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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Luxury-Gluttony, by Eugene Sue
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Luxury-Gluttony:
+       two of the seven cardinal sins
+
+Author: Eugene Sue
+
+Illustrator: Adrian Marcel
+
+Release Date: November 13, 2010 [EBook #34305]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LUXURY-GLUTTONY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS
+
+LUXURY
+
+[Illustration: "'_There he is._'"
+
+Original etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+Luxury--Gluttony. Two of the Seven
+Cardinal Sins. _ILLUSTRATED WITH
+ETCHINGS BY ADRIAN MARCEL.
+
+BY EUGENE SUE
+
+BOSTON
+FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.
+PUBLISHERS_
+
+Edition de Luxe
+
+_This edition is limited to one thousand copies, of which this is_
+
+No. 505
+
+_Copyright, 1899_
+BY FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                          PAGE
+
+"'THERE HE IS'"                  _Frontispiece_
+
+"'MONSEIGNEUR, LISTEN TO ME'"              125
+
+"'IT IS NO'"                               158
+
+"'YOU SHALL NOT ESCAPE ME'"                242
+
+"THE MOST DELICATE GAME WAS SUSPENDED"     324
+
+
+Luxury and Gluttony
+
+
+
+
+MADELEINE
+
+
+
+
+LUXURY.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The palace of the Elysee-Bourbon,--the old hotel of the Marquise de
+Pompadour,--situated in the middle of the Faubourg St. Honore, was,
+previous to the last revolution, furnished, as every one knows, for the
+occupancy of foreign royal highnesses,--Roman Catholic, Protestant, or
+Mussulman, from the princes of the German confederation to Ibrahim
+Pacha.
+
+About the end of the month of July, in a year long past, at eleven
+o'clock in the morning, several young secretaries and gentlemen
+belonging to the retinue of his Royal Highness, the Archduke Leopold
+Maximilian, who had occupied the Elysee for six weeks, met in one of the
+official parlours of the palace.
+
+"The review on the Field of Mars in honour of his Royal Highness is
+prolonged," remarked one of the company. "The audience of the prince
+will be crowded this morning."
+
+"The fact is," replied another, "five or six persons have already been
+waiting a half-hour, and monseigneur, in his rigorous military
+punctuality, will regret this enforced delay."
+
+Then one of the doors opened; a young man not more than twenty years old
+at most, a guest of the house, crossed the parlour, and entered an
+adjoining chamber, after having saluted, with mingled kindness and
+embarrassment, the speakers, who rose upon seeing him, thus testifying a
+deference which seemed unwarranted by his age and position.
+
+When he had disappeared, one of the gentlemen, alluding to him, said:
+
+"Poor Count Frantz, always so timid! A young girl of fifteen, just out
+of the convent, would have more assurance! To look at him, who would
+believe him capable of such rare bravery, and that, too, for three years
+in the Caucasus war? And that he came so valiantly and brilliantly out
+of that duel forced on him in Vienna? I, gentlemen, picture to myself
+Count Frantz modestly dropping his eyes as he gave the Circassians a
+thrust of his sword."
+
+"Besides, I believe that his Royal Highness makes a decided convenience
+of the ingenuousness of his son--"
+
+"The devil! No indiscretion, dear sir!"
+
+"Let me finish, please. I say that monseigneur makes a convenience of
+the unconquerable ingenuousness of his godson."
+
+"Well and good. And I think with you that the prince does not see this
+handsome boy exposed to the temptations of wicked Paris, without some
+anxiety. But what are you smiling at, my dear sir?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Do you think that Count Frantz has had some love affair, in spite of
+his apparent innocence?"
+
+"You can see after a little, gentlemen, all the fine things a smile may
+mean, for I call you to witness I am satisfied with smiling."
+
+"Seriously, my dear sir, what do you think of Count Frantz?"
+
+"I think nothing, I say nothing, I shall be as mute as a diplomatist
+whose interest it is to keep silent, or as a young officer of the noble
+guards when he passes, for the first time, under the inspection of
+monseigneur."
+
+"The truth is, the prince has a glance which intimidates the boldest.
+But to return to Count Frantz."
+
+This conversation was interrupted by a number of persons who entered the
+official chamber.
+
+The newcomers banished the thought of Count Frantz, and two or three
+voices asked at once:
+
+"Well, what about your sightseeing? Is this famous manufactory in the
+Faubourg St. Marceau worth the trouble of a visit?"
+
+"For my part, gentlemen, I am always very curious about the construction
+of machinery," replied one who had just entered. "The whole morning has
+been interesting, and I declare M. Charles Dutertre, the proprietor of
+this factory, one of the most accomplished and intelligent machinists
+that I know, besides being a most agreeable man; I intend to persuade
+monseigneur to visit his workshops."
+
+"Well and good, my dear sir; we will not accuse you of wasting your time
+in frivolities, but I have not such high pretensions, and my pretension
+is only in a state of hope."
+
+"And what hope?"
+
+"To be invited to dine with the celebrated Doctor Gasterini."
+
+"The most illustrious, the most profound gourmand of Europe."
+
+"They say, really, that his table is an ideal of the paradise of
+gourmands."
+
+"I do not know, alas! if this paradise will be as open to me as the
+other, but I hope so."
+
+"I confess my weakness. Of all that I have seen in Paris, what has most
+charmed me, fascinated me, dazzled me, I will even say instructed--"
+
+"Well, is what?"
+
+"It is--our proud and modest Germany will blush at the blasphemy--it
+is--"
+
+"Do finish!"
+
+"It is the Mabille ball!"
+
+The laughter and the exclamations provoked by this frank avowal lasted
+until one of the secretaries of the archduke entered, holding two
+letters in his hand, and saying, gaily:
+
+"Gentlemen, fresh news from Bologna and Venice!"
+
+"Bravo, my dear Ulrik, what news?"
+
+"The most curious, the most extraordinary in the world!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Quick, tell us, dear Ulrik."
+
+"In the first place, Bologna, and Venice afterward, have been for
+several days in a state of incredible agitation, for reason of a series
+of events not less incredible."
+
+"A revolution?"
+
+"A movement of young Italy?"
+
+"Perhaps a new mandate from the papal defender?"
+
+"No, gentleman, it concerns a woman."
+
+"A woman?"
+
+"Yes, if it is not the devil, which I am inclined to believe."
+
+"Ulrik, you are putting us to entreaty, do explain."
+
+"Do you remember, gentlemen, last year, having heard in Germany that
+young Mexican widow, the Marquise de Miranda, spoken of?"
+
+"Zounds! the one whom our poet, Moser-Hartmann, wrote of in such
+magnificent and passionate verse, under the name of the modern
+Aphrodite."
+
+"Ah, ah, ah, what a charming mistake!" said one of the inquirers,
+roaring with laughter. "Moser-Hartmann, the religious and soulful poet,
+the chaste poet, pure and cold as the immaculate snow, sings Aphrodite,
+in burning verses. I have heard those admirable verses repeated, but,
+evidently, they are the production of another Hartmann."
+
+"And I assure you, my dear sir, and Ulrik will confirm it, that this
+poem, which they say rightfully ranks with the most beautiful odes of
+Sappho, is truly the work of Moser-Hartmann."
+
+"Nothing more true," replied Ulrik. "I heard Moser-Hartmann recite the
+verses himself,--they are worthy of antiquity."
+
+"Then I believe you, but how do you explain this sudden incomprehensible
+transformation?"
+
+"Ah, my God! This transformation which has changed a cold, correct man,
+but a man of estimable talent, indeed, a man of genius, full of fire and
+power, whose name is renowned through Europe--this transformation has
+been wrought by the woman whom the poet has praised, by the Marquise de
+Miranda."
+
+"Moser-Hartmann so changed? I would have thought the thing impossible!"
+
+"Bah!" replied Ulrik, "the marquise has done several things, and here is
+one of her best tricks, written to me from Bologna. There was there a
+cardinal legate of the Pope, the terror and aversion of the country."
+
+"His name is Orsini, a man as detestable as he is detested."
+
+"And his exterior reveals his nature. I saw him in Lombardy. What a
+cadaverous, sinister face! He always seemed to me the very type of an
+inquisitor."
+
+"Well, the marquise took him to a ball at the Casino in Bologna,
+disguised as a Hungarian hussar!"
+
+"The cardinal legate as a Hungarian hussar!" cried the company, in one
+voice.
+
+"Come, Ulrik, you are telling an idle tale."
+
+"You can read this letter, and when you see who signs it you will doubt
+no longer, skeptical as you are," replied Ulrik. "Yes, the marquise made
+Orsini accompany her so disguised; then, in the midst of the dance, she
+tore his mask from his face and said, in a loud voice: 'Good evening,
+Cardinal Orsini,' and, laughing like a crazy woman, she disappeared,
+leaving the legate exposed to the hoots and hisses of the exasperated
+crowd. He would have run some danger if his escort had not protected
+him. The next day Bologna was in a stir, demanding the dismissal of
+Orsini, who, after two days of excitement, was forced to leave the city
+by night. In the evening every house was illuminated for joy, and my
+correspondent says the monogram of the marquise was seen on many
+transparencies."
+
+"And what became of her?"
+
+"She was not seen again, she left for Venice," replied Ulrik, showing a
+second letter, "and there, they write me, another thing has happened."
+
+"What a woman! What a woman!"
+
+"What sort of a woman is she?"
+
+"Have you seen her?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor I."
+
+"Nor I."
+
+"They say she is very tall and very slender."
+
+"They told me she was above the ordinary height."
+
+"One thing is sure, she is a brunette, because Moser-Hartmann praises
+her black eyes and black eyebrows."
+
+"All I can say is," replied Ulrik, "that in this letter from Venice,
+which place the marquise has recently left for France, as I am informed,
+she is poetically called the 'blonde star,' so I think she must be a
+blonde."
+
+"But what has she done in Venice? What has happened there?"
+
+"My faith!" exclaimed Ulrik, "it is an adventure which smacks of the
+manners of pagan antiquity and the middle ages of Italy at the same
+time."
+
+Unfortunately for the curiosity of Ulrik's auditors, the sudden beating
+of a drum outside announced the return of the Archduke Leopold, and each
+person in the house of the prince at once went to his post, ready to
+receive the Royal Highness.
+
+In fact, the sentinel of the Elysee, descrying the approach of several
+carriages in the livery of the King of the French, had called "To
+arms!" The soldiers on guard with their commanding officer were
+immediately in line, and at the moment the carriages entered
+successively the immense court of the Elysee, the drums beat and the
+troops presented arms.
+
+The first of the carriages stopped before the palace; the footmen in
+bright red livery opened the door, and his Royal Highness, the Archduke
+Maximilian Leopold, slowly ascended the steps, conversing with a
+colonel, officer of ordinance, whose office it was to accompany him; a
+few steps behind the prince came his aids-de-camp, dressed in brilliant
+foreign uniforms, and took their places in order at the foot of the
+steps by the royal carriages. The archduke, thirty-nine years old, was
+robust, yet slenderly proportioned. He wore with military severity the
+full-dress uniform of the field-marshal, white coat, with epaulettes of
+gold; scarlet casimir breeches over which reached the shining black of
+his high riding-boots, a little dusty, as he had assisted in the review
+appointed in his honour. The great cordon red, the collar of the fleece
+of gold, and five or six medallions of different orders ornamented his
+breast; his hair was pale blond, as was his long moustache turned up in
+military style, which gave a still more severe expression to his
+features, and strongly augmented the breadth of his chin and the
+prominent angle of his nose; his eye, cold and penetrating, half-covered
+by the eyelid, was set under a very heavy eyebrow, which gave him the
+air of always looking very high. This severe and disdainful glance,
+united to an imperious manner and an inflexible carriage of the head,
+gave to the whole personal bearing of the archduke a remarkable
+character of arrogant, icy authority.
+
+About a quarter of an hour after the prince had returned to the Elysee,
+the carriage of a French minister, and that of an ambassador from a
+great power in the North, stopped successively before the entrance, and
+the statesman and the diplomatist entered the palace.
+
+Almost at the same moment, one of the principal persons of this story
+arrived on foot in the court of the Elysee-Bourbon.
+
+M. Pascal, for such was our hero's name, appeared to be about thirty-six
+years old. He was of middle stature, very dark, and wore quite a long
+beard, as rough and black as his eyebrows, beneath which glittered two
+little very piercing gray eyes. As he had the habit of holding his head
+down, and his two hands in the pockets of his trousers, the attitude
+served to increase the roundness of his broad shoulders. His features
+were especially remarkable for their expression of sarcastic sternness,
+to which was joined that air of inexorable assurance peculiar to people
+who are convinced of their power and are vain of it. A narrow black
+cravat, tied, as they say, a la Colin, a long waistcoat of Scotch cloth,
+a light greatcoat, whitish in colour, a gray hat well worn, and wide
+nankin trousers, in the pockets of which M. Pascal kept his hands, made
+up his costume of doubtful cleanliness, and perfectly in harmony with
+the extreme heat of the season and the habitual carelessness of the
+wearer.
+
+When M. Pascal passed before the porter's lodge, he was challenged by
+that functionary, who from the depth of his armchair called:
+
+"Eh!--speak, sir, where are you going?"
+
+Either M. Pascal did not hear the porter, or he did not wish to give
+himself the trouble to reply, as he continued to walk toward the
+entrance of the palace without saying a word.
+
+The porter, forced to rise from his armchair, ran after the mute
+visitor, and said, impatiently:
+
+"I ask again, sir, where are you going? You can reply, can you not?"
+
+M. Pascal stopped, took a disdainful survey of his interlocutor,
+shrugged his shoulders, and said, as he turned again toward the
+entrance: "I am going--to see the archduke."
+
+The porter knew the class with which he was accustomed to deal. He could
+not imagine that this visitor, in a summer greatcoat and loose cravat,
+really had an audience with the prince, or would dare to present himself
+before his Highness in a costume so impertinently outside of the
+regulation, for all persons who had the honour of being received at the
+palace were usually attired in black; so taking M. Pascal for some
+half-witted or badly informed tradesman, he followed him, calling in a
+loud voice:
+
+"But sir, tradespeople who come to see his Highness do not pass by the
+grand staircase. Down there at the right you will see the door for
+tradesmen and servants by which you ought to enter."
+
+M. Pascal did not care to talk; he shrugged his shoulders again, and
+continued his march toward the staircase without a word.
+
+The porter, exasperated by this silence and this obstinacy, seized M.
+Pascal by the arm, and, speaking louder still, said:
+
+"Must I tell you again, sir, that you cannot pass that way?"
+
+"What do you mean, scoundrel?" cried M. Pascal, in a tone of contempt
+and anger, as if this outrage on the part of the porter was as insolent
+as inconceivable, "do you know to whom you are talking?"
+
+There was in these words an expression of authority so threatening, that
+the poor porter, frightened for a moment, stammered:
+
+"Monsieur,--I--do--not--know."
+
+The great door of the vestibule was suddenly opened. One of the
+aids-de-camp of the prince, having seen from the parlour window the
+altercation between the visitor and the porter, hastily descended the
+staircase, and, eagerly approaching M. Pascal, said to him in excellent
+French, with a sympathetic tone:
+
+"Ah, monsieur, his Royal Highness will, I am sure, be much grieved by
+this misunderstanding. Do me the honour to follow me; I will introduce
+you at once. I have just received orders from monseigneur concerning
+you, sir."
+
+M. Pascal bowed his head in assent, and followed the aid-de-camp,
+leaving the porter amazed and afflicted by his own want of address.
+
+When M. Pascal and his guide arrived in the chamber of waiting, where
+other officials were congregated, the young officer said:
+
+"The audience of his Royal Highness is crowded this morning, because the
+review detained monseigneur much longer than he expected, so, desiring
+to make you wait as short a time as possible, he has ordered me to
+conduct you, upon your arrival, into a chamber adjoining his private
+office, where his Royal Highness will meet you as soon as his conference
+with the minister of foreign affairs is ended."
+
+M. Pascal again made sign of assent, and, following the aid-de-camp,
+crossed a dark passage, and entered a chamber overlooking the
+magnificent garden of the Elysee-Bourbon.
+
+Before withdrawing, the aid-de-camp, not a little annoyed by the
+unfortunate altercation between the porter and M. Pascal, remarked the
+negligent attire of the latter. Habituated to the severe formalities of
+etiquette, the young courtier was shocked at the unconventional dress of
+the person he was about to introduce, and hesitated between the fear of
+antagonising a man like Pascal and the desire to protest against the
+unsuitability of his bearing as an insult to the dignity of a prince,
+who was known to be inexorable in all that pertained to the respect due
+his rank; but the first fear prevailed, and as it was too late to insist
+upon a change of dress consistent with the requirements of court
+etiquette, the young courtier said:
+
+"As soon as the foreign minister withdraws from the presence of his
+Royal Highness, I will inform him, sir, that you are at his orders."
+
+These last words, "that you are at his orders," did not appear to sound
+very well in the ears of M. Pascal. A sardonic smile played upon his
+lips, but making himself at home, so to speak, and finding the
+temperature of the room too warm, he opened one of the windows, placed
+his elbows on the balustrade, and, keeping his hat on his head, occupied
+himself with a survey of the garden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Everybody knows the garden of the Elysee, that charming little park,
+planted with the most beautiful trees in the world, whose fresh green
+turf is watered by a clear winding river; a terraced walk, shaded by
+elms a century old, borders this park on the side of the avenue called
+Marigny; a similar walk, parallel to it, bounds it on the opposite side,
+and a very low wall separates it from the neighbouring gardens. This
+last mentioned walk ended a short distance from the window where M.
+Pascal was so comfortably seated, and soon his attention was keenly
+awakened by several incidents.
+
+The young man who had passed through the parlour, occupied by
+secretaries and gentlemen, and who had, for reason of his timidity, been
+the subject of several remarks, was slowly promenading the shaded walk.
+He was of slender and graceful stature. Every few moments he stopped,
+stooped down, and remained immovable a second, then continued his
+promenade. When he reached the extremity of the walk, he approached,
+almost by stealth, the wall bordering upon the adjacent garden, and, as
+at this point the wall was hardly more than four feet high, he leaned
+upon it, apparently absorbed in reflection or the expectation of meeting
+another person.
+
+So long as the promenader kept his back turned to M. Pascal, who now
+began to feel very curious concerning him, his features of course could
+not be distinguished; but when he turned, after having made some
+desired discovery, and retraced his steps, he was face to face with his
+observer at the window.
+
+Count Frantz de Neuberg, as we have said, passed for the godson of the
+archduke, by whom he was tenderly loved. According to the rumours of the
+court, his Royal Highness, having had no children since his marriage
+with the Princess of Saxe-Teschen, had abundant reason for exercising
+paternal interest in Frantz de Neuberg, the secret fruit of a first
+love.
+
+Frantz, scarcely twenty years old at the time of this history, presented
+the perfect type of the melancholy beauty of the North. His long blond
+hair, parted in the middle of a brow as white and ingenuous as that of a
+young girl, framed a face whose regularity was without a flaw. His large
+blue eyes, soft and dreaming, seemed to reflect the purity of his soul,
+and an incipient beard, shading his chin and upper lip with a silken,
+golden down, accentuated the virility of his charming face.
+
+As he came up the walk, Frantz more and more attracted the attention of
+M. Pascal, who looked at him with a sort of admiring surprise, for it
+would have been difficult not to observe the rare perfection of the
+young man's features; but when at a short distance from the window he
+encountered the fixed and persistent gaze of M. Pascal, he appeared not
+less provoked than embarrassed, blushed, looked downward, and, turning
+on his heel, abruptly, quickened his pace until he reached the middle of
+the walk, where he began again his slow promenade, evidently constrained
+by the thought that a stranger was watching his movements. He hardly
+dared approach the boundary of the neighbouring garden, but suddenly,
+forgetting all preoccupation, he ran toward the wall at the sight of a
+little straw hat which appeared on the other side, and encased in its
+frame lined with rose-coloured silk was the freshest, most entrancing
+countenance of fifteen years that ever entered into a young man's
+dream.
+
+"Mlle. Antonine," said Frantz quickly, in a low voice, "some one is
+looking at us."
+
+"This evening," murmured a sweet voice, in reply.
+
+And the little straw hat disappeared as by enchantment, as the young
+girl jumped from a bench she had mounted on the other side of the wall.
+But as compensation, no doubt, for this abrupt retreat, a beautiful rose
+fell at the feet of Frantz, who picked it up and passionately pressed it
+to his lips, then, hiding the flower in his waistcoat, the young man
+disappeared in a thicket instead of continuing his promenade in the long
+walk. Notwithstanding the rapidity with which these incidents
+transpired, and the instantaneous disappearance of the little straw hat,
+M. Pascal had seen distinctly the exquisite loveliness of the young
+girl's face, and Frantz also, as he kissed the rose which fell at his
+feet.
+
+The hard and saturnine features of M. Pascal took on a strange and
+gloomy expression, where one could read violent anger mingled with
+jealousy, pain, and hatred. For some moments, his physiognomy, almost
+terrifying in its malevolence, betrayed the man, who, accustomed to see
+all bend before him, is capable of sentiments and actions of diabolical
+wickedness when an unforeseen obstacle contradicts his iron will.
+
+"She! she! here in this garden near the Elysee!" exclaimed he, with
+concentrated rage. "What is she doing there? Triple fool that I am! she
+comes here to coquet with this puny, blond youth. Perhaps she lives in
+the next hotel. Misery! misery! to find out the place where she dwells
+after having done everything in vain to discover it since this damned
+pretty face of fifteen struck my eyes, and made me a fool,--I, who
+believed myself dead to these sudden and frantic caprices, compared to
+which what are called violent passions of the heart are ice. I have met
+this little girl three times, and feel myself, as in my young days,
+capable of anything in order to possess her. How jealousy irritates and
+devours me this moment! Misery! it is stupid, it is silly, but oh, how I
+suffer!"
+
+As he uttered these words, M. Pascal's face expressed malicious and
+ferocious grief; then shaking his fist at the side of the wall where the
+little straw hat had disappeared, he muttered, in a voice of
+concentrated rage:
+
+"You shall pay for it. Go, little girl, and whatever it may cost me, you
+shall belong to me."
+
+And sitting with his elbows on the balustrade, unable to detach his
+angry glances from the spot where he had seen Frantz speak to the young
+girl, M. Pascal presented a picture of fury and despair, when one of the
+doors of the parlour softly opened, and the archduke entered.
+
+The prince, evidently, felt so sure that he would meet his expected
+visitor face to face, that, beforehand, instead of his usual cold
+arrogance, he had assumed a most agreeable expression, entering the room
+with a smile upon his lips.
+
+But M. Pascal, leaning half way out of the window, had not heard the
+door open, and, never suspecting the presence of the prince, he remained
+seated, his back to the Royal Highness, and his elbows on the sill of
+the window.
+
+A physiognomist witnessing this silent scene would have found in it a
+curious study of the reaction of feeling in the countenance of the
+prince.
+
+At the sight of M. Pascal leaning out of the window, wearing a summer
+greatcoat, and violating all propriety by keeping his hat on his head,
+the archduke stopped short; his assumed smile vanished from his lips,
+and, taking a prouder attitude than ordinary, he stiffened himself in
+his handsome uniform, turned purple with anger, knit his eyebrows, while
+his eyes flashed with indignation. But soon reflection, doubtless,
+appeasing this inner storm, the features of the prince took on an
+expression of resignation as bitter as it was sad, and he bowed his
+head, as if he submitted to a fatal necessity.
+
+Stifling a sigh of offended pride as he threw a glance of vindictive
+contempt on Pascal at the window, the prince again assumed, as we have
+said, his smile of affability, and walked toward the casement, coughing
+loud enough to announce his presence, and spare himself the last
+humiliation of touching the shoulder of our familiar visitor in order to
+attract his attention.
+
+At the sonorous "hum-hum!" of his Royal Highness, M. Pascal turned
+around suddenly. The gloomy expression of his face was succeeded by a
+sort of cruel and malicious satisfaction, as if the occasion had
+furnished a victim upon whom he could vent his suppressed wrath.
+
+M. Pascal approached the prince, saluted him in a free and easy manner,
+and holding his hat in one hand, while the other was plunged deep in his
+pocket, he said:
+
+"A thousand pardons, monseigneur, really I did not know you were there."
+
+"I am persuaded of that, M. Pascal," replied the prince, with
+ill-disguised haughtiness.
+
+Then he added:
+
+"Please follow me into my study, sir. I have some official news to
+communicate to you."
+
+And he walked toward his study, when M. Pascal, with apparent calmness,
+for this man had a wonderful control over himself when it was necessary,
+said:
+
+"Monseigneur, will you permit me one question?"
+
+"Speak, sir," replied the prince, stopping and turning to his visitor,
+with surprise.
+
+"Monseigneur, who is that young man of twenty at the most, with long
+blond hair, who promenades in the walk which can be seen from this
+window? Who is he, monseigneur?"
+
+"You mean, no doubt, monsieur, my godson, Count Frantz de Neuberg."
+
+"Ah, this young man is your godson, monseigneur? I congratulate you
+sincerely,--one could not see a prettier boy."
+
+"Is he not?" replied the prince, sensible of this praise, even in the
+mouth of Pascal. "Has he not a charming face?"
+
+"That is what I have just been observing at my leisure, monseigneur."
+
+"And Count Frantz has not only a charming face," added the prince; "he
+has fine qualities of heart and great bravery."
+
+"I am enchanted, monseigneur, to know that you have such an accomplished
+godson. Has he been in Paris long?"
+
+"He arrived with me."
+
+"And he will depart with you, monseigneur, for it must be painful for
+you to be separated from this amiable young man?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur, I hope to take Count Frantz with me back to Germany."
+
+"A thousand pardons, monseigneur, for my indiscreet curiosity, but your
+godson is one of those persons in whom one is interested in spite of
+himself. Now, I am at your service."
+
+"Then follow me, if you please, monsieur."
+
+Pascal nodded his head in assent, and, walking side by side with the
+archduke, he reached the door of the study with him, then, stopping with
+a gesture of deference, which was only another impertinence, he bowed
+slightly, and said to the prince, as if his Highness had hesitated to
+enter first:
+
+"After you, monseigneur, after you."
+
+The prince understood the insolence, but swallowed it, and entered his
+study, making a sign to Pascal to follow him.
+
+The latter, although unaccustomed to the ceremonial of the court, had
+too much penetration not to comprehend the import of his acts and words.
+He had not only the consciousness of his insolence, instigated by his
+recent and suppressed resentment, but this insolence he had actually
+studied and calculated, and even in his interview had considered the
+question of addressing his Royal Highness as monsieur, simply; but, by a
+refinement of intelligent impertinence, he thought the ceremonious
+appellation of monseigneur would render his familiarities still more
+disagreeable to the dignity and good breeding of the prince.
+
+Let us turn back to an analysis of the character of Pascal,--a character
+less eccentric, perhaps, than it appears at first to be. Let us say,
+simply, that for ten years of his life this man, born in a humble and
+precarious position, had as a day-labourer and drudge submitted to the
+most painful humiliations, the most insolent domination, and the most
+outrageous contempt. Thus, bitter and implacable hatreds were massed
+together in his soul, and the day when, in his turn, he became powerful,
+he abandoned himself without scruple and without remorse to the fierce
+joy of reprisal, and it gave him little concern if his revenge fell upon
+an innocent head.
+
+The archduke, instead of a superior mind, possessed a long, practical
+acquaintance with men, acquired in the exercise of supreme authority in
+the military hierarchy of his country; besides, in his second interview
+with M. Pascal,--at which interview we have assisted,--he had understood
+the significance of the studied insolence of this person, and when, as
+he entered his study with him, he saw him, without invitation, seat
+himself familiarly in the armchair just occupied by a prime minister,
+whom he found full of courtesy and deference, the prince felt a new and
+cruel oppression of the heart.
+
+The penetrating glance of Pascal surprised the expression of this
+feeling on the face of the archduke, and he said to himself, with
+triumphant disdain: "Here is a prince born on the steps of a throne, a
+cousin, at least, of all the kings of Europe, a generalissimo of an
+army of a hundred thousand soldiers, here he is in all the glory of his
+battle uniform, adorned with all the insignia of honour and war. This
+highness, this man, despises me in his pride of a sovereign race. He
+hates me because he has need of me, and knows well that he must
+humiliate himself; nevertheless, this man, in spite of his contempt, in
+spite of his hatred, I hold in my power, and I intend to make him feel
+it keenly, for to-day my heart is steeped in gall."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+M. Pascal, having seated himself in the gilded armchair on the side of
+the table opposite the prince, first seized a mother-of-pearl
+paper-cutter that he found under his hand, and, whirling it incessantly,
+said:
+
+"Monseigneur, if it is agreeable to you, let us talk of business, for at
+a certain hour I must be in the Faubourg St. Marceau, at the house of a
+manufacturer, who is one of my friends."
+
+"I wish to inform you, monsieur," replied the prince, restraining
+himself with difficulty, "that I have already postponed until to-morrow
+other audiences that should have taken place to-day, that I might devote
+all my time to you."
+
+"That is very kind of you, monseigneur, but let us come to the point."
+
+The prince took up from the table a long sheet of official paper, and,
+handing it to M. Pascal, said to him:
+
+"This note will prove to you, monsieur, that all the parties interested
+in the transfer that is proposed to me not only authorise me formally to
+accept it, but willingly offer their pledges, and even protect all the
+accidents of my acceptance."
+
+M. Pascal, without moving from his armchair, extended his hand from one
+side of the table to the other, to receive the note, and, taking it,
+said:
+
+"There was absolutely nothing to be done without this security."
+
+And he began to read slowly, nibbling the while the mother-of-pearl
+knife, which he did not surrender for a moment.
+
+The prince fixed an anxious, penetrating glance on Pascal, trying to
+divine, from the expression of his face, if his visitor had confidence
+in the security offered.
+
+At the end of a few moments, M. Pascal discontinued his reading, saying
+between his teeth, with an offended air, as if he were talking to
+himself:
+
+"Ho! ho! This Article 7 does not suit me at all,--not at all!"
+
+"Explain yourself, monsieur," said the prince, seriously annoyed.
+
+"However," continued M. Pascal, taking up his reading again, without
+replying to the archduke, and pretending to be talking to himself, "this
+Article 7 is corrected by Article 8,--yes,--and, in fact, it is quite
+good,--it is very good."
+
+The countenance of the prince seemed to brighten, for, earnestly
+occupied with the powerful interests of which M. Pascal had necessarily
+become the umpire, he forgot the impertinence and calculated wickedness
+of this man, who found a savage delight in making his victim pass
+through all the perplexities of fear and hope.
+
+At the end of a few moments, each one of which brought new anxiety to
+the prince, M. Pascal exclaimed:
+
+"Impossible, that! impossible! For me everything would be annulled by
+this first supplementary article. It is a mockery!"
+
+"Monsieur," cried the prince, "speak more clearly!"
+
+"Pardon me, monseigneur, at that moment I was reading to myself. Well
+and good, if you wish, I will read for both of us."
+
+The archduke bowed his head, turned red with suppressed indignation,
+appeared discouraged, and leaned his head on his hand.
+
+M. Pascal, continuing his perusal of the paper, threw a glance by
+stealth at the prince, and replied after a few moments, in a more
+satisfied tone:
+
+"This is a sure, incontestable security."
+
+Then, as the prince seemed to regain hope, he added:
+
+"Unfortunately, this security is apart from--"
+
+He did not finish, but continued his reading in silence.
+
+Never a solicitor in distress imploring a haughty and unfeeling
+protector, never a despairing borrower humbly addressing a dishonest and
+whimsical usurer, never accused seeking to read his pardon or
+condemnation in the countenance of his judge, experienced the torture
+felt by the prince while M. Pascal was reading the note which he had
+examined and which he now laid on the table.
+
+"Well, monsieur," said the prince, swallowing his impatience, "what do
+you decide?"
+
+"Monseigneur, will you have the kindness to lend me a pen and some
+paper?"
+
+The prince pushed an inkstand, a pen, and some paper before M. Pascal,
+who began a long series of figures, sometimes lifting his eyes to the
+ceiling, as if to make a calculation in his head, sometimes muttering
+incomplete sentences, such as--
+
+"No--I am mistaken because--but I was about to forget--it is
+evident--the balance will be equal if--"
+
+After long expectation on the part of the prince, M. Pascal threw the
+pen down on the table, plunged both hands in the pockets of his
+trousers, threw his head back, and shut his eyes, as if making a last
+mental calculation, then, holding his head up, said in a short,
+peremptory voice:
+
+"Impossible, monseigneur."
+
+"What, monsieur!" cried the prince, dismayed. "You assured me in our
+first interview that the operation was practicable."
+
+"Practicable, monseigneur, but not accomplished."
+
+"But this note, monsieur, this note, joined to the securities I have
+offered you?"
+
+"This note completes, I know, the securities indispensable to such an
+operation."
+
+"Then, monsieur, how do you account for your refusal?"
+
+"For particular reasons, monseigneur."
+
+"But, I ask again, do I not offer all the security desirable?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur, I will say that I regard the operation not only
+feasible, but sure and advantageous to one who is willing to undertake
+it; so, I do not doubt, monseigneur, you can find--"
+
+"Eh! monsieur," interrupted the prince, "you know that in the present
+financial crisis, and for other reasons which you understand as well as
+I, that you are the only person who can undertake this business."
+
+"The preference of your Royal Highness honours and flatters me
+infinitely," said Pascal, with an accent of ironical recognition, "so I
+doubly regret my inability to meet it."
+
+The prince perceived the sarcasm, and replied, feigning offence at the
+want of appreciation his kindness had met:
+
+"You are unjust, monsieur. The proof that I adhered to my agreement with
+you in this affair is that I have refused to entertain the proposition
+of the house Durand."
+
+"I am almost certain that it is a lie," thought M. Pascal, "but no
+matter, I will get information about the thing; besides, this house
+sometimes disturbs and cramps me. Fortunately, thanks to that knave,
+Marcelange, I have an excellent means of protecting myself from that
+inconvenience in the future."
+
+"Another proof that I adhered directly to my personal agreement with
+you, M. Pascal," continued the prince, in a deferential tone, "is that I
+have desired no agent to come between us, certain that we would
+understand each other as the matter should be understood. Yes," added
+the archduke, with a still more insinuating tone, "I hoped that this
+just homage rendered to your financial intelligence, so universally
+recognised--"
+
+"Ah, monseigneur."
+
+"To your character as honourable as it is honoured--"
+
+"Monseigneur, really, you overwhelm me."
+
+"I hoped, I repeat, my dear M. Pascal, that in coming frankly to you to
+propose--what?--an operation whose solidity and advantage you recognise,
+you would appreciate my attitude, since it appeals to the financier as
+much as to the private citizen. In short, I hoped to assure you, not
+only by pecuniary advantage, but by especial testimony, of my esteem and
+gratitude."
+
+"Monseigneur--"
+
+"I repeat it, my dear M. Pascal, of my gratitude, since, in making a
+successful speculation, you would render me an immense service, for you
+cannot know what the results of this loan I solicit from you would be to
+my dearest family interests."
+
+"Monseigneur, I am ignorant of--"
+
+"And when I speak to you of family interests," said the prince,
+interrupting M. Pascal, whom he hoped to bring back to his views, "when
+I speak of family interests, it is not enough; an important question of
+state also attaches to the transfer of the duchy that is offered me, and
+which I can acquire only through your powerful financial aid. So, in
+rendering me a personal service, you would be greatly useful to my
+nation, and you know, my dear M. Pascal, how great empires requite
+services done to the state."
+
+"Excuse my ignorance, monseigneur, but I am altogether ignorant of the
+whole thing."
+
+The prince smiled, remained silent a moment, and replied, with an accent
+he believed irresistible:
+
+"My dear M. Pascal, are you acquainted with the celebrated banker,
+Tortolia?"
+
+"I know him by name, monseigneur."
+
+"Do you know that he is a prince of the Holy Empire?"
+
+"Prince of the Holy Empire, monseigneur!" replied Pascal, with
+amazement.
+
+"I have my man," thought the prince, and he replied aloud: "Do you know
+that the banker, Tortolia, is a great dignitary in one of the most
+coveted orders?"
+
+"It would be possible, monseigneur."
+
+"It is not only possible, but it is an actual fact, my dear M. Pascal.
+Now, I do not see why what has been done for M. Tortolia cannot be done
+for you."
+
+"Could that be, monseigneur?"
+
+"I say," repeated the prince, with emphasis, "I say I do not see why an
+illustrious title and high dignities should not recompense you also."
+
+"Me, monseigneur?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Me, monseigneur, I become Prince Pascal?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Come, come, monseigneur is laughing at his poor servant."
+
+"No one has ever doubted my promise, monsieur, and it is almost an
+offence to me to believe me capable of laughing at you."
+
+"Then, monseigneur, I would laugh at myself, very heartily and very
+long, if I were stupid enough to desire to pose as a prince, or duke, or
+marquis, in Europe's carnival of nobility! You see, monseigneur, I am
+only a poor devil of a plebeian,--my father was a peddler, and I have
+been a day-labourer. I have laid up a few cents, in attending to my
+small affairs. I have only my common sense, but this good common sense,
+monseigneur, will always prevent my decking myself out as the Marquis de
+la Janotiere--that is a very pretty story by Voltaire, you ought to read
+it, monseigneur!--or making myself the laughing-stock of those malicious
+people who amuse themselves by creating marquises and princes out of
+poor folk."
+
+The archduke was far from expecting this refusal and this bitter retort;
+however, he put a good face on it, and replied, significantly:
+
+"M. Pascal, I admire this rough sincerity; I admire this
+disinterestedness. Thank God, there are other means of proving to you my
+gratitude, and, one day, my friendship."
+
+"Your friendship, monseigneur?"
+
+"It is because I know its worth," added the prince, with imposing
+dignity, "that I assure you of my friendship, if--"
+
+"Your friendship for me, monseigneur," replied Pascal, interrupting the
+prince, "your friendship for me, who have, as the wicked ones say,
+increased my little possessions a hundredfold by dangerous methods,
+although I have come out of these calumniating accusations as white as a
+young dove?"
+
+"It is because you have, as you say, monsieur, come out of these odious
+calumnies, by which all who elevate themselves by labour and merit are
+pursued, that I would assure you of my affectionate gratitude, if you
+render me the important service I expect of you."
+
+"Monseigneur, I could not be more impressed or more flattered by your
+kindness, but unfortunately business is business," said M. Pascal, "and
+this affair you air does not suit me at all. I need not say how much it
+costs me to renounce the friendship of which your Royal Highness has
+desired to assure me."
+
+At this response, bitter and humiliating in its insulting irony, the
+prince was on the point of flying into a passion, but, reflecting upon
+the shame and futility of such a transport of rage, he controlled
+himself, and, desiring to attempt a final effort, he said, in an
+aggrieved tone:
+
+"So, M. Pascal, it will be said that I prayed, supplicated, and implored
+you in vain."
+
+These words, "prayed, supplicated, implored," uttered in a tone of
+sincere distress, appeared in the eyes of the prince to make an
+impression on M. Pascal, and, in fact, did make a decided impression,
+inasmuch as, up to that moment, the archduke had not entirely abased
+himself, but seeing this royal person, after such obstinate refusal,
+willing to descend to further supplication, M. Pascal experienced an
+intensity of happiness that he had never known before.
+
+The prince, observing his silence, believed his purpose was shaken, and
+added, readily:
+
+"Come, my dear M. Pascal, I cannot appeal to your generous heart in
+vain."
+
+"Really, monseigneur," replied the bloodthirsty villain, who, knowing
+the speculation to be a good one, was at heart disposed to undertake it,
+but wanted to realise pleasure as well as profit from it, "you have such
+a way of putting things. Business, I repeat, ought to be business only,
+but see now, in spite of myself, I yield like a child to sentiment I am
+so weak--"
+
+"You consent?" interrupted the prince, radiant with joy, and he seized
+both hands of the financier in his own. "You consent, my worthy and kind
+M. Pascal?"
+
+"How can I resist you, monseigneur?"
+
+"At last!" cried the archduke, drawing a long breath of profound
+satisfaction, as if he had just escaped a frightful danger. "At last!"
+
+"But, monseigneur," replied Pascal, "I must make one little condition."
+
+"Oh, I shall not stand on that, whatever it may be. I subscribe to it
+beforehand."
+
+"You pledge yourself to more, perhaps, than you think, monseigneur."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked the prince, somewhat disquieted. "What
+condition do you speak of?"
+
+"In three days, monseigneur, to the hour, I will inform you."
+
+"What!" exclaimed the prince, astonished and crestfallen; "more delays.
+Do you not give me your positive promise?"
+
+"In three days, monseigneur, I will give it to you, provided you accept
+my condition."
+
+"But, pray, tell me this condition now."
+
+"Impossible, monseigneur."
+
+"My dear M. Pascal--"
+
+"Monseigneur," replied Pascal, with ironical gravity, "it is not my
+habit to be weak twice in succession during one interview. It is now the
+hour for my appointment in the Faubourg St. Marceau; I have the honour
+of presenting my respectful compliments to your Royal Highness."
+
+M. Pascal, leaving the prince full of vexation and concern, walked to
+the door, then turned, and said:
+
+"To-day is Monday; on Thursday, at eleven o'clock, I shall have the
+honour of seeing your Royal Highness again, and will then submit my
+little condition."
+
+"Very well, monsieur; on Thursday."
+
+M. Pascal bowed profoundly, and went out.
+
+When he passed through the parlour where the officials were assembled
+all rose respectfully, recognising the importance of the person whom the
+prince had just received. M. Pascal returned their courtesy with a
+patronising inclination of the head, and left the palace as he had
+entered it, both hands in his pockets, not denying himself the
+pleasure--for this man lost nothing--of stopping a minute before the
+lodge of the porter and saying to him:
+
+"Well, scoundrel, will you recognise me another time?"
+
+"Oh, I shall recognise monsieur hereafter! I beg monsieur to pardon my
+mistake."
+
+"He begs me," said Pascal, half aloud, with a bitter smile. "They know
+how to beg from the Royal Highness to the porter."
+
+M. Pascal, as he went out of the Elysee, fell again into painful
+reflections upon the subject of the young girl whose secret meeting with
+Count Frantz de Neuberg he had surprised. Wishing to know if she lived
+in the house contiguous to the palace, he was going to make inquiries,
+when, remembering that such a course might perhaps compromise his plans,
+he prudently resolved to wait until evening.
+
+Seeing a hackney coach, he called the driver, entered the carriage, and
+said to him:
+
+"Faubourg St. Marceau, fifteen; the large factory whose chimney you see
+from the street."
+
+"The factory belonging to M. Dutertre? I know, citizen, I know;
+everybody knows that."
+
+The coachman drove down the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+M. Pascal, as we have said, had spent a part of his life in a
+subordinate and precarious position, enduring the most ignominious
+treatment with a patience full of bitterness and hatred.
+
+Born of a peddler who had amassed a competency by dint of privation and
+illicit or questionable traffic, he had commenced his business career as
+a day-labourer in the house of a provincial usurer, to whom Pascal's
+father had entrusted the care of his money.
+
+The first years of our hero were passed in a state of servitude as hard
+as it was humiliating. Nevertheless, as he was endowed with considerable
+intelligence and unusual ingenuity, and as his despotic will could, upon
+necessity, hide itself under an exterior of insinuating meanness,--a
+dissimulation which was the result of his condition,--Pascal, without
+the knowledge of his master, learned to read, write, and draw up
+accounts, the faculty for financial calculation developing in him
+spontaneously with marvellous rapidity. Foreseeing the value of these
+acquirements, he resolved to conceal them, using them only for his own
+advantage, and as a dangerous weapon against his master, whom he
+detested. After mature reflection, Pascal finally thought it his
+interest to reveal the knowledge he had secretly acquired. The usurer,
+struck with the ability of the man who was his drudge, then took him as
+his bookkeeper at a reduced salary, increased his meagre pay by the
+smallest possible amount, continued to treat him with brutal contempt,
+vilifying him more than ever that he might not suspect the use that he
+made of his new services.
+
+Pascal, earnest, indefatigable in work, and eager to further his
+financial education, continued to submit passively to the outrages
+heaped upon him, redoubling his servility in proportion as his master
+redoubled disdain and cruelty.
+
+At the end of a few years thus passed, he felt sufficiently strong to
+leave the province, and seek a field more worthy of his ability. He
+entered into a business correspondence with a banker in Paris, to whom
+he offered his services. The banker had long appreciated Pascal's work,
+accepted his proposition, and the bookkeeper left the little town, to
+the great regret of his former master, who tried too late to retain him
+in his own interests.
+
+The new patron of our hero was at the head of one of those rich houses,
+morally questionable, but--and it is not unusual--regarded, in a
+commercial sense, as irreproachable; because, if these houses deal in
+speculations which sometimes touch upon robbery and fraud, and enrich
+themselves by ingenious and successful bankruptcy, they, to use their
+own pretentious words, honour their signature, however dishonourable
+that signature may be in the opinion of others.
+
+Fervent disciples of that beautiful axiom so universally adopted before
+the revolution of 1848,--Get rich!--they proudly take their seats in the
+Chamber of Commerce, heroically assume the name of honourable, and even
+aim at control of the administration. Why not?
+
+The luxury so much boasted by the old tenants was misery compared to the
+magnificence of M. Thomas Rousselet.
+
+Pascal, transplanted to this house of absurd and extravagant opulence,
+suffered humiliations altogether different, but quite as bitter and
+painful as when he was with the knavish usurer in the province, who, it
+is true, treated him as a despicable hireling, but had with him in his
+daily work frequent and familiar relations.
+
+One would seek in vain, among the proudest nobility, the most exclusive
+aristocracy, anything which could approach the imperious and crushing
+disdain with which M. and Madame Rousselet treated their subordinates.
+Shut up in their gloomy offices, from which they saw the sumptuous
+displays of the Hotel Rousselet, the persons employed in this house knew
+only by fairy-like tradition or fabulous legend the gorgeous wonders of
+these parlours and this dining-room, from which they were absolutely
+excluded by the dignity of Madame Rousselet, who was as haughty and
+domineering as the first lady of the chamber to a princess of Lorraine
+or Rohan.
+
+Although of a new class, these humiliations were not the less galling to
+Pascal; he now felt more than ever his dependence, his nothingness, and
+the yoke of the opulent banker chafed him far more than the abuse of the
+usurer; but our hero, faithful to his plans, hid his wounds, smiled at
+blows, and licked the varnished boot which sometimes deigned to amuse
+itself by kicking him, redoubling labour, study, and shrewdness, until
+he learned the practice of this house, which he considered the perfect
+pattern of business enterprise, whose motto was:
+
+"Get as much money as possible with the least money possible by all the
+means possible, carefully protecting yourself from the police and the
+court."
+
+The margin is a large one, and, as can be easily seen, one can operate
+there at pleasure.
+
+Thus passed five or six years. The imagination revolts at the
+accumulation of bitterness, hatred, anger, venom, and malice in the
+depths of this calculating and vindictive soul, always calm without,
+like the black and gloomy surface of a poisonous morass.
+
+One day M. Pascal learned the death of his father.
+
+The peddler's savings, considerably increased by skilful financial
+manipulation, had attained a very high figure. Once possessed of this
+capital, Pascal swore that he would amass a great fortune by untiring
+diligence and fortitude, by knowing what to do, and, still more, by
+knowing how to take; for, argued he, one must risk something, and, if
+need be, go outside of the straight and narrow path of lawfulness. Our
+hero kept his oath. He left the house of Rousselet. Ability, chance,
+fraud, luck, adroitness, and the laws of the time all contributed to his
+success. He gained important sums, rewarding with cash the friendship of
+an agent, who, keeping him well informed, put it in his power to handle
+safely seventy thousand on the Exchange, and lay up almost two millions.
+A short time afterward an intelligent and adventurous broker, versed in
+the business of London, helped him to see the possibility of realising
+immense profit, by boldly engaging in railway speculations, then
+altogether new in England. Pascal went to London, engaged successfully
+in an enterprise which soon assumed unheard-of proportions, threw his
+whole fortune upon one cast of the die, and, realising in time, came
+back to France with fifteen millions. Then, as cool and prudent as he
+had been adventurous, and naturally endowed with great financial talent,
+his only thought was to continually increase this unexpected fortune; he
+succeeded, availing himself of every opportunity with rare skill, living
+comfortably, satisfying, at any cost, his numerous sensual desires, but
+never attracting attention by any exterior display or luxury, and always
+dining at a public house. In this way he scarcely spent the fifth part
+of his income, which, furnishing new capital each year, constantly added
+to the fortune which successful speculation as constantly augmented.
+
+Then, as we have said, came to Pascal his great and terrible day of
+reprisal.
+
+This soul, hardened by so many years of humiliation and hatred, became
+implacable, and found a thousand cruel delights in making others feel
+the weight of the money yoke which he had worn so long.
+
+His keenest suffering had come from the vassalage, the servitude, and
+complete effacement of self in which he had been held for so long a time
+under the tyranny of his opulent employers. Now, his pleasure was to
+impose this servitude on others,--on some, by exercising their natural
+servility, on others, by compelling them to submit to hard necessity,
+thus symbolising in himself the almighty power of money, holding all who
+came within his grasp in absolute slavery, from the petty merchant whom
+he commanded to the prince of royal blood who humbled himself to obtain
+a loan. This awful despotism, which the man who lends exercises over the
+man whose necessities force him to borrow, Pascal wielded and enjoyed
+with all the refinement and delicacy of an incredible barbarity. We hear
+often of the power of Satan over souls. M. Pascal was able to destroy or
+torture as many and more souls than Satan.
+
+Once in his power, through credit, loan, or partnership,--often granted
+with a show of perfect good-nature, and not unfrequently offered with a
+duplicity which looked like generosity, though always on solid
+security,--a man belonged to himself no longer; he had, as was commonly
+said, sold his soul to Satan-Pascal.
+
+He calculated and arranged his bargains with a skill which seemed
+infernal.
+
+A commercial crisis would arrive,--capital not be found, or at such
+exorbitant interest that merchants, at other times solvent and prompt in
+payment, saw themselves in extreme embarrassment, often upon the brink
+of failure. M. Pascal, perfectly instructed and certain of covering his
+advances by merchandise or property, granted or proposed assistance at
+enormous interest, with the invariable condition that he was to be
+reimbursed at his will, hastening to add that he would not exercise his
+right, inasmuch as his own advantage would be gained by keeping his
+money at interest; but by habit or caprice, as he argued, he always held
+to this express condition, to be reimbursed at his will.
+
+The alternative was cruel indeed for the unhappy ones whom Satan-Pascal
+tempted: on one hand, the ruin of a prosperous industry; on the other,
+an unexpected aid, so easily offered that it might pass for a generous
+service. The impossibility of finding capital, even at ruinous rates,
+and the confidence which M. Pascal knew how to inspire, rendered the
+temptation most powerful, a temptation all the more seductive by the
+insinuating kindness of the multi-millionaire, who came, as he declared,
+as a financial providence to the assistance of honest, labouring people.
+
+In a word, everything conspired to stifle suspicion; they accepted. From
+that time Pascal possessed them.
+
+Beset by the fear of an immediate demand for repayment which must reduce
+them to a desperate condition from which they could not hope to rise,
+they had but one aim, to please M. Pascal, but one dread, to displease
+M. Pascal, who was master of their fate.
+
+It not infrequently happened that our Satan did not at first use his
+power, and, by a refinement of wicked malice, would play the part of a
+kind man, a benefactor, taking a fiendish pleasure in hearing the
+benedictions with which his victims loaded him, leaving them for a long
+time in the error which led them to adore their benevolent friend; then,
+by degrees, according to his humour, he revealed himself slowly, never
+employing threats, rudeness, or passion, but, on the contrary, affecting
+an insinuating sweetness which in itself became frightful. Circumstances
+the most insignificant and puerile offered him a thousand means of
+tormenting the persons he held in his absolute power.
+
+For instance, he would arrive at the house of one of his vassals, so to
+speak. Perhaps the man was going with his wife and children to some
+family reunion, long before arranged.
+
+"I have come to dine with you without ceremony to-day, my friends," this
+Satan would say.
+
+"My God, M. Pascal! how sorry we are! To-day is my mother's birthday,
+and you see we are just getting ready to go to dine with her. It is an
+anniversary we never fail to celebrate."
+
+"Ah! that is very provoking, as I hoped to spend my evening with you."
+
+"And do you think it is less annoying to us, dear M. Pascal?"
+
+"Bah! you could very easily give up a family reunion for me. After all,
+your mother would not die if you were not there."
+
+"Oh, my dear M. Pascal, that is impossible! It would be the first time
+since our marriage that we failed in this little family ceremony."
+
+"Come, you surely will do that for me."
+
+"But, M. Pascal--"
+
+"I tell you, you will do that for your good M. Pascal, will you not?"
+
+"We would like to do it with all our heart, but--"
+
+"What! you refuse me that--me--the first thing I have ever asked of
+you?"
+
+And M. Pascal put such an emphasis on the word _me_ that the whole
+family suddenly trembled; they felt, as is vulgarly said, their master,
+and knowing of the strange caprice of the capitalist, they submitted
+sadly rather than offend the dreadful man upon whom their fate depended.
+They gave up the visit and improvised a dinner. They tried to smile, to
+have a cheerful air, and not to appear to regret the family festivity
+which they had renounced. But soon another fear begins to oppress their
+hearts; the dinner is becoming more and more sad and constrained. M.
+Pascal professes a sort of pathetic astonishment, as he complains with a
+sigh:
+
+"Come, now, I have interfered with your plans; you feel bitterly toward
+me, alas! I see it."
+
+"Ah, M. Pascal!" cried the unhappy family, more and more disquieted,
+"how can you conceive such a thought?"
+
+"Oh, I am not mistaken. I see it, I feel it, because my heart tells me
+so. Eh, my God! just to think of it! It is always a great wrong to put
+friendship to the proof, even in the smallest things, because they serve
+sometimes to measure great ones. I,--yes, I,--who counted on you as true
+and good friends!--yet it was a deception, perhaps."
+
+And Satan-Pascal put his hand over his eyes, got up from the table, and
+went out of the house with a grieved and afflicted air, leaving the
+miserable inmates in unspeakable anguish, because he no longer believed
+in their friendship, and thought them ungrateful,--he who could in one
+moment plunge them in an abyss of woe by demanding the money he had so
+generously offered. The gratitude that he expected from them was their
+only assurance of his continued assistance.
+
+We have insisted on these circumstances, trifling as they may seem
+perhaps, but whose result was so cruel, because we wished to give an
+example of how M. Pascal tortured his victims.
+
+Let one judge after that of the degrees of torture to which he was
+capable of subjecting them, when so insignificant a fact as we have
+mentioned offered such food to his calculating cruelty.
+
+He was a monster, it must be admitted.
+
+There are Neros, unhappily, everywhere and in every age, but who would
+dare say that Pascal could have reached such a degree of perversity
+without the pernicious influences and terrible resentments which his
+soul, irritated by a degrading servitude, had nourished for so long a
+time?
+
+The word reprisal does not excuse the cruelty of this man; it explains
+itself. Man rarely becomes wicked without a cause. Evil owes its birth
+to evil.
+
+M. Pascal thus portrayed, we will precede him by one hour to the home of
+M. Charles Dutertre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The factory of M. Dutertre, devoted to the manufacture of locomotives
+for railroads, occupied an immense site in the Faubourg St. Marceau, and
+its tall brick chimneys, constantly smoking, designated it at a great
+distance.
+
+M. Dutertre and his family lived in a small house separated from the
+workshops by a large garden.
+
+At the moment we introduce the reader into this modest dwelling, an air
+of festivity reigned there; every one in the house seemed to be occupied
+with hospitable preparation. A young and active servant had just
+finished arranging the table in the middle of the dining-room, the
+window of which looked out upon the garden, and which bordered upon a
+small kitchen separated from the landing-place by a glass partition,
+panes set in an unpolished frame. An old cook woman went to and fro with
+a bewildered air in this culinary laboratory, from which issued whiffs
+of appetising odours, which sometimes pervaded the dining-room.
+
+In the parlour, furnished with walnut covered in yellow Utrecht velvet
+and curtains of white muslin, other preparations were going on. Two
+vases of white porcelain, ornamenting the chimneypiece, had just been
+filled with fresh flowers; between these two vases, replacing the
+ornamental clock, was a miniature locomotive under a glass globe, a
+veritable masterpiece of mechanism and ironmongery. On the black
+pedestal of this trinket of iron, copper, and steel one could see
+engraved the words:
+
+    _To M. Charles Dutertre._
+    _His grateful workmen._
+
+Teniers or Gerard Dow would have made a charming picture of the family
+group in this parlour.
+
+A blind old man, with a venerable and melancholy face encircled by long
+white hair falling over his shoulders, was seated in an armchair,
+holding two children on his knees,--a little boy of three years old and
+a little girl of five,--two angels of beauty and grace.
+
+The little boy, dark and rosy, with great black eyes as soft as velvet,
+every now and then would look at his pretty blue casimir shirt and white
+trousers with the utmost satisfaction, but was most of all delighted
+with his white silk stockings striped with crimson, and his black
+morocco shoes with ribbon bows.
+
+The little girl, named Madeleine for an intimate friend of the mother
+who was godmother to the child, was fair and rosy, with lovely blue
+eyes, and wore a pretty white dress. Her shoulders and arms were bare,
+and her legs were only half covered by dainty Scotch socks. To tell how
+many dimples were in those shoulders, on those arms, and in those fat
+little cheeks, so red and fresh and smooth, would have required a
+mother's computation, and she could only have learned by the number of
+kisses she gave them.
+
+Standing by and leaning on the back of the old blind man's chair, Madame
+Dutertre was listening with a mother's interest and earnestness to the
+chirping of the little warblers that the grandfather held on his knees,
+talking of this and of that, in that infantine jargon which mothers know
+how to translate with such rare sagacity.
+
+Madame Sophie Dutertre was only twenty-five years old, and, although
+slightly marked by smallpox, had unusually regular and beautiful
+features. It would be difficult to imagine a more gracious or attractive
+countenance, a more refined or agreeable smile, which was the ideal of
+sweetness and amiability. Superb hair, teeth of pearl, a dazzling
+complexion, and an elegant stature rendered her a charming presence
+under any circumstances, and when she raised her large, bright, limpid
+eyes to her husband, who was then standing on the other side of the
+blind old grandfather, love and maternity gave to this tender glance an
+expression at the same time pathetic and passionate, for the marriage of
+Sophie and Charles Dutertre had been a marriage of love.
+
+The only fault--if a fault could be said to pertain to Sophie
+Dutertre--was, as careful and fastidious as she was about the attire of
+her children, she gave very little attention to her own toilet. An
+unbecoming, badly made stuff dress disparaged her elegant figure; her
+little foot was by no means irreproachably shod, and her beautiful brown
+hair was arranged with as little taste as care.
+
+Frank and resolute, intelligent and kind, such was the character of M.
+Dutertre, then about twenty-eight years old. His keen eye, full of fire,
+and his robust, yet slender figure announced an active, energetic
+nature. A civil engineer, a man of science and study, as capable of
+solving difficult problems with the pen as of handling the file and the
+iron hammer; knowing how to command as well as to execute; honouring and
+elevating manual labour and sometimes practising it, whether by example
+or encouragement; scrupulously just; loyal and confiding almost to
+temerity; paternal, firm and impartial toward his numerous workmen;
+possessing an antique simplicity of manner; enthusiastic in labour, and
+in love with his creatures of iron and copper and steel, his life was
+divided between the three great things which constitute the happiness of
+man,--love, family, and labour.
+
+Charles Dutertre had only one sorrow, the blindness of his father, and
+yet this affliction was the opportunity for such tender devotion, such
+delicate and constant care, that Dutertre and his wife endeavoured to
+console themselves in the thought that it enabled them to prove to the
+old man their affection and fidelity. Notwithstanding the preparations
+for the approaching festivity, Charles Dutertre had postponed shaving
+until the next day, and his working suit which he kept on showed here
+and there upon the gray cloth spots and stains and burns which gave
+evidence of his contact with the forge. His forehead was high and
+noble-looking, his hands, which were white and nervous, were somewhat
+blackened by the smoke of the workshops. He seemed to forget, in his
+laborious and untiring activity, or in the refreshing repose which
+succeeded it, that personal care which some men very properly never
+renounce.
+
+Such were the persons assembled in the modest parlour of the little
+home. The two children, chatting incessantly and at the same time, tried
+to make themselves understood by their grandfather, who responded with
+the best will in the world, and, smiling sweetly, would ask them:
+
+"What did you say, my little Augustus, and what do you say, my little
+Madeleine?"
+
+"Will madame the interpreter have the kindness to translate this pretty
+chirping into common language?" said Charles Dutertre to his wife, as he
+laughed merrily.
+
+"Why, Charles, do you not understand?"
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"Do you not understand the children, father?" said she to the old man.
+
+"I thought I heard something about Sunday dress," said the old man,
+smiling, "but it was so complicated that I gave up all hope of
+comprehending it."
+
+"It was something very like that,--come, come, only mothers and
+grandfathers understand little children," said Sophie, triumphantly.
+
+Then turning to the children, she said:
+
+"My dears, did you not say to your grandfather, 'To-day is Sunday
+because we have on our pretty new clothes'?"
+
+The little blonde Madeleine opened her great blue eyes wide, and bowed
+her curly head in the affirmative.
+
+"You are the Champollion of mothers!" cried Charles Dutertre, while the
+old man said to the two children:
+
+"No, to-day is not Sunday, my children, but it is a feast-day."
+
+Here Sophie was obliged to interfere again, and translate.
+
+"They ask why it is a feast-day, father."
+
+"Because we are going to have a friend visit us, and when a friend comes
+to see us, it is always a feast," replied the old man, with a smile
+somewhat constrained.
+
+"Ah, we must not forget the purse," said Dutertre to his wife.
+
+"Wait a moment," replied Sophie, gaily, to her husband, as she pointed
+to a little rose-coloured box on the table, "do you think that I, any
+more than you, could forget our good M. Pascal, our worthy benefactor?"
+
+The grandfather, turning to little Madeleine, said, as he kissed her
+brow:
+
+"We are expecting M. Pascal,--you know M. Pascal."
+
+Madeleine again opened her great blue eyes; her face took on an
+expression almost of fear, and shaking her little curly head sadly, she
+said:
+
+"He is bad."
+
+"M. Pascal?" said Sophie.
+
+"Oh, yes, very bad!" replied the child.
+
+"But," said the young mother, "my dear Madeleine, why do you think that
+M. Pascal is bad?"
+
+"Come, Sophie," said Charles Dutertre, smiling, "you are not going to
+stop to listen to this childish talk about our worthy friend, are you?"
+
+Strange enough, the old man's countenance at once assumed a vague
+expression of disquietude, and whether he trusted the instinct and
+penetration of children, or whether he was influenced by another
+thought, far from making a jest of Madeleine's words, as his son did, he
+leaned over the child, and said:
+
+"Tell us, my child, why M. Pascal is bad."
+
+The little blonde shook her head, and said, innocently:
+
+"Don't know,--but, very sure, he is bad."
+
+Sophie, who felt a good deal like the grandfather on the subject of the
+wonderful sagacity of children, could not overcome a slight feeling of
+alarm, for there are secret, mysterious relations between a mother and
+the children of her blood. An indefinable presentiment, against which
+Sophie struggled with all her strength, because she thought it absurd
+and foolish, told her that the little girl had made no mistake in
+reading the character of M. Pascal, although she had heretofore esteemed
+him as the impersonation of goodness and generosity.
+
+Charles Dutertre, never suspecting the impressions of his wife and
+father, replied, smiling:
+
+"Now it is my turn to give a lesson to this grandfather and this mother,
+who pretend to understand the prattle and feeling of children so well.
+Our excellent friend has a rough exterior, heavy eyebrows, and a black
+beard and dark skin and unprepossessing speech; he is, in a word, a sort
+of benevolent churl, but he does not deserve the name of bad, even upon
+the authority of this little blonde."
+
+At this moment the servant entered, and said to her mistress:
+
+"Madame, Mlle. Hubert is here with her maid, and--"
+
+"Antonine? What good fortune!" said Sophie, rising immediately, and
+going to meet the young girl.
+
+"Madame," added the servant, mysteriously, "Agatha wants to know if M.
+Pascal likes his peas with sugar or bacon?"
+
+"Charles!" called Sophie, merrily, to her husband, "this is a grave
+question, what do you think of it?"
+
+"Make one dish of peas with sugar, and the other with bacon," replied
+Charles, thoughtfully.
+
+"It takes mathematicians to solve problems," replied Sophie, then,
+taking her children by the hand, she added: "I want Antonine to see how
+large and pretty they are."
+
+"But I hope you will persuade Mlle. Hubert to come in, or I must go
+after her."
+
+"I am going to take the children to their nurse, and I will return with
+Antonine."
+
+"Charles," said the old man, rising, when the young woman had
+disappeared, "give me your arm, please."
+
+"Certainly, father; but M. Pascal will arrive before long."
+
+"And you insist upon my being present, my son?"
+
+"You know, father, all the respect that our friend has for you, and how
+glad he is to show it to you."
+
+After a moment's silence, the old man replied:
+
+"Do you know that, since you have dismissed your old cashier,
+Marcelange, he often visits M. Pascal?"
+
+"This is the first time I have heard it."
+
+"Does it not seem singular to you?"
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+"Listen to me, Charles, I--"
+
+"I beg your pardon, father," replied Dutertre, interrupting the old man,
+"now I think of it, nothing is more natural; I have not seen our friend
+since I sent Marcelange away; Marcelange knows of our friendship for M.
+Pascal, and he perhaps has gone to see him, to beg him to intercede with
+me for him."
+
+"It can be so explained," said the old man, thoughtfully. "Yet--"
+
+"Well, father?"
+
+"Your little girl's impression struck me forcibly."
+
+"Come, father," replied Dutertre, smiling, "you say that to compliment
+my wife. Unfortunately, she is not present to hear you. But I will
+report your gallantry to her."
+
+"I say so, Charles," replied the old man, in a solemn tone, "because, as
+childish as it may appear, your little girl's impression seems to me to
+have a certain weight, and when I recall some other circumstances, and
+think of the frequent interviews between Marcelange and M. Pascal, I
+confess to you that I feel in spite of myself a vague distrust of your
+friend."
+
+"Oh, father, father," replied Charles Dutertre, with emotion, "of course
+you do not mean it, but you distress me very much. Doubt our generous
+benefactor, M. Pascal! Ah, banish your suspicions, father, for this is
+the first sorrow I have felt in a long time. To suspect without proof,
+to be influenced by the passing impression of a little child," added
+Dutertre, with all the warmth of his natural generosity, "that is
+unjust, indeed!"
+
+"Charles!" said the old man, wounded by his son's resentment.
+
+"Oh, pardon me, pardon me, father," cried Dutertre, taking the old man's
+hands in his own, "I was too quick, forgive me; for a moment friendship
+spoke louder than my respect for you."
+
+"My poor Charles," replied the old man, affectionately, "Heaven grant
+that you may be right in differing from me, and, far from complaining of
+your readiness to defend a friend, I am glad of it. But I hear some one
+coming,--take me back to my room."
+
+At the moment M. Dutertre closed the door of the chamber where he had
+conducted the blind man, Mlle. Hubert entered the parlour accompanied by
+Madame Dutertre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Notwithstanding the triteness of the mythological comparison, we must be
+pardoned for saying that never Hebe, the cupbearer to the gods of
+Olympus, in all the brilliancy of her superhuman beauty, united in
+herself more resplendent charms than did, in her terrestrial loveliness,
+the modest maiden, Antonine Hubert, whose love secret with Frantz M.
+Pascal had surprised.
+
+What seemed most attractive in this young girl was the beauty of fifteen
+years and a half which combined the grace and freshness of the child
+with the budding charms of young womanhood,--enchanting age, still full
+of mysteries and chaste ignorances, a pure dawn, white and transparent,
+that the first palpitations of an innocent love would colour with the
+exquisite tint of the full-blown rose.
+
+Such was the age of Antonine, and she had the charm and all the charms
+of that age.
+
+To humanise our Hebe, we will make her descend from her pedestal, and,
+veiling her delicate and beautiful form, will clothe her in an elegant
+summer robe; a black silk mantle will hide the exquisite contour of her
+bust, and a straw hat, lined with silk as rosy as her cheeks, allowing
+us a view of her chestnut tresses, will serve as a frame for the oval
+face, as fresh, as fair, and as soft as that of the child she has just
+embraced.
+
+As she entered the parlour with Sophie, mademoiselle blushed slightly,
+for she had the timidity of her fifteen years; then, put at ease by the
+cordial reception of Dutertre and his wife, she said to the latter, with
+a sort of deference drawn from their old relations of child and mother,
+as they were called in the boarding-school where they had been brought
+up together:
+
+"You do not know the good fortune which brings me here, Sophie."
+
+"A good fortune!--so much the better, my little Antonine!"
+
+"A letter from St. Madeleine," replied the young girl, drawing an
+envelope from her pocket.
+
+"Really!" exclaimed Sophie, blushing with joy and surprise, as she
+reached her hand impatiently for the letter.
+
+"What, Mlle. Antonine," said Charles Dutertre, laughing, "you are in
+correspondence with paradise? Though if it is true I ought not to be
+astonished, inasmuch--"
+
+"Be silent, M. Tease," interrupted Sophie, "and do not make jokes about
+Antonine's and my best friend."
+
+"I will be careful,--but what is the meaning of this name, St.
+Madeleine?"
+
+"Why, Charles, have I not told you a thousand times about my school
+friend, Madeleine Silveyra, who is godmother by proxy of our little one?
+What are you thinking of?"
+
+"I have a very good memory, my dear Sophie," replied Dutertre, "because
+I have not forgotten that this young Mexican had such a singular kind of
+beauty that she inspired as much surprise as admiration."
+
+"The very same lady, my dear; after me, Madeleine acted as a mother to
+Antonine, as we said at school, where each large girl had the care of a
+child from ten to eleven years old; so, when I left school, I confided
+dear Antonine to the affection of St. Madeleine."
+
+"It is just that surname which was the cause of my mistake," replied
+Dutertre, "a surname which seems to me very ambitious or very humble for
+such a pretty person, for she must be near your age."
+
+"They gave Madeleine the name of saint at school because she deserved
+it, M. Dutertre," replied Antonine, with all the seriousness of fifteen
+years, "and while she was my little mother they continued to call her
+St. Madeleine, as they did in Sophie's time."
+
+"Was this Mlle. St. Madeleine a very austere devotee?" asked Dutertre.
+
+"Madeleine, like all people of her country,--we gave our French form to
+her name of Magdalena,--gave herself to a particular devotion. She had
+chosen the Christ, and her adoration for her Saviour became an ecstasy,"
+replied Sophie; "besides, she united to this enthusiastic devotion the
+warmest heart and the most interesting, enjoyable mind in the world. But
+I pray you, Charles, let me read her letter. I am impatient. Just
+imagine, the first letter after two years of separation! Antonine and I
+felt a little bitter at her silence, but you see the first remembrance
+we receive from her disarms us."
+
+And taking the letter which Antonine had just given her, Sophie read,
+with an emotion which increased with every line.
+
+"Dear Madeleine, always tender and affectionate, always witty and
+bright, always so appreciative of any remembrance of the past. After a
+few days' rest at Marseilles, where she has arrived from Venice, she
+comes to Paris, almost at the same time her letter arrives, and she
+thinks only of the happiness of seeing Sophie, her friend, and her
+little girl Antonine, and she writes in haste to both of us, and signs
+herself as of old, St. Madeleine."
+
+"Then she is not married?" asked Charles Dutertre.
+
+"I do not know, my dear," replied his wife, "she signs only her
+baptismal name."
+
+"But why should I ask such an absurd question?--think of a married
+saint!"
+
+At that moment the servant entered, and, stopping on the threshold of
+the door, made a significant sign to her mistress, who replied:
+
+"You can speak, Julie, Mlle. Antonine is a part of the family."
+
+"Madame," said the servant, "Agatha wants to know if she must put the
+chicken on the spit if M. Pascal does not come?"
+
+"Certainly," said Madame Dutertre, "M. Pascal is a little late, but we
+expect him every minute."
+
+"You are expecting some one, then, Sophie?" asked Antonine, when the
+servant retired. "Well, good-bye, I will see you again," added the young
+girl, with a sigh. "I did not come only to bring St. Madeleine's letter,
+I wanted to have a long chat with you. I will see you again to-morrow,
+dear Sophie."
+
+"Not at all, my little Antonine. I use my authority as mother to keep my
+dear little girl and have her breakfast with us. It is a sort of family
+feast. Is it because your place was not ready, my child?"
+
+"Come, Mlle. Antonine," said Charles, "do us the kindness to stay."
+
+"You are a thousand times too good, M. Dutertre, but, really, I cannot
+accept."
+
+"Then," replied he, "I am going to employ the greatest means of seducing
+you; in a word, if you will stay, you shall see the generous man who, of
+his own accord, came to our rescue this day a year ago, for this is the
+anniversary of that noble action that we are celebrating to-day."
+
+Sophie, having forgotten the presentiment awakened in her mind by the
+words of her little girl, added:
+
+"Yes, my little Antonine, at the very moment, the critical moment, when
+ruin threatened our business, M. Pascal said to Charles: 'Monsieur, I do
+not know you personally, but I know you are as just as you are laborious
+and intelligent; you need fifty thousand to put your business in a good
+condition. I offer it to you as a friend, accept it as a friend; as to
+interest, we will estimate that afterward, and still as a friend.'"
+
+"That was to act nobly, indeed!" said Antonine.
+
+"Yes," said Charles Dutertre, with profound emotion, "for it is not only
+my industry which he has saved, but it was the labour of the numerous
+workmen I employ, it was the repose of my father's old age, the
+happiness of my wife, the future of my children. Oh, stay with us, stay,
+Mlle. Antonine, the sight of such a good man is so rare, so sweet--But
+wait, there he is!" exclaimed M. Dutertre, as he saw M. Pascal pass the
+parlour window.
+
+"I am much impressed with all Sophie and you have told me, M. Dutertre,
+and I regret I cannot see this generous man to whom you owe so much, but
+breakfast would detain me too long. I must return early. My uncle
+expects me, and he has passed a very painful night; in these attacks of
+suffering he always wants me near him, and these attacks come at any
+time."
+
+Then, taking Sophie by the hand, the young girl added:
+
+"Can I see you again soon?"
+
+"To-morrow or day after, my dear little Antonine, I am coming to see
+you, and we will talk as long as you like."
+
+The door opened; M. Pascal entered.
+
+Antonine embraced her friend, and Sophie said to the financier, with
+affectionate cordiality:
+
+"Permit me, will you not, M. Pascal, to take leave of mademoiselle. I
+need not say that I will hasten to return."
+
+"No need of ceremony, my dear Madame Dutertre," stammered M. Pascal, in
+spite of his assurance astonished to see Antonine again, and he followed
+her with an intense, surly gaze until she had left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+M. Pascal, at the sight of Antonine, whom he saw for the second time
+that morning, was, as we have said, a moment bewildered with surprise
+and admiration before this fresh and innocent beauty.
+
+"At last, here you are!" said Charles Dutertre, effusively extending
+both hands to M. Pascal when he found himself alone with him. "Do you
+know we were beginning to question your promptness? All the week my wife
+and I have looked forward with joy to this day, for, after the
+anniversary of the birth of our children, the day that we celebrate with
+the most pleasure is the one from which dates, thanks to you, the
+security of their future. It is so good, so sweet to feel, by the
+gratitude of our hearts, the lofty nobleness of those generous deeds
+which honour him who offers as much as him who accepts."
+
+M. Pascal did not appear to have heard the words of M. Dutertre, and
+said to him:
+
+"Who is that young girl who just went out of here?"
+
+"Mlle. Antonine Hubert."
+
+"Is she related to President Hubert, who has lately been so ill?"
+
+"She is his niece."
+
+"Ah!" said Pascal, thoughtfully.
+
+"You know if my father were not with us," replied M. Dutertre, smiling,
+"our little festivity would not be complete. I am going to inform him of
+your arrival, my dear M. Pascal."
+
+And as he stepped to the door of the old man's chamber, M. Pascal
+stopped him with a gesture, and said:
+
+"Does not President Hubert reside--"
+
+And as he hesitated, Dutertre added:
+
+"In Faubourg St. Honore. The garden joins that of the Elysee-Bourbon."
+
+"Has this young girl lived with her uncle long?"
+
+Dutertre, quite surprised at this persistent inquiry concerning
+Antonine, answered:
+
+"About three months ago M. Hubert went to Nice for Antonine, where she
+lived after the death of her parents."
+
+"And is Madame Dutertre very intimate with this young person?"
+
+"They were together at boarding-school, where Sophie was a sort of
+mother to her, and ever since they have been upon the most affectionate
+terms."
+
+"Ah!" said Pascal, again relapsing into deep thought.
+
+This man possessed a great and rare faculty which had contributed to the
+accumulation of his immense fortune,--he could with perfect ease detach
+himself from any line of thought, and enter upon a totally different set
+of ideas. Thus, after the interview of Frantz and Antonine which he had
+surprised, and which had excited him so profoundly, he was able to talk
+with the archduke upon business affairs, and to torture him with
+deliberate malice.
+
+In the same way, after this meeting with Antonine at the house of
+Dutertre, he postponed, so to speak, his violent resentment and his
+plans regarding the young girl, and said, with perfect good-nature, to
+Sophie's husband:
+
+"While we wait for the return of your wife, I have a little favour to
+ask of you."
+
+"At last!" exclaimed Dutertre, rubbing his hands with evident
+satisfaction; "better late than never."
+
+"You had a cashier named Marcelange?"
+
+"Yes, unfortunately."
+
+"Unfortunately?"
+
+"He committed, while in my employ, not an act of dishonesty, for I
+should not, at any price, have saved him from the punishment he merited;
+but he was guilty of an indelicacy under circumstances which proved to
+me that the man was a wretch, and I dismissed him."
+
+"Marcelange told me, in fact, that you sent him away."
+
+"You are acquainted with him?" replied Dutertre, in surprise, as he
+recalled his father's words.
+
+"Some days ago he came to see me. He wished to get a position in the
+Durand house."
+
+"He? Among such honourable people?"
+
+"Why not? He was employed by you."
+
+"But, as I have told you, my dear M. Pascal, I sent him away as soon as
+his conduct was known to me."
+
+"I understand perfectly. Only, as he is without a position, he must
+have, in order to enter the Durand house, a letter of recommendation
+from you, as the Durands are not willing to accept the poor fellow
+otherwise; now this letter, my dear Dutertre, I come honestly to ask of
+you."
+
+After a moment of astonishment, Dutertre said, with a smile:
+
+"After all, I ought not to be astonished. You are so kind! This man is
+full of artifice and falsity, and knows how to take advantage of your
+confidence."
+
+"I believe, really, that Marcelange is very false, very sly; but that
+need not prevent your giving me the letter I ask."
+
+Dutertre could not believe that he had heard aright, or that he
+understood M. Pascal, and replied:
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir. I have just told you that--"
+
+"You have reason to complain of an act of indelicacy on the part of
+this fellow, but, bah! what does that matter?"
+
+"What! M. Pascal, you ask, what does it matter? Know then, that, in my
+eyes, this man's act was even more blamable than fraud in money
+matters."
+
+"I believe you, my dear Dutertre, I believe you; there is no better
+judge of honourable dealing than yourself. Marcelange seems to me truly
+a cunning rascal, and, if I must tell you, it is on that account that I
+insist--insist very much on his being recommended by you."
+
+"Honestly, M. Pascal, I believe that I should be acting a dishonourable
+part in aiding the entrance of Marcelange into a thoroughly respectable
+house."
+
+"Come, now, do this for me!"
+
+"You are not speaking seriously, M. Pascal?"
+
+"I am speaking very seriously."
+
+"After what I have just confided to you?"
+
+"My God! yes, why not?"
+
+"You! you! honour and loyalty itself!"
+
+"I, the impersonation of honour and loyalty, ask you to give me this
+letter."
+
+Dutertre looked at M. Pascal, bewildered; then, after a moment's
+reflection, he replied, in a tone of affectionate reproach:
+
+"Ah, sir, after a year has elapsed, was this proof necessary?"
+
+"What proof?"
+
+"To propose an unworthy action to me, that you might feel assured that I
+deserved your confidence."
+
+"My dear Dutertre, I repeat to you that I must have this letter. It
+concerns an affair which is very important to me."
+
+M. Pascal was speaking seriously. Dutertre could no longer doubt it. He
+then remembered the words of his father, the antipathy of his little
+girl, and, seized with a vague dread, he replied, in a constrained
+voice:
+
+"So, monsieur, you forget the grave responsibility which would rest upon
+me if I did what you desire."
+
+"Eh, my God! my brave Dutertre, if we only asked easy things of our
+friends!"
+
+"You ask of me an impossible thing, monsieur."
+
+"So, then, you refuse to do it for me, do you?"
+
+"M. Pascal," said Dutertre, with an accent at the same time firm and
+full of emotion, "I owe you everything. There is not a day that I, my
+wife, and my father do not recall the fact that, one year ago, without
+your unexpected succour, our own ruin, and the ruin of many other
+people, would have been inevitable. All that gratitude can inspire of
+respect and affection we feel for you. Every possible proof of devotion
+we are ready to give you with pleasure, with happiness, but--"
+
+"One word more, and you will understand me," interrupted M. Pascal.
+"Since I must tell you, Dutertre, I have a special interest in having
+some one who belongs to me--entirely to me, you understand, entirely
+mine--in the business house of Durand. Now, you can comprehend that,
+holding Marcelange by this letter which you will give me for him, and by
+what I know of his antecedents, I can make him my creature, my blind
+instrument. This is entirely between us, my dear Dutertre, and, counting
+on your absolute discretion, I will go further even, and I will tell you
+that--"
+
+"Not a word more on this subject, sir, I beg," exclaimed Dutertre, with
+increasing surprise and distress, for up to that time he had believed
+Pascal to be a man of incorruptible integrity. "Not a word more. There
+are secrets whose confidence one does not wish to accept."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because they might become very embarrassing, sir."
+
+"Really! The confidences of an old friend can become an annoyance! Very
+well, I will keep them. Then, give me this letter without any more
+explanations."
+
+"I repeat to you, sir, that it is impossible for me to do so."
+
+M. Pascal bit his lips and unconsciously knit his eyebrows; as surprised
+as he was angry at the refusal of Dutertre, he could scarcely believe
+that a man who was dependent upon him could have the audacity to oppose
+his will, or the courage to sacrifice the present and the future to a
+scruple of honour.
+
+However, as he had a special interest in this letter, he replied, with a
+tone of affectionate reproach:
+
+"What! You refuse me that, my dear Dutertre,--refuse me, your friend?"
+
+"I refuse you above all,--you who have had faith enough in my
+incorruptible honesty to advance for me, without even knowing me, a
+considerable amount."
+
+"Come, my dear Dutertre, do not make me more adventurous than I am. Are
+not your honesty, your intelligence, your interest even, and at any rate
+the material in your factory, sufficient security for my capital? Am I
+not always in a safe position, by the right I reserve to myself, to
+exact repayment at will? A right which I will not exercise in your case
+for a long time, as I know. I am too much interested in you to do that,
+Dutertre," as he saw astonishment and anguish depicted in Dutertre's
+face, "but, indeed, let us suppose,--oh, it will not come to that, thank
+God,--but let us suppose that, in the constrained condition and trying
+crisis in which business is at present, I should say to you to-day, M.
+Dutertre, I shall need my money in a month, and I withdraw my credit
+from you."
+
+"Great God!" exclaimed Dutertre, terrified, staggered at the bare
+supposition of such a disaster, "I would go into bankruptcy! It would be
+my ruin, the loss of my business; I would be obliged, perhaps, to work
+with my own hands, if I could find employment, to support my infirm
+father, my wife, and my children."
+
+"Will you be silent, you wicked man, and not put such painful things
+before my eyes! You are going to spoil my whole day!" exclaimed M.
+Pascal, with irresistible good-nature, taking Dutertre's hands in his
+own. "Do you speak in this way, when I, like you, am making a festivity
+of this morning? Well, well, what is the matter? How pale you look,
+now!"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said Dutertre, wiping the drops of cold sweat
+from his brow, "but at the very thought of such an unexpected blow which
+would strike all that I hold dearest in the world, my honour, my family,
+my labour--Ah, yes, monsieur, you are right, let us drive this thought
+far from us, it is too horrible."
+
+"Eh! my God, that is just what I was saying to you; do not let us make
+this charming day a sad one. So, to finish the matter," added M. Pascal,
+cheerfully, "let us hurry over business affairs, let us empty our bag,
+as the saying is. Give me this letter, and we will talk no more about
+it."
+
+Dutertre started, a frightful pain wrung his heart, and he replied:
+
+"Such persistence astonishes and distresses me, monsieur. I repeat to
+you it is absolutely impossible for me to do what you ask."
+
+"What a child you are! my persistent request proves to you how much
+importance I attach to this affair."
+
+"That may be, monsieur."
+
+"And why do I attach such importance to it, my brave Dutertre? It is
+because this matter interests you as well as myself."
+
+"What do you mean, monsieur?"
+
+"Eh! without doubt. My combination with the house of Durand failing,
+since your refusal would prevent my employing this knave Marcelange, as
+I desire (you do not wish to know my secrets, so I am forced to keep
+them), perhaps I should be compelled for certain reasons," added M.
+Pascal, pronouncing his words slowly, and looking at his victim with a
+sharp, cold eye, "I say, perhaps I should be compelled--and it would
+draw the blood from my heart--to demand the repayment of my capital, and
+withdraw my credit from you."
+
+"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Dutertre, clasping his hands and looking as pale
+as a ghost.
+
+"So you see, bad man, in what an atrocious position you put yourself.
+Force me to an action which, I repeat to you, would tear my soul--"
+
+"But, monsieur, a moment ago you assured me that--"
+
+"Zounds! my intention would be to let you keep this wretched capital as
+long as possible. You pay me the interest with remarkable punctuality,
+it was perfectly well placed, and, thanks to our terms of liquidation,
+you would have been free in ten years, and I should have made a good
+investment in doing you a service."
+
+"Really, monsieur," murmured Dutertre, overwhelmed, "such were your
+promises, if not written, at least verbal, and the generosity of your
+offer, the loyalty of your character, all gave me perfect confidence.
+God grant that I may not have to consider myself the most rash, the most
+stupid man, to have trusted your word!"
+
+"As to that, Dutertre, you can be at peace with yourself; at that period
+of commercial crisis, at least as terrible as it is to-day, you could
+not have found anywhere the capital that I offered you at such a
+moderate rate."
+
+"I know it, monsieur."
+
+"Then you can, and you must, indeed, by sheer force of necessity, accept
+the condition I put upon this loan."
+
+"But, monsieur," cried Dutertre, with inexpressible alarm, "I appeal to
+your honour! You have expressly promised me that--"
+
+"Eh, my God, yes, I promised you, saving the superior force of events;
+and unfortunately your refusal to give this poor little letter creates
+an event of stronger force which places me in the painful--the grievous
+necessity of asking you for repayment of my money."
+
+"But, monsieur, it is an unworthy action that you ask me to do, think of
+it."
+
+At this moment was heard the sweet ringing laughter of Sophie, who was
+approaching the parlour.
+
+"Ah, monsieur," said her husband, "not a word of this before my wife,
+because it may not be your final resolve. I hope that--"
+
+Charles Dutertre could not finish, because Sophie had entered the
+parlour.
+
+The unhappy man could only make a supplicating gesture to Pascal, who
+responded to it by a sign of sympathetic intelligence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When Sophie Dutertre entered the parlour, where were seated her husband
+and M. Pascal, the gracious countenance of the young woman, more flushed
+than usual, the light throbbing of her bosom, and her moist eyes, all
+testified to a recent fit of hilarious laughter.
+
+"Ah, ah, Madame Dutertre!" said M. Pascal, cheerfully. "I heard you
+distinctly; you were laughing like a lunatic."
+
+Then, turning to Dutertre, who was trying to hide his intense distress
+and to hold on to a last hope, he said:
+
+"How gay happiness makes these young women! Nothing like the sight of
+them puts joy in the heart, does it, my brave Dutertre?"
+
+"I was laughing in spite of myself, I assure you, my dear M. Pascal,"
+replied Sophie.
+
+"In spite of yourself?" answered our hero. "Why, does some sorrow--"
+
+"Sorrow? Oh, no, thank God! But I was more disposed to tenderness than
+gaiety. This dear Antonine, if you only knew her, Charles," added the
+young woman, with sweet emotion, addressing her husband. "I cannot tell
+you how she has moved me, what a pure, touching confession she has made
+to me, for the heart of the poor child was too full, and she could not
+go away without telling me all."
+
+And a tear of sympathy moistened Sophie's beautiful eyes.
+
+At the name of Antonine, M. Pascal, notwithstanding his great control
+over himself, started. His thoughts concerning this young girl, for a
+moment postponed, returned more ardent, more persistent than ever, and
+as Sophie was wiping her eyes he threw upon her a penetrating glance,
+trying to divine what he might hope from her, in reference to the plan
+he meditated.
+
+Sophie soon spoke, addressing her husband:
+
+"But, Charles,--I will relate it all to you, after awhile,--while I was
+absorbed in thinking of my interview with Antonine, my little Madeleine
+came to me, and said in her baby language such ridiculous things that I
+could not keep from bursting into laughter. But, pardon me, M. Pascal,
+your heart will understand and excuse, I know, all a mother's weakness."
+
+"Do you say that to me," replied Pascal, cordially, "a bachelor,--you
+say it to me, a good old fellow?"
+
+"That is true," added Sophie, affectionately, "but we love you so much
+here, you see, that we think you are right to call yourself a good old
+fellow. Ask Charles if he will contradict my words."
+
+Dutertre replied with a constrained smile, and he had the strength and
+the courage to restrain his feelings before his wife to such a degree
+that she, occupied with M. Pascal, had not the least suspicion of her
+husband's anxiety. So, going to the table and taking up the purse she
+had embroidered, she presented it to M. Pascal, and said to him, in a
+voice full of emotion:
+
+"My dear M. Pascal, this purse is the fruit of my evening
+work,--evenings that I have spent here with my husband, with his
+excellent father, and with my children. If each one of these little
+steel beads could speak, all would tell you how many times your name has
+been pronounced among us, with all the affection and gratitude it
+deserves."
+
+"Ah, thank you, thank you, my dear Madame Dutertre," replied Pascal, "I
+cannot tell you how much I appreciate this pretty present, this lovely
+remembrance,--only, you see, it embarrasses me a little."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"You come to give me something, and I came to ask you something."
+
+"What happiness! Ask, ask, by all means, dear M. Pascal."
+
+Then turning to her husband, with surprise, she said:
+
+"Charles, what are you doing there, seated before that desk?"
+
+"M. Pascal will excuse me. I just recollected that I had neglected to
+examine some notes relative to important business," replied Dutertre,
+turning the leaves of some papers, to keep himself in countenance, and
+to hide from his wife, to whom he had turned his back, the pain which
+showed itself in his face.
+
+"My dear," said Sophie, in a tone of tender reproach; "can you not lay
+aside work now and wait until--"
+
+"Madame Dutertre, I shall rebel if you disturb your husband on my
+account," cried M. Pascal, "do I not know the exactness of business?
+Come, come, happy woman that you are, thanks to the indefatigable labour
+of brave Dutertre, who stands to-day at the head of his business."
+
+"And who has encouraged him in his zeal for work, but you, M. Pascal? If
+Charles is as you say at the head of his industry, if our future and
+that of our children is ever assured, do we not owe it to you?"
+
+"My dear Madame Dutertre, you confuse me so that I shall not know how to
+ask the little service I expect from you."
+
+"Oh, I forgot it," replied Sophie, smiling, "but we were speaking of
+more important services that you have rendered us, were we not? But tell
+us quick, quick,--what is it?" said the young woman, with an eagerness
+which gave her an additional charm.
+
+"What I am going to tell you will surprise you, perhaps?"
+
+"So much the better, I adore surprises."
+
+"Ah, well, the isolation of bachelor life weighs upon me, and--"
+
+"And?"
+
+"I wish to get married."
+
+"Truly!"
+
+"Does it astonish you? I am sure it does."
+
+"You are entirely mistaken, for in my opinion you ought to get married."
+
+"Pray, why?"
+
+"How often I have said to myself, sooner or later this good M. Pascal,
+who lives so much by his heart, will enjoy the sweets of family life,
+and, if I must confess my vain presumption," added Sophie, "I said to
+myself, it is impossible that the sight of the happiness Charles and I
+enjoy should not some day suggest the idea of marriage to M. Pascal.
+Now, was I not happy in foreseeing your intention?"
+
+"Have your triumph, then, dear Madame Dutertre, because, in fact,
+seduced by your example and that of your husband, I desire to make, as
+you two did, a marriage of love."
+
+"Can any other marriage be possible?" replied Sophie, shrugging her
+shoulders with a most graceful movement, and, without reflecting upon
+the thirty-eight years of M. Pascal, she added:
+
+"And you are loved?"
+
+"My God, that depends on you."
+
+"On me?"
+
+"Absolutely."
+
+"On me?" exclaimed Sophie, with increasing surprise. "Do you hear,
+Charles, what M. Pascal says."
+
+"I hear," replied Dutertre, who, not less astonished than his wife, was
+listening with involuntary anxiety.
+
+"How can I, M. Pascal, how can I make you loved?" asked Sophie.
+
+"You can do so, my dear Madame Dutertre."
+
+"Although it seems incomprehensible to me, bless God for it. If I have
+the magic power you attribute to me, my dear M. Pascal," replied Sophie,
+with her sweetest smile, "then you will be loved, as you deserve to be."
+
+"Counting on your promise, then, I will not travel four roads, but
+confess at once, my dear Madame Dutertre, that I am in love with Mlle.
+Antonine Hubert."
+
+"Antonine!" exclaimed Sophie, astounded; while Dutertre, seated before
+his desk, turned abruptly to his wife, whose astonishment he shared.
+
+"Antonine!" replied Sophie, as if she could not believe what she had
+heard. "You love Antonine!"
+
+"Yes, it is she. I met her to-day in your house, for the fourth time,
+only I have never spoken to her. However, my mind is made up, for I am
+one of those people who decide quickly and by instinct. For instance,
+when it was necessary for me to come to the aid of this brave Dutertre,
+the thing was done in two hours. Well, the ravishing beauty of Mlle.
+Antonine, the purity of her face, a something, I know not what, tells me
+that this young person has the best qualities in the world,--all has
+contributed to render me madly in love with her, and to desire in a
+marriage of love, like yours, my dear Madame Dutertre, that inward
+happiness, those joys of the heart, that you believe me worthy of
+knowing and enjoying."
+
+"Monsieur," said Sophie, with painful embarrassment, "permit me--"
+
+"One word more, it is love at first sight, you will say,--that may be,
+but there are twenty examples of love as sudden as they are deep.
+Besides, as I have told you, I am plainly a man of instinct, of
+presentiment; with a single glance of the eye, I have always judged a
+thing good or bad. Why should I not follow in marriage a method which
+has always perfectly succeeded with me? I have told you that it depends
+entirely on you to make Mlle. Antonine love me. I will explain. At
+fifteen years, and she seems hardly to be so old as that, young girls
+have no wills of their own. You have acted as mother to Mlle. Antonine,
+as Dutertre has told me; you possess great influence over her, nothing
+would be more easy, by talking to her of me in a certain manner, when
+you shall have presented me to her, and that can be not later than
+to-morrow, can it not? I repeat, it will be easy for you to induce her
+to share my love, and to marry me. If I owe you this happiness, my dear
+Madame Dutertre, wait and see," added Pascal, with a tone full of
+emotion and sincerity. "You speak of gratitude? Well, that which you
+have toward me would be ingratitude, compared with what I would feel
+toward you!"
+
+Sophie had listened to M. Pascal with as much grief as surprise; for she
+believed, and she had reason to believe, in the reality of the love, or
+rather the ardent desire for possession that this man felt; so she
+replied, with deep feeling, for it cost her much to disappoint hopes
+which seemed to her honourable:
+
+"My poor M. Pascal, you must see that I am distressed not to be able to
+render you the first service you ask of me. I need not tell you how
+deeply I regret it."
+
+"What is impossible in it?"
+
+"Believe me, do not think of this marriage."
+
+"Does not Mlle. Antonine deserve--"
+
+"Antonine is an angel. I have known her from infancy. There is not a
+better heart, a better character, in the world."
+
+"What you tell me, my dear Madame Dutertre, would suffice to augment my
+desire, if that could be done."
+
+"I say again, this marriage is impossible."
+
+"Well, tell me why."
+
+"In the first place, think of it, Antonine is only fifteen and a half,
+and you--"
+
+"I am thirty-eight. Is it that?"
+
+"The difference of age is very great, you must confess, and as I would
+not advise my daughter or my sister to make a marriage so
+disproportionate, I cannot advise Antonine to do so, because I would not
+at any price make your unhappiness or hers."
+
+"Oh, make yourself easy! I will answer for my own happiness."
+
+"And that of Antonine?"
+
+"Bah! bah! for a few years, more or less--"
+
+"I married for love, my dear M. Pascal. I do not comprehend other
+marriages. Perhaps it is wrong, but indeed I think so, and I ought to
+tell you so, since you consult me."
+
+"According to you, then, I am not capable of pleasing Mlle. Antonine?"
+
+"I believe that, like Charles and myself, and like all generous hearts,
+she would appreciate the nobility of your character, but--"
+
+"Permit me again, my dear Madame Dutertre,--a child of fifteen years has
+no settled ideas on the subject of marriage; and Mlle. Antonine has a
+blind confidence in you. Present me to her; tell her all sorts of good
+about the good man, Pascal. The affair is sure,--if you wish to do it,
+you can."
+
+"Hear me, my dear M. Pascal, this conversation grieves me more than I
+can tell you, and to put an end to it I will trust a secret to your
+discretion and your loyalty."
+
+"Very well, what is this secret?"
+
+"Antonine loves, and is loved. Ah, M. Pascal, nothing could be purer or
+more affecting than this love, and, for many reasons, I am certain it
+will assure Antonine's happiness. Her uncle's health is precarious, and
+should the poor child lose him she would be obliged to live with
+relatives who, not without reason, inspire her with aversion. Once
+married according to the dictate of her heart, she can hope for a happy
+future, for her warm affection is nobly placed. You must see, then, my
+dear M. Pascal, that, even with my influence, you would have no chance
+of success, and how can I give you my influence, with the approval of my
+conscience, leaving out of consideration the disparity of age, which, in
+my opinion, is an insuperable objection? I am sure, and I do not speak
+lightly, that the love which Antonine both feels and inspires ought to
+make her happy throughout her life."
+
+At this confirmation of Antonine's love for Frantz, a secret already
+half understood by M. Pascal, he was filled with rage and resentment,
+which was all the more violent for reason of the refusal of Madame
+Dutertre, who declined to enter into his impossible plans; but he
+restrained himself with a view of attempting a last effort. Failing in
+that, he resolved to take a terrible revenge. So, with apparent
+calmness, he replied:
+
+"Ah, so Mlle. Antonine is in love! Well, so be it; but we know, my dear
+Madame Dutertre, what these grand passions of young girls are,--a straw
+fire. You can blow it out; this beautiful love could not resist your
+influence."
+
+"I assure you, M. Pascal, I would not try to influence Antonine upon
+this subject, for it would be useless."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"I am certain of it."
+
+"Bah! it is always worth while to try."
+
+"But I tell you, sir, that Antonine--"
+
+"Is in love! I understand, and more, the good old bachelor Pascal is
+thirty-eight, and evidently not handsome, but on the other hand he has
+some handsome little millions, and when this evening (for you will see
+her this evening, will you not? I count on it) you make this
+unsophisticated maiden comprehend that, if love is a good thing, money
+is still better, for love passes and money stays, she will follow your
+counsel, dismiss her lover to-morrow, and I will have no more to say
+but 'Glory and thanks to you, my dear Madame Dutertre!'"
+
+Sophie stared at M. Pascal in amazement. Her womanly sensitivity was
+deeply shocked, and her instinct told her that a man who could talk as
+M. Pascal had done was not the man of good feeling and rectitude that
+she had believed him to be.
+
+At this moment, too, Dutertre rose from his chair, showing in his
+countenance the perplexity which agitated his mind; for the first time,
+his wife observed the alteration of his expression, and exclaimed as she
+advanced to meet him:
+
+"My God! Charles, how pale you are! Are you in pain?"
+
+"No, Sophie, nothing is the matter with me,--only a slight headache."
+
+"But I tell you something else is the matter. This pallor is not
+natural. Oh, M. Pascal, do look at Charles!"
+
+"Really, my good Dutertre, you do not appear at your ease."
+
+"Nothing is the matter, sir," replied Dutertre, with an icy tone which
+increased Sophie's undefined fear.
+
+She looked in silence, first at her husband, and then at M. Pascal,
+trying to discern the cause of the change that she saw and feared.
+
+"Well, my dear Dutertre," said M. Pascal, "you have heard our
+conversation; pray join me in trying to make your dear and excellent
+wife comprehend that mademoiselle, notwithstanding her foolish, childish
+love, could not find a better party than myself."
+
+"I share my wife's opinion on this subject, monsieur."
+
+"What! You wicked man! you, too!"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"Pray consider that--"
+
+"My wife has told you, sir. We made a marriage of love, and, like her,
+I believe that love marriages are the only happy ones."
+
+"To make merchandise of Antonine! I, counsel her to be guilty of an act
+of shocking meanness, a marriage of interest! to sell herself, in a
+word, when but an hour ago she confessed her pure and noble love to me!
+Ah, monsieur, I thought you had a higher opinion of me!"
+
+"Come, come, now, my dear Dutertre, you are a man of sense, confess that
+these reasons are nothing but romance; help me to convince your wife."
+
+"I repeat, monsieur, that I think as she does."
+
+"Ah," exclaimed M. Pascal, "I did not expect to find here friends so
+cold and indifferent to what concerned me."
+
+"Sir," exclaimed Sophie, "that reproach is unjust."
+
+"Unjust! alas, I wish it were; but, indeed, I have too much reason to
+think differently. But a moment ago, your husband refused one of my
+requests, and now it is you. Ah, it is sad--sad. What can I rely upon
+after this?"
+
+"Refused what?" said Sophie to her husband, more and more disquieted.
+"What does he mean, Charles?"
+
+"It is not necessary to mention it, my dear Sophie."
+
+"I think, on the contrary," replied Pascal, "that it would be well to
+tell your wife, my dear Dutertre, and have her opinion."
+
+"Sir!" exclaimed Dutertre, clasping his hands in dismay.
+
+"Come! is it not a marriage of love?" said Pascal, "you do not have any
+secrets from each other!"
+
+"Charles, I beseech you, explain to me the meaning of all this. Ah, I
+saw plainly enough that you were suffering. Monsieur, has anything
+happened between you and Charles?" said she to Pascal, in a tone of
+entreaty. "I implore you to tell me."
+
+"My God! a very simple thing happened. You can judge of it yourself,
+madame--"
+
+"Monsieur!" cried Dutertre, "in the name of the gratitude we owe you, in
+the name of pity, not one word more, I beseech you, for I can never
+believe that you will persist in your resolution. And then, what good
+does it do to torture my wife with needless alarm?"
+
+Then, turning to Madame Dutertre, he said:
+
+"Compose yourself, Sophie, I beg you."
+
+The father Dutertre, hearing the sound of voices as he sat in his
+chamber, suddenly opened his door, made two steps into the parlour,
+extending his hands before him, and cried, trembling with excitement:
+
+"Charles! Sophie. My God! what is the matter?"
+
+"My father!" whispered Dutertre, wholly overcome.
+
+"The old man!" said Pascal. "Good! that suits me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+A moment's silence followed the entrance of the old blind man into the
+parlour.
+
+Dutertre went quickly to meet his father, took hold of his trembling
+hand, and said, as he pressed it tenderly:
+
+"Calm yourself, father, it is nothing; a simple discussion, a little
+lively. Let me take you back to your chamber."
+
+"Charles," said the old man, shaking his head sadly, "your hand is cold,
+you are nervous, your voice is changed; something has happened which you
+wish to hide from me."
+
+"You are not mistaken, sir," said Pascal to the old man. "Your son is
+hiding something from you, and in his interest, in yours, and in the
+interest of your daughter-in-law and her children, you ought not to be
+ignorant of it."
+
+"But M. Pascal, can nothing touch your heart?" cried Charles Dutertre.
+"Are you without pity, without compassion?"
+
+"It is because I pity your obstinate folly, and that of your wife, my
+dear Dutertre, that I wish to appeal from it, to the good sense of your
+respectable father."
+
+"Charles," cried Sophie, "however cruel the truth may be, tell it. This
+doubt, this agony, is beyond my endurance!"
+
+"My son," added the old man, "be frank, as you have always been, and we
+will have courage."
+
+"You see, my dear Dutertre," persisted M. Pascal, "your worthy father
+himself wishes to know the truth."
+
+"Monsieur," answered Dutertre, in a broken voice, looking at Pascal with
+tears which he could hardly restrain, "be good, be generous, as you have
+been until to-day. Your power is immense, I know; with one word you can
+plunge us in distress, in disaster; but with one word, too, you can
+restore to us the peace and happiness which we have owed to you. I
+implore you, do not be pitiless."
+
+At the sight of the tears, which, in spite of his efforts to control,
+rose to the eyes of Dutertre, a man so resolute and energetic, Sophie
+detected the greatness of the danger, and, turning to M. Pascal, said,
+in a heartrending voice:
+
+"My God! I do not know the danger with which you threaten us, but I am
+afraid, oh, I am afraid, and I implore you also, M. Pascal."
+
+"After having been our saviour," cried Dutertre, drying the tears which
+escaped in spite of him, "surely you will not be our executioner!"
+
+"Your executioner!" repeated Pascal. "Please God, my poor friends, it is
+not I, it is you who wish to be your own executioner. This word you
+expect from me, this word which can assure your happiness, say it, my
+dear Dutertre, and our little feast will be as joyous as it ought to be;
+if not, then do not complain of the bad fate which awaits you. Alas, you
+will have it so!"
+
+"Charles, if it depends on you," cried Sophie, in a voice of agony, "if
+this word M. Pascal asks depends on you, then say it, oh, my God, since
+the salvation of your father and your children depend upon it."
+
+"You hear your wife, my dear Dutertre," resumed Pascal. "Will you be
+insensible to her voice?"
+
+"Ah, well, then," cried Dutertre, pale and desperate, "since this man is
+pitiless, you, my father, and you, too, Sophie, can know all. I
+dismissed Marcelange from my employ. M. Pascal has an interest, of which
+I am ignorant, in having this man enter the business house of Durand,
+and he asks me to give to this firm a voucher for the integrity of a
+wretch whom I have thrown out of my establishment as an arrant
+impostor."
+
+"Ah, monsieur," said the old man, shocked, as he turned to the side
+where he supposed M. Pascal to be, "that is impossible. You cannot
+expect such an unworthy action from my son!"
+
+"And if I refuse to do this degrading thing," said Dutertre, "M. Pascal
+withdraws from me the capital which I have so rashly accepted, he
+refuses me credit, and in our present crisis that would be our loss, our
+ruin."
+
+"Great God!" whispered Sophie, terrified.
+
+"That is not all, father," continued Dutertre. "My wife, too, must pay
+her tribute of shame. M. Pascal is, he says, in love with Mlle.
+Antonine, and Sophie must serve this love, which she knows to be
+impossible, and which for honourable reasons she disapproves, or a
+threat is still suspended over our heads. Now you have the truth,
+father,--submit to a ruin as terrible as unforeseen, or commit a base
+action, such is the alternative to which a man whom we have trusted so
+long as loyal and generous reduces me."
+
+"That again, always that; so goes the world," interposed M. Pascal,
+sighing and shrugging his shoulders. "So long as they can receive your
+aid without making any return, oh, then they flatter you and praise you.
+It is always 'My noble benefactor, my generous saviour;' they call you
+'dear, good man,' load you with attentions; they embroider purses for
+you and make a feast for you. The little children repeat compliments to
+you, but let the day come when this poor, innocent man presumes in his
+turn to ask one or two miserable little favours, then they cry,
+'Scoundrel!' 'Unworthy!' 'Infamous!'"
+
+"Any sacrifice, compatible with honour, you might have asked of me, M.
+Pascal," said Dutertre, in a voice which told how deeply he was wounded,
+"and I would have made it with joy!"
+
+"Then, what is to be expected?" continued Pascal, without replying to
+Dutertre, "if the 'good, innocent man,' so good-natured as they suppose
+him to be, the benefactor, at last, grows weary, ingratitude breaks his
+heart, for he is naturally sensitive, too sensitive?"
+
+"Ingratitude!" cried Sophie, bursting into tears, "we--we--ingrates, oh,
+my God!"
+
+"And as the 'good, innocent man' sees a little later that he has been
+mistaken," continued Pascal, without replying to Sophie, "as he
+recognises the fact, with pain, that he has been dealing with people
+incapable of putting their grateful friendship beyond a few puerile
+prejudices, he says to himself that he would be by far too much of an
+'innocent man' to continue to open his purse for the use of such
+lukewarm friends. So he withdraws his money and his credit as I do,
+being brought to this resolution by certain circumstances consequent
+upon the refusal of this dear Dutertre, whom I loved so much, and whom I
+would love still to call my friend. One last word, sir," added Pascal,
+addressing the old man. "I have just told you frankly my attitude toward
+your son, and his toward me; but as it would cost my own heart too much
+to renounce the faith that I had in the affection of this dear Dutertre,
+as I know the terrible evils which, through his own fault, must come
+upon him and his family, I am willing still to give him one quarter of
+an hour for reconsideration. Let him give me the letter in question, let
+Madame Dutertre make me the promise that I ask of her, and all shall
+become again as in the past, and I shall ask for breakfast, and
+enthusiastically drink a toast to friendship. You are the father of
+Dutertre, monsieur, you have a great influence over him; judge and
+decide."
+
+"Charles," said the old man to his son, in a voice full of emotion, "you
+have acted as an honest man. That is well, but there is still another
+thing to do; to refuse to vouch for the integrity of a scoundrel is not
+enough."
+
+"Ah, ah!" interrupted Pascal, "what more, then, is there to do?"
+
+"If M. Pascal," continued the old man, "persists in this dangerous
+design, you ought, my son, to write to the house of Durand, that for
+reasons of which you are ignorant, but which are perhaps hostile to
+their interests, M. Pascal desires to place this Marcelange with them,
+and that they must be on their guard, because to be silent when an
+unworthy project is proposed is to become an accomplice."
+
+"I will follow your advice, father," replied Dutertre, in a firm voice.
+
+"Better and better," exclaimed Pascal, sighing, "to ingratitude they add
+the odious abuse of confidence. Ah, well, I will drink the cup to the
+dregs. Only, my poor former friends," added he, throwing a strange and
+sinister glance upon the actors in this scene, "only I fear, you see,
+that after drinking it a great deal of bitterness and rancour will
+remain in my heart, and then, you know, when a legitimate hatred
+succeeds a tender friendship, this hatred, unhappily, becomes a terrible
+thing."
+
+"Oh, Charles! he frightens me," whispered the young wife, drawing nearer
+her husband.
+
+"As to you, my dear Sophie," added the old man, with imperturbable
+calmness, without replying to M. Pascal's threat, "you ought not only to
+favour in nothing--the course which you have taken--a marriage which you
+must disapprove, but if M. Pascal persists in his intentions, you ought,
+by all means, to enlighten Mlle. Antonine as to the character of the man
+who seeks her. To do that, you have only to inform her at what an
+infamous price he put the continuation of the aid he has rendered your
+husband."
+
+"That is my duty," replied Sophie, in a calmer voice, "and I will do it,
+father."
+
+"And you, too, my dear Madame Dutertre, to abuse an honest confidence!"
+said M. Pascal, hiding his anger under a veil of sweetness, "to strike
+me in my dearest hope, ah, this is generous! God grant that I may not
+give myself up to cruel retaliation! After two years of friendship to
+part with such sentiments! But it must be, it must be!" added Pascal,
+looking alternately at Dutertre and his wife. "Is all ended between us?"
+
+Sophie and her husband preserved a silence full of resignation and
+dignity.
+
+"Oh, well," said Pascal, taking his hat, "another proof of the
+ingratitude of men, alas!"
+
+"Monsieur," cried Dutertre, exasperated beyond measure at the affected
+sensibility of Pascal, "in the presence of the frightful blow with which
+you intend to crush us, this continued sarcasm is atrocious. Leave us,
+leave us!"
+
+"Ah, here I am driven away from this house by people who are conscious
+of owing their happiness to me for so long a time,--their salvation
+even, they owe to me," said Pascal, walking slowly toward the door.
+"Driven away from here! I! Ah, this mortifying grief disappoints me,
+indeed!"
+
+Then, pausing, he rummaged his pocket, and drew out the little purse
+that Sophie had given him a few moments before, and, handing it to the
+young wife, he said, with a pitiless accent of sardonic contrition:
+
+"Happily, they are mute, or these pearls of steel would tell me every
+moment how much my name was blessed in this house from which I am driven
+away."
+
+Then, with the air of changing his mind, he put the purse back in his
+pocket, after looking at it with a melancholy smile, and said:
+
+"No, no, I will keep you, poor little innocent purse. You will recall to
+me the little good I have done, and the cruel deception which has been
+my reward."
+
+So saying, M. Pascal put his hand on the knob of the door, opened it,
+and went out, while Sophie and her husband and her father sat in gloomy
+silence.
+
+This oppressive silence was still unbroken when M. Pascal, returning
+and opening the door half-way, said across the threshold:
+
+"To tell the truth, Dutertre, I have reflected. Listen to me, my dear
+Dutertre."
+
+A ray of foolish hope illumined the face of Dutertre; for a moment he
+believed that, in spite of the cold and sarcastic cruelty that Pascal
+had first affected, he did feel some pity at last.
+
+Sophie shared the same hope; like her husband she listened with
+indescribable anguish to the words of the man who was to dispose so
+absolutely of their fate, while Pascal said:
+
+"Next Saturday is your pay-day, is it not, my dear Dutertre? Let me call
+you so notwithstanding what has passed between us."
+
+"Thank God, he has some pity," thought Dutertre, and he replied aloud:
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"I would not wish, you understand, my dear Dutertre," continued Pascal,
+"to put you in ruinous embarrassment. I know Paris, and in the present
+business crisis you could not get credit for a cent, especially if it
+were known that I have withdrawn mine from you, and as, after all, you
+relied upon my name to meet your liabilities, did you not?"
+
+"Charles, we are saved!" whispered Sophie, panting, "he was only testing
+us."
+
+Dutertre, struck with this idea, which appeared to him all the more
+probable as he had at first suspected it, no longer doubted his safety;
+his heart beat violently, his contracted features relaxed into their
+ordinary cheerful expression, and he replied, stammering from excess of
+emotion:
+
+"In fact, sir, trusting blindly to your promises, I relied on your
+credit as usual."
+
+"Well, my dear Dutertre, that you may not find yourself in an
+embarrassed position, I have come back to tell you that, as you still
+have about a week, you had better provide for yourself elsewhere, as you
+cannot depend on Paris or on me."
+
+And M. Pascal closed the door, and took his departure.
+
+The reaction was so terrible that Dutertre fell back in his chair, pale,
+inanimate, and utterly exhausted. Hiding his face in his hands, he
+sobbed:
+
+"Lost, lost!"
+
+"Oh, our children!" cried Sophie, in a heartrending voice, as she threw
+herself down at her husband's knees, "our poor children!"
+
+"Charles," said the old man, extending his hands, and timidly groping
+his way to his son, "Charles, my beloved son, have courage!"
+
+"Oh, father, it is ruin, it is bankruptcy," said the unhappy man, with
+convulsive sobs. "The misery, oh, my God! the misery in store for us
+all!"
+
+At the height of this overwhelming sorrow came a cruel contrast; the
+little children, clamorous with joy, rushed into the parlour,
+exclaiming:
+
+"It is Madeleine; here is Madeleine!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+At the sight of Madeleine, who was no other than the Marquise de
+Miranda, the happiness of Madame Dutertre was so great that for a moment
+all her sorrows and all her terrors for the future were forgotten; her
+sweet and gracious countenance beamed with joy, she could only pronounce
+these words in broken accents:
+
+"Madeleine, dear Madeleine! after such a long absence, at last you have
+come!"
+
+After the two young women had embraced each other Sophie said to her
+friend as she looked at her husband and the old man:
+
+"Madeleine, my husband and his father,--our father, as he calls me his
+daughter."
+
+The marquise, entering suddenly, had thrown herself upon Sophie's neck
+with such impetuous affection that Charles Dutertre could not
+distinguish the features of the stranger, but when, at Madame Dutertre's
+last words, the newly arrived friend turned toward him, he felt a sudden
+strange impression,--an impression so positive that, for a few minutes,
+he, like his wife, forgot the vindictive speech of M. Pascal.
+
+What Charles Dutertre felt at the sight of Madeleine was a singular
+mixture of surprise, admiration, and almost distress, for he experienced
+a sort of indefinable remorse at the thought of being in that critical
+moment accessible to any emotion except that which pertained to the ruin
+which threatened him and his family.
+
+The Marquise de Miranda would hardly, at first sight, seem capable of
+making so sudden and so deep an impression. Quite tall in stature, her
+form and waist were completely hidden under a large mantle of spring
+material which matched that of her dress, whose long, trailing folds
+scarcely permitted a view of the extremity of her little boot. It was
+the same with her hands, which were almost entirely concealed by the
+sleeves of her dress, which she wore, as was her custom, long and
+floating. A little hood made of crape, as white as snow, formed a
+framework for her distinctly oval face, and set off the tint of her
+complexion, for Madeleine had that dull, pale flesh-colour so often
+found in brunettes of a pronounced type, with large, expressive blue
+eyes fringed with lashes as black as her eyebrows of jet, while, by a
+bewitching contrast, her hair, arranged in a mass of little curls, a la
+Sevigne, was of that charming and delicate ash-blonde which Rubens makes
+flow like waves upon the shoulders of his fair naiads.
+
+This pallid complexion, these blue eyes, these black eyebrows and blonde
+hair, gave to Madeleine's physiognomy a very fetching attraction; her
+ebony lashes were so thick, so closely set, that one might have
+said--like the women of the East, who by this means impart a passionate
+and at the same time an enervated expression to their faces--she painted
+with black the under part of her eyelids, almost always partially closed
+over their large azure-coloured pupils; her pink nostrils, changing and
+nervous, dilated on each side of a Greek nose exquisite in its contour;
+while her lips, of so warm a red that one might almost see the blood
+circulate under their delicate epidermis, were full but clear cut, and a
+little prominent, like those of an antique Erigone, and sometimes under
+their bright coloured edges one could see the beautiful enamel of her
+teeth.
+
+But why continue this portrait? Will there not be always, however
+faithful our description, however highly coloured it may be, as
+immeasurable a distance between that and the reality as exists between a
+painting and a living being? It would be impossible to make perceptible
+that atmosphere of irresistible attraction, that magnetism, we might
+say, which emanated from this singular creature. That which in others
+would have produced a neutralising effect, seemed in her to increase her
+fascinations a hundredfold. The very length and amplitude of her
+garments, which, without revealing the contour of her figure, allowed
+only a sight of the end of her fingers and the extremity of her boot,
+added a charm to her. In a word, if the chaste drapery which falls at
+the feet of an antique muse, of severe and thoughtful face, enhances the
+dignity of her aspect, a veil thrown over the beautiful form of the
+Venus Aphrodite only serves to excite and inflame the imagination.
+
+Such was the impression which Madeleine had produced on Charles
+Dutertre, who, speechless and troubled, stood for some moments gazing at
+her.
+
+Sophie, not suspecting the cause of her husband's silence and emotion,
+supposed him to be absorbed in thought of the imminent danger which
+threatened him, and this idea bringing her back to the position she had
+for a moment forgotten, she said to the marquise, trying to force a
+smile:
+
+"My dear Madeleine, you must excuse the preoccupation of Charles. At the
+moment you entered we were talking of business, and business of a very
+serious nature indeed."
+
+"Yes, really, madame, you must excuse me," said Dutertre, starting, and
+reproaching himself for the strange impression his wife's friend had
+made upon him. "Fortunately, all that Sophie has told me of your
+kindness encourages me to presume upon your indulgence."
+
+"My indulgence? It is I who have need of yours, monsieur," replied the
+marquise, smiling, "for in my overmastering desire to see my dear Sophie
+again, running here unawares, I threw myself on her neck, without
+dreaming of your presence or that of your father. But he will, I know,
+pardon me for treating Sophie like a sister, since he treats her as a
+daughter."
+
+With these words, Madeleine turned to the old man.
+
+"Alas! madame," exclaimed he, involuntarily, "never did my poor children
+have greater need of the fidelity of their friends. Perhaps it is Heaven
+that sends you--"
+
+"Take care, father," said Dutertre, in a low voice to the old man, as if
+he would reproach him tenderly for making a stranger acquainted with
+their domestic troubles, for Madeleine had suddenly directed a surprised
+and interrogative glance toward Sophie.
+
+The old man comprehended his son's thought, and whispered:
+
+"You are right. I ought to keep silent, but grief is so indiscreet! Come
+now, Charles, take me back to my room. I feel very much overcome."
+
+And he took his son's arm. As Dutertre was about to leave the parlour
+the marquise approached him, and said:
+
+"I shall see you soon, M. Dutertre, I warn you, for I am resolved during
+my sojourn in Paris to come often, oh! very often, to see my dear
+Sophie. Besides, I wish to make a request of you, and, in order to be
+certain of your consent, I shall charge Sophie to ask it. You see, I act
+without ceremony, as a friend, an old friend, for my friendship for you,
+M. Dutertre, dates from the happiness Sophie owes you. I shall see you,
+then, soon!" added the marquise, extending her hand to Dutertre with
+gracious cordiality.
+
+For the first time in his life Sophie's husband felt ashamed of the
+hands blackened by toil; he hardly dared touch the rosy little fingers
+of Madeleine; he trembled slightly at the contact; a burning blush
+mounted to his forehead, and, to dissimulate his mortification and
+embarrassment, he bowed profoundly before the marquise, and went out
+with his father.
+
+From the commencement of this scene Sophie's two little children,
+holding each other's hands, and hiding now and then behind their mother,
+near whom they were standing, opened their eyes wide in silent and
+curious contemplation of the great lady.
+
+The marquise, perceiving them, exclaimed, as she looked at her friend:
+
+"Your children? My God, how pretty they are! How proud you must be!" And
+she dropped on her knees before them, putting herself, so to speak, on a
+level with them; then, dispersing with one hand the blond curls which
+hid the brow and eyes of the little girl, she lifted the chin of the
+child's half-bent head with the other hand, looked a moment at the
+charming little face so rosy and fresh, and kissed the cheeks and eyes
+and brow and hair and neck of the little one with maternal tenderness.
+
+"And you, little cherub, you must not be jealous," added she, and,
+holding the brown head of the little boy and the blond curls of the
+little girl together, she divided her caresses between them.
+
+Sophie Dutertre, moved to tears, smiled sadly at this picture, when the
+marquise, still on her knees, looked up at her and said, holding both
+children in her embrace:
+
+"You would not believe, Sophie, that, in embracing these little angels,
+I comprehend, I feel almost the happiness that you experience when you
+devour them with kisses and caresses, and it seems to me that I love you
+even more to know that you are so happy, so perfectly happy."
+
+As she heard her happiness thus extolled, Sophie, brought back to the
+painful present a moment forgotten, dropped her head, turned pale, and
+showed in her countenance such intense agony, that Madeleine rose
+immediately, and exclaimed:
+
+"My God, Sophie, how pale you are! What is the matter?"
+
+Madame Dutertre stifled a sigh, lifted her head sadly, and replied:
+
+"Nothing is the matter, Madeleine; the excitement, the joy of seeing you
+again after such a long separation,--that is all."
+
+"Excitement, joy?" answered the marquise, with an air of painful doubt.
+"No, no! A few moments ago it was excitement and joy, but now you seem
+to be heart-broken, Sophie."
+
+Madame Dutertre said nothing, hid her tears, embraced her children, and
+then whispered to them:
+
+"Go find your nurse, my darlings."
+
+Madeleine and Augustus obeyed and left the parlour, not, however,
+without turning many times to look at the great lady whom they thought
+so charming.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Scarcely were the two children out of the parlour, when Madeleine said
+to her friend, quickly:
+
+"Now we are alone, Sophie, I pray you, answer me; what is the matter
+with you? What is the cause of this sudden oppression? Have absence and
+distance destroyed your confidence in me?"
+
+Sophie had courage enough to overcome her feelings, and hide without
+falsehood the painful secret which was not hers. Not daring to confess,
+even to her best friend, the probable and approaching ruin of Dutertre,
+she said to Madeleine, with apparent calmness:
+
+"If I must tell you my weakness, my friend, I share sometimes, and
+doubtless exaggerate, the financial troubles of my husband in this
+crisis,--temporary they may be, but at the same time very dangerous to
+our industry," said Sophie, trying to smile.
+
+"But this crisis, my dear Sophie, is, as you say, only temporary, is it
+not? It is not yet grave and should it become so, what can be done to
+render it less painful to you and your husband? Without being very rich
+I live in perfect ease,--is there anything I would not do?"
+
+"Good, dear, excellent friend!" said Sophie, interrupting Madeleine,
+with emotion, "always the same heart! Reassure yourself,--this time of
+crisis will, I hope, be only a passing evil,--let us talk no more about
+it, let me have all the joy of seeing you again."
+
+"But, Sophie, if these troubles--"
+
+"Madeleine," replied Sophie, sweetly, interrupting her friend again,
+"first, let us talk of yourself."
+
+"Egoist!"
+
+"That is true, when it touches you; but tell me, you are happy, are you
+not? because, marquise as you are, you have made a marriage of love,
+have you not? And what about your husband?"
+
+"I am a widow."
+
+"Oh, my God, already!"
+
+"I was a widow the evening of my wedding, my dear Sophie."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"As extraordinary as it may seem, it is nevertheless quite simple.
+Listen to me: when I left boarding-school and returned to Mexico, where
+I was ordered, as you know, by my father, I found but one relative of my
+mother, the Marquis de Miranda, mortally attacked by one of those
+epidemics which so often ravage Lima. He had no children and had seen me
+when I was a small child. He knew that my father's fortune had been
+entirely destroyed by disastrous lawsuits. He had a paternal sentiment
+for me, and almost on his death-bed offered me his hand. 'Accept, my
+dear Magdelena, my poor orphan,' said he to me, 'my name will give you a
+social position, my fortune will assure your independence, and I shall
+die content in knowing that you are happy.'"
+
+"Noble heart!" said Sophie.
+
+"Yes," replied Madeleine, with emotion, "he was the best of men. My
+isolated position and earnest entreaties made me accept his generous
+offer. The priest came to his bedside to consecrate our union, and the
+ceremony was hardly over when the hand of the Marquis de Miranda was
+like ice in my own."
+
+"Madeleine, forgive me," said Madame Dutertre, involuntarily, "I have
+made you sad by recalling such painful memories."
+
+"Painful? no, it is with a sweet melancholy that I think of Marquis de
+Miranda. It is only ingratitude that is bitter to the heart."
+
+"And so young still, does not your liberty incommode you? Alone, without
+family, are you accustomed to this life of isolation?"
+
+"I think I am the happiest of women, after you, let it be understood,"
+replied Madeleine, smiling.
+
+"And do you never think of marrying again, or rather," added Sophie,
+smiling in her turn, "of marrying? Because, really, notwithstanding your
+widowhood, you are a maiden."
+
+"I hide nothing from you, Sophie. Ah, well, yes. One time I had a desire
+to marry,--that was a grand passion, a romance," replied Madeleine,
+gaily.
+
+"Well, as you are free, who prevented this marriage?"
+
+"Alas! I saw my hero for five minutes only, and from my balcony."
+
+"Only five minutes?"
+
+"Not more."
+
+"And you loved him at once?"
+
+"Passionately."
+
+"And you have never seen him since?"
+
+"Never! No doubt he has been translated to heaven among his brothers,
+the archangels, whose ideal beauty he possessed."
+
+"Madeleine, are you speaking seriously?"
+
+"Listen: six months ago I was in Vienna. I lived in the country situated
+near one of the suburbs of the city. One morning I was in a kiosk, the
+window of which looked out upon a field. Suddenly my attention was
+attracted by the noise of stamping and the clash of swords. I ran to my
+window; it was a duel."
+
+"Oh, my God!"
+
+"A young man of nineteen or twenty at most, as gracious and beautiful as
+they paint the angels, was fighting with a sort of giant with a
+ferocious face. My first wish was that the blond archangel--for blond is
+my passion--might triumph over the horrible demon, and although the
+combat lasted in my presence not more than two minutes, I had time to
+admire the intrepidity, the calmness, and dexterity of my hero,--his
+white breast half naked, his long, blond hair floating to the wind, his
+brow serene, his eyes brilliant, and a smile upon his lips, he seemed to
+brave danger with a charming grace, and at that moment, I confess it,
+his beauty appeared to me more than human. Suddenly, in the midst of a
+kind of fascination that the flashing of the swords had for me, I saw
+the giant stagger and fall. Immediately my beautiful hero threw away his
+sword, clasped his hands, and, falling on his knees before his
+adversary, lifted to heaven his enchanting face, where shone an
+expression so touching, so ingenuous, that to see him thus bending in
+grief over his vanquished enemy, one would have thought of a young
+girl's grief for her wounded dove, if we can compare this hideous giant
+to a dove. But his wound did not seem to be mortal, for he sat up, and,
+in a hoarse voice, which I could hear through my window-blind, said to
+his young enemy:
+
+"'On my knees, monsieur, I ask your pardon for my disloyal conduct and
+my rude provocation; if you had killed me it would have been justice.'
+
+"Immediately a carriage arrived and carried the wounded man away, and a
+few minutes afterward all the witnesses of the duel had disappeared. It
+happened so rapidly that I would have thought I had dreamed it, but for
+the remembrance of my hero, who has been in my thought always since that
+day, the ideal of all that is most beautiful, most brave, and most
+generous."
+
+"Now, Madeleine, I conceive that under such circumstances one might, in
+five minutes, feel a profound impression, perhaps ineffaceable. But have
+you never seen your hero again?"
+
+"Never, I tell you. I do not know his name even; yet, if I marry, I
+should marry no man except him."
+
+"Madeleine, you know that our old friendship gives me the privilege of
+being frank with you."
+
+"Could you be otherwise?"
+
+"It seems to me that you bear this grand passion very cheerfully."
+
+"Why should I be sad?"
+
+"But when one loves passionately, nothing is more cruel than absence and
+separation, and, above all, the fear of never seeing the beloved object
+again."
+
+"That is true; and notwithstanding the effects of this profound passion,
+I declare to you they have a very different result with me."
+
+"What must I say to you? When I began to love Charles, I should have
+died of distress if I had been separated from him."
+
+"That is singular. My passion, I repeat to you, manifests itself in an
+entirely different fashion. There is not a day in which I do not think
+of my hero, my ideal; not a day in which I do not recall with love, in
+the smallest details, the only circumstances under which I saw him; not
+a day in which I do not turn all my thought to him; not a day in which I
+do not triumph with pride in comparing him to others, for he is the most
+beautiful of the most beautiful, most generous of the most generous; in
+fact, thanks to him, not a day in which I do not lull myself in the most
+beautiful dreams. Yes, it seems to me that my soul is for ever attached
+to his by cords as mysterious as they are indissoluble. I do not know if
+I shall ever behold him again, and yet I feel in my heart only delight
+and cheerfulness."
+
+"I must say, as you do, my dear Madeleine, that it is very singular."
+
+"Come, Sophie, let us talk sincerely; we are alone and, among women,
+although I am still a young lady to be married or a marriageable girl,
+we can say the truth. You find my love, do you not, a little platonic?
+You are astonished to see me so careless or ignorant of the thrill you
+felt, when for the first time the hand of Charles pressed your hand in
+love?"
+
+"Come, Madeleine, you are getting silly."
+
+"Be frank, I have guessed your feeling."
+
+"A little, but less than you think."
+
+"That little suffices to penetrate your inmost thought, Madame
+Materialist."
+
+"I say again, Madeleine, you are growing silly."
+
+"Oh, oh, not so silly!"
+
+Then, after a moment's silence, the marquise resumed, with a smile:
+
+"If you only knew, Sophie, the strange, extraordinary, I might say
+incomprehensible things that have come in my life! What extravagant
+adventures have happened to me since our separation! My physician and my
+friend, the celebrated Doctor Gasterini, a great philosopher as well,
+has told me a hundred times there is not a creature in the world as
+singularly endowed as myself."
+
+"Explain your meaning."
+
+"Later, perhaps."
+
+"Why not now?"
+
+"If I had a sorrow to reveal, do you think I would hesitate? But,
+notwithstanding all that has been extraordinary in my life, or perhaps
+for that particular reason, I have been the happiest of women. Oh, my
+God! wait, for this moment I have almost a sorrow for my want of heart
+and memory."
+
+"A want of memory?"
+
+"Yes, of Antonine; have I not forgotten her since I have been here,
+talking to you only of myself? Is it wicked? Is it ingratitude enough?"
+
+"I would be at least as culpable as you, but we need not reproach
+ourselves. This morning she came to bring me your letter and announce
+your arrival to me. Think of her joy, for she has, you can believe me,
+the strongest and most tender attachment to you."
+
+"Poor child, how natural and charming she was! But tell me, has she
+fulfilled the promise of her childhood? She ought to be as pretty as an
+angel, with her fifteen years just in flower."
+
+"You are right; she is a rosebud of freshness; add to that the finest,
+most delicate features that you could ever see. After the death of her
+nearest relative, she came, as you know, to live with her uncle,
+President Hubert, who has always been kind to her. Unhappily, he is now
+seriously ill, and should she lose him she would be compelled to go and
+live with some distant relatives, and the thought makes her very sad.
+Besides, you will see her and she will give you her confidence. She has
+made one to me, in order to ask my advice, for the circumstances are
+very grave."
+
+"What is this confidence?"
+
+"'If you see Madeleine before I do,' said Antonine to me, 'tell her
+nothing, my dear Sophie. I wish to confide all to her myself; it is a
+right which her affection for me gives me. I have other reasons, too,
+for laying this injunction on you.' So you see, my dear friend, I am
+obliged, perforce, to be discreet."
+
+"I do not insist upon knowing more. To-day or to-morrow I will go to see
+this dear child," said the marquise, rising to take leave of Madame
+Dutertre.
+
+"You leave me so soon, Madeleine?"
+
+"Unfortunately, I must. I have an appointment from three to four, at the
+house of the Mexican envoy, my compatriot. He is going to conduct me
+to-morrow to the palace of a foreign Royal Highness. You see, Sophie, I
+am among the grandees."
+
+"A Highness?"
+
+"Such a Highness that, like all princes who belong to the reigning
+foreign families, he resides in the Elysee-Bourbon during his sojourn in
+Paris."
+
+Madame Dutertre could not restrain a movement of surprise, and said,
+after a minute's reflection:
+
+"That is singular."
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"Antonine lives in a house contiguous to the Elysee. There is nothing
+very surprising in that, but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"I cannot tell you more, Madeleine; when you have heard Antonine's
+confidences you will comprehend why I have been struck with this
+coincidence."
+
+"What is there in common with Antonine and the Elysee?"
+
+"I tell you again, my dear friend, wait for the confidences of
+Antonine."
+
+"So be it, my mysterious friend. Besides, I did not know she lived near
+the palace. I addressed a letter to her at her old dwelling-house. That
+suits my plans marvellously; I will go to see her before or after my
+audience with the prince."
+
+"Come, what a great lady you are!"
+
+"Pity me, rather, my dear Sophie, because it is a question of entreaty,
+not for myself, I am not in the habit of begging, but it concerns an
+important service to be done for a proscribed family, and one worthy of
+the highest interest. The mission is very difficult, very delicate;
+however, I consented to undertake it at the time of my departure from
+Venice, and I desire to try everything which can further my success."
+
+"And surely you will succeed. Can any one refuse you anything? Do you
+remember when we were at school, as soon as a petition was to be
+addressed to our mistress you were always chosen as ambassadress; and
+they were right, for, really, you seem to possess a talisman for
+obtaining all you want."
+
+"I assure you, my good Sophie," replied Madeleine, smiling in spite of
+herself, "I assure you I am often a magician without trying to be one.
+My God!" added the marquise, laughing, "how many fine extravagances I
+have to tell you. But we will see, some other time. Come, dear Sophie,
+good-bye,--will see you soon."
+
+"Oh, yes, come again soon, I implore you!"
+
+"My God! you can count on my coming almost every day, because I am a
+bird of passage, and I have decided to employ my time in Paris well,
+that is to say, I shall see you very often."
+
+"What! you are not thinking of leaving Paris soon?"
+
+"I do not know; that will depend upon the inspiration that my hero, my
+passion, my ideal will give me, for I decide on nothing without
+consulting him in thought. But, as he always inspires me admirably, I
+doubt not he will induce me to stay near you as long a time as
+possible."
+
+"Ah, my God, Madeleine; but, now I think of it, you told my husband that
+you had a favour to ask of him."
+
+"That is true, I forgot it. It is a very simple thing. I understand
+nothing of money affairs. I learned that recently, to my cost, in
+Germany. I had a letter of credit on a certain Aloysius Schmidt, of
+Vienna; he cheated me shamefully, so I promised myself to be on my guard
+in the future. So I have taken another letter of credit on Paris. I wish
+to ask your husband to demand money for me when I have need of it. He
+will watch over my interests, and, thanks to him, I shall not be exposed
+to the possibility of falling into the clutches of a new Aloysius
+Schmidt."
+
+"Nothing easier, my dear Madeleine. Charles will endorse your letter of
+credit and verify at hand all your accounts."
+
+"That will be all the more necessary, since, between us, I am told that
+the person on whom they have given me this letter of credit is
+enormously rich, and as solvent as one could be, but crafty and sordid
+to the last degree."
+
+"You do well to inform me beforehand. Charles will redouble his
+watchfulness."
+
+"Besides, your husband, who is in business, ought to know the man of
+whom I speak,--they say he is one of the greatest capitalists in
+France."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"M. Pascal."
+
+"M. Pascal?" repeated Madame Dutertre.
+
+And she could not help trembling and turning pale.
+
+The marquise, seeing her friend's emotion, said, quickly:
+
+"Sophie, pray, what is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing, nothing, I assure you."
+
+"I see that something is the matter; answer me, I implore you."
+
+"Ah, well, if I must tell you, my husband has had some business
+relations with M. Pascal. Unhappily, a great misunderstanding was the
+result, and--"
+
+"Why, Sophie, you are very unreasonable to give yourself so much
+concern, because, in consequence of this misunderstanding with M.
+Pascal, your husband cannot render me the good office I expected from
+him."
+
+Madame Dutertre, willing to leave her friend in this error, tried to
+regain her calmness, and said to her:
+
+"Indeed, it disappoints me very much to think that Charles will not be
+able to do you the first service that you ask of us."
+
+"Stop, Sophie, you will make me regret having appealed so cordially to
+you."
+
+"Madeleine--"
+
+"Really, it is not such a great pity! And, besides, to prevent my being
+deceived, I will address myself directly to this M. Pascal, but I will
+demand my accounts every week. Your husband can examine them, and, if
+they are not correct, I will know perfectly well how to complain of them
+to monsieur, my banker, and to take another."
+
+"You are right, Madeleine," said Sophie, recovering by degrees her
+self-possession, "and the supervision of my husband will, in fact, be
+more necessary than you think."
+
+"So this M. Pascal is a sordid fellow?"
+
+"Madeleine," said Madame Dutertre, unable longer to conquer her emotion,
+"I beseech you, and let me speak to you as a friend, as a sister,
+whatever may be the reason, whatever may be the pretext, place no
+dependence in M. Pascal!"
+
+"What do you mean, Sophie?"
+
+"In a word, if he offers you his services, refuse them."
+
+"His services? But I have no service to ask of him. I have a letter of
+credit on him. I will go and draw money from his bank when I have need
+of it--that is all."
+
+"That may be, but you might, through mistake or ignorance of business,
+exceed your credit, and then--"
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+"I know from a person who has told Charles and myself that, once M.
+Pascal has you in his debt, he will abuse his power cruelly, oh, so
+cruelly."
+
+"Come, my good Sophie, I see that you take me for a giddy prodigal.
+Reassure yourself, and admire my economy. I have so much order that I
+lay by every year something from my income, and although these savings
+are small I place them at your disposal."
+
+"Dear, tender friend, I thank you a thousand times! I repeat, the crisis
+which gives my husband and myself so much concern will soon end; but let
+me tell you again, do not trust M. Pascal. When you have seen Antonine,
+I will tell you more."
+
+"Antonine again! You just spoke of her in connection with the Elysee."
+
+"Yes, it all hangs together; you will see it yourself after to-morrow. I
+will explain myself entirely, which will be important to Antonine."
+
+"After to-morrow, then, my dear Sophie. I must confess you excite my
+curiosity very much, and I try in vain to discover what there can be in
+common between Antonine and the Elysee, or between Antonine and that
+wicked man, for so at least he appears who is named M. Pascal."
+
+Half-past three sounded from the factory clock.
+
+"My God! how late I am!" said Madeleine to her friend. "I shall barely
+have time, but I must embrace your angelic children before I go."
+
+The two women left the parlour.
+
+We will return with the reader to the Elysee-Bourbon, where we left the
+archduke alone, after the departure of M. Pascal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+The archduke, anxious and preoccupied, was walking back and forth in his
+study, while his secretary of ordinance unsealed and examined the
+letters received during the day.
+
+"This despatch, monseigneur," pursued the secretary, "relates to Colonel
+Pernetti, exiled with his family to England. We think it necessary to
+put your Highness on guard against the proceedings and petitions of the
+friends of Colonel Pernetti."
+
+"I do not need that warning. The republican principles of this man are
+too dangerous for me to listen, under any consideration, to what may be
+urged in his favour. Go on."
+
+"His Eminence, the envoy plenipotentiary from the Mexican Republic, asks
+the favour of presenting one of his compatriots to your Highness. It
+concerns a very urgent interest, and he requests your Highness to have
+the kindness to grant an audience to-morrow."
+
+"Is the list of audiences complete for to-morrow?"
+
+"No, monseigneur."
+
+"Write that at two o'clock, to-morrow, I will receive the envoy from
+Mexico, and his compatriot."
+
+The secretary wrote.
+
+A moment passed, and the archduke said to him:
+
+"Does he mention in this letter the name of the person whom he wishes to
+present?"
+
+"No, monseigneur."
+
+"That is contrary to all custom; I shall not grant the audience."
+
+The secretary put the letter he had begun to write aside, and took
+another sheet of paper.
+
+In the meanwhile the prince changed his mind after reflection, and said:
+
+"I will grant the audience."
+
+The secretary bowed his head in assent, and, taking another letter, he
+rose and presented it to the prince without breaking the seal, and said:
+
+"On this envelope is written 'Confidential and Special,' monseigneur."
+
+The archduke took the letter and read it. It was from M. Pascal, and was
+expressed in these familiar words:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"After mature reflection, monseigneur, instead of waiting upon you
+Thursday I will see you to-morrow at three o'clock; it will depend upon
+you absolutely whether our business is concluded and signed during that
+interview. Your devoted
+
+"PASCAL."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One moment of lively hope, soon tempered by the recollection of the
+eccentricities of M. Pascal's character, thrilled the prince, who,
+however, said, coldly:
+
+"Write M. Pascal on the list of audiences for to-morrow at three
+o'clock."
+
+An aide-de-camp was then presented, who asked if the prince could
+receive Count Frantz de Neuberg.
+
+"Certainly," said the archduke.
+
+After a few more moments' work with his secretary of ordinance, he gave
+the order to introduce Frantz.
+
+Frantz presented himself, blushing, before the prince, his godfather,
+for the young count was excessively timid, and unsophisticated to a
+degree that would make our experienced lads of twenty laugh. Brought up
+by a Protestant pastor in the depth of a German village belonging to one
+of the numerous possessions of the archduke, the godson of the Royal
+Highness had left this austere solitude, only to enter at sixteen years
+a military school devoted to the nobility, and kept with puritanical
+strictness. From that school, he went, by order of the prince, to serve
+in the Russian army as a volunteer in the wars of the Caucasus. The rude
+discipline of the camp; the severity of manners which characterised the
+old general to whom he had been sent and especially recommended by his
+royal godfather; the chain of sad and serious thought peculiar to brave
+but tender and melancholy souls; the sight of the fields of battle
+during a bitter war which knew no mercy nor pity; the habitual gravity
+of mind imparted to these same souls by the possibility if not the
+expectation of death, coolly braved every day in the midst of the most
+frightful perils; the mystery of his birth, to which was joined the pain
+of never having known the caresses of a father or a mother,--all had
+conspired to accentuate the natural reserve and timidity of his
+character, and increase the ingenuousness of his sincere and loving
+heart. In Frantz, as in many others, heroic courage was united with
+extreme and unconquerable timidity in the ordinary relations of life.
+
+Besides, whether from prudence, or other reason, the prince, during the
+six months passed in Germany after the young man had returned from the
+war, had kept his godson far from the court. This determination agreed
+marvellously with the simple and studious habits of Frantz, who found
+the highest happiness in an obscure and tranquil life. As to the
+sentiments he felt for the prince, his godfather, he was full of
+gratitude, loyalty, and respectful affection, the expression of which
+was greatly restrained by the imposing prestige of his royal protector's
+rank.
+
+The embarrassment of Frantz was so painful, when, after the departure of
+the secretary, he stood in the presence of his godfather, that for some
+time he remained silent, his eyes cast down.
+
+Fortunately, at the sight of the young man, the prince appeared to
+forget his laborious duties; his cold and haughty face relaxed, his brow
+grew clearer, a smile parted his lips, and he said, affectionately, to
+Frantz:
+
+"Good morning, my child."
+
+And taking the young man's blond head in his two hands, he kissed him
+tenderly on the forehead; then he added, as if he felt the need of
+opening his heart:
+
+"I am glad to see you, Frantz. I have been overwhelmed with business,
+sad business, this morning. Here, give me your arm and let us take a
+turn together in the garden."
+
+Frantz opened one of the glass doors which led to the steps opposite the
+lawn, and the godfather and godson, arm in arm, took their way to the
+shady walk in which the young man had promenaded so long that morning.
+
+"Now, what is the matter, my child?" said the prince, observing at once
+the embarrassment of the young man.
+
+"Monseigneur," replied Frantz, with increasing bashfulness, "I have a
+confidence to make to your Royal Highness."
+
+"A confidence!" repeated the prince, smiling. "Let us hear, then, the
+confidence of Count Frantz."
+
+"It is a very important confidence, monseigneur."
+
+"Well, what is this important confidence?"
+
+"Monseigneur, I have no parents. Your Royal Highness has, up to this
+time, deigned to stand for me in the place of family."
+
+"And you have bravely repaid my care, and fulfilled my hopes, my dear
+Frantz; you have even surpassed them. Modest, studious, and courageous,
+although a lad, three years ago, you fought with such intelligence and
+intrepidity in that terrible war to which I sent you for your first
+experience. You have received there your first wound, your baptism of
+fire. I will not speak of a duel, which I ought to ignore, but in which
+you have, I know, given proof of as much bravery as generosity."
+
+"Monseigneur--"
+
+"I pray you, let me in this moment recall all your claims to my
+tenderness. It does me good, it makes me forget the bitter vexations of
+which you are the innocent and involuntary cause."
+
+"I, monseigneur?"
+
+"You, because, if you continue to fill me with satisfaction, you cannot
+foresee the future which my loving ambition prepares for you,--the
+unhoped-for position which perhaps awaits you."
+
+"You know, monseigneur, the simplicity of my tastes, and--"
+
+"My dear Frantz," interrupted the prince, "this simplicity, this
+modesty, are virtues under certain conditions, while under other
+circumstances these virtues become weakness and indolence. But we are
+getting far away from the confidence. Come, what is it you have to tell
+me?"
+
+"Monseigneur--"
+
+"Well, speak; are you afraid of me? Is there a single thought in your
+heart which you cannot confess with a bold face and steady eye?"
+
+"No, monseigneur; so, without any evasion, I will tell your Highness
+that I wish to get married."
+
+If a thunderbolt had fallen at the feet of the prince he could not have
+been more astounded than he was at the words of Frantz; he rudely
+withdrew his arm from that of the young man, stepped back, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"You marry, Frantz?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"Why, you are a fool."
+
+"Monseigneur!"
+
+"You marry, and hardly twenty years old! You marry! When I was planning
+for you to--"
+
+Then the prince, regaining his self-possession, said, calmly and coldly:
+
+"And whom do you wish to marry, Frantz?"
+
+"Mlle. Antonine Hubert, monseigneur."
+
+"Who is this Mlle. Hubert? What did you say her name was?"
+
+"Hubert, monseigneur."
+
+"And what is Mlle. Hubert?"
+
+"The niece of a French magistrate, monseigneur, President Hubert."
+
+"And where have you made the acquaintance of this young lady?"
+
+"Here, monseigneur."
+
+"Here? I have never received any person of that name."
+
+"When I say here, monseigneur, I mean to say in this walk where we are."
+
+"Speak more clearly."
+
+"Your Royal Highness sees this wall of protection which separates the
+neighbouring garden?"
+
+"Yes, go on."
+
+"I was promenading in this walk when I saw Mlle. Antonine for the first
+time."
+
+"In this garden?" replied the prince, advancing to the wall, and taking
+a view of it. Then he added:
+
+"This young lady, then, lives in the next house?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur; her uncle occupies a part of the ground floor."
+
+"Very well."
+
+After a few minutes' reflection, the prince added, severely:
+
+"You have given me your confidence, Frantz. I accept it; but act with
+perfect candour, with the most thorough sincerity, if you do not--"
+
+"Monseigneur!" interrupted Frantz, in painful surprise.
+
+"Well, well, I was wrong to suspect your truthfulness, Frantz. You have
+never lied to me in your life. Speak, I will listen to you."
+
+"Your Royal Highness knows that, since our arrival in Paris, I have
+rarely gone out in the evening."
+
+"That is true; I am aware of your disinclination to society, and, too,
+of your excessive timidity, which increases your distaste for appearing
+at these dreaded French functions, where you are naturally a stranger. I
+have not insisted upon it, Frantz, and have allowed you to dispose of
+most of your evenings as you pleased."
+
+"In one of these evenings, monseigneur, six weeks ago, I saw Mlle.
+Antonine for the first time. She was watering flowers; I was leaning on
+my elbow there at the wall. She saw me; I saluted her. She returned my
+salutation, blushed, and continued to water her flowers; twice she
+looked up at me, and we bowed to each other again; then, as it grew dark
+entirely, Mlle. Antonine left the garden."
+
+It is impossible to reproduce the ingenuous grace with which poor Frantz
+made this artless recital of his first interview with the young girl.
+The emotion betrayed by his voice, the heightened colour of his face,
+all proved the honesty of this pure and innocent soul.
+
+"One question, Frantz," said the prince. "Has this young lady a mother?"
+
+"No, monseigneur, Mlle. Antonine lost her mother when she was in the
+cradle, and her father died some years ago."
+
+"Is her uncle, President Hubert, married?"
+
+"No, monseigneur."
+
+"How old is she?"
+
+"Fifteen years and a half, monseigneur."
+
+"And is she pretty?"
+
+"Antonine! monseigneur!"
+
+In this exclamation of Frantz, there was almost a reproach, as if it
+were possible for him not to recognise the beauty of Mlle. Antonine.
+
+"I ask you, Frantz," repeated the archduke, "if this young girl is
+pretty?"
+
+"Monseigneur, do you recollect the sleeping Hebe in the gallery of your
+palace of Offenbach?"
+
+"One of my finest Correggios."
+
+"Monseigneur, Mlle. Antonine resembles this painting by Correggio,
+although she is far more beautiful."
+
+"It would be difficult to be that."
+
+"Monseigneur knows that I always speak the truth," replied Frantz,
+ingenuously.
+
+"Well, go on with your story."
+
+"I cannot tell you, monseigneur, what I felt when returning to my
+chamber. I thought of Mlle. Antonine. I was agitated, troubled, and
+happy at the same time. I did not sleep all night. The moon rose; I
+opened my window, and remained on my balcony until day, looking at the
+tops of the trees in Mlle. Antonine's garden. Oh, monseigneur, how long
+the hours of the next day seemed to me! Before sunset, I was there again
+at the wall. At last mademoiselle came again to water her flowers. Every
+moment, thinking she had already seen me, I prepared to salute her, but
+I do not know how it happened, she did not see me. She came, however, to
+water flowers close to the wall where I was standing. I wanted to cough
+lightly to attract her attention, but I dared not. Night came on, my
+heart was broken, monseigneur, for still mademoiselle had not seen me.
+Finally, she returned to the house, after setting her little
+watering-pot near the fountain. Fortunately, thinking, no doubt, that it
+was out of place there, she returned, and set it on a bench near the
+wall. Then by chance, turning her eyes toward me, she discovered me at
+last. We saluted each other at the same time, monseigneur, and she went
+back into the house quickly. I then gathered some beautiful roses, and,
+trying to be very dexterous, although my heart was beating violently, I
+had the good luck to let the bouquet fall in the mouth of the
+watering-pot that mademoiselle had left there. When I returned to my
+room, I trembled to think what would be the thought of the young lady
+when she found these flowers. I was so uneasy, that I had a great mind
+to descend again and jump over the little wall and take the bouquet
+away. I do know what restrained me. Perhaps I hoped that Mlle. Antonine
+would not take offence at it. What a night I passed, monseigneur! The
+next day I ran to the wall; the watering-pot and the bouquet were there
+on the bench, but I waited in vain for Mlle. Antonine. She did not come
+that evening or the next day to look after her flowers. I cannot
+describe to you, monseigneur, the sadness and the anguish I endured
+those three days and nights, and you would have discovered my grief if
+you had not taken your departure just at that time."
+
+"For the journey to Fontainebleau, you mean?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur. But, pardon me; perhaps I am abusing the patience of
+your Royal Highness?"
+
+"No, no, Frantz, continue; on the contrary, I insist upon knowing all. I
+pray you, continue your story with the same sincerity."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+At the invitation of the archduke, Frantz de Neuberg continued his
+recital with charming frankness:
+
+"For three days Mlle. Antonine did not appear, monseigneur. Overwhelmed
+with sadness, and hoping nothing, I went, nevertheless, at the
+accustomed hour to the garden. What was my surprise, my joy,
+monseigneur, when, arriving near the wall, I saw just below me Mlle.
+Antonine, seated on the bench! She held in her hand, lying on her lap,
+my bouquet of roses, faded a long time; her head was bent over; I could
+only see her neck and the edge of her hair; she did not suspect I was
+there; I remained motionless, hardly daring to breathe, for fear I might
+drive her away by revealing my presence. Finally I grew bolder, and I
+said, trembling, for it was the first time I had spoken to her, 'Good
+evening, mademoiselle.' She trembled so that the faded bouquet fell out
+of her lap. She did not notice it, and, without changing her attitude or
+lifting her head, she replied, in a low voice, as agitated as my own,
+'Good evening, monsieur.' Seeing I was so well received, I added: 'You
+have not come to water your flowers for three days, mademoiselle.' 'That
+is true, monsieur,' answered she, in a broken voice, 'I have been a
+little sick.' 'Oh, my God!' I exclaimed, with such evident distress that
+mademoiselle raised her head a moment and looked at me. I saw, alas!
+that she was, monseigneur, really very pale, but she soon resumed her
+first attitude, and again I saw only her neck, which seemed to me to be
+slightly blushing: 'And now, mademoiselle, you are better?' 'Yes,
+monsieur,' said she. Then, after a short silence, I added: 'You will
+then be able to water your flowers every evening as you have done in the
+past.' 'I do not know, monsieur, I hope so.' 'And do you not feel afraid
+the fresh evening air will be injurious to you, after having been sick,
+mademoiselle?' 'You are right, monsieur,' replied she, 'I thank you, I
+am going back into the house.' And really, monseigneur, it had rained
+all the morning and it was growing very cold. The moment she left the
+bench I said to her: 'Mademoiselle, will you give me this faded bouquet
+which has fallen at your feet?' She picked it up and handed it to me in
+silence, without lifting her head or looking at me. I took it as a
+treasure, monseigneur, and soon Mlle. Antonine disappeared in a turn of
+the garden walk."
+
+The prince listened to his godson with profound attention. The frankness
+of this recital proved its sincerity. Until then, his only thought was
+that Frantz had been the sport of one of those Parisian coquettes, so
+dangerous to strangers, or the dupe of an adventurous and designing
+girl; but now a graver fear assailed him: a love like this, so chaste
+and pure, would, for reason of its purity, which banished all remorse
+from the minds of these two children,--one fifteen and a half and the
+other twenty,--become profoundly rooted in their hearts.
+
+Frantz, seeing the countenance of the prince grow more and more gloomy,
+and meeting his glance, which had regained its usual haughty coldness,
+stopped, utterly confounded.
+
+"So," said the archduke, sarcastically, when his godson discontinued his
+story, "you wish to marry a young girl to whom you have addressed three
+or four words, and whose rare beauty, as you say, has turned your head."
+
+"I hope to obtain the consent of your Royal Highness to marry Mlle.
+Antonine, because I love her, monseigneur, and it is impossible for our
+marriage to be postponed."
+
+At these words, so resolutely uttered in spite of the timidity of
+Frantz, the prince trembled and reproached himself for having believed
+it to be one of those chaste loves of such proverbial purity.
+
+"And why, sir," said the prince, in a threatening voice, "why cannot
+this marriage be postponed?"
+
+"Because I am a man of honour, monseigneur."
+
+"A man of honour! You are either a dishonest man, sir, or a dupe."
+
+"Monseigneur!"
+
+"You have basely abused the innocence of a child of fifteen years, I
+tell you, or you are her dupe. Parisian girls are precocious in the art
+of cheating husbands."
+
+Frantz looked at the prince a moment in silence, but without anger or
+confusion, vainly trying to ascertain the meaning of these words which
+touched him neither in his love nor in his honour.
+
+"Excuse me, monseigneur, I do not understand you."
+
+Frantz uttered these words with such an expression of sincerity, with
+such ingenuous assurance, that the prince, more and more astonished,
+added, after a moment's silence, looking at the young man with a
+penetrating gaze:
+
+"Did you not just tell me that your marriage with this young lady could
+not be deferred?"
+
+"No, monseigneur; with the permission of your Royal Highness, it ought
+not to be and will not be!"
+
+"Because without marriage you would be wanting in honour?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"And in what and why would you be wanting in honour, if you did not
+marry Mlle. Antonine?"
+
+"Because we have sworn before Heaven to belong to each other,
+monseigneur," replied Frantz, with restrained energy.
+
+The prince, half reassured, added, however:
+
+"And pray, under what circumstances have you exchanged this oath?"
+
+"Fearing to displease you, monseigneur, or fatigue your attention, I
+discontinued my story."
+
+"Well, continue it."
+
+"Monseigneur, I fear--"
+
+"Continue,--omit nothing. I wish to know all of this affair."
+
+"The uncle of mademoiselle went out in the evening, monseigneur, and she
+remained at home alone. The season was so beautiful that Mlle. Antonine
+spent all her evenings in the garden. We grew better acquainted with
+each other; we talked long together many times,--she, on the little
+bench, I, leaning on my elbow on the wall; she told me all about her
+life; I told her about mine, and, above all, monseigneur, my respectful
+affection for you, to whom I owe so much. Mlle. Antonine shares this
+moment my profound gratitude to your Royal Highness."
+
+At this point of the conversation, the sound of a gradually approaching
+step attracted the attention of the prince. He turned and saw one of his
+aids, who advanced, but stopped respectfully at a little distance. At a
+sign from the archduke, the officer came forward.
+
+"What is it, sir?" asked the prince.
+
+"His Excellence, the minister of war, has just arrived; he is at the
+order of your Royal Highness for the visit which is to be made to the
+Hotel des Invalides."
+
+"Say to his Excellence that I will be with him in a moment."
+
+As the aide-de-camp departed, the prince turned coldly to Frantz, and
+said:
+
+"Return to your apartments, monsieur; you are under arrest until the
+moment of your departure."
+
+"My departure, monseigneur?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My departure?" repeated Frantz, amazed. "Oh, my God! And where are you
+going to send me, monseigneur?"
+
+"You will see. I shall confide you to the care of Major Butler; he will
+answer for you to me. Before twenty-four hours you shall leave Paris."
+
+"Mercy, monseigneur!" cried Frantz, in a supplicating voice, not able to
+believe what he had heard. "Have pity on me, and do not compel me to
+depart."
+
+"Return to your apartments," said the prince, with the severity of a
+military command, making a sign for Frantz to pass before him. "I never
+revoke an order once given. Obey!"
+
+Frantz, overwhelmed, returned in sadness to his chamber, situated on the
+first floor of the palace, not far from the apartment of the archduke,
+and looking out upon the garden. At seven o'clock a dinner was served
+the young prisoner, which he did not touch. Night came, and Frantz, to
+his great astonishment, and to his deep and painful humiliation, heard
+his outside doors fastened with a double lock. Toward midnight, when the
+whole palace was asleep, he opened his window softly, went out on the
+balcony, and leaning outside, succeeded, with the aid of his cane, in
+removing a little of the wall plastered on one of the posts of a
+window-blind on the ground floor. It was on this tottering support that
+Frantz, with as much dexterity as temerity, having straddled the balcony
+railing, set the point of his foot; then, aiding himself by the rounds
+of the blind as a ladder, he reached the ground, ran into the shady
+walk, jumped the little wall, and soon found himself in the garden of
+the house occupied by Antonine.
+
+Although the moon was veiled by thick clouds, a dim light shone under
+the great trees which had served as a place of meeting for Antonine and
+Frantz; at the end of a few moments, he perceived at a distance a figure
+in white, rapidly approaching; the young girl soon approached him and
+said, in a voice which betrayed her excitement:
+
+"I came only for one minute, that you might not be disappointed, Frantz.
+I have taken advantage of my uncle's sleep; he is very sick, and I
+cannot stay away from him a longer time. Good-bye, Frantz," added
+Antonine, with a deep sigh; "it is very sad to part so soon, but it must
+be. Good-bye, again,--perhaps I can see you to-morrow."
+
+The young man was so crushed by the news he had to communicate to the
+young girl that he had not the strength to interrupt her. Then, in a
+voice broken by sobs, he exclaimed:
+
+"Antonine, we are lost!"
+
+"Lost!"
+
+"I am going away."
+
+"You!"
+
+"The prince compels me to go."
+
+"Oh, my God!" murmured Antonine, turning pale and leaning for support on
+the back of the rustic bench. "Oh, my God!"
+
+And, unable to utter another word, she burst into tears. After a
+heartrending silence, she said:
+
+"And you hoped for the consent of the prince, Frantz."
+
+"Alas! I hoped to obtain it by simply telling him how much I loved you,
+and how much you deserved that love. The prince is inflexible."
+
+"To go away,--to be separated from each other, Frantz," murmured
+Antonine, in a broken voice; "but it is not possible,--it would kill us
+both with sorrow, and the prince would not do that."
+
+"His will is inflexible; but whatever may happen," cried Frantz, falling
+at the young girl's knees, "yes, although I am a foreigner here, without
+family, without knowing what may be the consequence, I will stay in
+spite of the prince. Have courage, Antonine--"
+
+[Illustration: "_'Monseigneur, listen to me.'_"
+
+Original etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+Frantz could not continue; he saw a light shining in the distance, and a
+voice in great pain called:
+
+"Mlle. Antonine!"
+
+"My God! that is my uncle's nurse,--she is looking for me!" cried the
+young girl; then, turning to Frantz, she said, "Frantz, if you go away,
+I shall die."
+
+And Antonine disappeared in the direction of the light.
+
+The young man, overcome by grief, fell on the bench, hiding his face in
+his hands. Presently he heard a voice, coming down the walk in the
+garden of the Elysee, calling him by name:
+
+"Frantz!"
+
+He started, thinking it was the voice of the prince; he was not
+mistaken. A second time his name was called.
+
+Fear, the habit of passive obedience, and his respect for the archduke,
+as well as his gratitude, led Frantz back to the little wall which
+separated the two gardens; behind this wall he saw the prince standing
+in the light of the moon. The prince extended his hand with haughty
+reserve, and assisted him to regain the walk.
+
+"Immediately upon my return, I entered your apartment," said the
+archduke, severely. "I did not find you. Your open window told me all.
+Now, follow me."
+
+"Monseigneur," cried Frantz, throwing himself at the feet of the prince,
+and clasping his hands, "monseigneur, listen to me."
+
+"Major Butler," said the prince, in a loud voice, addressing a person
+who until then had been hidden by the shade, "accompany Count Frantz to
+his apartment, and do not leave him a moment. I hold you responsible for
+him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+The day after these events had transpired the archduke, dressed always
+in his uniform, for he carried military etiquette to its most extreme
+limit, was in his study about two o'clock in the afternoon. One of his
+aids, a man about forty years old, of calm and resolute countenance, was
+standing before the table on the side opposite the prince, who was
+seated, writing, with a haughtier, severer, and more care-worn manner
+than usual. As he wrote, without raising his eyes to the officer, he
+said to him:
+
+"Is Captain Blum with Count Frantz?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"You have just seen the physician."
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"What does he think of the count's condition?"
+
+"He finds it more satisfactory, monseigneur."
+
+"Does he think Count Frantz can support the fatigues of the journey
+without danger?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"Major Butler, go and give the order at once to prepare one of my
+travelling carriages."
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"This evening at six o'clock you will depart with Count Frantz. Here is
+the guide for your route," added the prince, handing to his aid the note
+he had just written.
+
+Then he remarked:
+
+"Major Butler, you will not wait long for the proofs of my satisfaction
+if you accomplish, with your usual devotion and firmness, the mission I
+entrust to you."
+
+"Your Highness can rely upon me."
+
+"I know it, but I also know that, once recovering from his present
+dejection, and being no longer restrained by his respect for me, Count
+Frantz will certainly try to escape from your care along the route, and
+to get back to Paris at any risk. If this misfortune happens, sir, take
+care, for all my resentment will fall on you."
+
+"I am certain that I shall not be undeserving of the kindness of your
+Highness."
+
+"I hope so. Do not forget, too, to write to me twice a day until you
+reach the frontier."
+
+"I will not fail, monseigneur."
+
+"Upon your arrival on the territory of the Rhine provinces, send a
+despatch to the military authority."
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"The end of your journey reached, you will inform me, and you will
+receive new orders from me."
+
+At this moment the prince, hearing a light knock at the door, said to
+the major:
+
+"See who that is."
+
+Another aide-de-camp handed the officer a letter, and said, in a low
+voice:
+
+"The envoy from Mexico has just sent this letter for his Highness."
+
+And the aide-de-camp went out.
+
+The major presented the letter to the prince, informing him whence it
+came.
+
+"I recommend to you once more the strictest vigilance, Major Butler,"
+said the archduke, putting aside the letter from the Mexican envoy
+without opening it. "You will answer to me in conducting Count Frantz to
+the frontier."
+
+"I give you my word, monseigneur."
+
+"Go, major, I accept your word, I know its value. If you keep it, you
+will have only cause for congratulation. So, make your preparation to
+leave at six o'clock promptly. Diesbach will provide you with the money
+necessary for your journey."
+
+The major bowed respectfully.
+
+"Say to Colonel Heidelberg that, after a few minutes, he can introduce
+the envoy of Mexico and the person who accompanies him."
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+The officer bowed profoundly, and went out.
+
+The prince, left alone, said to himself as he slowly unsealed the letter
+which had been delivered to him:
+
+"I must save this unhappy young man from his own folly. Such a marriage!
+It is insanity. Well, I must be mad myself to feel so disturbed about
+the consequences of this foolish passion of Frantz, as if I had not
+complete power over him. It is not anger, it is pity which his conduct
+ought to inspire in me."
+
+In the midst of these reflections the prince had broken the seal of the
+letter and glanced perfunctorily over its contents. Suddenly he jumped
+up from his armchair; his haughty features took on an expression of
+righteous indignation, as he said:
+
+"The Marquise de Miranda, that infernal woman who recently created such
+a scandal in Bologna,--almost a revolution,--by exposing that
+unfortunate cardinal to the hisses and the fury of an entire populace
+already so much disaffected! Oh, on no pretext will I receive that
+shameless creature."
+
+And the prince sprang to the door to give the order not to admit the
+marquise.
+
+He was too late.
+
+The folding doors opened at that very moment, and she entered,
+accompanied by the envoy of Mexico.
+
+Taking advantage of the surprise of the archduke, the cause of which he
+did not understand, the diplomatist bowed profoundly, and said:
+
+"Monseigneur, I dare hope that your Highness will accept the excuses I
+have just had the honour of offering you by letter on the subject of my
+omission yesterday of an important formality. I ought to have mentioned
+the name of the person for whom I solicited the favour of an audience
+from your Highness. I have repaired this omission, and now it only
+remains for me to have the honour of presenting to your Highness the
+Marquise de Miranda, who bears a distinguished name in our country, and
+to commend her to the kindness of your Highness."
+
+The diplomatist, taking the prolonged silence of the prince for a
+dismissal, bowed respectfully, and went out, not a little disappointed
+at so cold a reception.
+
+Madeleine and the archduke were left alone.
+
+The marquise was, according to her custom, as simply and amply dressed
+as on the day before; only, by chance or intention, a little veil of
+English point adorned her hood of white crape, and almost entirely hid
+her face.
+
+The prince, whose manners partook at the same time of military harshness
+and religious austerity,--his love for the mother of Frantz having been
+his first and only youthful error,--looked with a sort of aversion upon
+this woman, who, in his eyes, symbolised the most profound and most
+dangerous perversity, for popular rumour accused the marquise of
+attacking, by preference, with her seductions, persons of the most
+imposing and sacred character; and then, finally, the widely known
+adventure with the cardinal legate had, as the archduke believed, been
+followed by such deplorable consequences that a sentiment of political
+revenge was added to his hatred of Madeleine. So, notwithstanding his
+cold and polished dignity, he thought at first of dismissing his
+importunate visitor unceremoniously, or of disdainfully retiring into
+another chamber without uttering a word. But finally, the curiosity to
+see this woman about whom so many strange rumours were in circulation,
+and, above all, a keen desire to treat her with that contempt which in
+his opinion she deserved, modified his resolution. He remained; but
+instead of offering a seat to Madeleine, who studied his face
+attentively through her veil, he leaned his back squarely against the
+chimney, crossed his arms, and, with his head thrown back, his eyebrows
+imperiously elevated, he measured her with all the haughtiness of his
+sovereign pride, shut himself up in a chilling silence, and said to her
+not one word of encouragement or common civility.
+
+The marquise, accustomed to produce a very different impression, and
+feeling, unconsciously perhaps, a kind of intimidation which many
+persons feel in the presence of high rank, particularly when it is
+identified with such insolent arrogance, was abashed by such a crushing
+reception, when she had hoped so much from the courtesy of the prince.
+
+However, as she was acting for interests she believed to be sacred, and
+as she was brave, she conquered her emotion, and, as the Spanish proverb
+naturalised in Mexico says, she resolved bravely to "take the bull by
+the horns." So, seating herself carelessly in an armchair, she said to
+the prince, with the easiest and most smiling manner in the world:
+
+"I come, monseigneur, simply to ask two things of you, one almost
+impossible and the other altogether impossible."
+
+The archduke was confounded; his sovereign rank, his dignity, the
+severity of his character, his inflexible code of etiquette, always so
+powerful in the courts of the North, had accustomed him to see women,
+even, approach him with the most humble respect. Judge, then, of his
+dismay when Madeleine continued gaily, with familiar ease:
+
+"You do not reply, monseigneur? How shall I interpret the silence of
+your Highness? Is it reflection? Is it timidity, or is it consent? Can
+it be impoliteness? Impoliteness? No, I cannot believe that. In
+touching the soil of France, slaves become free, and men with the least
+gallantry at once assume an exquisite courtesy."
+
+The prince, almost crazed by the amazement and anger produced by these
+audacious words, remained silent.
+
+The marquise continued, smiling:
+
+"Nothing? Not a word? Come, monseigneur, what is the real significance
+of the continued speechlessness of your Highness? Again I ask, is it
+reflection? Then reflect. Is it timidity? Then overcome it. Is it
+impoliteness? Remember that we are in France, and that I am a woman. But
+can I, on the contrary, regard your silence as a blind consent to what I
+am going to ask of you? Then say so at once, that I may at least inform
+you what are the favours that you grant me so graciously beforehand, and
+for which I desire to thank you cordially."
+
+Then Madeleine, taking off her gloves, extended her hand to the
+archduke. That perfect little hand, white, delicate, tapering,
+fluttering, veined with azure, whose finger-nails resembled
+rose-coloured shells, attracted the attention of the prince; in all his
+life he had never seen such a hand. But soon, ashamed, revolting at the
+thought of yielding to such a triviality at such an important moment,
+the blush of indignation mounted to his brow, and he sought some word
+superlatively scornful and wounding, that he might crush, with a single
+club-like blow, this presumptuous woman, whose insolence had already
+lasted too long for the dignity of an archduke.
+
+Unfortunately, the prince was more accustomed to command his troops, or
+to receive the homage of courtiers, than to find crushing words on the
+spur of the moment, especially when they were wanted to crush a young
+and pretty woman; nevertheless, he persisted in seeking.
+
+This serene cogitation gave Madeleine the time to hide her hand under
+her large sleeves, and to say to the prince, with a mischievous smile:
+
+"There is no longer room for doubt, monseigneur, that the silence of
+your Highness is due to timidity, and, too, to German timidity. I am
+acquainted with that. After the timidity of the scholar, there is none
+more unconquerable, and, therefore, more venerable, but there are
+limitations to everything. So, I beg you, monseigneur, recover yourself.
+I do not think there is anything in me calculated to awe your Highness,"
+added the marquise, without lifting the veil which concealed her
+features.
+
+The archduke was unfortunate; in spite of his desire, he could not find
+the crushing word, but, feeling how ridiculous his position was
+becoming, he said;
+
+"I do not know, madame, how you dared to present yourself here."
+
+"But I present myself here in accordance with your consent,
+monseigneur."
+
+"When you requested an audience yesterday, I did not know your name,
+madame."
+
+"And what has my name done to you, monseigneur?"
+
+"Your name, madame? Your name?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"Your name has been the scandal of Germany; you have made the most
+spiritual of our poets a pagan, an idolater, a materialist."
+
+"Indeed, monseigneur," replied Madeleine, with an accent of simplicity
+quite provincial, "that was not my fault."
+
+"It was not your fault?"
+
+"And then, where is the great evil, monseigneur? Your religious poet
+made mediocre verses, but now he writes magnificent ones."
+
+"They are only the more dangerous, madame. And his soul,--his soul?"
+
+"His soul has passed into his verses, monseigneur, so now it is twice
+immortal."
+
+"And the cardinal legate, madame?"
+
+"At least, you cannot reproach me for having injured his soul, for he
+had none."
+
+"What, madame! have you not sufficiently vilified the sacred character
+of the prince of the Church, this priest who until then was so austere,
+this statesman who for twenty years was the terror of the impious and
+the seditious? Have you not delivered him to the contempt, the hatred,
+of wicked people? But for unexpected succour, they would have murdered
+him; in short, madame, were you not on the point of revolutionising
+Bologna?"
+
+"Ah, monseigneur, you flatter me."
+
+"And you dare, madame, to present yourself in the palace of a prince who
+has so much interest in the peace and submission of Germany and Italy?
+You dare come to ask favours of me,--things that you yourself say are
+impossible or almost impossible? And in what tone do you make this
+inconceivable request? In a tone familiar and jesting, as if you were
+certain of obtaining anything from me. You have made a mistake, madame,
+a great mistake! I resemble, I give you fair warning, neither the poet,
+Moser-Hartmann, nor the cardinal legate, nor many others, they say you
+have bewitched; in truth, your impudence would seem to be more like a
+dream or nightmare than reality. But who are you then, madame, you who
+think yourself so far above respect and duty as to treat me as an
+equal,--me, whom the princesses of royal families approach only with
+deference?"
+
+"Alas, monseigneur! I am only a poor woman," replied Madeleine.
+
+And she threw back the veil which had concealed her face from the eyes
+of the archduke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+The prince, carried away by the vehemence of his furious indignation,
+had, as he talked, come nearer and nearer the marquise, who still sat at
+her ease in the armchair.
+
+When she threw back her veil, at the same time throwing her head back
+lightly, so as to be able to fix her eyes upon the eyes of the prince,
+he stood motionless, and experienced that mingling of surprise,
+admiration, and involuntary pain which almost everybody felt at the
+sight of that charming face, to which a pallid complexion, large azure
+blue eyes, black eyebrows, and blonde hair gave a fascination so
+singular.
+
+This profound impression made upon the prince, Charles Dutertre had also
+received, notwithstanding his love for his wife, notwithstanding the
+agonising fears of ruin and disaster by which he was besieged.
+
+For a few seconds the archduke remained, so to speak, under the
+fascination of this fixed, penetrating gaze, in which the marquise
+endeavoured to concentrate all the attraction, all the magnetism which
+was in her, and to cast it into the eyes of the prince, for the
+projecting power of Madeleine's glance was, so to speak, intermittent,
+subject, if we may use the expression, to pulsations; so at each of
+these pulsations, the rebound of which he seemed to feel physically, the
+archduke started involuntarily; his icy pride appeared to melt like snow
+in the sun; his haughty attitude seemed to bend; his arrogant
+countenance betrayed inexpressible uneasiness.
+
+Suddenly Madeleine pulled her veil over her face, bowed her head, and
+tried to efface herself as much as possible under the ample folds of her
+mantle and trailing robe, which completely hid her small foot, as her
+wide sleeves hid the beautiful hand she had extended to the prince, who
+now saw before him only an undefined and chastely veiled form.
+
+The most provoking coquetry, the boldest exposure of personal charms,
+would have been ingenuousness itself compared to this mysterious
+reserve, which, concealing from view the whole person from the point of
+the foot to the tips of the fingers, gave free rein to the imagination,
+which took fire at the recollection of the wonderful stories of the
+marquise current in Paris.
+
+When Madeleine's face again disappeared under her veil, the prince,
+delivered from the influence which had held him in spite of himself,
+regained his self-possession, roughly curbed his weakness, and, as a
+safeguard against all dangerous allurement, forced himself to ponder the
+deplorable adventures which proved how fatal was the power of this woman
+over men known to be strong and inexorable.
+
+But alas! the fall or transformation of these men only brought back more
+forcibly the irresistible fascination of the marquise. He felt the grave
+and imminent peril, but every one knows the attraction of danger.
+
+In vain the prince argued with himself, that, naturally phlegmatic, he
+had attained the maturity of age without ever having submitted to the
+empire of those gross passions which degrade men. In vain he said to
+himself that he was a prince of the royal blood, that he owed it to the
+sovereign dignity of his rank not to debase himself by yielding to
+shameful enticements. In a word, the unhappy archduke philosophised
+marvellously well, but as uselessly as a man who, seeing in terror that
+he is rolling down a steep declivity, gravely philosophises upon the
+delightful advantages of repose.
+
+Words, phrases, and pages are necessary to portray impressions as
+instantaneous as thought, and all that we have described at such length,
+from the moment Madeleine lifted her veil to the moment she dropped it
+again, transpired in a few seconds, and the archduke, in the midst of
+his efforts at self-restraint, unconsciously, no doubt,--so much did his
+philosophy disengage his mind from matter,--tried, we say, yes, tried
+again to see Madeleine's features through the lace which concealed them.
+
+"I told you, monseigneur," said the marquise, holding her head down from
+the covetous and anxious gaze of the archduke, "I told you that I was a
+poor widow who values her reputation, and who really does not deserve
+your severity."
+
+"Madame--"
+
+"Oh, I do not reproach you, monseigneur. You, no doubt, like many
+others, believe certain rumours--"
+
+"Rumours, madame!" cried the archduke, delighted to feel his anger
+kindle again. "Rumours! The scandalous apostasy of the poet,
+Moser-Hartmann, was a rumour, was it?"
+
+"What you call his apostasy is a fact, monseigneur; that may be, but--"
+
+"Perhaps the degradation of the cardinal legate was also a vain rumour?"
+continued the archduke, impetuously interrupting Madeleine.
+
+"That may be a fact, monseigneur, but--"
+
+"So, madame, you confess yourself that--"
+
+"Pardon me, monseigneur, listen to me. I am called Madeleine; it is the
+name of a great sinner, as you know."
+
+"She received pardon, madame."
+
+"Yes, because she loved much; nevertheless, believe me, monseigneur, I
+am not seeking an excuse in the example of the life of my patron saint.
+I have done nothing which requires pardon, no, nothing, absolutely
+nothing, monseigneur. That seems to astonish you very much. So, to make
+myself entirely understood, which is quite embarrassing, I shall be
+obliged, at the risk of appearing pedantic, to appeal to the classical
+knowledge of Your Highness."
+
+"What do you mean, madame?"
+
+"Something very odd; but the acrimony of your reproaches, as well as
+other reasons, compels me to a confession, or rather to a very singular
+justification."
+
+"Madame, explain yourself."
+
+"You know, monseigneur, upon what condition the vestal virgins at Rome
+were chosen?"
+
+"Certainly, madame," replied the prince, with a modest blush, and, he
+added, ingenuously, "but I cannot see what relation--"
+
+"Ah, well, monseigneur," interrupted Madeleine, smiling at the Germanism
+of the prince, "if we were at Rome under the empire of the Caesars, I
+would have every possible right to keep the sacred fire on the altar of
+the chaste goddess. In a word, I am a widow without ever having been
+married; because, upon my return from Europe the Marquis de Miranda, my
+relative and benefactor, died, and he married me on his death-bed that
+he might leave me his name and his fortune."
+
+The accent of truth is irresistible, and the prince at once believed the
+words of Madeleine, in spite of the amazement produced by this
+revelation so diametrically opposite to the rumours of adventures and
+gallantries which were rife about the marquise.
+
+The astonishment of the prince was mingled with a vague satisfaction
+which he did not care to estimate. However, fearing he might fall into a
+snare, he said, no longer with passion, but with a sorrowful
+recrimination:
+
+"You count too much on my credulity, madame. What! when just now you
+confessed to me that--"
+
+"I beg your pardon, monseigneur; do me the favour to reply to a few
+questions."
+
+"Speak, madame."
+
+"You certainly have all the valiant exterior of a man of war,
+monseigneur, and when I saw you in Vienna, mounted on your beautiful
+battle-horse, proudly cross the Prater, followed by your aides-de-camp,
+I often said, 'That is my type of an army general; there is a man made
+to command soldiers.'"
+
+"You saw me in Vienna?" asked the archduke, whose voice softened
+singularly. "You observed me there?"
+
+"Fortunately you did not know it, monseigneur, or you would have exiled
+me, would you not?"
+
+"Well," replied the prince, smiling, "I fear so."
+
+"Come, that is gallantry; I like you better so. I was saying to you,
+then, monseigneur, that you have the exterior of a valiant man of war,
+and your character responds to this exterior. But will you not confess
+to me that sometimes the most martial figure may hide a poltroon--"
+
+"No one better understands that than I. I had under my orders a
+major-general who had the most ferocious-looking personality that could
+be imagined, and he was the most arrant coward."
+
+"You will admit again, monseigneur, that sometimes the most
+contemptible-looking personality may hide a hero."
+
+"Certainly, Frederick the Great, Prince Eugene, were not great in
+manner--"
+
+"Alas! monseigneur, it is even so, and I, on the contrary, am different
+from these great men; unfortunately, I have too much manner."
+
+"What do you mean, madame?"
+
+"Ah, my God, yes! I am like the coward who makes everybody tremble by
+his stern appearance, and who is really more afraid than the most
+cowardly of the cowards he intimidates. In a word, I inspire that which
+I do not feel; picture to yourself, monseigneur, the poor icicle
+carrying around him flame and conflagration. And I would have the
+presumption to call myself a phenomenon if I did not recollect that the
+beautiful fruits of my country, so bright-coloured, so delicate, so
+fragrant, awaken in me a furious appetite, without sharing the least in
+the world the fine appetite they give, or ever feeling the slightest
+desire to be crunched. It is so with me, monseigneur, it seems that as
+innocently as the fruits of my country I excite, in some respects, the
+hunger of an ogre, I who am of a cenobitic frugality. So now I have
+concluded to be no longer astonished at the influence I exercise
+involuntarily, but as, after all, this action is powerful, inasmuch as
+it excites the most violent passions of men, I try to elicit the best
+that is possible from my victims, either for themselves or for the good
+of others, and that, I swear without coquetry, deception, or promises,
+if one says to me, 'I am passionately in love with you,' I answer,
+'Well, cherish your passion, perhaps its fire will melt my ice, perhaps
+the lava will hide itself in me under the snow. Fan your flame, then,
+let it burn until it wins me; I ask nothing better, for I am as free as
+the air, and I am twenty-two years old.'"
+
+As she uttered these words, Madeleine raised her head, lifted her veil,
+and gazed intently at the archduke.
+
+The marquise spoke truly, for her passion for her blond archangel, of
+whom she had talked to Sophie Dutertre, had never had anything
+terrestrial in it.
+
+The prince believed Madeleine; first, because truth almost always
+carries conviction with it, then, because he felt happy in putting faith
+in the words of the young woman. He blushed less in acknowledging to
+himself the profound and sudden impression produced on him by this
+singular creature, when he realised that, after all, she had been worthy
+of guarding the sacred fire of Vesta; so, the imprudent man, his eyes
+fixed on the eyes of Madeleine, contemplating them with passionate
+eagerness, drank at leisure the enchanted love-potion.
+
+Madeleine resumed, smiling:
+
+"At this moment, monseigneur, you are asking yourself, I am sure, a
+question which I often ask myself."
+
+"What is that, pray?"
+
+"You are asking yourself (to speak like an old-time romance), 'Who is he
+who will make me share his passion?' Ah, well, I, too, am very anxious
+to penetrate the future on this subject."
+
+"That future, nevertheless, depends on you."
+
+"No, monseigneur, to draw music from the lyre, some one must make it
+vibrate."
+
+"And who will that happy mortal be?"
+
+"My God! who knows? Perhaps you, monseigneur."
+
+"I!" cried the prince, charmed, transported. "I!"
+
+"I say perhaps."
+
+"Oh, what must I do?"
+
+"Please me."
+
+"And how shall I do that?"
+
+"Listen, monseigneur."
+
+"I pray you, do not call me monseigneur; it is too ceremonious."
+
+"Oh, oh, monseigneur; it is a great favour for a prince to be treated
+with familiarity; he must deserve it. You ask me how you may please me.
+I will give you not an example, but a fact. The poet, Moser-Hartmann,
+whose apostasy you say I caused, addressed to me the most singular
+remark in the world. One day he met me at the house of a mutual friend,
+looked at me a long time, and then said, with an air of angry alarm:
+'Madame, for the peace of spirituality, you ought to be buried alive!'
+And he went out, but next day he came to see me, madly in love, a
+victim, he told me, to a sudden passion,--as sudden and novel as it was
+uncontrollable. 'Let your passion burn,' I said to him, 'but hear the
+advice of a friend; the passion devours you, let it flow in your verse.
+Become a great poet, and perhaps your glory will intoxicate me.'"
+
+"And did the inebriation ever come to you?" said the prince.
+
+"No, but glory has come to my lover to console him, and a poet can be
+consoled for the loss of everything by glory. Ah, well, monseigneur,
+have I used my influence well or ill?"
+
+Suddenly the archduke started.
+
+A keen suspicion pierced his heart. Dissimulating this painful doubt, he
+said to Madeleine, with a forced smile:
+
+"But, madame, your adventure with the cardinal legate did not have so
+happy an end for him. What is left to console him?"
+
+"There rests with him the consciousness of having delivered a country
+that abhorred him from his presence," replied Madeleine, gaily. "Is
+there nothing in that, monseigneur?"
+
+"Come now, between us, what interest had you in making this unhappy man
+the victim of a terrible scandal?"
+
+"How! What interest, monseigneur? What but the interest of unmasking an
+infamous hypocrite, of chasing him out of a city that he oppressed,--in
+short, to cover him with contempt and shame. 'I believe in your
+passion,' said I to him, 'and perhaps I may share it if you will mask as
+a Hungarian hussar, and come with me to the ball of the Rialto, my dear
+cardinal; it is an extravagant, foolish caprice on my part, no doubt,
+but that is my condition, and, besides, who will recognise you under the
+mask?' This horrible priest had his head turned; he accepted, and I
+destroyed him."
+
+"And you will destroy me, madame, as you did the cardinal legate," cried
+the archduke, rising and making a supreme effort to break the charm
+whose irresistible power he already felt. "I see the snare; I have
+enemies; you wish by your perfidious seductions, to drag me into some
+dangerous proceeding, and afterwards to hand me over to the contempt
+and ridicule that my weakness would deserve. But, bless God! he has
+opened my eyes in time. I recognise with horror that infernal
+fascination which took from me the use of my reason, and which was not
+love even,--no, I yielded to the grossest, most degrading passion which
+can lower man to the level of a brute, to that passion which, to my
+shame and to yours, I desire to stigmatise aloud as lust, madame!"
+
+Madeleine shrugged her shoulders and began to laugh derisively, then
+rising from her seat and walking up to the prince, who had stepped back
+to the chimney, she took him gently by the hand, and led him back to a
+chair near her own, without his having the strength to resist this
+peaceable violence.
+
+"Do me the favour to listen to me, monseigneur," said Madeleine. "I have
+only a few more words to say to you, and then you will not see the
+Marquise de Miranda again in your life."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+When Madeleine had seated the prince near her, she said to him:
+
+"Listen, monseigneur, I will be frank, so frank that I defy you not to
+believe me. I came here with the hope of turning your head."
+
+"So," cried the prince, astonished, "you confess it!"
+
+"Entirely. That end attained, I wished to use my influence over you, to
+obtain, as I told you, monseigneur, at the beginning of our interview,
+two things, one considered almost impossible, the other as altogether
+impossible."
+
+"You are right, madame, to defy me not to believe you," replied the
+prince, with a constrained smile. "I believe you."
+
+"The two deeds that I wished to obtain from you were great, noble, and
+generous; they would have made you esteemed and respected. That is very
+far, I think, from wishing to abuse my influence over you to excite you
+to evil or indignity, as you suppose."
+
+"Well, madame, come to the point; what is it?"
+
+"First, an act of clemency, or rather of justice, which would rally
+around you a multitude of hearts in Lombardy,--the free and full pardon
+of Colonel Pernetti."
+
+The prince jumped up from his chair, and exclaimed:
+
+"Never, madame, never!"
+
+"The free and full pardon of Colonel Pernetti, one of the most honoured
+men in all Italy," pursued Madeleine, without noticing the interruption
+of the prince. "The reasonable pride of this noble-hearted man will
+prevent his asking you for the slightest alleviation of his woes, but
+come generously to his relief, and his gratitude will assure you of his
+devotion."
+
+"I repeat to you, madame, that important reasons of state oppose your
+request. It is impossible, altogether impossible."
+
+"To be sure. I began, you know, by telling you that, monseigneur. As to
+the other thing, doubtless more impossible still, it simply concerns
+your consent to the marriage of a young man whom you have brought up."
+
+"I!" cried the archduke, as if he could not believe his ears. "I,
+consent to the marriage of Count Frantz?"
+
+"I do not know if he is a count, but I do know that his name is Frantz,
+since it was told me this morning by Mlle. Antonine Hubert, an angel of
+sweetness and beauty, whom I have loved from her childhood, and for whom
+I feel the tenderness of a mother and a sister."
+
+"Madame, in three hours from this moment Count Frantz will have left
+Paris,--that is my reply."
+
+"My God, monseigneur, that is admirable! All this is impossible,
+absolutely impossible. I say again, I admit that it is impossible!"
+
+"Then, madame, why do you ask it?"
+
+"Why, to obtain it, of course, monseigneur."
+
+"What! notwithstanding all I have just said to you, you dare hope
+still?"
+
+"I have that presumption, monseigneur."
+
+"Such self-conceit--"
+
+"Is very modest because I am not counting on my presence."
+
+"On what, then, madame, do you rely?"
+
+"On my absence, monseigneur," said Madeleine, rising.
+
+"On your absence?"
+
+"On your remembrance, if you prefer it."
+
+"You are going," said the prince, unable to conceal his regret and
+vexation, "you are going so soon?"
+
+"It is my last and only means of bringing you to an agreement."
+
+"But really, madame----"
+
+"Wait, monseigneur, do you wish me to tell you what is going to happen?"
+
+"Let us hear, madame."
+
+"I am going to leave you. At first you will be relieved of a great
+burden; my presence will no longer beset you with all sorts of
+temptations, which have their agony as well as their charm; you will
+banish me entirely from your thoughts. Unfortunately, by degrees, and in
+spite of yourself, I will return to occupy your thoughts; my mysterious,
+veiled figure will follow you everywhere; you will feel still more how
+little there is of the platonic in your inclination toward me, and these
+sentiments will become only more irritating and more obstinate.
+To-morrow, the next day, perhaps, reflecting that, after all, I asked
+noble and generous actions only of you, you will bitterly regret my
+departure, but it will be too late, monseigneur."
+
+"Too late?"
+
+"Too late for you; not for me. I have taken it into my head that Colonel
+Pernetti will have his pardon, and that Count Frantz will marry
+Antonine. You understand, monseigneur, that it must be."
+
+"In spite of me?"
+
+"In spite of you."
+
+"That would be rather difficult."
+
+"So it is. But, let us see, monseigneur, to mention to you only facts
+which you already know; when one has known how to induce the cardinal
+legate to masquerade as a Hungarian hussar, when one has known how to
+create a great poet by the fire of a single glance, when one has known
+how to render amorous--and I humbly confess I use the expression in its
+earthly sense--a man like you, monseigneur, it is evident that one can
+accomplish something else also. You force, do you not, this poor Count
+Frantz to leave Paris? But the journey is long, and before he is out of
+France I have two days before me. A little delay in the pardon of
+Colonel Pernetti will be nothing for him, and, after all, his pardon
+does not depend on you alone, monseigneur; you cannot imagine to what
+point the rebound of influence may reach, and, thank God, here in France
+I have the means and the liberty to act. Is it war that you wish,
+monseigneur? Then let it be war. I depart, and I leave you already
+wounded,--that is to say, in love. Ah, my God! although I have a right
+to be proud of my success, it is not vanity which makes me insist upon
+the sudden impression I have made on you; because, to tell the truth, I
+have not employed the least coquetry in all this; almost always I have
+kept my veil down, and I am dressed as a veritable grandmother. Well,
+good-bye, monseigneur. At least do me the favour to accompany me to the
+door of your front parlour; war does not forbid courtesy."
+
+The archduke was in unutterable uneasiness of mind. He felt that
+Madeleine was speaking the truth, for, already, at the bare thought of
+seeing her depart, perhaps for ever, he experienced a real sorrow; then,
+reflecting that if the charm, the singular and almost irresistible
+attraction of this woman could act so powerfully on him, who for so many
+reasons believed himself protected from such an influence, as well as
+from others which might induce him to submit to this control, he felt a
+sort of vague but bitter and angry jealousy; and while he could not make
+up his mind to grant the pardon asked of him, or to consent to the
+marriage of Frantz, he tried, like all undecided minds, to temporise,
+and said to the marquise, with emotion:
+
+"Since I cannot see you again, at least prolong your visit a little."
+
+"For what purpose, monseigneur?"
+
+"It matters little to you if it makes me happy."
+
+"It would not by any means make you happy, monseigneur, because you have
+neither the strength to let me depart nor to grant me what I ask of
+you."
+
+"That is true," answered the prince, sighing, "for one request seems as
+impossible to me as the other."
+
+"Ah, to-morrow, after my departure, how you will repent!"
+
+The prince, after a long silence, said, with effort, yet with the most
+insinuating voice:
+
+"Wait, my dear marquise, let us suppose that which is not supposable,
+that perhaps some day I may think of granting the pardon of Pernetti."
+
+"A supposition? perhaps some day you will think of it? How vague and
+unsatisfactory all that is, monseigneur! Why not say, positively, 'Admit
+that I grant you the pardon of Colonel Pernetti.'"
+
+"Very well, then, admit it."
+
+"Good; you grant me this pardon, monseigneur, and you consent to the
+marriage of Frantz? I must have all or nothing."
+
+"As to the marriage, never, never!"
+
+"Do not say never, monseigneur. Do you know anything about it?"
+
+"After all, a supposition binds me to nothing. Well, to make an end of
+it, let us admit that I grant all you desire. I will be at least certain
+of my recompense--"
+
+"You ask it of me, monseigneur? Is not every generous action its own
+reward?"
+
+"Granted. But there is one, in my eyes the most precious of all, and
+that one you alone can give."
+
+"Oh, make no conditions, monseigneur."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Frankly, monseigneur, can I pledge myself to anything? Does not all
+depend on you and not on me? You must please me, that concerns you."
+
+"Oh! what a woman you are!" said the prince, with vexation. "But,
+really, shall I please you? Do you think I can please you?"
+
+"My faith, monseigneur, I know nothing about it. You have done nothing
+so far but receive me with rudeness, I can truthfully say."
+
+"My God! I was wrong, forgive me; if you only knew the uneasiness, I
+might almost say the fear, that you inspire in me, my dear marquise!"
+
+"Come, I forgive you the past, monseigneur, and promise you to allow
+myself to be captivated with the best will in the world, and, as I am
+very frank, I will even add that it does seem to me that I would like
+you so much that you might succeed."
+
+"Truly!" cried the prince, transported.
+
+"Yes; you are half a sovereign, and you perhaps will be one some day,
+and there may be all sorts of good and beautiful things for you to order
+through the influence of this consuming passion you have just branded
+like a real capuchin,--allow me the expression. Come, monseigneur, if
+the good God has put this passion in all his creatures, he knew what he
+was doing. It is an immense power, because, in the hope of satisfying
+it, those who are under its influence are capable of everything, even
+the most generous actions, is it not true, monseigneur?"
+
+"So," added the prince, with increasing rapture, "I can hope--"
+
+"Hope all at your ease, monseigneur, but, I tell you plainly, I bind
+myself to nothing. My faith! fan your flame, make it burn, let it melt
+my snow."
+
+"But, in a word, suppose that I grant all that you ask, what would you
+feel for me?"
+
+"Perhaps this first proof of devotion to my wishes would make a deep
+impression upon me, but I cannot assert it, my power of divination does
+not extend so far as that, monseigneur."
+
+"Ah, you are pitiless!" cried the archduke, with a vexation that had a
+touch of sorrow in it, "you only know how to exact."
+
+"Would it be better to make false promises, monseigneur? That would be
+worthy neither of you nor of me, and then, in a word, let us speak as
+people who have hearts. Once more, what is it I ask of you? to show
+justice and mercy to the most honourable of men, and paternal affection
+for the orphan you have reared! If you only knew how these poor orphans
+love each other! What innocence! what tenderness! what despair! This
+morning, as she told me of the ruin of her hopes, Antonine was moved to
+tears."
+
+"Frantz is of illustrious birth. I have other plans and other views for
+him," replied the prince, impatiently. "He ought not to make a
+misalliance."
+
+"The word is a pretty one. And then who am I, monseigneur? Magdalena
+Peres, daughter of an honest Mexican merchant, ruined by failures in
+business, and a marquise by chance. You love me, nevertheless, without
+fear of misalliance."
+
+"Ah, madame! I! I!"
+
+"You, you, it is another thing, is it not? as the comedy says."
+
+"At least, I am free in my actions."
+
+"And why should not Frantz be free in his, when his tastes restrain him
+to a modest and honourable life, adorned by a pure and noble love? Come,
+monseigneur, if you were, as you say, smitten with me, how tenderly you
+would compassionate the despairing love of those two poor children, who
+adore each other with all the ardour and innocence of their age! If
+passion does not render you better and more generous, this passion is
+not true, and if I am to share it I must begin by believing in it, which
+I cannot do when I see your relentless cruelty to Frantz."
+
+"Ah, my God, if I loved him less I would not be relentless!"
+
+"A singular way to love people!"
+
+"Have I not told you that I intended him for a high destiny?"
+
+"And I tell you, monseigneur, that the high destiny you reserve for him
+would be odious to him. He is born for a happy, sweet, and modest life;
+his tastes are simple, the timidity of his character, his qualities
+even, separate him from all that is showy and pompous; is it not true?"
+
+"Then," said the prince, greatly surprised, "you are acquainted with
+him?"
+
+"I have never seen him."
+
+"How, then, do you know?"
+
+"Has not this dear Antonine given me all her confidence? Is it not true
+that, according to the way you love people, you are able to divine their
+true character? In a word, monseigneur, the character of Frantz is such
+as I have described, is it not,--yes or no?"
+
+"It is true, such is his character."
+
+"And you would have the cruelty to impose upon him an existence which
+would be insupportable to him, when there under his hand he would find
+the happiness of his life?"
+
+"But, know that I love Frantz as my own son, and I will never consent to
+be separated from him."
+
+"Great pleasure for you to have constantly under your eyes the sad face
+of a poor creature whose eternal misery you have caused! Besides,
+Antonine is an orphan; nothing forbids her accompanying Frantz; in the
+place of one child, you would have two. What a relief from your
+grandeur, from the adulations of a false and selfish and artificial
+society would the sight of this sweet and smiling happiness be to you;
+with what joy would you go to refresh your heart and soul in the home of
+these two children who would cherish you with all the happiness they
+would owe to you!"
+
+"Stop, leave me," cried the prince, more and more moved. "I do not know
+what inconceivable power your words have, but I feel my firmest
+resolutions give way, I feel the convictions of my whole life growing
+weak."
+
+"Do you complain of that, monseigneur! Hold! Between us, without
+detracting from princes, I think they would often do well to renounce
+the convictions of all their life, for God knows what these convictions
+may be. Come, believe me, yield to the impression which now dominates
+you, it is good and generous."
+
+"Ah, my God, in this moment do I know how to distinguish good from
+evil?"
+
+"For that, monseigneur, interrogate the faces of those whose happiness
+you have assured; when you will say to one, 'Go, poor exile, return to
+the country that you weep; your brothers wait for you with open arms,'
+and to the other, 'My beloved child, be happy, marry Antonine,' then
+look well at both, monseigneur, and if tears moisten their eyes, as at
+this moment they moisten yours and mine, be tranquil, monseigneur, you
+have done good, and for this good, to encourage you because your emotion
+touches me, I promise you to accompany Antonine to Germany."
+
+"Truly," cried the prince, "you promise me?"
+
+"I must, monseigneur," said Madeleine, smiling, "give you the
+opportunity to captivate me."
+
+"Ah, well, whatever may happen, whatever you may do, for perhaps you are
+making sport of me," said the prince, throwing himself at Madeleine's
+knees, "I give you my royal word that I will pardon the exile, that I--"
+
+The archduke was suddenly interrupted by a violent noise outside the
+door of his study, a noise which revealed the sharp contention of
+several voices, above which rose distinctly the words:
+
+"I tell you, sir, you shall not enter!"
+
+The archduke got up from his position suddenly, turned pale with anger,
+and said to Madeleine, who was listening also to the noise with great
+surprise:
+
+"I beseech you, go into the next chamber; something extraordinary is
+taking place. In an instant I will rejoin you."
+
+At that moment a violent blow resounded behind the door.
+
+The prince added, as he went to open the adjacent room for Madeleine:
+
+"Enter there, please."
+
+Then, closing the door, and wishing in his anger to know the cause of
+this insolent and unusual noise, he went out of his study quickly, and
+saw M. Pascal, whom two exasperated officers were trying to restrain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+At the sight of the archduke, the officers turned aside respectfully,
+and M. Pascal, who seemed to have lost control of himself, cried:
+
+"Zounds! monseigneur, you receive people here singularly!"
+
+The prince, remembering the appointment that he had made with M. Pascal,
+and fearing for his own dignity some new insult from this brutal person,
+said, making a sign to him:
+
+"Come, monsieur, come."
+
+And before the eyes of the silent officers the door closed on the prince
+and the capitalist.
+
+"Now, monsieur," said the archduke, pale with anger and hardly able to
+restrain himself, "will you tell me the cause of this scandal?"
+
+"What! you make an appointment for me at three o'clock; I am punctual; a
+quarter of an hour passes,--nobody; a half-hour,--nobody; my faith! I
+lose patience, and I ask one of your officers to inform you that I am
+waiting. They answer that you have an audience. I begin to champ my bit,
+and at last, at the end of another half-hour, I tell your gentlemen,
+positively, that if they do not inform you I will go in myself."
+
+"That, monsieur, is an insolence--"
+
+"What, an insolence! Ah, well, monseigneur, is it I who have need of
+you, or you who have need of me?"
+
+"M. Pascal!"
+
+"Is it I who come to you, monseigneur? Is it I who have asked for the
+loan of money?"
+
+"But, monsieur--"
+
+"But, monseigneur, when I consent to interrupt my own business to come
+here and wait in your antechamber,--what I do for nobody,--it seems to
+me that you ought not to let me go to the devil for one hour, and the
+most important hour, too, on the Exchange, which, thanks to you,
+monseigneur, I have missed to-day; and in addition to that vexation, I
+think it very strange that your officers repulse me, when, on their
+refusal to announce me, I take the liberty of announcing myself."
+
+"Discretion and the simplest propriety command you to wait the end of
+the audience I was giving, monsieur."
+
+"That is possible, monseigneur, but, unfortunately, my just impatience
+contradicts discretion, and, frankly, I think I deserve a different
+reception, especially when I come to talk with you of a service that you
+have implored me to do for you."
+
+In the first moment of his anger, increased by the persistent coarseness
+of M. Pascal, the prince had forgotten that the Marquise de Miranda
+could hear his conversation with his rude visitor from the adjoining
+room; so, overwhelmed with shame and feeling the necessity of appeasing
+the angry humour of the man, he endeavoured with all his self-control to
+appear calm, and tried to lead M. Pascal, as he talked with him, over to
+the embrasure of one of the windows, where Madeleine would not be able
+to hear the interview.
+
+"You know, M. Pascal," said he, "that I have always been very tolerant
+of your bluntness, and I will continue to be so."
+
+"Really, you are very good, monseigneur," replied Pascal, sarcastically,
+"but you see each one of us has his little contrarieties, and at the
+present moment I have very large ones, which make it impossible for me
+to possess the gentleness of a lamb."
+
+"That excuse, or, rather, that explanation suffices for me, M. Pascal,"
+replied the prince, dominated by his need of the financier's services.
+"Opposition often exasperates the gentlest characters, but let us talk
+no longer of the past. You asked me to anticipate by two days the
+appointment we had made to terminate our business. I hope that you bring
+me a satisfactory reply."
+
+"I bring you a thoroughly complete yes, monseigneur," replied our hero,
+growing gentle. And he drew a pocketbook from his pocket. "And more, to
+corroborate this yes, here is a draft on the Bank of France for the
+tenth of the amount, and this contract of mine for the remainder of the
+loan."
+
+"Ah, my dear M. Pascal!" cried the prince, radiant, "you are a man--a
+man of gold."
+
+"'A man of gold!' that is the word, monseigneur. That is no doubt the
+cause of your liking for me."
+
+The prince did not observe this sarcasm. Delighted with the whole day,
+which seemed to fulfil his various desires, and impatient to dismiss the
+financier so as to return to Madeleine, he said:
+
+"Since all is settled, my dear M. Pascal, we need only exchange our
+signatures, and to-morrow or after, at your hour, we will regulate the
+matter completely."
+
+"I understand, monseigneur; once the money and the signature in your
+pocket, the keenest desire of your heart is to rid yourself as soon as
+possible of your very humble servant, Pascal, and to-morrow you will
+turn him over to some subaltern charged with the power of arranging the
+affair."
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Good! monseigneur, is not that the natural course of things? Before the
+loan, one is a good genius, a half or three-quarters of God; once the
+money is loaned, one is a Jew or an Arab. I know this, it is the other
+side of the medallion. Do not hasten, monseigneur, to turn over the said
+medallion."
+
+"Really, monsieur, you must explain yourself."
+
+"Immediately, monseigneur, for I am in a hurry. The money is there, my
+signature is there," added he, striking the pocketbook. "The affair is
+concluded on one condition."
+
+"Still conditions?"
+
+"Each, monseigneur, manages his little affairs as he understands them.
+My condition, however, is very simple."
+
+"Let us hear it, monsieur, let us come to an end."
+
+"Yesterday I told you that I observed a handsome blond young man in the
+garden, where he was promenading, who lives here, you inform me."
+
+"Without doubt, it is Count Frantz, my godson."
+
+"Certainly, one could not see a prettier boy, I told you. Now then, as
+you are the godfather of this pretty boy, you ought to have some
+influence over him, ought you not?"
+
+"What are you aiming at, monsieur?"
+
+"Monseigneur, in the interest of your dear godson, I will tell you in
+confidence that I think the air of Paris is bad for him."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Yes, and you would do wisely to send him back to Germany; his health
+would improve very much, monseigneur, very much indeed."
+
+"Is this a pleasantry, monsieur?"
+
+"It is serious, monseigneur, so serious that the only condition that I
+put to the conclusion of our affair is that you must make your godson
+depart for Germany in twenty-four hours at the latest."
+
+"Truly, monsieur, I cannot recover from my surprise. What interest have
+you in the departure of Frantz? It is inexplicable."
+
+"I am going to explain myself, monseigneur, and that you may better
+understand the interest I have in his departure, I must make you a
+confidence; that will enable me to point out exactly what I expect from
+you. Now then, monseigneur, such as you see me I am madly in love. Eh,
+my God! yes, madly in love; that seems queer to you and to me also. But
+the fact remains. I am in love with a young girl named Mlle. Antonine
+Hubert, your neighbour."
+
+"You, monsieur, you!" exclaimed the prince, dismayed.
+
+"Certainly, me! Me! Pascal! And why not, monsieur? 'Love is of every
+age,' says the song. Only, as it is also of the age of your godson,
+Count Frantz, he has in the most innocent way in the world begun to love
+Mlle. Antonine; she, not less innocently, returns the love of this
+pretty boy, which places me, you see, in an exceedingly disobliging
+frame of mind; fortunately, you can assist me in getting out of this
+frame of mind, monseigneur."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur; I will tell you how. Assure me that you will require
+Count Frantz to leave France this instant,--and that is easy,--and
+demand also that he is not to set foot in France for several years; the
+rest belongs to me."
+
+"But there is another thing you do not think of, monsieur. If this young
+person loves Frantz?"
+
+"The rest belongs to me, I tell you, monseigneur. President Hubert has
+not two days to live; my batteries are ready, the little girl will be
+forced to go to live with an old relative who is horribly covetous and
+avaricious; a hundred thousand francs will answer to me for this old
+vixen, and once she gets the little girl in her clutches I swear to God
+that Antonine will become, willing or unwilling, Madame Pascal, and
+that, too, without resorting to violence. Come now, monseigneur, all the
+love affairs of fifteen years will not hold against the desire to
+become, I will not say madame the archduchess, but madame the
+archmillionaire. Now, monseigneur, you see it all, I have frankly played
+the cards on the table; having no interest in acting otherwise, it is
+of little or no moment to you that your godson should marry a little
+girl who has not a cent. The condition that I impose is the easiest
+possible one to fulfil. Again, is it yes, or is it no?"
+
+The prince was overwhelmed, less by the plans of Pascal and his odious
+misanthropy, than by the cruel alternative in which the condition
+imposed by the capitalist placed him.
+
+To order the departure of Frantz, and oppose his marriage with Antonine,
+was to lose Madeleine; to refuse the condition imposed by M. Pascal was
+to renounce the loan, which would enable him to accomplish his projects
+of ambitious aggrandisement.
+
+In the midst of this conflict of two violent passions, the prince
+recollected that he had only given his word to Madeleine for the pardon
+of the exile, the tumult caused by the fury of M. Pascal having
+interrupted him at the very moment he was about to swear to Madeleine to
+consent to the marriage of Frantz.
+
+Notwithstanding the facility which this evasion left to him, the
+archduke realised how powerful was the influence of Madeleine over him,
+as that morning even he had not hesitated to sacrifice Frantz to his
+ambition.
+
+The hesitation and perplexity of the prince struck Pascal with
+increasing surprise; he could not believe that his demand concerning
+Frantz was the only question; however, to influence the determination of
+the prince by placing before him the consequences of his refusal, he
+broke the silence, and said:
+
+[Illustration: "_'It is no.'_"
+
+Original etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+"Really, monseigneur, your hesitation is incomprehensible! What! by a
+weak deference to the love affair of a schoolboy, you renounce the
+certainty of obtaining a crown? For, after all, the duchy whose transfer
+is offered to you is sovereign and independent. This transfer, my loan
+only can put it in your power to accept, which, I may say in passing, is
+not a little flattering to the good man Pascal. Because, in a word,
+through the might of his little savings, he can make or unmake
+sovereigns, he can permit or prevent that pretty commerce where these
+simpletons of people sell and sell again, transfer and reassign, no more
+nor less than if it were a park of cattle or sheep. But that does not
+concern me at all. I am not a politician, but you are, monseigneur, and
+I do not understand your hesitation. Once more, is it yes? is it no?"
+
+"It is no!" said Madeleine, coming suddenly out of the adjoining room,
+where she had heard the preceding conversation, notwithstanding the
+precautions of the prince.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+The archduke, at the unexpected appearance of the Marquise de Miranda,
+shared the surprise of M. Pascal, who looked at Madeleine with
+amazement, supposing her a guest of the palace, for she had taken off
+her hat, and her singular beauty shone in all its splendour. The shadow
+thrown by the rim of her hat, which hid a part of her forehead and
+cheeks, was no longer there, and the bright light of broad day,
+heightening the transparent purity of her dark, pale complexion, gilded
+the light curls of her magnificent blond hair, and gave to the azure of
+her large eyes, with long black eyebrows, that sparkling clearness that
+the rays of the sun give to the blue of a tranquil sea. Madeleine, her
+cheek slightly flushed by the indignation which this odious project of
+Pascal had aroused, her glance animated, her nostrils dilating, her head
+proudly thrown back on her slender, beautiful neck, advanced to the
+middle of the parlour, and, addressing the financier, repeated the
+words:
+
+"No, the prince will not accept the condition which you have the
+audacity to impose upon him, monsieur."
+
+"Madame!" stammered M. Pascal, feeling his usual effrontery forsaking
+him, and recoiling, intimidated, pained, and charmed at the same time,
+"I do not know who you are, I do not know by what right you--"
+
+"Come, monseigneur," continued the marquise, addressing the archduke,
+"resume your dignity, not as a prince, but as a man; receive the
+humiliating condition which he imposes on you with the contempt which it
+deserves. Great God! at what price would you buy an increase of power?
+What! You would have the courage to pick up your sovereign crown at the
+feet of this man? It would defile your brow! But a man of courage would
+not have endured the thousandth part of the outrages which you have just
+brooked, monseigneur. And you a prince! You so proud! You belong to
+those who believe themselves of a race superior to the vulgar herd. And
+so for your humble courtiers, your base flatterers, your intimidated
+followers, you have only haughtiness, and before M. Pascal you abase
+your sovereign pride! And this, then, is the power of money!" added
+Madeleine, with increasing exaltation, hurling the words at the
+financier with a gesture of crushing disdain, "you bow before this man!
+God have mercy! This is to-day the king of kings! Think of it, prince,
+think then that what makes the power and the insolence of this man is
+your ambition. Come, monseigneur, instead of buying by a shameful
+degradation the fragile plaything of a sovereign rank, renounce this
+poor vanity, retake your rights as a man of courage, and you will be
+able to drive this man away ignominiously, who treats you more
+insolently than you have ever treated the meanest of your poor vassals."
+
+Pascal, since his accession of fortune, was accustomed to a despotic
+domination as well as to the timid deference of those whose fate he held
+in his hands; judge, then, of his violent shock, of his rage, in hearing
+himself thus addressed by the most attractive, if not the most beautiful
+woman he had ever met. Picture his exasperation as he thought he must,
+doubtless, renounce the hope of marrying Antonine, and lose besides the
+profit of the ducal loan, an excellent investment for him; so he cried,
+with a threatening air:
+
+"Madame, take care; this power of money, which you treat so
+contemptuously, is able to command many resources for the service of
+revenge. Take care!"
+
+"Thank God! the threat is good, and it frightens me very much," said
+Madeleine, with a burst of sarcastic laughter, stopping by a gesture the
+prince, who took a quick step toward Pascal. "Your power is great, do
+you say, Sir Strong-box! It is true money is an immense power. I have
+seen at Frankfort a little old man, who said in 1830 to two or three
+furious kings, 'You wish to make war on France; it does not suit me or
+my family, and I will not give you the money to pay your troops;' and
+there was no war. This good old man, a hundred times richer than you, M.
+Pascal, occupied the humble house of his father and lived upon little,
+while his beneficent name is inscribed on twenty splendid monuments of
+public usefulness. He is called the 'king of the people,' and his name
+is blessed as much as yours is shamed and hissed, M. Pascal! For your
+reputation as a true and honest man is as well known to the foreigner as
+in France. Certainly, oh, you are known, M. Pascal, too well known,
+because you do not imagine how much your delicacy, your scrupulous
+probity, is appreciated! And what is the object of universal
+consideration, the honourable course, by which you have made your
+immense fortune? All that has given you a very wide-spread reputation,
+M. Pascal, and I am happy to declare it under present circumstances."
+
+"Madame," replied Pascal, with an icy calmness more terrible than his
+anger, "you know many things, but you do not know the man whom you
+provoke. You are ignorant of what this man, this Strong-box as you call
+him, can do."
+
+The prince made a threatening gesture which Madeleine again checked,
+then, shrugging her shoulders, she continued:
+
+"What I do know, M. Pascal, is that, notwithstanding your audacity, your
+impudence, or your strong-box, you will never marry Mlle. Antonine
+Hubert, who will be betrothed to-morrow to Count Frantz de Neuberg, as
+monseigneur can assure you."
+
+And the marquise, without waiting for the reply of Pascal, made a
+half-mocking bow and returned to the adjoining chamber. Excited by the
+generous indignation of Madeleine's words, more and more subjugated by
+her beauty, which had just appeared to him under a new light, the
+archduke, feeling all the bitterness, all the anger accumulated by the
+many insolences of Pascal, revive in his heart, experienced the joy of
+the slave at last freed from a detested yoke. At the impassioned voice
+of the young woman the wicked soul of this prince, hardened by the pride
+of race, frozen by the atmosphere of mute adulation in which he had
+always lived, had at least some noble impulses, and the blush of shame
+covered the brow of this haughty man as he realised to what a state of
+abjection he had descended to gain the favour of M. Pascal.
+
+The financier, no longer intimidated or handicapped by the presence of
+the marquise, felt his audacity spring up again, and, turning abruptly
+to the prince, he said, with the habitual brutal sarcasm in which was
+mingled a jealous hatred to see the archduke in possession of so
+beautiful a mistress,--for such at least was Pascal's belief:
+
+"Zounds! I am no longer astonished, monseigneur, at having stood so long
+like a crane on one foot in your antechamber. You were, I see, occupied
+with fine company. I am a fine judge and I compliment your taste; but
+men like us are not under petticoat government, and I think you know
+your interests too well to renounce my loan and take seriously the words
+you have just heard, and which I shall not forget, because I--I am sorry
+for you, monseigneur," added Pascal, whose rage redoubled his
+effrontery,--"in spite of her beautiful eyes, I must have revenge for
+the outrages of this too adorable person."
+
+"M. Pascal," said the prince, triumphant at the thought of avenging
+himself, "M. Pascal!" and with a significant gesture he showed him the
+door; "leave this room, and never set your foot here again!"
+
+"Monseigneur, these words--"
+
+"M. Pascal," repeated the prince, in a louder voice, reaching his hand
+to the bell-cord, "go out of this room instantly, or I will have you put
+out."
+
+There is ordinarily so much cowardice in insolence, so much baseness in
+avarice, that M. Pascal, overwhelmed at the prospect of the destruction
+of his hopes as well as the loss of his profit on the loan, repented too
+late his brutality, and, becoming as abject as he had been arrogant,
+said to the prince, in a pitiful voice:
+
+"Monseigneur, I was jesting. I thought your Highness, in deigning to
+allow me to talk frankly, would be amused at my whims; that is why I
+permitted myself to say such improper things. Can your Highness suppose
+that I would dare cherish the least resentment for the pleasantries this
+charming lady addressed to me? I am too gallant, too much of a French
+knight for that I will even ask your Highness, in case, as I hope, the
+loan takes place, to offer to this respectable lady what we men of the
+strong-box, as she so amusingly called us just now, call pin-money for
+her toilet,--a few rolls of a thousand louis. Ladies always have some
+little purchases to make, and--"
+
+"M. Pascal," said the prince, who enjoyed this humiliation which he had
+not the courage to inflict on Pascal, "you are a miserable scoundrel. Go
+out!"
+
+"Ah, so, monseigneur! Do you mean seriously to treat me in this way?"
+cried Pascal.
+
+The prince without replying rang vigorously; an officer entered.
+
+"You see that man," said the archduke, indicating Pascal by a gesture;
+"look at him."
+
+"Yes, monseigneur."
+
+"Do you know his name?"
+
+"Yes, monseigneur; it is M. Pascal."
+
+"Would you recognise him again?"
+
+"Perfectly, monseigneur."
+
+"Very well. Conduct this man to the door of the vestibule, and if he
+ever has the impudence to present himself here, drive him away in
+disgrace."
+
+"We will not fail to do it, monseigneur," replied the officer, who with
+his comrades had endured the insolence of M. Pascal.
+
+Our hero, realising the ruin of his hopes, and having no longer a point
+to gain, recovered his audacity, held up his head and said to the
+prince, who, sufficiently avenged, was eager to join Madeleine in the
+adjoining chamber:
+
+"Wait, M. archduke, the courage and baseness of both of us are of the
+same feather,--the other day I was strong for reason of your cowardice,
+as now you are strong for reason of mine. The only brave person here is
+that damned woman with the black eyebrows and blond hair; but I will
+have my revenge on her and on you!"
+
+The prince, angered at being thus addressed in the presence of one of
+his subordinates, became purple, and stamped his foot in fury.
+
+"Will you go out, sir?" cried the officer, putting his hand on the hilt
+of his sword, as a threat to M. Pascal. "Out of here, or, if not--"
+
+"Softly, M. fighter," replied Pascal, coolly, as he retired, "softly,
+sir, they do not cut up people with a sword here, you see! And we are in
+France, you see! And we have, you see, some good little commissaries of
+police who receive the complaints of an honest citizen who is
+maltreated."
+
+M. Pascal went out of the palace steeped in rancour, devoured with hate,
+bursting with rage. He thought of his thwarted scheme for usury, his
+disappointed love, and he could not banish from his thoughts the pale
+and glowing face of Madeleine, who, far from making him forget the
+virginal purity of Antonine's beauty, seemed to recall her more
+forcibly to his memory,--the two perfect, yet dissimilar, types
+heightening the charms of each by contrast.
+
+"Man is a strange animal. I feel within me all the instincts of the
+tiger," said Pascal to himself, as he slowly walked down the street of
+the Faubourg St. Honore, with both hands plunged in the pockets of his
+trousers. "No," added he, continuing to walk with his head down, and his
+eyes fixed mechanically on the pavement, "it is not necessary to say
+that for fear of rendering the envy they bear us millionaires less
+cruel, less bitter to those who feel it, because, fortunately, those who
+envy us suffer the torments of the damned for every joy they suppose we
+have. Yet, indeed, it is a fact,--here I am at this hour, with a purse
+which can provide me with every pleasure permitted or forbidden that
+ever a man was allowed to dream! I am still young, I am not a fool, I am
+full of strength and health, free as a bird, the earth is open to me. I
+can obtain the most exquisite of all the country offers. I can lead the
+life of a sybarite in Paris, London, Vienna, Naples, or Constantinople;
+I can be a prince, duke, or marquis, and covered with insignia; I can
+have this evening the most beautiful and coveted actresses in Paris; I
+can have every day a feast of Lucullus, and have myself drawn by the
+finest horses in Paris; I could even in one month, by taking a splendid
+hotel, as many knaves and imbeciles do, surround myself with the elite
+of Paris and of Europe,--even this so-called king, whom I failed to
+consecrate with the holy vial of the Bank of France, this archduke whom
+I have just left, has licked my feet. Ah, well, my word of honour!"
+added M. Pascal, mentally, gnashing his teeth, "I wager there is not a
+person in the world who suffers as I do this moment. I was in paradise
+when, as a drudge, I cleaned the shoes of my old rascal usurer in the
+province. Fortunately, not to masticate empty, I can always, while
+waiting for better morsels, chew a little on Dutertre. Let us run to
+the house of my bailiff."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The archduke, after the departure of the financier, hastened, as we have
+said, to find the Marquise de Miranda, but, to his great astonishment,
+she was not in the next room.
+
+As this chamber had no other egress than through the study, the prince
+asked the officers if they had seen the person to whom he had given
+audience pass. They replied that the lady had come out of the parlour,
+and had left the palace a little while before the departure of M.
+Pascal.
+
+Madeleine had really gone away, although it was her first intention to
+wait for the prince after the conclusion of his interview with M.
+Pascal.
+
+This is why the marquise did not keep her first resolution.
+
+She reentered the parlour, after having treated M. Pascal as he well
+deserved, when, looking into the garden by chance, she saw Frantz, who
+had asked the favour of a turn in the park, accompanied by Major Butler.
+
+At the sight of Frantz, Madeleine stood petrified with astonishment. She
+recognised her blond archangel, the object of that ideal and only
+passion which she had confessed to Sophie Dutertre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+Madeleine did not doubt that the hero of the duel of which she had been
+an invisible witness, her blond archangel, and the ideal of her passion,
+Frantz, and the lover of Antonine, were one and the same person.
+
+At this sudden discovery the marquise felt a profound agitation. Until
+then, this love, surrounded with the mystery of the unknown, this vague
+and charming love which seemed like the memory of a sweet dream, had
+sufficed to fill her heart in the midst of the perturbations of her
+life, rendered so fantastic by the calm of her own indifference and the
+foolish transport that she involuntarily inspired in others.
+
+It had never occurred to Madeleine that her ideal could be in love with
+another woman, or, rather, her thought had never rested on this doubt;
+for her, this radiant archangel was provided with beautiful wings, which
+might carry him away before all eyes into the infinite plains of ether.
+Incessantly besieged by lovers, by no means platonic, she experienced a
+joy, an ineffable moral repose, in lifting herself into immaterial
+regions, where her charmed and dazzled eyes saw her ideal hovering. But
+suddenly reality cut the wings of the archangel, and, fallen from his
+celestial sphere, he was no more than a handsome young man, in love with
+a pretty girl of fifteen, who adored him.
+
+At this discovery, Madeleine could not repress a sort of sadness, or,
+rather, of sweet melancholy like that which follows the awakening from
+an enchanted dream, for to experience the tortures of jealousy, would be
+to love carnally. In short, if Frantz had almost always occupied the
+thought of Madeleine, he had never had part in her life; it only
+concerned her, then, to break the thousand ties that habit, sympathy,
+and confidence had rendered so dear. Nevertheless, she felt herself a
+prey to a growing disquietude, to painful presentiments which she could
+not explain to herself. Suddenly she started, and said:
+
+"If fate should order that this strange charm that I exercise on almost
+all who approach me should also act upon Frantz, if I, too, should share
+his feeling on seeing the only man who has ever occupied my heart and my
+thought!"
+
+Then, trying to reassure herself by an appeal to her humility, Madeleine
+said:
+
+"No, no; Frantz loves Antonine too much, it is his first love; the
+purity, the sincerity of this love will protect him. He will have for me
+that coldness which I have for all. Yes, and who can say that my pride,
+my self-esteem will not revolt from the coldness of Frantz? Who can tell
+me that, forgetting the duties of sacred friendship, almost maternal,
+toward Antonine, I may not employ all the resources of my mind and all
+my power of seduction to conquer Frantz? Oh, no, that would be odious,
+and then I deceive myself again, Frantz loves Antonine too much. Alas!
+the husband of Sophie loves her tenderly, too, and I fear that--"
+
+These reflections of the marquise were interrupted by the sound of the
+archduke's voice as he ordered Pascal to go out; listening to this
+discussion, she said to herself:
+
+"After he has put this man out, the prince will come in here. I must
+attend to what is most urgent."
+
+Drawing a memorandum-book from her pocket, the marquise detached one of
+the leaflets, wrote a few lines with a pencil, folded the paper, and
+closed it firmly by means of a pin. After writing the address, "For the
+prince," she laid the note where it could be seen on a marble table in
+the middle of the parlour, put on her hat, and went out, as we have
+said, a little before the departure of M. Pascal.
+
+While the archduke, astonished and disappointed not to find the
+marquise, was opening with inexpressible anguish the note she had left,
+she was on her way to the home of Antonine, where Sophie Dutertre was
+also expected.
+
+Upon her arrival at the house of President Hubert, introduced in a
+modest parlour, the marquise was received by Sophie Dutertre, who,
+running to her, asked, anxiously:
+
+"Ah, well, Madeleine, have you seen the prince?"
+
+"Yes, and I have good hope."
+
+"Will it be possible?"
+
+"Possible; yes, my dear Sophie, but that is all. I do not wish to excite
+foolish hope in the heart of this poor child. Where is she?"
+
+"With her uncle. Happily, the crisis of this morning appeared to leave
+results more and more satisfactory. The physician has just said that, if
+the present condition continues, M. Hubert will perhaps be out of danger
+this evening."
+
+"Tell me, Sophie, do you think M. Hubert is in a state to receive a
+visitor?"
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From a certain person. I cannot tell you more now."
+
+"I think so; because one of his friends has just seen him. Only the
+physician advised him not to stay too long, as the invalid might become
+fatigued."
+
+"That suits marvellously. And poor little Antonine! She must be in
+mortal uneasiness."
+
+"Poor dear child! She is to be pitied. It is such an innocent sorrow,
+and at the same time so desperate, that my own heart is almost broken.
+Indeed, Madeleine, I am sure she will die of grief if she must give up
+Frantz. Ah, death is preferable to some kinds of suffering," added
+Sophie, with an accent so profoundly sad that the tears rose to her
+eyes; then, drying them, she added, "Yes, but when one has children, one
+must live."
+
+Madeleine was so impressed by the tone of Madame Dutertre, by her pallor
+that she had not observed before, and by the tears that she saw her
+shed, that she said to her:
+
+"My God! Sophie, what is the matter, pray? Why these painful words? Why
+these tears? Yesterday I left you calm and happy, except, as you told
+me, the concern occasioned by your husband's business. Is there anything
+new to-day?"
+
+"No, I--think--not," replied Sophie Dutertre, with hesitation. "But
+since yesterday--my husband's business concerns me less than--"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"No, no; I am foolish," replied Madame Dutertre, restraining herself,
+and seeming to hold back some words ready to escape; "but let us not
+talk of me, let us talk of Antonine; I am so touched by the despair of
+this poor child that one might say her suffering is mine."
+
+"Sophie, you are not telling me the truth."
+
+"I assure you."
+
+"I see you are pale and changed. Yes, since yesterday you have suffered,
+and suffered much, I am sure."
+
+"No," replied the young woman, putting her handkerchief to her eyes,
+"you are mistaken."
+
+"Sophie," said Madeleine, quickly taking her friend's hands in her own,
+"you do not know how much your lack of confidence distresses me; you
+will make me think you have some complaint against me."
+
+"What are you saying?" cried Sophie, pained by this suspicion, "you are
+and you will always be my best friend, and I am only afraid of fatiguing
+you with my grievances."
+
+"Ah, again?" replied the marquise, in a tone of affectionate reproach.
+
+"Forgive me, forgive me, Madeleine; but really, is it not enough to
+confide to your friends your real sorrows, without saddening them by the
+confession of vague apprehensions, which are, nevertheless, very
+distressing?"
+
+"My dear Sophie, tell me these apprehensions."
+
+"Since yesterday,--but, again, I say no, no, I shall appear too foolish
+to you."
+
+"You appear foolish to me, well, what of it? Speak, I beseech you."
+
+"Ah, well, it seems to me that since yesterday my husband is under the
+influence of some idea which completely absorbs him."
+
+"Business matters, perhaps?"
+
+"No, oh, no; it is something else, and that is what confounds and alarms
+me."
+
+"What have you observed?"
+
+"Yesterday, after your departure, it had been agreed that he would
+undertake two measures of great importance to us. Seeing the hour slip
+away I went into our chamber, where he had gone to dress himself. I
+found him with his working apparel on, seated before a table, his head
+leaning on his hand; he had not heard me enter. 'Charles,' said I to
+him, 'you forget the hour. You are to go out, you know.' 'Why am I to go
+out?' he asked. 'My God! why, on urgent business,' and I recalled to his
+mind the two matters requiring his immediate attention. 'You are right,'
+said he, 'I had not thought of them again.' 'But what are you thinking
+of, Charles,' I asked. He blushed, appeared embarrassed, and did not
+answer a word."
+
+"Perhaps he has some project, some plan he is meditating, that he thinks
+he ought not to confide to you yet."
+
+"That is possible; yet he has never hidden anything from me, even his
+most undeveloped plans. No, no, it is not business affairs which absorb
+him, because yesterday, instead of talking with his father and me of the
+state of things, which I confess to you, Madeleine, is graver than I
+thought, or than I told you, Charles talked of things altogether
+irrelevant to the subject which concerned us so deeply. And then I did
+not have the courage to blame him, because he talked to us especially of
+you."
+
+"Of me? And what did he say?"
+
+"That you had been so full of kindness to him yesterday morning. Then he
+asked me a thousand little details about you, about your infancy and
+your life. I replied to him with pleasure, as you can well believe,
+Madeleine. Then suddenly he relapsed into a gloomy silence,--into a sort
+of meditation so deep that nothing could draw him out of it, not even
+the caresses of our children."
+
+At this moment the old servant of M. Hubert entered, with a surprised
+and busy air, and said to Sophie:
+
+"Madame, Mlle. Antonine is with her uncle, no doubt!"
+
+"Yes, Peter; what is the matter?"
+
+"My God, madame! it has astonished me so that I do not know what to
+answer."
+
+"What is it, Peter? Explain yourself."
+
+"Well, madame, it is this. There is a strange officer there; probably
+one belonging to the prince who now occupies the Elysee."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"This officer has a letter which he wishes to deliver himself, he says,
+into the hands of President Hubert, who must give an answer. I tried in
+vain to make this officer understand that monsieur was very sick. He
+assured me that it concerned a very important and very urgent matter,
+and that he came from his Highness who occupies the Elysee. Then,
+madame, in my embarrassment I have come to you to ask what I must do."
+
+Madame Dutertre, forgetting her grievance, turned to Madeleine and said,
+quickly, with the greatest joy:
+
+"Your hope has not been mistaken. This letter from the prince is,
+perhaps, his consent to this marriage. Poor Antonine, how happy she will
+be!"
+
+"We must not rejoice too soon, dear Sophie. Let us wait. But do you go
+and see this officer, who is no doubt an aid of the prince. Tell him
+that M. Hubert, although a little better, is not able to receive him.
+Ask the officer to give you the letter, assuring him that you will
+deliver it at once to M. Hubert, who will send an answer."
+
+"You are right, Madeleine. Come, Peter," said Sophie, going out of the
+room, accompanied by the old servant.
+
+"I was not mistaken," said the marquise, when she was alone. "Those
+glances of M. Dutertre. Really it seems a fatality. But I hope," added
+she, smiling, "in Sophie's interest, and in her husband's, I shall be
+able to draw some good from this slight infidelity."
+
+Then, reflecting a moment, Madeleine added:
+
+"The prince is remarkably punctual. Is it possible that he has given
+such immediate attention to the advice contained in my note!"
+
+Antonine came out of her uncle's chamber. At the sight of the marquise
+the poor child did not dare take another step. She remained motionless,
+mute and trembling, waiting her fate with mortal agony, for Madeleine
+had promised that morning to intercede with the prince.
+
+Sophie then entered, holding in her hand the letter which the
+aide-de-camp had just delivered. She gave it to Antonine, and said:
+
+"Here, my child, carry this letter to your uncle immediately. It is very
+urgent, very important. He will give you an answer, and I will take it
+to the man who is waiting."
+
+Antonine took the letter from the hand of Madame Dutertre, throwing a
+look of anxious curiosity upon her two friends, who exchanged a hopeful,
+intelligent glance. Their expressions of countenance so impressed
+Antonine that, addressing the two young women in turn, she said to them:
+
+"Sophie, Madeleine, what is the matter? You look at each other in
+silence, and what is this letter? Pray, what has happened? My God!"
+
+"Go quick, my child," said Madeleine. "You will find us here when you
+return."
+
+Antonine, more and more perplexed, ran precipitately to her uncle's
+room. Madame Dutertre, seeing the marquise bend her head in silent
+thought, said to her:
+
+"Madeleine, now what is the matter with you?"
+
+"Nothing, my friend. I am thinking of the happiness of poor
+Antonine,--that is, if my hopes do not deceive me."
+
+"Ah, her happiness she will owe to you! With what enthusiastic delight
+she and Count Frantz will thank you! Will you not have been their
+special providence?"
+
+At the name of Frantz, Madeleine started, blushed slightly, and a cloud
+passed over her brow. Sophie had not time to perceive the emotion of her
+friend, as Antonine rushed suddenly out of the adjoining chamber, her
+charming face radiant with an expression of joy and surprise impossible
+to describe. Then, without uttering a word, she threw herself on
+Madeleine's neck; but her emotion was excessive; she suddenly turned
+pale, and the two friends were obliged to support her.
+
+"God be praised!" said Sophie, "for, in spite of your pallor and
+agitation, my poor Antonine, I am certain you have good news."
+
+"Do not tremble so, dear child," said Madeleine, in her turn. "Recover
+yourself! Calm yourself!"
+
+"Oh, if you only knew!" murmured the young girl. "No, no, I cannot
+believe it yet."
+
+The Marquise de Miranda, taking Antonine's hands affectionately in her
+own, said to her:
+
+"You must always believe in happiness, my child. But come now, explain
+what you mean."
+
+"Just now," the young girl went on to say, with a voice broken by tears
+of joy, "I carried the letter to my uncle. He said to me: 'Antonine, my
+sight is very weak; read this letter to me, please.' Then I broke the
+seal of the envelope; I did not know why my heart beat with such
+violence, but it palpitated so I felt sick. Wait, it is beating now,"
+added the young girl, putting her hand on her side, as if she would
+restrain the rapid pulsations which interrupted her narrative. Then she
+continued:
+
+"I then read the letter; there was--Oh, I have not forgotten a single
+word of it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"'MONSIEUR PRESIDENT HUBERT:--I pray you, notwithstanding your condition
+of illness, to grant me at once, if it is possible, a moment of
+conversation upon a most urgent and important subject.
+
+"'Your affectionate,
+
+"'LEOPOLD MAXIMILIAN.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"'But,' said my uncle, sitting up in bed,'this is the name of the prince
+who now occupies the Elysee, is it not?' 'I--I--think--it is, uncle,' I
+replied. 'What can he wish with me?' asked my uncle. 'I do not know,'
+said I, trembling and blushing, because I was telling a falsehood, and I
+reproached myself for not daring to confess my love for Frantz. Then my
+uncle said, 'It is impossible for me, although I am suffering, to refuse
+to receive the prince, but I cannot reply to his letter, I am too
+feeble. Take my place, Antonine, and write this,--recollect it well:
+
+"'MONSEIGNEUR:--My weak condition does not permit me to have the honour
+of replying to your Highness with my own hand, and I ask another to say
+to you, monseigneur, that I am at your service.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I am going to write this letter now for my uncle," said Antonine,
+approaching a desk in the parlour. "But, say, Sophie," added the young
+girl, impulsively, "ought I not to bless Madeleine and thank her on both
+knees? For if the prince intended to oppose my marriage with Frantz, he
+would not come to see my uncle,--do you think he would, Sophie? And but
+for Madeleine, the prince would never have consented to come, would he?"
+
+"Like you, my child, I say that we ought to bless our dear Madeleine,"
+replied Madame Dutertre, pressing the hand of the marquise. "But really,
+I repeat it again and again, Madeleine, you have a talisman for getting
+all you want."
+
+"Alas, dear Sophie!" replied the marquise, smiling, "this talisman, if
+indeed I have one, only serves others; not myself."
+
+While the two friends conversed Antonine had seated herself at the desk,
+but, at the end of a few moments' vain effort, she was obliged to give
+up writing; her little hand trembled so violently that she could not
+hold her pen.
+
+"Let me take your place, my dear child," said Madeleine, who had not
+taken her eyes off the young girl. "I will write for you."
+
+"Excuse me, Madeleine," said Antonine, yielding her place to the
+marquise. "It is not my fault, this excitement is too much for me."
+
+"It is the fault of your heart, poor little thing. I understand your
+emotion," writing President Hubert's reply with a firm hand. "Now,"
+added she, "ring for some one, Antonine, so that this letter can be
+delivered to the officer of the prince without delay."
+
+The old servant entered, and was instructed to deliver the letter to the
+officer.
+
+"Now, my little Antonine," said the marquise to the young girl, "there
+remains one duty to be fulfilled, and I am certain that Sophie will be
+of my opinion; before the arrival of the prince, you must confess all to
+your uncle."
+
+"What Madeleine says is very right," replied Sophie. "It would have a
+bad effect if your uncle should not be prepared for the probable
+intention of the visit of the prince."
+
+"Your uncle is very kind and considerate, my dear Antonine," added
+Madeleine, "and he will forgive a lack of confidence, caused
+principally, I do not doubt, by your timidity."
+
+"You are right, both of you, I know it," said Antonine, "and, besides, I
+ought not to blush at this confession, for, my God, I loved Frantz
+without thinking of it, and in spite of myself."
+
+"That is why you should hasten to confide in your uncle, my child, for
+the prince will not delay his visit. But tell me," added the marquise,
+"because, for reasons of my own, I do not wish to be found here when the
+prince arrives, can I not enter your chamber from this parlour?"
+
+"The corridor into which this door opens," replied Antonine, "leads to
+my chamber; Sophie knows the way."
+
+"Certainly, I will conduct you, Madeleine," replied Sophie, rising with
+the marquise, who, kissing Antonine tenderly on the forehead, said to
+her as she pointed to the door of her uncle's chamber, "Go quick, my
+dear little one, the moments are precious."
+
+The young girl threw a glance of affectionate gratitude on the two
+friends, who, leaving the parlour, followed the corridor on their way to
+Antonine's chamber, when they saw the old servant coming.
+
+He approached and said to Sophie:
+
+"Madame, M. Dutertre wishes to speak to you this moment."
+
+"My husband! where is he?"
+
+"Below, madame, in a carriage at the door; he told the porter to order
+me to ask you to come down without delay."
+
+"That is strange! Why did he not come up?" said Sophie, looking at her
+friend.
+
+"M. Dutertre has something to say to you, madame," said Peter.
+
+Madame Dutertre, not a little disquieted, followed him, as she said to
+the marquise,--
+
+"I shall return immediately, my friend, for I am eager to know the
+result of the prince's visit to M. Hubert."
+
+Madeleine was left alone.
+
+"I did well to hurry," thought she, with a sort of bitterness. "I did
+well to yield to my first instinct of generosity; to-morrow it would
+have been too late. I would not, perhaps, have had the courage to
+sacrifice myself to Antonine. How strange it is! An hour ago, in
+thinking of Frantz and her, I had not a feeling of jealousy or pain, and
+only a sweet melancholy, but now by degrees my heart is contracted and
+filled with sorrow, and this moment I suffer--oh, yes, how I suffer!"
+
+The abrupt entrance of Sophie interrupted the reflections of the
+marquise, and she guessed that some great misfortune had happened by the
+frightened, almost wild, expression of Madame Dutertre, who said to her,
+in a short, panting voice:
+
+"Madeleine, you have offered me aid, and now I accept it!"
+
+"Great God! Sophie, what is the matter?"
+
+"Our condition is desperate."
+
+"Do explain."
+
+"To-morrow, this evening, perhaps, Charles will be arrested."
+
+"Your husband?"
+
+"Arrested, I say; oh, my God!"
+
+"But what for? What is it?"
+
+"That monster of wickedness, whom we thought our benefactor, M. Pascal,
+has--"
+
+"M. Pascal!"
+
+"Yes, yesterday--I did not dare--I have not told you all, but--"
+
+"M. Pascal!" interrupted Madeleine.
+
+"Our fate is in the hands of that pitiless man; he can, and he wishes to
+reduce us to the last degree of misery. My God! what will become of us?
+What will become of our children and the father of my husband? What will
+become of us all? Oh, it is horrible! It is horrible!"
+
+"M. Pascal!" said the marquise, with restrained indignation, "the
+wretch! Oh, yes, I read it in his face; I have seen his insolence and
+meanness--such a man would be without pity."
+
+"You are acquainted with him?"
+
+"This morning I met him at the palace with the prince. Ah, now I regret
+having yielded to the anger, the contempt, which this man inspired in
+me. Why did you not tell me sooner? It is a great misfortune that you
+did not, Sophie, a great misfortune."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, no matter. There is no use in going back to the past. But let us
+see, Sophie, my friend, do not allow yourself to despond, exaggerate
+nothing and tell me all, and we will find some way of escaping the blow
+which threatens you."
+
+"It is impossible; all that I come to ask in the name of Charles, in the
+name of my children, is that--"
+
+"Let me interrupt you. Why do you say it is impossible to prevent this
+disaster?"
+
+"M. Pascal is relentless."
+
+"That may be, but what is your position toward him?"
+
+"A year ago my husband found himself, like so many other manufacturers,
+in an embarrassed position. M. Pascal offered his services to us.
+Charles, deceived by fair appearances, accepted. It would be too long to
+explain to you by what a train of affairs Charles, trusting the promises
+of M. Pascal, soon discovered that he was absolutely dependent on this
+man, who could any day recall more than a hundred thousand crowns,--that
+is to say, could ruin our business and plunge us in misery. At last that
+day has come, and M. Pascal, strong in this terrible power, places my
+husband and myself in the alternative of submitting to this ruin or
+consenting to two unworthy deeds he imposes upon us."
+
+"The wretch! The infamous wretch!"
+
+"Yesterday, when you arrived, he had just made known to us his
+intentions. We answered according to our hearts and our honour; he swore
+to revenge himself on us and to-day he has kept his word. We are lost, I
+tell you; he claims, too, that by reason of some authority, he will put
+Charles in prison temporarily. My idea, above everything else, is to
+save my husband from prison, but he refuses to escape, saying it is only
+a decoy, that he has nothing to fear, and that he--"
+
+Madeleine, who had remained silent and thoughtful for some time, again
+interrupted her friend, and said to her:
+
+"What would be necessary to free you from all fear of M. Pascal?"
+
+"To reimburse him."
+
+"And what does your husband owe him?"
+
+"More than a hundred thousand crowns, our factory as security, but once
+deprived of our property we would possess nothing in the world. My
+husband would be declared a bankrupt, and our future would be
+hopeless."
+
+"And is there absolutely no other way of escaping M. Pascal than by
+immediate repayment?"
+
+"There is one on which my husband had always relied, resting on the word
+of this wicked man."
+
+"And what is that way?"
+
+"To give Charles ten years to pay off the debt."
+
+"And suppose you had that assurance?"
+
+"Alas! we would be saved, but M. Pascal wishes to have his revenge, and
+he will never consent to give us any means of salvation."
+
+This sad conversation was interrupted by Antonine, who, beaming with
+joy, ran into the room, saying:
+
+"Oh, Madeleine! come! come!"
+
+"What is it, my child? Some happy news, I know it by your radiant
+countenance."
+
+"Ah, dear friends," said the young girl, "all my fear is that I will not
+be able to bear so much happiness! My uncle and the prince consent to
+all, and the prince,--oh, he was so kind, so fatherly to me, for he
+wanted me to take part in his conversation with my uncle, and he even
+asked my pardon for the grief he had caused me in opposing our marriage.
+'My only excuse,' said he, with the greatest tenderness, 'is, Mlle.
+Antonine, that I did not know you. Madame Marquise de Miranda began my
+conversion, and you have finished it, and since she is here, you say,
+have the goodness to let her know that I would like to thank her before
+you for having put me in the way of repairing the wrong I have done
+you.' Were not those noble, touching words!" added the young girl. "Oh,
+come, Madeleine, come, my benefactress, my sister, my mother, you to
+whom Frantz and I will owe our happiness. And you come too, Sophie,"
+added Antonine, taking Madame Dutertre by the hand, "are you not also a
+sharer in my happiness as you have been in my confidence and my
+despair?"
+
+"My dear child," said Madame Dutertre, trying to disguise her trouble,
+"I need not tell you that I share your joy; but the presence of the
+prince would embarrass me, and besides, as I was telling Madeleine just
+now, I must return home. I cannot leave my children alone too long.
+Come, embrace me, Antonine, your happiness is assured; that thought will
+be sweet to me, and if I have some sorrow, believe me, it will help me
+to bear it. Good-bye. If you have anything new to tell me, come to see
+me to-morrow morning."
+
+"Sophie," said the marquise, in a low but firm voice to her friend,
+"courage and hope! Do not let your husband go away; wait for me at your
+house to-morrow, all the morning."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I cannot explain more, only let Antonine's experience give you a little
+confidence. This morning she was in despair, now you see her radiant
+with happiness."
+
+"Yes, thanks to you."
+
+"Come, now, embrace me once more; courage and hope."
+
+Then, approaching Antonine, Madeleine said to her:
+
+"Now, my child, go back to the prince."
+
+The young girl and the marquise left Madame Dutertre, who, yielding in
+spite of herself to the conviction which seemed to ring from Madeleine's
+words, returned to her dwelling with a ray of hope. The prince waited
+for Madeleine in the parlour of President Hubert; he saluted her
+respectfully, and said to her, with that ceremonious formality which
+Antonine's presence imposed:
+
+"I had it in my heart, marquise, to thank you for the great service you
+have rendered me. You have put it in my power to appreciate Mlle. Hubert
+as she deserves to be; the happiness of my godson Frantz is for ever
+assured. I have agreed with M. President Hubert, who willingly consents
+to it, that to-morrow morning the betrothal of Frantz and Mlle. Hubert
+will take place according to the German custom, that is to say, that I
+and President Hubert will sign, under penalty of perjury and
+infidelity, the contract of marriage which Frantz and mademoiselle will
+sign under the same conditions."
+
+"Since you have said to Antonine, monseigneur, that I have put you in
+the way of truth, Antonine is under obligation to prove to you all the
+good that I have told you of her."
+
+"I have a favour to ask of you, marquise," continued the prince, drawing
+from his pocket a letter and presenting it to Madeleine. "You are
+acquainted with the family of Colonel Pernetti?"
+
+"Very well, monseigneur."
+
+"Then do me the kindness to have this letter delivered to the colonel,
+after you have taken knowledge of its contents. I am certain," added the
+archduke, emphasising his last words, "that you will have as much
+pleasure in sending this letter as he to whom it is addressed will have
+pleasure in receiving it."
+
+"I do not doubt it, monseigneur, and I here renew my very sincere
+thanks," said the marquise, making a ceremonious curtsey.
+
+"To-morrow, Mlle. Antonine," said the prince to the young girl, "I am
+going to break the good news very gently to my poor Frantz, for fear he
+may be overcome by his emotion; but I am certain when he knows all he,
+like you, will forgive me for the grief I have caused him."
+
+And, after having again formally saluted Antonine and the marquise, with
+whom he exchanged a look of intelligence, the prince returned to the
+Elysee-Bourbon.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day at ten o'clock Madeleine entered a carriage, and was
+conducted first to the office of a notary, and then to the house of M.
+Pascal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+M. Pascal lived alone on the ground floor of a house situated in the new
+quarter St. Georges, and opening on the street. A private entrance was
+reserved for the counting-room of the financier, which was managed by a
+confidential clerk, assisted by a young deputy who attended to the
+writing. Here M. Pascal continued to make very valuable discounts.
+
+The principal entrance of his dwelling, preceded by a vestibule, led to
+an antechamber and other rooms. This apartment, without any luxury, was,
+nevertheless, comfortable; a valet for the interior and a lad of fifteen
+years for errands sufficed for the service of M. Pascal, a man who never
+compensated for his immense wealth by abundant expenditure, or
+indulgence in those luxuries which support labour and art.
+
+This morning, at half-past nine, M. Pascal, dressed in his morning gown,
+was walking up and down the floor of his office with great agitation;
+his night had been one of long and feverish sleeplessness. A well-paid
+spy, employed for two days to observe what was taking place in the home
+of Mlle. Antonine, had reported to M. Pascal the visit of the prince to
+President Hubert.
+
+This prompt and significant step left no doubt in the mind of the
+financier concerning his own plans in connection with the young girl;
+this cruel disappointment was complicated with other resentments: first,
+rage at the recognition of the truth that, notwithstanding his millions,
+his will, obstinate as it was, was obliged to submit before
+impossibilities, all the more painful because he had believed himself
+at the very door of success. That was not all. If he had no love for
+Antonine, in the noblest acceptation of the word, he did feel for this
+child, so lovely and charming, an ardent passion, ephemeral, perhaps,
+but of extreme intensity as long as it lasted; and so, with a sort of
+ferocious egotism, he reasoned with himself:
+
+"I would like to possess that little girl at any price. I will marry her
+if I must, and when I am tired of her an annuity of twelve or fifteen
+thousand francs will rid me of her. I am rich enough to gratify myself
+in that caprice."
+
+All this, however detestable, was, from the standpoint of society as it
+existed, perfectly possible and legal, and it was, we repeat, that
+possibility which rendered his want of success so bitter to M. Pascal.
+Another thing still: what he felt for Antonine being, after all, only a
+sensual desire, did not tolerate the exclusive preference of pure love;
+so that, in his passionate longing for this young girl of innocent and
+virginal beauty, he had not been less strongly impressed by the
+provoking charms of Madeleine, and, by a refinement of sensuality which
+aggravated his torture, M. Pascal had all night evoked, by his inflamed
+imagination, the contrasting loveliness of these two beautiful
+creatures.
+
+And at this hour in which we see him M. Pascal was a prey to the same
+torment.
+
+"Curses on me!" said he, promenading with a feverish and unequal step.
+"Why did I ever see that damned blonde woman with the black eyebrows,
+blue eyes, pale complexion, impudent face, and provoking figure? She
+seems to me more attractive even than that little girl hardly grown.
+Curses on me! will these two faces always pursue me? or, rather, will my
+disordered mind always evoke them? Misery! have I not been fool enough,
+brute enough? I do not know how, but the thing was so easy, so
+practical, that is what makes me furious. Surely, rich as I am, I ought
+to be able to marry this little girl and have the other for a mistress,
+because I do not doubt she is the mistress of that archduke, confound
+him! and I defy him to give her as much money as I would have given her.
+Yes, yes," continued he, clenching his fists in excess of rage, "I am
+becoming a fool, a furious fool, but I did not ask to have the Empress
+of Russia for a mistress, or to marry the daughter of the Queen of
+England or any other queen. What did I wish? To marry a little citizen,
+niece of an old magistrate who has not a cent. Are there not thousands
+of such marriages? And I could not succeed! and I have thirty millions!
+Misery! my fortune is to fine purpose, not to take away a mistress from
+this automaton German prince! After all, she only loves him for his
+money. He is nearly forty; he is as proud as a peacock, stupid as a
+goose, and cold as an icicle. I am younger than he, not any uglier, and
+if he is an archduke, am I not a millionaire? And then I have the
+advantage of having put him at my feet, for this accursed and insolent
+woman heard me treat her imbecile prince as a poor creature; she
+reproached him before me for enduring the humiliations I heaped upon
+him. She ought to despise that man, and, like all women of her kind,
+have a weakness for a rough and energetic man who put this crowned,
+lanky fellow at his feet. She treated me cruelly before him, that is
+true, but it was to flatter him; we all understand those profligates.
+Oh, if I could only take this woman away from him, what a triumph! what
+a revenge! what a consolation for my lost marriage! Consolation? No; for
+one of these women could not make me forget the other. I do not know if
+it is my age, but I have never known such tenacity of desire as I feel
+for this little girl. But no matter, if I could only take his mistress
+away from this prince, half of my will would be accomplished; and who
+knows? This woman is acquainted with Antonine; she seems to have
+influence over her. Yes, who knows, if once mine, I would not be able by
+means of money to decide her to--Misery!" cried Pascal, with an
+explosion of ferocious joy, "what a triumph, to take a wife from this
+blond youth, and his beautiful mistress from the archduke! If my fortune
+can do it, it shall be done!"
+
+And our hero, holding up his head, seemed to develop into an attitude of
+imperious will, while his features took on an expression of satanic joy.
+
+"Come, come," said he, holding his head high; "if I have talked like a
+fool and an ingrate, money is a beautiful thing." Then stopping to
+reflect awhile he continued:
+
+"Let us see now,--calmness by all means,--we will undertake the thing
+well and slowly. My spy will know this evening where the archduke's
+mistress lives, at least if she lives in the palace, which is not
+probable. Let me find out where she lives," added he, stroking his chin
+with a meditative air. "Zounds, I will send to her that old milliner,
+Madame Doucet. It is the old way and always the best with these
+actresses and such women, for, after all, the mistress of a prince is no
+better. She came, her head uncovered, to throw herself unceremoniously
+into our conversation; she had no discretion to protect. So I cannot
+have a better go-between, a more suitable one, than old Mother Doucet. I
+will write to her at once."
+
+M. Pascal was occupied in writing at his desk when his valet entered.
+
+"What is it?" asked the financier, abruptly. "I did not ring."
+
+"Monsieur, it is a lady."
+
+"I have no time."
+
+"She has come for a letter of credit."
+
+"Let her go to the counting-room."
+
+"This lady wishes to speak to M. Pascal."
+
+"Impossible. Let her go to the counting-room."
+
+The valet went out.
+
+Pascal continued to write, but at the end of a few moments the servant
+returned.
+
+"When will you finish? What is it now?"
+
+"Monsieur, this lady who--"
+
+"Ah, so you are making a jest, are you? I told you to send her to the
+counting-room!"
+
+"This lady has given me a card and asked me to tell monsieur to read
+what she has just written at the bottom."
+
+"Well, hand it here. It is insupportable!" said Pascal taking the card,
+where he read the following:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+       "_The Marquise de Miranda._"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Below the name was written with a pencil:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"She had the honour of meeting M. Pascal yesterday at the
+Elysee-Bourbon, with his Highness, the Archduke Leopold."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If a thunderbolt had fallen at the feet of M. Pascal he could not have
+been more astonished. He could not believe his eyes, and read the card a
+second time soliloquising:
+
+"The Marquise de Miranda! She is a marquise, then? Bah! she is a
+marquise as Lola Montes is a countess--petticoat nobility; but at any
+rate it is she. She here! in my house at the very moment I was taxing my
+wits to contrive a meeting with her. Ah, Pascal, my friend Pascal, your
+star of gold, for a moment hidden, shines at last in all its brilliancy.
+And she comes here under the pretext of a letter of credit. Come, come,
+Pascal, my friend, keep calm; one does not find such an opportunity
+twice in his life. Think now, if you are sly, you can take the mistress
+of the prince and the wife of the blond youth in the same net. Ah, how
+my heart beats! I am sure I most look pale."
+
+"Monsieur, what shall I answer this lady?" asked the valet, astonished
+at the prolonged silence of his master.
+
+"One minute, you rascal; wait my orders," replied Pascal, abruptly.
+"Come, keep calm, keep calm," thought he to himself. "Excitement now
+would lose all, would paralyse my plans. It is a terrible part to play,
+but having such a fine game at hand, I believe I would blow my brains
+out with rage if, through awkwardness now, I should lose it."
+
+After another silence, during which he succeeded in mastering his
+agitation, he said to himself:
+
+"I am calm now. Let her come, I can play a sure game." Then he said
+aloud to his valet:
+
+"Show the lady in."
+
+The servant went out and soon returned to open the door and announce,
+"Madame the Marquise de Miranda."
+
+Madeleine, contrary to her custom, was dressed, as she had said to the
+prince, no longer like a grandmother, but with a dainty elegance which
+rendered her beauty still more irresistible. A Pamela hat of rice straw,
+ornamented with ears of corn mingled with corn-flowers, relieved and
+revealed her face and neck; a new gown of white muslin, also strewn with
+corn-flowers, delineated the outlines of her incomparable figure, the
+finished type of refined elegance, the voluptuous flexibility
+characteristic of Mexican Creoles, while her gauze scarf rose and fell
+in gentle undulations with the tranquil breathing of her marble bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Pascal stood a moment dazzled, fascinated.
+
+He beheld Madeleine a thousand times more beautiful, more attractive,
+more interesting than the day before. And, although a fine judge, as he
+had said to the prince, although he had enjoyed and abused all those
+treasures of beauty, grace, and youth which misery renders tributary to
+wealth, never in his life had he dreamed of such a creature as
+Madeleine; and strange, or rather natural to this brutalised man,
+deprived by satiety of all pleasures, he evoked the same moment the
+virginal figure of Antonine by the side of the marquise. For him, Venus
+Aphrodite was perfected by Hebe.
+
+Madeleine, taking advantage of the involuntary silence of Pascal, said
+in a dry, haughty tone, and without making the slightest allusion to the
+scene of the day before, notwithstanding the words added to her name on
+the card:
+
+"Monsieur, I have a letter of credit on you: here it is. I wished to see
+you in order to arrange some business matters."
+
+This short and disdainful accent disconcerted Pascal; he expected some
+explanation of the scene of the day before, if not an excuse for it, so
+he said, stammering:
+
+"What, madame, you come here--only--to learn about this letter of
+credit?"
+
+"For this letter first, then for something else."
+
+"I suspected it," said Pascal to himself, with a light sigh of relief,
+"this letter of credit was only a pretext. It is a good sign."
+
+Then he said aloud:
+
+"The letter of credit, madame, is in the hands of my cashier; he has the
+order to attend to your demand. As to the other thing which brings you,
+is it, as I hope, personal?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Before speaking, madame, permit me to ask you one question."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"On the card which you have just sent me, madame, you wrote that you had
+seen me yesterday at the Elysee."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"But you do not seem to recollect our interview."
+
+"I do not comprehend."
+
+"Well," said Pascal, regaining his assurance and thinking that the
+dryness of Madeleine's tone was assumed for some purpose he did not
+clearly understand, "let us now, madame marquise, confess, at least,
+that you treated your humble servant very cruelly yesterday."
+
+"What next?"
+
+"What! you feel no remorse for having been so wicked? You do not regret
+your unjust anger against me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Very well, I understand; it was done for effect on this fine man, the
+archduke," Pascal presumed to say with a smile, hoping in some way to
+draw Madeleine out of this frozen reserve which had begun to make him
+uneasy. "It is always very adroit to pretend to feel an interest in the
+dignity of those we govern, because, between us,--beautiful, adorable,
+as you are,--you can make of this poor prince all that you wish, but I
+defy you ever to do so with a man of spirit or a brave man."
+
+"Continue."
+
+"Wait, madame marquise, I have not seen your letter of credit," and
+Pascal opened it. "I wager it is an atrocious meanness. Zounds! I was
+sure of it,--forty thousand francs! What would make a woman like you do
+with such a beggarly pittance in Paris? Ah! Ah! Oh!--forty thousand
+francs. Only a German archduke could be capable of such magnificence."
+
+Madeleine had at first listened to Pascal without comprehending him.
+Soon she saw his meaning: he regarded her as the mistress of the prince
+and living on his liberality.
+
+A deep blush mounted suddenly to Madeleine's face. Then a moment of
+reflection calmed her, and for the sake of her projects she permitted
+Pascal to keep his opinion, and replied, with a half-smile:
+
+"Evidently you do not like the prince."
+
+"I detest him!" cried Pascal, audaciously, encouraged by the smile of
+the marquise, and thinking to make a master stroke by braving things
+out. "I abominate this accursed prince, because he possesses an
+inestimable treasure--that I would like to take away from him even at
+the cost of all my--"
+
+And Pascal threw an impassioned look on Madeleine, who replied:
+
+"A treasure? I did not think the prince so rich, since he desired to
+borrow from you, monsieur."
+
+"Eh, madame," said Pascal, in a low, panting voice, "that treasure is
+you."
+
+"Come, you flatter me, monsieur."
+
+"Listen, madame," replied Pascal, after a moment's silence, "let us come
+to the point, that is the best method. You are a woman of mind, I am not
+a fool, we understand each other."
+
+"About what, monsieur?"
+
+"I am going to tell you. If among foreigners I do not pass for a
+schoolgirl in finances, I am supposed to have a little competency, am I
+not?"
+
+"You are known to be immensely rich, monsieur."
+
+"I pass then for what I am; I am going to prove it to you; a million of
+ready money for the expenses of the establishment, a hundred thousand
+pounds annuity, a wedding basket, each as the united archdukes of
+Germany could not pay for with all their little savings, and more, I pay
+for the house. What do you say to that?"
+
+Madeleine, who did not comprehend him at first, looked at Pascal with an
+air of astonishment. He continued:
+
+"This liberality amazes you, or perhaps you do not believe it. It
+appears to you to be too much, does it? I will show you I can indulge
+myself in that folly. Here is a little note-book which looks like
+nothing," and he drew it from one of the drawers of his desk. "It is my
+balance-sheet, and, without understanding finances, you can see that
+this year my income amounted to twenty-seven millions, five hundred and
+sixty thousand francs. Now let us suppose that my extravagance costs me
+the round sum of three millions, there remain twenty-four little
+millions, which, manipulated as I manipulate them, will bring me in
+fifteen hundred thousand pounds income, and, as I live admirably well on
+fifty or sixty thousand francs a year, I gain in three years, with my
+income alone, the three millions which my folly cost me. I tell you
+that, marquise, because in these adventures it is well to estimate and
+prove that one can do all he promises. Now confess that the good man
+Pascal is worth more than an archduke."
+
+"So you make this offer to me, monsieur?"
+
+"What a question! Come, leave your archduke, give me some promise, and I
+put in your hand a million in drafts. I will make an act with my notary
+for the hundred thousand pounds annuity, and if Father Pascal is
+satisfied, he is not at the end of his rolls."
+
+The financier spoke the truth; he had made these offers sincerely. The
+increasing admiration he felt at the sight of Madeleine, the pride of
+taking the mistress of a prince, the vanity of surrounding her, before
+the eyes of all Paris, with a splendour which would excite the envy of
+all,--finally, the abominable hope of inducing the marquise, by means of
+money, to take Antonine away from Frantz,--all, in his ignominy and in
+his magnificence, justified his offer to Madeleine.
+
+Recognising from this offer the degree of influence she exercised over
+Pascal, Madeleine rejoiced in it, and, to obtain further proof of his
+sincerity, she said, with apparent hesitation:
+
+"Without doubt, monsieur, these propositions are above my poor merit,
+but--"
+
+"Fifty thousand pounds more annuity, and a charming country-house,"
+cried Pascal. "That is my last word, marquise."
+
+"And this is mine, M. Pascal," said Madeleine, rising and giving the
+financier a look which made him recoil.
+
+"Listen to me well. You are basely avaricious; your magnificent offer
+proves, then, the impression I have made on you."
+
+"If this offer is not enough," cried Pascal, clasping his hands, "speak,
+and--"
+
+"Be silent, I have no need of your money."
+
+"My fortune, if necessary."
+
+"Look at me well, M. Pascal, and if you have ever dared look an honest
+woman in the face, and know how to read truth on her brow, you will see
+that I speak the truth. You might put all your fortune there at my feet,
+and the disdain and disgust you excite in me would be the same."
+
+"Crush me, but let me tell you--"
+
+"Be silent! It has suited me to let you believe a moment that I was the
+mistress of the prince; first, because I do not care for the esteem of a
+man of your character, and then, because that would encourage you in
+your insulting offers."
+
+"But then, why have--"
+
+"Be silent! I had need to know the degree of influence I possessed over
+you. I know, and I am going to use it."
+
+"Oh, I ask nothing better, if you wish--"
+
+"I have come here for two reasons; the first, to receive this letter of
+credit--"
+
+"Instantly, but--"
+
+"I have come for another reason,--to put an end to the infamous abuse
+you have made of an apparent service, a pretended generosity rendered to
+the husband of my best friend, M. Charles Dutertre."
+
+"You are acquainted with the Dutertres! ah, I see the trap."
+
+"All means are fair to catch malicious creatures; you are caught."
+
+"Oh, not yet," replied Pascal, gnashing his teeth with rage and despair,
+for the imperious beauty of Madeleine, increased by her glowing
+animation, excited his passion to frenzy; "perhaps you triumph too soon,
+madame."
+
+"You will see."
+
+"We will see," said Pascal, trying to pay off with audacity, in spite of
+the torture he endured, "we will see."
+
+"This instant, there on that table, you are going to sign a deed, in
+good form, by which you engage yourself to grant to M. Dutertre the time
+that you have granted by your verbal promise, to liquidate his debt to
+you."
+
+"But--"
+
+"As you are capable of deceiving me, and as I understand nothing of
+business, I have ordered a notary to draw up this deed, so that you have
+only to sign it."
+
+"This is a pleasantry!"
+
+"The notary has accompanied me, he is waiting in the next room."
+
+"What, have you brought a--"
+
+"One does not come alone into the house of a man like you. You are going
+to sign this deed instantly."
+
+"For what return?"
+
+"My disdain and contempt, as always."
+
+"Misery! that is violence!"
+
+"It is so."
+
+"You wish to take from me, gratis, my sweetest morsel,--in the very
+moment when, in the rage which possesses me, no reparation but revenge
+was left to console me a little! Ah, Madame Dutertre is your best
+friend! Ah, her tears will be bitter to you! Ah, the sorrows of this
+family will break your heart! Zounds, that is to the point, and I will
+have my revenge besides!"
+
+"You refuse?"
+
+"If I refuse? Ah, indeed, madame marquise, do you think me an idiot? And
+for a woman of mind you have shown yourself very weak in this. You might
+have caught me by cajolery--entangled by some promise. I was capable
+of--"
+
+"Come, now, who would stoop so low as to pretend to wish to seduce M.
+Pascal? You are ordered to repair an injury, you make reparation, and M.
+Pascal is despised after as before, to-day as yesterday, and to-morrow
+as to-day."
+
+"Misery! this is enough to make one mad!" cried the financier,
+astonished, and almost frightened by the tone of conviction with which
+Madeleine spoke, and he asked himself if she had not discovered some
+secret rottenness in his life which she intended to use as a weapon. But
+our hero had been a prudent scoundrel, and soon took heart again after a
+rapid examination of conscience, and replied:
+
+"Ah, well, madame, here I am ready to obey when you force me to do so. I
+am waiting."
+
+"It will not be long."
+
+"I am waiting."
+
+"I have seen in your street several lodgings to let. That is nothing
+extraordinary, I am sure, M. Pascal; but a happy chance has shown me a
+very pretty apartment on the first floor, not yet engaged, almost
+opposite your house."
+
+Pascal looked at Madeleine stupidly.
+
+"This apartment I shall take, and shall install myself there to-morrow."
+
+A vague foreboding made the financier start; he turned pale.
+
+Madeleine continued, fixing her burning gaze on the man's eyes:
+
+"At every hour of the day and the night you will know that I am there.
+You will not be able to go out of your house without passing before my
+windows, where I shall be often, very often. I am fond of sitting at the
+window. You will not leave your house, I defy you. An irresistible,
+fatal charm will draw you back to your punishment every instant. The
+sight of me will give you torture, and you will seek that sight. Every
+time you meet my glance, and you will meet it often, you will receive a
+dagger in your heart, and yet, ambushed behind your curtains, you will
+watch my every movement."
+
+As she talked, Madeleine had made a step toward Pascal, holding him
+fascinated, panting under her fixed, burning eyes, from which he could
+not remove his own.
+
+The marquise continued:
+
+"That is not all. As this lodging is large, Antonine, immediately after
+her marriage, and Frantz will come to live with me. I do not know, then,
+my poor M. Pascal, what will become of you."
+
+"Oh, this woman is infernal," murmured the financier.
+
+"Judge, then, the tortures of all sorts that you will have to endure.
+You must have been deeply smitten with Antonine to wish to marry her;
+you must have been deeply smitten with me to put your fortune at my
+feet. Ah, well, not only will you suffer an agonising martyrdom in
+seeing the two women you have madly desired possessed by others,--for I
+am a widow and will remarry,--but you will curse your riches, for every
+moment of the day will tell you that they have been impotent, and that
+they will always be impotent to satisfy your ardent desires."
+
+"Leave me!" stammered Pascal, recoiling before Madeleine, who kept him
+always under her eye. "Leave me! Truly this woman is a demon!"
+
+"Stop, my poor M. Pascal," continued the marquise, "you see I pity you
+in spite of myself, when I think of your envious rage, your ferocious
+jealousy, exasperated to frenzy by the constant happiness of Antonine,
+for you will see us every day, and often in the night. Yes, the season
+is beautiful, the bright moon charming, and many times in the evening,
+very late, hidden in the shadow with your eyes fixed on our dwelling,
+you will see sometimes Antonine and sometimes me with our elbows on the
+balcony railing, enjoying the cool of the evening, and smiling often, I
+confess, at M. Pascal, then standing behind some window-blind or peeping
+from some casement, devouring us with his eyes; often Antonine and
+Frantz will talk of love by the light of the moon, often I and my future
+husband will be as delightfully occupied under your eyes."
+
+"Curses!" cried Pascal, losing all control of himself, "she tortures me
+on burning coals."
+
+"And that is not all," continued the marquise, in a low, almost panting,
+voice. "At a late hour of the night you will see our windows closed, our
+curtains discreetly drawn on the feeble light of our alabaster lamps, so
+sweet and propitious to the voluptuousness of the night." Then the
+marquise, bursting into peals of laughter, added: "And, my poor M.
+Pascal, I would not be astonished then if, in your rage and despair, you
+should become mad and blow your brains out."
+
+"Not without having my revenge, at least," muttered Pascal, wrought to
+frenzy, and rushing to his desk where he had a loaded pistol.
+
+But Madeleine, who knew she had everything to fear from this man, had,
+as she slowly approached him, kept him under her eye, and, step by step,
+had reached the chimney; at the threatening gesture of Pascal she pulled
+the bell-cord violently.
+
+At the moment Pascal, livid and frightful, turned to face Madeleine, the
+servant entered hastily, surprised at the loud ringing of the bell.
+
+At the sound of the opening door and the sight of his valet, Pascal came
+to himself, quickly thrust the hand which held the pistol behind him,
+and let it fall on the carpet.
+
+The marquise had taken advantage of the interruption to approach the
+door left open by the servant, and to call in a loud voice to the
+notary, who, seated in the next room, had also quickly risen at the
+sudden sound of the bell:
+
+"Monsieur, a thousand pardons for having made you wait so long; do me
+the favour to enter."
+
+The notary entered.
+
+"Go out," said Pascal, roughly, to his servant.
+
+And the financier wiped his livid brow, which was bathed in a cold
+sweat.
+
+Madeleine, alone with Pascal and the notary, said to the latter:
+
+"You have, monsieur, prepared the deed relating to M. Charles Dutertre?"
+
+"Yes, madame, there is nothing to do but to approve the document and
+sign."
+
+"Very well," said the marquise; then, while Pascal, wholly overcome, was
+leaning on the armchair before his desk, she took a sheet of paper and a
+pen, and wrote what follows:
+
+"Sign the deed, and, not only will I not live opposite your house, but
+this evening I will leave Paris, and will not return in a long time.
+What I promise I will keep."
+
+Having written these lines, she handed the paper to Pascal, and said to
+the notary:
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir; it concerned a condition relating to the deed
+that I desire to submit to M. Pascal."
+
+"Certainly, madame," replied the notary, while the financier was
+reading.
+
+He had hardly concluded his examination of the note, when he said to the
+notary, in a changed voice, as if he were eager to escape a great
+danger:
+
+"Let us--finish--this--deed."
+
+"I am going, monsieur, to give you a reading of it before signing,"
+replied the notary, drawing the deed from his pocketbook, and slowly
+unfolding it.
+
+But M. Pascal snatched it rudely from his hands and said, as if his
+sight were overcast:
+
+"Where must I sign?"
+
+"Here, monsieur, and approve the document first, but it is customary--"
+
+Pascal wrote the approval of the document with a spasmodic and trembling
+hand, signed it, threw the pen on the desk, and inclined his head so as
+not to meet the glance of Madeleine.
+
+"There is no flourish here," said the careful notary.
+
+Pascal made the flourish; the notary took the deed with a surprised,
+almost frightened look, so sinister and dreadful was the expression of
+Pascal's face.
+
+The marquise, perfectly cool, took up her letter of credit lying on the
+desk, and said to the financier:
+
+"As I will have need of all my funds for my journey, monsieur, and as I
+leave this evening, I am going, if you please, to receive the whole
+amount of this letter of credit."
+
+"Pass to the counting-room," replied Pascal, mechanically, his eyes
+wandering and bloodshot; his livid pallor had suddenly turned to a
+purplish red.
+
+Madeleine preceding the notary, who made a pretext of saluting Pascal in
+order to look at him again, still with an air of alarm, went out of the
+office, shut the door, and said to the servant:
+
+"Where is the counting-room, please?"
+
+"The first door on the left in the court, madame."
+
+The marquise left the parlour when a loud noise was heard in the office
+of M. Pascal.
+
+It sounded like the fall of a body on the floor.
+
+The servant, leaving Madeleine and the notary at once, ran to his
+master's room.
+
+The marquise, after having received bank-bills to the amount of her
+letter of credit, was just about to enter her carriage, accompanied by
+the notary, when she saw the servant rush out of the gateway with a
+frightened air.
+
+"What is the matter, my good friend?" asked the notary, "you seem to be
+alarmed."
+
+"Ah, monsieur, what a pity! my master has just had an attack of
+apoplexy. I am running for the physician."
+
+And he disappeared, running at the top of his speed.
+
+"I thought," said the notary, addressing Madeleine, "this dear gentleman
+did not appear to be in his natural condition. Did you not observe the
+same thing, madame marquise?"
+
+"I thought, like you, there was something peculiar in the countenance of
+M. Pascal."
+
+"God grant this attack may be nothing serious, madame. So rich a man to
+die in the vigour of life, that would really be a pity!"
+
+"A great pity indeed! But tell me, monsieur, if you wish, I can take you
+home in my carriage, and you can deliver to me the deed relating to M.
+Dutertre; I have need of it."
+
+"Here it is, madame, but I shall not permit you to drive out of your way
+for me. I am going only two or three steps from here."
+
+"Very well. Have the kindness, then, to take these forty thousand
+francs. I wish to have ten thousand for my journey and a letter of
+credit on Vienna."
+
+"I will attend to it immediately, madame. And when will you need this
+money?"
+
+"This evening before six o'clock, if you please."
+
+"I will be on time, madame."
+
+The notary bowed respectfully, and Madeleine ordered the coachman to
+drive directly to the factory of Charles Dutertre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Madeleine, as we have said, on leaving the house of M. Pascal, went
+directly to the home of Madame Dutertre, who was alone in her bedchamber
+when the servant announced the marquise. Sophie, seated in an armchair,
+seemed a prey to overwhelming despair. At the sight of her friend, she
+raised her head quickly; her sad face, bathed in tears, was of a deadly
+pallor.
+
+"Take this, read it, and weep no longer," said Madeleine, tenderly,
+handing her the deed signed by M. Pascal. "Was I wrong to tell you
+yesterday to hope?"
+
+"What is this paper?" asked Sophie Dutertre, in surprise, "explain it."
+
+"Yours and your husband's deliverance--"
+
+"Our deliverance?"
+
+"M. Pascal has pledged himself to give your husband all the time needed
+to pay the debt."
+
+"Can it be true! No, no, such a happiness--Oh, it is impossible!"
+
+"Read, then, and see for yourself, unbeliever."
+
+Sophie rapidly looked over the deed; then, staring at the marquise, she
+exclaimed:
+
+"That seems like a miracle; I cannot believe my eyes. And how was it
+done? My God, it must be magic!"
+
+"Perhaps," replied Madeleine, smiling, "who knows?"
+
+"Ah, forgive me, my friend!" cried Sophie, throwing her arms around the
+neck of the marquise; "my surprise was so great that it paralysed my
+gratitude. You have rescued us from ruin; we and our children owe you
+everything,--happiness, safety, fortune! Oh, you are our guardian
+angel!"
+
+The expression of Sophie Dutertre's gratitude was sincere.
+
+At the same time, the marquise observed a sort of constraint in the
+gestures and gaze of her friend. Her countenance did not seem as serene
+and radiant as she hoped to see it, at the announcement of such welcome
+news.
+
+Another grief evidently weighed upon Madame Dutertre, so, after a
+moment's silence, Madeleine, who had been watching her closely, said:
+
+"Sophie, you are hiding something from me; your sorrow is not at an
+end."
+
+"Can you think so, when, thanks to you, Madeleine, our future is as
+bright, as assured, as yesterday it was desperate, when--"
+
+"I tell you, my poor Sophie, you still suffer. Your face ought to be
+radiant with joy, and yet you cannot disguise your grief."
+
+"Could you believe me ungrateful?"
+
+"I believe your poor heart is wounded, yes, and this wound is so deep
+that it is not even ameliorated by the good news I brought you."
+
+"Madeleine, I implore you, leave me; do not look at me that way! It
+pains me. Do not question me, but believe, oh, I beseech you, believe
+that never in all my life will I forget what we owe to you."
+
+And with these words, Madame Dutertre hid her face in her hands and
+burst into tears.
+
+The marquise reflected for some minutes, and then said, with hesitation.
+
+"Sophie, where is your husband?"
+
+The young woman started, blushed, and turned pale by turns, and
+exclaimed, impulsively, almost with fear:
+
+"You wish to see him, then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I do not know--if he is--this moment in the factory," replied Madame
+Dutertre, stammering. "But if you wish it, if you insist upon it, I will
+send for him, so that he may learn from you yourself all that we owe to
+you."
+
+The marquise shook her head sadly and replied:
+
+"It is not to receive your husband's thanks that I desire to see him,
+Sophie; it is only to say farewell to him as well as to you."
+
+"Farewell?"
+
+"This evening I leave Paris."
+
+"You are going away!" cried Madame Dutertre, and her tone betrayed a
+singular mingling of surprise, sadness, and joy.
+
+Neither one of these emotions escaped the penetration of Madeleine. She
+experienced at first a feeling of pain. Her eyes became moist; then,
+overcoming her emotion, she said to her friend, smiling, and taking both
+of Sophie's hands in her own:
+
+"My poor Sophie, you are jealous."
+
+"Madeleine!"
+
+"You are jealous of me, confess it."
+
+"I assure you--"
+
+"Sophie, be frank; to deny it to me would make me think that you believe
+that I have been intentionally coquetting with your husband, and God
+knows I have never seen him but once, and in your presence--"
+
+"Madeleine!" cried the young woman, with effusion, no longer able to
+restrain her tears, "forgive me! This feeling is shameful and unworthy,
+because I know the lofty nature of your heart, and at this time, too,
+when you have come to save us--but if you only knew!"
+
+"Yes, my good Sophie, if I knew, but I know nothing. Come now, make me
+your confession to the end; perhaps it will give me a good idea."
+
+"Madeleine, really I am ashamed; I would never dare."
+
+"Come, what are you afraid of, since I am going away? I am going away
+this evening."
+
+"Wait, it is that which wounds me and provokes me with myself. Your
+departure distresses me. I had hoped to see you here every day, for a
+long time, perhaps, and yet--"
+
+"And yet my departure will deliver you from a cruel apprehension, will
+it not? But it is very simple, my good Sophie. What have you to reproach
+yourself for? Since this morning, before seeing you, I had resolved to
+depart."
+
+"Yes, you say that, brave and generous as you always are."
+
+"Sophie, I have not lied; I repeat to you that this morning, before
+seeing you, my departure was arranged; but, I beseech you, tell me what
+causes have aroused your jealousy? That is perhaps important for the
+tranquillity of your future!"
+
+"Ah, well, yesterday evening Charles returned home worn out with fatigue
+and worry, and alarmed at the prompt measures threatened by M. Pascal.
+Notwithstanding these terrible afflictions, he spent the whole time
+talking of you. Then, I confess, the first suspicion entered my mind as
+to what degree you controlled his thought. Charles went to bed; I
+remained quietly seated by his pillow. Soon he fell asleep, exhausted by
+the painful events of the day. At the end of a few minutes, his sleep,
+at first tranquil, seemed disturbed; two or three times your name passed
+his lips, then his features would contract painfully, and he would
+murmur, as if oppressed by remorse, 'Forgive me, Sophie--forgive--and my
+children--oh, Sophie.' Then he uttered some unintelligible words, and
+his repose was no longer broken. That is all that has happened,
+Madeleine, your name was only uttered by my husband during his sleep,
+and yet I cannot tell you the frightful evil all this has done me; in
+vain I tried to learn the cause of this impression, so deep and so
+sudden, for Charles had seen you but once, and then hardly a quarter of
+an hour. No doubt you are beautiful, oh, very beautiful. I cannot be
+compared with you, I know, yet Charles has always loved me until now."
+And the young woman wept bitterly.
+
+"Poor, dear Sophie!" said the marquise with tenderness, "calm your
+fears; he loves you, and will always love you, and you will soon make
+him forget me."
+
+Madame Dutertre sighed and shook her head sadly. Madeleine continued:
+
+"Believe me, Sophie; it will depend on you to make me forgotten, as it
+was entirely your own fault that your husband ever thought of me a
+single instant."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Just now I provoked your confidence by assuring you that, doubtless,
+some happy result to you and your husband would be the consequence of
+it. I was not mistaken."
+
+"Explain, if you please."
+
+"Let us see now. Imagine, dear Sophie, that you are in a confessional,"
+replied Madeleine, smiling, "yes, in the confessional of that great fat
+abbe, Jolivet, you know, the chaplain of the boarding-school, who put
+such strange questions to us when we were young girls. So, since that
+time I have often asked myself why there were not abbesses to confess
+young girls; but as, without being an abbess, I am a woman," added the
+marquise, smiling again, "I am going to risk some questions which would
+have been very tempting to our old confessor. Now, tell me, and do not
+blush, your husband married you for love, did he not?"
+
+"Alas! yes."
+
+"Well, you need not groan at such a charming recollection."
+
+"Ah, Madeleine, the sadder the present is, the more certain memories
+tear our hearts."
+
+"The present and the future will all be what you would like to have it.
+But, answer me, during the first two or three years of your marriage,
+you loved each other as lovers, did you not? You understand me?"
+
+The young woman looked downwards and blushed.
+
+"Then by degrees, without any diminution of love, that passionate
+tenderness gave place to a calmer sentiment, that your love for your
+children has filled with charm and sweetness; and, finally, the two
+lovers were only two friends united by the dearest and most sacred
+duties. Is that true?"
+
+"That is true, Madeleine, and if I must say it, sometimes I have
+regretted these days of first youth and love; but I reproached myself
+for these regrets, with the thought that perhaps they were incompatible
+with the serious duties imposed by motherhood."
+
+"Poor Sophie! But, tell me, this coolness, or rather this transformation
+of married lovers to friends, if you choose, was not sudden, was it? It
+came insensibly and almost without your perceiving it."
+
+"Practically, yes; but how do you know?"
+
+"One more question, Sophie, dear. In the period of your early love, you
+and you husband were, I am certain of it, very anxious to please each
+other. Never could a toilet be fresh or pretty enough. You heightened by
+painstaking and agreeableness every charm you possessed; indeed, your
+only thought was to please your husband, to captivate him always, and to
+keep him always in love. Your Charles, no doubt, preferred some delicate
+perfume, and your beautiful hair, your garments, exhaled that sweet
+odour, which, in time of absence, materialises, so to speak, the memory
+of a beloved woman."
+
+"That is true; we adored the odour of the violet and the iris. That
+perfume always recalls to me the happy days of our past."
+
+"You see plainly, then. As to your husband, I do not doubt, he vied
+with you in the care and elegance and taste of the most trifling details
+of his toilet. In short, both of you, ardent and passionate, guarded
+with strictest attention all the delights of your young love. But, alas!
+from the bosom of this happiness, so easily, so naturally, issued by
+degrees habit,--that fatal precursor of familiarity, lack of ceremony,
+neglect of self, habit!--all the more dangerous because it resembles,
+even so as to be mistaken for it, a sweet and intimate confidence. So,
+one says: 'I am sure of being loved, what need of this constant care and
+painstaking? What are these trifles to true love?' So, my good Sophie,
+there came a day when, entirely absorbed by your tenderness for your
+children, you no longer occupied yourself in finding out if your hair
+were arranged becomingly, in a style suited to your pretty face, if your
+dress hung well or badly from your graceful waist, if your little foot
+were coquettishly dressed in the morning. Your husband, on his part,
+absorbed in his work as you were by the cares of maternity, neglected
+himself, too. Unconsciously, your eyes grew accustomed to the change,
+scarcely perceiving it; as in the same way, so to speak, people never
+see each other grow old when they live continually together. And it is
+true, dear Sophie, that if at this moment you should evoke, by memory,
+the care, the elegance, and the charms with which you and your husband
+surrounded yourselves in the beautiful time of your courtship, you would
+be startled with surprise in comparing the present with the past."
+
+"It is only too true, Madeleine," replied Sophie, throwing a sad,
+embarrassed look on her careless attire and disordered hair. "Yes, by
+degrees I have forgotten the art, or, rather, the desire to please my
+husband. Alas! it is now too late to repent!"
+
+"Too late!" exclaimed the marquise. "Too late! With your twenty-five
+years, that attractive face, too late! With that enchanting figure, that
+magnificent hair, those pearly teeth, those large, tender eyes, that
+hand of a duchess, and those feet of a child, too late! Let me be your
+tirewoman for a half-hour, Sophie, and you will see if it is too late to
+make your husband as passionately in love with you as he ever was."
+
+"Ah, Madeline, you are the only one in the world to give hope to those
+who have none; nevertheless, the truth of your words frightens me. Alas,
+alas! You are right. Charles loves me no longer."
+
+"He loves you as much and perhaps even more than in the past, poor
+foolish child, because you are the wife whose fidelity has been tested,
+the tender mother of his children; but you are no longer the infatuating
+mistress of the past, nor has he that tender, passionate love for you he
+felt in the first days of your wedded bliss. What I say to you, my good
+Sophie, may be a little harsh, but the good God knows what he has made
+us. He has created us of immaterial essence. Neither are we all matter,
+but neither are we all mind. It is true, believe me, that there is
+something divine in pleasure, but we must guard it, purify it, idealise
+it. Now, pray pardon this excessive management on my part, as you see
+that a little appreciation of the sensuous is not too much to awaken a
+nature benumbed by habit, or else the seductive mistress always has an
+advantage over the wife; for, after all, Sophie, why should the duties
+of wife and mother be incompatible with the charms and enticements of
+the mistress? Why should the father, the husband, not be a charming
+lover? Yes, my good Sophie, I am going, in a few words, with my usual
+bluntness, to sum up your position and mine: your husband loves you, but
+desires you no longer; he does not love me, and he desires me."
+
+Then the marquise, laughing immoderately, added:
+
+"Is it not strange that I, a young lady, alas! with no experience in the
+question,--for I am like a gourmand without a stomach, who presumes to
+talk of good cheer,--is it not strange that I should be giving a lesson
+to a married woman?"
+
+"Ah, Madeleine," exclaimed Sophie, with effusion, "you have saved us
+twice to-day, because what my husband feels for you he might have felt
+for a woman less generous than yourself; and then think of my sorrow, my
+tears! Oh, you are right, you are right. Charles must see again and find
+again in his wife the beloved mistress of the past."
+
+The conversation of the two friends was interrupted by the arrival of
+Antonine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+The conversation of Madeleine and Sophie was interrupted by the arrival
+of Antonine, who, impetuous as joy, youth, and happiness, entered the
+room, saying:
+
+"Sophie, I knew yesterday that Madeleine would be here this morning, and
+I ran in to tell you that--"
+
+"Not a word more, little girl!" gaily replied the marquise, kissing
+Antonine on the forehead; "we have not a moment to lose; we must be
+to-day as we used to be in school, waiting-maids for Sophie."
+
+"What do you mean?" said the young woman.
+
+"But, Madeleine," replied Antonine, "I have come to inform you that my
+contract has been signed by the prince and my uncle, and that--"
+
+"Your contract is signed, my child! That is important and I expected it.
+You can tell me the rest when we have made our dear Sophie the prettiest
+and most captivating toilet in the world. It is very important and very
+urgent."
+
+Then the marquise whispered in the ear of Madame Dutertre:
+
+"Your husband may come at any moment; he must be charmed, fascinated,
+and he will be."
+
+Then turning to Antonine, Madeleine added:
+
+"Quick, quick, my child; help me to place this table before the window,
+and we will first arrange Sophie's hair."
+
+"But really, Madeleine," said Madame Dutertre, smiling, for she was
+awakening in spite of herself to hope and happiness, "you are silly."
+
+"Not so silly," replied the marquise, making Sophie sit down before the
+toilet-table.
+
+Uncoiling her friend's magnificent hair, she said:
+
+"With such hair, if I were as ugly as a monster, I would make myself
+attractive in the highest degree; judge for yourself, Sophie. Here, help
+me, Antonine, this hair is so long and so thick, I cannot hold it all in
+my hand."
+
+It was a charming sight to see the three friends of such diverse beauty,
+thus grouped together. The pure face of Antonine expressed an innocent
+astonishment at this improvised toilet; Sophie, touched, and distressed
+by the tender recollections of other days, felt under her veil of brown
+hair her lovely face, sad and pale up to that moment, colour with an
+involuntary blush; while Madeleine, handling her friend's superb hair
+with marvellous skill, was making a ravishing coiffure.
+
+"Now," said the marquise to Sophie, "what gown are you going to wear?
+But now I think of it, they all fit you horribly, and all of them are
+cut on the same pattern."
+
+"They are, unfortunately," said Sophie, smiling.
+
+"Very well," replied the marquise, "and all are high-necked, I warrant."
+
+"Yes, all are high-necked," replied poor Sophie.
+
+"Better and better," said Madeleine, "so that these dimpled shoulders,
+these beautiful arms are condemned to perpetual burial! it is
+deplorable! Let us see, you have at least some elegant morning
+gown,--some coquettish dressing-gown,--have you not?"
+
+"My morning gowns are all very simple. It is true that formerly--"
+
+"Formerly?"
+
+"I did have some beautiful ones."
+
+"Well, where are they?"
+
+"I thought they were too young for the mother of a family like me," said
+Sophie, smiling. "So I relegated them, I believe, to a shelf in that
+wardrobe with the glass door."
+
+The marquise waited to hear no more; she ran to the wardrobe, which she
+ransacked, and found two or three very pretty morning gowns of striped
+taffeta of great beauty. She selected one of deep blue, with
+straw-coloured stripes; the sleeves open and floating exposed the arms
+to the elbow, and although it lapped over in front, the gown opened
+enough to show the neck in the most graceful manner possible.
+
+"Admirable!" exclaimed Madeleine, "this gown is as fresh and beautiful
+as when it was new. Now I must have some white silk stockings to match
+these Cendrillon slippers I found in this wardrobe where you have buried
+your arms, Sophie, as they say of warriors who do not go to battle any
+more."
+
+"But, my dear Madeleine," said Sophie, "I--"
+
+"There are no 'buts,'" said the marquise, impatiently. "I wish and
+expect, when your husband enters here, he will think he has gone back
+five years."
+
+In spite of a feeble resistance, Sophie Dutertre was docile and obedient
+to the advice and pretty attentions of her friend. Soon, half recumbent
+on an easy chair, in a languishing attitude, she consented that the
+marquise should give the finishing touch to the living picture. Finally
+Madeleine arranged a few curls of the rich brown hair around the neck of
+dazzling whiteness, lifted the sleeves so as to show the dimpled elbows,
+opened somewhat the neck of the gown, notwithstanding the chaste
+scruples of Sophie, and draped the skirt with provoking premeditation,
+so as to reveal the neatest ankle and prettiest little foot in the
+world.
+
+It must be said that Sophie was charming,--emotion, hope, expectation,
+and a vague disquietude, colouring her sweet and attractive face,
+animated her appearance, and gave a bewitching expression to her
+features.
+
+Antonine, struck with the wonderful metamorphosis, exclaimed,
+innocently, clapping her little hands:
+
+"Why, Sophie, I did not know you were as pretty as that!"
+
+"Nor did Sophie know it," replied Madeleine, shrugging her shoulders, "I
+have exhumed so many attractions."
+
+Just then Madame Dutertre's servant, having knocked at the door,
+entered, and said to her mistress:
+
+"Monsieur desires to speak to madame. He is in the shop, and wishes to
+know if madame is at home."
+
+"He knows you are here," whispered Sophie to Madeleine, with a sigh.
+
+"Make him come up," replied the marquise, softly.
+
+"Tell M. Dutertre that I am at home," said Sophie to the servant, who
+went out.
+
+Madeleine, addressing her friend in a voice full of emotion, as she
+extended her arms to her, said:
+
+"And now, good-bye, Sophie; tell your husband that he is delivered from
+M. Pascal."
+
+"You are going already?" said Sophie, with sadness; "when shall I see
+you again?"
+
+"I do not know,--some day, perhaps. But I hear your husband's step. I
+leave you."
+
+Then she added, smiling:
+
+"Only I would like to hide behind that curtain and enjoy your triumph."
+
+And making a sign to Antonine to accompany her, she retired behind the
+curtain which separated the room from the next chamber, just as M.
+Dutertre entered. For some moments the eyes of Charles wandered as if he
+were looking for some one he expected to meet; he had not discovered the
+change in Sophie, who said to him:
+
+"Charles, we are saved, here is the non-suit of M. Pascal."
+
+"Great God! can it be true?" cried Dutertre, looking over the paper his
+wife had just delivered to him; then, raising his eyes, he beheld
+Sophie in her bewitching, coquettish toilet. After a short silence
+produced by surprise and admiration, he exclaimed:
+
+"Sophie! what do I see? This toilet so charming, so new! Is it to
+celebrate our day of deliverance?"
+
+"Charles," replied Sophie, smiling and blushing by turns, "this toilet
+is not new; some years ago, if you remember, you admired me in it."
+
+"If I remember!" cried Dutertre, feeling a thousand tender memories
+awaken in his mind. "Ah, it was the beautiful time of our ardent love,
+and this happy time is born again, it exists. I see you again as in the
+past; your beauty shines in my eyes with a new brilliancy. I do not know
+what this enchantment is; but this elegance, this grace, this coquetry,
+your blushes and the sweet perfume of the iris we used to love so
+much,--all transport me and intoxicate me! Never, no, never, have I seen
+you more beautiful!" added Dutertre, in a passionate voice, as he kissed
+Sophie's little hands. "Oh, yes, it is you, it is you, I have found you
+again, adored mistress of my first love!"
+
+"Now, little girl, I think it is altogether proper that we should
+retire," whispered Madeleine to Antonine, unable to keep from laughing.
+
+And both, stealing away on tiptoe, left the parlour, the door of which
+the marquise discreetly closed, and went into the study of M. Dutertre,
+which opened into the garden.
+
+"Just now, Madeleine," said Antonine to the marquise, "you did not let
+me finish what I came to tell you."
+
+"Very well, speak, my child."
+
+"Count Frantz is here."
+
+
+"He here!" said the marquise, starting with a feeling of sudden
+disappointment. "And why and how is Count Frantz here?"
+
+"Knowing from me that you would be here this morning," said Antonine,
+"he has come to thank you for all your kindness to us. He is waiting in
+the garden,--wait,--there he is!" With these words the young girl
+pointed to Frantz, who was seated on a bench in the garden.
+
+Madeleine threw a long and last look on her blond archangel, nor could
+she restrain the tears which rose to her eyes; then, kissing Antonine on
+the brow, she said, in a slightly altered voice:
+
+"Good-bye, my child."
+
+"Why, Madeleine," exclaimed the young girl, astounded at so abrupt a
+departure, "will you go away without wishing to see Frantz? Why, that is
+impossible--but you will--"
+
+The marquise put her finger on her lips as a sign to Antonine to keep
+silence; then walking away, turning her eyes only once to that side of
+the garden, she disappeared.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours after, the Marquise de Miranda quit Paris, leaving this note
+for the archduke:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MONSEIGNEUR:--I am going to wait for you in Vienna; come and complete
+your capture of me.
+
+"MADELEINE."
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS
+
+GLUTTONY
+
+DOCTOR GASTERINI
+
+
+
+
+GLUTTONY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Toward the end of the month of October, 18--, the following conversation
+occurred in the convent of St. Rosalie, between the mother superior,
+whose name was Sister Prudence, and a certain Abbe Ledoux, whom perhaps
+the readers of these recitals will remember.
+
+The abbe had just entered the private parlour of Sister Prudence, a
+woman about fifty years old, with a pale and serious face and a sharp,
+penetrating eye.
+
+"Well, dear abbe," said she, "what news from Dom Diego? When will he
+arrive?"
+
+"The canon has arrived, my dear sister."
+
+"With his niece?"
+
+"With his niece."
+
+"God be praised! Now, my dear abbe, let us pray Heaven to bless our
+plans."
+
+"Without doubt, my dear sister, we will pray, but, above all, let us
+play a sure game, for it will not be easy to win."
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"The truth. This truth I have learned only this morning, and here it is;
+give me, I pray you, all your attention."
+
+"I am listening, my dear brother."
+
+"Moreover, that we may better agree, and clearly understand our
+position, let us first settle the condition of things in our minds. Two
+months ago, Rev. Father Benoit, who is engaged in foreign missions, and
+at present is in Cadiz, wrote to me recommending to my especial
+consideration Lord Dom Diego, Canon of Alcantara, who was to sail from
+Cadiz to France with his niece, Dolores Salcedo."
+
+"Very well, my brother."
+
+"Father Benoit added that he was sufficiently acquainted with the
+character and disposition of Dolores Salcedo to feel sure that she could
+be easily persuaded to take the veil, a resolution which would have the
+approval of her uncle, Dom Diego."
+
+"And, as she is the only heir of the rich canon, the house which she
+will enter will be greatly benefited by the fortune she inherits."
+
+"Exactly so, my dear sister. Naturally, I have thought of our convent of
+Ste. Rosalie for Senora Dolores, and I have spoken to you of these
+intentions."
+
+"I have adopted them, my dear brother, because, having some experience
+with young girls, I feel almost sure that I can, by persuasion, guard
+this innocent dove from the snares of a seductive and corrupt world, and
+decide her to take the veil in our house. I shall be doing two good
+works: save a young girl, and turn to the good of the poor riches which,
+in other hands, would be used for evil; I cannot hesitate."
+
+"Without doubt; but, now, my dear sister, the inconvenient thing is,
+that this innocent dove has a lover."
+
+"What do you tell me, my brother? What horror! But then, our plans."
+
+"I have just warned you that we must play a sure game."
+
+"And how have you learned this shocking thing, my dear brother?"
+
+"By the majordomo of Dom Diego, a modest servant who keeps me informed
+of everything he can learn about the canon and his niece."
+
+"These instructions are indispensable, my brother, because they enable
+us to act with intelligence and security. But what ideas has this
+majordomo given you concerning this unfortunate love, my dear brother?"
+
+"Hear, now, how things have happened. The canon and his niece embarked
+at Cadiz, on a three-master coming from the Indies, and sailing for
+Bordeaux. Really, now, how many strange fatalities do occur!"
+
+"What fatalities?"
+
+"In the first place, the name of this vessel on which they embarked was
+named _Gastronome._"
+
+"Why, what a singular name for a vessel!"
+
+"Less singular than it appears at first, my dear sister, because this
+vessel, after having carried to the Indies the best unfermented wines of
+Bordeaux and the south, hams from Bayonne, smoked tongues from Troyes,
+pastry from Amiens and Strasbourg, tunnies and olives from Marseilles,
+cheese from Switzerland, preserved fruits from Touraine and Montpellier,
+etc., came back by the Cape of Good Hope with a cargo of wines from
+Constance, pepper, cinnamon, cloves, tea, salted meats of Hachar, and
+other comestibles of the Indies. She was to add to her cargo by taking
+on at Cadiz a large quantity of Spanish wine, and afterward return to
+Bordeaux."
+
+"Good God, my brother! what a quantity of wine and food! It is enough to
+make one shudder. I understand now why the vessel was named the
+_Gastronome._"
+
+"And you understand at the same time, my sister, why I spoke to you of
+strange fatalities, and why the Canon Dom Diego preferred to embark on
+the _Gastronome_, rather than on any other vessel, without any regard to
+her destination."
+
+"Please explain yourself, my brother."
+
+"As for that, I ought first to inform you that I myself was in
+ignorance before my secret conference with the majordomo on the subject
+of the canon; the fact is, he is a fabulous, unheard-of glutton."
+
+"Oh, my brother, what a horrible sin!"
+
+"Horrible sin it may be, but do not abuse this sin too much, my dear
+sister, for, thanks to it, we may perhaps be able to compass our
+praiseworthy end and win our game."
+
+"And how is that, my brother?"
+
+"I am going to tell you. The canon is an ideal glutton. All his
+faculties, all his thoughts, are concentrated upon one sole
+pleasure,--the table; and it seems that at Madrid and at Cadiz his table
+was absolutely marvellous, because now I remember that my physician,
+Doctor Gasterini--"
+
+"An abominable atheist! a Sardanapalus!" exclaimed Sister Prudence,
+interrupting Abbe Ledoux, and raising both hands to heaven. "I have
+never understood why you receive the medical attentions of such a
+miscreant!"
+
+"I will tell you that some day, my dear sister, but, believe me, I know
+what I am doing. Besides, notwithstanding his great age, Doctor
+Gasterini is still the first physician in Paris, as he is the first
+glutton in the world; but, as I was saying to you, my sister, I now
+remember having heard him speak of a Spanish canon's table,--a table
+which, according to one of the doctor's correspondents in Madrid, was
+truly remarkable. At that time I was far from suspecting that it was Dom
+Diego who was the subject of their correspondence. However, the poor man
+is a fool,--a man of small ability, and influenced by all those absurd
+Southern superstitions. So, upon the authority of the majordomo, it will
+be easy to make this gluttonous canon see the devil in flesh and bones!"
+
+"One moment, my brother. I am not altogether displeased with the canon's
+foolish superstition."
+
+"Nor I, my sister; on the contrary, it suits me exactly. That is not
+all. The canon, thanks to his religion, is not deceived about the
+grossness of his ruling passion. He knows that gluttony is one of the
+seven deadly sins. He believes that his sin will send him to hell, yet
+he has not the courage to resist it; he eats with voluptuousness, and
+remorse comes only when he is no longer hungry."
+
+"Instead of remorse, he ought to have indigestion, unhappy man!" said
+Sister Prudence. "That, perhaps, might cure him."
+
+"True, my sister, but that is not the case. However, the canon's life is
+passed in enjoying and regretting that he has enjoyed; sometimes
+remorse, aided by superstition, leads him to expect some sudden and
+terrible punishment from heaven, but when appetite returns remorse is
+forgotten, and thus has it been a long time with the canon."
+
+"After all, my brother, I think him far less culpable than this
+Sardanapalus, your Doctor Gasterini, who impudently indulges his
+appetite without compunction. The canon is, at least, conscious of his
+sin, and that is something."
+
+"Since the character of the canon is now understood, you will not be
+astonished that, finding himself at Cadiz, and learning that a ship
+named the _Gastronome_ was about to sail for France, Dom Diego seized
+the opportunity to embark on a vessel so happily named, so as to be
+able, on his arrival at Bordeaux, to purchase several tons of the
+choicest wines."
+
+"Certainly. I understand that, my dear brother."
+
+"Well, then, Dom Diego embarked with his niece on board the
+_Gastronome._ It is impossible to imagine--so the majordomo told me--the
+quantity of stores, provisions, and refreshments of all sorts with which
+the canon encumbered the deck of this vessel,--obstructions invariably
+forbidden by all rules of navigation,--but the commander of this ship, a
+certain Captain Horace, miscreant that he is, had only too good reason
+for ignoring discipline and making himself agreeable to the canon."
+
+"And this reason, my brother?"
+
+"Fascinated by the beauty of the niece, when Dom Diego came with her to
+stipulate the terms of his passage, this contemptible captain, suddenly
+enamoured of Dolores Salcedo, and expecting to profit by opportunities
+the voyage would offer, granted all that Dom Diego demanded, in the hope
+of seeing him embark with his niece."
+
+"What villainy on the part of this captain, my brother!"
+
+"Fortunately, Heaven has punished him for it, and that can save us.
+Well, the canon and his niece embarked on board the _Gastronome_, laden
+with all that could tempt or satisfy appetite. Just as they left port a
+terrible tempest arose, and the safety of the vessel required everything
+to be thrown into the sea, not only the canon's provisions, but cages of
+birds and beasts taken aboard for the sustenance of the passengers. This
+squall, which drove the vessel far from the coast of Bordeaux, lasted so
+long and with such fury that almost the entire voyage it was impossible
+to do any cooking, and passengers, sailors, and officers were reduced to
+the fare of dry biscuit and salt meat."
+
+"Oh, the unhappy canon! what became of him?"
+
+"He became furious, my sister, because this passage actually cost him
+his appetite."
+
+"Ah, my brother, the finger of Providence was there!"
+
+"In a word, whether by reason of the terror caused by the tempest, or a
+long deprivation of choice food, or whether the detestable nourishment
+he was compelled to take impaired his health, the canon, since he
+disembarked from the _Gastronome_, has completely lost his appetite. The
+little that he eats to sustain him, the majordomo tells me, is insipid
+and unpalatable, no matter how well prepared it may be; and more, he is
+tormented by the idea or superstition that Heaven has justly punished
+him for his inordinate indulgence. And, as Captain Horace is in his eyes
+the chief instrument of Heaven's anger, the canon has taken an
+unconquerable dislike to the miscreant, not forgetting, too, that all
+his luxuries were thrown into the sea by order of the captain. In vain
+has the captain tried to make him comprehend that his own salvation, as
+well as that of many others, depended on this sacrifice; Dom Diego
+remains inflexible in his hatred. Well, my dear sister, would you
+believe that, notwithstanding that, the captain, upon his arrival at
+Bordeaux, had the audacity to ask of Dom Diego the hand of his niece in
+marriage, assuming that this unhappy young girl was in love with him.
+You appreciate the fact, my sister, that two lovers do not remember bad
+cheer or terrible tempests, and that this miscreant has bewildered the
+innocent creature. I need not tell you of the fury of Dom Diego at this
+insolent proposal from the captain, whom he regards as his mortal enemy,
+as the bad spirit sent to him by the anger of Heaven. So the canon has
+informed Dolores that, as a punishment for having dared to fall in love
+with such a scoundrel, he would put her in a convent upon his arrival in
+Paris, and that she should there take the veil."
+
+"But, my brother, so far I see only success for our plans. Everything
+seems to favour them."
+
+"Yes, my sister; but you are counting without the love of Dolores, and
+the resolute character of this damned captain."
+
+"What audacity!"
+
+"He followed on horseback, relay after relay, the carriage of the canon,
+galloping from Bordeaux to Paris like a state messenger. He must have a
+constitution of iron. He stopped at every inn where Dom Diego stopped,
+and during the journey Dolores and the captain were ogling each other,
+in spite of the rage and resistance of Dom Diego. Could he prevent this
+love-sick girl looking out of the window? Could he prevent this
+miscreant riding on the highway by the side of his carriage?"
+
+"Such audacity seems incredible, does it not, my brother?"
+
+"Which is the reason I tell you we must be on guard everywhere from this
+madman. He is not alone; one of his sailors, a veritable blackguard,
+accompanied him, riding behind in his train, and holding on to his horse
+like a monkey on a donkey, so the majordomo told me. But that did not
+matter, this demon of a sailor is capable of anything to help his
+captain, to whom he is devoted. And that is not all. Twenty times on the
+route Dolores positively told her uncle that she did not wish to become
+a religious, that she wished to marry the captain, and that he would
+know how to come to her if they constrained her,--he and his sailor
+would deliver her if they had to set fire to the convent."
+
+"What a bandit!" cried Sister Prudence. "What a desperate villain!"
+
+"You see, dear sister, how things were yesterday, when Dom Diego took
+possession of the apartment I had previously engaged for him. This
+morning he desired me to visit him. I found him in bed and very much
+depressed. He told me that a sudden revolution had taken place in the
+mind of his niece; that now she seemed as submissive and resigned as she
+had been rebellious, that she had at last consented to go to the
+convent, and to-day if it was required."
+
+"My brother, my brother, this is a very sudden and timely change."
+
+"Such is my opinion, my sister, and, if I am not mistaken, this sudden
+change hides some snare. I have told you we must play a sure game. It is
+a great deal, no doubt, to have this love-sick girl in our hands; but
+we must not forget the enemy, this detestable Captain Horace, who,
+accompanied by his sailor, will no doubt be prowling around the house,
+like the ravening wolf spoken of in the Scriptures."
+
+"_Quaerens quem devoret,_" said Sister Prudence, who prided herself upon
+her Latin.
+
+"Just so, my sister, seeking whom he may devour, but, fortunately,
+there's a good watch-dog for every good wolf, and we have intelligent
+and courageous servants. The strictest watchfulness must be established
+without and within. We will soon know where this miscreant of a captain
+lives; he will not take a step without being followed by one of our men.
+He will be very clever and very brave if he accomplishes anything."
+
+"This watchfulness seems to me very necessary, my dear brother."
+
+"Now my carriage is below, let us go to the canon's apartments, and in
+an hour his niece will be here."
+
+"Never to go out of this house, if it pleases Heaven, my brother,
+because it is for the eternal happiness of this poor foolish girl."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours after this conversation Senora Dolores Salcedo entered the
+Convent of Ste. Rosalie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+A few days after the entrance of Senora Dolores Salcedo in the house of
+Ste. Rosalie, and just at the close of the day, two men were slowly
+walking along the Boulevard de l'Hopital, one of the most deserted
+places in Paris.
+
+The younger of these two individuals seemed to be about twenty-five or
+thirty years old. His face was frank and resolute, his complexion
+sunburnt, his figure tall and robust, his step decided, and his dress
+simple and of military severity.
+
+His companion, a little shorter, but unusually square and thick-set,
+seemed to be about fifty-five years old, and presented that type of the
+sailor familiar to the eyes of Parisians. An oilcloth hat, low in shape,
+with a wide brim, placed on the back of his head, revealed a brow
+ornamented with five or six corkscrew curls, known as heart-catchers,
+while the rest of his hair was cut very close. This manner of wearing
+the hair, called the sailor style, was, if traditions are true, quite
+popular in 1825 among crews of the line sailing from the port of Brest.
+
+A white shirt with a blue collar, embroidered in red, falling over his
+broad shoulders, permitted a view of the bull like neck of our sailor,
+whose skin was tanned until it resembled parchment, the colour of brick.
+A round vest of blue cloth, with buttons marked with an anchor, and wide
+trousers bound to his hips by a red woollen girdle, completed our man's
+apparel. Side-whiskers of brown, shaded with fawn colour, encased his
+square face, which expressed both good humour and decision of
+character. A superficial observer might have supposed the left cheek of
+the sailor to be considerably inflamed, but a more attentive examination
+would have disclosed the fact that an enormous quid of tobacco produced
+this one-sided tumefaction. Let us add, lastly, that the sailor carried
+on his back a bag, whose contents seemed quite bulky.
+
+The two men had just reached a place in front of a high wall surrounding
+a garden. The top of the trees could scarcely be distinguished, for the
+night had fallen.
+
+The young man said to his companion, as he stopped and turned his ear
+eastward:
+
+"Sans-Plume, listen."
+
+"Please God, what is it, captain?" said the man with the tobacco quid,
+in reply to this singular surname.
+
+"I am not mistaken, it is certainly here."
+
+"Yes, captain, it is in this made land between these two large trees.
+Here is the place where the wall is a little damaged. I noticed it
+yesterday evening at dusk, when we picked up the stone and the letter."
+
+"That is so. Come quick, my old seaman," said the captain to his sailor,
+indicating with his eye one of the large trees of the boulevard, several
+of whose branches hung over the garden wall. "Up, Sans-Plume, while we
+are waiting the hour let us see if we can rig the thing."
+
+"Captain, there is still a bit of twilight, and I see below a man who is
+coming this way."
+
+"Then let us wait. Hide first your bag behind the trunk of this
+tree,--you have forgotten nothing?"
+
+"No, captain, all my rigging is in there."
+
+"Come, then, let us go. This man is coming; we must not look as if we
+were lying to before these walls."
+
+"That's it, captain, we'll stand upon another tack so as to put him out
+of his way."
+
+And the two sailors began, as Sans-Plume had said in his picturesque
+language, to stand the other tack in the path parallel to the public
+walk, after the sailor had prudently picked up the bag he had hidden
+between the trees of the boulevard and the wall.
+
+"Sans-Plume," said the young man, as they walked along, "are you sure
+you recognise the spot where the hackney-coach awaits us?"
+
+"Yes, captain--But, I say, captain."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That man looks as if he were following us."
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"And spying on us."
+
+"Come along, Sans-Plume, you are foolish!"
+
+"Captain, let us set the prow larboard and you go and see."
+
+"So be it," replied the captain.
+
+And, followed by his sailor, he left the walk on the right of the
+boulevard, crossed the pavement, and took the walk on the left.
+
+"Well, captain," said Sans-Plume, in a low voice, "you see this lascar
+navigates in our waters."
+
+"That is true, we are followed."
+
+"It is not the first time it has happened to me," said Sans-Plume, with
+a shade of conceit, hiding one-half of his mouth with the back of his
+hand in order to eject the excess of tobacco juice produced by the
+mastication of his enormous quid. "One day, in Senegal, Goree, I was
+followed a whole league, bowsprit on stern, captain, till I came to a
+plantation of sugar-cane, and--"
+
+"The devil! that man is surely following us," said the captain,
+interrupting the indiscreet confidences of the sailor. "That annoys me!"
+
+"Captain, do you wish me to drop my bag and flank this lascar with
+tobacco, in order to teach him to ply to our windward in spite of us?"
+
+"Fine thing! but do you keep still and follow me."
+
+The captain and his sailor, again crossing the pavement, regained the
+walk on the right.
+
+"See, captain," said Sans-Plume, "he turns tack with us."
+
+"Let him go, and let us watch his steps."
+
+The man who followed the two sailors, a large, jolly-looking fellow in a
+blue blouse and cap, went beyond them a few steps, then stopped and
+looked up at the stars, for the night had fully come.
+
+The captain, after saying a few words in a low tone to the sailor who
+had hidden himself behind the trunk of one of the large trees of the
+boulevard, advanced alone to meet his disagreeable observer, and said to
+him:
+
+"Comrade, it is a fine evening."
+
+"Very fine."
+
+"You are waiting for some one here?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I, also."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Comrade, have you been waiting long?"
+
+"For three hours at least."
+
+"Comrade," replied the captain, after a moment's silence, "would you
+like to make double the sum they give you for following me and spying
+me?"
+
+"I do not know what you mean. I do not follow you, sir. I am not spying
+you."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No."
+
+"Let us end this. I will give you what you want if you will go on your
+way,--stop, I have the gold in my pocket."
+
+And the captain tingled the gold in his vest pocket, and said:
+
+"I have twenty-five or thirty louis--"
+
+"_Hein!_" said the man, with a singularly insinuating manner,
+"twenty-five or thirty louis?"
+
+At this moment a distant clock sounded half-past seven o'clock. Almost
+at the same instant a guttural cry, resembling a call or a signal, was
+heard in the direction that the man in the blouse had first taken to
+join the two sailors. The spy made a movement as if he understood the
+significance of this cry, and for a moment seemed undecided.
+
+"Half-past seven o'clock," said the captain to himself. "That beggar
+there is not alone."
+
+Having made this reflection, he coughed.
+
+Scarcely had the captain coughed, when the spy felt himself seized
+vigorously at the ankles by some one who had thrown himself suddenly
+between his legs. He fell backwards, but in falling he had time to cry
+with a loud voice:
+
+"Here, John, run to the--"
+
+He was not able to finish. Sans-Plume, after having thrown him down, had
+unceremoniously taken a seat on the breast of the spy, and, holding him
+by the throat, prevented his speaking.
+
+"The devil! do not strangle him," said the captain, who, kneeling down,
+was binding securely with his silk handkerchief the two legs of the
+indiscreet busybody.
+
+"The bag, captain," said Sans-Plume, keeping his grip on the throat of
+the spy, "the bag! it is large enough to wrap his head and arms; we will
+bind him tight around the loins and he will not budge any more than a
+roll of old canvas."
+
+No sooner said than done. In a few seconds the spy, cowled like a monk
+in the bag to the middle of his body, with his legs bound, found himself
+unable to move. Sans-Plume had the courtesy to push his victim into one
+of the wide verdant slopes which separated the trees, and nothing more
+was heard from that quarter but an interrupted series of smothered
+bellowings.
+
+"The alarm will be given at the convent! Half-past seven has just
+struck," said the captain to his sailor. "We must risk all now or all is
+lost!"
+
+"In twice three movements the thing is ready, captain," replied
+Sans-Plume, running with his companion toward the large trees which hung
+over the wall near which they had at first stood.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+While these events were transpiring on the boulevard, and a little
+before half after seven had sounded, another scene was taking place in
+the interior of the convent garden. Sister Prudence, the mother
+superior, and Dolores Salcedo were walking in the garden,
+notwithstanding the advanced hour of the evening.
+
+Dolores, a brunette of charming appearance, united in herself the rare
+and bewitching perfections of Spanish beauty. Hair of a blue black,
+which, when uncoiled, dragged upon the floor; a pale complexion warmed
+by the sun of the South; large eyes, by turns full of fire and languid
+sweetness; a little mouth as red as the bud of the pomegranate steeped
+in dew; a delicate and voluptuous form, tapering fingers, and an
+Andalusian foot and ankle, completed her list of charms. As to the
+exquisite grace of her figure and gait, one must, to have any idea of
+it, have seen the undulating movements of the beautiful senoras of
+Seville or Cadiz, when, speaking with their eyes or playing with their
+fans, they slowly promenade, a beautiful summer evening, on the marble
+floor of the Alameda.
+
+Dolores accompanied Sister Prudence. Walking and talking, the two women
+approached the wall behind which Captain Horace and his sailor had
+stopped.
+
+"You see, my dear daughter," said the mother superior to Dolores, "I
+grant you all you desire, and, although the rules of the house forbid
+promenades in the garden after nightfall, I have consented to stay here
+until half-past seven o'clock, our supper hour, which will soon sound."
+
+"I thank you, madame," said Dolores, with a slight Spanish accent, and
+in a voice deliciously resonant. "I feel that this promenade will do me
+good."
+
+"You must call me mother and not madame, my dear daughter, I have
+already told you that it is the custom here."
+
+"I will conform to it, if I can, madame."
+
+"Again!"
+
+"It is difficult to call a person mother who is not your mother," said
+Dolores, with a sigh.
+
+"I am your spiritual mother, my dear daughter; your mother in God, as
+you are, as you will be, my daughter in God; because you will leave us
+no more, you will renounce the deceitful pleasures of a perverse and
+corrupt world, you will have here a heavenly foretaste of eternal
+peace."
+
+"I begin to discover it, madame."
+
+"You will live in prayer, silence, and meditation."
+
+"I have no other desire, madame."
+
+"Well, well, my dear daughter, after all, what will you sacrifice?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, absolutely nothing!"
+
+"I like that response, my dear daughter; really, it is nothing, less
+than nothing, these wicked and worldly passions which cause us so much
+sorrow and throw us in the way of perdition."
+
+"Just Heaven! it makes me tremble to think of it, madame."
+
+"The Lord inspires you to answer thus, my dear daughter, and I am sure
+now that you can hardly understand how you have been able to love this
+miscreant captain."
+
+"It is true, madame, I was stupid enough to dream of happiness and the
+joys of family affection; criminal enough to find this happiness in
+mutual love and hope to become, like many others, a devoted wife and
+tender mother; it was, as you have told me, an offence to Heaven. I
+repent my impious vows, I comprehend all that is odious in them; you
+must pardon me, madame, for having been wicked and silly to such a
+degree."
+
+"It is not necessary to exaggerate, my dear daughter," said Sister
+Prudence, struck with the slightly ironical accent with which Dolores
+had uttered these last words. "But," added she, observing the direction
+taken by the young girl, "what is the good of returning to this walk? It
+will soon be the hour for supper; come, my dear daughter, let us go back
+to the house."
+
+"Oh, madame, do you not perceive that sweet odour on this side of the
+grove?"
+
+"Those are a few clusters of mignonette. But come, it is getting cool; I
+am not sixteen like you, my dear daughter, and I am afraid of catching
+cold."
+
+"Just one moment, please, that I may gather a few of these flowers."
+
+"Go on, then, you must do everything you wish, my dear daughter; stop,
+the night is clear enough for you to see this mignonette ten steps away;
+go and gather a few sprigs and return."
+
+Dolores, letting go the arm of the mother superior, went rapidly toward
+the clusters of flowers.
+
+At this moment half-past seven o'clock sounded.
+
+"Half-past seven," murmured Dolores, trembling and turning her ear to
+listen, "he is there, he will come!"
+
+"My dear daughter, it is the hour for supper," said the mother superior,
+walking on ahead of the canon's niece. "Stop, do you not hear the clock?
+Quick! quick! come, it will take ten minutes to reach the house, for we
+are at the bottom of the garden."
+
+"Here I am, madame," replied the young girl, running before the mother
+superior, who said to her, with affected sweetness:
+
+"Oh, you foolish little thing, you run like a frightened fawn."
+
+Suddenly Dolores shrieked, and fell on her knees.
+
+"Great God!" cried Sister Prudence, running up to her, "what is the
+matter, dear daughter? Why did you scream? What are you on your knees
+for?"
+
+"Ah, madame!"
+
+"But what is it?"
+
+"What pain!"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In my foot, madame, I have sprained my ankle. Oh, how I suffer! My God,
+how I suffer!"
+
+"Try to get up, my dear child," said the mother, approaching Dolores
+with a vague distrust, for this sprain seemed to her quite unnatural.
+
+"Oh, impossible, madame, I cannot make a movement."
+
+"But try, at least."
+
+"I wish I could."
+
+And the young girl made a show of wishing to stand up, but she fell
+again on her knees, with a shriek that could be heard on the other side
+of the garden wall.
+
+Then Dolores said, with a groan:
+
+"You see, madame, it is impossible for me to move. I pray you return to
+the house, and tell some one to come for me with a chair or a litter.
+Oh, how I suffer! My God, how I suffer! For pity's sake, madame, go back
+quick to the house; it is so far, I shall never be able to drag myself
+there."
+
+"Mademoiselle," cried the mother superior, "I am not your dupe! You have
+no more of a sprain than I have, it is an abominable falsehood! You
+wish, I know not for what reason, to send me away, and remain alone in
+the garden. Ah, indeed you make me repent of my condescension."
+
+The light noise of a few pebbles falling across the boughs of the trees
+attracted the attention of the mother superior and Dolores, who,
+radiant with delight, leaped up with a bound, exclaiming:
+
+"There he is!"
+
+"Of whom are you speaking, unhappy girl?"
+
+"Of Captain Horace, madame," said Dolores, curtseying with mock
+reverence. "He is coming to carry me away."
+
+"What impudence! Ah, you think that in spite of me--"
+
+"We are at the bottom of the garden, madame; cry, call, nobody will hear
+you."
+
+"Oh, what horrible treason!" cried the mother superior. "But it is
+impossible! The men on guard have not dared leave the boulevard since
+nightfall."
+
+"Horatio!" cried Dolores, in a clear, silvery voice. "My Horatio!"
+
+"Shameless creature!" cried Sister Prudence, in desperation, rushing
+forward to seize Dolores by the arm. But the Spanish girl, nimble as a
+gazelle, with two bounds was out of the reach of Sister Prudence, whose
+limbs, stiffened by age, refused to lend themselves to gymnastic
+exercise; and already overcome, she cried, wringing her hands:
+
+"Oh, those miserable patrols! They have not been on guard. I would cry,
+but they would not hear me at the convent. To run there is to leave this
+wretched girl here alone! Ah, I understand too late why this serpent
+wished to prolong our walk."
+
+"Horatio," cried Dolores a second time, holding herself at a distance
+from the mother superior, "my dear Horatio!"
+
+"Descend!" cried a ringing male voice which seemed to come from the sky.
+
+This celestial voice was no other than that of Captain Horace, giving
+the signal to his faithful Sans-Plume to descend something.
+
+The mother superior and Dolores, notwithstanding the difference of the
+emotions which agitated them, raised their eyes simultaneously when they
+heard the voice of Captain Horace.
+
+But let us recall the situation of the walk and garden in order to
+explain the miracle about to be manifested to the sight of the recluse.
+
+Two of the largest branches of the trees on the boulevard outside
+extended like a gibbet, so to speak, above and beyond the coping of the
+convent wall. The night was so clear that Dolores and the mother
+superior saw, slowly descending, sustained by cords, an Indian hammock
+in the bottom of which Captain Horace was extended, throwing with his
+hand a shower of kisses to Dolores.
+
+When the hammock was within two feet of the earth, the captain called,
+in a ringing voice: "Stop!"
+
+The hammock rested motionless. The captain leaped out of it, and said to
+the young girl:
+
+"Quick, we have not a moment to lose! Dear Dolores, get into this
+hammock at once and do not be afraid."
+
+"You will kill me first, villain!" cried the mother superior, throwing
+herself upon the young girl, whom she held within her arms, at the same
+time crying out, "Help! help!"
+
+At this moment lights could be seen coming and going at a distance from
+the bottom of the garden.
+
+"Here comes somebody at last!" screamed Sister Prudence, redoubling her
+cries of "Help! help!"
+
+"Madame," said the captain, "let loose Dolores immediately!" And he
+forcibly withdrew the young girl from the obstinate embrace, holding
+Sister Prudence until Dolores could spring into the hammock. Seeing her
+safely seated there, the captain called:
+
+"Ho there! Hoist."
+
+And the hammock rose rapidly, so light was the weight of the young girl.
+
+[Illustration: "_'You shall not escape me.'_"
+
+Original etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+Sister Prudence, thoroughly enraged, and thinking that help would
+come perhaps too late, for the lights were still distant, screamed
+louder than ever, and threw herself on the hammock, to hold it down; but
+the captain drew her arm familiarly within his own, and, in spite of her
+struggles, held her like a vice.
+
+"Dolores," said the captain, "do not be afraid, my love. When you reach
+the large branches, yield yourself without fear to the motion which will
+draw the hammock outside the wall. Sans-Plume is on the other side, and
+he is watching everything. Tell him, as soon as you reach the earth, to
+throw me the knotted rope, and hold it well on the outside."
+
+"Yes, my Horatio," said Dolores, who was already eight or ten feet above
+the earth; "be calm, our love doubles my courage."
+
+And the young mocker, leaning out of the hammock, said, with a laugh;
+
+"Good evening, Sister Prudence, good evening!"
+
+"You will be damned, accursed creature," said the mother superior.
+
+"But you, you wretch! you shall not escape me," added she, holding on
+with desperate and convulsive anger to the captain's arm.
+
+"They are coming, and you will be taken."
+
+In fact, the lights were becoming more and more visible, and the captain
+could distinctly hear the voices of persons calling:
+
+"Sister Prudence! Sister Prudence!"
+
+The arrival of this aid increased the strength of the mother superior,
+who still clinched the arm of Horace. She was beginning to embarrass the
+sailor quite seriously; he could not resort to violence to escape this
+aged woman. In the meanwhile, the lights and the voices came nearer and
+nearer, and Sans-Plume, occupied, no doubt, in assuring the safe descent
+of Dolores on the other side of the wall, had not yet thrown the rope,
+his only means of flight. Then wishing, at any cost, to extricate
+himself from the grasp of the sister, the captain said to her:
+
+"I pray you, madame, release me."
+
+"Never, villain. Help, help!"
+
+"Then pardon me, madame, because you force me to it. I am going to dance
+with you an infernal waltz, a riotous polka."
+
+"A polka with me! You dare!"
+
+"Come, madame, since you insist upon it we must. Keep time to the air.
+Tra, la, la, la."
+
+And joining the act to the words, the merry sailor passed the arm that
+was free around the bony waist of Sister Prudence, and carried her with
+him, singing his refrain and whirling her around with such rapidity
+that, at the end of a few seconds, bewildered, dizzy, and suffocated,
+she could only gasp the syllables:
+
+"Ah, help--help--you--wretch! He--takes--my--breath! Help--help!"
+
+And soon overcome by the rapid whirling, Sister Prudence felt her
+strength failing. The captain saw her about to faint on his arms, and
+only had time to lay her gently on the grass.
+
+"Ho!" at this moment cried Sans-Plume on the other side of the wall, as
+he threw over the knotted rope to the captain.
+
+"The devil, it is high time!" said the captain, rushing after the rope,
+for the lights and the persons who carried them were no more than fifty
+steps distant.
+
+Armed with pitchforks and guns, they approached the mother superior, who
+had recovered sufficiently to point over the wall as she said:
+
+"There he is getting away!"
+
+One of the men, armed with a gun, guided by her gesture, saw the
+captain, who, thanks to his agility as a sailor, had just gained the
+crest of the wall.
+
+The man fired his gun, but missed his aim.
+
+"You! You!" cried he to another man armed like himself. "There he is on
+the top of the wall reaching for the branches of that tree,--fire!"
+
+The second shot was fired just at the moment when Captain Horace,
+astride one of the branches projecting over the garden, was approaching
+the trunk of the tree, by means of which he meant to descend on the
+outside. Scarcely had the second shot been fired, when Horace made a
+sudden leap, stopped a moment, and then disappeared in the thick foliage
+of the trees.
+
+"Run! run outside!" cried Sister Prudence, still panting for breath.
+"There is still time to catch them!"
+
+The orders of the mother superior were executed, but when they arrived
+on the boulevard outside, Dolores, the captain, and Sans-Plume had
+disappeared. They found nothing but the hammock, which was lying a few
+steps from the spy, who, enveloped in his bag, dolefully uttering
+smothered groans at the bottom of the ditch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Eight days after the abduction of Dolores Salcedo by Captain Horace,
+Abbe Ledoux, in bed, received the visit of his physician.
+
+The invalid, lying in a soft bed standing in the alcove of a comfortable
+apartment, had always a fat and ruddy face; his triple chin descended to
+the collar of a fine shirt made of Holland cloth, and the purple
+brilliancy of the holy man's complexion contrasted with the immaculate
+whiteness of his cotton cap, bound, according to the ancient custom,
+with an orange-coloured ribbon. Notwithstanding these indications of
+plethoric health, the abbe, his head propped on his pillow in a doleful
+manner, uttered from time to time the most plaintive groans, while his
+hand, small and effeminate, was given to his physician, who was gravely
+feeling his pulse.
+
+Doctor Gasterini,--such was the name of the physician,--although
+seventy-five years old, did not look sixty. Tall and erect, as well as
+lean and nervous, with a clear complexion and rosy lips, the doctor,
+when he smiled with his pleasant, elegant air, disclosed thirty-two
+teeth of irreproachable whiteness, which seemed to combine the polish of
+ivory with the sharp durability of steel; a forest of white hair,
+naturally curled, encircled the amiable and intelligent face of the
+doctor. Dressed always in black, with a certain affectation, he remained
+faithful to the tradition of small-clothes made of silk cloth, with shoe
+buckles of gold, and silk stockings, which clearly delineated his
+strong, sinewy legs.
+
+Doctor Gasterini was holding delicately between his thumb and his index
+finger--whose rosy polished nails might have been the envy of a pretty
+woman--the wrist of his patient, who religiously awaited the decision of
+his physician.
+
+"My dear abbe," said the doctor, "you are not at all sick."
+
+"But, doctor--"
+
+"You have a soft, pliant skin, and sixty-five pulsations to the minute.
+It would be impossible to find conditions of better health."
+
+"But, again, doctor, I--"
+
+"But, again, abbe, you are not sick. I am a good judge, perhaps."
+
+"And I tell you, doctor, that I have not closed my eyes the whole night.
+Madame Siboulet, my housekeeper, has been on her feet constantly,--she
+gave me several times some drops made by the good sisters."
+
+"Stuff!"
+
+"And orange flower distilled at the Sacred Heart."
+
+"The devil!"
+
+"Yes, doctor, you may laugh; none of these remedies have given me
+relief. I have done nothing but turn over and over all night long in my
+bed. Alas, alas! I am not well. I have an excitement, an insupportable
+weariness."
+
+"Perhaps, my dear abbe, you experienced yesterday some annoyance, some
+contradiction, and as you are very obstinate, very conceited, very
+spiteful--"
+
+"I?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Doctor, I assure you--"
+
+"This annoyance, I tell you, might have put you in a diabolical humour;
+for I know no remedy which can prevent these vexations. As to being ill,
+or even indisposed, you are not the least so in the world, my dear
+abbe."
+
+"Then why did I ask you to come to see me this morning?"
+
+"You ought to know that better than I, my dear abbe; nevertheless, I
+suspect the unusual motive which has made you desire my visit."
+
+"That is rather hard."
+
+"No, not very hard, for we are old acquaintances, and I know all your
+tricks, my dear abbe."
+
+"My tricks!--you know my tricks?"
+
+"You contrive excellent ones, sometimes,--but to return to our subject,
+I believe that, under a pretext of sickness which really does not exist,
+you have sent for me to learn from me, directly or indirectly, something
+which is of interest to you."
+
+"Come, doctor, that is rather a disagreeable pleasantry."
+
+"Wait, my dear abbe. In my youth I was physician to the Duke d'Otrante,
+when he was minister of police. He enjoyed, like you, perfect health,
+yet there was scarcely a day that he did not exact a visit from me. I
+was unsophisticated then, and, although well equipped in my profession,
+I had need of patrons, so, notwithstanding my visits to his Excellency
+seemed unnecessary, I went to his house regularly every day, about the
+hour he made his toilet, and we conversed. The minister was very
+inquisitive, and as I was professionally thrown with persons of all
+conditions, he, with charming good nature, plied me with questions
+concerning my patients. I responded with all the sincerity of my soul.
+One day I arrived, as I have told you, at the minister's house, when he
+had just completed his toilet, the very moment when a journeyman barber,
+the most uncleanly-looking knave I had ever seen in my life, had
+finished shaving him.
+
+"'M. duke,' said I to the minister, after the barber had departed, 'how
+is it that, instead of being shaved by one of your valets, you prefer
+the services of these frightful journeyman barbers whom you change
+almost every fortnight?'
+
+"'My dear,' replied the duke in a confidential tone, "'you cannot
+imagine how much one can learn about all sorts of people and things,
+when one knows how to set such fellows as that prattling.' Was this
+confession an amusement or a blunder on the part of this great man, or,
+rather, did he think me too silly to comprehend the full significance of
+his words? I do not know; but I do know that this avowal enlightened me
+as to the real intention of his Excellency in having me chat with him so
+freely every morning. After that, I responded with much circumspection
+to the questions of the cunning chief, who knew so well how to put in
+practice the transcendent maxim, 'The best spies are those who are spies
+without knowing it.'"
+
+"The anecdote is interesting, as are all that you tell, my dear doctor,"
+replied the abbe, with repressed anger, "but I swear to you that your
+allusion is entirely inapplicable, and that, alas! I am very sick."
+
+"Forty years yet of such illness, and you will become a centenarian, my
+dear abbe," said the doctor, rising and preparing to take his leave.
+
+"Oh, what a man! what a man!" cried the abbe. "Do listen to me, doctor,
+you have a heart of bronze; can you abandon a poor sick man in this
+manner? Give me five minutes!"
+
+"So be it; let us chat if you wish it, my dear abbe. I have a quarter of
+an hour at your disposal; you are a man of mind, I cannot better employ
+the time given to this visit."
+
+"Ah, doctor, you are cruel!"
+
+"If you wish a more agreeable physician, address some others of my
+fraternity. You will find them eager to give their attention to the
+celebrated preacher, Abbe Ledoux, the most fashionable director of the
+Faubourg St. Germain--for, in spite of the Republic, or, for reason of
+the Republic, there is more than ever a Faubourg St. Germain, and, under
+every possible administration, the protection of Abbe Ledoux would be a
+lofty one."
+
+"No, doctor, I want no other physician than you, terrible man that you
+are! Just see the confidence you inspire in me. It seems to me your
+presence has already done me good,--it calms me."
+
+"Poor dear abbe, what confidence! It is touching; that certainly proves
+that it is only faith which saves."
+
+"Do not speak of faith," said the abbe, affecting anger pleasantly. "Be
+silent, you pagan, materialist, atheist, republican, for you are and
+have been all, at your pleasure."
+
+"Oh, oh, abbe, what an array of fine words!"
+
+"You deserve them, wicked man; you will be damned, do you hear?--more
+than damned!"
+
+"God may will it that we may meet each other some day, my poor abbe."
+
+"I, damned?"
+
+"Eh, eh."
+
+"Do I abandon myself as you do to the brutality of all my appetites?
+Go,--you are a perfect Sardanapalus!"
+
+"Flatterer! but then it is your manner. You reproach an old Lovelace for
+the enormities of which he would like to be guilty, and in the meantime
+you know that he has none of them; but it is all the same, your
+reproaches delight him, they render him cheerful; then he confesses all
+sorts of sins, of which, alas! he is incapable, poor man, and you have
+the air of giving a last pretext to his decaying imbecility."
+
+"Fie! fie! doctor, the serpent had no more malignity than you."
+
+"You reproach the broken-down politician, the powerless man of state,
+not less furiously, for his dark intrigues to overthrow the political
+world,--Europe, perhaps. Then with what unction the poor man relishes
+your reproaches! Everybody flies him like a pest when he opens his mouth
+to bore them with his politics; but what good fortune for him to unveil
+to you his Machiavellian projects for the advantage of the destinies of
+Europe, and to find a patient listener to the ravings of his old age."
+
+"Yes, yes, jest, jeer, ridicule, you rascally doctor! You wish to excuse
+yourself by reviling others."
+
+"Let us see, abbe, let us make an examination of conscience. Our
+professions will be inverted; I, the physician for the body, am going to
+ask a consultation with you, the physician for the soul."
+
+"And you will have precious need of this consultation."
+
+"Of what do you accuse me, abbe?"
+
+"In the first place, you are a glutton, like Vitellius, Lucullus, the
+Prince of Soubise, Talleyrand, D'Aigrefeuille, Cambaceres, and
+Brillat-Savarin all together."
+
+"A flatterer always! You reproach me for my only great and lofty
+quality."
+
+"Ah, come now, doctor, do you take me for an oyster with your frivolous
+talk?"
+
+"Take you for an oyster? How conceited you are! Unfortunately, I cannot
+make a comparison so advantageous to you, abbe. It would be a heresy, an
+anachronism. Good oysters (and others are not counted as existing) do
+not give the right to discuss them until about the middle of November,
+and we are by no means there."
+
+"This, doctor, may be very witty, but it does not convince me in the
+least that gluttony is, in you or any other person, a quality."
+
+"I will convince you of it."
+
+"You?"
+
+"I, my dear abbe."
+
+"That would be rather difficult. And how?"
+
+"Give me your evening on the twentieth of November and I will prove
+that--"
+
+But interrupting himself, the doctor added:
+
+"Come now, my dear abbe, what are you constantly looking at there by the
+side of that door?"
+
+The holy man, thus taken unawares, blushed to his ears, for he had
+listened to the doctor with distraction, impatiently turning his eyes
+toward the door as if he expected a person who had not arrived; but
+after the first moment of surprise the abbe did not seem disconcerted,
+and replied:
+
+"What door do you speak of, doctor? I do not know what you mean."
+
+"I mean that you frequently look on this side as if you expected the
+appearance of some one."
+
+"There is no one in the world, dear doctor, except you, who could have
+such ideas. I was entirely absorbed in your sophistical but intelligent
+conversation."
+
+"Ah, abbe, abbe, you overwhelm me!"
+
+"You wish, in a word, doctor, to prove to me that gluttony is a noble,
+sublime passion, do you not?"
+
+"Sublime, abbe, that is the word, sublime,--if not in itself at least in
+its consequences; above all, in the interest of agriculture and
+commerce."
+
+"Come, doctor, that is a paradox. Agriculture and commerce are sustained
+as other things are."
+
+"It is not a paradox, it is a fact, yes, a fact, and if it is
+demonstrated to you positively, mathematically, practically, and
+economically, what can you say? Will you still doubt it?"
+
+"I will doubt, or rather I will believe this abomination less than
+ever."
+
+"How, in spite of evidence, abbe?"
+
+"Because of evidence, if so be that this evidence can ever exist, for it
+is by just such means of these pretended evidences, these perfidious
+appearances, that the bad spirit leads us into the most dangerous
+snares."
+
+"What, abbe, the devil! I am not a seminarian whom you are preparing to
+take the bands. You are a man of mind and of knowledge. When I talk
+reason to you, talk reason to me, and not of the devil and his horns."
+
+"But, pagan, idolater that you are, do you not know that gluttony is
+perhaps the most abominable of the seven capital sins?"
+
+"In the first place, abbe, I pray you do not calumninate like that the
+seven capital sins, but speak of them with the deference which is their
+due. I have found them profoundly respected in general and in
+particular."
+
+"Indeed, it is not only gluttony that he glorifies,--he pushes his
+paradox to the glorification of the seven capital sins!"
+
+"Yes, dear abbe, all the seven, considered from a certain point of
+view."
+
+"That is monomania."
+
+"Will you be convinced, abbe?"
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Of the possible excellence,--of the conditional existence of the
+worldly and philosophical excellence of the seven capital sins."
+
+"Really, doctor, do you take me for a child?"
+
+"Give me your evening on the twentieth of November; you will be
+convinced."
+
+"Come now, doctor, why always the twentieth of November?"
+
+"That is for me a prophetic day, and more, it is the anniversary of my
+birth, my dear abbe, so give me your evening on that day and you will
+not regret having come."
+
+"Very well, then, the twentieth of November, if my health--"
+
+"Permits you,--well understood, my dear abbe; but my experience tells me
+that you will be able to drag yourself to see me on that day."
+
+"What a man. He is capable of giving me a perfect example, in his big
+own damned person, of the seven capital sins."
+
+At this moment the door opened.
+
+It was on this door, more than once, that the glances of Abbe Ledoux had
+been turned with secret and growing impatience, during his conversation
+with the doctor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The abbe's housekeeper, having entered the chamber, handed a letter to
+her master, and, exchanging with him a look of intelligence, said:
+
+"It is very urgent, M. abbe."
+
+"Permit me, doctor?" said the holy man, before breaking the seal of the
+letter he held in his hand.
+
+"At your convenience, my dear abbe," replied the doctor, rising from his
+seat; "I must leave you now."
+
+"I pray you, just a word!" cried the abbe, who seemed especially anxious
+that the doctor should not depart so soon. "Give me time to glance over
+this letter, and I am at your service."
+
+"But, abbe, we have nothing more to say to each other. I have an urgent
+consultation, and the hour is--"
+
+"I implore you, doctor," insisted the abbe, breaking the seal and
+running his eyes over the letter he had just received, "in the name of
+Heaven, give me only five minutes, not more."
+
+Surprised at this singular persistence on the part of the abbe, the
+doctor hesitated to go out, when the invalid, discontinuing his reading
+of the letter, raised his eyes to heaven and exclaimed:
+
+"Ah, my God, my God!"
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Ah, my poor doctor!"
+
+"Finish what you have to say."
+
+"Ah, doctor, it was Providence that sent you here."
+
+"Providence!"
+
+"Yes, because I find it in my power to render you a great service,
+perhaps."
+
+The physician appeared to be a little doubtful of the good-will of Abbe
+Ledoux, and accepted his words not without a secret distrust.
+
+"Let us see, my dear abbe," replied he, "what service can you render
+me?"
+
+"You have sometimes spoken to me of your sister's numerous children,
+whom you have raised (notwithstanding your faults, wicked man) with
+paternal tenderness, after the early death of their parents."
+
+"Go on, abbe," said the doctor, fixing a penetrating gaze on the saintly
+man, "go on."
+
+"I was altogether ignorant that one of your nephews served in the navy,
+and had been made captain. His name is Horace Bremont, is it not?"
+
+At the name of Horace, the doctor started, imperceptibly; his gaze
+seemed to penetrate to the depth of the abbe's heart, and he replied,
+coldly:
+
+"I have a nephew who is captain in the navy and his name is Horace."
+
+"And he is now in Paris?"
+
+"Or elsewhere, abbe."
+
+"For God's sake, let us talk seriously, my dear doctor, the time is
+precious. See here what has been written to me and you will judge of the
+importance of the letter.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"'M. ABBE:--I know that you are very intimate with the celebrated Doctor
+Gasterini; you can render him a great service. His nephew, Captain
+Horace, is compromised in a very disagreeable affair; although he has
+succeeded in hiding himself up to this time, his retreat has been
+discovered and perhaps, at the moment that I am writing to you, his
+person has been seized.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The abbe stopped and looked attentively at the doctor.
+
+The doctor remained impassible.
+
+Surprised at this indifference, the abbe said, in a pathetic tone:
+
+"Ah, my poor doctor, what cruel suffering for you! But what has this
+unfortunate captain done?"
+
+"I know nothing about it, abbe, continue."
+
+Evidently the saintly man expected another result of the reading of his
+letter. However, not allowing himself to be disconcerted, he continued:
+
+"'Perhaps at this moment his person has been seized,'" repeated he,
+laying stress on these words, and going on with the letter. "'But there
+remains one chance of saving this young man who is more thoughtless than
+culpable; you must, upon the reception of this letter, send some one
+immediately to Doctor Gasterini.'"
+
+And, stopping again, the abbe added:
+
+"As I told you, doctor, Providence sent you here."
+
+"It has never done anything else for my sake," coldly replied the
+doctor. "Go on, abbe."
+
+"'You must, upon the reception of this letter, send immediately to
+Doctor Gasterini,'" repeated the abbe, more and more surprised at the
+impassibility of the physician, and his indifference to the misfortune
+which threatened his nephew. "'The doctor must send some person in whom
+he has confidence, without losing a minute, to warn Captain Horace to
+leave his retreat. Perhaps in this way he may get the start of the
+officers about to arrest this unfortunate young man.'
+
+"I need not say more to you, my dear doctor," hastily added the abbe,
+throwing the letter on the bed. "A minute's delay may lose all. Run,
+quick, save this unhappy young man! What! You do not move; you do not
+reply! What are you thinking of, my poor doctor? Why do you look at me
+with such a strange expression? Did you not hear what has been written
+to me? And it is underlined, too. 'He must go instantly, without losing
+a minute, to warn Captain Horace to leave his retreat.' Really, doctor,
+I do not understand you."
+
+"But I understand you perfectly, my dear abbe," said the doctor, with
+sardonic calmness. "But, upon honour, this expedient is really not up to
+the height of your usual inventions; you have done better than that,
+abbe, much better."
+
+"An expedient! My inventions!" replied the abbe, feigning amazement.
+"Come, doctor, you surely are not speaking seriously?"
+
+"You have forgotten, dear abbe, that an old fox like me discovers a
+snare from afar."
+
+"Doctor," replied the abbe, no longer able to conceal his violent anger,
+"you are at liberty to jest,--at liberty to let the time pass, and lose
+the opportunity of saving your nephew. I have warned you as a friend.
+Now, do as you please, I wash my hands of it."
+
+"So then, my dear abbe, you were and you are in the plot of those
+sanctimonious persons who desired to make a nun of Dolores Salcedo, for
+the purpose of getting possession of the property she would one day
+inherit from her uncle, the canon?"
+
+"Dolores Salcedo! Her uncle, the canon! Really, doctor, I do not know
+what you mean."
+
+"Ah! ah! you are in that pious plot! It is well to know it; it is always
+useful to recognise your adversaries, above all, when they are as clever
+as you are, dear abbe."
+
+"But, hear me, doctor, I swear to you--"
+
+"Stop, abbe, let us play an open game. You sent for me this morning,
+that the pathetic epistle you have just read to me might arrive in my
+presence."
+
+"Doctor!" cried the abbe, "that is carrying distrust, suspicion, to a
+point which becomes--which becomes--permit me to say it to you--"
+
+"Oh, by all means,--I permit you."
+
+"Well, which becomes outrageous in the last degree, doctor. Ah, truly,"
+added the abbe, with bitterness, "I was far from expecting that my
+eagerness to do you a kindness would be rewarded in such a manner."
+
+"Zounds! I know very well, my poor abbe, that you hoped your ingenious
+stratagem would have an entirely different result."
+
+"Doctor, this is too much!"
+
+"No, abbe, it is not enough. Now, listen to me. This is what you hoped,
+I say, from your ingenious stratagem: Frightened by the danger to which
+my nephew was exposed, I would thank you effusively for the means you
+offered me to save him, and would fly like an arrow to warn this poor
+fellow to leave his place of concealment."
+
+"So, in fact, any other person in your place, doctor, would have done,
+but you take care not to act so reasonably. Surely, to speak the truth,
+you must be struck with frenzy and blindness."
+
+"Alas! abbe, it is the beginning of the punishment for my sins. But let
+us return to the consequences of your ingenious stratagem. According to
+your hope, then, I would fly like an arrow to save, as you advise, my
+nephew. My carriage is below. I would get in it, and have myself
+conveyed as rapidly as possible to the mysterious retreat of Captain
+Horace."
+
+"Eh, without doubt, doctor, that is what you should have done some time
+ago."
+
+"Now, do you know what would have happened, my poor abbe?"
+
+"You would have saved your nephew."
+
+"I would have lost him, I would have betrayed him, I would have
+delivered him to his enemies,--and see how. I wager that at this very
+hour, while I am talking to you, there is, not far from here in the
+street, and even in sight of this house, a cab, to which a strong horse
+is hitched, and by a strange chance (unless you countermand your order)
+this cab would follow my carriage wherever it might go."
+
+The abbe turned scarlet, but replied:
+
+"I do not know what cab you are speaking of, doctor."
+
+"In other words, my dear abbe, you have been seeking traces of my nephew
+in vain. In order to discover his retreat, you have had me followed in
+vain. Now, you hoped, by the sudden announcement of the danger he was
+running, to push me to the extremity of warning the captain. Your
+emissary below would have followed my carriage, so that, without knowing
+it, I, myself, would have disclosed the secret of my nephew's
+hiding-place. Again, abbe, for any other than yourself, the invention
+was not a bad one, but you have accustomed your admirers--and permit me
+to include myself among them--to higher and bolder conceptions. Let us
+hope, then, that another time you will show yourself more worthy of
+yourself. Good-bye, and without bearing you any grudge, my dear abbe, I
+count on you for our pleasant evening the twentieth of November.
+Otherwise, I will come to remind you of your promise. Good-bye, again,
+my poor, dear abbe. Come, do not look so vexed,--so out of countenance;
+console yourself for this little defeat by recalling your past
+triumphs."
+
+And with this derisive conclusion to his remarks, Doctor Gasterini left
+Abbe Ledoux.
+
+"You sing victory, old serpent!" cried the abbe, purple with anger and
+shaking his fist at the door by which the doctor went out. "You are very
+arrogant, but you do not know that this morning even we have recaptured
+Dolores Salcedo, and your miserable nephew shall not escape us, for I am
+as cunning as you are, infernal doctor, and, as you say, I have more
+than one trick in my bag."
+
+The doctor, the subject of this imprecatory monologue, had concealed the
+disquietude he felt by the discovery he had just made. He knew Abbe
+Ledoux capable of taking a brilliant revenge, so as he descended the
+steps of the saintly man's house, the doctor, before entering his
+carriage, looked cautiously on both sides of the street. As he expected,
+he saw a public cab about twenty steps from where he was standing. In
+this cab was a large man, wearing a brown overcoat. Walking up to the
+cab, the doctor, with a confidential air, said in a low voice to the
+large man:
+
+"My friend, you are posted there, are you not, to follow this open
+carriage with two horses, standing before the door, Number 17?"
+
+"Sir," said the man, hesitating, "I do not know who you are, or why
+you--"
+
+"Hush! my friend," replied the doctor, in a tone full of mystery, "I
+have just left Abbe Ledoux; the order of proceeding is changed; the abbe
+expects you at once, to give you new orders,--quick, go, go!"
+
+The fat man, reassured by the explicit directions given by the doctor,
+hesitated no longer, descended from his cab, and went in haste to see
+the Abbe Ledoux. When the doctor saw the door close upon the emissary of
+the abbe, feeling certain that he was not followed, he ordered his
+coachman to drive in haste to the Faubourg Poissonniere, for if he
+feared nothing for his nephew, he had reason enough for uneasiness since
+he had learned that Abbe Ledoux was concerned in this intrigue.
+
+The doctor's carriage had just entered one of the less frequented
+streets of the Faubourg Poissonniere, not far from the gate of the same
+name, when he perceived at a short distance quite a large assemblage in
+front of a modest-looking house. The doctor ordered his carriage to
+stop, descended from it, mingled with the crowd, and said to one of the
+men:
+
+"What is the matter there, sir?"
+
+"It seems, sir, they are taking back a stray dove to the dove-cote."
+
+"A dove!"
+
+"Yes, or if you like it better, a young girl who escaped from a convent.
+The commissary of police arrived with his deputies, and a very fat man
+in a blue overcoat, who looked like a priest. He had the house opened.
+The fugitive was found there, and put into a carriage with the fat man
+in a blue overcoat. I have never seen any citizen ornamented with such a
+stomach."
+
+Doctor Gasterini did not wait to hear more, but rushed through the crowd
+and imperatively rang the bell at the door of the little house of which
+we have spoken. A young servant, still pale with emotion, came to open
+it.
+
+"Where is Madame Dupont?" asked the physician, impatiently.
+
+"She is at home, sir. Oh, sir, if you only knew!"
+
+The doctor made no reply; went through two apartments, and entered a
+bedchamber, where he found an aged woman, with a venerable-looking face
+full of sweetness.
+
+"Ah, doctor, doctor!" cried Madame Dupont, bursting into tears, "what a
+misfortune, what a scandal, poor young girl!"
+
+"I am grieved, my poor Madame Dupont, that the service you rendered me
+should have been followed by such disagreeable consequences."
+
+"Oh, do not think it is that which afflicts, doctor. I owe you more than
+my life, since I owe you the life of my son; I do not think of
+complaining of a transient vexation, and I know you too well, in other
+things, to raise the least doubt as to the intentions which led you to
+ask me to give a temporary asylum to this young girl."
+
+"By this time, my dear Madame Dupont, I can and I ought to tell you all.
+Here is the whole story in two words: I have a nephew, an indiscreet
+boy, but the bravest fellow in the world; he is captain in the marine
+service. In his last voyage from Cadiz to Bordeaux he took as passengers
+a Spanish canon and his niece. My nephew fell desperately in love with
+the niece, but by a series of events too long and too ridiculous to
+relate to you, the canon took the greatest aversion to my nephew, and
+informed him that he should never marry Dolores. The opposition
+exasperated the lovers; my devil of a nephew followed the canon to
+Paris, discovered the convent where the uncle had placed the young girl,
+put himself in correspondence with her, and eloped with her.
+Horace--that is his name--is an honest fellow, and, the elopement
+accomplished, he introduced Dolores to me and confessed all to me. While
+the marriage was pending, he besought me to place this young girl in a
+suitable house, since, for a thousand reasons, it was impossible for me
+to keep the child in my house after such an uproar. Then I thought of
+you, my good Madame Dupont."
+
+"Ah, sir, I was certain that you acted nobly in that as you have always,
+and, besides, the short time that she was here Mlle. Dolores interested
+me exceedingly,--indeed I was already attached to her, and you can judge
+of my distress this morning when--"
+
+"The commissary of police ordered the house to be opened; I know it. And
+the canon, Dom Diego, accompanied him."
+
+"Yes, sir, he was furious; he declared that he was acquainted with the
+French law; that it would not permit such things; that it was abduction
+of a minor, and that they were searching on all sides for your nephew."
+
+"That is what I expected, and I exacted from my nephew, not only that he
+would not see Dolores again until all was arranged, but that he would
+keep himself concealed in order to escape the pursuit which I hoped to
+quiet. Now I do not know if I can succeed; the situation is grave. I
+have told Horace so, but the deed was done, and I confess I revolted
+against the thought of placing this poor Dolores myself in the hands of
+the canon, a kind of gluttonous, superstitious brute, from whom there is
+nothing to hope."
+
+"Ah, doctor, I am now well enough acquainted with Mlle. Dolores to be
+sure that she will die of grief if she is left in that convent, and
+believe me, sir, in the scene of this morning, that which most
+distresses me is not the scandal of which my poor house has been the
+theatre, but the thought of the sad future which is perhaps reserved for
+that unhappy child. And now that I know all, doctor, I am all the more
+troubled in thinking of the grave consequences that this abduction may
+entail upon your nephew."
+
+"I share your fears most keenly, my dear Madame Dupont. After a
+discovery that I have this morning made, I am afraid that a complaint
+has already been instituted against Horace; if it has not been it will
+be, to-day perhaps, for now that Dolores is again in the power of her
+uncle, if he can have my nephew arrested he will have nothing to fear
+from his love for Dolores. Ah, this arrest would be dreadful! Law is
+inflexible. My nephew went by night to a convent and abducted a minor.
+It is liable to infamous punishment, and for him that would be worse
+than death!"
+
+"Great God!"
+
+"And his brothers and sisters who love him so much! What sorrow for
+me,--for our family!" added the old man, with sadness.
+
+"But, sir, there ought to be something we can do to put a stop to this
+pursuit."
+
+"Ah, madame, dear Madame Dupont," replied the doctor, overcome with
+emotion, "I lose my head when I think of the terrible consequences which
+may result from this foolish adventure of a young man."
+
+"But what shall we do, doctor, what shall we do?"
+
+"Ah, do I know myself what to do, my poor Madame Dupont? I am going to
+reflect on the best course to pursue, but I am dealing with such a
+powerful adversary that I dare not hope for success." And Doctor
+Gasterini left the Faubourg Poissonniere in a state of inexpressible
+anxiety.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The day after Dolores Salcedo had been taken back to the convent, the
+following scene took place in the home of the canon, Dom Diego, who
+lodged in a comfortable apartment engaged for him before his arrival by
+Abbe Ledoux.
+
+It was eleven o'clock in the morning.
+
+Dom Diego, reclining in a large armchair, seemed to be assailed by
+gloomy thoughts. He was a large man of fifty years, and of enormous
+obesity; his fat, bloated cheeks mingled with his quadruple chin, his
+dingy skin was rough and flabby, and revealed the weakness of the inert
+mass. His features were not wanting in a kind of good-humour, when they
+were not under the domination of some disagreeable idea. His large mouth
+and thick, hanging under-lip denoted sensuality. With half-closed eyes
+under his heavy gray eyebrows, and hands crossed upon his Falstaff
+stomach, whose vast rotundity was outlined beneath a violet-coloured
+morning-gown, the canon sighed from time to time in a mournful and
+despondent tone.
+
+"More appetite, alas! more appetite!" murmured he. "Too many tossings of
+the sea have upset me. My stomach, so stout, so regular in its habits,
+is distracted like a watch out of order. This morning, at breakfast,
+ordinarily my most enjoyable meal, I have hardly eaten at all.
+Everything seemed insipid or bitter. What will it be at dinner, oh, what
+will it be at dinner, a repast which I make almost always without hunger
+in order to take and taste the delicate flower of the best things? Ah,
+may that infernal Captain Horace be cursed and damned! The horrible
+regimen to which I was subjected during that long voyage cost me my
+appetite; my stomach was irritated and revolted against those execrable
+salt meats and abominable dry vegetables. So, since this injury done to
+the delicacy of its habits, my stomach pouts and treats me badly, as if
+it were my fault, alas! It has a grudge against me, it punishes me, it
+looks big before the best dishes!
+
+"But who knows if the hand of Providence is not there? Now that I do not
+feel the least hunger I realise that I have abandoned myself to a sin as
+detestable as--delectable. Alas! gluttony! Perhaps Providence meant to
+punish me by sending this miserable Captain Horace on my route. Ah, the
+scoundrel, what evil has he done! And this was not enough; he abducted
+my niece, he plunged me in new tribulations; he upset my life, my
+repose. I, who only asked to eat with meditation and tranquillity! Oh,
+this brigand captain! I will have my revenge. But whatever may be my
+revenge, double traitor, I cannot return to you the twentieth part of
+the evil that I owe you. Because here are two months that I have lost my
+appetite, and if I should live one hundred years, I should never catch
+up with those two months of enforced abstinence!"
+
+This dolorous monologue was interrupted by the entrance of the canon's
+majordomo, an old servant with gray hair.
+
+"Well, Pablo," said Dom Diego to him, "you come from the convent?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And my unworthy niece?"
+
+"Sir, she is in a sort of delirium, she has a hot fever; sometimes she
+calls for Captain Horace with heartrending cries, sometimes she invokes
+death, weeping and sobbing. I assure you, sir, it is enough to break
+your heart."
+
+Dom Diego, in spite of his selfish sensuality, seemed at first touched
+by the majordomo's words, but soon he cried:
+
+"So much the better! Dolores only has what she deserves. This will teach
+her to fall in love with the most detestable of men. She will remain in
+the convent, she shall take the veil there. My excellent friend and
+companion, Abbe Ledoux, is perfectly right; by this sample of my niece's
+tricks I shall know what to expect, if I keep her near me,--perpetual
+alarms and insults until I had her married, well or ill. Now to cut
+short all this the Senora Dolores will take the veil, and accomplish her
+salvation; my wealth will some day enrich the house, where they will
+pray for the repose of my soul, and I will be relieved of this she-devil
+of a niece,--three benefits for one."
+
+"But, my lord, if the condition of the senora requires--"
+
+"Not a word more, Pablo!" cried the canon, fearing he might be moved to
+pity in spite of himself. "Not a word more. Have I not, alas! enough
+personal troubles without your coming to torture me, to irritate me,
+with contradictions?"
+
+"Pardon, sir, then, I wish to speak to you of another thing."
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"There is a man in the antechamber who desires to speak with you."
+
+"Who is this man?"
+
+"An old man, well dressed."
+
+"And what does this man want?"
+
+"To talk with you, sir, upon a very important affair. He has brought
+with him a large box that a porter has just delivered. It seems very
+heavy."
+
+"And what is this box, Pablo?"
+
+"I do not know, sir."
+
+"And the name of this man?"
+
+"Oh, a very strange name."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Appetite, sir."
+
+"What! this man's name is Appetite?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You must have misunderstood him."
+
+"No, sir, I made him repeat his name twice. It is certainly Appetite."
+
+"Alas, alas! what a cruelly ironical name!" murmured the canon, with
+bitterness. "But no matter, for the rarity of the name, send this man in
+to me."
+
+An instant after the man announced by the majordomo entered,
+respectfully saluted Dom Diego, and said to him:
+
+"It is Lord Dom Diego whom I have the honour of addressing?"
+
+"Yes, what do you wish of me?"
+
+"First, sir, to pay you the tribute of my profound admiration; then, to
+offer you my services."
+
+"But, monsieur, what is your name?"
+
+"Appetite, sir."
+
+"Do you write your name as appetite, the desire for food, is written?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but I confess that it is not my name, but my surname."
+
+"To deserve such a surname you ought to be eminently well endowed by
+nature, M. Appetite; you ought to enjoy an eternal hunger," said the
+canon, with a sigh of regretful envy.
+
+"On the contrary, I eat very little, sir, as almost all those who have
+the sacred mission of making others eat."
+
+"How? What, then, is your profession?"
+
+"Cook, sir, and would like the honour of serving you, if I can merit
+that felicity."
+
+The canon shook his head sadly, and hid his face in his hands; he felt
+all his griefs revive at the proposition of M. Appetite, who went on to
+say:
+
+"My second master, Lord Wilmot, whose stomach was so debilitated that
+for almost a year he ate without pleasure, and even without knowing the
+taste of different dishes, literally devoured food the first day I had
+the honour of serving him. It was he who, through gratitude, gave me the
+name of Appetite, which I have kept ever since."
+
+The canon looked at his visitor attentively, and replied:
+
+"Ah, you are a cook? But tell me, you have spoken to me of paying me the
+tribute of your admiration and of offering me your services, where were
+you acquainted with me?"
+
+"You have, sir, during your sojourn in Madrid, often dined with the
+ambassador of France."
+
+"Oh, yes, that was my good time," replied Dom Diego, with sadness. "I
+rendered ample justice to the table of the ambassador of France, and I
+have proclaimed the fact that I knew of no better practitioner than his
+chef."
+
+"And this illustrious practitioner, with whom, my lord, I am in
+correspondence, that we may mutually keep pace with the progress of the
+science, has written to me to express his joy at having been so worthily
+appreciated by a connoisseur like yourself. I had taken note of your
+name, and yesterday, learning by chance that you were in search of a
+cook, I come to have the honour of offering you my services."
+
+"And from whom do you come, my friend?"
+
+"For ten years, my lord, I have worked only for myself, that is to say,
+for art. I have a modest fortune, but enough, so it is not a mercenary
+motive which brings me to you, sir."
+
+"But why do you offer your services to me, rather than to some one
+else?"
+
+"Because, being free to choose, I consult my convenience; because I am
+very jealous, my lord, horribly jealous."
+
+"Jealous; and of what?"
+
+"Of my master's fidelity."
+
+"What, the fidelity of your master?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; and I am sure you will be faithful, because you live
+alone, without family, and, by condition as well as character, you have
+not, like so many others, all sorts of inclinations which always bore or
+annoy one; as a serious and convinced man, you have only one passion,
+but profound, absolute, and that is gluttony. Well, this passion, I
+offer, my lord, to satisfy, as you have never been satisfied in your
+life."
+
+"You talk of gold, my dear friend, but do you know that, to make good
+your claims, in the use of such extravagant language, you must have
+great talent,--prodigious talent?"
+
+"This great, this prodigious talent I have, my lord."
+
+"Your avowal is not modest."
+
+"It is sincere, and you know, sir, that one may employ a legitimate
+assurance, from the consciousness of his power."
+
+"I like this noble pride, my dear friend, and if your acts respond to
+your words, you are a superior person."
+
+"Sir, put me to trial to-day, this hour."
+
+"To-day, this hour!" cried the canon, shrugging his shoulders. "You do
+not know, then, that for two accursed months I have been in this
+deplorable state; that there is nothing I can taste; that this morning I
+have left untouched a breakfast ordered from Chevet, who supplies me
+until my kitchen is well appointed. Ah, if you did not have the
+appearance of an honest man, I would think you came to insult my
+misery,--proposing to cook for me when I am never the least hungry."
+
+"Sir, my name is Appetite."
+
+"But I repeat to you, my dear friend, that only an hour ago I refused
+the choicest things."
+
+"So much the better, my lord, I could not present myself to you at a
+more favourable juncture; my triumph will be great."
+
+"Listen, my dear friend, I cannot tell you if it is the influence of
+your name, or the learned and exalted manner with which you speak of
+your art, which gives me confidence in you, in spite of myself; but I
+experience, I will not say, a desire to eat, because I would challenge
+you to make me swallow the wing of an ortolan; but indeed I experience,
+in hearing you reason upon cooking, a pleasure which makes me hope that
+perhaps, later, if appetite returns to me, I--"
+
+"My lord, pardon me if I interrupt you; you have a kitchen here?"
+
+"Certainly, with every appointment. A fire has just been kindled there
+to keep warm what was brought already prepared from Chevet, but, alas!
+utterly useless."
+
+"Will you give me, sir, a half-hour?"
+
+"What to do?"
+
+"To prepare a breakfast for you, sir."
+
+"With what?"
+
+"I have brought all that is necessary."
+
+"But what is the good of this breakfast, my dear friend? Go, believe me,
+and do not compromise a talent in which I am pleased to believe, by
+engaging in a foolish, impossible undertaking."
+
+"Sir, will you give me a half-hour?"
+
+"But I ask again, for what good?"
+
+"To make you eat an excellent breakfast, sir, which will predispose you
+for a still better dinner."
+
+"That is folly, I tell you; you are mad."
+
+"Try, my lord; what do you risk?"
+
+"Go on, then, you must be a magician."
+
+"I am, sir, perhaps," replied the cook, with a strange smile.
+
+"Very well, bear then the penalty of your own pride," cried Dom Diego,
+ringing violently. "If you are instantly overwhelmed with humiliation,
+and are compelled to confess the impotence of your art, it is you who
+would have it. Take care, take care."
+
+"You will eat, my lord," replied the artist, in a professional tone;
+"yes, you will eat, and much, and deliciously."
+
+At the moment the cook pronounced these rash words the majordomo, called
+by the sound of the bell, entered.
+
+"Pablo," said the canon, "open the kitchen to this man, and lay a cover
+for me. Justice must be done."
+
+"But, sir, this morning--"
+
+"Do as I tell you, conduct M. Appetite to the kitchen, and if he has
+need of help, let some one help him."
+
+"I have need of no one, sir, I am accustomed to work alone in my
+laboratory. I ask of you permission to shut myself in."
+
+"Have all that you wish, my dear friend, but may I be for ever damned
+for my sins if I swallow a mouthful of what you are going to serve me. I
+understand myself, I think, and there is really an overweening pride in
+you--"
+
+"It is half-past eleven, my lord," said the cook, interrupting Dom
+Diego, with majesty; "when the clock strikes noon you will breakfast."
+
+And the artist went out, accompanied by the majordomo.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+After the disappearance of M. Appetite, this strange cook who offered
+his services with such superb assurance, the canon, left alone, said to
+himself, as he rose painfully from his chair and walked to and fro with
+agitation:
+
+"The arrogant self-confidence of this cook confounds me and impresses me
+in spite of myself. But if he thinks he is dealing with a novice in the
+knowledge of dainty dishes, he has made a mistake, and I will make him
+see it. Well, what a fool I am to be so much disturbed! Can any human
+power give me in five minutes the hunger that has failed me for two
+months? Ah, that accursed Captain Horace! What a pleasure it would be to
+me to put him under lock and key! To think that the only nourishment he
+would have would be the nauseous diet given to prisoners, watered by a
+glass of blue wine, as rough to the throat as a rasp, and as sour as
+spoiled vinegar. But bah! This scoundrel, accustomed, doubtless, to the
+frequent privations endured by mariners, is capable of being indifferent
+to such a martyrdom, and of preserving his insolent appetite, while
+I--Ah, if this cook has not told me a lie! But, no, no, like all the
+French he is braggart, he is full of pride! And yet his assurance seems
+to me conscientious. He has something, too, in his look, in his
+countenance, expressive of power. But, in fact, what is this man? Where
+does he come from? Can I trust myself to his sincerity? I recall now
+that, when I spoke to him of the impossibility of reviving my appetite,
+he replied, with a significant bow: 'My lord, perhaps I am a magician.'
+If there are magicians they are the sons of the evil spirit, and God
+keep me from ever meeting them! This man must be a real magician if he
+makes me eat. Alas, I am a great sinner! Satan takes all sorts of forms,
+and if--Oh, no, no, I shudder at the very thought! I must turn away from
+such doleful meditations!"
+
+Then, after a moment's silence, the canon added, as he looked at his
+watch:
+
+"See, it will soon be noon. In spite of myself, the nearer the fatal
+hour comes, the more my anxiety increases. I feel a strange emotion, I
+can admit it to myself. I am almost afraid. It seems to me that this man
+at this very hour is surrendering himself to a mysterious incantation,
+that he is plotting something superhuman, because to resurrect the dead
+and resurrect my appetite would be to work the same miracle. And this
+wonderful man has undertaken to work this miracle. And if he does, must
+I not recognise his supernatural power? Come, come, I am ashamed of this
+weakness. Well, I am indifferent, I prefer not to be alone, because the
+nearer the hour the more uncomfortable I am. I must ring for Pablo. (He
+rings.) Yes, the silence of this dwelling, the thought that this strange
+man is there in that subterranean kitchen, bending over his blazing
+furnace, like some bad spirit occupied with his sorcery,--all that gives
+me a strange sensation. Ah, so Pablo does not hear!" cried the canon,
+now at the highest pitch of uneasiness.
+
+And he rang the bell again, violently.
+
+Pablo did not appear.
+
+"What does that mean?" murmured Dom Diego, looking around him in dismay.
+"Pablo does not come! What a frightful and gloomy silence! Oh, something
+wonderful is happening! I dare not take a step."
+
+Turning his ear to listen, the canon added:
+
+"What is that hollow sound? Nothing human. Some one is coming. Ah, I
+have not a drop of blood in my veins!"
+
+At this moment the door opened so violently that the canon screamed and
+hid his face in his hands, as he gasped the words:
+
+"_Vade--retro--Satanas!_"
+
+It was not Satan by any means, but Pablo, the majordomo, who, not having
+answered the two calls of the bell, was running precipitately, and thus
+produced the noise that the superstitious imagination of the canon
+transformed into something mysterious and supernatural.
+
+The majordomo, struck with the attitude of the canon, approached him,
+and said:
+
+"Ah, my God, what is the matter with you, my lord?"
+
+At the voice of Pablo, Dom Diego dropped his fat hands, which covered
+his face, and his servant saw the terror depicted in the master's
+countenance.
+
+"My lord, my lord, what has happened?"
+
+"Nothing, poor Pablo,--a foolish idea, which I am ashamed of now. But
+why are you so late?"
+
+"Sir, it is not my fault."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"I wished, sir, from curiosity, to enter this kitchen to see the work of
+this famous cook."
+
+"Very well, Pablo?"
+
+"After I assisted him in carrying his box, this strange man ordered me
+out of the kitchen, where he wished, he said, to be absolutely alone."
+
+"Ah, Pablo, how he surrounds himself with mystery!"
+
+"I obeyed, my lord, but I could not resist the temptation to stay
+outside at the door."
+
+"To listen?"
+
+"No, sir, to scent."
+
+"Well, Pablo?"
+
+"Ah, my lord, my lord!"
+
+"What is it, Pablo?"
+
+"Little by little an odour passed through the door, so delicious, so
+exquisite, so tempting, so exciting, that it was impossible for me to go
+away. If I had been nailed to the door I could not have been more
+immovable. I was bewildered, fascinated, entranced!"
+
+"Truly, Pablo?"
+
+"You know, my lord, that you gave me the excellent breakfast they
+brought to you this morning."
+
+"Alas! yes."
+
+"That breakfast I have eaten, my lord."
+
+"Happy Pablo!"
+
+"Well, sir, this odour of which I tell you was so appetising that I felt
+myself seized with a furious hunger, and, without leaving the door, I
+took from one of the shelves of the pantry a large piece of dry bread."
+
+"And you ate it, Pablo?"
+
+"I devoured it, my lord."
+
+"Dry?"
+
+"Dry," replied the majordomo, bowing his head.
+
+"Dry!" cried the canon, raising his hands and eyes to heaven. "It is a
+miracle! He breakfasted an hour ago like an ogre, and now he has just
+bolted a piece of dry bread!"
+
+"Yes, my lord, this dry bread, seasoned with that juicy odour, seemed to
+me the most delicious of morsels."
+
+At this moment the clock struck noon.
+
+"Noon!" cried the majordomo. "This marvellous cook instructed me to
+serve you, my lord, at noon precisely. The cover is already laid on the
+little table. I am going to bring it."
+
+"Go, Pablo," said the canon, with a meditative air. "My destiny is about
+to be accomplished. The miracle, if it is a miracle, is going to be
+performed,--if it is to be performed; for I swear, in spite of all you
+have just told me, I have not the least appetite. I have a heavy
+stomach and a clammy mouth. Go, Pablo, I am waiting."
+
+There was a resignation full of doubt, of curiosity, of anguish, and of
+vague hope, in the accent with which Dom Diego uttered the words, "I am
+waiting."
+
+Soon the majordomo reappeared.
+
+He walked with a solemn air, bearing on a tray a little chafing-dish of
+silver, the size of a plate, surmounted with its stew-pan. On the side
+of the tray was a small crystal flagon, filled with a limpid liquid, the
+colour of burnt topaz.
+
+Pablo, as he approached, several times held his nose to the edge of the
+stew-pan to inhale the appetising exhalations which escaped from it;
+finally, he placed on the table the little chafing-dish, the flagon, and
+a small card.
+
+"Pablo," asked the canon, pointing to the chafing-dish, surmounted with
+its pan, "what is that silver plate?"
+
+"It belongs to M. Appetite, sir; under this pan is a dish with a double
+bottom, filled with boiling water, because this great man says the food
+must be eaten burning hot."
+
+"And that flagon, Pablo?"
+
+"Its use is marked on the card, sir, which informs you of all the dishes
+you are going to eat."
+
+"Let me see this card," said the canon, and he read:
+
+"'Guinea fowl eggs fried in the fat of quails, relieved with a gravy of
+crabs.
+
+"'N. B. Eat burning hot, make only one mouthful of each egg, after
+having softened it well with the gravy.
+
+"'Masticate _pianissimo._
+
+"'Drink after each egg two fingers of Madeira wine of 1807, which has
+made five voyages from Rio Janeiro to Calcutta. (It is needless to say
+that certain wines are vastly improved by long voyages.)
+
+"'Drink this wine with meditation.
+
+"'It is impossible for me not to take the liberty to accompany each dish
+which I have the honour of serving Lord Dom Diego with a flagon of wine
+appropriate to the particular character of the aforesaid dish.'"
+
+"What a man!" exclaimed the majordomo, with an expression of profound
+admiration, "he thinks of everything!"
+
+The canon, whose agitation was increasing, lifted the top of the silver
+dish with a trembling hand.
+
+Suddenly a delicious odour spread itself through the atmosphere. Pablo
+clasped his hands, dilating his wide nostrils and looking at the dish
+with a greedy eye.
+
+In the middle of the silver dish, half steeped in an unctuous, velvety
+gravy of a beautiful rosy hue, the majordomo saw four little round soft
+eggs, that seemed still to tremble with their smoking, golden frying.
+
+The canon, struck like his majordomo with the delicious fragrance of the
+dish, literally ate it with his eyes, and for the first time in two
+months a sudden desire of appetite tickled his palate. Nevertheless, he
+still doubted, believing in the deceitful illusion of a false hunger.
+Taking in a spoon one of the little eggs, well impregnated with gravy,
+he shovelled it into his large mouth.
+
+"Masticate _pianissimo_, my lord!" cried Pablo, who followed every
+motion of his master with a beating heart. "Masticate slowly, the
+magician said, and afterward drink this, according to the directions."
+
+And Pablo poured out two fingers of the Madeira wine of 1807, in a glass
+as thin as the peel of an onion, and presented it to Dom Diego.
+
+Oh, wonder! Oh, marvel! Oh, miracle! The second movement of the
+mastication _pianissimo_ was hardly accomplished when the canon threw
+his head gently back, and, half shutting his eyes in a sort of ecstasy,
+crossed his two hands on his breast, still holding in one hand the spoon
+with which he had just served himself.
+
+"Well, my lord?" said Pablo, with keen interest, as he presented the two
+fingers of Madeira wine, "well?"
+
+The canon did not reply, but took the glass eagerly and carried it to
+his lips.
+
+"Above all, sir, drink with meditation," cried Pablo, a scrupulous
+observer of the cook's order.
+
+The canon drank, indeed, with meditation, then clapped his tongue
+against his palate, and, if that can be said, listened an instant to
+relish the flower of the wine which mingled so marvellously with the
+after-taste of the dish he had just tasted; then, without replying to
+the interrogations of Pablo, he ate _pianissimo_ the three last Guinea
+fowl eggs, with a pensive and increasing delectation, emptied the little
+flagon of Madeira wine, and,--must we confess the dreadful
+impropriety?--he actually dipped his bread so scrupulously into every
+drop of the crab gravy in which the eggs were served that the bottom of
+the silver dish soon shone with an immaculate lustre.
+
+Then addressing his majordomo for the first time, Dom Diego exclaimed,
+in a tender voice, while tears glittered in his eyes:
+
+"Ah, Pablo!"
+
+"What is the matter, my lord? This emotion--"
+
+"Pablo, I do not know who it is has said that great joys have something
+melancholy in them; whoever did say it has not made a mistake, because,
+from the infirmity of our nature, we often sink under the weight of the
+greatest felicities. Now, for the first time in two months, I can really
+say I eat, and I eat as I have never eaten in my life. No, no, human
+language, you must see, my dear Pablo, cannot express the luxury, the
+exquisite delicacy of this dish, so simple in appearance, Guinea fowl
+eggs fried in the fat of quail, watered with gravy of crabs. No, for you
+see, in proportion as I relish them I felt my appetite renew itself, and
+at present I am much more hungry than before I ate. And this wine,
+Pablo, this wine, how it melts in the mouth, hey?"
+
+"Alas! my lord," said the majordomo, with a woeful face, "I do not know
+even the taste of this wine, but I am glad to believe you."
+
+"Oh, yes, believe me, my poor Pablo; it is dry and velvety at the same
+time,--what shall I say? a nectar! and if you only knew, Pablo, how
+admirably the flavour of this nectar mingles with the perfume of the
+crab gravy! It is ideal, Pablo, ideal, I tell you, and I ought to be
+radiant, crazy with joy in the recovery of my lost appetite,--well, no,
+I feel myself overcome with an inexpressible tenderness; in fact, I weep
+like a child! Pablo, do you see it? I am weeping, I am hungry!"
+
+A bell sounded.
+
+"What is that, Pablo?"
+
+"It is he, my lord."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"The great man! he is ringing for us."
+
+"He?"
+
+"Yes, my lord," replied Pablo, removing the dish. "He declares that
+those who eat should be at the call of those who prepare their food, for
+only the latter know the hour, the minute, the instant each dish ought
+to be served and tasted so as not to lose one atom of its worth."
+
+"What he has said is very deep! He is right. Run, then, Pablo. My God!
+he is ringing again! I hope he has not taken offence. Go quick, quick!"
+
+The majordomo ran, and, let us confess the impropriety, the poor
+creature, instigated by a consuming curiosity, dared to lick the dish he
+carried with desperate greediness, although the canon had left it
+absolutely clean. The ever increasing impatience with which the canon
+looked for the different dishes, always unknown to him beforehand, can
+be imagined.
+
+Each service was accompanied with an "order," as Pablo called it, and a
+new flagon of wine, drawn, no doubt, from the cellar of this wonderful
+cook.
+
+A collection of these culinary bulletins will give an idea of the varied
+delights enjoyed by Dom Diego.
+
+After the note which announced the Guinea fowl eggs, the following menu
+was served, in the order in which we present it:
+
+"Trout from the lake of Geneva with Montpellier butter, preserved in
+ice.
+
+"Envelope each mouthful of this exquisite fish, hermetically, in a layer
+of this highly spiced seasoning.
+
+"Masticate _allegro._
+
+"Drink two glasses of this Bordeaux wine, Sauterne of 1834, which has
+made the voyage from the Indies three times.
+
+"This wine should be _meditated._"
+
+"A painter or a poet would have made an enchanting picture of this trout
+with Montpellier butter preserved in ice," said the canon to Pablo. "See
+there, this charming little trout, with flesh the colour of a rose, and
+a head like mother-of-pearl, voluptuously lying on this bed of shining
+green, composed of fresh butter and virgin oil congealed by ice, to
+which tarragon, chive, parsley, and water-cresses have given this bright
+emerald colour! And what perfume! How the freshness of this seasoning
+contrasts with the pungency of the spices which relieve it! How
+delicious! And this wine of Sauterne! As the great man of the kitchen
+says, how admirably this ambrosia is suited to the character of this
+divine trout which gives me a growing appetite!"
+
+After the trout came another dish, accompanied with this bulletin:
+
+"Fillets of grouse with white Piedmont truffles, minced raw.
+
+"Enclose each mouthful of grouse between two slices of truffle, and
+moisten the whole well with sauce a la Perigueux, with which black
+truffles are mingled.
+
+"Masticate _forte_, as the white truffles are raw.
+
+"Drink two glasses of this wine of Chateau-Margaux 1834,--it also has
+made a voyage from the Indies.
+
+"This wine reveals itself in all its majesty only in the after-taste."
+
+These fillets of grouse, far from appeasing the growing appetite of the
+canon, excited it to violent hunger, and, in spite of the profound
+respect which the orders of the great man had inspired in him, he sent
+Pablo, before another ringing of the bell, in search of a new culinary
+wonder.
+
+Finally the bell sounded.
+
+The majordomo returned with this note, which accompanied another dish:
+
+"Salt marsh rails roasted on toast a la Sardanapalus.
+
+"Eat only the legs and rump of the rails; do not cut the leg, take it by
+the foot, sprinkle it lightly with salt, then cut it off just above the
+foot, and chew the flesh and the bone.
+
+"Masticate _largo_ and _fortissimo_; eat at the same time a mouthful of
+the hot toast, coated over with an unctuous condiment made of the
+combination of snipe liver and brains and fat livers of Strasburg,
+roebuck marrow, pounded anchovy, and pungent spices.
+
+"Drink two glasses of Clos Vougeot of 1817.
+
+"Pour out this wine with emotion, drink it with religion."
+
+After this roast, worthy of Lucullus or Trimaleyon, and enjoyed by the
+canon with all the intensity of unsatisfied hunger, the majordomo
+reappeared with two side-dishes that the menu announced thus:
+
+"Mushrooms with delicate herbs and the essence of ham; let this divine
+mushroom soften and dissolve in the mouth.
+
+"Masticate _pianissimo._
+
+"Drink a glass of the wine Cote-Rotie 1829, and a glass of Johannisberg
+of 1729, drawn from the municipal vats of the burgomasters of
+Heidelberg.
+
+"No recommendation to make for the advantage of the wine, Cote-Rotie; it
+is a proud, imperious wine, it asserts itself. As for the old
+Johannisberg, one hundred and forty years old, approach it with the
+veneration which a centenarian inspires; drink it with compunction.
+
+"Two sweet side-dishes.
+
+"Morsels a la duchesse with pineapple jelly.
+
+"Masticate _amoroso._
+
+"Drink two or three glasses of champagne dipped in ice, dry Sillery the
+year of the comet.
+
+"Dessert.
+
+"Cheese from Brie made on the farm of Estonville, near Meaux. This house
+had for forty years the honour of serving the palate of Prince
+Talleyrand, who pronounced the cheese of Brie the king of cheeses,--the
+only royalty to which this great diplomatist remained faithful unto
+death.
+
+"Drink a glass or two of Port wine drawn from a hogshead recovered from
+the great earthquake of Lisbon.
+
+"Bless Providence for this miraculous salvage, and empty your glass
+piously.
+
+"N. B. Never fruits in the morning; they chill, burden, and involve the
+stomach at the expense of the repose of the evening; simply rinse the
+mouth with a glass of cream from the Barbadoes of Madame Amphoux, 1780,
+and take a light siesta, dreaming of dinner."
+
+It is needless to say that all the prescriptions of the cook were
+followed literally by the canon, whose appetite, now a prodigious thing,
+seemed to increase in proportion as it was fed; finally, having
+exhausted his glass to the last drop, Dom Diego, his ears scarlet, his
+eyes softly closed, and his cheeks flushed, commenced to feel the tepid
+moisture and light torpor of a happy and easy digestion; then, sinking
+into his armchair with a delicious languor, he said to his majordomo:
+
+"If I were not conscious of a tiger's hunger, which threatens explosion
+too soon, I would believe myself in Paradise. So, Pablo, go at once for
+this great man of the kitchen, this veritable magician; tell him to come
+and enjoy his work; tell him to come and judge of the ineffable
+beatitude in which he has plunged me, and above all, Pablo, tell him
+that if I do not go myself to testify my admiration, my gratitude, it is
+because--"
+
+The canon was interrupted by the sight of the culinary artist, who
+suddenly entered the room, and stood face to face with Diego, staring at
+him with a strange expression of countenance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+At the sight of the cook, who wore, according to the habit of his
+profession, a white vest and a cotton cap,--the ancient and highly
+classic schools of Laguipierre, Morel, and Careme remained faithful to
+the cotton cap, the young romantic school adopting the toque of white
+muslin,--Canon Dom Diego rose painfully from his armchair, made two
+steps toward the culinary artist, with his hands extended, and cried, in
+a voice full of emotion:
+
+"Welcome, my saviour, my friend, my dear friend! Yes, I am proud to give
+you this title; you have deserved it, because I owe you my appetite, and
+appetite is happiness,--it is life!"
+
+The cook did not appear extremely grateful for the friendly title with
+which the canon had honoured him; he remained silent, his arms crossed
+on his breast, and his gaze fixed on Dom Diego, but the latter, in the
+fiery ardour of gastronomic gratitude, did not observe the sardonic
+smile,--we would almost say Satanic smile,--which played upon the lips
+of the great man of the kitchen, and so continued the expression of his
+gratitude:
+
+"My friend," pursued the canon, "from this day you are mine; your
+conditions will be mine. I am rich; good cheer is my only passion, and
+for you I will not be a master, but an admirer. Never, my friend, never,
+have you been better appreciated. You have told me yourself you work
+only for art, and you prove it, for I declare openly you are the
+greatest master cook of the world. The miracle that you have wrought
+to-day, not only in restoring my appetite, but in increasing it as I
+tasted your masterpieces (even at this hour I feel able to enjoy another
+breakfast), this miracle, I say, places you outside of the line of
+ordinary cooks. We will never part, my dear friend; all that you ask I
+will grant; you can take other assistants, other subalterns, if you
+desire to do so. I wish to spare you all fatigue; your health is too
+precious to me to permit you to compromise it, for henceforth,--I feel
+it there," and Dom Diego put his fat hand on his stomach,--"henceforth,
+I shall not know how to live without you, and--"
+
+"So," cried the cook, interrupting the canon, and smiling with a
+sarcastic air, "so you have breakfasted well, my lord canon?"
+
+"Have I breakfasted well, my dear friend! Let me tell you I owe you the
+enjoyment of an hour and a quarter. An inexpressible enjoyment, without
+intermission except when your services were interrupted, and these
+intermissions were filled with delight. Hovering between hope and
+remembrance, was I not expecting new pleasures with an insatiable
+longing? You ask me if I have breakfasted well! Pablo will tell you that
+I have wept with tenderness. That is my reply."
+
+"I have been permitted, my lord, to send you some wines as
+accompaniments, because good dishes without good wines are like a
+beautiful woman without soul. Now, have you found these wines palatable,
+my lord?"
+
+"Palatable! Great God, what blasphemy! Inestimable samples of all known
+nectars--palatable! Wines whose value could not be paid, if you
+exchanged them, bottle for bottle, with liquid gold--palatable! Come
+now, my dear friend, your modesty is exaggerated, as you seemed a moment
+ago to exaggerate your immense talent. But I recognise the fact that, if
+your genius should be boasted to hyperbole, there would still remain
+more than half untold."
+
+"I have still more wine of this quality," said the cook, coldly; "for
+twenty-five years I have been preparing a tolerable cellar for myself."
+
+"But this tolerable cellar, my dear friend, must have cost you
+millions?"
+
+"It has cost me nothing, my lord."
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"They are all so many gifts to my humble merit."
+
+"I am by no means astonished, my dear friend, but what are you going to
+do with this cellar, which is rich enough to be the envy of a king? Ah,
+if you desired to surrender to me the whole, or a part of it, I would
+not hesitate to make any sacrifice for its possession; because, as you
+have just said with so much significance, good dishes without good wines
+are like a beautiful woman without soul. Now, these wines accompany your
+productions so admirably that--I--"
+
+The cook interrupted Dom Diego with a sarcastic, sneering laugh.
+
+"You laugh, my friend?" said the canon, greatly surprised. "You laugh?"
+
+"Yes, my lord, I laugh."
+
+"And at what, my friend?"
+
+"At your gratitude to me, my lord canon."
+
+"My friend, I do not understand you."
+
+"Ah, Lord Dom Diego! you believe that your good angel--and I picture him
+to myself, fat and chubby, dressed as I am, like a cook, and wearing
+pheasant wings on the back of his white robe!--ah, you believe, I say,
+my lord canon, that your good angel has sent me to you!"
+
+"My dear friend," said Dom Diego, stretching his large eyes, and feeling
+very uncomfortable on account of the cook's sardonic humour, "my dear
+friend, I pray you, explain yourself clearly."
+
+"My lord canon, this day will prove a fatal one for you."
+
+"Great God! what do you say?"
+
+"My lord canon!" replied the cook, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed
+in a threatening manner on the canon.
+
+And he took a step toward Dom Diego, who recoiled from him with an
+expression of pain.
+
+"My lord canon, look at me well."
+
+"I--I--am looking at you," stammered Dom Diego, "but--"
+
+"My lord canon, my face shall pursue you everywhere, in your sleep and
+in your waking hours! You shall see me always before you, with my cotton
+cap and white jacket, like a terrible and fantastic apparition."
+
+"Ah, my God! it is all up with me!" murmured the canon, terrified. "My
+presentiments did not deceive me; this appetite was too miraculous,
+these dishes, these wines, too supernatural not to have some awful
+mystery, some infernal magic in them."
+
+Just at this critical moment the canon fortunately saw his majordomo
+enter.
+
+"My lord," said Pablo, "the lawyer has just arrived; you know the lawyer
+who--"
+
+"Pablo, stop there!" cried Dom Diego, seizing his majordomo by the arm
+and drawing him near to himself. "Do not leave me."
+
+"My God, sir! what is the matter?" said Pablo. "You seem to be
+frightened."
+
+"Ah, Pablo, if you only knew," said Dom Diego, in a low, whining voice,
+without daring to turn his eyes away from the cook.
+
+"My lord," replied Pablo, "I told you the lawyer had arrived."
+
+"What lawyer, Pablo?"
+
+"The one who comes to draw up in legal form your demand for the arrest
+of Captain Horace, guilty of the abduction of Senora Dolores."
+
+"Pablo, it is impossible to occupy myself now with business. I have no
+head--I must be dreaming. Ah, if you only knew what had happened! This
+cook--oh, my presentiments!"
+
+"Then, my lord, I am going to send the lawyer away."
+
+"No!" cried the canon, "no, it is this miserable Captain Horace who is
+the cause of all my ills. If he had not destroyed my appetite, I should
+have already breakfasted this morning when this tempter in a white
+jacket introduced himself here, and I would not have been the victim of
+his sorcery. No," added Dom Diego, in a paroxysm of anger, "tell this
+lawyer to wait; he shall write my complaint this very hour. But first
+let me get out of this awful perplexity," added he, throwing a
+frightened glance at the silent and formidable cook. "I must know what
+this mysterious being wants of me to terrify me so. Tell the lawyer to
+enter my study, and do not leave me, Pablo."
+
+The majordomo went to say a few words outside of the door to the lawyer,
+who entered an adjacent room, and the canon, the majordomo, and the cook
+remained alone.
+
+Dom Diego, encouraged by the presence of Pablo, tried to reassure
+himself, and said to the man in the white jacket, who still preserved
+his unruffled and sardonic demeanour:
+
+"See, my good friend, let us talk seriously. It is neither a question of
+good or of bad angels, but of a man who possesses tremendous talent,--I
+am speaking of you,--whom I would like to attach to my household at
+whatever price it may cost. We were discussing the cellar of divine
+wines, for the acquisition of which I would esteem no sacrifice too
+much. I speak to you with all the sincerity of my soul, my dear and good
+friend; reply to me in the same way."
+
+Then the canon whispered to his majordomo:
+
+"Pablo, do you stand between him and me."
+
+"Then," replied the cook, "I will speak to you with equal sincerity, my
+lord canon, and first, let me repeat, I will be the desolation, the
+despair of your life."
+
+"You?"
+
+"I."
+
+"Pablo, do you hear him? What have I done to him? My God!" murmured Dom
+Diego, "what grudge has he?"
+
+"Remember well my words, my lord canon. In comparison with the
+marvellous repast I have served you, the best dishes will seem insipid,
+the best wines bitter, and your appetite, awakened a moment by my power,
+will be again destroyed when I am no longer there to resurrect it."
+
+"But, my friend," cried the canon, "you are thinking then of--"
+
+The man in the cotton cap and white jacket again interrupted the canon
+and said:
+
+"In recalling the delicacies which I have made you enjoy a moment, you
+will be like the fallen angels, who recall the celestial joys of
+paradise only to regret them in the midst of lamentation and gnashing of
+teeth."
+
+"My good friend, I pray you one word!"
+
+"You will gnash your teeth, canon!" cried the cook, in a solemn voice,
+which sounded in the depths of Dom Diego's soul like the blast of the
+trumpet of the last judgment. "You will be as a soul,--no, you have no
+soul, you will be like a stomach, scenting, hunting, touching all the
+choicest dishes that can be served, and crying with terrible groanings
+as you recall this morning's breakfast: 'Alas! alas! my appetite has
+passed like a shadow; those exquisite dishes I will taste no more! alas!
+alas!' Then in your despair you will become lean,--do you hear me,
+canon?--you will become lean."
+
+"Great God! Pablo, what is this wretched man saying?"
+
+"Until the present, in spite of your loss of appetite, you have lived
+upon your fat, like rats in winter, but henceforth you will suffer the
+double and terrible blow of the loss of appetite and the ceaseless
+regrets that I will leave to you. You will become lean, canon, yes, your
+cheeks will be flabby, your triple chin will melt like wax in the sun,
+your enormous stomach will become flat like a leather bottle exhausted
+of its contents, your complexion, so radiant to-day, will grow yellow
+under the constant flow of your tears, and you will become lean,
+scraggy, and livid as an anchorite living on roots and water,--do you
+hear, canon?"
+
+"Pablo," murmured Dom Diego, shutting his eyes, and leaning on his
+majordomo, "support me. I feel as if I were struck with death. It seems
+to me I see my own ghost, such as this demon portrays. Yes, Pablo, I see
+myself lean, scraggy, livid. Oh, my God! it is frightful! it is
+horrible! It is the divine punishment for my sin of gluttony."
+
+"My lord, calm yourself," said the majordomo.
+
+And addressing the cook with mingled fear and anger, he said:
+
+"Do you undertake to tyrannise over such an excellent and venerable a
+man as the Lord Dom Diego?"
+
+"And now," continued the cook, pitilessly, "farewell, canon, farewell
+for ever."
+
+"Farewell, farewell for ever," cried Dom Diego, with a violent start, as
+if he had received an electric shock. "What! can it be true? you will
+abandon me for ever. Oh, no, no, I see all now: in making me regret your
+loss so deeply, you wish to put your services at a higher price. Well,
+then, speak, how much must you have?"
+
+"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" shouted the man with the cotton cap and white jacket,
+bursting into Mephistophelian laughter, and walking slowly toward the
+door.
+
+"No, no," cried the canon, clasping his hands; "no, you will not abandon
+me thus,--it would be atrocious, it would be savage, it would be to
+leave an unfortunate traveller in the middle of a burning desert, after
+having given him the delight of an oasis full of shade and freshness."
+
+"You ought to have been a great preacher in your time, canon," said the
+man in the white jacket, continuing his march toward the door.
+
+"Mercy, mercy!" cried Dom Diego, in a voice choked with tears. "Ah,
+indeed, it is no longer the artist, the cook of genius with whom I
+plead; it is the man,--it is to one like myself that I bend the
+knee,--oh, see me, and beseech him not to leave a brother in hopeless
+woe."
+
+"Yes, and see me at your knees, too, my lord cook!" cried the worthy
+majordomo, excited by the emotion of his master, and like him, falling
+on his knees; "a very humble poor creature joins his prayer to that of
+the Lord Dom Diego. Alas! do not abandon him, he will die!"
+
+"Yes," replied the cook, with a Satanic burst of laughter, "he will die,
+and he will die lean."
+
+The last sarcasm changed the despair of Dom Diego to fury. He rose
+quickly, and, notwithstanding his obesity, threw himself upon the cook,
+crying:
+
+"Come to me, Pablo; the monster shall not cook for anybody, his death
+only can deliver me from his infernal persecution!"
+
+"My lord," cried the majordomo, less excited than his master, "what are
+you doing? Grief makes you wild."
+
+Fortunately, the man in the white jacket, at the first aggressive
+movement of Dom Diego, recoiled two steps, and put himself in a
+defensive attitude by means of a large kitchen knife which he brandished
+in one hand, while in the other he held a sharp larding-pin.
+
+At the sight of the formidable knife and larding-pin, drawn like a
+dagger, the murderous exasperation of the canon was dispelled; but the
+violence of his emotions, the heat of his blood, and the state of his
+digestion produced such a revolution that he tottered and fell
+unconscious in the arms of the majordomo, who, too weak to sustain such
+a weight, himself sank to the floor, screaming with all his strength:
+
+"Help! help!"
+
+Then the man in the white jacket disappeared, with a last resounding
+burst of laughter which would have done honour to Satan himself, and
+terrified the majordomo almost to death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Many days had elapsed since the canon, Dom Diego, had been so
+mercilessly abandoned by the strange and inimitable cook of whom we have
+spoken.
+
+In the home of the Abbe Ledoux, the following scene occurred between him
+and the canon.
+
+The threatening predictions of the great cook were beginning to be
+realised. Dom Diego, pale, dejected, with a complexion yellowed by
+abstinence,--for all dishes seemed to him tasteless and nauseating since
+the marvellous breakfast of which he constantly dreamed,--would scarcely
+have been recognised. His enormous stomach had already lost its
+rotundity, and the poor man, whose physiognomy and attitude betrayed
+abject misery, responded in a mournful tone to the questions of the
+abbe, who, walking up and down the parlour in the greatest agitation,
+addressed him in a rude and angry tone:
+
+"In truth, you have not the least energy, Dom Diego; you have fallen
+into a desperate state of apathy."
+
+"That is easy for you to say," murmured the canon, in a grieved tone. "I
+would like very much to see you in my place, alas!"
+
+"Oh, come now, this is shameful!"
+
+"Abuse me, abbe, curse me; but what do you want? Since this accursed man
+has abandoned me I live no longer, I eat no longer, I sleep no longer!
+Ah, he well said, 'My memory and my face will pursue you everywhere,
+canon!' In fact, I am always thinking of the Guinea fowl eggs, the
+trout, and the roast a la Sardanapalus. And he, I see him always and
+everywhere in his white jacket and cotton cap. It is like a
+hallucination. To-night, even, yielding myself to a feverish, nervous
+slumber, I dreamed of this demon."
+
+"Better and better, canon."
+
+"What a nightmare! My God! what a horrible nightmare! He had served me
+with one of those exquisite, divine dishes, which he alone has the
+genius to produce, and he said to me, with his sardonic air, 'Eat,
+canon, eat.' It was, I recollect,--I see it still,--a delicious
+reed-bird with orange sauce. I had a devouring appetite; I took my knife
+and fork to carve the adorable little bird; I was carving it into
+slices, golden outside and rosy within, and veined with such fine,
+delicate fat. A thousand little drops of rosy juice appeared on the
+flesh, like so many drops of dew, to such a point was it roasted. I
+steeped it in several spoonfuls of orange sauce whose flavour tickled my
+palate, before I tasted it. I took on the end of my fork a royal
+mouthful; I opened my mouth. Suddenly the ferocious laughter of my
+executioner resounded, and horror! I had on the end of my fork only a
+great piece of rancid, glutinous, infected yellow bacon. 'Eat, canon,
+why do you not eat?' repeated this accursed man, in his strident voice.
+'Why do you not eat?' And in spite of myself, in spite of my terrible
+repugnance, I ate! Yes, abbe, I ate this disgusting bacon. Oh, when I
+think of it,--bah! it was horrible. And I awoke, bathed in tears. Night
+before last another odious dream. It was about eel-pout livers, and--"
+
+"Go to the devil, canon!" cried the abbe, already provoked by this
+recital of Dom Diego's gastronomic nightmare, "you are enough to damn a
+saint with your maudlin prattle."
+
+"Prattle!" cried the canon, in despair. "What! here for eight days I
+have been able to swallow only a few spoonfuls of chocolate,--so faint,
+so disheartened am I. What! I have had the fortitude to pass two hours
+seated in the museums of Chevet and Bontoux, those famous cooks, hoping
+that perhaps the sight of their rare collections of comestibles would
+excite in me some desire of appetite,--and nothing, nothing. No, the
+recollection of that celestial breakfast was there, always there,
+annihilating everything by the sole power of a cherished memory. Ah,
+abbe, abbe, I have never loved, but since these three days I comprehend
+all that is exclusive in love; I comprehend how a man passionately in
+love remains indifferent to the sight of the most beautiful creature in
+the world, dreaming, alas!--three times alas!--only of the adored object
+which he regrets."
+
+"But, canon," said the abbe, looking at Dom Diego with anxiety, "do you
+know that all this will result in delirium--in insanity?"
+
+"Eh, my God! I know it well, abbe, I am losing my head. This cursed
+seducer has carried away my life and thought with him. In the street, I
+gaze into the faces of all who pass, in the hope of meeting him. Great
+God! if this good luck would only happen! Oh, he would not be insensible
+to my prayers. 'Cruel, perfidious man,' I would say, 'look at me. See on
+my features the mark of my sufferings! Will you be without pity? No, no;
+mercy, mercy!'"
+
+And the canon, falling back in his armchair, covered his face with his
+hands and burst into sobs.
+
+"My God! my God! how wretched I am!" he cried.
+
+"What a double brute! He will be a fool, if he is not one already," said
+the abbe to himself. "I will not complain of it, because, his insanity
+once established, he will not leave our house, and whether it is he or
+his niece little matters."
+
+The abbe approached the canon with compunction, and said to him, gently:
+
+"Come, my brother, be reasonable, calm yourself, perhaps we ought to
+see in what has happened the punishment of Heaven."
+
+"I think with you, abbe, this tempter came from hell. It is not given to
+any human being to be such a cook. Ah, abbe, I must be a great sinner,
+for my punishment is terrible!"
+
+"You have indeed surrendered yourself, without measure, without
+restraint, to one of the foulest of the capital sins,--gluttony, my dear
+brother,--and I repeat to you Heaven punishes you, as is its law, in the
+very thing by which you have sinned."
+
+"But after all, what is my crime? I have simply used the admirable gifts
+of the Creator, for in fact it is not I who, in order to enjoy them,
+have created pheasants, ortolans, fat livers, salmon trout, truffles,
+oysters, lobsters, wines, and--"
+
+"My brother, my brother!" cried the abbe, interrupting this appetising
+enumeration, "your words savour of materialism, pantheism, heresy! You
+are not in a state of mind to listen to me as I refute these impious,
+abominable systems which lead directly to paganism. But there is one
+indisputable fact, which is, that you suffer, my brother, you suffer
+cruelly; it is for us to bind up your wounds, my tender brother, it is
+for us to comfort them with balm and honey."
+
+At these words the canon made an involuntary grimace, because, in his
+gastronomic monomania, the idea of honey and balm was especially
+distasteful.
+
+The abbe continued:
+
+"Let us see, my dear brother, let us return to the cause of all your
+ills."
+
+"Alas! abbe, it is the loss of my appetite."
+
+"Be it so, my brother, and who has caused the loss of your appetite?"
+
+"That wretch!" cried the canon, irritated, "that infamous Captain
+Horace."
+
+"That is true; well, I will always preach to you the forgiveness of
+injuries, my dear brother; but, too, I must recommend to you an
+inexorable severity against sacrilege."
+
+"What sacrilege, abbe?"
+
+"Have not Captain Horace and one of his sailors dared to leap over the
+sacred walls of the convent where you had shut up your niece? Have they
+not had the audacity to carry away the miserable girl, whom happily we
+have recaptured? This enormity in other times might have been punished
+with fire, and one day it will be punished with eternal fire."
+
+"And this villain of a captain will only have what he deserves," cried
+Dom Diego, ferociously; "yes, he will cook--he will roast on Satan's
+spit by a slow fire, all eternity, where he will be moistened with gravy
+of melted lead, after having been larded with red-hot iron. Such will be
+his punishment, I earnestly hope."
+
+"So may it be, but while waiting this eternal expiation, why not punish
+him here below? Why have you had the culpable weakness to give up your
+demand for the arrest of this miscreant? I need not remind you that this
+man is the first cause of all that you call your ills,--that is, the
+loss of your appetite."
+
+"That is true, he is a great criminal."
+
+"Then, my brother, why, I ask again, have you been so weak as to
+renounce your pursuit of him? You do not reply, you seem to be
+embarrassed."
+
+"It is that--"
+
+"It is what?"
+
+"Alas, abbe, you are going to scold me, to lecture me again."
+
+"Explain yourself, my brother."
+
+"What shall I say? It is his fault, for, since he has disappeared, all
+my thoughts come from him and return to him."
+
+"Who, he?"
+
+"This angel or this demon."
+
+"What angel--what demon?"
+
+"The cook."
+
+"Again the cook?"
+
+"Always!"
+
+"Come," said the abbe, shrugging his shoulders, "do explain yourself, my
+brother."
+
+"Well, then, abbe, know that the day after the fatal day when I
+breakfasted as I shall never breakfast again, alas! when my despair was
+at its height, I received a mysterious note."
+
+"And what did this contain, my brother?"
+
+"Here it is."
+
+"You have kept it."
+
+"It is perhaps his cherished handwriting," murmured the canon, with a
+melancholy accent.
+
+And he handed the note to Abbe Ledoux, who read as follows:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MY LORD CANON:--There remains perhaps one means of seeing me again.
+
+"You now know the delights with which I am able to surfeit you.
+
+"You also know the terrible torments which my absence inflicts.
+
+"Before yesterday, not having felt these torments in all their anguish,
+you presumed to refuse what I expected of you.
+
+"To-day, as past sufferings will be a guarantee for the sufferings to
+come, listen to me.
+
+"You can put an end to these sufferings.
+
+"For that, you must grant me three things.
+
+"I demand the first to-day; in eight days the second; in fifteen days
+the third.
+
+"I proportion the importance of my demands to the progress of your
+suffering, because the more you suffer, the more you will regret me and
+show yourself docile.
+
+"Here is my first demand:
+
+"Send back by the bearer of this note, your nonsuit of all complaint
+against Captain Horace.
+
+"Give me by this act a proof of your desire to satisfy me, and then you
+will be able to hope that you may find again
+
+APPETITE."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+When Abbe Ledoux had finished reading this note, he reflected a moment
+in silence, while the canon, repeating the last words of the letter,
+said, bitterly:
+
+"'And you will be able to hope to find Appetite!' What cruel irony in
+this pitiless pun!"
+
+"That is singular," said the abbe, thoughtfully. "Did you see the bearer
+of this note, Dom Diego?"
+
+"Did I see him? Could I lose this opportunity to speak of _him?"_
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Ah, well, one would have thought I was speaking Hebrew to this animal.
+To my most pressing questions, he responded with a stupid air. I was not
+able to draw from him either the address or the name of the person who
+had sent me the note."
+
+"And so, canon, it is in obedience to this letter that you have
+renounced your complaint against this renegade Captain Horace."
+
+"Yes, because I hoped, by my deference to the desires of him who holds
+my life in his hands, to soften his heart of stone, but alas! this
+concession has not touched him."
+
+"But what relations can exist between this accursed cook and Captain
+Horace?" said Abbe Ledoux, still absorbed in thought. "Some intrigue is
+hidden there."
+
+Then after another silence he added:
+
+"Dom Diego, listen to me; I will not tell you to abandon the hope that
+some day you may have in your service this cook whom you prize so
+highly. I shall not insist upon the dangers which threaten your eternal
+salvation in consequence of your persistent and abominable gluttony; you
+are at this moment in such a state of excitement that you would not
+comprehend it."
+
+"I fear so, abbe"
+
+"I am sure of it, canon. I will deal then with you as we deal, permit me
+to say it, with monomaniacs. I will for the present put myself in your
+place, extraordinary as it may seem, and I must tell you that you have
+done exactly the contrary of what you ought to have done, if you wish to
+gain power over this man, who, as you say, controls your destiny."
+
+"Explain yourself, my dear abbe."
+
+"After all you have confided to me, evidently this cook has no need of a
+position; having learned of your favourite vice, he has only sought a
+pretext for introducing himself into your house; his connivance with
+Captain Horace only proves, do you not see, that their plan was arranged
+beforehand, and they proposed to use your love of eating as a means of
+gaining influence over you."
+
+"Great God!" cried Dom Diego, "that is a ray of light!"
+
+"Do you confess your blindness now?"
+
+"What an infernal plot! What atrocious Machiavellism!" murmured the
+canon, thoroughly frightened.
+
+Then he added, with a sigh of dejection, full of bitterness:
+
+"Such dissimulation! Such perfidy united to such beautiful genius! Oh,
+humanity! Oh, humanity!"
+
+"Let me continue," replied the abbe. "You have already, by your unworthy
+weakness, deprived yourself of one of the three means by which you might
+have controlled this great cook, since, as he has had the effrontery to
+warn you beforehand, there are yet two others he intends to exact from
+you, and he counts on your deplorable readiness to yield, to obtain
+them. Now, this end once attained, he will laugh at you, and you will
+see him no more."
+
+"Abbe, that is impossible."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I tell you, abbe, such treason is impossible. You surely do not believe
+that men are ferocious beasts,--monsters."
+
+"I believe, canon," replied the abbe, with a shrug of the shoulders, "I
+believe that a cook who gives gratis wines at one or two louis a
+bottle--"
+
+"Wait, pray," interrupted Dom Diego. "Neither one, nor two, nor six
+louis would pay the cost of such wines. They were nectar, abbe, they
+were ambrosia, I tell you!"
+
+"All the more reason, canon; a cook who is so prodigal of such costly
+ambrosia has no need of hiring himself for wages, I imagine."
+
+"I not only offered him wages, I offered him, also, my
+friendship,--think of it, abbe, I said to this perfidious monster,
+'Friend, I will not be your master, I will be your admirer.'"
+
+"You see that he cared as little for your friendship as for your
+admiration."
+
+"Ah, that would be an ingrate, indeed!"
+
+"That may be; but if you wish, in your turn, to put this ingrate at your
+feet, there is a way for you to do so."
+
+"To put him at my feet! Oh, abbe, if you could work this miracle! but,
+no, no, you are without pity, you play upon my credulity."
+
+"The miracle is very simple; refuse absolutely all that this man demands
+of you, because if he has no need of your friendship or your admiration,
+he has evidently great need of your leaving off your suit against this
+Captain Horace. Refuse that, and you will hold your man. I do not know
+for how long a time you will hold him, but you will hold him. We will
+see afterward how to prolong your power. I am, you see, a man of wise
+counsel."
+
+"Abbe, you open my eyes, you are right; in refusing his demands, I shall
+force him to return to me."
+
+"Well, do you agree to it?"
+
+"I was blind, silly! But what do you want, abbe? Despair, inanition! The
+stomach reacts so terribly on the brain. Ah, why was I so weak as to
+sign this nonsuit?"
+
+"It is time to recall it."
+
+"You think so, abbe?"
+
+"I am certain of it. I know persons who are very influential with the
+magistracy."
+
+"What an opportunity, abbe, what an opportunity!"
+
+"We have friends everywhere. Now, listen to what is necessary for you to
+do. You go at once and present your complaint in legal form; we will
+attest it immediately at the bar of the king's attorney. We will say to
+him that the other day when you were in a condition of suffering and
+wholly irresponsible, you signed the nonsuit, but reflecting upon the
+sacrilegious crime of Captain Horace, you would fail in your double
+character of canon and guardian if you did not deliver this criminal to
+the rigour of the law. Begin by this act of decision and you will soon
+see this insolent cook, who dictates his orders to you, humble and
+submissive to your will."
+
+"Abbe, dear abbe, you have saved my life."
+
+"Wait, that is not all. This mysterious unknown, who interests himself
+so much in Captain Horace, must also interest himself in the captain's
+marriage with your niece. Evidently this intrigue concerns that,
+because, understand me, I wager a hundred to one that one of the two
+things which this impertinent cook reserves to ask of you is your
+consent to this marriage."
+
+"What a depth of villainy!" cried the canon. "What diabolical plotting!
+There is no longer room for doubt, abbe, such was the plan of this
+miserable creature. Oh, if in my turn I could only get him in my power!"
+
+"The way is very easy, and whatever may be the cause of it, after the
+various ramifications of this dark intrigue, of which your niece is the
+end, you must see that there would be grave dangers in leaving her in
+Paris, and whatever course you may take in regard to this--"
+
+"She shall enter a convent," interrupted the canon, "that is my
+intention at all hazards; she has already caused me enough worry, enough
+care. I do not like to play the role of a guardian in a comedy."
+
+"Your niece, then, will enter a convent; but to leave her in Paris is to
+expose her to the plotting of Captain Horace and his friends, and you
+know their audacity. Perhaps they will abduct her a second time. Imagine
+what new sorrow that would bring to you."
+
+"But where shall I send this accursed girl?"
+
+"Let her depart for Lyons to-day, even; we have an excellent house in
+that city, once entered there it would be impossible for her to
+communicate with the outside. Now, see what we are going to do. The
+first thing is to go at once to the Palais de Justice; there I shall
+find an influential person who will recommend me to the king's attorney,
+in whose hands you will lodge your complaint. After that we will hasten
+to the convent; among the livery hacks there is always a carriage ready
+for an emergency; one of our sisters and a steady and resolute man will
+accompany your niece; you will give your orders to them; in two hours
+she will be on the route to Lyons, and before the end of the day Captain
+Horace will be locked in jail, because, as he believes your complaint is
+withdrawn, he will come out of the retreat which we have not been able
+to discover. Once this miscreant arrested, and your niece out of Paris,
+you will see my Lord Appetite run to you, and with a little address--I
+will help you if you wish it--you will have him at your mercy, and can
+do with him as you please."
+
+"Dear abbe, you are my saviour!" cried the canon, rising from his seat,
+his face radiant with hope. "You are a superior man; Father Benoit told
+me so in Cadiz. Let us go, let us go. I abandon myself blindly to your
+counsels; everything tells me they are excellent, and that they will
+place him, who is an angel and a demon to me, in my power for ever."
+
+"Let us go, then, my dear Dom Diego," said the abbe, hastily putting on
+his hat, and dragging the canon by the arm.
+
+The moment the canon opened the door of the parlour, he found himself
+face to face with Doctor Gasterini, who familiarly entered the saintly
+man's house without announcement.
+
+The abbe was just going to address a word to the doctor, when at a cry
+from the canon he turned abruptly and saw Dom Diego, pale, motionless,
+his gaze fixed, and his hands clasped, and his face expressing all the
+contradictions of stupor, doubt, anguish, and hope. Finally, addressing
+the abbe, who comprehended nothing of this sudden emotion, the canon
+pointed to the doctor and stammered, in a broken voice, "It--is--he."
+
+But Dom Diego was not able to say more, and overcome by emotion he sat
+down heavily in a chair, closed his eyes, and fell over in utter
+weakness.
+
+"The devil! the canon here!" said Doctor Gasterini to himself. "Cursed
+accident!"
+
+Abbe Ledoux, at the sight of Dom Diego's collapse,--a pathetic
+picture,--turned to the doctor, and said:
+
+"I think, really, the canon must be ill. What is the matter with him?
+Your arrival is fortunate, my dear doctor; wait,--here is a vial of
+salts, it will assist his breathing."
+
+Hardly was the bottle placed to the nostrils of the canon when he
+sneezed violently, with a cavernous bellowing, then coming out of his
+fainting fit, but not having the strength to rise, he turned his languid
+eyes, suffused with tears, to the doctor, and said, with an accent which
+he wished to be stern, but which was only tender:
+
+"Ah, cruel man!"
+
+"Cruel!" said the abbe, bewildered, "why do you call the doctor cruel,
+Dom Diego?"
+
+"Yes," interposed the physician, perfectly calm and smiling, "what
+cruelty can you accuse me of, sir?"
+
+"You ask that, you ingrate!" said the canon. "You dare ask that!"
+
+"What! you call the doctor an ingrate!" said the abbe.
+
+"The doctor!" said the canon, "what doctor?"
+
+"Why, my friend, the man to whom you are speaking," said the abbe, "my
+friend standing there, Doctor Gasterini."
+
+"He!" cried the canon, rising abruptly. "I tell you that is my tempter,
+my seducer!"
+
+"The devil! he sees him everywhere," said the abbe, impatiently. "I
+repeat it to you that the gentleman is Doctor Gasterini, my friend."
+
+"And I repeat to you, abbe," cried Dom Diego, "that the gentleman is the
+great cook of whom I have spoken to you!"
+
+"Doctor," said the abbe, earnestly, "in the name of Heaven, do explain
+this blunder."
+
+"There is no blunder at all, my dear abbe."
+
+"What?"
+
+"The canon speaks the truth," replied Doctor Gasterini. "Day before
+yesterday I had the pleasure of preparing a dish for him; for, in order
+to have the honour of calling yourself a glutton, you must have a
+practical acquaintance with the culinary art."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The abbe, amazed, looked at Doctor Gasterini, unable to believe what he
+had heard; at last he said:
+
+"What! you, doctor, have cooked dishes for Dom Diego? You! you?"
+
+"Yes, I, my dear abbe."
+
+"A doctor," exclaimed the canon, in his turn amazed, "a physician?"
+
+"Yes, canon," replied Doctor Gasterini, "I am a physician, which does
+not prevent my being a passable cook."
+
+"Passable!" cried the canon, "say rather, divine! But what means this--"
+
+"I comprehend all!" replied Abbe Ledoux, after having remained silent
+and thoughtful a moment, "the plot was skilfully contrived."
+
+"What is it that you comprehend, abbe? Of what plot are you talking?"
+said the canon, who, after his first astonishment, began to wonder how a
+physician could be such an extraordinary cook. "I pray you explain
+yourself, abbe!"
+
+"Do you know, Dom Diego," asked the abbe, with a bitter smile, "who
+Doctor Gasterini is?"
+
+"But," stammered the canon, wiping the perspiration from his brow, for
+he had been making superhuman efforts to penetrate the mystery,
+"everything is so complicated--so strange--that--"
+
+"Doctor Gasterini," cried the abbe, "is the uncle of Captain Horace! Do
+you understand now, Dom Diego, the diabolical trick the doctor has
+played you? Do you understand that he has played upon your deplorable
+gluttony in order to get such a hold on you that he might induce you to
+abandon your pursuit of Captain Horace, his nephew, and afterward to
+induce you to consent to the marriage of your niece and the captain? Do
+you understand at last to what point you have been duped? Do you see the
+depth of the abyss you have escaped?"
+
+"My God! this great cook a doctor! And he is the uncle of Captain
+Horace!" murmured the canon, stunned by the revelation. "He is not a
+real cook! Oh, illusion of illusions!"
+
+The doctor remained silent and imperturbable.
+
+"Hey, have you been duped enough?" asked the abbe. "Have you played a
+sufficiently ridiculous role? And do you now believe that the
+illustrious Doctor Gasterini, one of the princes of science, who has
+fifty thousand a year income, would hire himself to you as a cook? Was I
+wrong in saying that you had been made a scoff and jeer for other
+persons' amusement?"
+
+Every word from the abbe exasperated the anger, the grief, and the
+despair of the canon. The last remark above all. "Do you think the
+celebrated Doctor Gasterini would hire himself for wages," gave a mortal
+blow to the last illusions that Dom Diego cherished. Turning to the
+doctor, he said, with an ill-concealed anger:
+
+"Ah, sir, do you recollect the evil you have done me? I may die of it,
+perhaps, but I will have my revenge, if not on you, at least on that
+rascal, your nephew, and on my unworthy niece, who, no doubt, is also in
+this abominable intrigue!"
+
+"Well, courage, Dom Diego; this righteous vengeance will not tarry,"
+said Abbe Ledoux.
+
+Then he turned to the doctor, and said, sarcastically:
+
+"Ah, doctor, you are doubtless a very shrewd, clever man, but you know
+the best players sometimes lose the best games, and you will lose this
+one!"
+
+"Perhaps," said the doctor, smiling; "who knows?"
+
+"Come, my dear abbe, come," cried the canon, pale and exasperated;
+"come, let us see the king's attorney, and then we will hasten the
+departure of my niece."
+
+And, turning to the doctor, he said:
+
+"To employ arms so perfidious, so disloyal! to deceive a confiding and
+inoffensive man with this odious Machiavellism! I who have eaten with my
+eyes shut, I who have taken delight upon the very brink of an abyss! Ah,
+sir, it is abominable, but I will have my revenge!"
+
+"And this very instant," said the abbe. "Come, Dom Diego, follow me. A
+thousand pardons, my dear doctor, to leave you so abruptly, but you
+understand moments are precious."
+
+The canon, boiling with rage, was about to follow the abbe when Doctor
+Gasterini said, in a calm voice:
+
+"Canon, a word if you please."
+
+"If you listen to him, you are lost, Dom Diego!" cried the abbe,
+dragging the canon with him. "The evil spirit himself is not more
+insidious than this infernal doctor. Decide for yourself after the trick
+he has played on you. Come, come!"
+
+"Canon," said the doctor, seizing Dom Diego by the right sleeve, while
+the abbe, who held the worthy man by the left sleeve, was using every
+effort to force him to follow him. "Canon," repeated the doctor, "just
+one word, I pray you."
+
+"No, no!" said the abbe, "let us flee, Dom Diego, let us flee this
+serpent tempter."
+
+And the abbe continued to pull the canon by his right sleeve.
+
+"Just a word," said the physician, "and you will see how much this dear
+abbe deceives you in my place."
+
+"The Abbe Ledoux deceives me in your place! That is too much by far!"
+cried Dom Diego. "How, sir, do you dare?"
+
+"I am going to prove to you what I say, canon," said the doctor,
+earnestly, as he saw Dom Diego make an effort to approach him. The
+abbe, suspecting the canon's weakness, pulled him violently, and said:
+
+"Recollect, unhappy man, that your mother Eve was lost by listening to
+the first word of Satan. I adjure you, I command you, to follow me this
+instant! If you give way, unhappy man, take care! One second more, and
+it is all up with you. Let us go, let us go!"
+
+"Yes, yes, you are my saviour, take me away from here," stammered the
+canon, disengaging himself from the grasp of the doctor. "In spite of
+myself, I am already yielding to the incomprehensible influence of this
+demon. I recall those Guinea fowl eggs with crab gravy, that trout with
+frozen Montpellier butter, that celestial roast a la Sardanapalus, and
+already a dim hope--let us fly, abbe, it is time, let us fly."
+
+"Canon," said the doctor, holding on to the arm of Dom Diego with all
+his strength, "listen to me, I pray you."
+
+"_Vade retro, Satanas!_" cried Dom Diego, with horror, escaping from the
+doctor's hands.
+
+And dragged along by the abbe, he was on the threshold of the door, when
+the physician cried:
+
+"I will cook for you as much as you desire, and as long as I shall live,
+Dom Diego. Grant me five minutes, and I will prove what I declare. Five
+minutes, what do you risk?"
+
+At the magic words, "I will cook for you as much as you desire," the
+canon seemed nailed to the door-sill, and did not advance a step, in
+spite of the efforts of the abbe, who was too exhausted to struggle
+against the weight of such a large man.
+
+"You certainly are stupid!" cried the abbe, losing control of himself,
+"what a fool you are to have any dealings with him!"
+
+"Grant me five minutes, Dom Diego," urged the doctor, "and, if I do not
+convince you of the reality of my promises, then give free course to
+your vengeance. I repeat, what do you risk? I only ask a poor five
+minutes."
+
+"In fact," said the canon, turning to the abbe, "what would I risk?"
+
+"Go, you risk nothing!" cried the abbe, pushed to the extreme by the
+weakness of the canon; "from this moment you are lost, a scoff and a
+jeer. Go, go, throw yourself into the jaws of this monster, thrice dull
+brute that you are!"
+
+These unfortunate words, uttered by the abbe in anger, wounded the pride
+of Dom Diego to the quick, and he replied, with an offended air:
+
+"At least, I will not be brute enough, Abbe Ledoux, to hesitate between
+the loss of five minutes, and the ruin of my hopes, as weak as they may
+be."
+
+"As you please, Dom Diego," replied the abbe, gnawing his nails with
+anger; "you are a good, greasy dupe to experiment upon. Really, I am
+ashamed of having pitied you."
+
+"Not such a dupe, Abbe Ledoux, not such a dupe as you may suppose," said
+the canon, in a self-sufficient tone. "You are going to discover, and
+the doctor, too, for no doubt he is going to explain himself."
+
+"At once," eagerly replied the doctor, "at once, my lord canon, and very
+clearly too, very categorically."
+
+"Let us see," said Dom Diego, swelling cheeks with an important air.
+"You discover, sir, that I have now powerful reasons for not allowing
+myself to be satisfied with chimeras, because, as the abbe has said, I
+would be a good, greasy dupe to permit you to deceive me, after so many
+cautions."
+
+"Oh, certainly," said the abbe, in his great indignation, "you are a
+proud man, canon, and quite capable of fighting this son of Beelzebub."
+
+"By which title you mean me, dear abbe," said the doctor, with sardonic
+courtesy. "What an ingrate you are! I come to remind you that you
+promised to dine with me to-day. Permit my lord canon, also,--he is not
+a stranger to our subject, as you will see."
+
+"Yes, doctor," said the abbe, "I did make you this promise, but--"
+
+"You will keep it, I do not doubt, and I will remind you, too, that this
+invitation was extended in consequence of a little discussion relative
+to the seven capital sins. Again, canon, I am in the question, and you
+are going to recognise it immediately."
+
+"It is true, doctor," replied the abbe, with a constrained smile, "I
+would brand, as they deserve to be, the seven capital sins, causes of
+eternal damnation to the miserable beings who abandon themselves to
+these abominable vices, and in your passion for paradoxes, you have
+dared maintain that--"
+
+"That the seven capital sins have good, in a certain point of view, in a
+certain measure, and gluttony, particularly, may be made an admirable
+passion."
+
+"Gluttony!" cried the canon, amazed. "Gluttony admirable!"
+
+"Admirable, my dear canon," replied the doctor, "and that, too, in the
+eyes of the wisest, and most sincerely religious men."
+
+"Gluttony!" repeated the canon, who had listened to the physician with
+increasing bewilderment, "gluttony!"
+
+"It is even more, my lord canon," said the doctor, solemnly, "because,
+for those who are to put it in practice, it becomes an imperious duty to
+humanity."
+
+"A duty to humanity!" repeated Dom Diego.
+
+"And, above all, a question of high civilisation and great policy, my
+lord canon," added the doctor, with an air so serious, so full of
+conviction, that he imposed on the canon, who cried:
+
+"Hold, doctor, if you could only demonstrate that--"
+
+"Do you not see that the doctor is making you ridiculous?" said the
+abbe, shrugging his shoulders. "Ah, I told you the truth, unhappy Dom
+Diego; you are lost, for ever lost, as soon as you consent to listen to
+such foolery."
+
+"Canon," the doctor hastened to add, "let us resume our subject, not by
+reasoning, which, I confess, may appear to you specious, but by facts,
+by acts, by proofs, and by figures. You are both a glutton and
+superstitious. You have not the strength to resist your craving for good
+things; then, your gluttony satisfied, you are afraid of having
+committed a great sin, which sometimes spoils the pleasure of good
+cheer, and above all, injures the calmness and regularity of your
+digestion. Is this not true?"
+
+"It is true," meekly replied the canon, dominated, fascinated by the
+doctor's words, "it is too true."
+
+"Well, my lord canon, I wish to convince you, I repeat, not by
+reasoning, however logical it may be, but by visible, palpable facts and
+by figures, first, that in being a glutton, you accomplish a mission
+highly philanthropic, a benefit to civilisation and politics; second,
+that I can, and will be able to make you eat and drink, when you wish,
+with far more intense enjoyment than the other day."
+
+"And I, I say to you," cried the abbe, appalled by the doctor's
+assurance, "that if you prove by facts and figures, as you pretend, that
+to be a glutton is to accomplish a mission to humanity or high
+civilisation, or is a thing of great political significance, I swear to
+you to become an adept in this philosophy, as absurd and visionary as it
+appears."
+
+"And if you prove to me, doctor, that you can open again, and in the
+future continue to open the doors of the culinary paradise that you
+opened to me day before yesterday," cried the canon, palpitating with
+new hope, "if you prove to me that I accomplish a social duty in
+yielding myself up to gluttony, you will be able to dominate me, I will
+be your deputy, your slave, your thing."
+
+"Agreed, my lord canon, agreed, Abbe Ledoux, you shall be satisfied. Let
+us depart."
+
+"Depart?" asked the canon, "where?"
+
+"To my house, Dom Diego."
+
+"To your house," said the canon, with an air of distrust, "to your
+house?"
+
+"My carriage is below," replied the doctor; "in a quarter of an hour we
+will arrive there."
+
+"But, doctor," asked the canon, "why go to your house? What are we going
+to do there?"
+
+"At my house, only, will you be able to find those visible, palpable
+proofs of what I have declared, for I have come to remind the dear abbe
+that to-day is the twentieth of November, the day of the investigation
+to which I have invited him. But the hour advances, gentlemen, let us
+depart."
+
+"I do not know if I am dreaming or awake," said Dom Diego, "but I throw
+myself in the gulf with my eyes shut."
+
+"You must be the very devil himself, doctor, for my instinct and reason
+revolt against your paradoxes. I do not believe one word of your
+promises, yet it is impossible for me to resist the curious desire to
+accompany you."
+
+The canon and the abbe followed the doctor, entered his carriage with
+him, and soon the three arrived at the house occupied by the
+distinguished physician.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Doctor Gasterini lived in a charming house in the Faubourg du Roule,
+where he soon arrived in company with the canon and Abbe Ledoux.
+
+"While we are waiting for dinner, would you like to take a turn in the
+garden?" said the doctor, to his guests. "That will give me the
+opportunity to present to you my poor sister's eight children, my
+nephews and nieces, whom I have reared and established in the world
+respectably, entirely by means of gluttony. You see, canon, we still
+follow our subject."
+
+"What, doctor!" replied the canon, "you have reared a numerous family by
+means of gluttony?"
+
+"You do not see that the doctor continues to ridicule you!" said the
+abbe, shrugging his shoulders. "It is too much by far!"
+
+"I give you my word of honour as an honest man," replied Doctor
+Gasterini, "and besides, I am going to prove to you in a moment, by
+facts, that if I had not been the greatest gourmand among men, I should
+never have known how to make for each one of my nephews and nieces the
+excellent positions which they hold, as worthy, honest, and intelligent
+labourers, contributing, each in his sphere, to the prosperity of the
+country."
+
+"So we are really to see people who contribute to the prosperity of the
+country, and for that we may thank the doctor's love of eating!" said
+the canon, with amazement.
+
+"No," cried the abbe, "what confounds me is to hear such absurdities
+maintained till the last moment, and--" but suddenly interrupting
+himself, he asked with surprise, as he looked around:
+
+"What is that building, doctor? It looks like shops."
+
+"That is my orangery," replied the doctor, "and to-day, as every year at
+this time, my birthday, they set up shops here."
+
+"How is that; set up shops, and what for?" asked the abbe.
+
+"Zounds! why, to sell, of course, my dear abbe."
+
+"Sell what? and who is to sell?"
+
+"As to what is sold, you will soon see, and as to the purchasers, why,
+they are my patrons, who are coming to spend the evening here."
+
+"Really, doctor, I do not comprehend you."
+
+"You know, my dear abbe, that for a long time charity shops have been
+kept by some of the prettiest women in Paris."
+
+"Ah, yes," replied the abbe; "the proceeds to be given to the poor."
+
+"This is the same; the proceeds of this evening's sale will be
+distributed among the poor of my district."
+
+"And who are to keep these shops?" asked the canon.
+
+"My sister's eight children, Dom Diego. They will sell there, for the
+charitable purpose I have mentioned, the produce of their own industry.
+But come, gentlemen, let us enter, and I shall have the honour of
+introducing to you my nieces and nephews."
+
+With these words Doctor Gasterini conducted his friends into a vast
+orangery, where were arranged eight little shops or stalls for the
+display of wares. The green boxes of a large number of gigantic
+orange-trees formed the railings and separations of these stalls, so
+that each one had a ceiling of beautiful foliage.
+
+"Ah, doctor," exclaimed the canon, stopping before the first stall in
+admiration, "this is magnificent! I have never seen anything like it in
+my life. It is magic!"
+
+"It is indeed a feast for the eye," said the abbe. "It is unsurpassed."
+
+Let us see what elicited the just admiration of Doctor Gasterini's
+guests. The boxes forming the enclosure of the first stall were
+ornamented with leaves and flowers; on each of these rustic platforms,
+covered with moss, a collection of fruits and early vegetables was
+displayed with rare beauty. Golden pineapples with crowns of green lay
+above immense baskets of grapes of every shade, from the dark purple
+cluster of the valley to the transparent red from the mountain
+vineyards. Pyramids of pears, and apples of the rarest and choicest
+species, of enormous size and variegated with the brightest colours,
+reached up to summits of bananas, as golden as if the sun of the tropics
+had ripened them. Farther on dwarf fig-trees in pots, and covered with
+violet-coloured figs, stood among a rare collection of autumn melons,
+Brazil pumpkins, and Spanish and white potatoes. Still farther, little
+rush baskets of hothouse strawberries contrasted with rosy mushrooms,
+and enormous truffles as black as ebony, obtained from the hotbed by
+special culture. Then came the rare and early specimens of the
+season,--green asparagus and varieties of lettuce.
+
+In the midst of these marvels of the vegetable kingdom, which she
+herself had grouped in such a charming and picturesque scene, stood a
+beautiful young woman, elegantly attired in the costume of the peasants
+living in the neighbourhood of Paris.
+
+"I present to you one of my nieces," said the doctor to his guests,
+"Juliette Dumont, cultivator of early fruits and vegetables, in the open
+field and hothouse at Montreuil-sous-Bois."
+
+Then, turning to the young woman, the doctor added:
+
+"My child, tell these gentlemen, please, how many gardeners you and your
+husband employ in your occupation."
+
+"At least twenty men the whole time, my dear uncle."
+
+"And their salary, my child."
+
+"According to your advice, dear uncle, we give them the fixed price of
+fifty cents, and a part of our profit, in order to interest them as much
+as we are in the excellence of the work. We find this arrangement the
+best in the world, for our gardeners, interested as much as ourselves in
+the prosperity of our undertaking, labour with great zeal. So this year,
+their part in the income of the establishment has almost amounted to
+five francs a day."
+
+"And about how much a year is the whole income, my child?"
+
+"Thanks to our nurseries of fine fruit-trees, we make, dear uncle, from
+eighty to a hundred thousand francs a year."
+
+"As much as that?" said the abbe.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the young woman; "and there are many houses in the
+neighbourhood of Paris and in the provinces whose incomes are larger
+than ours."
+
+The canon, absorbed in the contemplation of fragrant golden fruits,
+truffles, and mushrooms, and the first vegetables of the season as
+luscious as they were rare, gave only a distracted attention to the
+economics of the conversation, and reluctantly accepted the doctor's
+invitation, who said to him:
+
+"Let us pass to another specimen of the industry of my family, canon,
+for each one to-day displays his best wares. Now tell me if that jolly
+fellow over there is not a true artist."
+
+And with these words Doctor Gasterini pointed out the second stall to
+his guests.
+
+In the middle of an enclosure, carpeted with rushes and seaweeds, three
+large, white marble tables rose one above the other at an interval of
+one foot, gradually diminishing in size, like the basins of a fountain.
+On these marble slabs, covered with marine herbs, was a fine display of
+shells, crustaceans, and the choicest and most delicate sea-fish.
+
+On the first slab was a sort of grotto made of shell-work, in which
+could be seen mussels and oysters from Marennes, Ostend, and Cancale,
+fattened at an immense expense in the parks. At the base of this slab
+lobsters, shrimps, and crabs were slowly crawling, or putting out a
+feeler from under their thick shells.
+
+On the second slab, fringed with long seaweeds of a light green colour,
+were fish of the most diminutive size and exquisite flavour; sardines
+gleaming like silver, others of ultramarine blue, others still of bright
+red, and dainty grill fish with backs as white as snow, and
+rose-coloured bellies.
+
+Finally, on the last and largest of these marble basins lay, here and
+there, veritable monsters of the sea, enormous turbots, gigantic salmon,
+formidable sturgeons, and prodigious tunnies.
+
+A young man with sunburnt complexion, and frank, prepossessing
+countenance, who recalled the features of Captain Horace, smiled
+complaisantly at this magnificent exhibition of the products of the sea.
+
+"Gentlemen, I present to you my nephew Thomas, patron of fisheries at
+Etretat," said Doctor Gasterini to his guests, "and you see that his
+nets do not bring back sand alone."
+
+"I never saw anything in my life more admirable! I never saw more
+appetising fish!" exclaimed Dom Diego, with enthusiasm. "One could
+almost eat them raw!"
+
+"My boy," said Doctor Gasterini to his nephew, "these gentlemen would
+like to know how many sailors you patron fishers employ in your boats."
+
+"Each boat employs eight or ten men and a cabin-boy," replied patron
+Thomas. "You see, my dear uncle, that makes quite a fine array of men,
+when you think of the number of fishing-boats on the coasts of France,
+from Bayonne to Dunkerque, and from Perpignan to Cannes."
+
+"And what pay do these men get, my boy?" asked the doctor.
+
+"We buy boats and nets in common, and divide the produce of the fish,
+and when a sailor is carried away by a big wave, his widow and children
+succeed to the father's portion; in a word, we work in an association,
+all for each, and each for all, and I assure you that when it is
+necessary to throw our nets or draw them in, to furl a sail or give it
+to the winds, there is no idler among us. All work with a good heart."
+
+"Very well, my brave boy," said the doctor. "But, my lord canon," added
+he, turning to Dom Diego, "as a true gourmand, you shall taste scalloped
+salmon with truffles, and sole minced in the Venetian style. Here we
+promote one of the noblest industries of the country, and it also
+contributes to the amelioration of the condition of our marine service.
+Let this thought, canon, take possession of your mind when you eat
+sturgeon baked in its own liquor, flavoured highly with Bayonne ham and
+oyster sauce, mingled with Madeira wine!"
+
+At these words, Dom Diego opened mechanically his large mouth and shut
+it, passing his tongue over his lips, with a sigh of greedy desire.
+
+Abbe Ledoux, too discerning not to comprehend the doctor's intention,
+betrayed increasing resentment, but did not utter a word. The physician
+affected not to perceive the vexation of his guest. Taking Dom Diego by
+the arm, he said, as he conducted him to the third stall:
+
+"Honestly, my lord canon, did you ever see anything more beautiful, more
+charming, than this?"
+
+"Never, oh, never!" exclaimed Dom Diego, clasping his hands in
+admiration, "although the confections of my country are considered the
+finest in the world."
+
+Nor was there, indeed, anything more captivating or more beautiful than
+this third stall, where was displayed in cups or porcelain dishes
+everything that the most refined epicureans could imagine in preserves,
+confections, and sweetmeats. In one place, crystallised sugar enveloped
+sparkling stalactites of the most beautiful fruits; in another, pyramids
+of all kinds, variegated with the brightest colours,--red with lozenges
+of rose, green with frozen pistachios shading into tints of lemon;
+farther on, oranges, limes, cedras, all covered with a snowy coating of
+sugar. Again, transparent jellies, made from Rouen apples, and currant
+jellies from Bar, shone with the prismatic brilliancy of ruby and topaz.
+Still farther, wide slabs of nougat from Marseilles, white as fresh
+cream, served as pedestals for columns of chocolate made in Bayonne, and
+apricot paste from Montpellier. Boxes of preserved fruit from Touraine,
+as fresh as if they had just been gathered, and in their gorgeous
+colouring resembling Florentine mosaics, charmed the eyes of the
+beholder.
+
+A young and pretty woman, a niece of Dr. Gasterini, presided at this
+exhibition of sweets, and welcomed her uncle with an amiable smile.
+
+"I present to you, gentlemen, my niece Augustine, one of the first
+confectioners in Paris, a true artist, who carves and paints in sugar,
+and her masterpieces are literally the crack dainties of Paris; but this
+specimen of her ability is nothing: in about a fortnight her shop on
+Vivienne Street will show a fine display, and I am sure you will see
+there some marvellous productions of her skill."
+
+"Certainly, my dear uncle," replied the smiling mistress of the stall,
+"we will have the newest sweetmeats, the richest boxes, the most
+cleverly woven baskets of dainties, and the prettiest little bags, and
+for all these accessories we have a workshop where we employ thirty
+artisans, without counting, you understand, all the persons engaged in
+the laboratory."
+
+"What is the matter with you, my dear abbe?" asked the doctor of this
+saintly man. "You seem to be quite gloomy. Are you vexed to see that
+gluttony controls all sorts of industries and productions which count
+for so much in the commercial progress of France? Zounds, man, you have
+not reached the end yet!"
+
+"Well, well," replied the abbe, under constraint, "I see what you are
+coming to, you wicked man, but I will have a response for all. Go on, go
+on, I do not say a word, but I do not think the less."
+
+"I am at your service for discussion, my dear abbe, but in the
+meanwhile, my lord canon," continued the doctor, turning to Dom Diego,
+"you ought to be already partially convinced, since you see that you
+can, without remorse, enjoy the rarest fruits, the most delicate fish,
+and the most delicious sweetmeats. And more, as I have told you before,
+since you are a rich man, the consumption of these dainties is for you
+an imperative social duty, for the more you consume the greater impetus
+you give to production."
+
+"And I realise that in my specialty I am at the height of this noble and
+patriotic mission!" exclaimed the canon, with enthusiasm. "You give me,
+dear doctor, the consciousness of duty performed."
+
+"I did not expect less from the loftiness of your soul, my lord canon,"
+replied the physician, "but a day will come when this kind mission of
+consumer that you accept with such proud interest will be more generally
+disseminated, and we will talk of that another time, but before passing
+on to the next stall I must ask your indulgence for my poor nephew
+Leonard, who presides at the exhibition you are going to see."
+
+"Why my indulgence, doctor?"
+
+"Because, you see, my nephew Leonard follows a rather dangerous calling,
+but he has followed the bent of his inclination. This devil of a boy has
+been reared like a savage. Put to nurse with a peasant woman living on
+the frontier of the forest of Senart, he was so puny for a long time
+that I allowed him to remain in the country until he was twelve years
+old. The peasant woman's husband was an arrant poacher, and my nephew
+had his bump for the chase as well developed as a hunting hound. You can
+judge what his bloodhound propensities would become under the tutelage
+of such a foster-parent. At the age of six years, sickly as he was,
+Leonard passed the whole day in the woods, busy with traps for rabbits,
+hares, and pheasants. At ten years the little man inaugurated his career
+as a hunter by killing a superb roebuck, one winter night, by the light
+of the moon. I was ignorant of all that. When, however, he was twelve
+years old, he seemed to have grown strong enough, and I placed him at
+school. Three days after, he scaled the walls which surrounded the
+boarding-school and returned to the forest of Senart. In a word, canon,
+nothing has been able to conquer the boy's passion for hunting. And,
+unfortunately, I confess that I became an accomplice by making him a
+present of a newly invented gun, so perfect and handy that it would make
+of you, my dear abbe, as accomplished a hunter as my nephew. He is not
+alone. Thousands of families live upon the superfluous game of rich
+proprietors who hunt, not from necessity, but because they find it an
+amusement. So, my lord canon, in tasting a leg of jerked venison, a hash
+of young partridge, or a thigh of roasted pheasant,--I could not do you
+the wrong of supposing you would prefer the wing,--you can assure
+yourself that you are contributing to the support of a number of poor
+households."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+The doctor, having concluded his eulogy upon the chase, approached his
+nephew's stall, and, with a significant gesture, pointed out to the
+canon and the abbe the finest exhibition of game that could be imagined.
+
+The English gamekeepers, great masters of the art of grouping game, thus
+making real pictures of dead nature, would have recognised the
+superiority of Leonard.
+
+Imagine a knotty, umbrageous tree six or seven feet high, standing in
+the middle of this stall. At the foot of the tree were grouped, on a bed
+of bright green fern, a young wild boar, a magnificent fallow deer, two
+years old, the proper age for venison, and two fine roebucks. These
+animals were lying in a restful position, the head gently bent over the
+shoulder, as if they were in their accustomed haunts in the depths of
+the forest. Long flexible branches of ivy fell from the lower boughs of
+the tree, among whose glossy leaves could be seen hares and rabbits,
+alternating with the wild geese of ashen-gray colour, wild ducks with
+green heads and feathers tipped with white, pheasants with scarlet eyes
+and necks of changeable blue and plumage shining like burnished copper;
+and silver-coloured bustards, a bird of passage quite rare in our
+climate. Here and there, branches of holly with purple berries, and the
+rosy bloom of heather mingled gracefully with the game disposed at
+different heights. Then came groups of woodcocks, gray partridges, red
+partridges, gold-coloured plovers, water-hens as black as ebony, with
+yellow beaks; upon the highest boughs the most delicate game was
+suspended,--quails, thrushes, fig-peckers, and rails, those kings
+of the plain; and finally, at the top of the tree, a magnificent
+heath-cock, caught, no doubt, in the mountains of Ardennes, seemed to
+open his broad wings of brown, touched with blue, and hover over this
+hecatomb of game.
+
+[Illustration: "_The most delicate game was suspended._"
+
+Original etching by Adrian Marcel.]
+
+Leonard, an agile, slender lad with a fawn-coloured eye, and frank,
+resolute face, contemplated his work with admiration, giving here and
+there a finishing touch, contrasting the red of a partridge with the
+green branch of a juniper-tree, or the shining ebony of a water-hen with
+the bright rose of the heather bloom.
+
+"I have informed these gentlemen of your frightful trade, my bad boy,"
+said Doctor Gasterini to his nephew Leonard, with a smile. "My lord
+canon and the saintly abbe will pray for the salvation of your soul."
+
+"Oh, oh, my good uncle!" replied Leonard, good-naturedly, "I would
+rather have them pray for success in shooting the two finest deer, as
+company for the wild boar I have killed, whose head and fillets I
+present to you, uncle."
+
+"Alas, alas, he is incorrigible!" said Doctor Gasterini, "and unhappily,
+my lord canon, you have no idea of the deliciousness of the flavour
+peculiar to the minced fillets and properly stuffed head of a year-old
+wild boar, seasoned a la Saint Hubert! Ah, my dear canon, how rich, how
+juicy! It was right to put this divine dish under the protection of the
+patron saint of the chase. But let us pass on," continued the doctor,
+preceding Dom Diego, who was fascinated and dazzled by a display
+entirely novel to him, for such wealth of game is unknown in Spain.
+
+"Oh, how grand is Nature in her creations!" said the canon; "what a
+marvellous scale of pleasures for the palate from the monstrous wild
+boar to the fig-pecker,--that exquisite little bird! Glory, glory to
+thee, eternal gratitude to thee," added he, in the manner of an
+ejaculatory prayer.
+
+"Bravo, Dom Diego!" cried the doctor, "now are you in the right."
+
+"Now he is in materialism, in paganism, and the grossest pantheism,"
+said the intractable abbe. "You will damn him, doctor, you will destroy
+his soul!"
+
+"Still a little patience, my dear abbe," replied the doctor, walking
+toward another stall. "Soon, in spite of yourself, you will be convinced
+that I speak truly in extolling the excellence of gluttony, or rather
+you will think as I do, although you will take occasion to deny the
+evidence. Now, canon, you are going to see how this gluttony, so dear to
+you and me, becomes one of the causes of the progress of agriculture,
+the real basis of the prosperity of the country. And with this subject
+let me introduce to you my nephew Mathurin, a tiller of those salt
+meadows, which nourish the only beasts worthy of the gourmand, and which
+give him those invaluable legs of mutton, those unsurpassed cutlets,
+those fillets of wonderful beef which even England envies us. I present
+to you also my nephew Mathurin's wife, native of Le Mans, and familiar
+with that illustrious school of fattening animals, which produces those
+pullets and capons known as one of the glories and riches of France."
+
+The shop of farmer Mathurin was undeniably less picturesque, less
+pretty, and by no means so showy as the others, but it had, by way of
+compensation, an attractive and dignified simplicity.
+
+Upon large screens of willow branches, covered with thyme, sage,
+rosemary, tarragon, and other aromatic herbs, were displayed, in
+Herculean size, monstrous pieces of beef for roasting, fabulous
+sirloins, marvellous loins of veal, and those legs and saddles of
+mutton, and unparalleled cutlets, which have filled the hundred mouths
+of Rumour with the incomparable flavour of the famous beasts of the salt
+meadows.
+
+Although raw, this delicious meat, surrounded with sweet and pungent
+herbs, was so delicate and of such a tempting red with its fat of
+immaculate whiteness, that the glances which Dom Diego threw upon these
+specimens of bovine and ovine industry, were nothing less than
+carnivorous. Half hidden among clusters of water-cresses was a
+collection of pullets, capons, pure India cocks, and a species of fowl
+called tardillons, so round and fat and plump, and with a satin skin of
+such delicacy, that more than one pretty woman might have envied them.
+
+"Oh, how pretty they are! how lovely they are!" stammered the canon.
+"Oh, it is enough to make one lose his head!"
+
+"Ah, my dear canon," said the doctor, "pray, what will you say when the
+charming pallor of these pullets will turn into gold by the fires of the
+turnspit? when, distended almost to breaking by truffles made bluish
+under their delicate epidermis, this satin skin becomes rosy until it
+sheds the tear-drops of purple juice, watered by the slow distillation
+of its fat, as exquisitely delicate as the fat of a quail."
+
+"Enough, doctor!" cried the canon, excited, "enough, I pray you, of
+braving scandal. I will attack one of those adorable pullets, without
+the least respect to its present condition."
+
+"Calm yourself, my Lord Dom Diego," said the doctor, smiling, "the
+dinner hour approaches and you can then pay your homage to two sisters
+of these adorable fowls."
+
+Then, addressing his nephew Mathurin, the doctor said:
+
+"My boy, these gentlemen think the produce of your farm very wonderful."
+
+"The gentlemen are very kind, dear uncle," replied Mathurin, "but it is
+the cattle of one who chooses and loves the work! I do not fear the
+English or the Ardennois, upon the flavour of my beef, my veal, or my
+mutton from the salt meadows which make my reputation and my fortune.
+Because, you see, gentlemen, the prime object of agriculture is to make
+food, as we say. The cattle produce the manure, the manure the pasture,
+the pasture the fertility of the earth, and the fertility of the earth
+gives provision and pasturage to the cattle. All is bound together: the
+more the cattle is finely fattened, the better it is for the eater,
+according to our proverb; the better it sells, the better is the manure
+and consequently better is the culture. So with the poultry of Mathurin;
+without doubt, it is a great expense and requires many persons on the
+farm, for perhaps, gentlemen, you will not believe that to fatten one of
+these capons and one of these pullets as you see them here, we must open
+the beak and, fifteen or twenty times a day, put down the throat little
+balls of barley flour and milk, and that, too, for three months! But we
+get a famous product, because each capon brings us more than a weak
+mutton or veal. But immense care is necessary. So, with the advice of
+this dear uncle, whose advice is always good, we show every year at
+Christmas what we do on the farm. In the evening, upon the return of the
+cattle, the first two beeves which enter the stable, the finest or the
+poorest, no matter, chance decides it, are set aside; it is the same
+with the first six calves; afterward, when, the cages of the fowls are
+opened, the first dozen capons, the first dozen pullets, and the first
+dozen cocks which come out are set aside."
+
+"What good is that?" asked the abbe. "What is done with these animals
+thus appointed by fate?"
+
+"We make a lot of them and they are sold for the profit of the people on
+the farm. This profit is in addition to their fixed wages. You
+understand, gentlemen, that all my people are thus interested in the
+cattle and the poultry, which receive the best possible care, inasmuch
+as chance alone decides the lot of _encouragement_, as we call it. What
+is the result, gentlemen? It is that cattle and poultry become almost as
+much the property of my people as mine, because the finer the lot, the
+dearer it sells, and the larger the profit. Eh, gentlemen, would you
+believe that, thanks to the zeal, the care and diligence which my farm
+people give to the hope of this profit, I gain more than I give, because
+our interest is common, so that in improving the condition of these poor
+people, I advance my own."
+
+"The moral of all this, my lord canon, is," said the doctor, smiling,
+"that it is necessary to eat as many fine sirloins as possible, as many
+tender cutlets from the salt meadows, and give oneself with equal
+devotion to the unlimited consumption of pullets, capons, and India
+cocks, so as to encourage this industry."
+
+"I will try, doctor," said the canon, gravely, "to attain to the height
+of my duties."
+
+"And they are more numerous than you think, Dom Diego, because it
+depends upon you too to see that poor people are better clothed and
+better shod, and to this you can make especial contribution, by eating
+plenty of veal stewed a la Samaritan, plenty of beefsteak with anchovy
+sauce, and plenty of lambs' tongues a la d'Uxelle."
+
+"Come now, doctor," said the canon, "you are joking!"
+
+"You are rather slow in discovering that, Dom Diego," said the abbe.
+
+"I am speaking seriously," replied the doctor, "and I am going to prove
+it to you, Dom Diego. What are shoes made of?"
+
+"Of leather, doctor."
+
+"And what produces this leather? Do not beeves, sheep, and calves? It is
+then evident that the more cattle consumed, the more the price of
+leather is diminished, and good health-promoting shoes become more
+accessible to the poor, who can afford only wooden shoes."
+
+"That is true," said the canon, with a thoughtful expression. "It is
+certainly true."
+
+"Now," continued the doctor, "of what are good woollen garments and
+good woollen stockings woven? Of the fleece of the sheep! Now, then, the
+greater the consumption of mutton, the cheaper wool becomes."
+
+"Ah, doctor," cried the canon, carried away by a sudden burst of fine
+philosophy, "what a pity we cannot eat six meals a day! Yes, yes, a man
+could kill himself with indigestion for the greater happiness of his
+fellow men."
+
+"Ah, Dom Diego!" replied the doctor, in a significant tone. "Such
+perhaps is the martyrdom which awaits you!"
+
+"And I shall submit to it with joy," cried the canon, enthusiastically.
+"It is sweet to die for humanity!"
+
+Abbe Ledoux could no longer doubt that Dom Diego was wholly beyond his
+influence, and manifested his vexation by angry glances, and disdainful
+shrugs of his shoulders.
+
+"Oh, my God, doctor," suddenly exclaimed the canon, expanding his wide
+nostrils over and over again, "what is that appetising odour I scent
+there?"
+
+"That is the exhibition of the industry pursued by my nephew Michel, my
+lord canon; these things are just out of the oven; see what a golden
+brown they have, how dainty they are!"
+
+And Doctor Gasterini pointed out to the canon, the most marvellous
+specimens of pastry and bakery that one could possibly imagine: immense
+pies of game, of fish and of fowl, delicious morsels of baked
+shell-fish, fruit pies, little tarts with preserves and creams of all
+sorts, smoking cakes of every description, meringues with pineapple
+jelly, burnt almonds and sugared nuts, nougats mounted in shape of
+rocks, supporting temples of sugar candy, graceful ships of candy, whose
+top of fine spun sugar, resembling filigree work of silver, disclosed a
+dish of vanilla cakes, floating in rose-coloured cream whipped as light
+as foam. The list of wonderful dainties would be too long to enumerate,
+and Canon Dom Diego stood before them in mute admiration.
+
+"The dinner hour approaches, and I must go to my stoves, to give the
+finishing touch to certain dishes, which my pupils have begun," said
+Doctor Gasterini to his guest. "But to prove to you the importance of
+this appetising branch of industry, I will limit myself to a single
+question."
+
+And addressing his nephew Michel, he said:
+
+"My boy, tell the gentleman how much the stock of pastry you exhibit in
+the street of La Paix has cost."
+
+"You ought to know, uncle," replied Michel, smiling affectionately at
+Doctor Gasterini, "for you advanced the money necessary for the
+expenditure."
+
+"My faith, boy, you have reimbursed me long ago, and I have forgotten
+the figures. Let us see. It was--"
+
+"Two hundred thousand francs, uncle. And I have done an excellent
+business. Besides, the house is good, because my predecessor made there
+twenty thousand a year income in ten years."
+
+"Twenty thousand income!" cried Dom Diego in astonishment, "twenty
+thousand!"
+
+"Now you see, my lord canon, how capital is created by eating hot pies
+and plum cake with pistachios. But would you like to see something
+really grand? For this time we are discussing an industry which affects
+not only the interests of almost all the counties of France, but which
+extends over a great part of Europe and the East,--that is to say,
+Germany, Italy, Greece, Spain, and Portugal. An industry which puts in
+circulation an enormous amount of capital, which occupies entire
+populations, whose finest products sometimes reach a fabulous price,--an
+industry, in short, which is to gluttony what the soul is to the body,
+what mind is to matter. Wait, Dom Diego, look and reverence, for here
+the youngest are already very old."
+
+Immediately, through instinct, the canon took off his hat, and
+reverently bowed his head.
+
+"I present to you my nephew Theodore, commissary of fine French and
+foreign wines," said the doctor to the canon.
+
+There was nothing brilliant or showy in this stall; only simple wooden
+shelves filled with dusty bottles and above each shelf a label in red
+letters on a black ground, which made the brief and significant
+announcement:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"_France._--Chambertin (comet); Clos-Vougeat, 1815; Volney (comet);
+Nuits, 1820; Pomard, 1834; Chablis, 1834; Pouilly (comet); Chateau
+Margot, 1818; Haut-Brion, 1820; Chateau Lafitte, 1834; Sauterne, 1811;
+Grave (comet); Roussillon, 1800; Tavel, 1802; Cahors, 1793; Lunel, 1814;
+Frontignan (comet); Rivesaltes, 1831; Foamy Ai, 1820; Ai rose, 1831; Dry
+Sillery (comet); Eau de vie de Cognac, 1757; Anisette de Bordeaux, 1804;
+Ratafia de Louvres, 1807.
+
+"_Germany._--Johannisberg, 1779; Rudesteimer, 1747; Hocheimer, 1760;
+Tokai, 1797; Vermouth, 1801; Vin de Hongrie, 1783; Kirchenwasser of the
+Black Forest, 1801.
+
+"_Holland._--Anisette, 1821; Curacao red, 1805; White Curacao, 1820;
+Genievre, 1799.
+
+"_Italy._--Lacryma Christi, 1803; Imola, 1819.
+
+"_Greece._--Chypre, 1801; Samos, 1813.
+
+"_Ionian Islands._--Marasquin de Zara.
+
+"_Spain._--Val de Penas, 1812; Xeres dry, 1809; Sweet Xeres, 1810;
+Escatelle, 1824; Tintilla de Rota, 1823; Malaga, 1799.
+
+"_Portugal._--Po, 1778.
+
+"_Island of Madeira._--Madeira, 1810; having made three voyages from the
+Indies.
+
+"_Cape of Good Hope._--Red and white and pale wines, 1826."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+While Dom Diego was looking on with profound interest, Doctor Gasterini
+said to his nephew:
+
+"My boy, do you recollect the price at which some celebrated
+wine-cellars have been sold?"
+
+"Yes, dear uncle," replied Michel, "the Duke of Sussex owned a
+wine-cellar which was sold for two hundred and eighty thousand francs;
+Lafitte's wine-cellar sold in Paris for nearly one hundred thousand
+francs; the one belonging to Lagilliere, also in Paris, was sold for
+sixty thousand francs."
+
+"Well, well, Dom Diego," said Doctor Gasterini to his guest, "what do
+you think of it? Do you believe all this to be an abomination, as that
+wag Abbe Ledoux, who is observing us now with such a deceitful
+countenance, declares? Do you think the passion, which promotes an
+industry of such importance, deserves to be anathematised only? Think of
+the expenditure of labour in their transport and preservation that these
+wine-cellars must have cost. How many people have lived on the money
+they represent?"
+
+"I think," said the canon, "that I was blind and stupid never to have
+comprehended, until now, the immense social, political, and industrial
+influence I have wielded by eating and drinking the choicest viands and
+wines. I think now that the consciousness of accomplishing a mission to
+the world in giving myself up to unbridled gluttony, will be a delicious
+aperient for my appetite,--a consciousness which I owe to you, and to
+you only, doctor. Oh, noble thinker! Oh, grand philosophy!"
+
+"This is the science of gastronomy carried to insanity," said Abbe
+Ledoux. "It is a new paganism."
+
+"My Lord Diego," continued the doctor, "we will speak of the gratitude
+which you think you owe me, when we have taken a view of this last shop.
+Here is an industry which surpasses in importance all of which we have
+been speaking. The question is a grave one, for it turns the scale of
+gluttony's influence upon the equilibrium of Europe."
+
+"The equilibrium of Europe!" said the canon, more and more dismayed.
+"What has eating to do with the equilibrium of Europe?"
+
+"Go on, go on, Dom Diego," said Abbe Ledoux, shrugging his shoulders,
+"if you listen to this tempter, he will prove to you things still more
+astonishing."
+
+"I am going to prove, my dear abbe, both to you and to Dom Diego, that I
+advance nothing but what is strictly true. And, first, you will confess,
+will you not, that the marine service of a nation like France has great
+weight in the balance of the destinies of Europe?"
+
+"Certainly," said the canon.
+
+"Well, what follows?" said the abbe.
+
+"Now," pursued the doctor, "you will agree with me, that as this
+military marine service is strengthened or enfeebled, France gains or
+loses in the same proportion?"
+
+"Evidently," said the canon.
+
+"Conclude your argument," cried the abbe, "that is what I am waiting
+for."
+
+"I will conclude then, my dear abbe, by saying that the more progress
+gluttony makes, the more accessible it becomes to the greatest number,
+the more will the military marine of France gain in strength and in
+influence, and that, my Lord Dom Diego, I am going to demonstrate to you
+by begging you to read that sign."
+
+And just above the door of this last stall, the only one not occupied by
+a niece or nephew of Doctor Gasterini, were the words "Colonial
+Provisions."
+
+"Colonial provisions," repeated the canon aloud, looking at the
+physician with an interrogating air, while the abbe, more discerning,
+bit his lips with vexation.
+
+"Do I need to tell you, lord canon," pursued the doctor, "that without
+colonies, we would have no merchant service, and without a merchant
+service, no navy for war, since the navy is recruited from the seamen
+in the merchant service? Well, if the lovers of good eating did not
+consume all the delicacies which you see exhibited here in small
+samples,--sugar, coffee, vanilla, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, rice,
+pistachios, Cayenne pepper, nutmeg, liquors from the islands, hachars
+from the Indies, what, I ask you, would become of our colonies, that is
+to say, our maritime power?"
+
+"I am amazed," cried the canon, "I am dizzy; at each step I feel myself
+expand a hundred cubits."
+
+"And, zounds! you are right, lord Dom Diego," said the doctor, "for
+indeed, when, after having tasted at dessert a cheese frozen with
+vanilla, to which will succeed a glass of wine from Constance or the
+Cape, you take a cup of coffee, and conclude of course with one or two
+little glasses of liquor from the islands, flavoured with cloves or
+cinnamon, ah, well, you will further heroically the maritime power of
+France, and do in your sphere as much for the navy as the sailor or the
+captain. And speaking of captains, lord canon," added the doctor, sadly,
+"I wish you to observe that among all the shops we have seen, this one
+alone is empty, because the captain of the ship which has brought all
+these choice provisions from the Indies and the colonies dares not show
+himself, while he is under the cloud of your vengeance. I mean, canon,
+my poor nephew, Captain Horace. He alone has failed to come, to-day, to
+this family feast."
+
+"Ah, the accursed serpent!" muttered the abbe, "how adroitly he goes to
+his aim; how well he knows how to wind this miserable brute, Dom Diego,
+around his finger."
+
+At the name of Captain Horace, the canon started, then relapsed into
+thoughtful silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Canon Dom Diego, after a few moments' silence, extended his fat hand to
+Doctor Gasterini, and, trembling with emotion, said:
+
+"Doctor, Captain Horace cost me my appetite; you have restored it to me,
+I hope, for the remainder of my life; and much more, you have, according
+to your promise, proven to me, not by specious reasoning, but by facts
+and figures, that the gourmand, as you have declared with so much
+wisdom, accomplishes a high social and political mission in the
+civilised world; you have delivered me from the pangs of remorse by
+giving me a knowledge of the noble task that my epicureanism may
+perform, and in this sacred duty, doctor, I will not fail. So, in
+gratitude to you, in appreciation of you, I hope to acquit myself
+modestly by declaring to you that, not only shall I refuse to enter a
+complaint against your nephew, Captain Horace, but I cordially bestow
+upon him the hand of my niece in marriage."
+
+"As I told you, canon," said the abbe, "I was very sure that once this
+diabolical doctor had you in his clutches, he would do with you all that
+he desired. Where now are the beautiful resolutions you made this
+morning?"
+
+"Abbe," replied Dom Diego, in a self-sufficient tone, "I am not a child;
+I shall know how to stand at the height of the role the doctor has
+marked out for me."
+
+Then turning to the doctor, he added:
+
+"You can instruct me, sir, what to write; a reliable person will take my
+letter, and go immediately in your carriage to the convent for my
+niece, and conduct her to this house."
+
+"Lord Dom Diego," replied the doctor, "you assure the happiness of our
+two children, the joy of my declining days, and consequently your
+satisfaction and pleasure in the indulgence of your appetite, for I
+shall keep my word; I will make you dine every day better than I made
+you breakfast the other morning. A wing of this house will henceforth be
+at your disposal; you will do me the honour of eating at my table, and
+you see that, after the professions I have chosen for my nieces and
+nephews,--with the knowledge and taste of an epicure, as I have told
+you,--my larder and my wine-cellar will be always marvellously well
+appointed and supplied. I am growing old, I have need of a staff in my
+old age. Horace and his wife shall never leave me. I shall confide to
+them the collection of my culinary traditions, that they may transmit
+them from generation to generation; we shall all live together, and we
+shall enjoy in turn the practice and philosophy of gluttony, my lord
+canon."
+
+"Doctor, I set my foot upon the very threshold of paradise!" cried the
+canon. "Ah, Providence is merciful, it loads a poor sinner like myself
+with blessings!"
+
+"Heresy! blasphemy! impiety!" cried Abbe Ledoux. "You will be damned,
+thrice damned, as will be your tempter!"
+
+"Come now, dear abbe," replied the doctor, "none of your tricks. Confess
+at once that I have convinced you by my reasoning."
+
+"I! I am convinced!"
+
+"Certainly, because I defy you--you and all like you, past, present, or
+future--to get out of this dilemma."
+
+"Let us hear the dilemma."
+
+"If gluttony is a monstrosity, then frugality pushed to the extreme
+ought to be a virtue."
+
+"Certainly," answered the abbe.
+
+"Then, my dear abbe, the more frugal a man is, according to your theory,
+the more deserving is he."
+
+"Evidently, doctor."
+
+"So the man who lives on uncooked roots, and drinks water only for the
+purpose of self-mortification, would be the type and model of a virtuous
+man."
+
+"And who doubts it? You can find that celestial type among the
+anchorites."
+
+"Admirable types, indeed, abbe! Now, according to your ideas of making
+proselytes, you ought to desire most earnestly that all mankind should
+approach this type of ideal perfection as nearly as possible,--a man
+inhabiting a cave and living on roots. The beautiful ideal of your
+religious society would then be a society of cave-dwellers and
+root-eaters, administering rough discipline by way of pastime."
+
+"Would to God it might be so!" sternly answered the abbe; "there would
+be then as many righteous on the earth as there are men."
+
+"In the first place that would deplete the census considerably, my dear
+abbe, and afterward there would be the little inconvenience of
+destroying with one blow all the various industries, the specimens of
+which we have just been admiring. Without taking into account the
+industry of weavers who make our cloth, silversmiths who emboss silver
+plate, fabricators of porcelain and glass, painters, gilders, who
+embellish our houses, upholsterers, etc., that is to say, society, in
+approaching your ideal, would annihilate three-fourths of the most
+flourishing industries, and, in other words, would return to a savage
+state."
+
+"Better work out your salvation in a savage state," persisted the
+opinionated Abbe Ledoux, "than deserve eternal agony by abandoning
+yourself to the pleasures of a corrupt civilisation."
+
+"What sublime disinterestedness! But then, why leave so generously these
+renunciations to others, these bitter, cruel privations, abandoning to
+them your part of paradise, and modestly contenting yourself with easy
+living here below, sleeping on eider-down, refreshing yourself with cool
+drinks, and comforting your stomach with warm food? Come, let us talk
+seriously, and confess that this is a veritable outrage, a veritable
+blasphemy against the munificence of creation, not to enjoy the thousand
+good things which she provides for the satisfaction of the creature."
+
+"Pagans, materialists, philosophers!" exclaimed Abbe Ledoux, "who are
+not able to admit what, in their infernal pride, they are not able to
+comprehend!"
+
+"Yes, _credo quia absurdum._ This axiom is as old as the world, my dear
+abbe, but it does not prevent the world's progress to the overthrow of
+your theories of privation and renunciation. Thank God, the world
+continually seeks welfare! Believe me, it is not necessary to reduce
+mankind to feeding on roots and drinking water; on the contrary, we
+ought to work to the end that the largest possible number may live, at
+least, upon good meats, good poultry, good fruit, good bread, and pure
+wine. Nature, in her infinite wisdom, has made man insatiable in demands
+for his body, and in the aspirations of his intelligence, and, if we
+think only of the wonderful things which man has made to gratify his
+five senses, for which nature has provided so bountifully, we are struck
+with admiration. We are then but obeying natural laws to labour with
+enthusiasm for the comfort and well-being of others, by the consumption
+and use of these provisions, and, as I told the canon, to do, each in
+his own sphere, as much as possible; in short, to enjoy without remorse,
+because--But the clock strikes six; come with me, my lord canon, and
+write the letter which is to bring your charming niece here. I will take
+a last look at my laboratory, where two of my best pupils have
+undertaken duties which I have entrusted to them. The dear abbe will
+await me in the parlour, for I intend to complete my programme and
+prove to him, by economic facts, not only the excellence of gluttony,
+but also of the other passions he calls the deadly sins."
+
+"Very well, we will see how far you will push your sacrilegious
+paradoxes," said Abbe Ledoux, imperturbably. "Besides, all monstrosities
+are interesting to observe, but, doctor--doctor--three centuries ago,
+what a magnificient auto da fe they would have made of you!"
+
+"A bad roast, my dear abbe! It would not be worth much more than the
+result of that hunt that you made in the glorious time of your
+fanaticism against the Protestants in the mountains of Cevennes. Bad
+game, abbe. Well, I shall be back soon, my dear guests," said the
+doctor, taking his departure.
+
+The canon having written to the mother superior of the convent, a man in
+the confidence of Doctor Gasterini departed in a carriage to fetch
+Senora Dolores Salcedo, and at the same time to inform Captain Horace
+and his faithful Sans-Plume that they could come out of their
+hiding-place.
+
+A half-hour after the departure of this emissary, the canon, the abbe,
+as well as the nieces and nephews of Doctor Gasterini, and several other
+guests, met in the doctor's parlour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Dolores and Horace soon arrived, within a short interval of each other,
+at the house of Doctor Gasterini. We leave the reader to imagine the joy
+of the two lovers and the expression of their tender gratitude to the
+doctor and the canon. The profound pity of the canon, the consciousness
+of assuring the happiness of his niece, were manifested by a hunger as
+rapacious as that of a tiger, as he whispered, with a doleful voice, in
+the doctor's ear:
+
+"Alas, alas! will your other guests never come, doctor? Some people have
+such frightful egotism!"
+
+"My guests will not delay much longer, my dear canon; it is half-past
+six, and at seven o'clock every one knows that I go to the table
+relentlessly."
+
+In fact the invited guests of the doctor were not long in assembling,
+and a valet announced successively the following names:
+
+"The Duke and Duchess of Senneterre-Maillefort!"
+
+"Pride," whispered the doctor to the canon and abbe, who made a wry face
+as he recalled the misadventure of his protege, who pretended to the
+hand of the rich heiress, Mlle. de Beaumesnil.
+
+"How amiable you are, duchess, to have accepted my invitation!" said the
+doctor to Herminie, whom he advanced to welcome, kissing her hand
+respectfully. "If I must tell you, madame, I counted on you to decide on
+this dear pride, that M. de Maillefort, M. de Senneterre, and I admire
+so much in you."
+
+"And how is that, my dear doctor?" said Gerald de Senneterre,
+affectionately. "I well know that I owe the happiness of my life to my
+wife's pride, but--"
+
+"Our dear doctor is right," replied Herminie, smiling. "I am very proud
+of the friendship he has for us, and I avail myself of every opportunity
+to show him how much I appreciate his attachment, without even speaking
+of the eternal gratitude we owe him for his devoted care of my son and
+the daughter of Ernestine. I need not tell you, dear doctor, how much
+she regrets not being here this evening, but her indisposition keeps her
+at home, and dear Olivier and her uncle, M. de Maillefort, do not leave
+the interesting invalid one minute."
+
+"There is nothing like these old sailors, these old soldiers of Africa,
+and these duellist marquises to make good nurses, without wishing to
+depreciate the terrible Madame Barbancon," replied the doctor, gaily.
+"Only, duchess, permit me to differ from you in the construction you
+have placed on my words. I wished to say that your own tendency to pride
+assured me beforehand that you will encourage in me that delightful sin,
+in making me proud to have you in my house."
+
+"And I, doctor," said Gerald de Senneterre, smiling, "I declare that you
+encourage in us alarmingly the dainty sin of gluttony, because when one
+has dined at your house, he becomes a gourmand for ever!"
+
+The conversation of the doctor, Herminie, and Gerald, to which the canon
+was giving close attention, was interrupted by the voice of the valet,
+who announced:
+
+"M. Yvon Cloarek!"
+
+"Anger," whispered the doctor to the canon, advancing to meet the old
+corsair, who, notwithstanding his great age, was still hale and
+vigorous.
+
+"Long live the railroads! for I come this instant from Havre, my old
+comrade, to assist at the anniversary of your birthday," said Yvon,
+cordially grasping the doctor's hands, "and to come here I have left
+Sabine, Sabinon, and Sabinette,--names that the old centenarian,
+Segoffin, my head artilleryman, has given to my granddaughter and
+great-granddaughter, for I am a great-grandfather, you know."
+
+"Zounds! old comrade, and I hope you will not stop at that!"
+
+"And so my son-in-law, Onesime, whom you ushered into life thirty years
+ago, charged me to remember him to you. And here I am!"
+
+"Could you fail to be at our annual reunions, Yvon, my brave comrade, I
+should have one of those magnificent attacks of anger which used to
+possess you."
+
+Then turning to the canon and the abbe, the doctor presented Yvon,
+saying:
+
+"This is Captain Cloarek, one of our oldest and most illustrious
+corsairs, the famous hero of the brig _Hellhound_, which played
+wonderful tricks at the end of the Empire."
+
+"Ah, captain," said the canon, "in 1812 I was at Gibraltar, and I had
+the honour of often hearing you and your ship cursed by the English."
+
+"And do you know, my dear canon, to what admirable sin Captain Cloarek
+owes his glory, and the services he rendered to France in the victorious
+cruises he made against the English? I am going to tell you, and my old
+friend will not contradict me. Glory, success, riches,--he owes all to
+anger."
+
+"To anger?" exclaimed the abbe.
+
+"To anger!" said the canon.
+
+"The truth is, gentlemen," modestly answered Cloarek, "that the little I
+have done for my country I owe to my naturally tremendous anger."
+
+"M. and Madame Michel," announced the valet.
+
+"Indolence," said the doctor to the canon and the abbe, approaching
+Florence and her husband,--Michel having married Madame de Lucenay after
+the death of M. de Lucenay, victim of a balloon ascension he had
+attempted from Mount Chimborazo, in company with Valentine.
+
+"Ah, madame," said Doctor Gasterini, gallantly kissing the hand of
+Florence, "how well I know your good-will when you tear yourself away
+from your self-indulgent, sweet habits of idleness, to give me the
+pleasure of having you at my house before your departure for your
+beautiful retreat in Provence."
+
+"Why, my good doctor," replied the young woman, smiling, "do you forget
+that indolent people are capable of everything?"
+
+"Even of making the incredible effort of coming to dine with one of
+their best friends," added Michel, grasping the doctor's hand.
+
+"And to think," replied Doctor Gasterini, "just to think that several
+years ago I was consulted for the purpose of curing you of this dreadful
+sin of indolence. Happily the limitations of science, and especially the
+profound respect I feel for the gifts of the Creator, prevented my
+attempt upon the ineffable supineness with which you are endowed."
+
+And designating Abbe Ledoux by a glance of his eye, the doctor added:
+
+"And, madame, Abbe Ledoux, whom I have the honour of presenting to you,
+considers me, at this hour even, a pagan, a dreadful idolater. Be good
+enough to rehabilitate me in his opinion, by informing this saintly man
+that you and your husband have, in the midst of profound and invincible
+idleness, exercised an activity without bounds, an inconceivable energy,
+and a sagacity which have secured for both of you an honourable
+independence."
+
+"For the honour of indolence, respected abbe," replied Florence,
+smiling, "I am obliged to do violence to my own modesty, as well as that
+of my husband, by confessing that the dear doctor has spoken the truth."
+
+"M. Richard!" announced the valet.
+
+"Avarice," whispered the doctor to the canon and the abbe, while the
+father of Louis Richard, the happy husband of Marietta, advanced to meet
+him.
+
+"Is this M. Richard?" said the abbe, in a low voice to Doctor Gasterini,
+"the founder of those schools and houses of retreat established at
+Chaillot, and so admirably organised?"
+
+"It is he, himself," replied the doctor, extending his hand to the old
+man, as he said, "Welcome, good Richard, the abbe was just speaking to
+me of you."
+
+"Of me, dear doctor?"
+
+"Or, if you prefer it, of your wonderful endowments at Chaillot."
+
+"Ah, doctor," said the old man, "you must render unto Caesar the things
+that are Caesar's,--my son is the founder of those charitable
+institutions."
+
+"Let us see, my good Richard," replied the doctor, "if you had not been
+as thorough a miser as your friend, Ramon, your worthy son would not
+have been able to make your name blessed everywhere as he has done."
+
+"As to that, doctor, it is the pure truth, and, too, I confess to you
+that there is not a day I do not thank God, from this fact, for having
+made me the most avaricious of men."
+
+"And how is your son's friend, the Marquis of Saint-Herem?"
+
+"He came to visit us yesterday with his wife. His household is the very
+pearl of establishments. He invited us to visit his castle just erected
+in the valley of Chevreuse. They say that no palace in Paris equals it
+in splendour. It seems that for three years fifteen hundred artisans
+have been at work on it, without counting the terraces of the park,
+which alone have employed the force of four villages, and, as the
+marquis pays handsomely, you can conceive what comfort has been spread
+abroad through the neighbourhoods around his castle."
+
+"Well, then, my good Richard, you confess that, if the uncle of the
+marquis had not had the same avarice which you possessed, this generous
+fellow would not have been able to give work to so many families."
+
+"That is true, my dear doctor, so, under the name of Saint-Ramon, as the
+marquis has jestingly christened his uncle, the memory of this famous
+miser is blessed by everybody."
+
+"It is inconceivable, abbe," said the canon, "the doctor must be right.
+I am confounded with what I hear and with what I see. We are actually
+going to dine with the seven deadly sins."
+
+"M. Henri David!" said the valet.
+
+At this name the countenance of the doctor became grave; he walked up to
+David, took both his hands with effusive tenderness, and said:
+
+"Pardon me for having insisted upon your acceptance of this invitation,
+my dear David, but I promised my excellent friend and pupil, Doctor
+Dufour, who recommended you to me, to try to divert you during your
+short sojourn in Paris."
+
+"And I feel the need of these diversions, I assure you, sir. Down there
+our life is so calm, so regular, that hours slip away unperceived; but
+here, lost in the turmoil of this great city to which I have become a
+stranger, I feel these paroxysms of painful sadness, and I thank you a
+thousand times for having provided for me such an agreeable
+distraction."
+
+Henri David was talking thus to the doctor when seven o'clock sounded.
+
+The canon uttered a profound sigh of satisfaction as he saw the steward
+open the folding doors of the dining-room.
+
+
+
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+At the moment the guests of the doctor were about to enter the
+dining-room, the valet announced:
+
+"Madame the Marquise de Miranda."
+
+"Luxury," whispered the doctor to the abbe. "I feared she might fail
+us."
+
+Then offering his arm to Madeleine, more beautiful, more bewitching than
+ever, the doctor said, as he conducted her to the dining-room:
+
+"I had just begun to despair of the good fortune you had promised me,
+madame. Listen to me, at my age the happiness of seeing you here again
+you must know is inexpressible. Ah, if I were only fifty years younger!"
+
+"I would take you for my cavalier, my dear doctor," said the marquise,
+laughing extravagantly; "I think we have been friends, at the least
+estimate, for fifty years."
+
+We will not undertake to enumerate the wonders of the doctor's elegant
+dining-room. We will limit ourselves to the menu of this dinner,--a menu
+which each guest, thanks to a delicate forethought, found under his
+napkin, between two dozen oysters, one from Ostend and the other from
+Marennes. This menu was written on white vellum, and encased in a little
+framework of carved silver leaves enamelled with green. Each guest thus
+knew how to reserve his appetite for such dishes as he preferred. Let us
+add only that the size of the table and the dining-room was such that,
+instead of the narrow and inconvenient chairs which force you to eat, so
+to speak, with the elbows close to the body, each guest, seated in a
+large and comfortable chair, the feet on a soft carpet, had all the
+latitude necessary for the evolutions of his knife and fork. Here is the
+menu which the canon took with a hand trembling with emotion and read
+religiously.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+                MENU FOR DINNER.
+
+_Four Soups._--Soup a la Conde, rich crab soup with white meat of fowl,
+soup with kouskoussou, consomme with toast.
+
+_Four Releves of Fish._--Head of sturgeon a la Godard, pieces of eel a
+l'Italienne, salmon a la Chambord, turbot a la Hollandaise.
+
+_Four By-plates._--Croquettes a la royale, morsels of baked lobster
+tail, soft roe of carps a la Orly, little pies a la reine.
+
+_Four Large Dishes._--Quarter of pickled wild boar, ragout of beef from
+salt meadows, quarter of veal a la Monglas, roast beef from salt
+meadows.
+
+_Sixteen Entrees._--Scalloped roebuck a l'Espagnole, fillet of lamb a la
+Toulouse, slices of duck with orange, sweetbreads with jelly, sweetmeats
+of beccaficos a la d'Uxelle, meat pie a la Nesle, macaroni a la
+Parisienne, hot ortolan pie, fillets of pullet from Mans, woodcocks with
+choicest seasoning, quails on toast, rabbit cutlets a la marechale, veal
+liver with rice, partridge with black pudding a la Richelieu, foie gras
+a la Provencal, fillet of plover a la Lyonnaise.
+
+_Intermediate._--Punch a la Romaine.
+
+_Birds._--Pheasants sauced and stuffed with truffles, fowl dressed with
+slices of bacon, turkey stuffed with truffles from Perigord, grouse.
+
+_Ten Side-dishes._--Cardoons with marrow, artichokes a la Napolitaine,
+broiled mushrooms, Perigord truffles with champagne wine, white truffles
+of Piedmont with olive oil, celery a la Francaise, lobster stewed with
+Madeira wine, shrimps stewed with kari from the Indies, lettuce with
+essence of ham, asparagus and peas.
+
+_Two Large Confections._--Candy ship in rose-coloured cream, temple of
+sugar candy with pistachios.
+
+Chestnuts with frozen apricots, pineapple jelly with fruits, Bavarian
+cheese frozen with raspberries, whipped cream with cherry jelly, French
+cream with black coffee, preserved strawberries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After reading this menu, the canon, carried away with enthusiasm, and
+forgetting, we must confess, all conventionalities, rose from his chair,
+took his knife in one hand and his fork in the other, and, stretching
+out his arm, said, in a solemn voice:
+
+"Doctor, I swear I will eat it all!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And in fact the canon did eat all.
+
+And still he had an appetite.
+
+It is useless to say that the exquisite wines, whose delicious ambrosia
+the canon had already tested, circulated in profusion.
+
+At dessert, Doctor Gasterini rose, holding in his hand a little glass of
+iced wine of Constance, and said:
+
+"Ladies, I am going to offer an infernal toast,--a toast as diabolical
+as if we were joyously banqueting among the damned in the lowest depth
+of the dining-room in the kingdom of Satan."
+
+"Oh, oh, dear, amiable doctor!" exclaimed all with one voice, "pray what
+is this infernal toast?"
+
+"To the seven deadly sins!" replied the doctor. "And now, ladies, permit
+me to express to you the thought which this toast inspires in me. I
+promised Abbe Ledoux, who has the honour of being seated by the Marquise
+de Miranda,--I promised the abbe, I repeat, this man of mind, of
+experience, and learning, but incredulous,--to prove to him by positive,
+incontrovertible facts, the good that can be achieved in certain
+instances, and in a certain measure by these tendencies, instincts, and
+passions which we name the seven deadly sins. The whole problem is to
+regulate them wisely, and to draw from them the best that is possible.
+Now, as the Duchess of Senneterre-Maillefort, Madame Florence Michel,
+and the Marquise de Miranda have for a long time honoured me with their
+friendship,--as MM. Richard, Yvon Cloarek, and Henri David are my good
+old friends, I hope that, for the triumph of sound ideas, my amiable
+guests will have the grace to aid me in rehabilitating these capital
+sins, that by their excess, owing to the absence of proper control, have
+been absolutely condemned, and in converting this poor abbe to their
+possible utility. He sins only through ignorance and obstinacy, it is
+true, but he does not the less blaspheme these admirable means and
+sources of energy, happiness, and wealth, which the inexhaustible
+munificence of the Creator has bestowed upon his creatures. Now, as
+nothing is more charming than a conversation at dessert, among men of
+mind, I beg that, in the interest of our unfortunate brother, Abbe
+Ledoux, the representatives of these various sins will tell us all that
+they owe to them, both in their own careers and in the success of
+others."
+
+The proposition of Doctor Gasterini, unanimously welcomed, was carried
+out with perfect grace and uninterrupted joyousness. Henri David, who
+was the last but one to speak, interested the guests keenly in
+recounting the prodigies of devotion and generosity that Envy had
+inspired in Frederick Bastien, and even tears flowed at the account of
+the death of that noble child and that of his angelic mother. Happily
+the recital of Luxury concluded the dinner, and the lively marquise made
+the whole company laugh, when speaking of her adventure with the
+archduke, whose passion she did not share. She said that it was easier
+to induce the Pope's legate to masquerade as a Hungarian hussar than to
+make an Austrian archduke comprehend that man was born for liberty.
+Moreover, the marquise announced that she contrived a plan of campaign
+against the old Radetzki, and finally engaged in transforming him into a
+coal merchant, and making him one of the chief instruments in the
+liberation of Italy.
+
+"But this snow, dear and beautiful marquise," said the doctor to her, in
+a low voice, after this recital, "this armour of ice, which renders you
+apparently disdainful to those whom you inflame, is it never melted by
+so many fires?"
+
+"No, no, my good doctor," replied the marquise, softly, with a
+melancholy smile; "the memory of my blond archangel, my ideal and only
+love, keeps the depths of my heart pure and fresh, like a flower under
+the snow."
+
+"And I had remorse!" cried the canon, in a transport of delight over his
+easy digestion. "I was miscreant enough to feel remorse for the
+indulgence of my appetite."
+
+"Instead of remorse, an excellent dinner gives, on the contrary, even to
+the most selfish hearts, a singular inclination to charity," replied the
+doctor, "and if I did not fear I should be anathematised by our critical
+and dear Abbe Ledoux, I would add that, from the point of view of
+charity,--from that standpoint, gluttony would have the happiest
+results."
+
+"Go on," replied the abbe, shrugging his shoulders, as he sipped a
+little glass of exquisite cream, flavoured with cinnamon of Madame
+Amphoux, 1788. "You have already uttered so many absurdities, dear
+doctor, that one more or less--"
+
+"It depends not on chimeras, utopian schemes, but upon facts, palpable,
+practical, to-day and to-morrow," interrupted the doctor, "facts which
+can pour every day considerable sums in the coffers of the benevolent
+enterprises of Paris! Is that an absurdity?"
+
+"Speak, dear doctor," said the guests, unanimously; "speak! We are all
+listening to you."
+
+"This is what happened," replied the doctor; "and I regret that the
+thought did not occur to me sooner. Three days ago I was walking on one
+of the boulevards, about six o'clock in the evening. Surprised by a
+heavy shower, I took refuge in a cafe, one of the most fashionable
+restaurants in Paris. I never dine anywhere else than at home, but to
+keep myself in countenance, and satisfy my desire for observation, I
+ordered a few dishes which I did not touch, and, while I was waiting for
+the rain to stop, I amused myself by observing the persons who were
+dining. There could be a book, and a curious book, too, written upon the
+different shades of manner, character, and social and other conditions
+of people who reveal themselves unconsciously at the solemn hour of
+dinner. But that is not the question. I made this observation only, that
+each man, as he seated himself at the table, with an air indifferent,
+anxious, cheerful, or morose, as the case might be, seemed, in
+proportion as he dined upon excellent dishes, to yield to a sort of
+beatitude and inward happiness, which was reflected upon his
+countenance, that faithful mirror of the soul. As I was seated near one
+of the windows, I followed with my eye each one as he left the cafe.
+Outside the door stood a pale, ragged child, shivering under the cold
+autumn rain. Ah, well, my friends,--I say it to the praise of
+gourmands,--almost every one of those who had dined the best gave alms
+to the poor little hungry, trembling creature. Now, without speaking ill
+of my neighbour, I ask, would these same persons, fasting, have been as
+charitable? And I venture to affirm that the little beggar would have
+met with a harsh denial if he had asked them when they entered the cafe,
+instead of waiting until they came out."
+
+"Is this pagan going to tell us that charity owes its birth to
+gluttony?" cried Abbe Ledoux.
+
+"To reply successfully, dear abbe, it would be necessary for me to enter
+into a physiological discussion upon the subject of the influence of the
+physical on the moral," said the doctor. "I will tell you one simple
+thing. You have boxes for the poor at the doors of your churches. No one
+more than myself respects the charity of those faithful souls who put
+their rich or modest offering in these sacred places; but why not place
+alms-boxes in fashionable cafes, where the rich and the happy go to
+satisfy their refined tastes? Why not, I say, place your poor-boxes in
+some conspicuous spot, with the simple inscription, 'For the hungry?'"
+
+"The doctor is right!" shouted the guests. "It is an excellent idea;
+every great establishment would show large receipts every day."
+
+"And the little establishments also," replied the doctor. "Ah, believe
+me, my friends, he who has made a modest repast, as well as the opulent
+diner, feels that compassion which is born of a satisfied want or
+pleasure, when he thinks of those who are deprived of the satisfaction
+of this want or this pleasure. Now, then, let me resume: If all the
+proprietors of these restaurants and cafes would follow my counsel,
+having an understanding with the members of benevolent enterprises, and
+would place in some conspicuous spot their poor-boxes, with the words,
+or others equivalent, 'For the hungry,' I am convinced, whether from
+charity, pride, or respect for humanity, you would see alms rain down in
+them to overflowing. For the most selfish man, who has spent a louis or
+more for his dinner, feels, in spite of himself, a painful sense of
+benefits, a sort of bitter after-taste, at the sight of those who
+suffer. A generous alms absolves him in his own eyes, and from a
+hygienic point of view, dear canon, this little act of charity would
+give him a most happy digestion."
+
+"Doctor, I confess myself vanquished!" cried Abbe Ledoux. "I drink, if
+not to the seven deadly sins in general, at least, in particular to
+gluttony."
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Luxury-Gluttony, by Eugene Sue
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