VI
The Baron de Thaller was too practical a man to live in the samehouse, or even in the same district, where his offices werelocated. To dwell in the midst of his business; to be constantlysubjected to the contact of his employes, to the unkindly commentsof a crowd of subordinates; to expose himself to hourly annoyances,to sickening solicitations, to the reclamations and eternalcomplaints of his stockholders and his clients! Pouah! He'd havegiven up the business first. And so, on the very days when he hadestablished the offices of the Mutual Credit in the Rue deQuatre-Septembre, he had purchased a house in the Rue de laPepiniere within a step of the Faubourg St. Honore.
It was a brand-new house, which had never yet been occupied, andwhich had just been erected by a contractor who was almostcelebrated, towards 1866, at the moment of the great transformationsof Paris, when whole blocks were leveled to the ground, and roseagain so rapidly, that one might well wonder whether the masons,instead of a trowel, did not make use of a magician's wand.
This contractor, named Parcimieux, had come from the Limousin in1860 with his carpenter's tools for all fortune, and, in less thansix years, had accumulated, at the lowest estimate, six millionsof francs. Only he was a modest man, and took as much pains toconceal his fortune, and offend no one, as most _parvenus_ do todisplay their wealth, and insult the public.
Though he could hardly sign his name, yet he knew and practisedthe maxim of the Greek philosopher, which is, perhaps, the truesecret of happiness,--hide thy life. And there were no expedientsto which he did not resort to hide it. At the time of his greatestprosperity, for instance, having need of a carriage, he had appliedto the manager of the Petites Voitures Company, and had had builtfor himself two cabs, outwardly similar in every respect to thoseused by the company, but within, most luxuriously upholstered, anddrawn by horses of common appearance, but who could go theirtwenty-five miles in two hours any day. And these he had hired bythe year.
Having his carriage, the worthy builder determined to have, also,his house, his own house, built by himself. But this requiredinfinitely greater precautions still.
"For, as you may imagine," he explained to his friends, "a man doesnot make as much money as I have, without also making many cruel,bitter, and irreconcilable enemies. I have against me all thebuilders who have not succeeded, all the sub-contractors I employ,and who say that I speculate on their poverty, and the thousands ofworkmen who work for me, and swear that I grind them down to thedust. Already they call me brigand, slaver, thief, leech. Whatwould it be, if they saw me living in a beautiful house of my own?They'd swear that I could not possibly have got so rich honestly,and that I must have committed some crimes. Besides, to build mea handsome house on the street would be, in case of a mob, settingup windows for the stones of all the rascals who have been in myemployment."
Such were M. Parcimieux's thoughts, when, as he expressed it, heresolved to build.
A lot was for sale in the Rue de la Pepiniere. He bought it, andat the same time purchased the adjoining house, which heimmediately caused to be torn down. This operation placed in hispossession a vast piece of ground, not very wide, but of greatdepth, stretching, as it did, back to the Rue Labaume. At oncework was begun according to a plan which his architect and himselfhad spent six months in maturing. On the line of the street arosea house of the most modest appearance, two stories in height only,with a very high and very wide carriage-door for the passage ofvehicles. This was to deceive the vulgar eye,--the outside of thecab, as it were. Behind this house, between a spacious court and avast garden was built the residence of which M. Parcimieux haddreamed; and it really was an exceptional building both by theexcellence of the materials used, and by the infinite care whichpresided over the minutest details. The marbles for the vestibuleand the stairs were brought from Africa, Italy, and Corsica. Hesent to Rome for workmen for the mosaics. The joiner andlocksmithing work was intrusted to real artists.
Repeating to every one that he was working for a great foreign lord,whose orders he went to take every morning, he was free to indulgehis most extravagant fancies, without fearing jests or unpleasantremarks.
Poor old man! The day when the last workman had driven in thelast nail, an attack of apoplexy carried him off, without givinghim time to say, "Oh!" Two days after, all his relatives from theLimousin were swooping into Paris like a pack of wolves. Sixmillions to divide: what a godsend! Litigation followed, as amatter of course; and the house was offered for sale under ajudgment.
M. de Thaller bought it for two hundred and seventy-five thousandfrancs,--about one-third what it had cost to build.
A month later he had moved into it; and the expenses which heincurred to furnish it in a style worthy of the building itselfwas the talk of the town. And yet he was not fully satisfiedwith his purchase.
Unlike M. Parcimieux, he had no wish whatever to conceal his wealth.
What! he owned one of those exquisite houses which excite at oncethe wonder and the envy of passers-by, and that house was hidbehind such a common-looking building!
"I must have that shanty pulled down," he said from time to time.
And then he thought of something else; and the "shanty" was stillstanding on that evening, when, after leaving Maxence, M. deTregars presented himself at M. de Thaller's.
The servants had, doubtless, received their instructions; for, assoon as Marius emerged from the porch of the front-house, theporter advanced from his lodge, bent double, his mouth open to hisvery ears by the most obsequious smile.
Without waiting for a question,
"The baron has not yet come home--," he said. "But he cannot bemuch longer away; and certainly the baroness is at home for mylord-marquis. Please, then, give yourself the trouble to pass."
And, standing aside, he struck upon the enormous gong that stoodnear his lodge a single sharp blow, intended to wake up thefootman on duty in the vestibule, and to announce a visitor ofnote. Slowly, but not without quietly observing every thing, M.de Tregars crossed the courtyard, covered with fine sand,--theywould have powdered it with golden dust, if they had dared,--andsurrounded on all sides with bronze baskets, in which beautifulrhododendrons were blossoming.
It was nearly six o'clock. The manager of the Mutual Credit dinedat seven; and the preparations for this important event wereeverywhere apparent. Through the large windows of the dining-roomthe steward could be seen presiding over the setting of the table.The butler was coming up from the cellar, loaded with bottles.Finally, through the apertures of the basement arose the appetizingperfumes of the kitchen.
What enormous business it required to support such a style, todisplay this luxury, which would shame one of those Germanprincelings, who exchanged the crown of their ancestors for aPrussian livery gilded with French gold!--other people's money.
Meantime, the blow struck by the porter on the gong had producedthe desired effect; and the gates of the vestibule seemed to openof their own accord before M. de Tregars as he ascended the stoop.
This vestibule with the splendor of which Mlle. Lucienne had beenso deeply impressed, would, indeed, have been worthy the attentionof an artist, had it been allowed to retain the simple grandeurand the severe harmony which M. Parcimieux's architect had impartedto it.
But M. de Thaller, as he was proud of boasting, had a perfect horrorof simplicity; and, wherever he discovered a vacant space as big ashis hand, he hung a picture, a bronze, or a piece of china, anything and anyhow.
The two footmen were standing when M. de Tregars came in. Withoutasking any question, "Will M. le Marquis please follow me?" saidthe youngest.
And, opening the broad glass doors, he began walking in front ofM. de Tregars, along a staircase with marble railing, the elegantproportions of which were absolutely ruined by a ridiculousprofusion of "objects of art" of all nature, and from all sources.This staircase led to a vast semicircular landing, upon which,between columns of precious marble, opened three wide doors. Thefootman opened the middle one, which l
ed to M. de Thaller'spicture-gallery, a celebrated one in the financial world, andwhich had acquired for him the reputation of an enlightened amateur.
But M. de Tregars had no time to examine this gallery, which,moreover, he already knew well enough. The footman showed himinto the small drawing-room of the baroness, a bijou of a room,furnished in gilt and crimson satin.
"Will M. le Marquis be kind enough to take a seat?" he said. "Irun to notify Mme. le Baronne of M. le Marquis's visit."
The footman uttered these titles of nobility with a singular pomp,and as if some of their lustre was reflected upon himself.Nevertheless, it was evident that "Marquis" jingled to his ear muchmore pleasantly than "Baronne."
Remaining alone, M. de Tregars threw himself upon a seat. Worn outby the emotions of the day, and by an extraordinary contention ofmind, he felt thankful for this moment of respite, which permittedhim, at the moment of a decisive step, to collect all his energyand all his presence of mind.
And after two minutes he was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts,that he started, like a man suddenly aroused from his sleep, atthe sound of an opening door. At the same moment he heard a slightexclamation of surprise, "Ah!"
Instead of the Baroness de Thaller, it was her daughter, Mlle.Cesarine, who had come in.
Stepping forward to the centre of the room, and acknowledging by afamiliar gesture M. de Tregars' most respectful bow,
"You should warn people," she said. "I came here to look for mymother, and it is you I find. Why, you scared me to death. Whata crack! Princess dear!"
And taking the young man's hand, and pressing it to her breast,
"Feel," she added, "how my heart beats."
Younger than Mlle. Gilberte, Mlle. Cesarine de Thaller had areputation for beauty so thoroughly established, that to call itin question would have seemed a crime to her numerous admirers.And really she was a handsome person. Rather tall and well made,she had broad hips, the waist round and supple as a steel rod,and a magnificent throat. Her neck was, perhaps, a little toothick and too short; but upon her robust shoulders was scatteredin wild ringlets the rebellious hair that escaped from her comb.She was a blonde, but of that reddish blonde, almost as dark asmahogany, which Titian admired, and which the handsome Venetiansobtained by means of rather repulsive practices, and by exposingthemselves to the noonday sun on the terraces of their palaces.Her complexion had the gilded hues of amber. Her lips, red asblood, displayed as they opened, teeth of dazzling whiteness. Inher large prominent eyes, of a milky blue, like the Northern skies,laughed the eternal irony of a soul that no longer has faith inany thing. More anxious of her fame than of good taste, she worea dress of doubtful shade, puffed up by means of an extravagantpannier, and buttoned obliquely across the chest, according tothat ridiculous and ungraceful style invented by flat or humpedwomen.
Throwing herself upon a chair, and placing cavalierly one footupon another, so as to display her leg, which was admirable,
"Do you know that it's perfectly stunning to see you here?" shesaid to M. de Tregars. "Just imagine, for a moment, what a facethe Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight will make when he sees you!"
It was her father whom she called thus, since the day when she haddiscovered that there was a German coin called thaler, whichrepresents three francs and sixty-eight centimes in French currency.
"You know, I suppose," she went on, "that papa has just been badlystuck?"
M. de Tregars was excusing himself in vague terms; but it was oneof Mlle. Cesarine's habits never to listen to the answers whichwere made to her questions.
"Favoral," she continued, "papa's cashier, has just started on aninternational picnic. Did you know him?"
"Very little."
"An old fellow, always dressed like a country sexton, and with aface like an undertaker. And the Baron Three Francs Sixty-eight,an old bird, was fool enough to be taken in by him! For he wastaken in. He had a face like a man whose chimney is on fire, whenhe came to tell us, mamma and myself, that Favoral had gone offwith twelve millions."
"And has he really carried off that enormous sum?"
"Not entire, of course, because it was not since day beforeyesterday only that he began digging into the Mutual Credit's pile.There were years that this venerable old swell was leading asomewhat-variegated existence, in company with rather-funny ladies,you know. And as he was not exactly calculated to be adored at par,why, it cost papa's stockholders a pretty lively premium. But,anyhow, he must have carried off a handsome nugget."
And, bouncing to the piano, she began an accompaniment loud enoughto crack the window-panes, singing at the same time the popularrefrain of the "Young Ladies of Pautin":
Cashier, you've got the bag; Quick on your little nag, And then, ho, ho, for Belgium!
Any one but Marius de Tregars would have been doubtless strangelysurprised at Mlle. de Thaller's manners. But he had known her forsome time already: he was familiar with her past life, her habits,her tastes, and her pretensions. Until the age of fifteen, Mlle.Cesarine had remained shut up in one of those pleasant Parisianboarding-schools, where young ladies are initiated into the greatart of the toilet, and from which they emerge armed with thegayest theories, knowing how to see without seeming to look, andto lie boldly without blushing; in a word, ripe for society. Thedirectress of the boarding-school, a lady of the ton, who had metwith reverses, and who was a good deal more of a dressmaker thana teacher, said of Mlle. Cesarine, who paid her three thousandfive hundred francs a year,
"She gives the greatest hopes for the future; and I shall certainlymake a superior woman of her."
But the opportunity was not allowed her. The Baroness de Thallerdiscovered, one morning, that it was impossible for her to livewithout her daughter, and that her maternal heart was lacerated bya separation which was against the sacred laws of nature. She tookher home, therefore, declaring that nothing, henceforth, not evenher marriage, should separate them, and that she should finishherself the education of the dear child. From that moment, in fact,whoever saw the Baroness de Thaller would also see Mlle. Cesarinefollowing in her wake.
A girl of fifteen, discreet and well-trained, is a convenientchaperon; a chaperon which enables a woman to show herself boldlywhere she might not have dared to venture alone. In presence ofa mother followed by her daughter, disconcerted slander hesitates,and dares not speak.
Under the pretext that Cesarine was still but a child and of noconsequence, Mme. de Thaller dragged her everywhere,--to the boisand to the races, visiting and shopping, to balls and parties, tothe watering-places and the seashore, to the restaurant, and toall the "first nights" at the Palais Royal, the Bouffes, theVarietes, and the Delassements. It was, therefore, especially atthe theatre, that the education of Mlle. de Thaller, so happilycommenced, had received the finishing touch. At sixteen she wasthoroughly familiar with the repertoire of the genre theatres,imitated Schneider far better than ever did Silly, and sang withsurprising intonations and astonishing gestures Blanche d'Autigny'ssuccessful moods, and Theresa's most wanton verses.
Between times, she studied the fashion papers, and formed herstyle in reading the "Vie Parisienne," whose most enigmatic articleshad no allusions sufficiently obscure to escape her penetration.
She learned to ride on horseback, to fence and to shoot, anddistinguished herself at pigeon-matches. She kept a betting-book,played Trente et Quarante at Monaco; and Baccarat had no secretsfor her. At Trouville she astonished the natives with the startlingnovelty of her bathing-costumes; and, when she found herself thecentre of a reasonable circle of lookers-on, she threw herself inthe water with a pluck that drew upon her the applause of thebathing-masters. She could smoke a cigarette, empty nearly a glassof champagne; and once her mother was obliged to bring her home,and put her quick to bed, because she had insisted upon tryingabsinthe, and her conversation had become somewhat too eccentric.
Leading such a life, it was difficult that public opinion shouldalways spare Mme.
and Mlle. de Thaller. There were sceptics whoinsinuated that this steadfast friendship between mother and daughterhad very much the appearance of the association of two women boundtogether by the complicity of a common secret. A broker told how,one evening, or one night rather, for it was nearly two o'clock,happening to pass in front of the Moulin-Rouge, he had seen theBaroness and Mlle. Cesarine coming out, accompanied by a gentleman,to him unknown, but who, he was quite sure, was not the Baron deThaller.
A certain journey which mother and daughter had undertaken in theheart of the winter, and which had lasted not less than two months,had been generally attributed to an imprudence, the consequencesof which it had become impossible to conceal. They had been inItaly, they said when they returned; but no one had seen themthere. Yet, as Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller's mode of life was, afterall, the same as that of a great many women who passed for beingperfectly proper, as there was no positive or palpable fact broughtagainst them, as no name was mentioned, many people shrugged theirshoulders, and replied,
"Pure slanders."
And why not, since the Baron de Thaller, the most interested party,held himself satisfied?
To the ill-advised friends who ventured some allusions to the publicrumors, he replied, according to his humor,
"My daughter can play the mischief generally, if she sees fit. AsI shall give a dowry of a million, she will always find a husband."
Or else, "And what of it? Do not American young ladies enjoyunlimited freedom? Are they not constantly seen going out withyoung gentlemen, or walking or traveling alone? Are they, for allthat, less virtuous than our girls, who are kept under such closewatch? Do they make less faithful wives, or less excellent mothers?Hypocrisy is not virtue."
To a certain extent, the Manager of the Mutual Credit was right.
Already Mlle. de Thaller had had to decide upon several quitesuitable offers of marriage and she had squarely refused them all.
"A husband!" she had answered each time. "Thank you, none for me.I have good enough teeth to eat up my dowry myself. Later, we'llsee,--when I've cut my wisdom teeth, and I am tired of my bachelorlife."
She did not seem near getting tired of it, though she pretendedthat she had no more illusions, was thoroughly blasee, hadexhausted every sensation, and that life henceforth had no surprisein reserve for her. Her reception of M. de Tregars was, therefore,one of Mlle. Cesarine's least eccentricities, as was also thatsudden fancy; to apply to the situation one of the most idioticrondos of her repertoires:
"Cashier, you've got the bag; Quick on your little nag"
Neither did she spare him a single verse: and, when she stopped,
"I see with pleasure," said M. de Tregars, "that the embezzlementof which your father has just been the victim does not in any wayoffend your good humor."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Would you have me cry," she said, "because the stockholders of theBaron Three Francs Sixty-eight have been swindled? Consoleyourself: they are accustomed to it."
And, as M. de Tregars made no answer,
"And in all that," she went on, "I see no one to pity except thewife and daughter of that old stick Favoral."
"They are, indeed, much to be pitied."
"They say that the mother is a good old thing."
"She is an excellent person."
"And the daughter? Costeclar was crazy about her once. He madeeyes like a carp in love, as he told us, to mamma and myself,'She is an angel, mesdames, an angel! And when I have given her alittle chic!' Now tell me, is she really as good looking as allthat?"
"She is quite good looking."
"Better looking than me?"
"It is not the same style, mademoiselle."
Mlle. de Thaller had stopped singing; but she had not left thepiano. Half turned towards M. de Tregars, she ran her fingerslistlessly over the keys, striking a note here and there, as if topunctuate her sentences.
"Ah, how nice!" she exclaimed, "and, above all, how gallant!Really, if you venture often on such declarations, mothers would bevery wrong to trust you alone with their daughters."
"You did not understand me right, mademoiselle."
"Perfectly right, on the contrary. I asked you if I was betterlooking than Mlle. Favoral; and you replied to me, that it was notthe same style."
"It is because, mademoiselle, there is indeed no possible comparisonbetween you, who are a wealthy heiress, and whose life is aperpetual enchantment, and a poor girl, very humble, and very modest,who rides in the omnibus, and who makes her dresses herself."
A contemptuous smile contracted Mlle. Cesarine's lips.
"Why not?" she interrupted. "Men have such funny tastes!"
And, turning around suddenly, she began another rondo, no lessfamous than the first, and borrowed, this time, from the third actof the Petites-Blanchisseuses:
"What matters the quality? Beauty alone takes the prize Women before man must rise, And claim perfect equality."
Very attentively M. de Tregars was observing her. He had not beenthe dupe of the great surprise she had manifested when she foundhim in the little parlor.
"She knew I was here," he thought; "and it is her mother who hassent her to me. But why? and for what purpose?"
"With all that," she resumed, "I see the sweet Mme. Favoral and hermodest daughter in a terribly tight place. What a 'bust,' marquis!"
"They have a great deal of courage, mademoiselle."
"Naturally. But, what is better, the daughter has a splendid voice:at least, so her professor told Costeclar. Why should she not go onthe stage? Actresses make lots of money, you know. Papa'll helpher, if she wishes. He has a great deal of influence in thetheatres, papa has."
"Mme. and Mlle. Favoral have friends."
"Ah, yes! Costeclar."
"Others besides."
"I beg your pardon; but it seems to me that this one will do tobegin with. He is gallant, Costeclar, extremely gallant, and,moreover, generous as a lord. Why should he not offer to thatyouthful and timid damsel a nice little position in mahogany androsewood? That way, we should have the pleasure of meeting heraround the lake."
And she began singing again, with a slight variation,
"Manon, who, before the war, Carried clothes for a living, Now for her gains is trusting To that insane Costeclar."
"Ah, that big red-headed girl is terribly provoking!" thought M.de Tregars.
But, as he did not as yet understand very clearly what she wishedto come to, he kept on his guard, and remained cold as marble.
Already she had again turned towards him.
"What a face you are making!" she said. "Are you jealous of thefiery Costeclar, by chance?"
"No, mademoiselle, no!"
"Then, why don't you want him to succeed in his love? But he will,you'll see! Five hundred francs on Costeclar! Do you take it?No? I am sorry. It's twenty-five napoleons lost for me. I knowvery well that Mlle.--what's her name?"
"Gilberte."
"Hallo! a nice name for a cashier's daughter! I am aware that sheonce sent that poor Costeclar and his offer to--Chaillot. But shehad resources then; whilst now--It's stupid as it can be; butpeople have to eat!"
"There are still women, mademoiselle, capable of starving to death."
M. de Tregars now felt satisfied. It seemed evident to him thatthey had somehow got wind of his intentions; that Mlle. de Thallerhad been sent to feel the ground; and that she only attacked Mlle.Gilberte in order to irritate him, and compel him, in a moment ofanger, to declare himself.
"Bash!" she said, "Mlle. Favoral is like all the others. If shehad to select between the amiable Costeclar and a charcoal furnace,it is not the furnace she would take."
At all times, Marius de Tregars disliked Mlle. Cesarine to a supremedegree; but at this moment, without the pressing desire he had tosee the Baron and Baroness de Thaller, he would have withdrawn.
"Believe me, mademoiselle," he uttered coldly. "Spare a poor girlstricken by a most cruel misfortune. Worse might happen to you."
"To me! And what the mischief do you suppose can happen me?"
"Who knows?"
She started to her feet so violently, that she upset the piano-stool.
"Whatever it may be," she exclaimed, "I say in advance, I am glad!"
And as M. de Tregars turned his head in some surprise,
"Yes, I am glad!" she repeated, "because it would be a change; andI am sick of the life I lead. Yes, sick to be eternally andinvariably happy of that same dreary happiness. And to think thatthere are idiots who believe that I amuse myself, and who envy myfate! To think, that, when I ride through the streets, I hear girlsexclaim, whilst looking at me, 'Isn't she lucky?' Little fools!I'd like to see them in my place. They live, they do. Theirpleasures are not all alike. They have anxieties and hopes, upsand downs, hours of rain and hours of sunshine; whilst I--alwaysdead calm! the barometer always at 'Set fair.' What a bore! Doyou know what I did to-day? Exactly the same thing as yesterday;and to-morrow I'll do the same thing as to-day.
"A good dinner is a good thing; but always the same dinner, withoutextras or additions--pouah! Too many truffles. I want somecorned beef and cabbage. I know the bill of fare by heart, you see.In winter, theatres and balls; in summer, races and the seashore;summer and winter, shopping, rides to the bois, calls, tryingdresses, perpetual adoration by mother's friends, all of thembrilliant and gallant fellows to whom the mere thought of my dowrygives the jaundice. Excuse me, if I yawn: I am thinking of theirconversations.
"And to think," she went on, "that such will be my existence untilI make up my mind to take a husband! For I'll have to come to ittoo. The Baron Three Sixty-eight will present to me some sort ofa swell, attracted by my money. I'll answer, 'I'd just as soonhave him as any other,' and he will be admitted to the honor ofpaying his attentions to me. Every morning he will send me asplendid bouquet: every evening, after bank-hours, he'll come alongwith fresh kid gloves and a white vest. During the afternoon, heand papa will pull each other's hair out on the subject of the dowry.At last the happy day will arrive. Can't you see it from here?Mass with music, dinner, ball. The Baron Three Sixty-eight willnot spare me a single ceremony. The marriage of the manager of theMutual Credit must certainly be an advertisement. The papers willpublish the names of the bridesmaids and of the guests.
"To be sure, papa will have a face a yard long; because he willhave been compelled to pay the dowry the day before. Mamma willbe all upset at the idea of becoming a grandmother. Thebridegroom will be in a wretched humor, because his boots will betoo tight; and I'll look like a goose, because I'll be dressedin white; and white is a stupid color, which is not at all becomingto me. Charming family gathering, isn't it? Two weeks later, myhusband will be sick of me, and I'll be disgusted with him. Aftera month, we'll be at daggers' points. He'll go back to his cluband his mistresses; and I--I shall have conquered the right to goout alone; and I'll begin again going to the bois, to balls, toraces, wherever my mother goes. I'll spend an enormous amount ofmoney on my dress, and I'll make debts which papa will pay."
Though any thing might be expected of Mlle. Cesarine, still M.de Tregars seemed visibly astonished. And she, laughing at hissurprise,
"That's the invariable programme," she went on; "and that's why Isay I'm glad at the idea of a change, whatever it may be. You findfault with me for not pitying Mlle. Gilberte. How could I, sinceI envy her? She is happy, because her future is not settled, laidout, fixed in advance. She is poor; but she is free. She is twenty;she is pretty; she has an admirable voice; she can go on the stageto-morrow, and be, before six months, one of the pet actresses ofParis. What a life then! Ah, that is the one I dream, the one Iwould have selected, had I been mistress of my destiny."
But she was interrupted by the noise of the opening door.
The Baroness de Thaller appeared. As she was, immediately afterdinner, to go to the opera, and afterwards to a party given by theViscountess de Bois d'Ardon, she was in full dress. She wore adress, cut audaciously low in the neck, of very light gray satin,trimmed with bands of cherry-colored silk edged with lace. In herhair, worn high over her head, she had a bunch of fuchsias, theflexible stems of which, fastened by a large diamond star, traileddown to her very shoulders, white and smooth as marble.
But, though she forced herself to smile, her countenance was notthat of festive days; and the glance which she cast upon herdaughter and Marius de Tregars was laden with threats. In a voiceof which she tried in vain to control the emotion,
"How very kind of you, marquis," she began, "to respond so soon tomy invitation of this morning! I am really distressed to have keptyou waiting; but I was dressing. After what has happened to M. deThaller, it is absolutely indispensable that I should go out, showmyself: otherwise our enemies will be going around to-morrow, sayingeverywhere that I am in Belgium, preparing lodgings for my husband."
And, suddenly changing her tone,
"But what was that madcap Cesarine telling you?" she asked.
It was with a profound surprise that M. de Tregars discovered thatthe entente cordiale which he suspected between the mother anddaughter did not exist, at least at this moment.
Veiling under a jesting tone the strange conjectures which theunexpected discovery aroused within him,
"Mlle. Cesarine," he replied, "who is much to be pitied, was tellingme all her troubles."
She interrupted him.
"Do not take the trouble to tell a story, M. le Marquis," she said."Mamma knows it as well as yourself; for she was listening at the door."
"Cesarine!" exclaimed Mme. de Thaller.
"And, if she came in so suddenly, it is because she thought it wasfully time to cut short my confidences."
The face of the baroness became crimson.
"The child is mad!" she said.
The child burst out laughing.
"That's my way," she went on. "You should not have sent me here bychance, and against my wish. You made me do it: don't complain.You were sure that I had but to appear, and M. de Tregars wouldfall at my feet. I appeared, and--you saw the effect through thekeyhole, didn't you?"
Her features contracted, her eyes flashing, twisting her lacehandkerchief between her fingers loaded with rings,
"It is unheard of," said Mme. de Thaller. "She has certainly losther head."
Dropping her mother an ironical courtesy,
"Thanks for the compliment!" said the young lady. "Unfortunately,I never was more completely in possession of all the good sense Imay boast of than I am now, dear mamma. What were you telling mea moment since? 'Run, the Marquis de Tregars is coming to askyour hand: it's all settled.' And what did I answer? 'No use totrouble myself: if, instead of one million, papa were to give metwo, four millions, indeed all the millions paid by France toPrussia, M. de Tregars would not have me for a wife.'"
And, looking Marius straight in the face,
"Am I not right, M. le Marquis?" she asked. "And isn't it a factthat you wouldn't have me at any price? Come, now, your hand uponyour heart, answer."
M. de Tregars' situation was somewhat embarrassing between thesetwo women, whose anger was equal, though it manifested itself ina different way. Evidently it was a discussion begun before, whichwas now continued in his presence.
"I think, mademoiselle," he began, "that you have been slanderingyourself gratuitously."
"Oh, no! I swear it to you," she replied; "and, if mamma had nothappened in, you would have heard much more. But that was not ananswer."
And, as M. de Tregars said nothing, she turned towards the baroness,
"Ah, ah! you see," she said. "Who was crazy,--you, or I? Ah!you imagine here that money is everything, that every thing is forsale, and that every thing can be bought. Well, no! There arestill men, who, for all the gold in the world, would not give theirname to Cesarine de Thaller. It is strange; b
ut it is so, dearmamma, and we must make up our mind to it."
Then turning towards Marius, and bearing upon each syllable, as ifafraid that the allusion might escape him,
"The men of whom I speak," she added, "marry the girls who canstarve to death."
Knowing her daughter well enough to be aware that she could notimpose silence upon her, the Baroness de Thaller had dropped upona chair. She was trying hard to appear indifferent to what herdaughter was saying; but at every moment a threatening gesture, ora hoarse exclamation, betrayed the storm that raged within her.
"Go on, poor foolish child!" she said,--"go on!"
And she did go on.
"Finally, were M. de Tregars willing to have me, I would refusehim myself, because, then--"
A fugitive blush colored her cheeks, her bold eyes vacillated, and,dropping her voice,
"Because, then," she added, "he would no longer be what he is;because I feel that fatally I shall despise the husband whom papawill buy for me. And, if I came here to expose myself to an affrontwhich I foresaw, it is because I wanted to make sure of a fact ofwhich a word of Costeclar, a few days ago, had given me an idea,--of a fact which you do not, perhaps, suspect, dear mother, despiteyour astonishing perspicacity. I wanted to find out M. de Tregars'secret; and I have found it out."
M. de Tregars had come to the Thaller mansion with a plan wellsettled in advance. He had pondered long before deciding what hewould do, and what he would say, and how he would begin the decisivestruggle. What had taken place showed him the idleness of hisconjectures, and, as a natural consequence, upset his plans. Toabandon himself to the chances of the hour, and to make the bestpossible use of them, was now the wisest thing to do.
"Give me credit, mademoiselle," he uttered, "for sufficientpenetration to have perfectly well discerned your intentions.There was no need of artifice, because I have nothing to conceal.You had but to question me, I would have answered you frankly,'Yes, it is true I love Mlle. Gilberte; and before a month shewill be Marquise de Tregars.'"
Mme. de Thaller, at those words, had started to her feet, pushingback her arm-chair so violently, that it rolled all the way to thewall.
"What!" she exclaimed, "you marry Gilberte Favoral,--you!"
"I--yes."
"The daughter of a defaulting cashier, a dishonored man whom justicepursues and the galleys await!"
"Yes!" And in an accent that caused a shiver to run over the whiteshoulders of Mme. de Thaller,
"Whatever may have been," he uttered, "Vincent Favoral's crime;whether he has or has not stolen, the twelve millions which arewanting from the funds of the Mutual Credit; whether he is aloneguilty, or has accomplices; whether he be a knave, or a fool, animpostor, or a dupe,--Mlle. Gilberte is not responsible."
"You know the Favoral family, then?"
"Enough to make their cause henceforth my own."
The agitation of the baroness was so great, that she did not evenattempt to conceal it.
"A nobody's daughter!" she said.
"I love her."
"Without a sou!"
Mlle. Cesarine made a superb gesture.
"Why, that's the very reason why a man may marry her!" she exclaimed,and, holding out her hand to M. de Tregars,
"What you do here is well," she added, "very well."
There was a wild look in the eyes of the baroness.
"Mad, unhappy child!" she exclaimed. "If your father should hear!"
"And who, then, would report our conversation to him? M. de Tregars?He would not do such a thing. You? You dare not."
Drawing herself up to her fullest height, her breast swelling withanger, her head thrown back, her eyes flashing,
"Cesarine," ordered Mme. de Thaller, her arm extended towards thedoor--"Cesarine, leave the room; I command you."
But motionless in her place the girl cast upon her mother a lookof defiance.
"Come, calm yourself," she said in a tone of crushing irony, "oryou'll spoil your complexion for the rest of the evening. Do Icomplain? do I get excited? And yet whose fault is it, if honormakes it a duty for me to cry 'Beware!' to an honest man who wishesto marry me? That Gilberte should get married: that she shouldbe very happy, have many children, darn her husband's stockings,and skim her _pot-au-feu_,--that is her part in life. Ours, dearmother,--that which you have taught me--is to laugh and have fun,all the time, night and day, till death."
A footman who came in interrupted her. Handing a card to Mme. deThaller,
"The gentleman who gave it to me," he said, "is in the large parlor."
The baroness had become very pale.
"Oh!" she said turning the card between her fingers,--"oh!"
Then suddenly she ran out exclaiming,
"I'll be back directly."
An embarrassing, painful silence followed, as it was inevitable thatit would, the Baroness de Thaller's precipitate departure.
Mlle. Cesarine had approached the mantel-piece. She was leaningher elbow upon it, her forehead on her hand, all palpitating andexcited. Intimidated for, perhaps, the first time in her life,she turned away her great blue eyes, as if afraid that they shouldbetray a reflex of her thoughts.
As to M. de Tregars, he remained at his place, not having one whittoo much of that power of self-control, which is acquired by a longexperience of the world, to conceal his impressions. If he had afault, it was certainly not self-conceit; but Mlle. de Thaller hadbeen too explicit and too clear to leave him a doubt. All shehad said could be comprised in one sentence,
"My parents were in hopes that I would become your wife: I hadjudged you well enough to understand their error. Precisely becauseI love you I acknowledge myself unworthy of you and I wish you toknow that if you had asked my hand,--the hand of a girl who hasa dowry of a million--I would have ceased to esteem you."
That such a feeling should have budded and blossomed in Mlle.Cesarine's soul, withered as it was by vanity, and blunted bypleasure was almost a miracle. It was, at any rate, an astonishingproof of love which she gave; and Marius de Tregars would not havebeen a man, if he had not been deeply moved by it. Suddenly,
"What a miserable wretch I am!" she uttered.
"You mean unhappy," said M. de Tregars gently.
"What can you think of my sincerity? You must, doubtless, find itstrange, impudent, grotesque."
He lifted his hand in protest; for she gave him no time to put ina word.
"And yet," she went on, "this is not the first time that I am assailedby sinister ideas, and that I feel ashamed of myself. I wasconvinced once that this mad existence of mine is the only enviableone, the only one that can give happiness. And now I discover thatit is not the right path which I have taken, or, rather, whichI have been made to take. And there is no possibility of retracingmy steps."
She turned pale, and, in an accent of gloomy despair,
"Every thing fails me," she said. "It seems as though I were rollinginto a bottomless abyss, without a branch or a tuft of grass tocling to. Around me, emptiness, night, chaos. I am not yet twentyand it seems to me that I have lived thousands of years, andexhausted every sensation. I have seen every thing, learned everything, experienced every thing; and I am tired of every thing, andsatiated and nauseated. You see me looking like a brainless hoyden,I sing, I jest, I talk slang. My gayety surprises everybody. Inreality, I am literally tired to death. What I feel I could notexpress, there are no words to render absolute disgust. Sometimes Isay to myself, 'It is stupid to be so sad. What do you need? Areyou not young, handsome, rich?' But I must need something, or elseI would not be thus agitated, nervous, anxious, unable to stay inone place, tormented by confused aspirations, and by desires whichI cannot formulate. What can I do? Seek oblivion in pleasure anddissipation? I try, and I succeed for an hour or so; but thereaction comes, and the effect vanishes, like froth from champagne.The lassitude returns; and, whilst outwardly I continue to laugh,I shed within tears of blood which scald my heart. What is tobecome of me, with
out a memory in the past, or a hope in the future,upon which to rest my thought?"
And bursting into tears,
"Oh, I am wretchedly unhappy!" she exclaimed; "and I wish I wasdead."
M. de Tregars rose, feeling more deeply moved than he would, perhaps,have liked to acknowledge.
"I was laughing at you only a moment since," he said in his graveand vibrating voice. "Pardon me, mademoiselle. It is with the utmostsincerity, and from the innermost depths of my soul, that I pityyou."
She was looking at him with an air of timid doubt, big tearstrembling between her long eyelashes.
"Honest?" she asked.
"Upon my honor."
"And you will not go with too poor an opinion of me?"
"I shall retain the firm belief that when you were yet but a child,you were spoiled by insane theories."
Gently and sadly she was passing her hand over her forehead.
"Yes, that's it," she murmured. "How could I resist examples comingfrom certain persons? How could I help becoming intoxicated whenI saw myself, as it were, in a cloud of incense when I heard nothingbut praises and applause? And then there is the money, whichdepraves when it comes in a certain way."
She ceased to speak; but the silence was soon again broken by aslight noise, which came from the adjoining room.
Mechanically, M. de Tregars looked around him. The little parlorin which he found himself was divided from the main drawing-roomof the house by a tall and broad door, closed only by heavy curtains,which had remained partially drawn. Now, such was the dispositionof the mirrors in the two rooms, that M. de Tregars could seealmost the whole of the large one reflected in the mirror over themantelpiece of the little parlor. A man of suspicious appearance,and wearing wretched clothes, was standing in it.
And, the more M. de Tregars examined him, the more it seemed tohim that he had already seen somewhere that uneasy countenance,that anxious glance, that wicked smile flitting upon flat and thinlips.
But suddenly the man bowed very low. It was probable that Mme. deThaller, who had gone around through the hall to reach the grandparlor, must be coming in; and in fact she almost immediatelyappeared within the range of the glass. She seemed much agitated;and, with a finger upon her lips, she was recommending to the manto be prudent, and to speak low. It was therefore in a whisper,and such a low whisper that not even a vague murmur reached thelittle parlor, that the man uttered a few words. They were suchthat the baroness started back as if she had seen a precipice yawningat her feet; and by this action it was easy to understand that shemust have said,
"Is it possible?"
With the voice which still could not be heard, but with a gesturewhich could be seen, the man evidently replied,
"It is so, I assure you!"
And leaning towards Mme. de Thaller, who seemed in no wise shockedto feel this repulsive personage's lips almost touching her ear,he began speaking to her.
The surprise which this species of vision caused to M. de Tregarswas great, but did not keep him from reflecting what could be themeaning of this scene. How came this suspicious-looking man tohave obtained access, without difficulty, into the grand parlor?Why had the baroness, on receiving his card, turned whiter than thelaces on her dress? What news had he brought, which had made sucha deep impression? What was he saying that seemed at once toterrify and to delight Mme. de Thaller?
But soon she interrupted the man, beckoned to him to wait,disappeared for a minute; and, when she came in again, she held inher hand a package of bank-notes, which she began counting uponthe parlor-table.
She counted twenty-five, which, so far as M. de Tregars could judge,must have been hundred-franc notes. The man took them, counted themover, slipped them into his pocket with a grin of satisfaction, andthen seemed disposed to retire.
The baroness detained him, however; and it was she now, who, leaningtowards him, commenced to explain to him, or rather, as far as herattitude showed, to ask him something. It must have been a seriousmatter; for he shook his head, and moved his arms, as if he meantto say, "The deuse, the deuse!"
The strangest suspicions flashed across M. de Tregars' mind. Whatwas that bargain to which the mirror made him thus an accidentalwitness? For it was a bargain: there could be no mistake about it.The man, having received a mission, had fulfilled it, and had cometo receive the price of it. And now a new commission was offeredto him.
But M. de Tregars' attention was now called off by Mlle. Cesarine.Shaking off the torpor which for a moment had overpowered her,
"But why fret and worry?" she said, answering, rather, the objectionsof her own mind than addressing herself to M. de Tregars. "Thingsare just as they are, and I cannot undo them.
"Ah! if the mistakes of life were like soiled clothes, which areallowed to accumulate in a wardrobe, and which are all sent out atonce to the wash. But nothing washes the past, not even repentance,whatever they may say. There are some ideas which should be setaside. A prisoner should not allow himself to think of freedom.
"And yet," she added, shrugging her shoulders, "a prisoner hasalways the hope of escaping; whereas I--" Then, making a visibleeffort to resume her usual manner,
"Bash!" she said, "that's enough sentiment for one day; and insteadof staying here, boring you to death, I ought to go and dress; forI am going to the opera with my sweet mamma, and afterwards to theball. You ought to come. I am going to wear a stunning dress.The ball is at Mme. de Bois d'Ardon's,--one of our friends, aprogressive woman. She has a smoking-room for ladies. What doyou think of that? Come, will you go? We'll drink champagne,and we'll laugh. No? Zut then, and my compliments to your family."
But, at the moment of leaving the room, her heart failed her.
"This is doubtless the last time I shall ever see you, M. deTregars," she said. "Farewell! You know now why I, who have adowry of a million, I envy Gilberte Favoral. Once more farewell.And, whatever happiness may fall to your lot in life, rememberthat Cesarine has wished it all to you."
And she went out at the very moment when the Baroness de Thallerreturned.