-du-roi ', a magistrate of the highest talent, but now thrown much into statecraft, awed the chief-justice du Ronceret. Had he not been absent at this time in Paris, Victurnien's arrest would never have been made. His dexterity, his ability in management, would certainly have prevented it. The chief-justice and du Croisier had profited by his absence at the Chamber of Deputies (where he was one of the most remarkable ministerial orators) to hatch their plot, believing, with some justice, that if the law were once invoked, and the matter made public, there would be no remedy. At this period of our history, no court and no lawyer would have acted without long delibera- tion aud reference to the procureur-general, on a com- plaint of forgery against the eldest son of one of the noblest families in the kingdom. In such a case the legal authorities would, in concert with the govern- ment, try all sorts of compromises to stifle a scandal which might send an imprudent young man to the gal- leys. They would also have acted in the same manner for some highly respected liberal family, unless it was too openly arrayed against the throne and the altar. The reception of du Croisier's complaint and the im- mediate arrest of the young count were therefore two unusual circumstances which could certainly not have been brought about without difficulty. This is how the chief-justice and du Croisier went to work to reach their ends. 148 The Gallery of Antiquities. Monsieur Sauvager, a young royalist lawyer who had reached the position of assistant-procwmtr by dint of obsequious services to the ministry, reigned in the law courts in the absence of his chief. On him it de- pended not only to admit the complaint of du Croisier, but also to issue a requisition for the warrant of arrest. Sauvager, a man of no position and no means what- ever, lived by his office. Consequently the government regarded him as a follower whom nothing could shake. The chief-justice made use of the man's situation. As soon as the forged draft was in du Croisier' s hands, that same evening Madame du Ronceret, prompted by her husband, had a long conversation with Sauvager, to whom she pointed out that the career of a " stand- ing judge" — that is, one who was not on the bench — was very uncertain ; in fact, a ministerial caprice or a single blunder might ruin the future of a man so placed. "Be a man of conscience; give your decisions against the government interests whenever they are wrong. You would lose your place, but you have no security in your present position. You can," she went on, " profit by the present occasion to make a ricji marriage, which would protect you forever against such chances, and give you fortune enough with which to obtain, sooner or later, a sitting judgeship. Here's a fine occasion. Monsieur du Croisier will never have children ; every one knows why. His fortune and that of his wife will go to his niece, Mademoiselle Duval. Monsieur Duval is an ironmaster whose purse is al- ready plump, and his father, a man of property, is still living. The father and son have a million between The Gallery of Antiquities. 149 them. Monsieur and Madame Duval will certainly give their daughter to any man her uncle du Croisier pre- sents to them, in consideration of the two fortunes he will leave her. Now, you know the hatred du Croisier feels for the d'Esgrignons. Do him a service; be on his side. Receive a complaint he is going to make to you against young d'Esgrignon for forgery ; have the count arrested at once without consulting the procureur- du-roi ; then pray God that for having acted like an impartial magistrate against the wishes of the govern- ment, the minister may dismiss you, and your fortune is made! You will have a charming wife and thirty thousand a }^ear in dowry, not counting four millions of inheritance, probably within a dozen years." In the course of two evenings the a,ssistsmt-procureur had been won over. The chief-justice and Sauvager kept the matter from the knowledge of the old judge Blondet, and from that of the substitute-judge. Cer- tain of Blondet' s impartiality in presence of the facts of the case, the chief-justice had a majority without counting Michu ; but all was lost if the unexpected disloyalty of the examining- judge Camusot continued. The chief-justice wanted an immediate decision to send the case for trial before the procurear-du-roi was made aware of the matter. Would Camusot or the substitute- judge inform him? 150 The Gallery of Antiquities. X. THE EXAMINING- JUDGE. By explaining the private life of the exa mining- judge, Camusot, we shall reveal the reasons which allowed Chesnel to consider this young magistrate as capable of being won over to the d'Esgrignons, and made him bold to attempt to suborn him in the open street. Camusot, son of the first wife of a celebrated silk mer- chant in the rue des Bourdonnais, and the object of his father's highest ambition, had always been destined for the magistracy. In marrying a wife, he had also married the influence of a king's usher, — an under- ground protection, but efficacious, for it had already obtained for him his appointment, first as ordinary judge, and afterwards as examining-judge. His father had given him on his marriage only six thousand francs a year, the fortune of his late mother ; and as Made- moiselle Thirion did not bring him a dowry of more than twenty thousand francs, the young household knew the miseries of secret privation, for the salary of a provincial judge is never more than fifteen hun- dred francs. Examining-judges receive an additional stipend because of the extra expenses and labor of their functions. In spite of this extra fatigue, these places are much desired, although their holders are removable. It was for this reason that Madame Camu- The Gallery of Antiquities. 151 sot scolded her husband for disclosing his mind to the chief-justice. Marie-Cecile-Amelie Thirion, after three years of marriage, had obtained the blessing of God in the shape of two successful confinements with a son and daughter ; but she prayed to the Divine Power not to bless her again in the same manner. A few more such blessings, and privation would turn to poverty. The fortune of Monsieur Camusot, the father, was likely to be long in coming. Besides, the merchant's four chil- dren by two wives would not in any case inherit more than an income of ten thousand francs apiece, and by that time the judge would have children of his own of an age to establish. AVe can readily conceive the situa- tion of a little woman of sense and resolution such as Madame Camusot. She had too deep a conviction of the result of any mis-step made by her husband on his future career to refrain from meddling continually in judiciary matters. The only child of an old servant of Louis XVIII., a valet who had followed his master throughout his exile in Italy, Courland, and England, and whom the king had rewarded with the only place he was able to fill — that of an usher of his cabinet — Amelie Thirion had been brought up in the reflected light of a court. Her father described the great seigneurs, the ministers, the personages he ushered into the king's presence and saw as the} 7 passed and repassed him. Living as it were, at the gate of the Tuileries, this young woman had taken the tone of ideas that prevailed there, and had fully adopted the doctrine of absolute submission to the ruling power. She had therefore wisely judged 152 The Gallery of Antiquities. that in taking sides with the d'Esgrignons her husband would please the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse and obtain, through her, the influence of two powerful families on which her father could rely when the oppor- tune moment came to advance her husband with the king. Camusot might, in the first instance, be ap- pointed judge within the jurisdiction of Paris, and later in the city itself. This coveted promotion, yearned for at every moment of her life, would give them a salary of six thousand francs, the comforts of a home with her own father or with Camusot's, and thus enable them to enjoy the benefits of both paternal fortunes. If the old adage, "out of sight, out of mind," is true in the case of most women, it is also eminently true in regard to family sentiments, and royal and ministerial favors. From time immemorial those who serve kings personally have luck in their own affairs ; the master takes an interest in a man whom- he sees daily, be it only a valet. Madame Camusot, who considered herself only a bird of passage in the provinces, had taken in the rue du Cygne a little house of a poor description ; none of the rooms were ceiled, they all showed beams or rafters whitewashed. The judge's study was that of every provincial lawyer, — supplied with a large ma- hogany desk and armchair, the library of a law-student, and a few pieces of shabby furniture brought from Paris. Madame' s bedroom was an indigenous product, blue and white, with a carpet and a miscellaneous col- lection of furniture. As for the salon on the ground- floor, it was truly provincial, cold, bare, and hung with damp and faded papers. The Gallery of Antiquities. 153 It was in this shabby room, without other view than a walnut-tree in the middle of the courtyard, the black- ened walls of which divided the house from the deserted street, that the days of a lively and eager young woman accustomed to the pleasures and excitements of Paris were now spent ; alone the greater part of the time ; or receiving the wearisome visits of silly women who made her prefer her dreary solitude to their empty talk, during which, if she allowed herself the slightest stroke of wit or sarcasm, she gave rise to interminable comments which embittered her position. Occupied with her children, less from choice than to put some interest into her solitary life, she could only exercise her intellect on the intrigues which went on about her, on the underhand dealings and practices of provincials, and their various ambitions cramped into narrow circles. She was quick to fathom mysteries that her husband did not even perceive. Her eyes were on the walnut-tree as she sat at the window of her room holding in her hand a piece of embroidery, but her mind was in Paris, where all was pleasure, all was life ; she dreamed of its fetes and wept to find herself in that cold prison of the provinces. She was miserable also in the fact that the region was peaceful ; no con- spiracies, no great crimes, no "affairs" took place there. She saw herself indefinitely under the shadow of that walnut-tree. Madame Camusot is a plump little woman, fresh and fair, with a prominent forehead, a pinched mouth, a forward chin, features which youth renders endurable, but which will surely make her seem like an old woman early. Her lively, intelligent eyes, which express too 154 The Gallery of Antiquities. plainly her frank desire for advancement and the envy her present inferior position is rousing iu her, shine like two lights in an otherwise common face, and ele- vate it by a certain force of sentiment which success will extinguish later. At this period of her life she was very industrious about her clothes ; she invented her own trimmings and even embroidered them ; she studied her toilets with her chamber-maid, a woman brought from Paris, and thus maintained a certain Parisian reputation in the provinces. Her caustic humor made her feared ; she was never loved. With that keen investigating spirit which characterizes women who are unemployed, and who are forced to find some occupation for their time, she had ended by discovering the secret motives and opinions of the chief-justice; and in consequence of these discoveries, she had lately urged Camusot to declare war against him. The affair of the young Comte d'Esgrignon seemed to her an excellent opportunity. Before going that evening to du Croisier's house she had demon- strated to her husband without difficulty that in this affair the deputy-procureur, Sauvager, was evidently going against the wishes of his superiors. Camusot's role, she told him, was to make a stepping-stone of this criminal trial, by favoring the d'Esgrignon family, who would prove far more powerful with 'the govern- ment than the du Croisier faction. "Sauvager will never marry Mademoiselle Duval; they have only held that out to him as a bait. He will be the dupe of these Machiavellis of the Val- Noble, to whom he will sacrifice his position. Camusot, this affair, so unfortunate for the d'Es- The Gallery of Antiquities. 155 griguons, and so treacherously carried on by the chief-justice, apparently to oblige du Croisier, will end favorably for no one but you," she said in conclusion. The shrewd Parisian woman had fathomed the secret manoeuvres of the chief- justice toward the Blandureaus and also his motives for thwarting the plans of old Blondet. She saw no profit to herself, however, in en- lightening either father or son on the dangers of their situation ; in fact she enjoyed this comedy, not sus- pecting the importance it might assume in the affair. But in case her husband's position was assailed by the chief-justice, Madame Camusot knew that she could in turn assail the assailant by rousing the attention of the abstracted horticulturist to the projected theft of the flower he proposed to transplant to his own home. Without penetrating, like Madame Camusot, the secret of the means by which du Croisier and the chief-justice had won over the deputy -procureiir, Chesnel, studying these divers groups and interests, felt that his reliance must be on the procureurrdu-roi, on Michu, and on Camusot. Two judges on the d'Esgrignon side w T ould paralyze the affair ; and he knew enough of old Blondet's wishes to feel certain that if anything could warp the judge's impartiality it would be the fulfilment of the hope of his life : namely, the appointment of his son as a substitute-judge. Consequently Chesnel went to bed that night full of confidence, intending to go the next morning and see Monsieur Blondet and offer him the realization of the hopes he had cherished so long, and, at the same time, enlighten him on the subject of du Ronceret's treachery. After winning over the judge he would go diplomati- 156 The Gallery of Antiquities. cally to Camusot and persuade him, if not of the inno- cence, at least of the mere imprudence of Victurnien, and so reduce the affair to the simple heedlessness of a young man. Chesnel did not sleep either peacefully or long ; be- fore daylight his housekeeper woke him up to see a personage of some importance in this history, an at- tractive young man, — no other than the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, who arrived from Paris alone, in a caleche with post horses, and dressed in man's clothes. " I have come to save him or die with him," she said to the notary, who thought he was dreaming. " I have brought a hundred thousand francs which the kins has given me out of his private purse to buy Victurnien 's innocence if his adversary is corruptible. Should we fail, I have poison with me to save him from indictment. But we shall not fail. The pi'ocureur-du-roi, whom I warned of what was going on, is following me. He could n't accompany me for he wanted to get his orders from the Keeper of the Seals." Chesnel, wrapping himself in his dressing-gown, fell at her feet and kissed them. "We are saved!" he cried; then he went to give orders to Brigitte to prepare all the duchess needed after her long night-journey. But before she rested he made an appeal to her courage and showed her the necessity of going to the examining judge before day- light, so that no one might get hold of the secret of her coming. "I've a passport in due form," she said, showing him the document, in which she was described as Monsieur le Vicomte Felix de Vandenesse, Master of The Gallery of Antiquities. 157 Petitions, and private secretary to the king, " and don't I play my role of man exceedingly well?" she asked, pushing up her wig a la Titus, and twirling her cane. "Ah! Madame la duchesse, you are an angel," cried Chesnel, with tears in his eyes (she was fated to be an angel, even in men's clothes). "Button up your coat, wrap your cloak about you to your very nose, take my arm, and let us hurry to Camusot before it leaks out that you are here." " Camusot! Shall I see a man named Camusot? " "A man who has the nose of his name," replied Chesnel. Though his heart was wrung with anxiety, the old notary judged it best to follow the caprices of the duchess, to laugh when she laughed, to weep when she wept ; but he groaned inwardly at the levity of the woman who, while doing a great thing, found food for frivolous jesting. While Chesnel dressed, Madame de Maufrigneuse drank the coffee a la crhne which Brigitte served to her, and discovered the superiority of provincial cooks over those of Paris, who disdain such minor details as coffee-making, important as they are to a true gour- mand. Thanks to the foresight necessary to satisfy her master's love of good eating, Brigitte was able to offer the duchess an excellent collation. After which Chesnel and his pretty companion started for the house of Monsieur and Madame Camusot. "Ah! if there's a Madame Camusot the affair is easily managed," said the duchess. "All the easier," replied Chesnel, " because mad a me 158 The Gallery of Antiquities. is bored to death among provincials. She is from Paris." " Then we had better keep no secrets from her." "You are the judge as to what we must hide or reveal," said Chesnel, humbly. " I think she would be immensely flattered to offer hospitality to the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse. In order not to compromise us, you will have to stay at her house till after dark, — unless, of course, you think it undesirable." "Is she handsome, this Madame Camusot? " asked the duchess, playing the fop. " She is something of a queen in her own home," replied the notary. "Then, of course, she meddles in her husband's law concerns. It is only in France, my dear Monsieur Chesnel, that you find women marrying their husbands so effectually that they marry functions, business, and work as well. In Italy, Spain, and England, women make it a point of honor to let their husbands struggle with such cares alone. They ignore them with as much pertinacity as our bourgeoises display in getting at the heart of such matters. Frenchwomen want to know everything in conjugal politics ; they are incredibly jealous on that point. Consequently in all the diffi- culties of life in France, even the least, you will invari- ably feel the hand of the wife, who advises, guides, and inspires her husband. Most men think they are none the worse for it. In England a married man might be put in a debtor's prison, and on his return home his wife would make him a scene of jealousy." " Here we are," said Chesnel, "without meeting a soul. Madame la duchesse, you ought to have all the The G cillery of Antiquities. 159 more power here because the father of Madame Camu- sot is an usher to the king, named Thirion." "And the king never remembered it! but he thinks of nothing now! " cried the duchess. " It was Thirion who ushered us in, — the Prince de Cadignan, Monsieur de Vandenesse, and me. We are masters here ; no doubt of that. Arrange your plans with the husband while I talk with the wife." The maid-servant, who was washing and dressing the children, ushered the two strangers into a little room without any fire. " Carry this card to your mistress," said the duchess in the maid's ear, "and don't let any one else see it. If you are discreet I will reward you, my girl." The woman looked amazed at hearing a feminine voice from the lips of that charming 3'oung man. "Wake up Monsieur Camusot," said Chesnel, "and tell him I want to see him on a matter of importance." The maid-servant went upstairs. A few minutes later Madame Camusot, in her dressing-gown, ran down to receive the duchess, after pushing Camusot, in his night-shirt, with all his clothes after him, into his study, where she ordered him to dress himself and wait for her. This scenic effect was produced by the card, on which was engraved, " La Duchesse de Mau- frigneuse." The daughter of the king's usher com- prehended the affair at a glance. "Well, well, Monsieur Chesnel," cried the maid, returning, "wouldn't one think a hurricane was blow- ing through the house? There's monsieur dressing in his study! You are to go up there and see him." " Silence about all this," replied the notary. 160 The Gallery of Antiquities, Feeling himself supported by the duchess, who had the verbal consent of the king to measures which would save the Comte d'Esgrignon, Chesnel now assumed an air of authority which served him far better with Camusot than the humble tone he would have other- wise taken had he been alone and unsupported. " Monsieur," he said, " my words last evening may have surprised you, but they were serious. The house of Esgrignon counts on you to examine this affair — from which it must issue without a stain — - judiciously." 14 Monsieur," replied the judge, " I shall take no no- tice of what is derogatory to me and subversive of justice in your words, for, up to a certain point, your position toward the d'Esgrignon family excuses it. But — " "Monsieur, pardon me for interrupting you," said Chesnel. "I have come to tell you things that your superiors think but cannot say ; things which able men divine at once, — and you are an able man. Let us suppose, therefore, that this young man has acted im- prudently ; do you think that the king, the court, the ministry, will be pleased to see a name like that of Esgrignon dragged before the court of assizes? Is it for the interest of either the kingdom or the coun- try that the old historic houses should fall? Is not equality, the great word of the Opposition in these days, best guaranteed by the preservation of an aris- tocracy consecrated by time ? Well, let me tell you that not only has there been no imprudence, but we have, most innocently, fallen into a trap." "I am curious to know in what way," said the judge. The Gallery of Antiquities. 161 " Monsieur," replied Chesnel, "for the last two years Monsieur du Croisier has allowed the Comte d'Es- grignon to draw upon him for large sums of money. We can produce drafts accepted by him for more than three hundred thousand francs, which sums were paid to him by me — mark this — both before and after they fell due. Monsieur le Comte d'Esgrignon is able to show a receipt for the sum drawn by him anterior to the draft now called a forgery. Do you not see, therefore, that the complaint now made is the work of hatred and partisanship? This accusation of the heir of an old family by the most dangerous adversaries of the throne and altar is, in fact, a vile calumny. There is no more forgery in this affair than I am guilty of in my practice. Summon Madame du Croisier before you ; she is still ignorant of this charge of forgery. She will tell you that I myself carried the money to her in her husband's absence, and that she has kept it simply because he did not ask her for it. Ques- tion du Croisier on the subject ; he will tell you that lie was not aware of my remittance to Madame du Croisier." "Monsieur," replied the examining-judge, " such assertions may do very well in the salon of Monsieur d'Esgrignon or among persons who know nothing of business ; but an examining-judge, unless he is an im- becile, will not believe that a woman so submissive to her husband as Madame du Croisier has kept in her secretary three hundred thousand francs without a word to her husband ; nor will he believe for a moment that an old notary would not have informed Monsieur du Croisier of this remittance on his return." 11 162 The Gallery of Antiquities. "The old notary was in Paris, monsieur, endeavor- ing to check the dissipations of the young count." "I have not yet examined the Comte d'Esgri- gnon," resumed the judge; "his answers will clear my mind." "Is he in solitary confinement? " asked the notary. "Yes." " Monsieur," said Chesnel, seeing the danger, "the examination may be conducted either favorably or un- favorably for us ; but it is for you to choose between taking Madame du Croisier's deposition as to the fact of the remittance of the money before the draft was made, and examining a poor young man who, in his trouble, may forget everything and so commit himself. You must consider which is the more likely, that a woman ignorant of business should forget to give her husband the money, or that a d'Esgrignon should be guilty of forgery." " All that has nothing to do with it," said the judge ; "the question is: Did Comte d'Esgrignon take the bottom of a letter addressed to him by du Croisier and turn it into a draft for money?" "Yes; he had the right to do so," cried Madame Camusot, suddenly appearing, followed by a handsome young man. " Monsieur Chesnel had paid in the money." She stooped to her husband's ear: "You are to be substitute- judge in Paris at the first vacancy ; you are serving the king himself in this affair. I am assured of that; you will not be forgotten," she whispered. "This young man is the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse; never tell that you've seen her; do all they want for the young count boldly." The Gallery of Antiquities. 163 "Messieurs," said the judge, "if the examination were conducted in a manner to show the innocence of the young man, how can I answer for what the chief- justice ma} 7 do? Monsieur Chesnel, and you, my dear, know his object well enough." " Ta, ta, ta ! " said Madame Camusot, " go and see Monsieur Michu yourself this morning ; tell him how the arrest of the young count was made ; you '11 be two against two, at any rate. Michu is from Paris, and you know his devotion to the nobility, — birds of a feather, as they say." At this moment the voice of Mademoiselle Cadot, Judge Blondet's housekeeper, was heard at the door, saying that she had brought an urgent letter. Camusot went out and soon returned, reading these words, — " The assistant chief-justice requests Monsieur Camusot to sit on the bench to-day and for some days to come ; so that the court may be full in the absence of the chief- justice. He presents his compliments," etc. " That means j^ou are not allowed to examine the d'Esgrignon affair," cried Madame Camusot. " Did n't I tell you, my dear, they would play you some ugly- trick? The chief- justice has gone to prejudice the procureur-du-roi against } 7 ou. They are delaying the examination on that pretext ; and before you can make it, you will lose your place. Is n't that clear? " " No, you will not lose your place, monsieur," said the duchess. "The i)rocureur-du-roi will, I trust, ar- rive in time." "When the 2 : > rocureur ~d u ~ r °i comes," said little Madame Camusot, eagerly, " he must find the matter 164 The Gallery of Antiquities. all settled. Yes, my dear, yes," she added to her stupefied husband. u Ah ! old hypocrite of a chief- justice! You think to play wily with us, but you '11 repent it ! you want to serve us a dish of your own concoction ; you shall have two, cooked by your hand- maid, Cecile-Amelie Thirion ! Poor good old Blondet ! lucky for him that Du Ronceret has gone off to destroy us ; it will end in his marrying that booby of a son to Mademoiselle Blandureau. I '11 sow some seeds into Pere Blondet myself. You, Camusot, must go at once to Monsieur Michu, while Madame la duchesse and I go and talk to old Blondet. You may expect to hear by nightfall that I have been walking the streets with a young lover. Come, madame." The Gallery of Antiquities, 165 XL A JUDICIAL BATTLE. Madame Camusot took the arm of the duchess and led her through the loneliest streets of the town to Judge Blondet's house. Chesnel during this time went to see the young count in prison, where Camusot gave him an order of admittance to the solitary cells. The cooks and servants and others who get up early in the provinces, seeing Madame Camusot and the duchess making their way through the back streets, were certain that the elegant young man was a lover from Paris. As Ce'cile-Amelie had foreseen, the news of her behavior circulated through the town, and before night had given rise to much gossip. Madame Camusot and her assumed lover found old Blondet in his greenhouse. He saluted the wife of his colleague and her companion, casting an uneasy and scrutinizing look on the handsome young man. " I have the honor to present to you a cousin of my husband," said Madame Camusot, motioning to the duchess, " one of the most distinguished horticulturists of Paris, now on his way back from Brittany, who can only stay with us for this one day. Having heard of your beautiful flowers and shrubs, he was most anxious to see them, and I have ventured to bring him here at this early hour, hoping to find you at home." 166 The Gallery of Antiquities. " Ah ! monsieur is a flower-lover," said the old judge. The duchess bowed without speaking. "Here," said the judge, "is my coffee-plant, and also my tea-plant." "Why," asked Madame Camusot, "did the chief- justice go to Paris? I'll lay a wager his journey con- cerns Monsieur Camusot." "Yes, it does. Here, monsieur, is the choicest cactus in existence," he continued, showing a plant in a pot which looked like a rattan cane covered with leprosy. "It comes from New Holland. You are very young, monsieur, to be a horticulturist." " Dear Monsieur Blondet, leave your flowers for a minute," said Madame Camusot; "I want to speak to you about your plans, your hopes. I mean the marriage of your son to Mademoiselle Blandureau. You are duped by the chief- justice." " Pooh! " said the judge, incredulously. "Yes," she continued; " if you cultivated society a little more and your flowers a little less, you would kuow that the dot and the hopes you have planted, watered, raked, and weeded, are on the point of being gathered by tricky fingers." "Madame! " "Ah! nobody of this town would have the courage- to face the wrath of the chief-justice by warning you. But I, who am not a native, and who hope and expect before long to go to Paris, I can tell } T ou that Chesnel's successor has formally asked the hand of Claire Blan- dureau for that young du Ronceret, to whom his father and mother give a hundred and fifty thousand francs. The Gallery of Antiquities, 167 As to Fabien himself, he has promised to enter the bar in order to get the judge's place that you want for your son." The old judge dropped the pot he had taken in his hand to show the duchess. "Ah, my cactus! oh, my son! Mademoiselle Blandureau ! oh, see ! the flower is broken off ! " "No, it is n't; you can stick it up," said Madame Camusot, laughing. " If you want to see your son made judge within a month, we will tell you how to manage it." " Monsieur," said the judge to the duchess, "come this way ; you shall see my pelargoniums, a magnifi- cent sight when they flower. Why," he asked, return- ing to Madame Camusot, " do you talk to me of such matters before your cousin ? " " Because everything depends on him," replied Madame Camusot. "Pooh!" " That } T oung man is a flower." "Ah!" "That's the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, sent here by the king to save young d'Esgrignon, arrested yesterday on a charge of forgery brought against him by du Croisier. Madame la duchesse has the word of the Keeper of the Seals that he will ratify whatever promises she makes to us — " " My cactus is safe! " said the judge, who was all the while examining his precious plant. " Go on ; I'm listening to 3 T ou." " Consult with Camusot and Michu how to smother the affair at once, and your son will get the place. His 168 The Gallery of Antiquities. appointment shall be sent down in time to defeat du Ronceret's intrigues with the Blandureaus. Your son will do better still. Within a year he can succeed Monsieur Camusot. The procureur-du-roi will be here to-day. Monsieur Sauvager will probably be forced to send in his resignation on account of his conduct in this affair. My husband will show you documents which establish the innocence of the young count, and will prove that the forgery was a trap laid for him by du Croisier." The old judge entered the Olympic amphitheatre of his pelargoniums and bowed to the duchess. " Monsieur," he said, " if what you desire is legal, it can be done." " Monsieur," replied the duchess, " place your resignation in the hands of Monsieur Chesnel to- morrow, and I promise to send down the appointment of your son within a week. But do not give in your resignation till you have heard the procureur-du-roi confirm what I say. You lawyers understand each other best. Only, you must let him know that the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse has pledged her word to you. Remember to keep my visit here a secret," she added. The old judge kissed her hand and began to gather, pitilessly, the finest flowers of his collection, which he offered to her. "No, no!" she cried, " give them to madame ; it is n't natural to see a young man wearing flowers when he has a pretty woman on his arm." " Before you go to court," said Madame Camusot, "go to Chesnel' s successor and ask about the proposals The Gallery of Antiquities. 169 he has made to the Blandureaus in the name of Mon- sieur and Madame du Rouceret." The old judge, thunderstruck by the duplicity of the chief-justice, stood planted on his legs behind his iron gateway, gazing at the two women as they hurried away through the side streets. He saw the edifice of his hopes, built slowly and painfully during the last ten years, undermined and crumbling down. Could it be true? He suspected some trick, and he hurried to the office of Chesnel's successor. At half-past nine o'clock, before the court opened, the three judges, Blondet, Camusot, and Michu, arrived with extraordinary punctuality in their council-cham- ber, the door of which was carefully closed by the old judge as the last two entered together. "Well, monsieur," said Michu, addressing him, "so Monsieur Sauvager has obtained a warrant against the Comte d'Esgrignon without consulting the procureur- du-roi, and solely to gratify the malice of du Croisier, an enemy to the king's government. That's a pretty topsy-turvy ! The chief-justice, on his part, has gone away and stopped the examination ; we know nothing of the facts of the case. Can it be that they are tiding to force our hand ? " " This is the first word that I have heard of the affair," said the old judge, furious at the actions of the chief-justice in regard to the Blandureaus. Chesnel's successor, a tool of du Ronceret's, had fallen into a trap laid for him by Blondet to discover the truth, and had just betrayed the secret. "How fortunate that we have spoken of it, my dear master! " said Camusot to the old judge, "otherwise 170 The Gallery of Antiquities. your son would never have sat upon the fleurs-de-lis or married Mademoiselle Blandureau." " But the point in question is not my son, or his marriage," said the judge; "it concerns the young Comte d'Esgrignon : is he or is he not guilty? " " It seems," replied Monsieur Michu, " that the money was placed in Madame du Croisier's hands by Chesnel, during her husband's absence, and they have simply made a crime out of an irregularity. The 3 T oung man, as stated in the complaint, took the lower part of a letter on which du Croisier had signed his name, and made it into a draft on the Kellers." " A great imprudence ! " said Camusot. " But if du Croisier had already received the money," said Blondet, " why does he complain? " " He does not know, or he pretends not to know, that his wife received the money," said Camusot. "A provincial revenge," said Michu. "Yet it certainly looks to me like forgery," said old Blondet, the light of whose judicial conscience no sense of anger could, darken. " Do you think so? " said Camusot. " But, in the first place, supposing that the young count had no right to draw on du Croisier, the signature is not forged. The count, however, thought himself justified by the information sent him by Chesnel that the money had been paid in." "In that case, where can any crime at all be charged? The essence of forgery in civil matters is that it constitutes a damage to another person." " Precisely ; but if we consider du Croisier's version as true, it is clear that the signature was diverted from The Gallery of Antiquities. 171 its original purpose and used to draw a sum from the Kellers, whom du Croisier had instructed to advance no more money," replied Camusot. " This charge, messieurs," said Blondet, " strikes me as trumpery. You had the money ; I, Comte d'Es- grignon, ought to have waited for an order from you; but I was in urgent need of money, and I — oh, come now ! that complaint is spite, or vengeance. The law requires, to constitute forgery, that there shall be an intention to fraudulently obtain a sum of money, and gain a benefit to which we are not entitled. There is no forgery in this case, either under the terms of Roman law or under those of existing jurisprudence. Forgery carries with it the intent to steal ; but where is the theft in this case? "What a strange state of things ! here is the chief-justice gone away in order to put a stop to an examination which ought to have been made promptly. I find I never really knew the chief-justice until to-da} T ; in future he may draft his own judgments himself. You ought to lose no time in making the examination, Monsieur Camusot." " Yes," said Michu ; " and my opinion is that instead of setting the young man at liberty under bail it would be well to clear him at once. All depends on the ex- aminations of du Croisier and his wife. You could summon them while the session is going on, Monsieur Camusot, receive their testimony before four o'clock, make your report to-night, and we will take up the case at once and decide it to-morrow before the session." "While the lawyers are pleading, we can agree on the course to follow," said Blondet to Camusot. 172 The Gallery of Antiquities. After which the three judges put on their robes and entered the court-room. At twelve o'clock Monseigneur the bishop accom- panied Mademoiselle Armande to the hotel d'Esgrignon, where he met Madame du Croisier's confessor, Mon- sieur Couturier, and Chesnel. After a short con- ference between the prelate and the confessor, the latter left the house to visit his penitent. An hour earlier, du Croisier had received a summons to appear, between one and two o'clock, at the office of the examining-judge. He obeyed it under the pressure of legitimate suspicions. The chief-justice, unable, of course, to foresee the arrival of the Duchesse de Mau- frigneuse, that of the procureur-du-roi, and the sudden confederation of the three judges, had forgotten to trace out a line of conduct to du Croisier in case the examination should, after all, begin. Neither of them expected such celerity. Du Croisier hastened to obey the summons, in order to discover, if possible, Camusot's bias. He was consequently obliged to answer. The judge put to him summarily the following six questions : Was the signature to the so-called forged draft genuine ? Had he transacted business with the Comte d'Esgrignon before the draft was made? Was Comte d'Esgrignon in the habit of drawing bills of exchange upon him with and without notice? Had he not written letters in which he authorized Monsieur d'Esgrignon to draw upon him at any time ? Had Maitre Chesnel paid in to him on several occasions the money so drawn? Was he absent from town at a certain period? These questions were, of course, answered in the The Gallery of Antiquities. 173 affirmative by clu Croisier. In spite of bis attempts at verbal explanation, the judge held him steadily to the alternative of yes or no. When these questions and answers were entered upon the written report, the judge ended the examination with the following astounding question : — "Did du Croisier know that the amount of the so- called forged draft had been deposited with him, according to the declaration of Maitre Chesnel and a letter of advice from the said Chesnel to Comte d'Esgrignon, five days before the date of the draft?" This question terrified du Croisier. He asked what such an inquiry meant. Was he supposed to be the guilty man, and Comte d'Esgrignon the complainant? He remarked also that if the money had been in his hands he should have had no grounds for the charge. " Justice is enlightened," said the judge, dismissing him, and taking due note of du Croisier's last remark. " But, monsieur, the money — " "You will find it in your own possession," replied the judge. Chesnel, also summoned, explained the circum- stances. The truth of his assertion was corroborated by Madame du Croisier's deposition. The judge had already examined Comte d'Esgrignon, who, prompted by Chesnel, produced the first letter, in which du Croisier requested the young man to draw upon him without giving himself the trouble to deposit the money in advance. He also produced Chesnel's letter to him advising him of the deposit of three hundred thousand , francs with du Croisier. With such testimony and 174 The Gallery of Antiquities. documents the innocence of the young count could not fail to appear before the court. Du Croisier was white with anger when he reached home ; his lips foamed with his concentrated rage. He found his wife sitting in the salon at the corner of the fireplace doing worsted work. She trembled when she raised her eyes to his ; but she had chosen her course and meant to keep it. "Madame," stuttered du Croisier, "what testimony did you give before the judge? You have dishonored, betrayed, destroyed me ! " "I have saved you, monsieur," she replied. "If you have the honor some day to ally yourself to the d'Esgrignon family by the marriage of your niece with the young count, you will owe it to the course I have just taken." "A miracle indeed! Balaam's she-ass speaks!" he cried. "I shall never be surprised again. Where are the three hundred thousand francs Monsieur Caniu- sot says are in my possession ? " " Here," she said, taking the roll of bank-bills from beneath her sofa-pillow. "I did not commit a sin in declaring that Monsieur Chesnel gave them to me." " In my absence?" "You were not here." " Do you swear that on your eternal salvation? " " I swear it," she said calmly. " Why did you never tell me? " he asked. "I did wrong in not doing so," replied his wife; "but my mistake leads to your advantage. Your niece will one day be Marquise d'Esgrignon, and per- haps you yourself may be deputy if you conduct your- The Gallery of Antiquities. 175 self wisely in this deplorable affair. You have gone too far; endeavor to retrace your steps." Du Croisier walked up and down the salon in great agitation of mind ; and his wife awaited, in equal agita- tion, the result of this promenade. Finally du Croisier rang the bell. " I shall receive no one this evening ; close the great gate," he said to the footman. " To all who come } t ou will say that madame and I are in the country. We shall start directly after dinner, which you are to serve half an hour earlier than usual." That evening all the salons, all the shopkeepers, the paupers, the beggars, the nobility, the business men — in short, the whole town — talked of the great news : the arrest of Comte d'Esgrignon on a charge of for- gery ! A d'Esgrignon would appear before the court of assizes ! be condemned and branded ! Those to whom the honor of the house of d'Esgrignon was pre- cious denied the fact. After nightfall Chesnel went to Madame Camusot's house to fetch the young stranger, whom he took to the hotel d'Esgrignon, where Made- moiselle Armande awaited her. The poor aunt led the duchess to her own room, which she gave up to her; the bishop was installed in Victurnien's. When Armande was alone with the duchess, she gave her a piteous look. "You owe your help to the unhappy child who has ruined himself for you, madame," she said, — "a child to whom everything here has been sacrificed." The duchess had already cast her woman's glance around the room and seen the image of the life of its noble occupant : that cold, barren room, without a 176 The Gallery of Antiquities. sign of luxury, was like the cell of a nun. Diane de Mauf rigneuse, deeply moved as she thought of the past, the present, and the future of that existence, and recog- nized the unspeakable contrast her own presence made there, could not restrain her tears, which rolled down her cheeks and were her only answer. " Ah ! I do wrong ; forgive me, Madame la duchesse," said the Christian, rising above Victurnien's aunt ; " you were ignorant of our poverty. Victurnien was inca- pable of telling you. Besides, now that I see you, all things seem explained, even crime." Mademoiselle Armande, thin, withered, and pale, but beautiful like those stiff, attenuated forms which Ger- man painters alone know how to render, had tears in her eyes. " Be comforted, dear angel," said the duchess at last ; "he is saved." "Yes, but his honor, his future! Chesnel told me that the king knows all." " We will try to repair the evil," said the duchess. Mademoiselle Armande went down to the salon, where she found the Gallery of Antiquities assembled in full force. All its members were present, as much to do honor to Monseigneur as to rally round the mar- quis. Chesnel, stationed in the antechamber, requested each arrival to keep the deepest silence on the great affair, that the venerable marquis might get no inkling of it. The loyal Frank was capable of killing his son or du Croisier ; either would have seemed to him equally guilty. By a strange chance, the marquis, happy in his son's return to Paris, talked more than usual of Vic- turnien. Victurnien was soon to have a place in the The Gallery of Antiquities. 177 king's household ; the king had at last remembered the d'Esgrignons. All present, with death in their souls, praised Victurnien's good conduct. Mademoiselle Ar- mande prepared the way for the sudden apparition of her nephew, by saying she had urged him to pay them a visit, and he might be even now on the road. "Bah!" said the marquis, standing before the fire- place, "he is managing affairs so well where he is, he ought to stay there, and not think of the joy his old father would have in seeing him. The king's service first, before all else." Those who heard that sentence shuddered. The trial mioht end in giving the shoulder of a d'Esgrignon to the branding of an executioner. There was a mo- ment of awful silence. The old Marquise de Casteran could not restrain a tear, which rolled through her rouge as she turned away her head. The next morning, about midday, the weather being superb, the whole population turned into the streets, and from group to group the one topic of discourse was the great affair. AVas the young count, or was he not, in prison? At this moment the well-known tilbury of Comte d'Esgrignon was seen coming down the rue Saint-Blaise from the prefecture. It was driven by the count himself, accompanied by an elegant young man ; both were laughing and talking gayly, and each had a Bengal rose in his buttonhole. They created a scenic effect impossible to describe. At ten o'clock a verdict of non-lieu had set the young count at liberty. Du Croisier was thunderstruck by a rider which reserved to the Comte d'Esgrignon the right to sue him for calumny. Old Chesuel walked 12 178 The Gallery of Antiquities. up the Grande-Rue, as if by chance, while Victurnien drove down, saying to all who questioned him that du Croisier had laid an infamous trap against the honor of the house of Esgrignon, and that if he was not sued for calumny he might lay his escape to the noble feelings which actuated the d'Esgrignon family. On the evening of that famous day, after the Mar- quis d'Esgrignon had gone to bed, the young count, Mademoiselle Armande, and the handsome young man, who was about to return to Paris, were in the salon alone with the Chevalier, from whom the sex of the charming youth could no longer be concealed. " The house of Esgrignon is saved," said Chesnel ; " but it will not recover from this shock in a hun- dred years. We must now pay the debt, and the only course open to you, Monsieur le comte, is to marry an heiress." " And take her where you can find her," said the duchess. "Another mesalliance!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Armande. The duchess laughed. " It is better to marry than die," she said, drawing from the pocket of her waistcoat a little phial given her by the apothecary of the Tuileries. Mademoiselle made a gesture of horror; but old Chesnel took the duchess's hand, and kissed it with- out permission. " You are all crazy here," said the duchess. " You expect to stay in the fifteenth century when the rest of us are living in the nineteenth. My dear innocents, there's no longer a nobility ; there 's nothing left but an The Gallery of Antiquities. 179 aristocracy. Napoleon's civil Code killed pedigrees as his cannon had already killed feudality. You will be greater nobles than you are now when you have money. Marry whom you will, Victurnien, you will ennoble your wife ; that is the most solid privilege that remains to French nobles. Monsieur de Talleyrand married Madame Grandt without degrading himself ; and remember that Louis XIV. married the widow Scarron." 4 'But he did not marry her for money," said Made- moiselle Armande. 44 If the Comtesse d'Esorio'non were the niece of a du Croisier, would you receive her?" said Chesnel to the duchess. " Possibly," she replied. " But the king would undoubtedly, and with pleasure. Do none of } 7 ou understand what is going on? " she continued, seeing the astonishment on their faces. "Victurnien has been in Paris ; he knows how things are. "We were more powerful under Napoleon. Victurnien, marry Made- moiselle Duval, or any woman } t ou like better ; she will be Marquise d'Esgrignon just as much as I am Duchesse de Maufrigneuse." " All is lost, even honor," said the Chevalier, with a melancholy gesture. " Adieu, Victurnien," said the duchess, kissing him on the forehead. " 4 We shall not meet again. The best thing for you to do is to live on your estates ; the air of Paris does not agree with you." 44 Diane ! " cried the young count, in despair. 44 Monsieur, you forget yourself," said the duchess, coldly, casting aside the rule of man, and becoming 180 The G-allery of Antiquities. once more not only an angel, but a duchess, and not only a duchess, but Moliere's Celimene. She bowed with dignity to each of the four persons present, and obtained from the Chevalier the last tear of admiration which he shed in the service of the fair sex. "How like she is to the Princess Goritza ! " he exclaimed in a low voice. Diane had departed. The crack of the postilion's whip told Victurnien that the fine romance of his first passion was ended. While he was in danger the duchess could still see a lover in the count ; but, once saved, she despised him for the weak being that he was. Six months later, Camusot was appointed a substi- tute-judge in Paris, and not long after that, examin- ing-judge. Michu became procureur-du-roi. The worthy Blondet was made Councillor in the Royal court, where he remained long enough to retire with a pension to his pretty little house and his precious gar- den. Joseph Blondet obtained his father's place, but with no prospect of promotion ; he married Made- moiselle Blandureau, who is bored to death among the flowers, like a carp in a marble basin. Michu aud Camusot received the cross of the Legion of honor, and old Blondet received that of an officer. As for the deputy-procwrewr, Monsieur Sauvager, he was removed to Corsica, to the great satisfaction of du Croisier, who had certainly no desire to give him his niece. Du Croisier, instigated by du Ronceret, appealed to the Royal court against the verdict of non-lieu, and lost The Gallery of Antiquities. 181 his case. The royalists, on their side, related the shocking plot which revenge had put into the head of the "infamous clu Croisier." A duel took place be- tween du Croisier and Victurnien. Chance sustained the former, who wounded the young count dangerously, and maintained his charges. The struggle between the two parties was much envenomed by this affair, which the liberals brought forward on all occasions. Du Croisier, constantly defeated at the elections, saw no chance of marrying his niece to Victurnien, especially after this duel. A month after the Royal court confirmed the verdict, Chesnel, worn out by the dreadful struggle, in which his physical and mental strength was undermined, died in his triumph like a faithful old dog whose belly has been ripped by the tusk of a wild boar. He died as happy as he could be while knowing that he left the family almost ruined, and the young man in poverty, dying of ennui and with no prospects whatever for the future. This cruel thought, joined to his physical weakness, was no doubt the cause of the old man's death. In the midst of this ruin, overwhelmed with these griefs, he received one great consolation. The old marquis, entreated by his sister, gave back to him his friendship. That personage, so grand to Chesnel's mind, came to the rue du Bercail and sat down beside the bed of his faithful servant, whose sacrifices were mostly unknown to him. Chesnel raised himself in his bed and repeated the song of Simeon. The marquis allowed him to be buried in the chapel of the chateau, his body cross-wise in the same grave where this last of the true d'Esgrignous was soon to lie himself. 182 The Gallery of Antiquities. Thus died one of the latest representatives of that grand and beautiful thing, domesticity, — servitorship, — a word which is often taken in ill part, but to which we give here its true signification, making it express the feudal attachment of the servitor to the master. That sentiment, which existed no longer except in the depths of the provinces and among a few old servants of the ancient monarch} 7 , was equally honorable to the nobility who inspired such affection and to the bour- geoisie who conceived it. Such noble and magnificent devotion is no longer possible in these days. The noble houses have no retainers ; no longer is there a King of France, or an hereditary peerage, or entailed estates to carry down the historical houses and perpet- uate the national glories. Chesnel was, therefore, not only one of the unrecognized great men of private life, he was also a great Thing. The unbroken contin- uance of his sacrifices gives to his life a grave and solemn character. Does it not far surpass the heroism of benevolence, which is, after all, only a momentary effort? Chesnel's virtue belongs essentially to the classes which are placed between the plainness of the people and the grandeurs of the nobility ; it unites the modest virtues of the bourgeoisie with the higher thoughts and principles of the noble, lighting both by the torch of a solid education. Victurnien, unfavorably viewed at court, was unable to obtain either a post for himself, or a rich girl to marry. The king steadily refused to give a peerage to the d'Esgrignons, — the only favor that could have lifted Victurnien out of the slouch. During the life of his father it was impossible for him to marry an heiress The Crallery of Antiquities. 183 of the lower classes ; he was doomed therefore to live meanly in the famil} T home, with nothing left but pain- ful memories of Parisian splendor and aristocratic love. Sad and gloomy, he vegetated between his des- pairing father, who attributed to mortal disease the depressed condition of his son, and his aunt, bowed down with grief and mortification. Chesnel was no longer there. The marquis died in 1830, after seeing King Charles X. on his way through Nonancourt, whither this last great d'Esgrignon went, followed by the Gallery of Antiquities, to pay his duty and join the meagre retinue of the vanquished monarchy, — an act of courage which seems simple enough to-day, but which the state of public feeling at the time made truly sublime. " The Gauls triumph! " were the last words uttered by the marquis. Du Croisier's revenge was then complete ; for the new Marquis d'Esgrignon, within a week of the death of his old father, accepted Mademoiselle Duval for his wife, with a dot of three millions. Du Croisier and his wife settled the inheritance of their own property on their niece by the marriage-contract. During the cere- mony of the marriage, du Croisier remarked that the house of Esgrignon was the most honorable of the noble families of France. The Marquis d'Esgrignon, who will one day have an income of more than three hundred thousand francs a year, may be seen every winter in Paris, where he leads the gay life of a bachelor, with nothing about him of the grand seigneur but his indifference to his wife, of whom he takes no account. 184 The Gallery of Antiquities. "As for Mademoiselle d'Esgrignon," said Emile Blondet, to whom we owe the details of this scene, "though she no longer resembles the celestial being remembered in my childhood, she is assuredly, at sixty- seven years of age, the most sorrowful and the most interesting figure in the Gallery of Antiquities, where she still reigns a queen. I saw her the last time I went to my native town to obtain the papers necessary for my marriage. When my father heard whom I was to marry he was stupefied, and did not recover speech till I told him I was a prefect. ' You were born so,' he said. While strolling through the town I met Made- moiselle Armande, who seemed to me more grand than ever. I fancied I saw Marias on the ruins of Carthage. Has she not survived her beliefs, her shattered faiths? No trust remains to her but in God. Habitually sad and silent, nothing is left of her great beauty but eyes of supernatural brilliancy. When I saw her going to mass, her prayer-book in her hand, I could not help thinking that she prays to God to take her from this bitter world." AN OLD MAID. AN OLD MAID. To Monsieur Eugene-Auguste-Georges-Louis Midy DE LA GRENERAYE SURVILLE, ROYAL ENGINEER OF THE PONTS ET ChAUSSE'eS. as a testimony to the affection of his brother-in-law, De Balzac. I. ONE OF MANY CHEVALIERS DE VALOIS. Most persons must have encountered, in certain provinces in France, a number of Chevaliers cle Valois. One lived in Normandy, another at Bourges, a third (with whom we have here to do) nourished in Alencon, and doubtless the South possesses others. The number of the Valesian tribe is, however, of no consequence to the present tale. All these chevaliers, among whom were doubtless some who were Valois as Louis XIV. was Bourbon, knew so little of one another that it was not advisable to speak to one about the others. They were all willing to leave the Bourbons in tranquil pos- session of the throne of France ; for it was too plainly established that Henri IV. became king for want of a 188 An Old Maid. male heir in the first Orleans branch called the Valois. If there are any Valois, they descend from Charles de Valois, Due d'Angouleme, son of Charles IX. and Marie Touchet, the male line from whom ended, until proof to the contrary be produced, in the person of the Abbe de Rothelin. The Valois-Saint-Remy, who descended from Henri II., also came to an end in the famous Lamothe- Valois implicated in the affair of the Diamond Necklace. Each of these many chevaliers, if we may believe reports, was, like the Chevalier of Alencon, an old gentleman, tall, thin, withered, and moneyless. He of Bourges had emigrated ; he of Touraine hid himself ; he of Alencon fought in La Vendee and clwuanized some- what. The youth of the latter was spent in Paris, where the Revolution overtook him when thirty years of age in the midst of his conquests and gallantries. The Chevalier de Valois of Alencon was accepted by the highest aristocracy of the province as a genuine Valois ; and he 'distinguished himself, like the rest of his homonyms, by excellent manners, which proved him a man of society. He dined out every day, and played cards every evening. He was thought witty, thanks to his foible for relating a quantity of anec- dotes on the reign of Louis XV. and the beginnings of the Revolution. When these tales were heard for the first time, they were held to be well narrated. He had, moreover, the great merit of not repeating his personal bons mots and of never speaking of his love- affairs, though his smiles and his airs and graces were delightfully indiscreet. The worthy gentleman used his privilege as a Voltairean noble to stay away from An Old Maid. 189 • mass ; and great indulgence was shown to his irreli- gion because of his devotion to the royal cause. One of his particular graces was the air and manner (imi- tated, no doubt, from Mole) with which he took snuff from a gold box adorned with the portrait of the Prin- cess Goritza, — a charming Hungarian, celebrated for her beauty in the last years of the reign of Louis XV. Having been attached during his youth to that illus- trious stranger, he still mentioned her with emotion. For her sake he had fought a duel with Monsieur de Lauzun. The chevalier, now fifty-eight years of age, owned to only fifty ; and he might well allow himself that innocent deception, for, among the other advantages granted to fair thin persons, he managed to preserve the still youthful figure which saves men as well as women from an appearance of old age. Yes, remem- ber this : all of life, or rather all the elegance that expresses life, is in the figure. Among the chevalier's other possessions must be counted an enormous nose with which nature had endowed him. This nose vig- orously divided a pale face into two sections which seemed to have no knowledge of each other, for one side would redden under the process of digestion, while the other continued white. This fact is worthy of remark at a period when physiology is so busy with the human heart. The incandescence, so to call it, was on the left side. Though his long slim legs, sup- porting a lank body, and his pallid skin, were not indi- cative of health, Monsieur de Valois ate like an ogre and declared he had a malady called in the provinces " hot liver," perhaps to excuse his monstrous appetite. 190 An Old Maid. The circumstance of bis singular flush confirmed this declaration ; but in a region where repasts are devel- oped on the line of thirty or forty dishes and last four hours, the chevalier's stomach Would seem to have been a blessing bestowed by Providence on the good town of Alencon. According to certain doctors, heat on the left side denotes a prodigal heart. The chevalier's gallantries confirmed this scientific assertion, the re- sponsibility for which does not rest, fortunately, on the historian. In spite of these symptoms, Monsieur de Valois' con- stitution was vigorous, consequently long-lived. If his liver "heated," to use an old-fashioned word, his heart was not less inflammable. His face was wrinkled and his hair silvered ; but an intelligent observer would have recognized at once the stigmata of passion and the furrows of pleasure which appeared in the crow's-feet and the marches-du-palais, so prized at the court of Cythera. Everything about this dainty chevalier bespoke the " ladies' man." He was so minute in his ablutions that his cheeks were a pleasure to look upon ; they seemed to have been laved in some miraculous water. The part of his skull which his hair refused to cover shone like ivory. His eyebrows, like his hair, affected youth by the care and regularity with which they were combed. His skin, already white, seemed to have been extra-whitened by some secret compound. Without using perfumes, the cheva- lier exhaled a certain fragrance of youth, that re- freshed the atmosphere. His hands, which were those of a gentleman, and were cared for like the hands of a pretty woman, attracted the eye to their rosy, well- An Old Maid. 191 shaped nails. In short, had it not been for his magis- terial and stupendous nose, the chevalier might have been thought a trifle too dainty. We must he*re compel ourselves to spoil this portrait by the avowal of a littleness. The chevalier put cotton in his ears, and wore, appended to them, two little ear-rings representing negroes' heads in dia- monds, of admirable workmanship. He clung to these singular appendages, explaining that since his ears had been bored he had ceased to have headaches (he had had headaches). AVe do not present the chevalier as an accomplished man ; but surely we can pardon, in an old celibate whose heart sends so much blood to his left cheek, these adorable absurdities, founded, perhaps, on some sublime secret history. Besides, the Chevalier de Valois redeemed those negroes' heads by so many other graces that society felt itself sufficiently compensated. He really took such immense trouble to conceal his age and give pleasure to his friends. In the first place, we must call attention to the extreme care he gave to his linen, the only distinction that well-bred men can nowadays exhibit in their clothes. The linen of the chevalier was invariably of a fineness and whiteness that were truly aristocratic. As for his coat, though remarkable for its cleanliness, it was always half worn-out, but without spots or creases. The preservation of that garment was something marvellous to those who noticed the chevalier's high-bred indifference to its shabbiness. He did not go so far as to scrape the seams with glass, — a refinement invented by the Prince of Wales ; but he did practise the rudiments of 192 An Old Maid. English elegance with a personal satisfaction little understood by the people of Alen^on. The world owes a great deal to persons who take such pains to please it. In this there is certainly some accomplish- ment of that most difficult precept of the Gospel about rendering good for evil. This freshness of ablution and all the other little cares harmonized charmingly with the blue eyes, the ivory teeth, and the blond person of the old chevalier. The only blemish was that this retired Adonis had nothing manly about him ; he seemed to be employing this toilet varnish to hide the ruins occasioned by the military service of gallantry only. But we must hasten to add that his voice produced what might be called an antithesis to his blond delicacy. Unless you adopted the opinion of certain observers of the human heart, and thought that the chevalier had the voice of his nose, his organ of speech would have amazed you by its full and redundant sound. Without possessing the volume of colossal bass voices, the tone of it was pleas- ing from a slightly muffled quality like that of an Eng- lish bugle, which is firm and sweet, strong but velvety. The chevalier had repudiated the ridiculous costume still preserved by certain monarchical old men ; he had frankly modernized himself. He was always seen in a maroon-colored coat with gilt buttons, half- tight breeches of poult-de-soie with gold buckles, a white waistcoat without embroidery, and a tight cravat showing no shirt-collar, — a last vestige of the old French costume which he did not renounce, perhaps, because it enabled him to show a neck like that of the sleekest abbe. His shoes were noticeable for their square buckles, a An Old Maid. 193 style of which the present generation has no knowl- edge ; these buckles were fastened to a square of polished black leather. The chevalier allowed two watch-chains to hang parallel to each other from each of his waistcoat pockets, — another vestige of the eighteenth century, which the Incroyables had not dis- dained to use under the Directory. This transition costume, uniting as it did two centuries, was worn by the chevalier with the high-bred grace of an old French marquis, the secret of which is lost to France since the day when Fleury, Mole's last pupil, vanished. The private life of this old bachelor was apparently open to all eyes, though in fact it was quite mysterious. He lived in a lodging that was modest, to say the best of it, in the rue du Cours, on the second floor of a house belonging to Madame Lardot, the best' and busiest washerwoman in the town. This circumstance will explain the excessive nicety of his linen. Ill-luck would have it that the day came when Alencon was guilty of believing that the chevalier had not always comported himself as a gentleman should, and that in fact he was secretly married in his old age to a certain Cesarine, — the mother of a child which had had the impertinence to come into the w r orld without being called for. "He had given his hand," as a certain Monsieur du Bousquier remarked, " to the person who had long had him under irons." This horrible calumny embittered the last days of the dainty chevalier all the more because, as the pres- ent Scene will show, he had lost a hope long cherished to which he had made many sacrifices. 13 194 An Old Maid. Madame Larclot leased to the chevalier two rooms on the second floor of her house, for the modest sum of one hundred francs a year. The worthy gentleman dined out every day, returning only in time to go to bed. His sole expense therefore was for breakfast, invariably composed of a cup of chocolate, with bread and butter and fruits in their season. He made no fire except in the coldest winter, and then only enough to get up by. Between eleven and four o'clock he walked about, went to read the papers, and paid visits. From the time of his settling in Alencon he had nobly ad- mitted his poverty, saying that his whole fortune con- sisted in an annuity of six hundred francs a year, the sole remains of his former opulence, — a propert}' which obliged him to see his man of business (who held the annuity papers) quarterly. In truth, one of the Alencon bankers paid him every three months one hundred and fifty francs, sent down by Monsieur Bordin of Paris, the last of the procureurs du Chatelet. Every one knew these details because the chevalier exacted the utmost secrecy from the persons to whom he first confided them. Monsieur de Valois gathered the fruit of his misfor- tunes. His place at table was laid in all the most dis- tinguished houses in Alencon, and he was bidden to all soirees. His talents as a card-player, a narrator, an amiable man of the highest breeding, were so well known and appreciated that parties would have seemed a failure if the dainty connoisseur was absent. Masters of houses and their wives felt the need of his approving grimace. When a young woman heard the chevalier say at a ball, "You are delightfull} 7 well-dressed!" An Old Maid. 195 she was more pleased at such praise than she would have been at mortifying a rival. Monsieur de Valois was the only man who could perfectly pronounce cer- tain phrases of the olden time. The words, "my heart," "my jewel," "my little pet," "my queen," and the amorous diminutives of 1770, had a grace that was quite irresistible when they came from his lips. In short, the chevalier had the privilege of superlatives. His compliments, of which he was stingy, won the good graces of all the old women ; he made himself agreeable to every one, even to the officials of the government, from whom he wanted nothing. His behavior at cards had a lofty distinction which everybody noticed : he never complained ; he praised his adversaries when they lost ; he did not rebuke or teach his partners by showing them how they ought to have played. When, in the course of a deal, those sickening dissertations on the game would take place, the chevalier invariably drew out his snuff-box with a gesture that was worthy of Mole, looked at the Princess Goritza, raised the cover with dignity, shook, sifted, massed the snuff, and gathered his pinch, so that by the time the cards were dealt he had decorated both nostrils and replaced the princess in his waistcoat pocket, — always on his left side. A gentleman of the good century (in distinction from the grand century) could alone have invented that compromise between contemptuous silence and a sar- casm which might not have been understood. He accepted poor players and knew how to make the best of them. His delightful equability of temper made many persons say, — " I do admire the Chevalier de Valois ! " 196 An Old Maid. His conversation, his manners, seemed blond, like his person. He endeavored to shock neither man nor woman. Indulgent to defects both physical and men- tal, he listened patiently (by the help of the Princess Goritza) to the many dull people who related to him the petty miseries of provincial life, — an egg ill-boiled for breakfast, coffee with feathered cream, burlesque details about health, disturbed sleep, dreams, visits. The chevalier could call up a languishing look, he could take on a classic attitude to feign compassion, which made him a most valuable listener ; he could put in an "Ah!" and a "Bah!" and a "What did you do?" with charming appropriateness. He died without any one suspecting him of even an allusion to the tender passages of his romance with the Princess Goritza. Has any one ever reflected on the service a dead senti- ment can do to society ; how love may become both social and useful ? This will serve to explain why, in spite of his constant winnings at play (he never left a salon without carrying off with him about six francs), the old chevalier remained the spoilt darling of the town. His losses — which, by the bye, he always pro- claimed — were very rare. All who know him declare that they have never met, not even in the Egyptian museum at Turin, so agree- able a mummy. In no country in the world did para- sitism ever take on so pleasant a form. Never did selfishness of a most concentrated kind appear less forth-putting, less offensive, than in this old gentle- man ; it stood him in place of devoted friendship. If some one asked Monsieur de Valois to do him a little service which might have discommoded him, that some An Old Maid. 197 one did not part from the worthy chevalier without being truly enchanted with him, and quite convinced that he either could not do the service demanded, or that he should injure the affair if lie meddled in it. To explain the problematic existence of the cheva- lier, the historian, whom Truth, that cruel wanton, grasps by the throat, is compelled to say that after the "glorious " sad days of July, Alencon discovered that the chevalier's nightly winnings amounted to about one hundred and fifty francs every three months; and that the clever old nobleman had had the pluck to send to himself his annuity in order not to appear in the eyes of a community, which loves the main chance, to be entirely without resources. Many of his friends (he was by that time dead, you will please remark) have contested mordicus this curious fact, declaring it to be a fable, and upholding the Chevalier de Valois as a respectable and worthy gentleman whom the liberals calumniated Luckily for shrewd players, there are people to be found among the spectators who will always sustain them. Ashamed of having to defend a piece of wrong-doing, they stoutly deny it. Do not accuse them of wilful infatuation ; such men have a sense of their dignity ; governments set them the ex- ample of a virtue which consists in burying their dead without chanting; the Miserere of their defeats. If the chevalier did allow himself this bit of shrewd practice, — which, by the bye, would have won him the regard of the Chevalier de Gramont, a smile from the Baron de Foeneste, a shake of the hand from the Marquis de Moncade, — was he any the less that amiable guest, that witty talker, that imperturbable card-player, that 198 An Old Maid. famous teller of anecdotes, in whom all AlenQon took delight? Besides, in what way was this action, which is certainly within the rights of a man's own will, — in what way was it contrary to the ethics of a gentleman? When so many persons are forced to pay annuities to others, what more natural than to pay one to his own best friend ? But La'ius is dead — To return to the period of which we are writing : after about fifteen } 7 ears of this way of life the cheva- lier had amassed ten thousand and some odd hundred francs. On the return of the Bourbons, one of his old friends, the Marquis de Pombreton, formerly lieuten- ant in the Black mousquetaires, returned to him — so he said — twelve hundred pistoles which he had lent to the marquis for the purpose of emigrating. This event made a sensation ; it was used later to refute the sarcasms of the " Constitutionnel," on the method employed by some emigres in paying their debts. When this noble act of the Marquis de Pombreton was lauded before the chevalier, the good man reddened even to his right cheek. Every one rejoiced frankly at this windfall for Monsieur de Valois, w 7 ho went about consulting moneyed people as to the safest manner of investing this fragment of his past opulence. Confiding in the future of the Restoration, he finally placed his money on the Grand-Livre at the moment wdien the Funds were at fifty-six francs and twenty- five centimes. Messieurs de Lenoncourt, de Navar- reins, de Verneuil, de Fontaine, and La Billardiere, to whom he was known, he said, obtained for him, from the king's privy purse, a pension of three hundred francs, and sent him, moreover, the cross of Saint- An Old Maid. 199 Louis. Never was it known positively by what means the old chevalier obtained these two solemn consecra- tions of his title and merits. But one thing is certain ; the cross of Saint-Louis authorized him to take the rank of retired colonel in view of his service in the Catholic armies of the West. Besides his fiction of an annuity, about which no one at the present time knew anything, the chevalier really had, therefore, a bond fide income of a thousand francs. But in spite of this bettering of his circumstances, he made no change in his life, manners, or appearance, except that the red ribbon made a fine effect on his maroon-colored coat, and completed, so to speak, the physiognomy of a gentleman. After 1802, the cheva- lier sealed his letters with a very old seal, ill-engraved to be sure, by which the Casterans, the d'Esgrignons, the Troisvilles were enabled to see that he bore : Party of France, two cottises gemelled gules, and gules, five mascles or, placed end to end ; on a chief sable, a cross argent. For crest, a knight's helmet. For motto : Valeo. Bearing such noble arms, the so- called bastard of the Yalois had the ri°;ht to «;et into all the royal carriages of the world. Many persons envied the quiet existence of this old bachelor, spent on whist, boston, backgammon, re- versi, and piquet, all well played, on dinners well digested, snuff gracefully inhaled, and tranquil walks about the town. Nearly all Alencon believed this life to be exempt from ambitions and serious interests ; but no man has a life as simple as envious neighbors attrib- ute to him. You will find in the most out-of-the way villages human mollnsks, creatures apparently dead, who 200 An Old Maid. have passions for lepidoptera or for conchology, let us say, — beings "who will give themselves infinite pains about moths, butterflies, or the concha Veneris. Not only did the chevalier have his own particular shells, but he cherished an ambitious desire which he pur- sued w 7 ith a craft so profound as to be worthy of Sixtus the Fifth : he wanted to marry a certain rich old maid, with the intention, no doubt, of making her wealth a stepping-stone by which to reach the more elevated regions of the court. There, then, lay the secret of his royal bearing and of his residence in Ale neon. An Old Maid. 201 II. SUSANNAH AND THE ELDERS. On a Wednesday morning, early, toward the middle of spring, in the year 16, — such was his mode of reck- oning, — at the moment when the chevalier was putting on his old green-flowered damask dressing-gown, he heard, despite the cotton in his ears, the light step of a young girl who was running up the stairway. Pres- ently three taps were discreetly struck upon the door ; then, without waiting for any response, a handsome girl slipped like an eel into the room occupied by the old bachelor. "Ah! is it }^ou, Suzanne?" said the Chevalier de Yalois, without discontinuing his occupation, which was that of stropping his razor. "What have you come for, my dear little jewel of mischief? " " I have come to tell you something which may perhaps give you as much pleasure as pain." " Is it anything about Cesarine? " " Cesarine ! much I care about your Cesarine ! " she said with a saucy air, half serious, half indifferent. This charming Suzanne, whose present comical per- formance was to exercise a great influence on the prin- cipal personages of our history, was a work-girl at Madame Lardot's. One word here on the topography of the house. The wash-rooms occupied the whole of 202 An Old Maid. the ground-floor. The little court} 7 ard was used to hang out on wire cords embroidered handkerchiefs, col- larets, capes, cuffs, frilled shirts, cravats, laces, em- broidered dresses, — in short, all the fine linen of the best families of the town. The chevalier assumed to know from the number of her capes in the wash how the love-affairs of the wife of the prefect were going on. Though he guessed much from observations of this kind, the chevalier was discretion itself ; he was never betrayed into an epigram (he had plenty of wit) which might have closed to him an agreeable salon. You are therefore to consider Monsieur de Valois as a man of superior manners, whose talents, like those of many others, were lost in a narrow sphere. Only — for, after all, he was a man — he permitted himself at times certain penetrating glances which could make some women tremble ; although they all loved him heartily as soon as they discovered the depth of his discre- tion and the sympathy that he felt for their little weaknesses. The head woman, Madame Lardot's factotum, an old maid of forty-six, hideous to behold, lived- on the opposite side of the passage to the chevalier. Above them were the attics where the linen was dried in winter. Each apartment had two rooms, — one lighted from the street, the other from the courtyard. Beneath the chevalier's room lived a paralytic, Madame Lar- dot's grandfather, an old buccaneer named Greviu, who had served under Admiral Simeuse in India, and was now stone-deaf. As for Madame Lardot, who occupied the other lodging on the first floor, she had so great a weakness for persons of condition that she An Old Maid. 203 may well have been thought blind to the ways of the chevalier. To her, Monsieur cle Valois was a despotic monarch who did right in all things. Had any of her workwomen been guilty of a happiness attributed to the chevalier she would have said, " He is so lov- able ! " Thus, though the house was of glass, like all provincial houses, it was discreet as a robber's cave. A born confidant to all the little intrigues of the work-rooms, the chevalier never passed the door, which usually stood open, without giving something to his little ducks, — chocolate, bonbons, ribbons, laces, gilt crosses, and such like- trifles adored by grisettes ; con- sequently, the kind old gentleman was adored in return. Women have an instinct which enables them to divine the men who love them, who like to be near them, and exact no payment for gallantries. In this respect women have the instinct of dogs, who in a mixed company will go straight to the man to whom animals are sacred. The poor Chevalier de Yalois retained from his former life the need of bestowing gallant protection, a quality Of the seigneurs of other days. Faithful to the system of the " petite maison," he liked to enrich women, - — the only beings who know how to receive, be- cause they can always return. But the poor chevalier could no longer ruin himself for a mistress. Instead of the choicest bonbons wrapped in bank-bills, he gallantly presented paper-bags full of toffee. Let us say to the glory of Alencon that the toffee was accepted with more joy than la Duthe ever showed at a gilt service or a fine equipage offered by the Comte d'Artois. All these grisettes fully understood the fallen majesty of 204 An Old Maid. the Chevalier de Valois, and they kept their private familiarities with him a profound secret for his sake. If they were questioned about him in certaiu houses when they carried home the linen, they alwa} T s spoke respectfully of the chevalier, and made him out older than he really was ; they talked of him as a most re- spectable monsieur, whose life was a flower of sanctity ; but once in their own regions they perched on his shoulders like so many parrots. He liked to be told the secrets which washerwomen discover in the bosom of households, and day after day these girls would tell him the cancans which were going the round of Alencon. He called them his " petticoat gazettes," his "talking feuilletons." Never did Monsieur de Sartines have spies more intelligent and less expen- sive, or minions who showed more honor while display- ing their rascality of mind. So it may be said that in the mornings, while breakfasting, the chevalier usually amused himself as much as the saints in heaven. Suzanne was one of his favorites, a clever, ambi- tious girl, made of the stuff of a Sophie Arnould, and handsome withal, as the handsomest courtesan invited by Titian to pose on black velvet for a model of Venus ; although her face, fine about the eyes and forehead, degenerated, lower down, into commonness of outline. Hers was a Norman beauty, fresh, high- colored, redundant, the flesh of Rubens covering the muscles of the Farnese Hercules, and not the slender articulations of the Venus de' Medici, Apollo's grace- ful consort. " Well, my child, tell me your great or your little adventure, whatever it is." An Old Maid, 205 The particular point about the chevalier which would have made him noticeable from Paris to Pekiu, was the gentle paternity of his manner to grisettes. They reminded him of the illustrious operatic queens of his early days, whose celebrity was European during a good third of the eighteenth century. It is certain that the old gentleman, who had lived in days gone by with that feminine nation now as much forgotten as many other great things, — like the Jesuits, the Bucca- neers, the Abbes, and the Farmers-General, — had ac- quired an irresistible good-humor, a kindly ease, a laisser-aller devoid of egotism, the self-effacement of Jupiter with Alcmene, of the king intending to be duped, who casts his thunderbolts to the devil, wants his Olympus full of follies, little suppers, feminine profu- sions — but with Juno out of the way, be it understood. In spite of his old green damask dressing-gown and the bareness of the room in which he sat, where the floor was covered with a shabby tapestry in .place of carpet, and the walls were hung with tavern-paper pre- senting the profiles of Louis XVI. and members of his family, traced among the branches of a weeping willow with other sentimentalities invented by royalism dur- ing the Terror, — in spite of his ruins, the chevalier, trimming his beard before a shabby old toilet-table, draped with trumpery lace, exhaled an essence of the eighteenth century. All the libertine graces of his youth reappeared ; he seemed to have the wealth of three hundred thousand francs of debt, while his vis-a- vis waited before the door. He was grand, — like Ber- thier on the retreat from Moscow, issuing orders to an army that existed no longer. 206 An Old Maid. u Monsieur le chevalier," replied Suzanne, drolly, "seems to me I needn't tell you anything; you've only to look." And Suzanne presented a side view of herself which gave a sort of lawyer's comment to her words. The chevalier, who, you must know, was a sly old bird, lowered his right eye on the grisette, still holding the razor at his throat, and pretended to understand. "Well, well y my little duck, we '11 talk about that pres- ently. But you are rather previous, it seems to me." "Why, Monsieur le chevalier, ought I to wait till my mother beats me and Madame Lardot turns me off? If I don't get away soon to Paris, I shall never be able to marry here, where men are so ridiculous." "It can't be helped, my dear; society is changing; women are just as much victims to the present state of things as the nobility themselves. After political overturn comes the overturn of morals. Alas ! before long woman won't exist " (he took out the cotton-wool to arrange his ears) : " she '11 lose everything by rushing into sentiment ; she '11 wring her nerves ; good-bye to all the good little pleasures of our time, desired without shame, accepted without nonsense." (He polished up the little negroes' heads.) " Women had hysterics in those da} T s to get their ends, but now " (he began to laugh) " their vapors end in charcoal. In short, marriage " (here he picked up his pincers to remove a hair) "will become a thing intolerable; whereas it used to be so gay in my day ! The reigns of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. — remember this, my child — said farewell to the finest manners and morals ever known to the world." An Old Maid. 207 " But, Monsieur le chevalier,'' said the grisette, " the matter now concerns the morals and honor of your poor little Suzanne, and I hope you won't abandon her." "Abandon her!" cried the chevalier, finishing his hair; "I 'd sooner abandon my own name." " Ah ! " exclaimed Suzanne. "Now, listen to me, you little mischief," said the chevalier, sitting down on a huge sofa, formerly called a duchesse, which Madame Lardot had been at some pains to find for him. He drew the magnificent Suzanne before him, hold- ing her legs between his knees. She let him do as he liked, although in the street she was offish enough to other men, refusing their familiarities partly from decorum and partly from contempt for their common- ness. She now stood audaciously in front of the chevalier, who, having fathomed in his day many other mysteries in minds that were far more wily, took in the situation at a single glance. He knew very well that no young girl would joke about a real dis- honor ; but he took good care not to knock over the pretty scaffolding of her lie as he touched it. "We slander ourselves," he said with inimitable craft: "we are as virtuous as that beautiful biblical girl whose name we bear ; we can always marry as we please, but we are thirsty for Paris, where charm- ing creatures — and we are no fool — get rich with- out trouble. We want to go and see if the great capital of pleasures has n't some young Chevalier de Valois in store for us, with a carriage, diamonds, an opera-box, and so forth. Russians, Austrians, Brit- 208 An Old Maid. ons, have millions on which we have an eye. Besides, we are patriotic ; we want to help France in getting back her own money from the pockets of those gentry. Hey ! hey ! my dear little devil's duck ! it is n't a bad plan. The world you live in may cry out a bit, but success justifies all things. The worst thing in this world, my dear, is to be without money ; that 's our disease, yours and mine. Now inasmuch as we have plenty of wit, we thought it would be a good thing to parade our dear little honor, -or dishonor, to catch an old boy ; but that old bo} T , my dear heart, knows the Alpha and the Omega of female tricks, — which means that you could easier put salt on a sparrow's tail than make me believe I have anything to do with your little affair. Go to Paris, my dear ; go at the cost of an old celibate, I won't prevent it ; in fact, I '11 help you, for an old bachelor, Suzanne, is the natural money-box of a young girl. But don't drag me into the matter. Listen, my queen, you who know life pretty well ; you would do me great harm and give me much pain, — harm, because you would prevent my marriage in a town where people cling to morality ; pain, because if you are in trouble (which I den} 7 , you sly puss!) I haven't a penny to get you out of it. I 'm as poor as a church mouse ; you know that, my dear. Ah ! if I marry Mademoiselle Cormon, if I am once more rich, of course I would prefer you to Cesarine. You 've always seemed to me as fine as the gold the}' gild on lead ; you were made to be the love of a great seigneur. I think you so clever that the trick you are trying to play off on me does n't surprise me one bit ; I expected it. You are flinging the scabbard An Old Maid. 209 after the sword, and that 's daring for a girl. It takes nerve and superior ideas to do it, my angel, and there- fore you have won my respectful esteem." " Monsieur le chevalier, I assure you, you are mis- taken, and — " She colored, and did not dare to say more. The chevalier, with a single glance, had guessed and fathomed her whole plan. "Yes, yes! I understand: you want me to believe it," he said. " Well! I do believe it. But take my advice : go to Monsieur du Bousquier. Have n't you taken linen there for the last six or eight months? I'm not asking what went on between you; but I know the man : he has immense conceit ; he is an old bachelor, and very rich ; and he only spends a quarter of a comfortable income. If } 7 ou are as clever as I suppose, you can go to Paris at his expense. There, run along, my little doe ; go and twist him round your finger. Only, mind this : be as supple as silk ; at every word take a double turn round him and make a knot. He is a man to fear scandal, and if he has given you a chance to put him in the pillory — in short, you un- derstand ; threaten him with the ladies of the Maternity Hospital. Besides, he's ambitious. A man succeeds through his wife, and you are handsome and clever enough to make the fortune of a husband. Hey ! the mischief ! j t ou could hold your own against all the court ladies." Suzanne, whose mind took in at a flash the cheva- lier's last words, was eager to run off to du Bousquier ; but, not wishing to depart too abruptly, she questioned the chevalier about Paris, all the while helping him 14 210 An Old Maid. to dress. The chevalier, however, divined her desire to be off, and favored it by asking her to tell Cesarine to bring up his chocolate, which Madame Lardot made for him every morning. Suzanne then slipped away to her new victim, whose biography must here be given. Born of an old Alengon family, du Bousquier was a cross between the bourgeois and the country squire. Finding himself without means on the death of his father, he went, like other ruined provincials, to Paris. On the breaking out of the Revolution he took part in public affairs. In spite of revolutionary principles, which made a hobby of republican honesty, the management of public business in those days was by no means clean. A politi- cal spy, a stock-jobber, a contractor, a man who confis- cated in collusion with the syndic of a commune the prop- erty of emigres in order to sell them and buy them in, a minister, and a general were all equally engaged in pub- lic business. From 1793 to 1799 du Bousquier was com- missary of provisions to the French armies. He lived in a magnificent hotel and was one of the matadors of finance, did business with Ouvrard, kept open house, and led the scandalous life of the period, — the life of a Cincinnatus, on sacks of corn harvested without trouble, stolen rations, "little houses" full of mis- tresses, in which were given splendid fetes to the Directors of the Republic. The citizen du Bousquier was one of Barras' fami- liars ; he was on the best of terms with Fouche, stood very well with Bernadotte, and fully expected to become a minister by throwing himself into the party which secretly caballed against Bonaparte until Ma- rengo. If it had not been for Kellermann's charge and An Old Maid. 211 Desaix's death, du Bousquier would probably have become a minister. lie was one of the chief assist- ants of that secret government whom Napoleon's luck sent behind the scenes in 17'.)."). (See "An Historical Mystery.") The unexpected victory of Marengo was the defeat of that party who actually had their procla- mations printed to return to the principles of the Montagne in case the First Consul succumbed. Convinced of the impossibility of Bonaparte's tri- umph, du Bousquier staked the greater part of his property on a fall in the Funds, and kept two couriers on the field of battle. The first started for Paris when Melas' victory was certain ; the second, starting four hours later, brought the news of the defeat of the Austrians. Du Bousquier cursed Kellermann and Desaix ; he dared not curse Bonaparte, who might owe him millions. This alternative of millions to be earned and present ruin staring him in the face, deprived the purveyor of most of his faculties : he became nearly imbecile for several days ; the man had so abused his health by excesses that when the thunder- bolt fell upon him he had no strength to resist. The payment of his bills against the Exchequer gave him some hopes for the future, but, in spite of all efforts to ingratiate himself, Xapoleon's hatred to the contractors who had speculated on his defeat made itself felt ; du Bousquier was left without a sou. The immorality of his private life, his intimacy with Barras and Berna- dotte, displeased the First Consul even more than his manoeuvres at the Bourse, and he struck du Bousquier's name from the list of the government contractors. Out of all his past opulence du Bousquier saved only 212 An Old Maid. twelve hundred francs a year from an investment in the Grand Livre, which he had happened to place there by pure caprice, and which saved him from penury. A man ruined by the First Consul interested the town of Alencon, to which he now returned, where royalism was secretly dominant. Du Bousquier, furious against Bonaparte, relating stories against him of his mean- ness, of Josephine's improprieties, and all the other scandalous anecdotes of the last ten years, was well received. About this time, when he was somewhere between forty and fifty, du Bousquier's appearance was that of a bachelor of thirty-six, of medium height, plump as a purveyor, proud of his vigorous calves, with a strongly marked countenance, a flattened nose, the nostrils garnished with hair, black eyes with thick lashes, from which darted shrewd glances like those of Monsieur de Talleyrand, though somewhat dulled. He still wore republican whiskers and his hair very long ; his hands, adorned with bunches of hair on each knuckle, showed the power of his muscular system in their prominent blue veins. He had the chest of the Farnese Hercules, and shoulders fit to carry the stocks. Such shoulders are seen nowadays only at Tortoni's. This wealth of masculine vigor counted for much in du Bousquier's relations with others. And yet in him, as in the chevalier, symptoms appeared which contrasted oddly with the general aspect of their persons. The late purveyor had not the voice of his muscles. We do not mean that his voice was a mere thread, such as we sometimes hear issuing from the mouth of these wal- ruses ; on the contrary, it was a strong voice, but An Old Maid. 213 stifled, an idea of which can be given only by compar- ing it with the noise of a saw cutting into soft and moistened wood, — the voice of a worn-out speculator. In spite of the claims which the enmity of the First Consul gave Monsieur du Bousquier to enter the royalist society of the province, he was not received in the seven or eight families who composed the faubourg Saint-Germain of Alencon, among whom the Cheva- lier de Valois was welcome. He had offered himself in marriage, through her notary, to Mademoiselle Armande, sister of the most distinguished noble in the town ; to which offer he received a refusal. He con- soled himself as best he could in the society of a dozen rich families, former manufacturers of the old point d'Alengon, owners of pastures and cattle, or merchants doing a wholesale business in linens, among whom, as he hoped, he might find a wealthy wife. In fact, all his hopes now converged to the perspective of a fortu- nate marriage. He was not without a certain financial ability, which many persons used to their profit. Like a ruined gambler who advises neophytes, he pointed out enterprises and speculations, together with the means and chances of conducting them. He was thought a good administrator, and it was often a ques- tion of making him ma} T or of Alencon ; but the memory of his underhand jobbery still clung to him, and he was never received at the prefecture. All the succeeding governments, even that of the Hundred Days, refused to appoint him mayor of Alencon, — a place he coveted, which, could he have had it, would, he thought, have won him the hand of a certain old maid on whom his matrimonial views now turned. 214 An Old Maid. Du Bousquier's aversion to the Imperial government had thrown him at first into the royalist circles of Alencon, where he remained in spite of the rebuffs he received there ; but when, after the first return of the Bourbons, he was still excluded from the prefecture, that mortification inspired him with a hatred as deep as it was secret against the royalists. He now returned to his old opinions, and became the leader of the liberal party in Alencon, the invisible manipulator of elections, and did immense harm to the Restoration by the cleverness of his underhand proceedings and the perfidy of his outward behavior. Du Bousquier, like all those who live by their heads only, carried on his hatreds with the quiet tranquillity of a rivulet, feeble apparently, but inexhaustible. His hatred was that of a negro, so peaceful that it deceived the enemy. His vengeance, brooded over for fifteen years, was as yet satisfied by no victory, not even that of July, 1830. It was not without some private intention that the Chevalier de Valois had turned Suzanne's designs upon Monsieur du Bousquier. The liberal and the royalist had mutually divined each other in spite of the wise dissimulation with which they hid their common hope from the rest of the town. The two old bachelors were secretly rivals. Each had formed a plan to marry the Demoiselle Cormon, whom Monsieur de Valois had mentioned to Suzanne. Both, ensconced in their idea and wearing the armor of apparent indiffer- ence, awaited the moment when some lucky chance might deliver the old maid over to them. Thus, if the two bachelors had not been kept asunder by the two political systems of which they each offered An Old Maid. 215 a living expression, their private rivalry would still have made them enemies. Epochs put their mark on men. These two individuals proved the truth of that axiom by the opposing historic tints that were visible in their faces, in their conversation, in their ideas, and in their clothes. One, abrupt, energetic, with loud, brusque manners, curt, rude speech, dark in tone, in hair, in look, terrible apparently, in reality as impotent as an insurrection, represented the republic admirably. The other, gentle and polished, elegant and nice, attaining his ends by the slow but infallible means of diplomacy, faithful to good taste, was the express image of the old courtier regime. The two enemies met nearly every evening on the same ground. The war was courteous and benign on the side of the chevalier ; but du Bousquier showed less ceremony on his, though still preserving the outward appearances demanded by. society, for he did not wish to be driven from the place. They themselves fully understood each other ; but in spite of the shrewd observation which provincials bestow on the petty interests of their own little centre, no one in the town suspected the rivalry of these two men. Monsieur le Chevalier de Valois occupied a vantage-ground : he had never asked for the hand of Mademoiselle Cormon ; whereas du Bousquier, who entered the lists soon after his rejection by the most distinguished family in the place, had been refused. But the chevalier believed that his rival had still such strong; chances of success that he dealt him this coup de Jarnac with a blade (namely, Suzanne) that was finely tempered for the purpose. The chevalier had cast his plummet-line into the waters 216 An Old Maid. of du Bousquier ; and, as we shall see by the sequel, he was not mistaken in any of his conjectures. Suzanne tripped with a light foot from the rue du Cours, by the rue de la Porte de Se'ez and the rue du Bercail, to the rue du Cygne, where, about five years earlier, du Bousquier had bought a little house built of gray Jura stone, which is something between Breton slate and Norman granite. There he established him- self more comfortably than any householder in town ; for he had managed to preserve certain furniture and decorations from the days of his splendor. But pro- vincial manners and morals obscured, little by little, the rays of this fallen Sardanapalus ; these vestiges of his former luxury now produced the effect of a glass chandelier in a barn. Harmony, that bond of all work, human or divine, was lacking in great things as well as in little ones. The stairs, up which everybody mounted without wiping their feet, were never polished ; the walls, painted by some wretched artisan of the neighborhood, were a terror to the eye ; the stone mantel-piece, ill-carved, "swore "with the handsome clock, which was further degraded by the company of contemptible candlesticks. Like the period which du Bousquier himself represented, the house was a jumble of dirt and magnificence. Being considered a man of leisure, du Bousquier led the same parasite life as the chevalier ; and be who does not spend his income is always rich. His only servant was a sort of Jocrisse, a lad of the neighborhood, rather a ninny, trained slowly and with difficulty to du Bonsquier's requirements. His master had taught him, as he might an orang-outang, to rub the floors, dust the An Old Maid. 217 furniture, black his boots, brush his coats, and bring a lantern to guide him home at night if the weather were cloudy, and clogs if it rained. Like many other human beings, this lad hadn't stuff enough in him for more than one vice ; he was a glutton. Often, w T hen du Bousquier went to a grand dinner, he would take Rene to wait at table ; on such occasions he made him take off his blue cotton jacket, with its big pockets flapping round his hips, and always bulging with handkerchiefs, clasp-knives, fruits, or a handful of nuts, and forced him to put on a regulation coat. Rene would then stuff his fill with the other servants. This duty, which du Bousquier had turned into a reward, won him the most absolute discretion from the Breton servant. " You here, mademoiselle!" said Rene to Suzanne when she entered ; " 't is n't your day. We have n't any linen for the wash, tell Madame Lardot." " Old stupid ! " said Suzanne, laughing. The pretty girl went upstairs, leaving Rene to finish his porringer of buckwheat in boiled milk. Du Bousquier, still in bed, was revolving in his mind his plans of fortune ; for ambition was all that was left to him, as to other men who have sucked dry the orange of pleasure. Ambition and play are inexhaustible ; in a well- organized man the passions which proceed from the brain will always survive the passions of the heart. " Here am I," said Suzanne, sitting down on the bed and jangling the curtaiu-rings back along the rod with despotic vehemence. " Quesaco, my charmer?" said the old bachelor, sit- ting up in bed. " Monsieur," said Suzanne, gravely, " you must be 218 An Old Maid. astonished to see me here at this hour ; but I find my- self in a condition which obliges me not to care for what people may say about it." "What does all that mean?" said du Bousquier, crossing his arms. "•Don't you understand me?" said Suzanne. "I know," she continued, making a pretty little face, " how ridiculous it is in a poor girl to come and nag at a man for what he thinks a mere nothing. But if you really knew me, monsieur, if you knew all that I am capable of for a man who would attach himself to me as much as I'm attached to you, you would never repent having married me. Of course it is n't here, in Alen^on, that I could be of service to you ; but if we went to Paris, you would see where I could lead a man with your mind and your capacities ; and just at this time too, when they are remaking the government from top to toe. So — between ourselves, be it said — is what has happened a misfortune? Isn't it rather a piece of luck, which will pay you well? Who and what are you working for now?" "For myself, of course!" cried du Bousquier, brutally. " Monster ! you '11 never be a father ! " said Suzanne, giving a tone of prophetic malediction to the words. " Come, don't talk nonsense, Suzanne," replied du Bousquier; " I really think I am still dreaming." "How much more reality do you want?' cried Suzanne, standing up. Du Bousquier rubbed his cotton night-cap to the top of his head with a rotatory motion, which plainly in- dicated the tremendous fermentation of his ideas. An Old Maid. 219 He actually believes it!' thought Suzanne, " and he 's flattered. Heaven ! how easy it is to gull men! " " Suzanne, what the devil must I do? It is so extraordinary — I, who thought — The fact is that — No, no, it can't be — " " What? you can't marry me?" " Oh! as for that, no; I have engagements." " With Mademoiselle Armande or Mademoiselle Cormon, who have both refused you? Listen to me, Monsieur du Bousquier, my honor does n't need gendarmes to drag you to the mayor's office. I sha'n't lack for husbands, thank goodness! and I don't want a man who can't appreciate what I am worth. But some day you '11 repent of the way you are behaving ; for I tell you now that nothing on earth, neither gold nor silver, will induce me to return the good thing that belongs to you, if you refuse to accept it to-day." " But, Suzanne, are you sure? " "Oh, monsieur! " cried the grisette, wrapping her virtue round her, " what do you take me for? I don't remind } t ou of the promises you made me, which have ruined a poor young girl whose only blame was to have as much ambition as love." Du Bousquier was torn with conflicting sentiments, joy, distrust, calculation. He had long determined to marry Mademoiselle Cormon ; for the Charter, on which he had just been ruminating, offered to his ambition, through the half of her property, the political career of a deputy. Besides, his marriage with the old maid would put him socially so high in the town that he would have great influence. Consequent!} 7 , the storm upraised by that malicious Suzanne drove him 220 An Old Maid. into the wildest embarrassment. Without this secret scheme, he would have married Suzanne without hesitation. In which case, he could openly assume the leadership of the liberal party in Alencon. After such a marriage he would, of course, renounce the best society and take up with the bourgeois class of trades- men, rich manufacturers and graziers, who would certainly carry him in triumph as their candidate. Du Bousquier already foresaw the Left side. This solemn deliberation he did not conceal; he rubbed his hands over his head, displacing the cap which covered its disastrous baldness. Suzanne, meantime, like all those persons who succeed beyond their hopes, was silent and amazed. To hide her astonishment, she assumed the melancholy pose of an injured girl at the mercy of her seducer ; inwardly she was laughing like a grisette at her clever trick. " My dear child," said du Bousquier at length, 44 I'm not to be taken in with such bosh, not II" Such was the curt remark which ended du Bousquier's meditation. He plumed himself on belonging to the class of cynical philosophers who could never be ''taken in" by women, — putting them, one and all, unto the same category, as suspicious. These strong- minded persons are usually weak men who have a special catechism in the matter of womenkind. To them the whole sex, from queens of France to mil- liners, are essentially depraved, licentious, intriguing, not a little rascally, fundamentally deceitful, and in- capable of thought about anything but trifles. To them, women are evil-doing queans, who must be allowed to dance and sing and laugh as they please ; An Old Maid. 221 they see nothing sacred or saintly in them, nor any- thing grand ; to them there is no poetry in the senses, only gross sensuality. Where such jurisprudence pre- vails, if a woman is not perpetually tyrannized over, she reduces the man to the condition of a slave. Under this aspect du Bousquier was again the antithesis of the chevalier. When he made his final remark, he flung his night-cap to the foot of the bed, as Pope Gregory did the taper when he fulminated an ex- communication ; Suzanne then learned for the first time that du Bousquier wore a toupet covering his bald spot. " Please to remember, Monsieur du Bousquier," she replied majestically, " that in coming here to tell you of this matter I have done my duty ; remember that I have offered you my hand, and asked for yours ; but remember also that I behaved with the dignity of a woman who respects herself. I have not abased my- self to weep like a silly fool ; I have not insisted ; I have not tormented you. You now know my situation. You must see that I cannot stay in Alengon : my mother would beat me, and Madame Lardot rides a hobby of principles ; she '11 turn me off. Poor work- girl that I am, must I go to the hospital? must I beg my bread ? No ! I 'd rather throw nvyself into the Brillante or the Sarthe. But is n't it better that I should go to Paris? My mother could find an excuse to send me there, — an uncle who wants me, or a dying aunt, or a lady who sends for me. But I must have some money for the journey and for — you know what." This extraordinary piece of news was far more 222 An Old Maid. startling to du Bousquier than to the Chevalier de Valois. Suzanne's fiction introduced such confusion into the ideas of the old bachelor that he was literally incapable of sober reflection. Without this agitation and without his inward delight (for vanity is a swindler which never fails of its dupe), he would certainly have reflected that, supposing it were true, a girl like Suzanne, whose heart was not yet spoiled, would have died a thousand deaths before beginning a discussion of this kind and asking for money. " Will you really go to Paris, then? " he said. A flash of gayety lighted Suzanne's gray eyes as she heard those words ; but the self-satisfied du Bousquier saw nothing. "Yes, monsieur," she said. Du Bousquier then began bitter lamentations : he had the last payments to make on his house ; the painter, the mason, the upholsterers must be paid. Suzanne let him run on ; she was listening for the figures. Du Bousquier offered her three hundred francs. Suzanne made what is called on the stage a false exit ; that is, she marched toward the door. "Stop, stop! where are you going?" said du Bousquier, uneasily. "This is what comes of a bachelor's life! " thought he. "The devil take me if I ever did anything more than rumple her collar, and, lo and behold ! she makes that a ground to put her hand in one's pocket ! " "I'm going, monsieur," replied Suzanne, "to Madame Granson, the treasurer of the Maternity Society, who, to my knowledge, has saved many a poor girl in my condition from suicide." An Old Maid. 223 "Madame Grauson ! " "Yes," said Suzanne, "a relation of Mademoiselle Cormon, the president of the Maternity Society. Sav- ing your presence, the ladies of the town have created an institution to prevent poor creatures from destroying their infants, like that handsome Faustine of Argentan who was executed for it three years ago." "Here, Suzanne," said du Bousquier, giving her a key, " open that secretary, and take out the bag you '11 find there : there 's about six hundred francs in it ; it is all I possess." "Old cheat!" thought Suzanne, doing as he told her, "I'll tell about your false toupet." She compared du Bousquier with that charming chevalier, who had given her nothing, it is true, but who had comprehended her, advised her, and carried all grisettes in his heart. " If you deceive me, Suzanne," cried du Bousquier, as he saw her with her hand in the drawer, " you — " - "Monsieur," she said, interrupting him with in- effable impertinence, "wouldn't you have given me money if I had asked for it?" Recalled to a sense of gallantry, du Bousquier had a remembrance of past happiness and grunted his assent. Suzanne took the bag and departed, after allowing the old bachelor to kiss her, which he did with an air that seemed to say, "It is a right which costs me dear ; but it is better than being harried by a lawyer in the court of assizes as the seducer of a girl accused of infanticide." Suzanne hid the sack in a sort of gamebag made of osier which she had on her arm, all the while cursing 224 An Old Maid. du Bousquier for his stinginess ; for one thousand francs was the sum she wanted. Once tempted of the devil to desire that sum, a girl will go far when she has set foot on the path of trickery. As she made her way along the rue du Bercail, it came into her head that the Maternity Society, presided over by Mademoi- selle Cormon, might be induced to complete the sum at which she had reckoned her journey to Paris, which to a grisette of Alencon seemed considerable. Besides,, she hated du Bousquier. The latter had evidently feared a revelation of his supposed misconduct to Madame Granson ; and Suzanne, at the risk of not getting a penny from the society, was possessed with the desire, on leaving Alencon, of entangling the old bachelor in the inextricable meshes of a provincial slander. In all grisettes there is something of the malevolent mischief of a monkey. Accordingly, Suzanne now went to see Madame Granson, composing hpr face to an expression of the deepest dejection. An Old Maid. 225 III. ATHANASE. Madame Granson, widow of a lieutenant-colonel of artillery killed at Jena, possessed, as her whole means of livelihood, a meagre pension of nine hundred francs a year, and three hundred francs from property of her own, plus a son whose support and education had eaten up all her savings. She occupied, in the rue du Bercail, one of those melancholy ground-floor apart- ments which a traveller passing along the principal street of a little provincial town can look through at a glance. The street door opened at the top of three steep steps ; a passage led to an interior courtyard, at the end of which was the staircase covered by a wooden gallery. On one side of the passage was the dining-room and the kitchen ; on the other side, a salon put to many uses, and the widow's bedchamber. Athanase Granson, a young man twenty-three years of age, who slept in an attic room above the second floor of the house, added six hundred francs to the in- come of his poor mother, by the salary of a little place which the influence of his relation, Mademoiselle Cormon, had obtained for him in the mayor's office, where he was placed in charge of the archives. From these indications it is easy to imagine Madame Granson in her cold salon with its yellow curtains and 15 226 An Old Maid, Utrecht velvet furniture, also yellow, as she straightened the round straw mats which were placed before each chair, that visitors might not soil the red-tiled floor while they sat there ; after which she returned to her cushioned armchair and little work-table placed be- neath the portrait of the lieutenant-colonel of artillery between two windows, — a point from which her eye could rake the rue du Bercail and see all coiners. She was a good woman, dressed with bourgeois simplicity in keeping with her wan face furrowed by grief. The rigorous humbleness of poverty made itself felt in all the accessories of this household, the very air of which was charged with the stern and upright morals of the provinces. At this moment the son and mother were together in the dining-room, where they were breakfasting on a cup of coffee, with bread and butter and radishes. To make the pleasure which Suzanne's visit was to give to Madame Granson in- telligible, we must explain certain secret interests of the mother and son. Athanase Granson was a thin and pale young man, of medium height, with a hollow face in which his two black eyes, sparkling with thoughts, gave the effect of bits of coal. The rather irregular lines of his face, the curve of his lips, a prominent chin, the fine modelling of his forehead, his melancholy countenance, caused by a sense of his poverty warring with the powers that he felt within him, were all indications of repressed and imprisoned talent. In any other place than the town of Alencon the mere aspect of his person would have won him the assistance of superior men, or of women who are able to recognize genius in obscurity. If his was An Old Maid. 227 Dot genius, it was at any rate the form and aspect of it ; if be had not the actual force of a great heart, the glow of such a heart was in his glance. Although he was capable of expressing the highest feeling, a casing" of timidity destroyed all the graces of his youth, just as the ice of poverty kept him from daring to put forth his powers. Provincial life, without an opening, without appreciation, without encouragement, described a circle about him in which languished and died the power of thought, — a power which as yet had scarcely reached its dawn. Moreover, Athanase possessed that savage pride which poverty intensities in noble minds, exalting them in their struggle with men and things ; although at their start in life it is an obstacle to their advancement. Genius proceeds in two ways : either it takes its opportunity — like Napoleon, like Moliere — the moment that it sees it, or it waits to be sought when it has patiently revealed itself. Young Gran son belonged to that class of men of talent, who distrust themselves and are easily discouraged. His soul was contemplative. He lived more by thought than by action. Perhaps he might have seemed deficient or incomplete to those who cannot conceive of genius without the sparkle of French passion ; but he was powerful in the world of mind, and he was liable to reach, through a series of emotions imperceptible to common souls, those sudden determinations which make fools say of a man, "He is mad." The contempt which the world pours out on poverty was death to Athanase ; the enervating heat of solitude, without a breath or current of air, relaxed the bow which ever strove to tighten itself ; his soul grew weary 228 An Old Maid. in this painful effort without results. Athanase was a man who might have taken his place among the glories of France ; but, eagle as he was, cooped in a cage without his proper nourishment, he was about to die of hunger after contemplating with an ardent eye the fields of air and the mountain heights where genius soars. His work in the city library escaped attention, and he buried in his soul his thoughts of fame, fearing that they might injure him ; but deeper than all lay buried within him the secret of his heart, — a passion which hollowed his cheeks and yellowed his brow. He loved his distant cousin, this very Mademoiselle Cormon whom the Chevalier de Valois and du Bousquier, his hidden rivals, were stalking. This love had had its origin in calculation. Mademoiselle Cormon was thought to be one of the richest persons in the town : the poor lad had therefore been led to love her by desires for material happiness, by the hope, long indulged, of gilding with comfort his mother's last years, by eager lonoino- for the ease of life so needful to men who live by thought ; but this most innocent point of departure degraded his passion in his own eyes. Moreover, he feared the ridicule the world would cast upon the love of a young man of twenty-three for an old maid of forty. And yet his passion was real ; whatever may seem false about such a love elsewhere, it can be realized as a fact in the provinces, where, manners and morals being without change or chance or movement or mystery, marriage becomes a necessity of life. No family will accept a young man of dissolute habits. However natural the liaison of a young man, like An Old Maid. 229 Athanase, with a handsome girl, like Suzanne, for instance, might seem in a capital, it alarms provincial parents, and destroys the hopes of marriage of a poor young man when possibly the fortune of a rich one might cause such an unfortunate antecedent to be overlooked. Between the depravity of certain liaisons and a sincere love, a man of honor and no fortune will not hesitate : he prefers the misfortunes of virtue to the evils of vice. But in the provinces women with whom a young man can fall in love are rare. A rich young girl he cannot obtain in a region where all is calculation; a poor young girl he is prevented from loving; it would be, as provincials say, marrying hunger and thirst. Such monkish solitude is, however, dangerous to youth. These reflections explain why provincial life is so firmly based on marriage. Thus we find that ardent and vigorous genius, forced to rely on the independ- ence of its own poverty, quits these cold regions where thought is persecuted by brutal indifference, where no woman is willing to be a sister of charity to a man of talent, of art, of science. Who will really understand Athanase Granson's love for Mademoiselle Cormon? Certainly neither rich men — those sultans of society who fill their harems — nor middle-class men, who follow the well-beaten high- road of prejudices ; nor women who, not choosing to understand the passions of artists, impose the yoke of their virtues upon men of genius, imagining that the two sexes are governed by the same laws. Here, perhaps, we should appeal to those young men who suffer from the repression of their first desires 230 An Old Maid. at the moment when all their forces are developing ; to artists sick of their own genius smothering under the pressure of poverty ; to men of talent, persecuted and without influence, often without friends at the start, who have ended by triumphing over that double anguish, equally agonizing, of soul and body. Such men will well understand the lancinating pains of the cancer which was now consuming Athanase ; they have gone through those Ions: and bitter deliberations made in presence of some grandiose purpose they had not the means to carry out ; they have endured those secret miscarriages in which the fructifying seed of genius falls on arid soil. Such men know that the grandeur of desires is in proportion to the height and breadth of the imagination. The higher they spring, the lower they fall ; and how can it be that ties and bonds should not be broken by such a fall? Their piercing eye has seen — as did Athanase — the bril- liant future which awaited them, and from which they fancied that only a thin gauze parted them ; but that gauze through which their eyes could see is changed by Society to a wall of iron. Impelled by a vocation, by a sentiment of art, they endeavor again and again to live by sentiments which society as incessantly ma- terializes. Alas ! the provinces calculate and arrange marriage with the one view of material comfort, and a poor artist or man of science is forbidden to double its purpose and make it the saviour of his genius by securing to him the means of subsistence ! Moved by such ideas, Athanase Granson first thought of marriage with Mademoiselle Cormon as a means of obtaining a livelihood which would be permanent. An Old Maid. 231 Thence he conM rise to fame, and make his mother happy, knowing at the same time that he was capable of faithfully loving his wife. But soon his own will created, although he did not know it, a genuine pas- 'sion. He began to study the old maid, and, by dint of the charm which habit gives, he ended by seeing only her beauties and ig;noringj her defects. In a young man of twenty-three the senses count for much in love ; their fire produces a sort of prism between his eyes and the woman. From this point of view the clasp with which Beaumarchais' Cherubin seizes Marceline is a stroke of genius. But when we reflect that in the utter isolation to which poverty con- demned poor Athanase, Mademoiselle Cormon was the only figure presented to his gaze, that she attracted his eye incessantly, that all the light he had was con- centrated in her, surely his love may be considered natural. This sentiment, so carefully hidden, increased from day to day. Desires, sufferings, hopes, and medita- tions swelled in quietness and silence the lake widen- ing ever in the } T oung man's breast, as hour by hour added its drop of water to the volume. And the wider this inward circle, drawn by the imagination, aided by the senses, grew, the more imposing Made- moiselle Cormon appeared to Athanase, and the more his own timidity increased. The mother had divined the truth. Like all provin- cial mothers, she calculated candidly in her own mind the advantages of the match. She told herself that Mademoiselle Cormon would be very luck} 7 to secure a husband in a young man of twenty-three, full of talent, 232 An Old Maid. who would always be an honor to his family and the neighborhood ; at the same time the obstacles which her son's want of fortune and Mademoiselle Cormon's age presented to the marriage seemed to her almost insurmountable ; she could think of nothing; but patience as being able to vanquish them. Like du Bousquier, like the Chevalier de Valois, she had a policy of her own; she was on the watch for circum- stances, awaiting the propitious moment for a move with the shrewdness of maternal instinct. Madame Gran son had no fears at all as to the chevalier, but she did suppose that du Bousquier, although refused, retained certain hopes. As an able and underhand enemy to the latter, she did him much secret harm in the interests of her son ; from whom, by the b} T e, she carefully concealed all such proceedings. After this explanation it is easy to understand the importance which Suzanne's lie, confided to Madame Granson, was about to acquire. AVhat a weapon put into the hands of this charitable lady, the treasurer of the Maternity Society ! How she would gently and demurely spread the news while collecting assistance for the chaste Suzanne ! At the present moment Athanase, leaning pensively on his elbow at the breakfast table, was twirling his spoon in his empty cup and contemplating with a pre- occupied eye the poor room with its red brick floor, its straw chairs, its painted wooden buffet, its pink and white curtains chequered like a backgammon board, which communicated with the kitchen through a glass door. As his back was to the chimney which his mother faced, and as the chimney was opposite to An Old Maid. 233 the door, his pallid face, strongly lighted from the window, framed in beautiful black hair, the eyes gleam- ing with despair and fiery with morning thoughts, was the first object which met the eyes of the incoming Suzanne. The grisette, who belonged to a class which certainly has the instinct of misery and the sufferings of the heart, suddenly felt that electric spark, dart- ing from Heaven knows where, which can never be explained, which some strong minds deny, but the sympathetic stroke of which has been felt by many men and many women. It is at once a light which lightens the darkness of the future, a presentiment of the sacred joys of a shared love, the certainty of mutual comprehension. Above all, it is like the touch of a firm and able hand on the keyboard of the senses. The eyes are fascinated by an irresist- ible attraction ; the heart is stirred ; the melodies of happiness echo in the soul and in the ears ; a voice cries out, "It is he!' Often reflection casts a douche of cold water on this boiling emotion, and all is over. In a moment, as rapid as the flash of the lightning, Suzanne received the broadside of this emotion in her heart. The flame of a real love burned up the evil weeds fostered by a libertine and dissipated life. She saw how much she was losing of decency and value by accusing herself falsely. What had seemed to her a joke the night before became to her eyes a serious charge against herself. She recoiled at her own suc- cess. But the impossibility of any result ; the poverty of the young man ; a vague hope of enriching herself, of going to Paris and returning with full hands to say, 234 An Old Maid. "I love you! here are the means of happiness! " or mere fate, if you will have it so, dried up the next moment this beneficent dew. The ambitious grisette asked with a timid air for a moment's interview with Madame Granson, who took her at once into her bedchamber. When Suzanne came out she looked again at Athanase ; he was still in the same position, and the tears came into her eyes. As for Madame Granson, she was radiant with joy. At last she had a- weapon, and a terrible one, against du Bousquier ; she could now deal him a mortal blow. She had of course promised the poor seduced girl the support of all charitable ladies and that of the mem- bers of the Maternity Society in particular ; she fore- saw a dozen visits which would occupy her whole day, and brew up a frightful storm on the head of the guilty du Bousquier. The Chevalier de Valois, while fore- seeing the turn the affair would take, had really no idea of the scandal which would result from his own action. " My dear child," said Madame Granson to her son, "we are to dine, you know, with Mademoiselle Cor- mon ; do take a little pains with your appearance. You are wrong to neglect your dress as you do. Put on that handsome frilled shirt and your green coat of Elbeuf cloth. I have my reasons," she added slyly. " Besides, Mademoiselle Cormon is going to Prebau- det, and many persons will doubtless call to bid her good-bye. When a young man is marriageable he ought to take every means to make himself agreeable. If girls would onl} T tell the truth, heavens ! my dear boy, you 'd be astonished at what makes them fall in love. An Old Maid. 235 Often it suffices for a man to ride past them at the head of a company of artillery, or show himself at a hall in tiuht clothes. Sometimes a mere turn of the head, a melancholy attitude, makes them suppose a man's whole life ; they '11 invent a romance to match the hero — who is often a mere brute, but the marriage is made. Watch the Chevalier de Valois : study him ; copy his manners ; see with what ease he presents him- self ; he never puts on a stiff air, as you do. Talk a little more ; one would really think you did n't know anything, — you, who know Hebrew by heart." Athanase listened to his mother with a surprised but submissive air; then he rose, took his cap, and went off to the mayor's office, saying to himself, "Can my mother suspect my secret? " He passed through the rue du Val-Noble, where Mademoiselle Cormon lived, — a little pleasure which he gave himself every morning, thinking, as usual, a varietv of fanciful things : — " How little she knows that a young man is passing before her house who loves her well, who would be faithful to her, who would never cause her any grief ; who would leave her the entire management of her fortune without interference. Good God ! what fatal- ity ! here, side by side, in the same town, are two persons in our mutual condition, and yet nothing can bring them together. Suppose I were to speak to her this evening?" ' During this time Suzanne had returned to her mother's house thinking of Athanase ; and, like many other women who have longed to help an adored man beyond the limit of human powers, she felt herself 236 An Old Maid. capable of making her body a stepping-stone on which he could rise to attain his throne. It is now necessary to enter the house of this old maid toward whom so many interests are converging, where the actors in this scene, with the exception of Suzanne, were all to meet this very evening. As for Suzanne, that handsome individual bold enough to burn her ships like Alexander at her start in life, and to begin the battle by a falsehood, she disappears from the stage, having introduced upon it a violent element of interest. Her utmost wishes were gratified. She quitted her native town a few days later, well supplied with money and good clothes, among which was a fine dress of green reps and a charming green bonnet lined with pink, the gift of Monsieur de Valois, — a present which she preferred to all the rest, even the money. If the chevalier had gone to Paris in the days of her future brilliancy, she would certainly have left every one for him. Like the chaste Susannah of the Bible, whom the Elders scarcely saw, she established herself joyously and full of hope in Paris, while all Alencon was deploring her misfortunes, for which the ladies of two Societies (Charity and Maternity) manifested the liveliest sympathy. Though Suzanne is a fair speci- men of those handsome Norman women whom a learned physician reckons as comprising one-third of the fallen class whom our monstrous Paris absorbs, it must be stated that she remained in the upper and more decent regions of gallantry. At an epoch when, as Monsieur de Valois said, Woman no longer existed, she was simply "Madame du Val-Noble ; " in other days she would have rivalled the Rhodopes, the Imp^rias, the An Old Maid. 237 Ninons of the past. One of the most distinguished writers of the Restoration has taken her under his protection ; perhaps he may marry her. He is a journalist, and consequently above public opinion, inasmuch as he manufactures it afresh every year or two. 238 An Old Maid. IV. MADEMOISELLE CORMON. In nearly all the second-class prefectures of France there exists one salon which is the meeting-ground of those considerable and well-considered persons of the community who are, nevertheless, not the cream of the best society. The master and mistress of such an establishment are counted among the leading persons of the town ; they are received wherever it may please them to visit; no fete is given, no formal or diplomatic dinner takes place, to which they are not invited. But the chateau people, heads of families possessing great estates, in short, the highest personages in the depart- ment, do not go to their houses ; social intercourse be- tween them is carried on by cards from one to the other, and a dinner or soiree accepted and returned. This salon, in which the lesser nobility, the clergy, and the magistracy meet together, exerts a great in- fluence. The judgment and mind of the region reside in that solid, unostentatious society, where each man knows the resources of his neighbor, where complete indifference is shown to luxury and dress, — pleasures which are thought childish in comparison to that of obtaining ten or twelve acres of pasture land, — a pur- chase coveted for years, which has probably given rise to endless diplomatic combinations. Immovable in An Old Maid. 239 its prejudices, good or evil, this social circle follows a beaten track, looking neither before it nor behind it. It accepts nothing from Paris without long examina- tion and trial; it rejects cashmeres as it does invest- ments on the Grand- Livre; it scoffs at fashions and novelties; reads nothing, prefers ignorance, whether of science, literature, or industrial inventions. It insists on the removal of a prefect when that official does not suit it; and if the administration resists, it isolates him, after the manner of bees who wall up a snail in wax when it gets into their hive. In this society gossip is often turned into solemn verdicts. Young women are seldom seen there ; when they come it is to seek approbation of their conduct, — a consecration of their self-importance. This supremacy granted to one house is apt to wound the sensibilities of other natives of the region, who con- sole themselves by adding up the cost it involves, and by which they profit. If it so happens that there is no fortune large enough to keep open house in this way, the big-wigs of the place choose a place of meet- ing, as they did at Alengon, in the house of some inoffensive person, whose settled life and character and position offers no umbrage to the vanities or in- terests of any one. For some years the upper classes of Alencon had met in this way at the house of an old maid, whose fortune was, unknown to herself, the aim and object of Madame Granson, her second cousin, and of the two old bachelors whose secret hopes in that direction we have just unveiled. This lady lived with her maternal uncle, a former grand-vicar of the bishopric 240 An Old Maid. of Seez, once her guardian, and whose heir she was. The family of which Rose-Marie-Victoire Cormon was the present representative had been in earlier days among the most considerable in the province. Though belonging to the middle classes, she consorted with the nobility, among whom she was more or less allied, her family having furnished, in past years, stewards to the Due d'Alencon, many magistrates to the long robe, and various bishops to the clergy. Monsieur de Sponde, the maternal grandfather of Mademoiselle Cormon, was elected by the Nobility to the States- General, and Monsieur Cormon, her father, by the Tiers-Etat, though neither accepted the mission. For the last hundred years the daughters of the family had married nobles belonging to the province; conse- quently, this family had thrown out so many suckers throughout the duchy as to appear on nearly all the genealogical trees. No bourgeois family had ever seemed so like nobility. The house in which Mademoiselle Cormon lived, built in Henri IV. 's time, by Pierre Cormon, the steward of the last Due d'Alencon, had always belonged to the family; and among the old maid's visible possessions this one was particularly stimulating to the covetous desires of the two old lovers. Yet, far from producing revenue, the house was a cause of ex- pense. But it is so rare to find in the very centre of a provincial town a private dwelling without unpleasant surroundings, handsome in outward structure and con- venient within, that Alencon shared the envy of the lovers. This old mansion stands exactly in the middle of An Old Maid. 241 the rue du Yal-Xoble. It is remarkable for the strength of its construction, — a style of building in- troduced by Marie de' Medici. Though built of gran- ite, — a stone which is hard to work, — its angles, and the casings of the doors and windows, are decorated with corner blocks cut into diamond facets. It has only one clear story above the ground-floor; but the roof, rising steeply, has several projecting windows, with carved spandrels rather elegantly enclosed in oaken frames, and externally adorned with balustrades. Between each of these windows is a gargoyle present- ing the fantastic jaws of an animal without a body, vomiting the rain-water upon large stones pierced with five holes. The two gables are surmounted by leaden bouquets, — a symbol of the bourgeoisie; for nobles alone had the privilege in former days of having weather-vanes. To right of the courtyard are the stables and coach-house; to left, the kitchen, wood- house, and laundry. One side of the porte-cochere^ being left open, allowed the passers in the street to see in the midst of the vast courtyard a flower-bed, the raised earth of which was held in place by a low privet hedge. A few monthly roses, pinks, lilies, and Spanish broom filled this bed, around which, in the summer season boxes of laures- tinus, pomegranates, and myrtle were placed. Struck by the scrupulous cleanliness of the courtyard and its dependencies, a stranger would at once have divined that the place belonged to an old maid. The eye which presided there must have been an unoccu- pied, ferreting eye; minutely careful, less from nature, than for want of something to do. An old maid, 16 242 An Old Maid. forced to employ her vacant days, could alone see to the grass being hoed from between the paving-stones, the tops of the walls kept clean, the broom continually going, and the leather curtains of the coach-house always closed. She alone would have introduced, out of busy idleness, a sort of Dutch cleanliness into a house on the confines of Bretagne and Normandie, — a region where they take pride in professing an utter indifference to comfort. Never did the Chevalier de Valois, or du Bousquier, mount the steps of the double stairway leading to the portico of this house without saying to himself, one, that it was fit for a peer of France, the other, that the mayor of the town ought to live there. A glass door gave entrance from this portico into an antechamber, a species of gallery paved in red tiles and wainscoted, which served as a hospital for the family portraits, — some having an eye put out, ethers suffering from a dislocated shoulder; this one held his hat in a hand that no longer existed; that one was a case of amputation at the knee. Here were deposited the cloaks, clogs, overshoes, umbrellas, hoods, and pelisses of the guests. It was an arsenal where each arrival left his baggage on arriving, and took it up when departing. Along each wall was a bench for the servants who arrived with lanterns, and a large stove, to counteract the north wind, which blew through this hall from the garden to the courtyard. The house was divided in two equal parts. On one side, toward the courtyard, was the well of the stair- case, a large dining-room looking to the garden, and an office or pantry which communicated with the An Old Maid. 243 kitchen. On the other side was the salon, with four windows, beyond which were two smaller rooms, — one looking on the garden, and used as a boudoir, the other lighted from the courtyard, and used as a sort of office. The upper floor contained a complete apartment for a family household, and a suite of rooms where the venerable Abbe de Sponde had his abode. The garrets offered fine quarters to the rats and mice, whose noc- turnal performances were related by Mademoiselle Cormon to the Chevalier de Valois, with many expres- sions of surprise at the inutility of her efforts to get rid of them. The garden, about half an acre in size, is margined by the Brillante, so named from the par- ticles of mica which sparkle in its bed elsewhere than in the Val-Noble, where its shallow waters are stained by the dyehouses, and loaded with refuse from the other industries of the town. The shore opposite to Mademoiselle Cormon's garden is crowded with houses where a variety of trades are carried on ; happily for her, the occupants are quiet people, — a baker, a cleaner, an upholsterer, and several bourgeois. The garden, full of common flowers, ends in a natural ter- race, forming a qua} 7 , down which are several steps leading to the river. Imagine on the balustrade of this terrace a number of tall vases of blue and white pottery, in which are gilliflowers ; and to right and left, along the neighboring walls, hedges of linden closely trimmed in, and you will gain an idea of the landscape, full of tranquil chastity, modest cheerfulness, but common- place withal, which surrounded the venerable edifice of the Cormon family. What peace! what tranquil- 244 An Old Maid. lit} 7 ! nothing pretentious, but nothing transitory; all seems eternal there! The ground-floor is devoted wholly to the reception- rooms. The old, unchangeable provincial spirit per- vades them. The great square salon has four win- dows, modestly cased in woodwork painted gray. A single oblong mirror is placed above the fireplace; the top of its frame represented the Dawn led by the Hours, and painted in cama'ieu (two shades of one color). This style of painting infested the decorative art of the day, especially above door-frames, where the artist displayed his eternal Seasons, and made you, in mast houses in the centre of France, abhor the odious Cupids, endlessly employed in skating, glean- ing, twirling, or garlanding one another with flowers. Each window was draped in green damask curtains, looped up by heavy cords, which made them resemble a vast dais. The furniture, covered with tapestry, the woodwork, painted and varnished, and remarkable for the twisted forms so much the fashion in the last century, bore scenes from the fables of La Fontaine on the chair-backs; some of this tapestry had been mended. The ceiling was divided at the centre of the room by a huge beam, from which depended an old chandelier of rock-crystal swathed in green gauze. On the fireplace were two vases in Sevres blue, and two old girandoles attached to the frame of the mirror, and a clock, the subject of which, taken from the last scene of the "Deserteur," proved the enormous popu- larity of Sedaine's work. This clock, of bronze-gilt, bore eleven personages upon it, each about four inches tall. At the back the Deserter was seen issuing from An Old Maid. 245 prison between the soldiers; in the foreground the young woman lay fainting," and pointing to his pardon. On the walls of this salon were several of the more recent portraits of the family, — one or two by Rigand, and three pastels by Latonr. Four card tables, a back- gammon board, and a piquet table occupied the vast room, the only one in the house, by the bye, which was ceiled. The dining-room, paved in black and white stone, not ceiled, and its beams painted, was furnished with one of those enormous sideboards with marble tops, required by the war waged in the provinces against the human stomach. The walls, painted in fresco, represented a flowery trellis. The seats were of var- nished cane, and the doors of natural wood. All things about the place carried out the patriarchal air which emanated from the inside as well as the outside of the house. The genius of the provinces preserved everything; nothing was new or old, neither young nor decrepit. A cold precision made itself felt throughout. CD Tourists in Normandy, Brittany, Maine, and Anjou must all have seen in the capitals of those provinces many houses which resemble more or less that of the Cormons; for it is, in its way, an archetype of the burgher houses in that region of France, and it de- serves a place in this history because it serves to ex- plain manners and customs, and represents ideas. Who does not already feel that life must have been calm and monotonously regular in this old edifice? It contained a library; but that was placed below the level of the river. The books were well bound and 246 An Old Maid. shelved, and the dust, far from injuring them, only made them valuable. They were preserved with the care given in these provinces deprived of vineyards to other native products, desirable for their antique perfume, and issued by the presses of Bourgogne, Touraine, Gascogue, and the South. The cost of transportation was too great to allow any but the best products to be imported. The basis of Mademoiselle Cormon's society con- sisted of about one hundred and fifty persons; some went at times to the country ; others were occasionally ill; a few travelled about the department on business; but certain of the faithful came every night (unless invited elsewhere), and so did certain others com- pelled by duties or by habit to live permanently in the town. All the personages were of ripe age; few among them had ever travelled; nearly all had spent their lives in the provinces, and some had taken part in the chouannerie. The latter were beginning to speak fearlessly of that war, now that rewards were being showered on the defenders of the good cause. Mon- sieur de Valois, one of the movers in the last uprising (during which the Marquis de Montauran, betrayed by his mistress, perished in spite of the devotion of Marche-a-Terre, now tranquilly raising cattle for the market near Mayenne), — Monsieur de Valois had, during the last six months, given the key to several choice stratagems practised upon an old repub- lican named Hulot, the commander of a demi-brigade stationed at Alencon from 1798 to 1800, w r ho had left many memories in the place. [See "The Chouans."] The women of this society took little pains with An Old Maid. 247 their dress, except on Wednesdays, when Mademoiselle Cormon gave a dinner, on which occasion the guests invited on the previous Wednesday paid their "visit of digestion." Wednesdays were gala daj^s: the assembly was numerous; guests and visitors appeared in fiocchi ; some women brought their sewing, knitting, or worsted work; the young girls were not ashamed to make patterns for the Alencon point lace, with the proceeds of which they paid for their personal ex- penses. Certain husbands brought their wives out of policj 7 , for young men were few in that house; not a word could be whispered in any ear without attracting the attention of all; there was therefore no danger, either for young girls or wives, of love-making. Every evening, at six o'clock, the long antechamber received its furniture. Each habitue brought his cane, his cloak, his lantern. All these persons knew each other so well, and their habits and ways were so famil- iarly patriarchal, that if by chance the old Abbe de Sponde was lying down, or Mademoiselle Cormon was in her chamber, neither Josette, the maid, nor Jacque- lin, the man-servant, nor Mariette, the cook, informed them. The first comer received the second; then, when the company were sufficiently numerous for whist, piquet, or boston, they began the game with- out awaiting either the Abbe de Sponde or made- moiselle. If it was dark, Josette or Jacquelin would hasten to light the candles as soon as the first bell rang. Seeing the salon lighted up, the abbe would slowly hurry to come down. Every evening the back- gammon and the piquet tables, the three boston tables, and the whist table were filled, — which gave occupa- 248 An Old Maid. tion to twenty-five or thirty persons; but as many as forty were usually present. Jacquelin would then light the candles in the other rooms. Between eight and nine o'clock the servants began to arrive in the antechamber to accompany their mas- ters home; and, short of a revolution, no one remained in the salon at ten o'clock. At that hour the guests were departing in groups along the streets, discoursing on the game, or continuing conversations on the land the}^ were covetous of buying, on the terms of some one's will, on quarrels among heirs, on the haughty assumption of the aristocratic portion of the com- munity. It was like Paris when the audience of a theatre disperses. Certain persons who talk much of poesy and know nothing about it, declaim against the habits of life in the provinces. But put your forehead in your left hand, rest one foot on the fender, and your elbow on your knee; then, if you compass the idea of this quiet and uniform scene, this house and its interior, this company and its interests, heightened by the pettiness of its intellect like goldleaf beaten between sheets of parchment, ask yourself, What is human life? Try to decide between him who scribbles jokes on Egyptian obelisks, and him who has "bostoned" for twenty years with Du Bousquier, Monsieur de Valois, Mademoiselle Cormon, the judge of the court, the king's attorney, the Abbe de Sponde, Madame Gran- son, and tatti quantL If the daily and punctual return of the same steps to the same path is not happiness, it imitates happiness so well that men driven by the storms of an agitated life to reflect upon the blessings An Old Maid. 249 of tranquillity would say that here was happiness enough. To reckon the importance of Mademoiselle Cor- moo's salon at its true value, it will suffice to say that the born statistician of the society, du Bousquier, had estimated that the persons who frequented it controlled one hundred and thirty-one votes in the electoral col- lege, and mustered among themselves eighteen hundred thousand francs a year from landed estate in the neighborhood. The town of Alencon, however, was not entirely represented by this salon. The higher aristocracy had a salon of their own ; moreover, that of the receiver- general was like an administration inn kept by the government, where society danced, plotted, fluttered, loved, and supped. These two salons communicated by .means of certain mixed individuals with the house of Cormon, and viee-versa; but the Cormon establish- ment sat severely in judgment on the two other camps. The luxury of their dinners was criticised; the ices at their balls were pondered; the behavior of the women, the dresses, and "novelties" there produced were dis- cussed and disapproved. Mademoiselle Cormon, a species of firm, as one might say, under whose name was comprised an impos- ing coterie, was naturally the aim and object of two ambitious men as deep and wily as the Chevalier de Valois and du Bousquier. To the one as well as to the other, she meant election as deputy, resulting, for the noble, in the peerage, for the purveyor, in a receiver- generalship. A leading salon is a difficult thing to create, whether in Paris or the provinces, and here was 250 An Old Maid. one already created. To marry Mademoiselle Cormon was to reign in Alencon. Athanase Granson, the only one of the three suitors for the hand of the old maid who no longer calculated profits, now loved her person as well as her fortune. To employ the jargon of the day, is there not a sin- gular drama in the situation of these four personages? Surely there is something odd and fantastic in three rivalries silently encompassing a woman who never guessed their existence, in spite of an eager and legitimate desire to be married. And yet, though all these circumstances make the spinsterhood of this old maid an extraordinary thing, it is not difficult to explain how and why, in spite of her fortune and her three lovers, she was still unmarried. In the first place, Mademoiselle Cormon, following the custom and rule of her house, had always desired to marry a nobleman; but from 1788 to 1798 public circumstances were very unfavorable to such pretensions. Though she wanted to be a woman of condition, as the saying is, she was horribly afraid of the Revolutionary tri- bunal. The two sentiments, equal in force, kept her stationary by a law as true in ethics as it is in statics. This state of uncertain expectation is pleasing to un- married women as long as they feel themselves young, and in a position to choose a husband. France knows that the political system of Napoleon resulted in mak- ing many widows. Under that regime heiresses were entirely out of proportion in numbers to the bachelors who wanted to marry. When the Consulate restored internal order, external difficulties made the marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon as difficult to arrange as it An Old Maid. 251 had been in the past. If, on the one hand, Rose- Marie-Victoire refused to marry an old man, on the other, the fear of ridicule forbade her to marry a very young one. In the provinces, families marry their sons early to escape the conscription. In addition to all this, she was obstinately determined not to marry a soldier: she did not intend to take a man and then give him up to the Emperor; she wanted him for herself alone. With these views, she found it therefore impossible, from 1804 to 1815, to enter the lists with young girls who were rivalling each other for suitable matches. Besides her predilection for the nobility, Mademoi- selle Cormon had another and very excusable mania: that of being loved for herself. You could hardly believe the lengths to which this desire led her. She employed her mind on setting traps for her possible lovers, in order to test their real sentiments. Her nets were so well laid that the luckless suitors were all caught, and succumbed to the test she applied to them without their knowledge. Mademoiselle Cormon did not study them; she watched them. A single word said heedlessly, a joke (that she often was unable to understand), sufficed to make her reject an aspirant as unworthy: this one had neither heart nor delicac} T ; that one told lies, and was not religious; a third only wanted to coin money under the cloak of marriage; another was not of a nature to make a woman happy; here she suspected hereditary gout; there certain im- moral antecedents alarmed her. Like the Church, she required a noble priest at her altar; she even wanted to be "married for imaginary ugliness and pretended 252 An Old Maid. defects, just as other women wish to be loved for the good qualities they have not, and for imaginary beauties. Mademoiselle Cormon's ambition took its rise in the most delicate and sensitive feminine feel- ing; she longed to reward a lover by revealing to him a thousand virtues after marriage, as other women then betray the imperfections they have hitherto concealed. But she was ill understood. The noble woman met with none but common souls in whom the reckoning of actual interests was paramount, and who knew nothing of the nobler calculations of sentiment. The farther she advanced toward that fatal epoch so adroitly called the "second youth," the more her dis- trust increased. She affected to present herself in the most unfavorable light, and played her part so well that the last wooers hesitated to link their fate to that of a person whose virtuous blind-man's-buff required an amount of penetration that men who want the virtues ready-made would not bestow upon it. The constant fear of being married for her money rendered her suspicious and uneasy beyond all reason. She turned to the rich men ; but the rich are in search of great marriages; she feared the poor men, in whom she denied the disinterestedness she sought so eagerly. After each disappointment in marriage, the poor lady, led to despise mankind, began to see them all in a false light. Her character acquired, necessarily, a secret misanthropy, which threw a tinge of bitterness into her conversation, and some severity into her eyes. Celibacy gave to her manners and habits a certain increasing rigidity; for she endeavored to sanctify her- self in despair of fate. Noble vengeance! she was An Old Maid. 253 cutting for God the rough diamond rejected by man. Before long public opinion was against her; for society accepts the verdict an independent woman renders on herself by not marrying, either through losing suitors or rejecting them. Everybody supposed that these rejections were founded on secret reasons, always ill interpreted. One said she was deformed ; another suggested some hidden fault; but the poor girl was really as pure as a saint, as healthy as an infant, and full of loving kindness; Nature had intended her for all the pleasures, all the joys, and all the fatigues of motherhood. Mademoiselle Cormon did not possess in her person an obliging auxiliary to her desires. She had no other beauty than that very improperly called la beaut e du diable, which consists in a buxom freshness of youth that the devil, theologically speaking, could never have, — though perhaps the expression may be ex- plained by the constant desire that must surely possess him to cool and refresh himself. The feet of the heiress were broad and flat. Her leg, which she often exposed to sight by her manner (be it said without malice) of lifting her gown when it rained, could never have been taken for the lesf of a woman. It was sinewv, with a thick projecting calf like a sailor's. A stout waist, the plumpness of a wet-nurse, strong dimpled arms, red hands, were all in keeping with the swelling out- lines and the fat whiteness of Norman beauty. Pro- jecting eyes, undecided in color, gave to her face, the rounded outline of which had no dignity, an air of surprise and sheepish simplicity, which was suitable perhaps for an old maid. If Rose had not been, as 254 An Old Maid. she was, really innocent, she would have seemed so. An aquiline nose contrasted curiously with the narrow- ness of her forehead ; for it is rare that that form of nose does not carry with it a fine brow. In spite of her thick red lips, a sign of great kindliness, the forehead revealed too great a lack of ideas to allow of the heart being guided by intellect; she was evidently benevolent without grace. How severely we reproach Virtue for its defects, and how full of indulgence we all are for the pleasanter qualities of Vice! Chestnut hair of extraordinary length gave to Rose Cormon's face a beauty which results from vigor and abundance, — the physical qualities most apparent in her person. In the days of her chief pretensions, Rose affected to hold her head at the three-quarter angle, in order to exhibit a very pretty ear, which detached itself well from the blue-veined whiteness of her throat and temples, set off, as it was, by her wealth of hair. Seen thus in a ball-dress, she might have seemed handsome. Her protuberant outlines and her vigorous health did, in fact, draw from the officers of the Empire the approving exclamation, — "What a fine slip of a girl! " But, as years rolled on, this plumpness, encouraged by a tranquil, wholesome life, had insensibly so ill spread itself over the whole of Mademoiselle Cormon's body that her primitive proportions were destroyed. At the present moment, no corset could restore a pair of hips to the poor lady, who seemed to have been cast in a single mould. The youthful harmony of her bosom existed no longer; and its excessive amplitude made the spectator fear that if she stooped its heavy An Old Maid. 255 masses might topple her over. But nature had pro- vided against this by giving her a natural counterpoise, which rendered needless the deceitful adjunct of a bustle ; in Rose Cormon everything was genuine. Her chin, as it doubled, reduced the length of her neck, and hindered the easy carriage of her head. Rose had no wrinkles, but she had folds of flesh; and jesters declared that to save chafing she powdered her skin as they do an infant's. This ample person offered to a young man full of ardent desires like Athanase an attraction to which he had succumbed. Young imaginations, essentially eager and courageous, like to rove upon these fine living sheets of flesh. Rose was like a plump partridge attracting the knife of a gourmet. Many an elegant Parisian deep in debt would very willingly have resigned himself to make the happiness of Mademoi- selle Cormon. But, alas ! the poor girl was now forty years old. At this period, after vainly seeking to put into her life those interests which make the Woman, and finding herself forced to be still unmarried, she fortified her virtue by stern religious practices. She had recourse to religion, the great consoler of oppressed virginity. A confessor had, for the last three years, directed Mademoiselle Cormon rather stupidly in the path of maceration ; he advised the use of scourging, which, if modern medical science is to be believed, produces an effect quite the contrary to that expected by the worthy priest, whose hygienic knowledge was not extensive. These absurd practices were beginning to shed a monastic tint over the face of Rose Cormon, who now 256 An Old Maid. saw with something like despair her white skin assum- ing the yellow tones which proclaim maturity. A slight down on her upper lip, about the corners, began to spread and darken like a trail of smoke; her tem- ples grew shiny; decadence was beginning! It was authentic in Alencon that Mademoiselle Cormon suffered from rush of blood to the head. She con- fided her ills to the Chevalier de Valois, enumerating her foot-baths, and consulting him as to refrigerants. On such occasions the shrewd old gentleman would pull out his snuff-box, gaze at the Princess Goritza, and say, by way of conclusion : — "The right composing draught, my dear lad} T , is a good and kind husband." "But whom can one trust? " she replied. The chevalier would then brush away the snuff which had settled in the folds of his waistcoat or his paduasoy breeches. To the world at large this gesture would have seemed very natural ; but it always gave extreme uneasiness to the poor woman. The violence of this hope without an object was so great that Rose was afraid to look a man in the face lest he should perceive in her eyes the feelings that filled her soul. By a wilfulness, which was perhaps only the continuation of her earlier methods, though she felt herself attracted toward the men who mio'ht still suit her, she was so afraid of being accused of folly that she treated them ungraciously. Most per- sons in her society, being incapable of appreciating her motives, which were always noble, explained her man- ner toward her co-celibates as the revenge of a refusal received or expected. When the year 1815 began, An Old Maid. 257 Rose had reached that fatal age which she dared not avow. She was forty-two years old. Her desire for marriage then acquired an intensity which bordered on monomania, for she saw plainly that all chance of progeny was about to escape her; and the thing which in her celestial ignorance she desired above all things was the possession of children. Not a person in all Alencon ever attributed to this virtuous woman a single desire for amorous license. She loved, as it were, in bulk without the slightest imagination of love. Rose was a Catholic Agnes, incapable of inventing even one of the wiles of Moliere's Agnes. For some months past she had counted on chance. The disbandment of the Imperial troops and the reor- ganization of the Royal army caused a change in the destination of many officers, who returned, some on half-pay, others with or without a pension, to their native towns, — all having a desire to counteract their luckless fate, and to end their life in a way which might to Rose Connon be a happy beginning of hers. It would surely be strange if, among those who re- turned to Alencon or its neighborhood, no brave, honorable, and, above all, sound and healthy officer of suitable age could be found, whose character would be a passport among Bonaparte opinions; or some ci-devant noble who, to regain his lost position, would join the ranks of the royalists. This hope kept Made- moiselle Cormon in heart during the early months of that year. But, alas ! all the soldiers who thus returned were either too old or too young; too aggressively Bonapartist, or too dissipated; in short, their several situations were out of keeping with the rank, fortune, 17 258 An Old Maid. and morals of Mademoiselle Cormon, who now grew daily more and more desperate. The poor woman in vain prayed to God to send her a husband with whom she could be piously happy: it was doubtless written above that she should die both virgin and martyr ; no man suitable for a husband presented himself. The conversations in her salon every evening kept her in- formed of the arrival of all strangers in Alenc^on, and of the facts of their fortune, rank, and habits. But Alencon is not a town which attracts visitors ; it is not on the road to any capital; even sailors, travelling from Brest to Paris, never stop there. The poor woman ended by admitting to herself that she was reduced to the aborigines. Her eye now began to assume a cer- tain savage expression, to which the malicious cheva- lier responded by a shrewd look as he drew out his snuff-box and gazed at the Princess Goritza. Mon- sieur de Valois was well aware that in the feminine ethics of love fidelity to a first attachment is considered a pledge for the future. But Mademoiselle Cormon — we must admit it — was wanting in intellect, and did not understand the snuff-box performance. She redoubled her vigilance against "the evil spirit; " her rigid devotion and fixed principles kept her cruel sufferings hidden among the mysteries of private life. Every evening, after the company had left her, she thought of her lost youth, her faded bloom, the hopes of thwarted nature ; and, all the while immolating her passions at the feet of the Cross (like poems condemned to stay in a desk), she resolved firmly that if, by chance, any suitor pre- sented himself, to subject him to no tests, but to An Old Maid. 259 accept him at once for whatever he might be. She even went so far as to think of marrying a sub- lieutenant, a man who smoked tobacco, whom she pro- posed to render, by dint of care and kindness, one of the best men in the world, although he was hampered with debts. But it was only in the silence of the night watches that these fantastic marriages, in which she played the sublime role of guardian angel, took place. The next day, though Josette found her mistress's bed in a tossed and tumbled condition, Mademoiselle Cormon had recovered her dignity, and could only think of a man of forty, a land-owner, well preserved, and a quasi-young man. The Abbe de Sponde was incapable of giving his niece the slightest aid in her matrimonial manoeuvres. The worthy soul, now seventy years of age, attributed the disasters of the French Revolution to the design of Providence, eager to punish a dissolute Church. He had therefore flung himself into the path, long since abandoned, which anchorites once followed in order to reach heaven: he led an ascetic life without pro- claiming it, and without external credit. He hid from the world his works of charity, his continual pra} T ers, his penances ; he thought that all priests should have acted thus during the days of wrath and terror, and he preached by example. While presenting to the world a calm and smiling face, he had ended by detaching himself utterly from earthly interests ; his mind turned exclusively to sufferers, to the needs of the Church, and to his own salvation. He left the management of his property to his niece, who gave him the income of 260 An Old Maid. it, and to whom he paid a slender board in order to spend the surplus in secret alms and in gifts to the Church. All the abbe's affections were concentrated on his niece, who regarded him as a father, but an abstracted father, unable to conceive the agitations of the flesh, and thanking God for maintaining his dear daughter in a state of celibacy; for he had, from his youth up, adopted the principles of Saint John Chrysostom, who wrote that "the virgin state is as far above the mar- riage state as the angel is above humanity. " Accus- tomed to reverence her uncle, Mademoiselle Cormon dared not initiate him into the desires which filled her soul for a change of state. The worthy man, accus- tomed, on his side, to the ways of the house, would scarcely have liked the introduction of a husband. Preoccupied by the sufferings he soothed, lost in the depths of prayer, the Abbe de Sponde had periods of abstraction which the habitues of the house regarded as absent-mindedness. In any case, he talked little; but his silence was affable and benevolent. He was a man of great height and spare, with grave and solemn manners, though his face expressed all gentle senti- ments and an inward calm; while his mere presence carried with it a sacred authority. He was very fond of the Voltairean chevalier. Those two majestic relics of the nobility and clergy, though of very differ- ent habits and morals, recognized each other by their generous traits. Besides, the chevalier was as unc- tuous with the abbe as he was paternal with the grisettes. Some persons may fancy that Mademoiselle Cormon An Old Maid. 261 used every means to attain her end ; and that among the legitimate lures of womanhood she devoted herself to dress, wore low-necked gowns, and employed the negative coquetries of a magnificent display of arms. Not at all ! She was as heroic and immovable in her high-necked chemisette as a sentry in his box. Her gowns, bonnets, and chiffons were all cut and made by the dressmaker and the milliner of Alencon, two hump- backed sisters, who were not without some taste. In spite of the entreaties of those artists, Mademoiselle Corrnon refused to employ the airy deceits of elegance; she chose to be substantial in all things, flesh and feathers. But perhaps the heavy fashion of her gowns was best suited to her cast of countenance. Let those laugh who will at this poor girl ; you would have thought her sublime, O generous souls! who care but little what form true feeling takes, but admire it where it is. Here some light-minded person may exclaim against the truth of this statement; they will say that there is not in all France a girl so silly as to be ignorant of the art of angling for men; that Mademoiselle Corrnon is one of those monstrous exceptions wmich common- sense should prevent a writer from using as a type; that the most virtuous and also the silliest girl who desires to catch her fish knows w r ell how to bait the hook. But these criticisms fall before the fact that the noble catholic, apostolic, and Roman religion is still erect in Brittany and in the ancient duchy of Alencon. Faith and piety admit of no subtleties. Mademoiselle Corrnon trod the path of salvation, pre- ferring the sorrows of her virginity so cruelly pro- 262 An Old Maid. longed to the evils of trickery and the sin of a snare. In a woman armed with a scourge virtue could never compromise; consequently both love and self-interest were forced to seek her, and seek her resolutely. And here let us have the courage to make a cruel observa- tion, in da} 7 s when religion is nothing more than a useful means to some, and a poesy to others. Devo- tion causes a moral ophthalmia. By some providential grace, it takes from souls on the road to eternity the sight of many little earthly things. In a word, pious persons, devotes, are stupid on various points. This stupidity proves with what force they turn their minds to celestial matters ; although the Voltairean Chevalier de Valois declared that it was difficult to decide whether stupid people became naturally pious, or whether piety had the effect of making intelligent young women stupid. But reflect upon this carefully: the purest catholic virtue, with its loving acceptance of all cups, with its pious submission to the will of God, with its belief in the print of the divine finger on the clay of all earthly life, is the mysterious light which glides into the innermost folds of human history, setting them in relief and magnifying them in the eyes of those who still have Faith. Besides, if there be stupidity, why not concern ourselves with the sorrows of stupidity as well as with the sorrows of genius? The former is a social element infinitely more abundant than the latter. So, then, Mademoiselle Cormon was guilty in the eyes of the world of the divine ignorance of virgins. She was no observer, and her behavior with her suitors proved it. At this very moment, a young girl of six- An Old Maid. 263 teen, who had never opened a novel, would have read a hundred chapters of a love story in the eyes of Athanase Granson, where Mademoiselle Cormon saw absolutely nothing. Shy herself, she never suspected shyness in others; she did not recognize in the qua- vering tones of his speech the force of a sentiment he could not utter. Capable of inventing those refine- ments of sentimental grandeur which hindered her marriage in her early years, she yet could not recognize them in Athanase. This moral phenomenon will not seem surprising to persons who know that the qualities of the heart are as distinct from those of the mind as the faculties of genius are from nobility of soul. A perfect, all-rounded man is so rare that Socrates, one of the noblest pearls of humanity, declared (as a. phrenologist of that day) that he was born to be a scamp, and a very bad one. A great general may save his country at Zurich, and take commissions from purveyors. A great musician may conceive the sub- limest music and commit a forgery. A woman of true feeling may be a fool. In short, a devote may have a sublime soul and yet be unable to recognize the tones of a noble soul beside her. The caprices produced by physical infirmities are equally to be met with in the mental and moral regions. This good creature, who grieved at making her yearly preserves for no one but her uncle and herself, was becoming almost ridiculous. Those who felt a sympathy for her on account of her good qualities, and others on account of her defects, now made fun of her abortive marriages, More than one conversation was based on what would become of so fine a prop- 264 An Old Maid. erty, together with the old maid's savings and her uncle's inheritance. For some time past she had been suspected of being an fond, in spite of appearances, an "original." In the provinces it is not permissible to be original: being original means having ideas that are not understood by others ; the provinces demand equality of mind as well as equality of manners and customs. The marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon seemed, after 1804, a thing so problematical that the saying "mar- ried like Mademoiselle Cormon " became proverbial in Alencon as applied to ridiculous failures. Surely the sarcastic mood must be an imperative need in France, that so excellent a woman should excite the laughter of Alencon. Not only did she receive the whole society of the place at her house, not only was she charitable, pious, incapable of saying an unkind thing, but she was fully in accord with the spirit of the place and the habits and customs of its inhabi- tants, who liked her as the symbol of their lives ; she was absolutely inlaid into the ways of the provinces ; she had never quitted them; she imbibed all their prejudices; she espoused all their interests; she adored them. In spite of her income of eighteen thousand francs from landed property, a very considerable fortune in the provinces, she lived on a footing with families who were less rich. When she went to her country-place at Prebaudet, she drove there in an old wicker carriole, hung on two straps of white leather, drawn by a wheezy mare, and scarcely protected by two leather curtains rusty with age. This carriole, known An Old Maid. 265 to all the town, was cared for by Jacquelin as though it were the finest coupe in all Paris. Mademoiselle valued it; she had used it for twelve years, — a fact to which she called attention with the triumphant joy of happy avarice. Most of the inhabitants of the town were grateful to Mademoiselle Cormon for not humili- ating them by the luxury she could have displayed; we may even believe that had she imported a caleche from Paris they would have gossiped more about that than about her various matrimonial failures. The most brilliant equipage would, after all, have only taken her, like the old carriole, to Prebaudet. Now the provinces, which look solely to results, care little about the beauty or elegance of the means, provided they are efficient. 266 An Old Maid. V. AN OLD MAID'S HOUSEHOLD. To complete the picture of the internal habits and ways of this house, it is necessary to group around Mademoiselle Cormon and the Abbe de Sponde Jacque- lin, Josette, and Mariette, the cook, who employed themselves in providing for the comfort of uncle and niece. Jacquelin, a man of forty, short, fat, ruddy, and brown, with a face like a Breton sailor, had been in the service of the house for twenty-two years. He waited at table, groomed the mare, gardened, blacked the abbe's boots, went of errands, chopped the wood, drove the carriole, and fetched the oats, straw, and hay from Prebaudet. He sat in the antechamber during the evening, where he slept like a dormouse. He was in love with Josette, a girl of thirty, whom Mademoi- selle Cormon would have dismissed had she married him. So the poor fond pair laid by their wages, and loved each other silently, waiting, hoping for mademoiselle's own marriage, as the Jews are wait- ing for the Messiah. Josette, born between Alencon and Mortagne, was short and plump; her face, which looked like a dirty apricot, was not wanting in sense and character; it was said that she ruled her mistress. Josette and Jacquelin, sure of results, endeavored to An Old Maid. 267 hide an inward satisfaction which allows it to be sup- posed that, as lovers, they had discounted the future. Mariette, the cook, who had been fifteen years in the household, kuew how to make all the dishes held in most honor in Alenqon. Perhaps we ought to count for much the fat old Norman brown-bay mare, which drew Mademoiselle Cormon to her country-seat at Prebauclet; for the five inhabitants of the house bore to this animal a mania- cal affection. She was called Penelope, and had served the family for eighteen years; but she was kept so carefully and fed with such regularity that mademoi- selle and Jacquelin both hoped to use her for ten years longer. This beast was the subject of perpetual talk and occupation; it seemed as if poor Mademoiselle Cormon, having no children on whom her repressed motherly feelings could expend themselves, had turned those sentiments wholly on this most fortunate animal. The four faithful servants — for Penelope's intelli- gence raised her to the level of the other good servants ; while they, on the other hand, had lowered themselves to the mute, submissive regularity of the beast — went and came daily in the same occupations with the in- fallible accuracy of mechanism. But, as they said in their idiom, they had eaten their white bread first. Mademoiselle Cormon, like all persons nervously agi- tated by a fixed idea, became hard to please, and nagging, less by nature than from the need of employ- ing her activity. Having no husband or children to occupy her, she fell back on petty details. She talked for hours about mere nothings, on a dozen napkins marked "Z," placed in the closet before the "O's". 268 An Old Maid. "What can Josette be thinking of? " she exclaimed. "Josette is beginning to neglect things." Mademoiselle inquired for eight days running whether Penelope had had her oats at two o'clock, because on one occasion Jacquelin was a trifle late. Her narrow imagination spent itself on trifles. A layer of dust forgotten by the feather-duster, a slice of toast ill made by Mariette, Josette's delay in closing the blinds when the sun came round to fade the colors of the furniture, — all these great little things gave rise to serious quarrels in which mademoiselle grew angry. "Everything was changing," she would cry; "she did not know her own servants; the fact was she spoiled them ! " On one occasion Josette gave her the "Journee du Chretien" instead of the "Quinzaine de Paques." The whole town heard of this disaster the same evening. Mademoiselle had been forced to leave the church and return home; and her sudden departure, upsetting the chairs, made people suppose a catastrophe had happened. She was therefore obliged to explain the facts to her friends. "Josette," she said gently, "such a thing must never happen again." Mademoiselle Cormon was, without being aware of it, made happier by such little quarrels, which served as cathartics to relieve her bitterness. The soul has its needs, and, like the body, its gymnastics. These uncertainties of temper were accepted by Josette and Jacquelin as changes in the weather are accepted by husbandmen. Those worthy souls remark, "It is fine to-day," or "It rains," without arraigning the heavens. And so when they met in the morning the servants An Old Maid. 269 would wonder in what humor mademoiselle would get up, just as a farmer wonders about the mists at dawn. Mademoiselle Cormon had ended, as it was natural she should end, in contemplating herself only in the infinite pettinesses of her life. Herself and God, her confessor and the weekly wash, her preserves and the church services, and her uncle to care for, absorbed her feeble intellect. To her the atoms of life were magnified by an optic peculiar to persons who are selfish by nature or self-absorbed by some accident. Her perfect health gave alarming meaning to the least little derangement of her digestive organs. She lived under the iron rod of the medical science of our fore- fathers, and took yearly four precautionary doses, strong enough to have killed Penelope, though they seemed to rejuvenate her mistress. If Josette, when dressing her, chanced to discover a little pimple on the still satiny shoulders of mademoiselle, it became the subject of endless inquiries as to the various alimentary articles of the preceding week. And what a triumph when Josette reminded her mistress of a certain hare that was rather "high," and had doubtless raised that accursed pimple! With what joy they said to each other: "No doubt, no doubt, it was the hare! " "Mariette over-seasoned it," said mademoiselle. "I am always telling her to do so lightly for my uncle and for me; but Mariette has no more memory than — " "The hare," said Josette. "Just so," replied mademoiselle; "she has no more memory than a hare, — a very just remark." Four times a year, at the beginning of each season, 270 An Old Maid. Mademoiselle Cormon went to pass a certain number of days on her estate of Prebaudet. It was now the middle of May, the period at which she wished to see how her apple-trees had "snowed," — a saying of that region which expressed the effect produced beneath the trees by the falling of their blossoms. When the circular deposit of these fallen petals resem- bled a layer of snow the owner of the trees might hope for an abundant supply of cider. While she thus gauged her vats, Mademoiselle Cormon also attended to the repairs which the winter necessitated; she ordered the digging of her flower-beds and her vege- table garden, from which she supplied her table. Every season had its own business. Mademoiselle always gave a dinner of farewell to her intimate friends the day before her departure, although she was certain to see them again within three weeks. It was always a piece of news which echoed through Alenqon when Mademoiselle Cormon departed. All her visitors, especially those who had missed a visit, came to bid her good-bye; the salon was thronged, and every one said farewell as though she were starting for Calcutta. The next day the shopkeepers would stand at their doors to see the old carriole pass, and they seemed to be telling one another some news by repeating from shop to shop : — "So Mademoiselle Cormon is £oin£ to Prebaudet! " Some said: "Her bread is baked." "Hey! my lad," replied the next man. "She's a worthy woman; if money always came into such hands we should n't see a beggar in the country." Another said: "Dear me, I should n't be surprised An Old Maid. 271 if the vineyards were in bloom; here 's Mademoiselle Cormon going to Prebaudet. How happens it she does n't marry? " "I'd marry her myself," said a wag; "in fact, the marriage is half-made, for here 's one consenting party; but the other side won't. Pooh! the oven is heating for Monsieur du Bousquier." "Monsieur du Bousquier! Why, she has refused him." That evening at all the gatherings it was told gravely : — "Mademoiselle Cormon has gone." Or: — "So you have really let Mademoiselle Cormon go." The Wednesday chosen by Suzanne to make known her scandal happened to be this farewell Wednesday, — a day on which Mademoiselle Cormon drove Josette distracted on the subject of packing. During the morning, therefore, things had been said and done in the town which lent the utmost interest to this fare- well meeting. Madame Granson had gone the round of a dozen houses while the old maid was deliberat- ing on the things she needed for the journey ; and the malicious Chevalier de Valois was playing piquet with Mademoiselle Armande, sister of a distinguished old marquis, and the queen of the salon of the aristo- crats. If it was not uninteresting to any one to see what figure the seducer would cut that evening, it was all important for the chevalier and Madame Granson to know how Mademoiselle Cormon would take the news in her double capacity of marriageable woman and president of the Maternity Society. As for 272 An Old Maid. ' the innocent du Bousquier, he was taking a walk on the Promenade, and beginning to suspect that Suzanne had tricked him ; this suspicion confirmed him in his prin- ciples as to women. On gala days the table was laid at Mademoiselle Cormon's about half-past three o'clock. At that period the fashionable people of Alencon dined at four. Under the Empire they still dined as in former times at half-past two; but then they supped! One of the pleasures which Mademoiselle Cormon valued most was (without meaning any malice, although the fact cer- tainly rests on egotism) the unspeakable satisfaction she derived from seeing herself dressed as mistress of the house to receive her guests. When she was thus under arms a ray of hope would glide into the darkness of her heart; a voice told her that nature had not so abundantly provided for her in vain, and that some man, brave and enterprising, would surely pre- sent himself. Her desire was refreshed like her person; she contemplated herself in her heavy stuffs with a sort of intoxication, and this satisfaction con- tinued when she descended the stairs to cast her re- doubtable eye on the salon, the dinner-table, and the boudoir. She would then walk about with the naive contentment of the rich, — who remember at all moments that they are rich and will never want for anything. She looked at her eternal furniture, her curi- osities, her lacquers, and said to herself that all these fine things wanted was a master. After admiring the dining-room, and the oblong dinner-table, on which was spread a snow-white cloth adorned with twenty covers placed at equal distances; after verifying the An Old Maid. 273 squadron of bottles she had ordered to be brought up, and which all bore honorable labels; after carefully verifying the names written on little bits of paper in the trembling handwriting of the abbe (the only duty he assumed in the household, and one which gave rise to grave discussions on the place of each guest), — after going through all these preliminary acts mademoiselle went, in her fine clothes, to her uncle, who was accus- tomed at this, the best hour in the day, to take his walk on the terrace which overlooked the Brillante, where he could listen to the warble of the birds which were nesting in the coppice, unafraid of either sports- men or children. At such times of waiting she never joined the Abbe de Sponde without asking him some ridiculous question, in order to draw the old man into a discussion which might serve to amuse him. And her reason was this, — which will serve to complete our picture of this excellent woman's nature: — Mademoiselle Corinon regarded it as one of her duties to talk ; not that she was talkative, for she had unfortunately too few ideas, and did not know enough phrases to converse readily. But she believed she was accomplishing one of the social duties enjoined by religion, which orders us to make ourselves agreeable to our neighbor. This obligation cost her so much that she consulted her director, the Abbe Couturier, upon the subject of this honest but puerile civility. In spite of the humble remark of his penitent, confess- ing the inward labor of her mind in finding anything to say, the old priest, rigid on the point of discipline, read her a passage from Saint-Francois de Sales on the duties of women in society, which dwelt on the 18 274 An Old Maid. decent gayety of pious Christian women, who were bound to reserve their sternness for themselves, and to be amiable and pleasing in their homes, and see that their neighbors enjoyed themselves. Thus, filled with a sense of duty, and wishing, at all costs, to obey her director, who bade her converse with amenity, the poor soul perspired in her corset when the talk around her languished, so much did she suffer from the effort of emitting ideas in order to revive it. Under such circumstances she would put forth the silliest state- ments, such as : " No one can be in two places at once — unless it is a little bird," by which she one day roused, and not without success, a discussion on the ubiquity of the apostles, which she was unable to comprehend. Such efforts at conversation won her the appellation of "that good Mademoiselle Cormon," which, from the lips of -the beaux esprits of society, meant that she was as ignorant as a carp, and rather a poor fool ; but many persons of her own calibre took the remark in its literal sense, and answered: — "Yes; oh, yes! Mademoiselle Cormon is an excel- lent woman." Sometimes she would put such absurd questions (always for the purpose of fulfilling her duties to society, and making herself agreeable to her guests) that everybody burst out laughing. She asked, for instance, what the government did with the taxes they were always receiving; and why the Bible had not been printed in the days of Jesus Christ, inasmuch as it was written by Moses. Her mental powers were those of the English "country gentleman" who, hearing con- stant mention of "posterity' in the House of Com- An Old Maid. 275 mons, rose to make the speech that has since become celebrated: "Gentlemen," he said, "I hear much talk in this place about Posterity. I should be glad to know what that power has ever done for England." Under these circumstances the heroic Chevalier de Valois would bring to the succor of the old maid all the powers of his clever diplomacy, whenever he saw the pitiless smile of the wiser heads. The old gentle- man, who loved to assist women, turned Mademoiselle Conxion's sayings into wit by sustaining them para- doxically, and he often covered the retreat so well that it seemed as if the good woman had said nothing silly. She asserted very seriously one evening that she did not see any difference between an ox and a bull. The dear chevalier instantly arrested the peals of laughter by asserting that there was only the difference between a sheep and a lamb. But the Chevalier de Valois served an ungrateful dame, for never did Mademoiselle Cormon compre- hend his chivalrous services. Observing; that the con- versation grew lively, she simply thought that she was not so stupid as she felt she was, — the result being that she settled down into her ignorance with some complacency; she lost her timidity, and acquired a self-possession which gave to her "speeches" some- thing of the solemnity with which the British enunciate their patriotic absurdities, — the self-conceit of stu- pidity, as it may be called. As she approached her uncle, on this occasion, with a majestic step, she was ruminating over a question that might draw him from a silence which always troubled her, for she feared he was dull. 276 An Old Maid. "Uncle," she said, leaning on his arm and clinging to his side (this was one of her fictions; for she said to herself, "If I had a husband I should do just so"), — "uncle, if everything here below happens accord- ing to the will of God, there must be a reason for everything." "Certainly," replied the abbe, gravely. The worthy man, who cherished his niece, always allowed her to tear him from his meditations with angelic patience. " Then if I remain unmarried, — supposing that I do, — God wills it?" "Yes, my child," replied the abbe. "And yet, as nothing prevents me from marrying to-morrow if I choose, His will can be destroyed by mine r "That would be true if we knew what was really the will of God," replied the former prior of the Sorbonne. "Observe, my daughter, that you put in an if." The poor woman, who expected to draw her uncle into a matrimonial discussion by an argument ad omnipotentem, was stupefied; but persons of obtuse mind have the terrible logic of children, which consists in turning from answer to question, — a logic that is frequently embarrassing. "But, uncle, God did not make women intending them not to marry; otherwise they ought all to stay unmarried; if not, they ought all to marry. There's great injustice in the distribution of parts." "Daughter," said the worthy abbe, "you are blam- ing the Church, which declares celibacy to be the better way to God." "But if the Church is right, and all the world were An Old Maid. 277 good Catholics, would n't the human race come to an end, uncle? " "You* have too much mind, Rose; you don't need so much to be happy." That remark brought a smile of satisfaction to the lips of the poor woman, and confirmed her in the good opinion she was beginning to acquire about herself. That is how the world, our friends, and our enemies are the accomplices of our defects! At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the successive arrival of the guests. On these cere- monial days, friendly familiarities were exchanged between the servants of the house and the company. Mariette remarked to the chief -justice as he passed the kitchen : — "Ah, Monsieur du Ronceret, I've cooked the cauli- flowers au gratin expressly for you, for mademoiselle knows how you like them; and she said to me: i Now don't forget them, Mariette, for Monsieur du Ronceret is coming. "That good Mademoiselle Cormon! ' ejaculated the chief legal authority of the town. "Mariette, did you steep them in gravy instead of soup-stock? it is much richer." The chief-justice was not above entering the cham- ber of council where Mariette held court; he cast the eye of a gastronome around it, and offered the advice of a past master in cookery. kW Good-day, madame," said Josette to Madame Granson, who courted the maid. "Mademoiselle has thought of you, and there 's fish for dinner." As for the Chevalier de Valois, he remarked to 278 An Old Maid. Mariette, in the easy tone of a great seigneur who con- descends to be familiar: — "■Well, my dear cordon-bleu, to whom J should give the cross of the Legion of honor, is there some little dainty for which I had better reserve myself?" "Yes, yes, Monsieur de Valois, — a hare sent from Prebaudet; weighs fourteen pounds." Du Bousquier was not invited. Mademoiselle Cor- mon, faithful to the system which we know of, treated that fifty-year-old suitor extremely ill, although she felt inexplicable sentiments toward him in the depths of her heart. She had refused him ; yet at times she repented; and a presentiment that she should yet marry him, together with a terror at the idea which prevented her from wishing for the marriage, assailed her. Her mind, stimulated by these feelings, was much occupied by du Bousquier. Without being aware of it, she was influenced by the herculean form of the republican. Madame Granson and the Chevalier de Valois, although they could not explain to themselves Mademoiselle Cor- mon's inconsistencies, had detected her naive glances in that direction, the meaning of which seemed clear enough to make them both resolve to ruin the hopes of the already rejected purveyor, — hopes which it was evident he still indulged. Two guests, whose functions excused them, kept the dinner waiting. One was Monsieur du Coudrai, the recorder of mortgages; the other Monsieur Choisnel, former bailiff to the house of Esgrignon, and now the notary of the upper aristocracy, by whom he w r as re- ceived with a distinction due to his virtues; he was also a man of considerable wealth. When the two An Old Maid. 279 belated guests arrived, Jacquelin said to them as he saw them about to enter the salon : — "They are all in the garden." No doubt the assembled stomachs were impatient; for on the appearance of the recorder of mortgages — who had no defect except that of having married for her money an intolerable old woman, and of perpetrat- ing endless puns, at which he was the first to laugh — the gentle murmur by which such late-comers are wel- comed arose. "While awaiting the official announce- ment of dinner, the company were sauntering on the terrace above the river, and gazing at the water- plants, the mosaic of the currents, and the various pretty details of the houses clustering across the river, their old wooden galleries, their mouldering window- frames, their little gardens where clothes were drying, the cabinet-maker's shop, — in short, the many details of a small community to which the vicinity of a river, a weeping willow, flowers, rose-bushes, added a cer- tain grace, making the scene quite worthy of a land- scape painter. The chevalier studied all faces, for he knew that his firebrand had been very successfully introduced into the chief houses of the place. But no one as vet referred openly to the great news of Suzanne and du Bousquier. Provincials possess in the highest degree the art of distilling gossip; the right moment for openly discussing this strange affair had not arrived ; it was first necessary that all present should put them- selves on record. So the whispers went round from ear to ear : — "You have heard?" 280 An Old Maid. "Yes." "Du Bousqnier? " "And that handsome Suzanne." "Does Mademoiselle Cormon know of it?" "No." "Ha!" This was the piano of the scandal; the rinforzando would break forth as soon as the first course had been removed. Suddenly Monsieur de Valois's eyes lighted on Madame Granson, arrayed in her green hat with bunches of auriculas, and beaming with evident joy. Was it merely the joy of opening the concert? Though such a piece of news was like a gold mine to work in the monotonous lives of these personages, the observ- ant and distrustful chevalier thought he recognized in the worthy woman a far more extended sentiment; namely, the joy caused by the triumph of self-interest. Instantly he turned to examine Athanase, and detected him in the significant silence of deep meditation. Presently, a look cast by the young man on Made- moiselle Cormon carried to the soul of the chevalier a sudden gleam. That momentary flash of lightning enabled him to read the past. "Ha! the devil! " he said to himself; "what a check- mate I 'm exposed to! " Monsieur de Valois now approached Mademoiselle Cormon, and offered his arm. The old maid's feeling to the chevalier was that of respectful consideration; and certainly his name, together with the position he occupied among the aristocratic constellations of the department, made him the most brilliant ornament of her salon. In her inmost mind Mademoiselle Cormon An Old Maid. 281 had wished for the last dozen years to become Madame de Valois. That Dame was like the branch of a tree, to which the ideas which swarmed in her mind about rank, nobility, and the external qualities of a husband had fastened. But, though the Chevalier de Valois was the man chosen by her heart, and mind, and ambition, that elderly ruin, combed and curled like a little Saint-John in a procession, alarmed Mademoi- selle Cormon. She saw the gentleman in him, but she could not see a husband. The indifference which the chevalier affected as to marriage, above all, the appar- ent purity of his morals in a house which abounded in grisettes, did singular harm in her mind to Monsieur de Valois against his expectations. The worthy man, who showed such judgment in the matter of his annuity, was at fault here. Without being herself aware of it, the thoughts of Mademoiselle Cormon on the too virtuous chevalier might be translated thus : — "What a pity that he is n't a trifle dissipated! " Observers of the human heart have remarked the leaning of pious women toward scamps ; some have ex- pressed surprise at this taste, considering it opposed to Christian virtue. But, in the first place, what nobler destiny can you offer to a virtuous woman than to purify, like charcoal, the muddy waters of vice ? How is it some observers fail to see that these noble crea- tures, obliged by the sternness of their own principles never to infringe on conjugal fidelity, must naturally desire a husband of wider practical experience than their own? The scamps of social life are great men in love. Thus the poor woman groaned in spirit at find- ing her chosen vessel parted into two pieces. God 282 An Old Maid. alone could solder together a Chevalier de Valois and a du Bousquier. In order to explain the importance of the few words which the chevalier and Mademoiselle Cormon are about to say to each other, it is necessary to reveal two serious matters which agitated the town, and about which opinions were divided; besides, du Bousquier was mysteriously connected with them. One concerns the rector of Alencon, who had for- merly taken the constitutional oath, and who was now conquering the repugnance of the Catholics by a dis- play of the highest virtues. He was Cheverus on a small scale, and became in time so fully appreciated that when he died the whole town mourned him. Mademoiselle Cormon and the Abbe de Sponde be- longed to that "little Church," sublime in its ortho- doxy, which was to the court of Rome what the Ultras were to be to Louis XVIII. The abbe, more espe- cially, refused to recognize a Church which had com- promised with the constitutionals. The rector was therefore not received in the Cormon household, whose sympathies were all given to the curate of Saint- Leonard, the aristocratic parish of Alenqon. Du Bousquier, that fanatic liberal now concealed under the skin of a royalist, knowing how necessary rallying points are to all discontents (which are really at the bottom of all oppositions), had drawn the sympathies of the middle classes around the rector. So much for the first case ; the second was this : — Under the secret inspiration of du Bousquier the idea of building a theatre had dawned on Alencon. The henchmen of the purveyor did not know their An Old Maid. 283 Mohammed; and they thought they were ardent in carrying out their own conception. Athanase Granson was one of the warmest partisans for the theatre ; and of late he had urged at the mayor's office a cause which all the other young clerks had eagerly adopted. The chevalier, as we have said, offered his arm to the old maid for a turn on the terrace. She accepted it, not without thanking him by a happy look for this attention, to which the chevalier replied by motioning toward Athanase with a meaning eye. " Mademoiselle," he began, "you have so much sense and judgment in social proprieties, and also, you are connected with that young man by certain ties — " "Distant ones," she said, interrupting him. "Ought you not," he continued, "to use the influence you have over his mother and over himself by saving him from perdition? He is not very religious, as you know; indeed he approves of the rector; but that is not all; there is something far more serious; isn't he throwing himself headlong into an opposition with- out considering what influence his present conduct may exert upon his future? He is working for the construction of a theatre. In this affair he is simply the dupe of that disguised republican du Bousquier — " "Good gracious! Monsieur cle Valois," she replied; "his mother is always telling me he has so much mind, and yet he can't say two words; he stands planted before me as mum as a post — " "Which does n't think at all! " cried the recorder of mortgages. "I caught your words on the fly. I pre- sent my compliments to Monsieur de Valois," he added, bowing to that gentleman with much emphasis. 284 An Old Maid. The chevalier returned the salutation stiffly, and drew Mademoiselle Cormon toward some flower-pots at a little distance, in order to show the interrupter that he did not choose to be spied upon. "How is it possible," he continued, lowering his voice, and leaning toward Mademoiselle Cormon' s ear, "that a young man brought up in those detestable lyceums should have ideas? Only sound morals and noble habits will ever produce great ideas and a true love. It is easy to see by a mere look at him that the poor lad is liable to be imbecile, and come, perhaps, to some sad end. See how pale and haggard he is ! " "His mother declares he works too hard," replied the old maid, innocently. "He sits up late, and for what? reading books and writing! What business ought to require a young man to write at night? " "It exhausts him," replied the chevalier, trying to bring the old maid's thoughts back to the ground where he hoped to inspire her with horror for her youthful lover. "The morals of those Imperial ly- ceums are really shocking." "Oh, yes!" said the ingenuous creature. "They march the pupils about with drums at their head. The masters have no more religion than pagans. And they put the poor lads in uniform, as if they were troops. What ideas ! " "And behold the product! " said the chevalier, motioning to Athanase. "In my day, young men were not so shy of looking at a pretty woman. As for him, he drops his eyes whenever he sees you. That young man frightens me because I am really interested in him. Tell him not to intrigue with the An Old Maid. 285 Bonapartists, as he is now doing about that theatre. When all these petty folks cease to ask for it insarrec- tionally, — which to my mind is the synonym of constitutionally, — the government will build it. Be- sides which, tell his mother to keep an eye on him." "Oh, I 'm sure she will prevent him from seeing those half-pay, questionable people. I '11 talk to her," said Mademoiselle Cormon, "for he might lose his place in the mayor's office; and then what would he and his mother have to live on? It makes me shudder." As Monsieur de Talleyrand said of his wife, so the chevalier said to himself, looking at Mademoiselle Cormon : — "Find me another as stupid! Good powers! isn't virtue which drives out intellect vice? But what an adorable wife for a man of my age! What princi- ples ! what ignorance ! " Remember that this monologue, addressed to the Princess Goritza, was mentally uttered while he took a pinch of snuff. Madame Granson had divined that the chevalier was talking about Athanase. Eager to know the result of the conversation, she followed Mademoiselle Cormon, who was now approaching the young man with much dignity. . But at this moment Jacquelin appeared to announce that mademoiselle was served. The old maid gave a glance of appeal to the chevalier; but the gallant recorder of mortgages, who was beginning to see in the manners of that gentleman the barrier which the provincial nobles were setting up about this time between themselves and the bourgeoisie, made the 286 An Old Maid. most of his chance to cut out Monsieur de Valois. He was close to Mademoiselle Cormon, and promptly offered his arm, which she found herself compelled to accept. The chevalier then darted, out of policy, upon Madame Granson. "Mademoiselle Cormon, my dear lacty," he said to her, walking slowly after all the other guests, "feels the liveliest interest in your dear Athanase ; but I fear it will vanish through his own fault. He is irreligious and liberal; he is agitating this matter of the theatre; he frequents the Bonapartists ; he takes the side of that rector. Such conduct may make him lose his place in the mayor's office. You know with what care the government is beginning to weed out such opinions. If your dear Athanase loses his^ place, where can he find other employment? I advise him not to get him- self in bad odor with the administration." "Monsieur le Chevalier," said the poor frightened mother, "how grateful I am to you! You are right: my son is the tool of a bad set of people; I shall enlighten him." The chevalier had long since fathomed the nature of Athanase, and recognized in it that unyielding element of republican convictions to which in his youth a young man is willing to sacrifice everything, carried away by the word "liberty," so ill-defined and so little understood, but which to persons disdained by fate is a banner of revolt ; and to such, revolt is vengeance. Athanase would certainly persist in that faith, for his opinions were woven in with his artistic sorrows, with his bitter contemplation of the social state. He was ignorant of the fact that at thirty-six years of age, — An Old Maid. 287 the period of life when a man has judged men and social interests and relations, — the opinions for which he was ready to sacrifice his future would be modified in him, as they are in all men of real superiority. To remain faithful to the Left side of Alencon was to gain the aversion of Mademoiselle Cormon. There, indeed, the chevalier saw true. Thus we see that this society, so peaceful in appear- ance, was internally as agitated as any diplomatic circle, where craft, ability, and passions group them- selves around the grave questions of an empire. The guests were now seated at the table laden with the first course, which they ate as provincials eat, without shame at possessing a good appetite, and not as in Paris, where it seems as if jaws gnashed under sump- tuary laws, which made it their business to contra- dict the laws of anatomy. In Paris people eat with their teeth, and trifle with their pleasure; in the prov- inces things are clone naturally, and interest is perhaps rather too much concentrated on the grand and univer- sal means of existence to which God has condemned his creatures. It was at the end of the first course that Mademoi- selle Cormon made the most celebrated of her "speeches;" it was talked about for fully two years, and is still told at the gatherings of the lesser bour- geoisie whenever the topic of her marriage comes up. The conversation, becoming lively as the penulti- mate entree was reached, had turned naturally on the affair of the theatre and the constitutionally sworn rector. In the first fervor of royalty, during the year 1816, those who later were called Jesuits were all for 288 An Old Maid. the expulsion of the Abbe Francois from his parish. Du Bousquier, suspected by Monsieur cle Valois of sustaining the priest and being at the bottom of the theatre intrigues, and on whose back the adroit cheva- lier would in any case have put those sins with his customary cleverness, was in the dock with no lawyer to defend him. Athanase, the only guest loyal enough to stand by du Bousquier, had not the nerve to emit his ideas in presence of these potentates of Alen^on, whom in his heart he thought stupid. None but pro- vincial youths now retain a respectful demeanor before men of a certain age, and dare neither to censure nor contradict them. The talk, diminished under the effect of certain delicious ducks dressed with olives, was fall- ing flat. Mademoiselle Cormon, feeling the necessity of maintaining it against her own ducks, attempted to de- fend du Bousquier, who was being represented as a per- nicious fomenter of intrigues, capable of any trickery. "As for me," she said, "I thought that Monsieur du Bousquier cared chiefly for childish things." Under existing; circumstances the remark had enor- mous success. Mademoiselle Cormon obtained a great triumph; she brought the nose of the Princess Goritza flat on the table. The chevalier, who little expected such an apt remark from his Dulcinea, was so amazed that he could at first find no words to express his admiration; he applauded noiselessly, as they do at the Opera, tapping his fingers together to imitate applause. "She is adorably witty," he said to Madame Gran- son. "I always said that some day she would unmask her batteries." An Old Maid. 289 "In private sbe is always charming," replied the widow. "In private, madarne, all women have wit," returned the chevalier. The Homeric laugh thus raised having subsided, Mademoiselle Cormon asked the reason of her success. Then began the forte of the gossip. Du Bousquier was depicted as a species of celibate Pere Gigogne, a monster, who for the last fifteen years had kept the Foundling Hospital supplied. His immoral habits were at last revealed! these Parisian saturnalias were the result of them, etc., etc. Conducted by the Cheva- lier de Valois, a most able leader of an orchestra of this kind, the opening of the cancan was magnificent. "I really don't know," he said, "what should hin- der a du Bousquier from marrying a Mademoiselle Suzanne What 's-her-narne. What is her name, do you know? Suzette! Though I have lodgings at Madame Lardot's, I know her girls only by sight. If this Suzette is a tall, fine, saucy girl, with gray eyes, a slim waist, and a pretty foot, whom I have occasionally seen, and whose behavior always seemed to me ex- tremely insolent, she is far superior in manners to du Bousquier. Besides, the girl has the nobility of beauty ; from that point of view the marriage would be a poor one for her; she might do better. You know how the Emperor Joseph had the curiosity to see the du Barry at Luciennes. He offered her his arm to walk about, and the poor thing was so surprised at the honor that she hesitated to accept it: ' Beauty is ever a queen, ' said the Emperor. And he, you know, was an Austrian-German," added the chevalier. "But 19 290 An Old Maid. I can tell you that Germany, which is thought here very rustic, is a land of noble chivalry and fine man- ners, especially in Poland and Huugary, where — " Here the chevalier stopped, fearing to slip into some allusion to his personal happiness; he took out his snuff-box, and confided the rest of his remarks to the princess, who had smiled upon him for thirty-six years and more. "That speech was rather a delicate one for Louis XV.," said du Ronceret. "But it was, I think, the Emperor Joseph who made it, and not Louis XV.," remarked Mademoiselle Cor- mon, in a correcting tone. "Mademoiselle," said the chevalier, observing the malicious glance exchanged between the judge, the notary, and the recorder, "Madame du Barry was the Suzanne of Louis XV., — a circumstance well known to scamps like ourselves, but unsuitable for the knowledge of young ladies. Your ignorance proves you to be a flawless diamond; historical corruptions do not enter your mind." The Abbe de Sponde looked graciously at the Chev- alier de Valois, and nodded his head in sign of his laudatory approbation. "Doesn't mademoiselle know history ? " asked the recorder of mortgages. "If you mix up Louis XV. and this girl Suzanne, how am I to know history?" replied Mademoiselle Cormon, angelically, glad to see that the dish of ducks was empty at last, and the conversation so ready to revive that all present laughed with their mouths full at her last remark. An Old Maid. 291 "Poor girl!" said the Abbe cle Sponcle. "Whea a great misfortune happens, charity, which is divine love, and as blind as pagan love, ought not to look into the causes of it. Niece, you are president of the Maternity Society; you must succor that poor girl, who will now find it difficult to marry." "Poor child! " ejaculated Mademoiselle Cormon. "Do you suppose du Bousquier would marry her?" asked the judge. "If he is an honorable man he ought to do so," said Madame Granson; "but really, to tell the truth, my dos; has better morals than he — " "Azor is, however, a good purveyor," said the re- corder of mortgages, with the air of saying a witty thing. At dessert du Bousquier was still the topic of con- versation, having given rise to various little jokes which the wine rendered sparkling. Following the example of the recorder, each guest capped his neigh- bor's joke with another: Du Bousquier was a father, but not a confessor ; he was father less ; he was father ly; he was not a reverend father; nor yet a conscript- father — "Nor can he be a foster-father," said the Abbe de Sponde, with a gravity which stopped the laughter. "Nor a noble father," added the chevalier. The Church and the nobility descended thus into the arena of puns, without, however, losing their dignity. "Hush! " exclaimed the recorder of mort^a^es. "I hear the creaking of du Bousquier' s boots." It usually happens that a man is ignorant of rumors that are afloat about him. A whole town may be talk- 292 An Old Maid. ing of his affairs; may calumniate and decry him, but if he has no good friends, he will know nothing about it. Now the innocent du Bousquier was superb in his ignorance. No one had told him as yet of Suzanne's revelations; he therefore appeared very jaunty and slightly conceited when the company, leaving the dining-room, returned to the salon for their coffee; several other guests had meantime assembled for the evening. Mademoiselle Cormon, from a sense of shamefacedness, dared not look at the terrible seducer. She seized upon Athanase, and began to lecture him with the queerest platitudes about royalist politics and religious morality. Not possessing, like the Cheva- lier de Valois, a snuff-box adorned with a princess, by the help of which he could stand this torrent of silliness, the poor poet listened to the words of her whom he loved with a stupid air, gazing, meanwhile, at her enormous bust, which held itself before him in that still repose which is the attribute of all great masses. His love produced in him a sort of intoxica- tion which changed the shrill little voice of the old maid into a soft murmur, and her flat remarks into witty speeches. Love is a maker of false coin, con- tinually changing copper pennies into gold-pieces, and sometimes turning its real gold into copper. "Well, Athanase, will you promise me?' : This final sentence struck the ear of the absorbed young man like one of those noises which wake us with a bound. "What, mademoiselle?" he asked. Mademoiselle Cormon rose hastily, and looked at du Bousquier, who at that moment resembled the stout An Old Maid. 293 god of Fable which the Republic stamped upon her coins. She walked up to Madame Granson, and said in her ear : — "My dear friend, your son is an idiot. That lyceum has ruined him," she added, remembering the insist- ence with which the chevalier had spoken of the evils of education in such schools. What a catastrophe! Unknown to himself, the luckless Athanase had had an occasion to fling an ember of his own fire upon the pile of brush gathered in the heart of the old maid. Had he listened to her, he might have made her, then and there, perceive his passion; for, in the agitated state of Mademoiselle Cormon's mind, a single word would have sufficed. But that stupid absorption in his own sentiments, which characterizes young and true love, had ruined him, as a child full of life sometimes kills itself out of ignorance. "What have you been saying to Mademoiselle Cor- mon ? " demanded his mother. "Nothing." "Nothing; well, I can explain that," she thought to herself, putting off till the next day all further re- flection on the matter, and attaching but little impor- tance to Mademoiselle Cormon's words; for she fully believed that du Bousquier was forever lost in the old maid's esteem after the revelation of that evening. Soon the four tables were filled with their sixteen players. Four persons were playing piquet, — an expen- sive game, at which the most money was lost. Mon- sieur Choisnel, the procureur-du-roi, and two ladies went into the boudoir for a game at backgammon. u If 294 An Old Maid. The glass lustres were lighted ; and then the flower of Mademoiselle Cormon's company gathered before the fireplace, on sofas, and around the tables, and each couple said to her as they arrived, — So you are going to-morrow to Prebaudet?" 'Yes, I really must," she replied. On this occasion the mistress of the house appeared preoccupied. Madame Granson was the first to per- ceive the quite unnatural state of the old maid's mind, — Mademoiselle Cormon was thinking! "What are you thinking of, cousin?" she said at last, finding her seated in the boudoir. "I am thinking," she replied, "of that poor girl. As the president of the Maternity Society, I will give you fifty francs for her." "Fifty francs! " cried Madame Granson. "But you have never given as much as that." "But, my dear cousin, it is so natural to have children." That immoral speech coming from the heart of the old maid staggered the treasurer of the Maternity, Society. Du Bousquier had evidently advanced in the estimation of Mademoiselle Cormon. "Upon my word," said Madame Granson, "du Bousquier is not only a monster, he is a villain. When a man has done a wrong like that, he ought to pay the indemnity. Is n't it his place rather than ours to look after the girl ? — who, to tell you the truth, seems to me rather questionable; there are plenty of better men in Alengon than that cynic du Bousquier. A girl must be depraved, indeed, to go after him." "Cynic! Your son teaches you to talk Latin, my An Old Maid. 295 clear, which is wholly incomprehensible. Certainly I don't wish to excuse Monsieur du Bousquier ; but pray explain to me why a woman is depraved because she prefers one man to another." "My dear cousin, suppose you married my son Athanase ; nothing could be more natural. He is young and handsome, full of promise, and he will be the glory of Alencon; and yet everybody will exclaim against you: evil tongues will say all sorts of things; jealous women will accuse you of depravity, — but what will that matter? you will be loved, and loved truly. If Athanase seemed to you an idiot, my dear, it is that he has too many ideas; extremes meet. He lives the life of a girl of fifteen ; he has never wal- lowed in the impurities of Paris, not he! Well, change the terms, as my poor husband used to say ; it is the same thing with du Bousquier in connection with Suzanne. You would be calumniated ; but in the case of du Bousquier, the charge would be true. Don't you understand me? " "No more than if you were talking Greek," replied Mademoiselle Cormon, who opened her eyes wide, and strained all the forces of her intellect. "Well, cousin, if I must dot all the ?'s, it is impos- sible for Suzanne to love du Bousquier. And if the heart counts for nothing in this affair — " "But, cousin, what do people love with if not their hearts ? " Here Madame Granson said to herself, as the chev- alier had previously thought: "My poor cousin is altogether too innocent; such stupidity passes all bounds! — Dear child," she continued aloud, "it 296 An Old Maid. seems to me that children are not conceived by the spirit only." "Why, yes, my dear; the Holy Virgin herself — " "But, my love, du Bousquier is n't the Holy Ghost! " "True," said the old maid; "he is a man! — a man whose personal appearance makes him dangerous enough for his friends to advise him to marry." "You could yourself bring about that result, cousin." "How so? " said the old maid, with the meekness of Christian charity. "By not receiving him in your house until he mar- ries. You owe it to good morals and to religion to manifest under such circumstances an exemplary displeasure." "On my return from Prebaudet we will talk further of this, my dear Madame Granson. I will consult my uncle and the Abba Couturier," said Mademoiselle Cormon, returning to the salon, where the animation was now at its height. The lights, the groups of women in their best clothes, the solemn tone, the dignified air of the assembly, made Mademoiselle Cormon not a little proud of her company. To many persons nothing better could be seen in Paris in the highest society. At this moment du Bousquier, who was playing whist with the chevalier and two old ladies, — Madame du Couclrai and Madame du Ronceret, — was the object of deep but silent curiosity. A few young women arrived, who, under pretext of watching the game, gazed fixedly at him in so singular a manner, though slyly, that the old bachelor began to think that there must be some deficiency in his toilet. An Old Maid. 297 "Can my false front be crooked? " he asked himself, seized by one of those anxieties which beset old bachelors. He took advantage of a lost trick, which ended a seventh rubber, to rise and leave the table. "I can't touch a card without losing," he said. "I am decidedly too unlucky." "But you are lucky in other ways," said the cheva- lier, giving him a sly look. That speech naturally made the rounds of the salon, where every one exclaimed on the exquisite taste of the chevalier, the Prince de Talleyrand of the province. "There 's no one like Monsieur de Valois for such wit." Du Bousquier went to look at himself in a little ob- long mirror, placed above the "Deserter," but he saw nothing strange in his appearance. After innumerable repetitions of the same text, varied in all keys, the departure of the company took place about ten o'clock, through the long antechamber, Mademoiselle Cormon conducting certain of her favor- ite guests to the portico. There the groups parted: some followed the Bretagne road toward the chateau ; the others went in the direction of the river Sarthe. Then began the usual conversation, which for twenty years had echoed at that hour through this particu- lar street of Alencon. It was invariably: — "Mademoiselle Cormon looked very well to-night." "Matiemoiselle Cormon? why, I thought her rather strange." "How that poor abbe fails! Did you notice that 298 An Old Maid. he slept? He does not know what cards be bolds; be is getting very absent-minded." "We sball soon bave tbe grief of losing him." "What a fine night! It will be a fine day to- morrow. " "Good weather for the apple-blossoms. "You beat us; but when you play with Monsieur de Valois you never do otherwise." "How much did he win? " "Well, to-night, three or four francs; he never loses." "True; and don't you know there are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year? At that price his gains are the value of a farm." "Ah! what hands we had to-night! " "Here you are at home, monsieur and madame; how lucky you are, while we have half the town to cross ! " "I don't pity you; you could afford a carriage, and dispense with the fatigue of going on foot." "Ah, monsieur! we have a daughter to marry, which takes off one wheel, and the support of our son in Paris carries off another." "You persist in making a magistrate of him? " "What else can be done with a young man? Be- sides, there 's no shame in serving the king." Sometimes a discussion on ciders and flax, always couched in the same terms, and returning at the same time of year, was continued on the homeward way. If any observer of human customs had lived in this street, he would have known the months and seasons by simply overhearing the conversations. On this occasion it was exclusively jocose; for du An Old Maid. 299 Bousquier, who chanced to march alone in front of the groups, was humming the well-known air, — little thinking of its appropriateness, — "Tender woman! hear the warble of the birds," etc. To some, du Bousquier was a strong man and a misjudged man. Ever since he had been confirmed in his present office by a royal decree, Monsieur du Ronceret had been in favor of du Bousquier. To others the purveyor seemed dangerous, — a man of bad habits, capable of anything. In the provinces, as in Paris, men be- fore the public eye are like that statue in the fine allegorical tale of Addison, for which two knights on arriving near it fought; for one saw it white, the other saw it black. Then, when they were both off their horses, they saw it was white one side and black the other. A third knight coming along declared it red. When the chevalier went home that night, he made many reflections, as follows : — "It is high time now to spread a rumor of my mar- riage with Mademoiselle Cormon. It will leak out from the d'Esgrignon salon, and go straight to the bishop at Seez, and so get round through the grand vicars to the curate of Saint-Leonard's, who will be certain to tell it to the Abbe Couturier; and Made- moiselle Cormon will get the shot in her upper works. The old Marquis d'Esgrignon shall invite the Abb ^ de Sponde to dinner, so as to stop all gossip about Mademoiselle Cormon if I decide against her, or about me if she refuses me. The abbe shall be well cajoled; and Mademoiselle Cormon will certainly not hold out against a visit from Mademoiselle Armande, who will 300 An Old Maid. show her the grandeur and future chances of such an alliance. The abbe's property is undoubtedly as much as three hundred thousand; her own savings must amount to more than two hundred thousand ; she has her house and Prebaudet and fifteen thousand francs a year. A word to my friend the Comte de Fontaine, and I should be mayor of Alencon to-morrow, and deputy. Then, once seated on the Right benches, we shall reach the peerage, shouting, ' Cloture ! ' ' Ordre ! ' " As soon as she reached home Madame Granson had a lively argument with her son, who could not be made to see the connection which existed between his love and his political opinions. It was the first quarrel that had ever troubled that poor household. An Old Maid. 301 VI. FINAL DISAPPOINTMENT AND ITS FIRST RESULT. The next clay, Mademoiselle Cormon, packed into the old carriole with Josette, and looking like a pyra- mid on a vast sea of parcels, drove up the rue Saint- Blaise on her way to Prebaudet, where she was over- taken by an event which harried on her marriage, — an event entirely unlooked for by either Madame Grauson, du Bousquier, Monsieur de Valois, or Made- moiselle Cormon herself. Chance is the greatest of all artificers. The da} T after her arrival at Prebaudet, she was inno- cently employed, about eight o'clock in the morning, in listening, as she breakfasted, to the various reports of her keeper and her gardener, when Jacquelin made a violent irruption into the dining-room. "Mademoiselle," he cried, out of breath, "Monsieur l'abbe sends you an express, the son of Mere Gros- mort, with a letter. The lad left Alencon before day- light, and he has just arrived; he ran like Penelope! Can't I give him a glass of wine? " "What can have happened, Josette? Do you think m} T uncle can be — " "He couldn't write if he were," said Josette, guess- ins: her mistress's fears. 302 An Old Maid. "Quick! quick!" cried Mademoiselle Cormon, as soon as she had read the first liues. "Tell Jacquelin to harness Penelope — Get ready, Josette; pack up everything in half an hour. We must go back to town — " "Jacquelin!" called Josette, excited by the senti- ment she saw on her mistress's face. Jacquelin, informed by Josette, came in to say, — "But, mademoiselle, Penelope is eating her oats." "What does that signify? I must start at once." "But, mademoiselle, it is going to rain." "Then we shall get wet." "The house is on fire! " muttered Josette, piqued at the silence her mistress kept as to the contents of the letter, which she read and reread. "Finish your coffee, at any rate, mademoiselle; don't excite your blood; just see how red you are." "Am I red, Josette?" she said, going to a mirror, from which the quicksilver was peeling, and which pre- sented her features to her upside down. "Good heavens!" thought Mademoiselle Cormon, "suppose I should look ugly! Come, Josette; come, my dear, dress me at once ; I want to be ready before Jacquelin has harnessed Penelope. If you can't pack my things in time, I will leave them here rather than lose a single minute." If you have thoroughly comprehended the positive monomania to which the desire of marriage had brought Mademoiselle Cormon, you will share her emotion. The worthy uncle announced in this sudden missive that Monsieur de Troisville, of the Russian army during the Emigration, grandson of one of his best An Old Maid. 303 friends, was desirous of retiring to Alengon, and asked bis, the abbe's hospitality, on the ground of bis friendship for his grandfather, the Vicomte de Trois- ville. The old abbe, alarmed at the responsibility, entreated his niece to return instantly and help him to receive this guest, and do the honors of the house ; for the viscount's letter had been delayed, and he might descend upon his shoulders that very night. After reading this missive could there be a question of the demands of Prebaudet? The keeper and the gardener, witnesses to Mademoiselle Conxion's ex- citement, stood aside and awaited her orders. But when, as she was about to leave the room, they stopped her to ask for instructions, for the first time in her life the despotic old maid, who saw to every- thing at Prebaudet with her own eyes, said, to their stupefaction, "Do what you like." This from a mis- tress who carried her administration to the point of counting her fruits, and marking them so as to order their consumption according to the number and condi- tion of each! "I believe I'm dreaming," thought Josette, as she saw her mistress flying down the staircase like an ele- phant to which God had given wings. Presently, in spite of a driving rain, Mademoiselle Cormon drove away from Prebaudet, leaving her fac- totums with the reins on their necks. Jacquelin dared not take upon himself to hasten the usual little trot of the peaceable Penelope, who, like the beautiful queen whose name she bore, had an appearance of making as many steps backward as she made forward. Impa- tient with the pace, mademoiselle ordered Jacquelin in 304 An Old Maid. a sharp voice to drive at a gallop, with the whip, if necessary, to the great astonishment of the poor beast, so afraid was she of not having time to arrange the house suitably to receive Monsieur de Troisville. She calculated that the grandson of her uncle's friend was probably about forty years of age; a soldier just from service was undoubtedly a bachelor; and she resolved, her uncle aiding, not to let Monsieur de Troisville quit their house in the condition he entered it. Though Penelope galloped, Mademoiselle Cormon, absorbed in thoughts of her trousseau and the wedding- day, declared again and again that Jacquelin made no way at all. She twisted about in the carriole with- out replying to Josette's questions, and talked to her- self like a person who is mentally revolving important designs. The carriole at last arrived in the main street of Alencon, called the rue Saint-Blaise at the end toward Mortagne, but near the hotel du More it takes the name of the rue de la Porte-de-Seez, and becomes the rue du Bercail as it enters the road to Brittany. If the departure of Mademoiselle Cormon made a great noise in Alencon, it is easy to imagine the uproar caused by her sudden return on the following day, in a pouring rain which beat in her face without her apparently minding it. Penelope at a gallop was ob- served by every one, and Jacquelin's grin, the early hour, the parcels stuffed into the carriole topsy-turvy, and the evident impatience of Mademoiselle Cormon were all noted. The property of the house of Troisville lay between Alenc/m and Mortagne. Josette knew the various An Old Maid. 305 branches of the family. A word dropped b}^ made- moiselle as they entered Alenqon had put Josette on the scent of the affair; and a discussion having started between them, it was settled that the expected de Troisville must be between forty and forty-two years of age, a bachelor, and neither rich nor poor. Made- moiselle Cormon beheld herself speedily Vicomtesse de Troisville. "And to think that my uncle told me nothing! thinks of nothing! inquires nothing! That's my uncle all over. He'd forget his own nose if it was n't fastened to his face." Have you never remarked that, under circumstances such as these, old maids become, like Richard III., keen-witted, fierce, bold, promissory, — if one may so use the word, — and, like inebriate clerks, no longer in awe of anything? Immediately the town of Alen<;on, speedily informed from the farther end of the rue de Saint-Blaise to the gate of Seez of this precipitate return, accompanied by singular circumstances, was perturbed throughout its viscera, both public and domestic. Cooks, shop* keepers, street passengers, told the news from door to door; thence it rose to the upper regions. Soon the words: "Mademoiselle Cormon has returned!" burst like a bombshell into all households. At that moment Jacquelin was descending from his wooden seat (polished by a process unknown to cabinet-makers), on which he perched in front of the carriole. He opened the great green gate, round at the top, and closed in sign of mourning; for during Mademoiselle Cormon's absence the evening assemblies did not take 20 306 An Old Maid. place. The faithful invited the Abbe de Sponde to their several houses; and Monsieur de Valois paid his debt by inviting him to dine at the Marquis d'Esgri- gnon's. Jacquelin, having opened the gate, called familiarly to Penelope, whom he had left in the middle of the street. That animal, accustomed to this pro- ceeding, turned in of herself, and circled round the courtyard in a manner to avoid injuring the flower-bed. Jacquelin then took her bridle and led the carriage to the portico. "Mariette!" cried Mademoiselle Cormon. " Mademoiselle ! " exclaimed Mariette, who was occupied in closing the gate. "Has the gentleman arrived?" "No, mademoiselle." "Where's my uncle?" "He is at church, mademoiselle." Jacquelin and Josette were by this time on the first step of the portico, holding out their hands to manoeuvre the exit of their mistress from the carriole as she pulled herself up by the sides of the vehicle and clung to the curtains. Mademoiselle then threw herself into their arms; because for the last two years she dared not risk her weight on the iron step, affixed to the frame of the carriage by a horrible mechanism of clumsy bolts. When Mademoiselle Cormon reached the level of the portico she looked about her courtyard with an air of satisfaction. "Come, come, Mariette, leave that gate alone; I want you." "There 's something in the wind," whispered Jacque- lin, as Mariette passed the carriole. An Old Maid. 307 "Mariette, what provisions have you in the house? " asked Mademoiselle Cormon, sitting down on the bench in the long antechamber like a person over- come with fatigue. "I haven't anything," replied Mariette, with her hands on her hips. "Mademoiselle knows very well that during her absence Monsieur l'abbe dines out every day. Yesterday I went to fetch him from Mademoiselle Armande's." "Where is he now?" "Monsieur l'abbe? Why, at church; he won't be in before three o'clock." "He thinks of nothing! he ought to have told you to go to market. Mariette, go at once ; and without wasting money, don't spare it; get all there is that is good and delicate. Go to the diligence office and see if you can send for pates ; and I want shrimps from the Erillante. What o'clock is it? " "A quarter to nine." "Good heavens! Mariette, don't stop to chatter. The person my uncle expects may arrive at any moment. If we had to give him a breakfast, where should we be with nothing; in the house?" Mariette turned back to Penelope in a lather, and looked at Jacquelin as if she would say, "Mademoiselle has put her hand on a husband this time." "Now, Josette," continued the old maid, "let us see where we had better put Monsieur de Troisville to sleep." With what joy she said the words, "Put Monsieur de Troisville " (pronounced Treville) "to sleep." How many ideas in those few words! The old maid was bathed in hope. 308 An Old Maid. "Will you put him in the green chamber?" "The bishop's room? No; that's too near mine," said Mademoiselle Cormon. "All very well for mon- seigneur; he 's a saintly man." "Give him your uncle's room." "Oh, that's so bare; it is actually indecent." "Well, then, mademoiselle, why not arrange a bed in your boudoir? It is easily done; and there's a fire- place. Moreau can certainly find in his warerooms a bed to match the hangings." "You are right, Josette. Go yourself to Moreau; consult with him what to do; I authorize you to get what is wanted. If the bed could be put up to-night without Monsieur de Troisville' s observing it (in case Monsieur de Troisville arrives while Moreau is here), I should like it. If Moreau won't engage to do this, then I must put Monsieur de Troisville in the green room, although Monsieur de Troisville would be so very near to me." Josette was departing when her mistress recalled her. "Stop! explain the matter to Jacquelin," she cried, in a loud nervous tone. "Tell him to go to Moreau; I must be dressed ! Fancy if Monsieur de Troisville surprised me as I am now! and my uncle not here to receive him! Oh, uncle, uncle! Come, Josette; come and dress me at once." "But Penelope?' said Josette, imprudently. "Always Penelope! Penelope this, Penelope that! Is Penelope the mistress of this house? " "But she is all of a lather, and she hasn't had time to eat her oats." An Old Maid. 309 "Then let her starve! " cried Mademoiselle Cormon; "provided I marry," she thought to herself. Hearing those words, which seemed to her like homicide, Josette stood still for a moment, speechless. Then, at a gesture from her mistress, she ran headlong down the steps of the portico. "The devil is in her, Jacquelin," were the first words she uttered. Thus all things conspired on this fateful day to pro- duce the great scenic effect which decided the future life of Mademoiselle Cormon. The town was already topsy-turvy in mind, as a consequence of the five extraordinary circumstances which accompanied Made- moiselle Cormon's return; to wit, the pouring rain; Penelope at a gallop, in a lather, and blown ; the early hour; the parcels half-packed; and the singular air of the excited old maid. But when Mariette made an invasion of the market, and bought all the best things ; when Jacquelin went to the principal upholsterer in Alencon, two doors from the church, in search of a bed, — there was matter for the gravest conjectures. These extraordinary events were discussed on all sides; they occupied the minds of every one, even Mademoi- selle Armande herself, with whom was Monsieur de Valois. Within two days the town of Alengon had been agitated by such startling events that certain good women were heard to remark that the world was coming to an end. This last news, however, resolved itself into a single question, "What is happening at the Cormons? " The Abbe de Sponde, adroitly questioned when he left Saint-Leonard's to take his daily walk with the 310 An Old Maid. Abbe Couturier, replied with his usual kindliness that he expected the Vicomte de Troisville, a nobleman in the service of Russia during the Emigration, who was returning to Alencon to settle there. From two to five o'clock a species of labial telegraphy went on through- out the town; and all the inhabitants learned that Mademoiselle Cormon had at last found a husband by letter, and was about to marry the Vicomte de Trois- ville. Some said, "Moreau has sold them a bed." The bed was six feet wide in that quarter; it was four feet wide at Madame Granson's, in the rue du Bercail; but it was reduced to a simple couch at Monsieur du Ronceret's, where du Bousquier was dining. The lesser bourgeoisie declared that the cost was eleven hundred francs. But generally it was thought that, as to this, rumor was counting the chickens before they were hatched. In other quarters it was said that Mariette had made such a raid on the market that the price of carp had risen. At the end of the rue Saint- Blaise, Penelope had dropped dead. . This decease was doubted in the house of the receiver-general ; but at the Prefecture it was authenticated that the poor beast had expired as she turned into the courtyard of the hotel Cormon, with such velocity had the old maid flown to meet her husband. The harness-maker, who lived at the corner of the rue de Seez, was bold enough to call at the house and ask if anything had happened to Mademoiselle Conxion's carriage, in order to dis- cover whether Penelope was really dead. From the end of the rue Saint-Blaise to the end of the rue du Bercail, it was then made known that, thanks to Jacquelin's devotion, Penelope, that silent victim of An Old Maid. 311 her mistress's impetuosity, still lived, though she seemed to be suffering. Aloug the road to Brittany the Yicomte de Trois- ville was stated to be a younger son without a penny, for the estates in Perch e belonged to the Marquis de Troisville, peer of France, who had children; the marriage would be, therefore, an enormous piece of luck for a poor emigre. The aristocracy along that road approved of the marriage; Mademoiselle Cornion could not do better with her money. But among the bourgeoisie, the Vicorate de Troisville was a Russian general who had fought against France, and was now returning with a great fortune made at the court of Saint-Petersburg ; he was a foreigner ; one of those allies so hated by the liberals; the Abbe de Sponde had slyly negotiated this marriage. All the persons who had a right to call upon Mademoiselle Cormon determined to do so that very evening. During this transurban excitement, which made that of Suzanne an almost forgotten affair, Mademoiselle Cormon was not less agitated; she was filled with a variety of novel emotions. Looking about her salon, dining-room, and boudoir, cruel apprehensions took possession of her. A species of demon showed her with a sneer her old-fashioned luxury. The hand- some things she had admired from her youth up she suddenly suspected of age and absurdity. In short, she felt that fear which takes possession of nearly all authors when they read over a work they have hitherto thought proof against every exacting or blase critic: new situations seem timeworn; the best-turned and most highly polished phrases limp and squint; meta- 312 An Old Maid. phors and images grin or contradict each other; what- soever is false strikes the eye. In like manner this poor woman trembled lest she should see on the lips of Monsieur de Troisville a smile of contempt for this episcopal salon ; she dreaded the cold look he might cast over that ancient dining-room; in short, she feared the frame might injure and age the portrait. Suppose these antiquities should cast a reflected light of old age upon herself? This question made her flesh creep. She would gladly, at that moment, spend half her savings on refitting her house if some fairy wand could do it in a moment. Where is the general who has not trembled on the eve of a battle? The poor woman was now between her Austerlitz and her Waterloo. "Madame la Vicomtesse de Troisville," she said to herself; "a noble name! Our property will go to a good family, at any rate." She fell a prey to an irritation which made every fibre of her nerves quiver to all their papillae, long sunk in flesh. Her blood, lashed by this new hope, was in motion. She felt the strength to converse, if necessary, with Monsieur de Troisville. It is useless to relate the activity with which Josette, Jacquelin, Mariette, Moreau, and his agents went about their functions. It was like the busyness of ants about their eggs. All that daily care had already rendered neat and clean was again gone over and brushed and rubbed and scrubbed. The china of ceremony saw the light; the damask linen marked "A, B, C" was drawn from depths where it lay under a triple guard of wrappings, still further defended by formidable lines An Old Maid. 313 of pins. Above all, Mademoiselle Cormon sacrificed on the altar of her hopes three bottles of the famous liqueurs of Madame Amphoux, the most illustrious of all the distillers of the tropics, — a name very dear to gourmets. Thanks to the devotion of her lieuten- ants, mademoiselle was soon ready for the conflict. The different weapons — furniture, cookery, provi- sions, in short, all the various munitions of war, together with a body of reserve forces — were ready along the whole line. Jacquelin, Mariette, and Josette received orders to appear in full dress. The garden was raked. The old maid regretted that she could n't come to an understanding with the nightingales nest- ing in the trees, in order to obtain their finest trilling. At last, about four o'clock, at the very moment when the Abbe de Sponde returned home, and just as mademoiselle began to think she had set the table with the best plate and linen and prepared the choi- cest dishes to no purpose, the click-clack of a postilion was heard in the Val-Noble. " 'T is he! " she said to herself, the snap of the whip echoing in her heart. True enough; heralded by all this gossip, a post- chaise, in which was a single gentleman, made so great a sensation coming down the rue Saint-Blaise and turning; into the rue du Cours that several little gamins and some grown persons followed it, and stood in groups about the gate of the hotel Cormon to see it enter. Jacquelin, who foresaw his own mar- riage in that of his mistress, had also heard the click- clack in the rue Saint-Blaise, and had opened wide the gates into the courtyard. The postilion, a friend 314 An Old Maid. of his, took pride in making a fine turn-in, and drew up sharply before the portico. The abbe came forward to greet his guest, whose carriage was emptied with a speed that highwaymen might put into the operation ; the chaise itself was rolled into the coach-house, the gates closed, and in a few moments all signs of Mon- sieur de Troisville's arrival had disappeared. Never did two chemicals blend into each other with greater rapidity than the hotel Cormon displayed in absorb- ing the Vicomte de Troisville. Mademoiselle, whose heart was beating like a lizard caught by a herdsman, sat heroically still on her sofa, beside the fire in the salon. Josette opened the door; and the Vicomte de Troisville, followed by the Abbe de Sponde, presented himself to the eyes of the spinster. "Niece, this is Monsieur le Vicomte de Troisville, the grandson of one of my old schoolmates; Mon- sieur de Troisville, my niece, Mademoiselle Cormon." "Ah! that good uncle; how well he does it!" thought Rose-Marie-Victoire. The Vicomte de Troisville was, to paint him in two words, du Bousquier ennobled. Between the two men there was precisely the difference which separates the vulgar style from the noble style. If they had both been present, the most fanatic liberal would not have denied the existence of aristocracy. The viscount's strength had all the distinction of elegance; his figure had preserved its magnificent dignity. He had blue eyes, black hair, an olive skin, and looked to be about forty-six years of age. You might have thought him a handsome Spaniard preserved in the ice of Russia. An Old Maid. 315 His manner, carriage, and attitude, all denoted a diplomat who had seen Europe. His dress was that of a well-bred traveller. As he seemed fatigued, the abbe offered to show him to his room, and was much amazed when his niece threw open the door of the boudoir, transformed into a bedroom. Mademoiselle Cormon and her uncle then left the noble stranger to attend to his own affairs, aided by Jacquelin, who brought up his luggage, and went themselves to walk beside the river until their guest had made his toilet. Although the Abbe de Sponde chanced to be even more absent-minded than usual, Mademoiselle Cormon herself was not less preoccu- pied. They both walked on in silence. The old maid had never before met any man as seductive as this Olympean viscount. She might have said to herself, as the Germans do, "This is my ideal!" instead of which she felt herself bound from head to foot, and could only say, "Here's my affair!" Then she flew to Mariette to know if the dinner could be put back a while without loss of excellence. "Uncle, your Monsieur de Troisville is very ami- able," she said, on returning. "Why, niece, he has n't as yet said a word." "But you can see it in his ways, his manners, his face. Is he a bachelor ? " "I 'm sure I don't know," replied the abbe, who was thinking of a discussion on mercy, lately begun be- tween the Abbe Couturier and himself. " Monsieur de Troisville wrote me that he wanted to buy a house here? If he was married, he wouldn't come alone on such an errand," added the abbe, carelessly, not 316 An Old Maid. conceiving the idea that his niece could be thinking of marriage. "Is he rich?" "He is a younger son of the younger branch," re- plied her uncle. "His grandfather commanded a squadron, but the father of this young man made a bad marriage." "Young man! " exclaimed the old maid. "It seems to me, uncle, that he must be at least forty-five." She felt the strongest desire to put their years on a par. "Yes," said the abbe; "but to a poor priest of seventy, Rose, a man of forty seems a youth." All Alencon knew by this time that Monsieur cle Troisville had arrived at the Cormons. The traveller soon rejoined his hosts, and began to admire the Bril- lante, the garden, and the house. "Monsieur Tabb^," he said, "my whole ambition is to have a house like this." The old maid fancied a declaration lurked in that speech, and she lowered her eyes. "You must enjoy it very much, mademoi- selle," added the viscount. "How could it be otherwise? It has been in our family since 1574, the period at which one of our ancestors, steward to the Due d'AlenQon, acquired the land and built the house," replied Mademoiselle Cormon. "It is built on piles," she added. Jacquelin announced dinner. Monsieur cle Trois- ville offered his arm to the happy woman, who endeav- ored not to lean too heavily upon it; she feared, as usual, to seem to make advances. "Everything is so harmonious here," said the vis- count, as he seated himself at table. An Old Maid. 317 " Yes, our trees are full of birds, which give us con- certs for nothing; no one ever frightens them; and the nightingales sing at night," said Mademoiselle Cormon. "I was speaking of the interior of the house," re- marked the viscount, who did not trouble himself to observe Mademoiselle Cormon, and therefore did not perceive the dulness of her mind. "Everything is so in keeping, — the tones of color, the furniture, the general character." "But it costs a great deal; taxes are enormous," re- sponded the excellent woman. "Ah! taxes are high, are they?" said the viscount, preoccupied with his own ideas. "I don't know," replied the abbe. "My niece man- ages the property of each of us." "Taxes are not of much importance to the rich," said Mademoiselle Cormon, not wishing to be thought miserly. "As for the furniture, I shall leave it as it is, and change nothing, — unless I marry; and then, of course, eveiything here must suit the husband." "You have noble principles, mademoiselle," said the viscount, smiling. "You will make one happy man." "No one ever made to me such a pretty speech," thought the old maid. The viscount complimented Mademoiselle Cormon on the excellence of her service and the admirable arrangements of the house, remarking that he had sup- posed the provinces behind the age in that respect; but, on the contrary, he found them, as the English say, "very comfortable." "What can that word mean ? " she thought. "Oh, 318 An Old Maid. where is the chevalier to explain it to me ? Comfort- able, — there seem to be several words in it. Well, courage!" she said to herself. "I can't be expected to answer a foreign language — But," she continued aloud, feeling her tongue untied by the eloquence which nearly all human creatures find in momentous circumstances, "we have a very brilliant society here, monsieur. It assembles at my house, and you shall judge of it this evening, for some of my faithful friends have no doubt heard of my return and your arrival. Among them is the Chevalier de Valois, a seigneur of the old court, a man of infinite wit and taste; then there is Monsieur le Marquis d'Esgrignon and Mademoiselle Armande, his sister" (she bit her tongue with vexation), — "a woman remarkable in her way," she added. "She resolved to remain unmarried in order to leave all her fortune to her brother and nephew." "Ah!" exclaimed the viscount. "Yes, the d'Es- grignons, — I remember them." "Alencon is very gay," continued the old maid, now fairly launched. "There's much amusement: the receiver-general gives balls; the prefect is an ami- able man ; and Monseigneur the bishop sometimes honors us with a visit — " "Well, then," said the viscount, smiling, "I have done wisely to come back, like the hare, to die in my form." "Yes," she said. "I, too, attach myself or I die." The viscount smiled. "Ah! " thought the old maid, "all is well; he under- stands me." An Old Maid. 319 The conversation continued on generalities. By one of those mysterious unknown and undelinable faculties, Mademoiselle Cormon found in her brain, under the pressure of her desire to be agreeable, all the phrases and opinions of the Chevalier de Valois. It was like a duel in which the devil himself pointed the pistol. Never was any adversary better aimed at. The viscount was far too well-bred to speak of the excellence of the dinner; but his silence was praise. As he drank the delicious wines which Jacquelin served to him profusely, he seemed to feel he was with friends, and to meet them with pleasure ; for the true connoisseur does not applaud, he enjoys. He in- quired the price of land, of houses, of estates; he made Mademoiselle Cormon describe at length the confluence of the Sarthe and the Brillante; he ex- pressed surprise that the town was placed so far f mm the river, and seemed to be much interested in the topography of the place. The silent abbs left his niece to throw the dice of conversation; and she truly felt that she pleased Monsieur de Troisville, who smiled at her gracefully, and committed himself during this one dinner far more than her most eager suitors had ever done in ten days. Imagine, therefore, the little attentions with which he was petted ; you might have thought him a cherished lover, whose return brought joy to the household. Mademoiselle foresaw the moment when the viscount wanted bread ; she watched his every look ; when he turned his head she adroitly put upon his plate a por- tion of some dish he seemed to like; had he been a gourmand, she would almost have killed him ; but what 320 An Old Maid. a delightful specimen of the attentions she would show to a husband ! She did not commit the foil} 7 of depre- ciating herself; on the contrary, she set every sail bravely, ran up all her flags, assumed the bearing of the queen of Alencon, and boasted of her excellent preserves. In fact, she fished for compliments in speaking of herself, for she saw that she pleased the viscount; the truth being that her eager desire had so transformed her that she became almost a woman. At dessert she heard, not without emotions of de- light, certain sounds in the antechamber and salon which denoted the arrival of her usual guests. She called the attention of her uncle and Monsieur de Troisville to this prompt attendance as a proof of the affection that was felt for her; whereas it was really the result of the poignant curiosity which had seized upon the town. Impatient to show herself in all her glory, Mademoiselle Cormon told Jacquelin to serve coffee and liqueurs in the salon, where he presently set out, in view of the whole company, a magnificent liqueur-stand of Dresden china which saw the light only twice a year. This circumstance was taken note of by the company, standing ready to gossip over the merest trifle : — "The deuce! " muttered du Bousquier. "Actually Madame Amphoux's liqueurs, which they onl}' serve at the four church festivals ! " "Undoubtedly the marriage was arranged a year ago by letter," said the chief-justice du Konceret "The postmaster tells me his office has received letters postmarked Odessa for more than a year." Madame Granson trembled. The Chevalier de An Old Maid. 321 Valois, though he had dined with the appetite of four men, turned pale even to the left section of his face. Feeling that he was about to betray himself, he said hastily, — "Don't you think it is very cold to-day? I am almost frozen." "The neighborhood of Russia, perhaps," said du Bousquier. The chevalier looked at him as if to say, "Well played ! " Mademoiselle Cormon appeared so radiant, so trium- phant, that the company thought her handsome. This extraordinary brilliancy was not the effect of sentiment onty. Since early morning her blood had been whirl- ing tempestuously within her, and her nerves were agitated by the presentiment of some great crisis. It required all these circumstances combined to make her so unlike herself. With what joy did she now make her solemn presentations of the viscount to the chevalier, the chevalier to the viscount, and all Alen- o,on to Monsieur de Troisville, and Monsieur de Troisville to all Alencon ! By an accident wholly explainable, the viscount and chevalier, aristocrats by nature, came instantly into unison ; they recognized each other at once as men belonging to the same sphere. Accordingly, they began to converse together, standing before the fireplace. A circle formed around them; and their conversation, though uttered in a low voice, was lis- tened to in religious silence. To give the effect of this scene it is necessary to dramatize it, and to pic- ture Mademoiselle Cormon occupied in pouring out 21 322 An Old Maid. the coffee of her imaginary suitor, with her back to the fireplace. Monsieur de Valois: Monsieur le vicomte has come, I am told, to settle in Alengon? Monsieur de Troisville: Yes, monsieur, I am looking for a house. [Mademoiselle Cormon, cup in hand, turns round.'] It must be a large house [3Iade- 7iioiselle Cormon offers him the cup] to lodge my whole family. [The eyes of the old maid are troubled.] Monsieur de Valois: Are you married? Monsieur de Troisville: Yes, for the last sixteen years, to a daughter of the Princess Scherbellof. Mademoiselle Cormon fainted; du Bousquier, who saw her stagger, sprang forward and received her in his arms ; some one opened the door and allowed him to pass out with his enormous burden. The fiery republican, instructed by Josette, found strength to carry the old maid to her bedroom, where he laid her on the bed. Josette, armed with scissors, cut the corset, which was terribly tight. Du Bousquier flung water on Mademoiselle Cormon' s face and bosom, which, released from the corset, overflowed like the Loire in flood. The poor woman opened her eyes, saw du Bousquier, and gave a cry of modesty at the sight of him. Du Bousquier retired at once, leaving six women, at the head of whom was Madame Gran- son, radiant with joy, to take care of the invalid. What had the Chevalier de Valois been about all this time? Faithful to his system, he had covered the retreat. "That poor Mademoiselle Cormon," he said to Monsieur de Troisville, gazing at the assembly, whose An Old Maid. 323 laughter was repressed by his cool aristocratic glances, "her blood is horribly out of order; she wouldn't be bled before going to Prebaudet (her estate), — and see the result!" "She came back this morning in the rain," said the Abbe de Sponde, "and she may have taken cold. It won't be anything; it is only a little upset she is sub- ject to." "She told me yesterday she had not had one for three months, adding that she was afraid it would play her a trick at last," said the chevalier. "Ha! so you are married?" said Jacquelin to him- self as he looked at Monsieur de Troisville, who was quietly *sipping his coffee. The faithful servant espoused his mistress's disap- pointment; he divined it, and he promptly carried away the liqueurs of Madame Amphoux, which were offered to a bachelor, and not to the husband of a Russian woman. All these details were noticed and laughed at. The Abbe de Sponde knew the object of Monsieur de Troisville's journey; but, absent-minded as usual, he forgot it, not supposing that his niece could have the slightest interest in Monsieur de Troisville's mar- riage. As for the viscount, preoccupied with the object of his journey, and, like many husbands, not eager to talk about his wife, he had had no occasion to say he was married; besides, he would naturally suppose that Mademoiselle Cormon knew it. Du Bousquier reappeared, and was questioned furi- ously. One of the six women came down soon after, and announced that Mademoiselle Cormon was much 324 An Old Maid. better, and that the doctor had come. She intended to stay in bed, as it was necessary to bleed her. The salon was now full. Mademoiselle Cormon's absence allowed the ladies present to discuss the tragi-comic scene — embellished, extended, historified, embroid- ered, wreathed, colored, and adorned — which had just taken place, and which, on the morrow, was destined to occupy all Alencon. 4 'That good Monsieur du Bousquier! how well he carried you! " said Josette to her mistress. "He was really pale at the sight of you; he loves you still." That speech served as closure to this solemn and terrible evening. Throughout the morning of the next day every cir- cumstance of the late comedy was known in the house- holds of Alencon, and — let us say it to the shame of that town, — they caused inextinguishable laughter. But on that day Mademoiselle Cormon (much bene- fited by the bleeding) would have seemed sublime even to the boldest scoffers, had they witnessed the noble dignity, the splendid Christian resignation 1 which influenced her as she gave her arm to her invol- untary deceiver to go into breakfast. Cruel jesters! why could you not have seen her as she said to the viscount, — "Madame de Troisville will have difficulty in finding a suitable house; do me the favor, monsieur, of accept- ing the use of mine during the time you are in search of yours." "But, mademoiselle, I have two sons and two daughters; we should greatly inconvenience you." "Pray do not refuse me," she said earnestly. An Old Maid. 325 "I made yau the same offer in the answer I wrote to your letter," said the abbe; "but you did not re- ceive it." "What, uncle! then you knew — " The poor woman stopped. Josette sighed. Neither the viscount nor the abbe observed anything amiss. After breakfast the Abbe de Sponde carried off his guest, as agreed upon the previous evening, to show him the various houses in Alencon which could be bought, and the lots of lands on which he might build. Left alone in the salon, Mademoiselle Cormon said to Josette, with a deeply distressed air, "My child, I am now the talk of the whole town." Well, then, mademoiselle, } t ou should marry." But I am not prepared to make a choice." 'Bah! if I were in your place, I should take Mon- sieur du Bousquier." "Josette, Monsieur de Valois says he is so republican." "They don't know what they say, your gentlemen: sometimes they declare that he robbed the republic; he couldn't love it if he did that," said Josette, departing. "That girl has an amazing amount of sense," thought Mademoiselle Cormon, who remained alone, a prey to her perplexities. She saw plainly that a prompt marriage was the only way to silence the town. This last checkmate, so evidently mortifying, was of a nature to drive her into some extreme action; for persons deficient in mind find difficulty in getting out of any path, either good or evil, into which they have entered. u u u 326 An Old Maid. Each of the two old bachelors had fully understood the situation in which Mademoiselle Cormon was about to find herself; consequently, each resolved to call in the course of that morning to ask after her health, and take occasion, in bachelor language, to ''press his point." Monsieur de Valois considered that such an occasion demanded a painstaking toilet; he therefore took a bath and groomed himself with ex- traordinary care. For the first and last time Cesarine observed him putting on with incredible art a suspicion of rouge. Du Bousquier, on the other hand, that coarse republican, spurred by a brisk will, paid no attention to his dress, and arrived the first. Such little things decide the fortunes of men, as they do of empires. Kellermann's charge at Marengo, Bliicher's arrival at Waterloo, Louis XIV. 's disdain for Prince Eugene, the rector of Denain, — all these great causes of fortune or catastrophe history has recorded; but no one ever profits by them to avoid the small neglects of their own life. Consequently, observe what happens: the Duchesse de Langeais (see " History of the Thirteen ") makes herself a nun for lack of ten minutes' patience; Judge Popinot (see "Commission in Lunacy ") puts off till the morrow the duty of examining the Marquis d'Espard; Charles Grandet (see "Eugeuie Grandet") goes to Paris from Bordeaux instead of returning by Nantes; and such events are called chance or fatality! A touch of rouge carefully applied destroyed the hopes of the Chevalier de Valois; could that nobleman perish in any other way? He had lived by the Graces, and he was doomed to die by their hand. While the cheva- An Old Maid. 327 lier was giving this last touch to his toilet the rough du Bousquier was entering the salon of the desolate old maid. This entrance produced a thought in Made- moiselle Cormon's mind which was favorable to the republican, although in all other respects the Cheva- lier de Valois held the advantages. "God wills it! " she said piously, on seeing du Bousquier. "Mademoiselle, you will not, I trust, think my eagerness importunate. I could not trust to my stupid Rene to bring news of your condition, and therefore I have come myself." "I am perfectly recovered," she replied, in a tone of emotion. "I thank you, Monsieur du Bousquier," she added, after a slight pause, and in a significant tone of voice, "for the trouble you have taken, and for that which I gave you yesterday — " She remembered having been in his arms, and that aoain seemed to her an order from heaven. She had been seen for the first time by a man with her laces cut, her treasures violently bursting from their casket. "I carried you with such joy that you seemed to me light." Here Mademoiselle Cormon looked at du Bousquier as she had never yet looked at any man in the world. Thus encouraged, the purveyor cast upon the old maid a glance which reached her heart. "I would," he said, "that that moment had given me the right to keep you as mine forever [she listened with a delighted air] ; as you lay fainting upon that bed, you were enchanting. I have never in my life seen a more beautiful person, — and I have seen many 328 An Old Maid. handsome women. Plump ladies have this advantage: they are superb to look upon ; they have only to show themselves, and they triumph." "I fear you are making fun of me," said the old maid, "and that is not kind when all the town will probably misinterpret what happened to me yesterday." "As true as my name is du Bousquier, mademoi- selle, I have never changed in my feelings toward you ; and your first refusal has not discouraged me." . The old maid's eyes were lowered. There was a moment of cruel silence for du Bousquier, and then Mademoiselle Cormon decided on her course. She raised her eyelids; tears rolled from her eyes, and she gave du Bousquier a tender glance. "If that is so, monsieur," she said, in a trembling voice, "promise me to live in a Christian manner, and not oppose my religious customs, but to leave me the right to select my confessors, and I will grant you my hand ; " as she said the words, she held it out to him. Du Bousquier seized the good fat hand so full of money, and kissed it solemnly. 4 'But," she said, allowing him to kiss it, "one thing more I must require of you." "If it is a possible thing, it is granted," replied the purveyor. "Alas!" returned the old maid. "For my sake, I must ask you to take upon yourself a sin which I feel to be enormous, — for to lie is one of the capital sins. But you will confess it, will you not? We will do penance for it together [they looked at each other tenderly]. Besides, it may be one of those lies which the Church permits as necessary — " u if An Old Maid. 329 "Can she be as Suzanne says she is? " thought du Bousquier. "What luck! Well, mademoiselle, what is it?" he said aloud. "That you will take upon yourself to — " "What?" "To say that this marriage has been agreed upon between us for the last six months." "Charming woman," said the purveyor, in the tone of a man willing to devote himself, "such sacrifices can be made only for a creature adored these ten years." In spite of my harshness? " she said. Yes, in spite of your harshness." "Monsieur du Bousquier, I have misjudged you." Again she held out the fat red hand, which du Bous- quier kissed again. At this moment the door opened; the betrothed pair, looking round to see who entered, beheld the delightful, but tardy Chevalier de Valois. "Ah! " he said, on entering, "I see you are able to be up, fair queen." She smiled at the chevalier, feeling a weight upon her heart. Monsieur de Valois, remarkably young and seductive, had the air of a Lauzun re-entering the apartments of the Grande Mademoiselle in the Palais- Royal. "Hey! dear du Bousquier," said he, in a jaunty tone, so sure was he of success, "Monsieur de Trois- ville and the Abbe de Sponde are examining your house like appraisers." "Faith!" said du Bousquier, "if the Vicomte de Troisville wants it, it is his for forty thousand francs. 830 An Old Maid. It is useless to me now. If mademoiselle will permit — it must soon be known — Mademoiselle, may I tell it? — Yes! Well, then, be the first, my dear chevalier, to hear [Mademoiselle Cormon dropped her eyes] of the honor that mademoiselle has doue me, the secret of which I have kept for some months. We shall be married in a few days; the contract is already drawn, and we shall sign it to-morrow. You see, therefore, that my house in the rue du Cygne is useless to me. I have been privately looking for a purchaser for some time; and the Abbe de Sponde, who knew that fact, has naturally taken Monsieur de Troisville to see the house." This falsehood bore such an appearance of truth that the chevalier was taken in by it. That "my dear chevalier" was like the revenge taken by Peter the Great on Charles XII. at Pultawa for all his past defeats. Du Bousquier revenged himself deliciously for the thousand little shafts he had long borne in silence ; but in his triumph he made a lively youthful gesture by running his hands through his hair, and in so doing he — knocked aside his false front. "I congratulate you both," said the chevalier, with an agreeable air; "and I wish that the marriage may end like a fairy tale: They were happy ever after, and had • — many — children! " So saying, he took a pinch of snuff. "But, monsieur," he added satiri- cally, "you forget — that you are wearing a false front." Du Bousquier blushed. The false front was hang- ing half a dozen inches from his skull. Mademoiselle Cormon raised her eyes, saw that skull in all its An Old Maid. 331 nudity, and lowered them, abashed. Du Bousquier cast upon the chevalier the most venomous look that toad ever darted on its prey. "Dogs of aristocrats, who despise me," thought he, "I '11 crush you some da}"." The chevalier thought he had recovered his advan- tages. But Mademoiselle Cormon was not a woman to understand the connection which the chevalier inti- mated between his congratulatory wish and the false front. Besides, even if she had comprehended it, her word was passed, her hand given. Monsieur de Valois saw at once that all was lost. The innocent woman, with the two now silent men before her, wished, true to her sense of duty, to amuse them. "Why not play a game of piquet together?" she said artlessly, without the slightest malice. Du Bousquier smiled, and went, as the future master of the house, to fetch the piquet table. Whether the Chevalier de ( Valois lost his head, or whether he wanted to stay and study the causes of his disaster and remedy it, certain it is that he allowed himself to be led like a lamb to the slaughter. He had received the most violent knock-down blow that ever struck a man; any nobleman would have lost his senses for less. The Abbe de Sponde and the Vicomte de Troisville soon returned. Mademoiselle Cormon instantly rose, hurried into the antechamber, and took her uncle apart to tell him her resolution. Learning that the house in the rue du Cygne exactly suited the viscount, she begged her future husband to do her the kindness to tell him that her uncle knew it was for sale. She 332 An Old Maid. dared not confide that lie to the abbe, fearing his absent-mindedness. The lie, however, prospered better than if it had been a virtuous action. In the course of that evening all Alencon heard the news. For the last four days the town had had as much to think of as during the fatal days of 1814 and 1815. Some laughed; others admitted the marriage. These blamed it; those approved it. The middle classes of Alencon rejoiced ; they regarded it as a victory. The next day, among friends, the Chevalier de Valois said a cruel thing : — "The Cormons end as they began; there's only a hand's breadth between a steward and a purveyor." An Old Maid. 333 VII. OTHER RESULTS. The news of Mademoiselle Conxion's choice stabbed poor Athanase Granson to the heart; but he showed no outward sign of the terrible agitation within him. When he first heard of the marriage he was at the house of the chief -justice, du Ronceret, where his mother was playing boston. Madame Granson looked at her son in a mirror, and thought him pale; but he had been so all day, for a vague rumor of the matter had already reached him. Mademoiselle Cormon was the card on which Atha- nase had staked his life ; and the cold presentiment of a catastrophe was already upon him. When the soul and the imagination have magnified a misfortune and made it too heavy for the shoulders and the brain to bear; when a hope long cherished, the realization of which would pacify the vulture feeding on the heart, is balked, and the man has faith neither in himself, despite his powers, nor in the future, despite of the Divine power, — then that man is lost. Athanase was a fruit of the Imperial system of education. Fatal- ity, the Emperor's religion, had filtered clown from the throne to the lowest ranks of the army and the benches of the lyceums. Athanase sat still, with his eyes fixed on Madame du Ronceret' s cards, in a stupor that might so well pass for indifference that Madame Granson 334 An Old Maid. herself was deceived about his feelings. This appar- ent unconcern explained her son's refusal to make a sacrifice for this marriage of his liberal opinions, — the term "liberal" having lately been created for the Em- peror Alexander by, I think, Madame de Stael, through the lips of Benjamin Constant. After that fatal evening the young man took to rambling among the picturesque regions of the Sarthe, the banks of which are much frequented by sketchers who come to Alencon for points of view. Windmills are there, and the river is gay in the meadows. The shores of the Sarthe are bordered with beautiful trees, well grouped. Though the landscape is flat, it is not without those modest graces which distinguish France, where the eye is never wearied by the brilliancy of Oriental skies, nor saddened by constant fog. The place is solitary. In the provinces no one pays much attention to a fine view, either because provincials are biases on the beauty around them, or because they have no poesy in their souls. ^ If there exists in the provinces a mall, a promenade, a vantage-ground from which a fine view can be obtained, that is the point to which no one goes. Athanase was fond of this soli- tude, enlivened by the sparkling water, where the fields were the first to green under the earliest smiling of the springtide sun. Those persons who saw him sitting beneath a poplar, and who noticed the vacant eye which he turned to them, would say to Madame Granson : — "Something is the matter with your son." "I know what it is," the mother would reply; hint- ing that he was meditating over some great work. An Old Maid. 335 Athanase no longer took part in politics : be ceased to have opinions; but he appeared at times quite gay, — gay with the satire of those who think to insult a whole world with their own individual scorn. This young man, outside of all the ideas and all the pleas- ures of the provinces, interested few persons; he was not even an object of curiosity. If persons spoke of him to his mother, it was for her sake, not his. There was not a single soul in Alencon that sympathized with his; not a woman, not a friend came near to dry his tears ; they dropped into the Sarthe. If the gor- geous Suzanne had happened that way, how many young miseries might have been born of the meeting! for the two would surely have loved each other. She did come, however. Suzanne's ambition was early excited by the tale of a strange adventure which happened at the tavern of the More, — a tale which had taken possession of her childish brain. A Parisian woman, beautiful as the angels, was sent by Fouche to entangle the Marquis de Montauran, otherwise called "The Gars," in a love-affair (see "The Chouans"). She met him at the tavern of the More on his return from an expedition to Mortagne; she cajoled him, made him love her, and then betrayed him. That fantastic power — the power of beauty over mankind; in fact, the whole story of Marie de Verneuil and the Gars — dazzled Suzanne; she longed to grow up in order to play upon men. Some months after her hasty departure she passed through her native town with an artist on his way to Brittany. She wanted to see Fougeres, where the adventure of the Marquis de Mon- tauran culminated, and to stand upon the scene of 336 An Old Maid. that picturesque war, the tragedies of which, still so little known, had filled her childish mind. Besides this, she had a fancy to pass through Alenqon so elegantly equipped that no one could recognize her; to put her mother above the reach of necessity, and also to send to poor Athanase, in a delicate manner, a sum of money, — which in our age is to genius what in the middle ages was the charger and the coat of mail that Rebecca conveyed to Ivanhoe. ODe month passed away in the strangest uncertain- ties respecting the marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon. A party of unbelievers denied the marriage altogether; the believers, on the other hand, affirmed it. At the end of two weeks, the faction of unbelief received a vigorous blow in the sale of du Bousquier's house to the Marquis de Troisville, who only wanted a simple establishment in Alencon, intending to go to Paris after the death of the Princess Scherbellof; he pro- posed to await that inheritance in retirement, and then to reconstitute his estates. This seemed posi- tive. The unbelievers, however, were not crushed. They declared that du Bousquier, married or not, had made an excellent sale, for the house had only cost him twenty-seven thousand francs. The believers were depressed by this practical observation of the in- credulous. Choisnel, Mademoiselle Cormon's notary, asserted the latter, had heard nothing about the mar- riage contract; but the believers, still firm in their faith, carried off, on the twentieth day, a signal vic- tory: Monsieur Lepressoir, the notary of the liberals, went to Mademoiselle Cormon's house, and the con- tract was signed. An Old Maid. 337 This was the first of the numerous sacrifices which Mademoiselle Cormon was destiued to make to her husband. Du Bousquier bore the deepest hatred to Choisnel; to him he owed the refusal of the hand of Mademoiselle Armande, — a refusal which, as he be- lieved, had influenced that of Mademoiselle Cormon. This circumstance alone made the marriage drag- along. Mademoiselle received several anonymous letters. She learned, to her great astonishment, that Suzanne was as truly a virgin as herself so far as du Bousquier was concerned, for that seducer with the false toupet could never be the hero of any such adventure. Mademoiselle Cormon disdained anony- mous letters; but she wrote to Suzanne herself, on the ground of enlightening the Maternity Society. Suzanne, who had no doubt heard of du Bousquier's proposed marriage, acknowledged her trick, sent a thousand francs to the society, and did all the harm she could to the old purveyor. Mademoiselle Cormon convoked the Maternity Society, which held a special meeting at which it was voted that the association would not in future assist any misfortunes about to happen, but solely those that had happened. In spite of all these various events which kept the town in the choicest gossip, the banns were published in the churches and at the mayor's office. Athanase prepared the deeds. As a matter of propriety and public decency, the bride retired to Prebaudet, where du Bousquier, bearing sumptuous and horrible bou- quets, betook himself every morning, returning home for dinner. At last, on a dull and rainy morning in June, the 22 338 An Old Maid. marriage of Mademoiselle Cormon and the Sieur du Bousquier took place at noon in the parish church of Alen<;on, in sight of the whole town. The bridal pair went from their own houses to the mayor's office, and from the mayor's office to the church in an open caleche, a magnificent vehicle for Alenqon, which du Bousquier had sent for secretly to Paris. The loss of the old carriole was a species of calamity in the eyes of the community. The harness-maker of the Porte de Se'ez bemoaned it, for he lost the fifty francs a year which it cost in repairs. Alen^on saw with alarm the possi- bility of luxury being thus introduced into the town. Every one feared a rise in the price of rents and pro- visions, and a coming invasion of Parisian furniture. Some persons were sufficiently pricked by curiosity to give ten sous to Jacquelin to allow them a close inspection of the vehicle which threatened to upset the whole economy of the region. A pair of horses, bought in Normandie, were also most alarming. "If we bought our own horses," said the Ronceret circle, "we couldn't sell them to those who come to buy." Stupid as it was, this reasoning seemed sound ; for surely such a course would prevent the region from grasping the money of foreigners.' In the eyes of the provinces wealth consists less in the rapid turning over of money than in sterile accumulation. It may be mentioned here that Penelope succumbed to a pleurisy which she acquired about six weeks before the marriage; nothing could save her. Madame Granson, Mariette, Madame du Coudrai, Madame du Ronceret, and through them the whole An Old Maid. 339 town, remarked that Madame du Bousquier entered the church with her left foot, — an omen all the more dreadful because the term Left was beginning to ac- quire a political meaning. The priest whose duty it was to read the opening formula opened his book by chance at the De Profundus. Thus the marriage wa3 accompanied by circumstances so fateful, so alarming, so annihilating that no one dared to augur well of it. Matters, in fact, went from bad to worse. There was no wedding party; the married pair departed immedi- ately for Prebaudet. Parisian customs, said the com- munity, were about to triumph over time-honored provincial ways. The marriage of Jacquelin and Josette now took place : it was gay ; and they were the only two persons in Alencon who refuted the sinister prophecies relat- ing to the marriage of their mistress. Du Bousquier determined to use the proceeds of the sale of his late residence in restoring and modernizing the hotel Cormon. He decided to remain through two seasons at Prebaudet, and took the Abbe de Sponde with them. This news spread terror through the town, where every individual felt that du Bousquier was about to drag the community into the fatal path of "comfort." This fear increased when the inhabitants of Alengon saw the bridegroom driving in from Pre- baudet one morning to inspect his works, in a fine tilbury drawn by a new horse, having Rene at his side in livery. The first act of his administration had been to place his wife's savings on the Grand- Livre, which was then quoted at 67 fr. 50 cent. In the space of one year, during which he played con- 340 An Old Maid. stantly for a rise, he made himself a personal fortune almost as considerable as that of his wife. But all these foreboding prophecies, these perturb- ing innovations, were superseded and surpassed by an event connected with this marriage which gave a still more fatal aspect to it. On the very evening of the ceremony, Athanase and his mother were sitting, after their dinner, over a little fire of fagots, which the servant lighted usually at dessert. "Well, we will go this evening to the du Roncerets', inasmuch as we have lost Mademoiselle Cormon," said Madame Granson. " Heavens ! how shall I ever accus- tom myself to call her Madame du Bousquier! that name burns my lips." Athanase looked at his mother with a constrained and melancholy air; he could not smile; but he seemed to wish to welcome that naive sentiment which soothed his wound, though it could not cure his anguish. "Mamma," he said, in the voice of his childhood, so tender was it, and using the name he had abandoned for several years, — "my dear mamma, do not let us go out just yet; it is so pleasant here before the fire." The mother heard, without comprehending, that supreme prayer of a mortal sorrow. "Yes, let us stay, my child," she said. "I like much better to talk with you and listen to your pro- jects than to play at boston and lose my money." "You are so handsome to-night I love to look at you. Besides, I am in a current of ideas which har- An Old Maid. 341 monize with this poor little salon where we have suffered so much." "And where we shall still suffer, my poor Athanase, until your works succeed. For myself, I am trained to poverty; but you, my treasure! to see your youth go by without a joy! nothing but toil for my poor boy in life! That thought is like an illness to a mother; it tortures me at night; it wakes me in the morning. O God! what have I done? for what crime dost thou punish me thus? " She left her sofa, took a little chair, and sat close to Athanase, so as to lay her head on the bosom of her child. There is always the grace of love in true motherhood. Athanase kissed her on the e} T es, on her gray hair, on her forehead, with the sacred desire of laying his soul wherever he applied his lips. "I shall never succeed," he said, trying to deceive his mother as to the fatal resolution he was revolving in his mind. "Pooh! don't get discouraged. As you often say, thought can do all things. With ten bottles of ink, ten reams of paper, and his powerful will, Luther upset all Europe. Well, you '11 make yourself famous ; you*will do good things by the same means which he used to do evil things. Have n't you said so your- self ? For my part, I listen to you ; I understand you a great deal more than you think I do, — for I still bear you in my bosom, and your every thought still stirs me as your slightest motion did in other days." "I shall never succeed here, mamma; and I don't want you to witness the sight of my struggles, my misery, my anguish. Oh, mother, let me leave Alemjon! I want to suffer away from you." 342 An Old Maid. u And I wish to be at your side," replied his mother, proudly. "Suffer without your mother! — that poor mother who would be your servant if necessary; who will efface herself rather than injure you; your mother, who will never shame you. No, no, Athanase; we must not part." Athanase clung to his mother with the ardor of a dying man who clings to life. "But I wish it, nevertheless. If not, you will lose me; this double grief, yours and mine, is killing me. You would rather I lived than died ? " Madame Granson looked at her son with a hag- gard eye. "So this is what you have been brooding? " she said. "They told me right. Do you really mean to go? " "Yes." "You will not go without telling me; without warn- ing me? You must have an outfit and money. I have some louis sewn into my petticoat; I shall give them to you." Athanase wept. "That's all I wanted to tell you," he said. "Now I '11 take you to the du Roncerets'. Come." The mother and the son went out. Athanase left his mother at the door of the house where she intended to pass the evening. He looked long at the light which came through the shutters; he clung closely to the wall, and a frenzied joy came over him when he pres- ently heard his mother say, "He has great independ- ence of heart. "Poor mother! I have deceived her," he cried, as he made his way to the Sarthe. An Old Maid. 343 He reached the noble poplar beneath which he had meditated so much for the last forty days, and where he had placed two heavy stones on which he now sat down. He contemplated that beautiful nature lighted by the moon; he reviewed once more the glorious future he had longed for; he passed through towns that were stirred by his name ; he heard the applaud- ing crowds ; he breathed the incense of his fame ; he adored that life long dreamed of; radiant, he sprang to radiant triumphs; he raised his statue; he evoked his illusions to bid them farewell in a last Olympic feast. The magic had been potent for a moment; but now it vanished forever. In that awful hour he clung to the beautiful tree to which, as to a friend, he had attached himself; then he put the two stones into the pockets of his overcoat, which he buttoned across his breast. He had come intentionally without a hat. He now went to the deep pool he had long selected, and glided into it resolutely, trying to make as little noise as possible, and, in fact, making scarcely any. When, at half-past nine o'clock, Madame Granson returned home, her servant said nothing of Athanase, but gave her a letter. She opened it and read these few words, — "My good mother, I have departed; don't be angry with me." "A pretty trick he has played me!" she thought. "And his linen! and the money! Well, he will write to me, and then I '11 follow him. These poor children think they are so much cleverer than their fathers and mothers." And she went to bed in peace. 344 An Old Maid. During the preceding morning the Sarthe had risen to a height foreseen by the fisherman. These sudden rises of muddy water brought eels from their various runlets. It so happened that a fisherman had spread his net at the very place where poor Athanase had flung himself, believing that no one would ever find him. About six o'clock in the morning the man drew in his net, and with it the young body. The few friends of the poor mother took every precaution in preparing her to receive the dreadful remains. The news of this suicide made, as may well be supposed, a great excitement in Alencon. The poor young man of genius had no protector the night before, but on the morrow of his death a thousand voices cried aloud, "I would have helped him." It is so easy and con- venient to be charitable gratis! The suicide was explained by the Chevalier de Valois. He revealed, in a spirit of revenge, the art- less, sincere, and genuine love of Athanase for Made- moiselle Cormon. Madame Granson, enlightened by the chevalier, remembered a thousand little circum- stances which confirmed the chevalier's statement. The story then became touching, and many women wept over it. Madame Granson's grief was silent, concentrated, and little understood. There are two forms of mourning for mothers. Often the world can enter fully into the nature of their loss: their son, admired, appreciated, young, perhaps handsome, with a noble path before him, leading to fortune, possibly to fame, excites universal regret; society joins in the grief, and alleviates while'it magnifies it. But there is another sorrow of mothers who alone know what An Old Maid. 345 their child was really; who alone have received his smiles and observed the treasures of a life too soon cut short. That sorrow hides its woe, the blackness of which surpasses all other mourning; it cannot be , described; happily there are but few women whose heart-strings are thus severed. Before Madame du Bousquier returned to town, Madame du Ronceret, one of her good friends, had driven out to Prebaudet to fling this corpse upon the roses of her joy, to show her the love she had ignored, and sweetly shed a thousand drops of worm- wood into the honey of her bridal month. As Madame du Bousquier drove back to Alengon, she chanced to meet Madame Granson at the corner of the rue Val- Noble. The glance of the mother, dying of her grief, struck to the heart of the poor woman. A thousand maledictions, a thousand flaming reproaches, were in that look: Madame du Bousquier was horror-struck; that glance predicted and called down evil upon her head. The evening after the catastrophe, Madame Granson, one of the persons most opposed to the rector of the town, and who had hitherto supported the minister of Saint-Leonard, began to tremble as she thought of the inflexible Catholic doctrines professed by her own party. After placing her son's body in its shroud with her own hands, thinking of the mother of the Saviour, she went, with a soul convulsed by anguish, to the house of the hated rector. There she found the modest priest in an outer room, engaged in putting away the flax and yarns with which he supplied poor women, in order that they might never be wholly out 346 An Old Maid. of work, — a form of charity which saved many who were incapable of begging from actual penury. The rector left his yarns and hastened to take Madame Granson into his dining-room, where the wretched mother noticed, as she looked at his supper, the frugal method of his own living. "Monsieur l'abbe," she said, "I have come to im- plore you — " She burst into tears, unable to continue. "I know what brings you," replied the saintly man. "I must trust to you, madame, and to your relation, Madame du Bousquier, to pacify Monseigneur the bishop at Seez. Yes, I will pray for your unhappy child ; yes, I will say the masses. But we must avoid all scandal, and give no opportunity for evil-judging persons to assemble in the church. I alone, without other clergy, at night — " "Yes, yes, as you think best; if only he may lie in consecrated ground," said the poor mother, taking the priest's hand and kissing it. Toward midnight a coffin was clandestinely borne to the parish church by four young men, comrades whom, Athanase had liked the best. A few friends of Madame Granson, women dressed in black, and veiled, were present; and half a dozen other young men who had been somewhat intimate with this lost genius. Four torches flickered on the coffin, which was covered with crape. The rector, assisted by one discreet choir- boy, said the mortuary mass. Then the body of the suicide was noiselessly carried to a corner of the ceme- tery, where a black wooden cross, without inscription, was all that indicated its place hereafter to the mother. Athanase lived and died in shadow. No voice was An Old Maid. 347 raised to blame the rector; the bishop kept silence. The piety of the mother redeemed the impiety of the son's last act. Some months later, the poor woman, half beside herself with grief, and moved by one of those inexpli- cable thirsts which misery feels to steep its lips in the bitter chalice, determined to see the spot where her son was drowned. Her instinct may have told her that thoughts of his could be recovered beneath that poplar; perhaps, too, she desired to see what his eyes had seen for the last time. Some mothers would die of the sight; others give themselves up to it in saintly adoration. Patient anatomists of human nature cannot too often enunciate the truths before which all educations, laws, and philosophical systems must give way. Let us repeat continually : it is absurd to force sentiments into one formula: appearing as they do, in each individual man, they combine with the elements that form his nature and take his own physiognomy. Madame Granson, as she stood on that fatal spot, saw a woman approach it, who exclaimed, — "Was it here?" That woman wept as the mother wept. It was Suzanne. Arriving that morning at the hotel du More, she had been told of the catastrophe. If poor Athanase had been living, she meant to do as many noble souls, who are moneyless, dream of doing, and as the rich never think of doing, — she meant to have sent him several thousand francs, writing upon the envelope the words: "Money due to your father from a comrade who makes restitution to you." This 348 An Old Maid. tender scheme had been arranged by Suzanne during her journey. The courtesan caught sight of Madame Granson and moved rapidly away, whispering as she passed her, k 'I loved him!" Suzanne, faithful to her nature, did not leave Alen- con on this occasion without changing the orange- blossoms of the bride to rue. She was the first to declare that Madame du Bousquier would never be anything but Mademoiselle Corinon. With one stab of her tongue she revenged poor Athanase and her dear chevalier. Alencon now witnessed a suicide that was slower and quite differently pitiful from that of poor Atha- nase, who was quickly forgotten by society, which always makes haste to forget its dead. The poor Chevalier de Valois died in life; his suicide was a daily occurrence for fourteen years. Three months after the du Bousquier marriage society remarked, not with- out astonishment, that the linen of the chevalier was frayed and rusty, that his hair was irregularly combed and brushed. With a frowsy head the Chevalier de Valois could no longer be said to exist! A few of his ivory teeth deserted, though the keenest observers of human life were unable to discover to what body they had hitherto belonged, whether to a foreign legion or whether they were indigenous, vegetable or animal; whether age had pulled them from the chevalier's mouth, or whether they were left forgotten in the drawer of his dressing-table. The cravat was crooked, indifferent to elegance. The negroes' heads grew pale with dust and grease. The wrinkles of the face were An Old Maid. 349 blackened and puckered ; the skin became parchment. The nails, neglected, were often seen, alas! with a black velvet edging. The waistcoat was tracked and stained with droppings which spread upon its surface like autumn leaves. The cotton in the ears was sel- dom changed. Sadness reigned upon that brow, and slipped its yellowing tints into the depths of each furrow. In short, the ruins, hitherto so cleverly hidden, now showed through the cracks and crevices of that fine edifice, and proved the power of the soul over the body; for the fair and dainty man, the cavalier, the young blood, died when hope deserted him. Until then the nose of the chevalier was ever delicate and nice; never had a damp black blotch, nor an amber drop fallen from it ; but now that nose, smeared with tobacco around the nostrils, degraded by the driblets which took advantage of the natural gutter placed between itself and the upper lip, — that nose, which no longer cared to seem agreeable, revealed the infinite pains which the chevalier had formerly taken with his per- son, and made observers comprehend, by the extent of its degradation, the greatness and persistence of the man's designs upon Mademoiselle Cormon. Alas, too, the anecdotes went the way of the teeth ; the clever sayings grew rare. The appetite, however, remained; the old nobleman saved nothing but his stomach from the wreck of his hopes ; though he lan- guidly prepared his pinches of snuff, he ate alarming dinners. Perhaps you will more fully understand the disaster that this marriage was to the mind and heart of the chevalier when you learn that his intercourse with the Princess Goritza became less frequent. 350 An Old Maid. One day he appeared in Mademoiselle Armande's salon with the calf of his leg on the shin-bone. This bankruptcy of the graces was, I do assure you, terri- ble, and struck all Alencon with horror. The late young man had become an old one; this human being, who, by the breaking-down of his spirit, had passed at once from fifty to ninety years of age, frightened society. Besides, his secret was betrayed; he had waited and watched for Mademoiselle Cormon; he had, like a patient hunter, adjusted his aim for ten whole years, and finally had missed the game! In short, the impotent Republic had won the day from Valiant Chivalry, and that, too, under the Restoration! Form triumphed ; mind was vanquished by matter, diplomacy by insurrection. And, O final blow! a mortified grisette revealed the secret of the chevalier's mornings, and he now passed for a libertine. The liberals cast at his door all the foundlings hitherto attributed to du Bousquier. But the faubourg Saint- Germain of Alencon accepted them proudly: it even said, "That poor chevalier, what else could he do?" The faubourg pitied him, gathered him closer to their circle, and brought back a few rare smiles to his face; but frightful enmity was piled upon the head of du Bousquier. Eleven persons deserted the Cormon salon, and passed to that of the d'Esgrignons. The old maid's marriage had a signal effect in defining the two parties in Alencon. The salon d'Esgrignon represented the upper aristocracy (the returning Troisvilles attached themselves to it); the Cormon salon represented, under the clever influence of du Bousquier, that fatal class of opinions which, with- An Old Maid. 351 out being truly liberal or resolutely royalist, gave birth to the 221 on the famous day when the struggle openly began between the most august, grandest, and only true power, royalty, and the most false, most changeful, most oppressive of all powers, — the power called parliamentary, which elective assemblies exer- cise. The salon du Ronceret, secretly allied to the Cormon salon, was boldly liberal. The Abbe de Sponde, after his return from Pre- baudet, bore many and continual sufferings, which he kept within his breast, saying no word of them to his niece. But to Mademoiselle Armande he opened his heart, admitting that, folly for folly, he would much have preferred the Chevalier de Valois to Monsieur du Bousquier. Never would the dear chevalier have had the bad taste to contradict and oppose a poor old man who had but a few days more to live ; du Bousquier had destroyed everything in the good old home. The abbe said, with scanty tears moistening his aged eyes, — "Mademoiselle, I have n't even the little grove where I have walked for fifty years. My beloved lindens are all cut down! At the moment of my death the Republic appears to me more than ever under the form of a horrible destruction of the Home." "You must pardon your niece," said the Chevalier de Valois. "Republican ideas are the first error of youth which seeks for liberty; later it finds it the worst of despotisms, — that of an impotent canaille. Your poor niece is punished where she sinned." "What will become of me in a house where naked women are painted on the walls ? " said the poor abbe. 352 An Old Maid. "Where shall I find other lindens beneath which to read my breviary? " Like Kant, who was unable to collect his thoughts after the fir-tree at which he was accustomed to gaze while meditating was cut down, so the poor abbe could never attaiu the ardor of his former prayers while walking up and down the shadeless paths. Du Bousquier had planted an English garden. "It was best," said Madame du Bousquier, without thinking so; but the Abbe Couturier had authorized her to commit many wrongs to please her husband. These restorations destroyed all the venerable dig- nity, cordiality, and patriarchal air of the old house. Like the Chevalier de Valois, whose personal neglect might be called an abdication, the bourgeois dignity of the Cormon salon existed no longer when it was turned to white and gold, with mahogany ottomans covered in blue satin. The dining-room, adorned in modern taste, was colder in tone than it used to be, and the dinners were eaten with less appetite than formerly. Monsieur du Coudrai declared that he felt his puns stick in his throat as he glanced at the figures painted on the walls, which looked him out of counte- nance. External^, the house was still provincial; but internally everything revealed the purveyor of the Directory and the bad taste of the money-changer, — for instance, columns in stucco, glass doors, Greek mouldings, meaningless outlines, all styles conglom- erated, magnificence oat of place and out of season. The town of Alenqon gabbled for two weeks over this luxury, which seemed unparalleled; but a few months later the community was proud of it, and sev- An Old Maid. 353 eral rich manufacturers restored their houses and set up fine salons. Modern furniture came into the town, and astral lamps were seen! The Abbe de Sponde was among the first to perceive the secret un happiness this marriage now brought to the private life of his beloved niece. The character of noble simplicity which had hitherto ruled their lives was lost during the first winter, when du Bousquier gave two balls every month. Oh, to hear violins and profane music at these worldly entertainments in the sacred old house! The abbe prayed on his knees while the revels lasted. Next the political system of the sober salon was slowly perverted. The abbe fathomed du Bousquier; he shuddered at his imperi- ous tone; he saw the tears in his niece's eyes when she felt herself losing all control over her own prop- erty; for her husband now left nothing in her hands but the management of the linen, the table, and things of a kind which are the lot of women. Rose had no longer any orders to give. Monsieur's will was alone regarded by Jacquelin, now become coachman, by Rene, the groom, and by the chef, who came from Paris, Mariette being reduced to kitchen maid. Madame du Bousquier had no one to rule but Josette. Who knows what it costs to relinquish the delights of power? If the triumph of the will is one of the intoxicating pleasures in the lives of great men, it is the all of life to narrow minds. One must needs have been a minis- ter dismissed from power to comprehend the bitter pain which came upon Madame du Bousquier when she found herself reduced to this absolute servitude. She often got into the carriage against her will ; she saw 23 354 An Old Maid. herself surrounded by servants who were distasteful to her; she no longer had the handling of her dear money, — she who had known herself free to spend money, and did not spend it. All imposed limits make the human being desire to go beyond them. The keenest sufferings come from the thwarting of self-will. The beginning of this state of things was, however, rose-colored. Every concession made to marital authority was an effect of the love which the poor woman felt for her husband. Du Bousquier behaved, in the first instance, admirably to his wife: he was wise; he was excellent; he gave her the best of reasons for each new encroachment. So for the first two years of her marriage Madame du Bousquier appeared to be satisfied. She had that deliberate, demure little air which distinguishes youug women who have married for love. The rush of blood to her head no longer tormented her. This appear- ance of satisfaction routed the scoffers, contradicted certain rumors about du Bousquier, and puzzled all observers of the human heart. Rose -Marie- Victoire was so afraid that if she displeased her husband or opposed him, she would lose his affection and be de- prived of his company, that she would willing!} 7 have sacrificed all to him, even her uncle. Her silly little forms of pleasure deceived even the poor abbe for a time, who endured his own trials all the better for thinking that his niece was happy, after all. Alencon at first thought the same. But there was one man more difficult to deceive than the whole town put together. The Chevalier de Valois, who had taken refuge on the Sacred Mount of the upper aristocracy, An Old Maid. 355 now passed his life at the d'Esgrignons. He listened to the gossip and the gabble, and he thought day and night upon his vengeance. He meant to strike du Bousquier to the heart. The poor abbe fully understood the baseness of this first and last love of his niece; he shuddered as, little by little, he perceived the hypocritical nature of his nephew and his treacherous manoeuvres. Though du Bousquier restrained himself, as he thought of the abbe's property, and wished not to cause him vexa- tion, it was his hand that dealt the blow that sent the old priest to his grave. If you will interpret the word intolerance as firmness of principle, if } t ou do not wish to condemn in the catholic soul of the Abbe de Sponde the stoicism which Walter Scott has made you admire in the puritan soul of Jeanie Deans' father; if you are willing to recognize in the Roman Church the Potius mori quam fcedari which you admire in repub- lican tenets, — you will understand the sorrow of the Abbe de Sponde when he saw in his niece's salon the apostate priest, the renegade, the pervert, the heretic, that enemy of the Church, the guilty taker of the Constitutional oath. Du Bousquier, whose secret ambition was to lay down the law to the town, wished, as a first proof of his power, to reconcile the minister of Saint-Leonard with the rector of the parish, and he succeeded. His wife thought he had accomplished a work of peace where the immovable abbe saw only treachery. The bishop came to visit du Bousquier, and seemed glad of the cessation of hostilities. The virtues of the Abbe Franqois had conquered prejudice, except that of the aged Roman Catholic, who exclaimed 356 An Old Maid. with Corneille, "Alas! what virtues do you make me hate ! " The abbe died when orthodoxy thus expired in the diocese. In 1819, the property of the Abbe de Sponde in- creased Madame du Bousquier's income from real estate to twenty-five thousand francs without counting Prebaudet or the house in the Val-Noble. About this time du Bousquier returned to his wife the capital of her savings which she had yielded to him; and he made her use it in purchasing lands contiguous to Prebaudet, which made that domain one of the most considerable in the department, for the estates of the Abbe de Sponde also adjoined it. Du Bousquier thus passed for one of the richest men of the department. This able man, the constant candidate of the liberals, missing by seven or eight votes only in all the electoral battles fought under the Restoration, and who osten- sibly repudiated the liberals by trying to be elected as a ministerial royalist (without ever being able to conquer the aversion of the administration), — this rancorous republican, mad with ambition, resolved to rival the royalism and aristocracy of Alencon at the moment when they once more had the upper hand. He strengthened himself with the Church by the deceit- ful appearance of a well-feigned piety: he accom- panied his wife to mass ; he gave money for the con- vents of the town ; he assisted the congregation of the Sacre-Coeur; he took sides with the clergy on all occasions when the clergy came into collision with the town, the department, or the State. Secretly sup- ported by the liberals, protected by the Church, call- An Old Maid. 357 ing himself a constitutional royalist, he kept beside the aristocracy of the department in the one hope of ruining it, — and he did ruin it. Ever on the watch for the faults and blunders of the nobility and the government, he laid plans for his vengeance against the "chateau-people," and especially against the d'Esgrignons, in whose bosom he was one day to thrust a poisoned dagger. Among other benefits to the town he gave money liberally to revive the manufacture of point d'Alengon ; he renewed the trade in linens, and the town had a factory. Inscribing himself thus upon the interests and heart of the masses, b}' doing what the royalists did not do, du Bousquier did not really risk a farthing. Backed by his fortune, he could afford to wait results which enterprising persons who involve themselves are forced to abandon to luckier successors. Du Bousquier now posed as a banker. This minia- ture Laffitte was a partner in all new enterprises, taking good security. He served himself while appar- ently serving the interests of the community. He was the prime mover of insurance companies, the protector of new enterprises for public conveyance; he sug- gested petitions asking the administration for the necessary roads and bridges. Thus warned, the government considered this action an encroachment on its own authority. A struggle was begun injudi- ciously, for the good of the community compelled the authorities to yield in the end. Du Bousquier embit- tered the provincial nobility against the court nobility and the peerage; and finally he brought about the shocking adhesion of a strong party of constitutional 358 An Old Maid. royalists to the warfare sustained by the "Journal des Debats," and M. de Chateaubriand against the throne, — an ungrateful opposition based on ignoble interests, which was one cause of the triumph of the bourgeoisie and journalism in 1830. Thus du Bousquier, in common with the class he represented, had the satisfaction of beholding the funeral of royalty. The old republican, smothered with masses, who for fifteen years had played that comedy to satisfy his vendetta, himself threw down with his own hand the white flag of the mayoralty to the applause of the multitude. No man in France cast upon the new throne raised in August, 1830, a glance of more intoxicated, joyous vengeance. The accession of the Younger Branch was the triumph of the Revolution. To him the victory of the tricolor meant the resurrection of the Montague, which this time should surely bring the nobility 7 down to the dust by means more certain than that of the guillotine, because less violent. The peerage without heredity ; the National Guard, which puts on the same camp-bed the corner grocer and the marquis; the abolition of entails demanded by a bourgeois lawyer; the Catholic Church deprived of its supremacy; and all the other legislative inventions of August, 1830, — were to du Bousquier the wisest possible application of the prin- ciples of 1793. Since 1830 this man has been a receiver-general. He relied for his advancement on his relations with the Due cV Orleans, father of Louis Philippe, and with Monsieur de Folmon, formerly steward to the Duchess- dowager of Orleans. He receives about eighty thou- An Old Maid. ' 359 sand francs a year. In the eyes of the people about him Monsieur clu Bousquier is a man of means, — a respectable man, steady in his principles, upright, and obliging. Alenqon owes to him its connection with the industrial movement by which Brittany may pos- sibly some day be joined to what is popularly called modern civilization. Alencon, which up to 1816 could boast of only two private carriages, saw, without amazement, in the course of ten 3 T ears, coupes, landaus, tilburies, and cabriolets rolling through her streets. The burghers and the land-owners, alarmed at first lest the price of everything should increase, recog- nized later that this increase in the style of living had a contrary effect upon their revenues. The prophetic remark of du Ronceret, "Du Bousquier is a very strong man," was adopted by the whole country-side. But, unhappily for the wife, that saying has a double meaning. The husband does not in any way resem- ble the public politician. This great citizen, so liberal to the world about him, so kindly inspired with love for his native place, is a despot in his own house, and utterly devoid of conjugal affection. This man, so profoundly astute, hypocritical, and sly; this Cromwell of the Val-Noble, — behaves in his home as he behaves to the aristocracy, whom he caresses in hopes to throttle them. Like his friend Bernadotte, he wears a velvet glove upon his iron hand. His wife has given him no children. Suzanne's remark and the chevalier's insinuations were therefore justified. But the liberal bourgeoisie, the constitutional-royalist- bourgeoisie, the country squires, the magistracy, and the "church party" laid the blame on Madame du 360 An Old Maid. Bousquier. "She was too old," they said; "Monsieur du Bousquier had married her too late. Besides, it was very lucky for the poor woman ; it was dangerous at her age to bear children!" When Madame du Bousquier confided, weeping, her periodic despair to Mesdames du Coudrai and du Roneeret, those ladies would reply, — "But you are crazy, my dear; you don't know what you are wishing for; a child would be your death." Many men, whose hopes were fastened on du Bous- quier's triumph, sang his praises to their wives, who in turn repeated them to the poor wife in some such speech as this : — "You are very lucky, dear, to have married such an able man ; you '11 escape the misery of women whose husbands are men without energ} 7 , incapable of man- aging their property, or bringing up their children." "Your husband is making you queen of the depart- ment, my love. He '11 never leave you embarrassed, not he! Why, he leads all Alencon." "But I wish," said the poor wife, "that he gave less time to the public and — " "You are hard to please, my dear Madame du Bous- quier. I assure you that all the women in town envy you your husband." Misjudged by society, wiiich began by blaming her, the pious woman found ample opportunity in her home to display her virtues. She lived in tears, but she never ceased to present to others a placid face. To so Christian a soul a certain thought which pecked forever at her heart was a crime: "I loved the Cheva- lier de Valois," it said; "but I have married du Bous- An Old Maid. 361 quier." The love of poor Athanase Granson also rose like a phantom of remorse, and pursued her even iu her dreams. The death of her uncle, whose griefs at the last burst forth, made her life still more sor- rowful; for she now felt the suffering her uncle must have endured in witnessing the change of political and religious opinion in the old house. Sorrow often falls like a thunderbolt, as it did on Madame Granson ; but in this old maid it slowly spread like a drop of oil, which never leaves the stuff that slowly imbibes it. The Chevalier de Valois was the malicious manipu- lator who brought about the crowning misfortune of Madame du Bousquier's life. His heart was set on undeceiving her pious simplicity; for the chevalier, expert in love, divined du Bousquier, the married man, as he had divined du Bousquier, the bachelor. But the wary republican was difficult of attack. His salon was, of course, closed to the Chevalier de Valois, as to all those who, in the early days of his marriage, had slighted the Cormon mansion. He was, moreover, impervious to ridicule: he possessed a vast fortune; he reigned in Alencon ; he cared as little for his wife as Richard III. cared for the dead horse which had helped him to win a battle. To please her husband, Madame du Bousquier had broken off relations with the d'Esgrignon household, where she went no longer, except that sometimes when her husband left her during his trips to Paris, she would pay a brief visit to Mademoiselle Armande. About three years after her marriage, at the time of the Abbe de Sponde's death, Mademoiselle Armande joined Madame du Bousquier as they were leaving 362 An Old Maid. Saint-Leonard's, where tbey bad gone to bear a re- quiem said for him. The generous demoiselle thought that on this occasion she owed her sympathy to the niece in trouble. They walked together, talking of the dear deceased, until they reached the forbidden bouse, into which Mademoiselle Armande enticed Madame du Bousquier by the charm of her manner and conversation. The poor desolate woman was glad to talk of her uncle with one whom be truly loved. Moreover, she wanted to receive the condolences of the old marquis, whom she had not seen for nearly three years. It was half-past one o'clock, and she found at the hotel d'Esgrignon the Chevalier de Valois, who bad come to dinner. As be bowed to her, be took her by the bands. "Well, dear, virtuous, and beloved lady," he said, in a tone of emotion, "we have lost our sainted friend; we share your grief. Yes, your loss is as keenly felt here as in your own home, — more so," he added, alluding to du Bousquier. After a few more words of funeral oration, in which all present spoke from the heart, the chevalier took Madame du Bousquier' s arm, and, gallantly placing it within his own, pressed it adoringly as be led her to the recess of a window. "Are you happy? " be said in a fatherly voice. "Yes," she said, dropping her eyes. Hearing that "Yes," Madame de Troisville, the daughter of the Princess Scherbellof, and the old Marquise de Casteran came up and joined the cheva- lier, together with Mademoiselle Armande. They all went to walk in the garden until dinner was served, An Old Maid. 363 without any perception on the part of Madame du Bousquier that a little conspiracy was afoot. "We have her! now let us find out the secret of the case," were the words written in the eyes of all present. "To make your happiness complete," said Made- moiselle Armande, "you ought to have children, — a fine lad like my nephew — " Tears seemed to start in Madame du Bousquier's eyes. "I have heard it said that you were the one to blame in the matter, and that you feared the dangers of a pregnancy," said the chevalier. "I!" she said artlessly. "I would buy a child with a hundred years of purgatory if I could." On the question thus started a discussion arose, conducted by Madame de Troisville and the old Mar- quise de Casteran with such delicacy and adroitness that the poor victim revealed, without being aware of it, the secrets of her home. Mademoiselle Armande had taken the chevalier's arm, and walked away so as to leave the three women free to discuss wedlock. Madame du Bousquier was then enlightened on the various deceptions of her marriage; and as she was still the same simpleton she had always been, she amused her advisers by delightful naivetes. Although at first the deceptive marriage of Made- moiselle Cormon made a laugh throughout the town, which was soon initiated into the story of the case, before long Madame du Bousquier won the esteem and sympathy of all the women. The fact that Made- moiselle Cormon had flung herself headlong into mar- riage without succeeding in being married, made 364 An Old Maid. everybody laugh at her; but when they learned the exceptional position in which the sternness of her religious principles placed her, all the world admired her. "That poor Madame du Bousquier " took the place of " That good Mademoiselle Cormon." Thus the chevalier contrived to render du Bousquier both ridiculous and odious for a time; but ridicule ends by weakening ; when all had said their say about him, the gossip died out. Besides, at fifty-seven years of age the dumb republican seemed to many people to have a right to retire. This affair, however, envenomed the hatred which du Bousquier already bore to the house of Esgrignon to such a degree that it made him pitiless when the day of vengeance came. [See "The Gallery of Antiquities."] Madame du Bousquier received orders never again to put her foot into that house. By way of reprisals upon the chevalier for the trick thus played him, du Bousquier, who had just created the journal called the "Courrier de l'Orne," caused the following notice to be inserted in it: — " Bonds to the amount of one thousand francs a year will be paid to any person who can prove the existence of one Monsieur de Pombreton before, during, or after the Emi- gration." Although her marriage was essentially negative, Madame du Bousquier saw some advantages in it: was it not better to interest herself in the most remark- able man in the town than to live alone ? Du Bous- quier was preferable to a dog, or cat, or those canaries that spinsters adore. He showed for his wife a senti- ment more real and less selfish than that which is felt An Old Maid. 365 by servants, confessors, and hopeful heirs. Later in life she came to consider her husband as the instru- ment of divine wrath; for she then saw innumerable sins in her former desires for marriage; she regarded herself as justly punished for the sorrow she had brought on Madame Granson, and for the hastened death of her uncle. Obedient to that religion which commands us to kiss the rod with which the pun- ishment is inflicted, she praised her husband, and publicly approved him. But in the confessional, or at night, when praying, she wept often, imploring God's forgiveness for the apostasy of the man who thought the contrary of what he professed, and who desired the destruction of the aristocracy and the Church, — the two religions of the house of Cormon. With all her feelings bruised and immolated within her, compelled by duty to make her husband happy, attached to him by a certain indefinable affection, born, perhaps, of habit, her life became one perpetual con- tradiction. She had married a man whose conduct and opinions she hated, but whom she was bound to care for with dutiful tenderness. Often she walked with the angels when du Bousquier ate her preserves or thought the dinner good. She watched to see that his slightest wish was satisfied. If he tore off the cover of his newspaper and left it on a table, instead of throwing it away, she would say, — "Rene, leave that where it is; monsieur did not place it there without intention." If du Bousquier had a journey to take, she was anx- ious about his trunk, his linen; she took the most minute precautions for his material benefit. If he went 366 An Old Maid. to Prebaudet, she consulted the barometer the evening before to know if the weather would be fine. She watched for his will in his eyes, like a dog which hears and sees its master while sleeping. When the stout du Bousquier, touched by this scrupulous love, would take her round the waist and kiss her forehead, saying, "What a good woman you are!" tears of pleasure would come into the eyes of the poor creature. It is probable that du Bousquier felt himself obliged to make certain concessions which obtained for him the respect of Rose-Marie- Victoire ; for Catholic virtue does not require a dissimulation as complete as that of Madame du Bousquier. Often the good saint sat mutely by and listened to the hatred of men who con- cealed themseh T es under the cloak of constitutional royalists. She shuddered as she foresaw the ruin of the Church. Occasionally she risked a stupid word, an observation which du Bousquier cut short with a glance. The worries of such an existence ended by stupefy- ing Madame du Bousquier, who found it easier and, also more dignified to concentrate her intelligence on her own thoughts and resign herself to lead a life that was purely animal. She then adopted the submission of a slave, and regarded it as a meritorious deed to accept the degradation in which her husband placed her. The fulfilment of his will never once caused her to murmur. The timid sheep went henceforth in the way the shepherd led her; she gave herself up to the severest religious practices, and thought uo more of Satan and his works and vanities. Thus she pre- sented to the eyes of the world a union of all Chris- An Old Maid. 367 tian virtues ; and clu Bousquier was certainly one of the luckiest men in the kingdom of France and of Navarre. "She will be a simpleton to her last breath," said the former collector, who, however, dined with her twice a week. This history would be strangely incomplete if no mention were made of the coincidence of the Chevalier de Valois' death occurring at the same time as that of Suzanne's mother. The chevalier died with the mon- archy, in August, 1830. He had joined the cortege of Charles X. at Nonancourt, and piously escorted it to Cherbourg with the Troisvilles, Casterans, d'Esgri- gnons, Verneuils, etc. The old gentleman had taken with him fifty thousand francs, — the sum to which his savings then amounted. He offered them to one of the faithful friends of the king for transmission to his master, speaking of his approaching death, and declaring that the money came originally from the goodness of the king, and, moreover, that the property of the last of the Valois belonged of right to the crown. It is not known whether the fervor of his zeal con- quered the reluctance of the Bourbon, who abandoned his fine kingdom of France without carrying away with him a farthing, and who ought to have been touched by the devotion of the chevalier. It is certain, how- ever, that Cesarine, the residuary legatee of the old man, received from his estate only six hundred francs a year. The chevalier returned to Alen^on, cruelly weakened by grief and by fatigue ; he died on the very day when Charles X. arrived on a foreign shore. Madame du Val-Noble and her protector, who was 368 An Old Maid. just then afraid of the vengeance of the liberal party, were glad of a pretext to remain incognito in the vil- lage where Suzanne's mother died. At the sale of the chevalier's effects, which took place at that time, Suzanne, anxious to obtain a souvenir of her first and last friend, pushed up the price of the famous snuff- box, which was finally knocked down to her for a thousand francs. The portrait of the Princess Goritza was alone worth that sum. Two years later, a young dandy, who was making a collection of the fine snuff-boxes of the last century, obtained from Madame du Val -Noble the chevalier's treasure. The charming confidant of many a love and the pleasure of an old age is now on exhibition in a species of pri- vate museum. If the dead could know what happens after them, the chevalier's head would surely blush upon its left cheek. If this history has no other effect than to inspire the possessors of precious relics with holy fear, and induce them to make codicils to secure these touching sou- venirs of joys that are no more by bequeathing them to loving hands, it will have done an immense service to the chivalrous and romantic portion of the community; but it does, in truth, contain a far higher moral. Does it not show the necessity for a new species of edu- cation? Does it not invoke, from the enlightened solicitude of the ministers of Public Instruction, the creation of chairs of anthropology, — a science in which Germany outstrips us? Modern myths are even less understood than ancient ones, harried as we are with myths. Myths are pressing us from every point ; they serve all theories, they explain all questions. They An Old Maid. 369 are, according to human ideas, the torches of history; they would save empires from revolution if only the professors of history would force the explanations they give into the mind of the provincial masses. If Mademoiselle Cormon had been a reader or a student, and if there had existed in the department of the Orne a professor of anthropology, or even had she read Ariosto, the frightful disasters of her conjugal life would never have occurred. She would probably have known why the Italian poet makes Angelica prefer Medoro, who was a blond Chevalier de Valois, to Orlando, whose mare was dead, and who knew no better than to fly into a passion. Is not Medoro the mythic form for all courtiers of feminine royalty, and Orlando the myth of disorderly, furious, and impotent revolutions, which destroy but cannot produce? We publish, but without assuming any responsibility for it, this opinion of a pupil of Monsieur Ballanche. No information has reached us as to the fate of the negroes' heads in diamonds. You may see Madame du Val-Noble every evening at the Opera. Thanks to the education given her by the Chevalier de Valois, she has almost the air of a well-bred woman. Madame du Bousquier still lives; is not that as much as to say she still suffers? After reaching the age of sixty — the period at which women allow them- selves to make confessions — she said confidentially to Madame du Coudrai, that she had never been able to endure the idea of dying an old maid. THE END. Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 25al$ac in