CHAPTER XXIII -- A MAN OF NOBLE SENTIMENT
There was a silence between the two for a little after they came outfrom Petullo's distracted household. With a chilling sentiment towardshis new acquaintance, whom he judged the cause of the unhappy woman'sstate, Count Victor waited for the excuse he knew inevitable. He couldnot see the Chamberlain's face, for the night was dark now; the tide,unseen, was running up on the beach of the bay, lights were burning inthe dwellings of the little town.
"M. Montaiglon," at last said the Chamberlain in a curious voice wherefeelings the most deep appeared to strive together, "yon's a tragedy, ifyou like."
"_Comment?_" said the Count. He was not prepared for an opening quitelike this.
"Well," said the Chamberlain, "you saw it for yourself; you are not amole like Petullo the husband. By God! I would be that brute's death ifhe were thirty years younger, and made of anything else than sawdust.It's a tragedy in there, and look at this burgh!--like the grave but forthe lights of it; rural, plodding, unambitious, ignorant--and the lastplace on earth you might seek in for a story so peetiful as that inthere. My heart's wae, wae for that woman; I saw her face was like acorp when we went in first, though she put a fair front on to us. Awoman in a hundred; a brave woman, few like her, let me tell you, M.Montaiglon, and heartbroken by that rat she's married on. I could greetto think on all her trials. You saw she was raised somewhat; you saw Ihave some influence in that quarter?"
For his life Count Victor could make no reply, so troubled was his mindwith warring thoughts of Olivia betrayed, perhaps, to a debauchee _sans_heart and common pot-house decency; of whether in truth this was thedebauchee to such depths as he suggested, or a man in a false positionthrough the stress of things around him.
The Chamberlain went on as in a meditation. "Poor Kate! poor Kate! Wewere bairns together, M. Montaiglon, innocent bairns, and happy, twentyyears syne, and I will not say but what in her maidenhood there was somewarmth between us, so that I know her well. She was compelled by herrelatives to marriage with our parchment friend yonder, and there youhave the start of what has been hell on earth for her. The man has notthe soul of a louse, and as for her, she's the finest gold! You wouldsee that I was the cause of her swoon?"
"Unhappy creature!" said Montaiglon, beginning to fear he had wrongedthis good gentleman.
"You may well say it, M. Montaiglon. It is improper, perhaps, that Ishould expose to a stranger the skeleton of that house, but I'm feelingwhat happened just now too much to heed a convention." He sighedprofoundly. "I have had influence with the good woman, as you would see;for years I've had it, because I was her only link with the gay worldshe was born to be an ornament in, and the only one free to be trustedwith the tale of her misery. Well, you know--you are a man of the world,M. Montaiglon--you know the dangers of such a correspondence between aperson of my reputation, that is none of the best, because I have beenless a hypocrite than most, and a lady in her position. It's a gossipingcommunity this, long-lugged and scandal-loving like all communitiesof its size; it is not the Faubourg St. Honore, where intrigues go onbehind fans and never an eye cocked or a word said about it; and I'llnot deny but there have been scandalous and cruel things said about thelady and myself. Now, as God's my judge--"
"Pardon, monsieur," said the Count, eager to save this protestinggentleman another _betise_; "I quite understand, I think,--the ladyfinds you a discreet friend. Naturally her illness has unmanned you. Thescandal of the world need never trouble a good man."
"But a merely middling-good man, M. Montaiglon," cried the Chamberlain;"you'll allow that's a difference. Lord knows I lay no claim to acrystal virtue! In this matter I have no regard for my own reputation,but just for that very reason I'm anxious about the lady's. Whathappened in that room there was that I've had to do an ill thing andmake an end of an auld sang. I'm rarely discreet in my own interest,M. Montaiglon, but it had to be shown this time, and as sure as death Ifeel like a murderer at the havoc I have wrought with that good woman'smind!"
He stopped suddenly; a lump was in his throat. In the beam of light thatcame through the hole in a shutter of a house they passed, Montaiglonsaw that his companion's face was all wrought with wretchedness, and atear was on his cheek.
The discovery took him aback. He had ungenerously deemed the strainedvoice in the darkness beside him a mere piece of play-acting, buthere was proof of genuine feeling, all the more convincing because theChamberlain suddenly brisked up and coughed and assumed a new tone, asif ashamed of his surrender to a sentiment.
"I have been compelled to be cruel to-night to a woman, M. Montaiglon,"said he, "and that is not my nature. And--to come to anotherconsideration that weighed as much with me as any--this unpleasant dutyof mine that still sticks in my throat like funeral-cake was partlyforced by consideration for another lady--the sweetest and the best--whowould be the last I should care to have hear any ill of me, even in alibel."
A protest rose to Montaiglon's throat; a fury stirred him at thegaucherie that should bring Olivia's name upon the top of such asubject. He could not trust himself to speak with calmness, and it wasto his great relief the Chamberlain changed the topic--broadened it, atleast, and spoke of women in the general, almost cheerfully, as ifhe delighted to put an unpleasant topic behind him. It was done soadroitly, too, that Count Victor was compelled to believe it promptedby a courteous desire on the part of the Chamberlain not too vividly toilluminate his happiness in the affection of Olivia.
"I'm an older man than you, M. Montaiglon," said the Chamberlain, "and Imay be allowed to give some of my own conclusions upon the fair. I haveknown good, ill, and merely middling among them, the cunning and thesimple, the learned and the utterly ignorant, and by the Holy Iron!honesty and faith are the best virtues in the lot of them. They all likeflattery, I know--"
"A dead man and a stupid woman are the only ones who do not. _Jamaisbeau parler riecorcha le langue!_" said Montaiglon.
"Faith, and that's very true," consented the Chamberlain, laughingsoftly. "I take it not amiss myself if it's proffered in the rightway--which is to say, for the qualities I know I have, and not for theimaginary ones. As I was saying, give me the simple heart and honesty;they're not very rife in our own sex, and--"
"Even there, monsieur, I can be generous enough," said Montaiglon. "Ican always retain my regard for human nature, because I have learnednever to expect too much from it."
"Well said!" cried the Chamberlain. "Do you know that in your manner ofrejoinder you recall one Dumont I met once at the Jesuits' College whenI was in France years ago?"
"Ah, you have passed some time in my country, then?" said the Count withawakened interest, a little glad of a topic scarce so abstruse as sex.
"I have been in every part of Europe," said the Chamberlain; "and itmust have been by the oddest of mischances I have not been at Cammercyitself, for well I knew your uncle's friends, though, as it happened, wewere of a different complexion of politics. I lived for months onetime in the Hotel de Transylvania, Rue Conde, and kept my _carosse deremise_, and gambled like every other ass of my kind in Paris till I hadnot a louis to my credit. Lord! the old days, the old days! I should bepenitent, I daresay, M. Montaiglon, but I'm putting that off till I findthat a sober life has compensations for the entertainment of a life ofliberty."
"Did you know Balhaldie?"
"Do I know the inside of my own pocket! I've played piquet wi' theold rogue a score of times in the Sun tavern of Rotterdam. Pardon mespeaking that way of one that may be an intimate of your own, but to bequite honest, the Scots gentlemen living on the Scots Fund in France inthese days were what I call the scourings of the Hielan's. There weregood and bad among them, of course, but I was there in the _entourage_of one who was no politician, which was just my own case, and I sawbut the convivial of my exiled countrymen in their convivial hours.Politics! In these days I would scunner at the very word, if you knowwhat that means, M. Montaiglon. I was too throng with gaiety to troublemy head about such trifles; my time wa
s too much taken up with bucklingmy hair, in admiring the cut of my laced _jabot_, and the Mechlin of mywrist-bands."
They were walking close upon the sea-wall with leisurely steps,preoccupied, the head of the little town, it seemed, wholly surrenderedto themselves alone. Into the Chamberlain's voice had come an accentof the utmost friendliness and flattering ir-restraint; he seemed to beleaving his heart bare to the Frenchman. Count Victor was by theselast words transported to his native city, and his own far-off days ofgalliard. Why, in the name of Heaven! was he here listening to hackneyedtales of domestic tragedy and a stranger's reminiscences? Why didhis mind continually linger round the rock of Doom, so noisy on itspromontory, so sad, so stern, so like an ancient saga in its spirit?Cecile--he was amazed at it, but Cecile, and the Jacobite cause he hadcome here to avenge with a youth's ardour, had both fallen, as it were,into a dusk of memory!
"By the way, monsieur, you did not happen to have come upon any oneremotely suggesting my Drimdarroch in the course of your travels?"
"Oh, come!" cried Sim MacTaggart; "if I did, was I like to mentionit here and now?" He laughed at the idea. "You have not grasped theclannishness of us yet if you fancy--"
"But in an affair of strict honour, monsieur," broke in Count Victoreagerly. "Figure you a woman basely betrayed; your admirable sentimentsregarding the sex must compel you to admit there is here somethingmore than clannishness can condone. It is true there is the politicalelement--but not much of it--in my quest, still--"
"Not a word of that, M. Montaiglon!" cried the Chamberlain: "thereyou address yourself to his Grace's faithful servant; but I cannot bedenying some sympathy with the other half of your object. If I hadknown this by-named Drimdarroch you look for, I might have swithered toconfess it, but as it is, I have never had the honour. I've seen scoresof dubious cattle round the walls of Ludo-vico Rex, but which might beDrimdarroch and which might be decent honest men, I could not at thistime guess. We have here among us others who had a closer touch withaffairs in France than I."
"So?" said Count Victor. "Our friend the Baron of Doom suggested thatfor that very reason my search was for the proverbial needle in thehaystack. I find myself in pressing need of a judicious friend at court,I see. Have you ever found your resolution quit you--not an oozingcourage, I mean, but an indifference that comes purely by the lapse oftime and the distractions on the way to its execution? It is my caseat the moment. My thirst for the blood of this _inconnu_ has modifiedconsiderably in the past few days. I begin to wish myself home again,and might set out incontinent if the object of my coming here at allhad not been so well known to those I left behind. You would be doinga brilliant service--and perhaps but little harm to Drimdarroch afterall--if you could arrange a meeting at the earliest."
He laughed as he said so.
"Man! I'm touched by the issue," said the Chamberlain; "I must castan eye about. Drimdarroch, of course, is Doom, or was, if a lawyer'ssheep-skins had not been more powerful nowadays than the sword;but"--he paused a moment as if reluctant to give words to theinnuendo--"though Doom himself has been in France to some good purposein nis time, and though, for God knows what, he is no friend of mine, Iwould be the first to proclaim him free of any suspicion."
"That, monsieur, goes without saying! I was stupid enough tomisunderstand some of his eccentricities myself, but have learned in ourbrief acquaintanceship to respect in him the man of genuine heart."
"Just so, just so!" cried the Chamberlain, and cleared his throat. "Ibut mentioned his name to make it plain that his claim to the old titlein no way implicated him. A man of great heart, as you say, though witha reputation for oddity. If I were not the well-wisher of his house,I could make some trouble about his devotion to the dress and armsforbidden here to all but those in the king's service, as I am myself,being major of the local Fencibles. And--by the Lord! here's MacCailen!"
They had by this time entered the policies of the Duke. A figure walkedalone in the obscurity, with arms in a characteristic fashion behind itsback, going in the direction they themselves were taking. For a secondor two the Chamberlain hesitated, then formed his resolution.
"I shall introduce you," he said to Count Victor. "It may be of someservice afterwards."
The Duke turned his face in the darkness, and, as they came alongside,recognised his Chamberlain.
"Good evening, good evening!" he cried cheerfully. "'Art a late bird, asusual, and I am at that pestilent task the rehearsal of a speech."
"Your Grace's industry is a reproach to your Grace's Chamberlain," saidthe latter. "I have been at the speech-making myself, partly to a lady."
"Ah, Mr. MacTaggart!" cried the Duke in a comical expostulation.
"And partly to this unfortunate friend of mine, who must fancy us asingularly garrulous race this side of the German Ocean. May I introduceM. Montaiglon, who is at the inn below, and whom it has been my goodfortune to meet for the first time to-night?"
Argyll was most cordial to the stranger, who, however, took the earliestopportunity to plead fatigue and return to his inn. He had no soonerretired than the Duke expressed some natural curiosity.
"It cannot be the person you desired for the furnishing of our tolbooththe other day, Sim?" said he.
"No less," frankly responded the Chamberlain. "Your Grace saved me a_faux pas_ there, for Montaiglon is not what I fancied at all."
"You were ever the dubious gentleman, Sim," laughed his Grace. "Andwhat--if I may take the liberty--seeks our excellent and impeccable Gaulso far west?"
"He's a wine merchant," said the Chamberlain, and at that the Dukelaughed.
"What, man!" he cried at last, shaking with his merriment, "is ourancient Jules from Oporto to be ousted with the aid of Sim MacTaggartfrom the ducal cellars in favour of one Montaiglon?" He stopped, caughthis Chamberlain by the arm, and stood close in an endeavour to perceivehis countenance. "Sim," said he, "I wonder what Modene would say to findhis cousin hawking vile claret round Argyll. Your friend's incognito isscarcely complete enough even in the dark. Why, the man's Born! Icould tell it in his first sentence, and it's a swordsman's hand, nota cellarer's fingers, he gave me a moment ago. That itself would betrayhim even if I did not happen to know that the Montaiglons have the_particule_."
"It is quite as you say," confessed the Chamberlain with some chagrinat his position, "but I'm giving the man's tale as he desires to haveit known here. He's no less than the Count de Montaiglon, and a ratherdecent specimen of the kind, so far as I can judge."
"But why the _alias_, good Sim?" asked the Duke. "I like not your_aliases_, though they have been, now and then--ahem!--useful."
"Your Grace has travelled before now as Baron Hay," said theChamberlain.
"True! true! and saved very little either in inn charges or in thepother of State by the device. And if I remember correctly, I made nopretence at wine-selling on these occasions. Honestly now, what thedevil does the Comte de Montaiglon do here--and with Sim MacTaggart?"
"The matter is capable of the easiest explanation. He's here on what heis pleased to call an affair of honour, in which there is implicated theusual girl and another gentleman, who, it appears, is some ope, stillunknown, about your Grace's castle." And the story in its entirety wasspeedily his Grace's.
"H'm," ejaculated Argyll at last when he had heard all. "And you fancythe quest as hopeless as it is quixotic? Now mark me! Simon; I read ourFrench friend, even in the dark, quite differently. He had little to saythere, but little as it was 'twas enough to show by its manner that he'sjust the one who will find his man even in my crowded corridors."