CHAPTER XXII
THE SECRET OUT
Louis Rene Chaussegros de Lery, that model of blue-blooded elegance, wasnot the person to encourage any plebeian in basking in the smiles ofaristocratic society. There was an inflexible honour in him, as well aspride, which was desperately shocked by the contrivings of Lecour. Hetherefore detailed the story, without any heat but without any mercy, tothe mess-table of the company of Villeroy.
Two or three mornings later, Dominique came into Germain's sittingchamber at Troyes and taking up his Master's service sword lookedclosely at it as if to examine the polish on the goldwork. Such was hiscustom when he had something special to say. Dominique's pieces ofinformation were invariably valuable. Germain therefore looked up fromthe comedy he was reading and gave attention. Dominique related brieflythe rumour just come from Chalons: A Guardsman of the Noailles hadrelated it to a comrade in the presence of his servant, and the servanthad hurried to communicate it, with many questions, to Dominique.
Germain paled, yet only for an instant. He laughed at the Auvergnat, whosnorted apologetically--
"As if Monsieur _looked_ like a pedlar!"
"This is a righteous punishment for being born far away, Dominique," heexclaimed; "all colonials must be either mulattoes or cheats; the nexttime I am born it shall be in Chalons."
There was no parade that day on account of a _fete_.
He dressed himself in exactly as leisurely fashion as he had previouslyintended and ordered a hack-horse to take him to Versailles. So far hewas acting; the world and Dominique his imaginary audience.
Only when he got out of Troyes and, having left the beautiful oldGothic-cathedralled town some distance behind, was speeding along thehigh-road, did he, for the first time, feel himself sufficiently aloneto face his thoughts. With a great rush of vision he seemed to see thewhole world of mankind rising against him--in its centre the form andface of a scornful courtier--_the_ Repentigny, withering his pretensionsby one contemptuous glance, to the applause of the Oeil de Boeuf. He sawthe look of Madame l'Etiquette, the ribaldry of acquaintances atVersailles, the studious oblivion of the Princess de Poix, d'Estaing,Bellecour, and even Grancey; the mess-table derisive over the career ofthe pseudo-noble; Major Collinot striking his name from the list of thecompany; his arrest by Guardsmen disgusted at having to touch him; thestony visages of the court-martial; the Bastille; the oar and chain ofthe galleys. Truly they made no pleasant fate. Behind these, a whitefigure, veiled in a mist of tears, at whose face he dared notlook--deceived by her knight, contaminated by his disgrace, her visionof honour shattered, heart-broken, desolate, forbidden to him for everby the law which changeth not, of outraged caste.
"Alas! that it all should lead to such an end," he murmured.
By evening he was in Paris, and mechanically went to his old lodgingswhere he tried to compose himself. A supper was brought which he leftunnoticed on the table. From time to time he would rise and walk aboutthe room, feverishly revolving events and fears.
"And these people," he exclaimed, "will dare to say that I am of a lowernature than they. In what am I not noble? in what not their equal? Havethey not, for an entire year, approved of me, deferred to me, imitatedme? What is this miserable _noblesse_? Have I not seen that it is thegreatest boors that have the most claim to it. If it consists inantiquity, where are the ancient gentry?--a remnant of pauper ploughmenrotting on their driblets of land. If it lies in title, what is sodivine in the rewarded panderers to some unclean King? If it isgenealogy and parchments, with what mutual truth do they not sneer away,and tell their tales upon, each other's lying pedigrees? In what senseam I less well-made, less brave, nay, less truthful, than that cringingrout at Versailles? Yes, all of you! the unbreakable word of my oldfather encloses more real nobility than the entirety of your asininestruts and proclamations? We shall see, too, whether _noblesse_ isnecessary to courage, for here and now I defy you all and all yourpowers!"
A knock interrupted. It was the _concierge_, who handed him a card.Without looking at it, Lecour replied--
"Tell him I am ill and cannot be seen."
The words upon the card might well have produced his answer. When thedoor was shut he glanced at it, started, and held it in his hands,fascinated by apprehension. It read--
"Le Marquis de Chartier de Lotbiniere."
In the name he recognised that of his father's patron.
"It is clear I must leave this place," thought he; and then it flashedupon him that de Lotbiniere must have intended to call on _the otherRepentigny_.
"Yes, he would lodge here. Without doubt the reason this is deBailleul's resort is that it is a meeting-place for Canadians."
Putting on his hat and cloak he went down to the entrance, and inpassing out said as if casually to the _concierge_--
"Has the Marquis de Repentigny entered yet?"
"Yes, sir," the man returned.
Germain started out into the night, not knowing where to go. It wasabout nine o'clock and dark overhead, but the narrow towering streets ofold Paris possessed a rude system of lighting and the life at least of agreat city, so that he felt less lonely than in his rooms, and walked onand on for several hours.