CHAPTER II.
THE CHATEAU DE CHAMONDRIN.
The man who appeared at the door was young, and, in spite of his swarthycomplexion and formidable moustache, his features and the expression ofhis eyes indicated frankness and benevolence. His garb was that of asoldier rather than a servant, but the arms of the Marquis deChamondrin, the owner of the chateau, were embroidered in silver uponit. On seeing the unconscious Tiepoletta and the child so quietlysleeping beside her, he could not repress a cry of astonishment anddismay.
"What is it, Coursegol?" inquired a gentleman who had followed him.
"Look, sir," replied Coursegol, pointing to Tiepoletta.
"Is she dead?" exclaimed the Marquis, springing forward; then, deeplyimpressed by the beauty of the unconscious girl, he knelt beside her andplaced his hand upon her heart. It still throbbed, but so feebly that hecould scarcely count its pulsations. The Marquis rose.
"She lives," said he, "but I do not know that we shall save her. Quick,Coursegol, have her and her child brought in and apply restoratives."
"Oh, the child is doing very well," replied the servitor. "All it needsis a little milk; for to-day, one of our goats must be its nurse."
As he spoke Coursegol summoned a servant to whom he confided the infant;then, taking the mother in his strong arms, he carried her up-stairs andplaced her on a bed.
Coursegol was thirty years of age. Born in the chateau, where his fatherand his grandfather before him had served the Marquis de Chamondrin, hehad shared the childish sports of the lad who afterwards became hismaster. He absolutely worshipped the Marquis, regarding him with averitable idolatry that was compounded of respect and of love. Outsideof the chateau and its occupants, there was nothing that could interestor attract this honest fellow. His heart, his intelligence and his lifewere consecrated to his master's service. In the neighboring villages heso lauded the name of Chamondrin that no one dared to let fall in hispresence any word that did not redound to the glory and honor ofCoursegol's idolized master. He had no particular office at the chateau,but he superintended everything, assuming the duties of lodge-keeper,gardener, major-domo and not unfrequently those of cook. It was he whoinstructed the son of the Marquis in the arts of horsemanship and offencing, for he had served two years in His Majesty's cavalry andthoroughly understood these accomplishments. He was also an adept in themanufacture of whistles from willow twigs, in the training of dogs,falcons and ferrets, in snaring birds, in the capture of butterflies andin skipping stones.
He had already begun to teach Philip--his master's son, a bright boy offive--all these accomplishments. He had some knowledge of medicine also;and, as he had spent much of his life in the fields, he had becomeacquainted with the names and properties of many plants and herbs; andthis knowledge had often been called into requisition for the benefit ofmany of the people as well as the animals of the neighborhood. Never hadhis skill been needed more than now, for poor Tiepoletta had notrecovered consciousness, and her rigidity and the ghastly pallor whichhad overspread her features seemed to indicate that she had already beenstruck with death.
Anxious to resuscitate her, Coursegol set energetically to work, but notwithout emotion. It was the first time he had ever exercised his skillon a woman, and this pure and lovely face had made a deep impression onhis heart. He would willingly have given a generous share of his ownblood to hear Tiepoletta speak, to see her smile upon him.
"Look, sir," said he, "how beautiful she is! She certainly cannot betwenty years old. Her skin is as fine as satin, and what hair! Couldanything be more lovely?"
While he spoke, Coursegol was endeavoring to unclose the teeth of thegypsy in order to introduce a few drops of warm, sweetened wine throughher pallid lips. Then he rubbed the feet of the unfortunate womanvigorously with hot flannels.
"They are sore and swollen!" he added. "She must have come a longdistance!"
"Is she recovering?" asked the Marquis, who stood by, watchingCoursegol's efforts.
"I do not know; but see, sir, it seemed to me that she moved."
The Marquis came nearer. As he did so Tiepoletta opened her eyes. Shelooked anxiously about her, then faintly murmured a few words in astrange tongue.
"She speaks," said the Marquis, "but what does she say? She seemsfrightened and distressed."
"She wishes to see her child," exclaimed Coursegol, departing on therun.
During his absence Tiepoletta regained her senses sufficiently torecollect what had happened; but she was so weak that she could scarcelyspeak. Still, when Coursegol appeared with the child in his arms, shesmiled and extended her hands.
"Kiss her, but do not take her," said the Marquis. "You are not strongenough for that yet."
Tiepoletta understood and obeyed. Then she said gently in bad French:
"My Dolores."
"Dolores! That is a pretty name!" remarked Coursegol, pleased to hearthe poor woman speak.
"You will keep her, will you not?" said Tiepoletta, entreatingly. "Youwill not give her to those who will maltreat her? Make an honest girl ofher. Teach her not to scorn the poor gypsies. Tell her that her fatherand her mother belonged to that despised race."
She uttered these phrases slowly, speaking, not without difficulty,French words that would clearly express her meaning.
"Have no fears," replied Coursegol. "The child shall want for nothing.Rest in peace."
"Yes," she repeated, "rest in death."
"She talks of dying!" exclaimed the Marquis. The words had hardly lefthis lips when the woman rose and extended her arms. Her featurescontracted; her large eyes seemed to start from her head; she placed herhand upon her heart, uttered a shrill cry and fell back upon the bed. Itwas the work of an instant. Coursegol and the Marquis both sprangforward, lifted her, and endeavored to restore her, but in vain. Theunfortunate Tiepoletta was dead. Her heart had broken like a fragilevase, shattered by the successive misfortunes she had undergone. A greattear fell from the eyes of Coursegol.
"Poor woman!" said he.
"What shall we do with the child?" inquired the Marquis. "I would liketo keep her and rear her. Heaven has sent her here; but who will act asa mother to the poor little waif? The condition of the Marquise rendersit impossible for her to do so."
As he spoke, his voice trembled with emotion. It was not only because hewas touched by the sight before him, but because the words he haduttered reminded him of his own misfortunes.
"If Monsieur le Marquis would but grant my request," said Coursegol,timidly.
"What is your request?"
"I have no wife, no child. The little apartment that I occupy is verygloomy when M. Philip is not with me. If you will consent to it, Doloresshall be my daughter."
"Your daughter, but who would take care of her?"
"Oh! I will attend to that. I know some very worthy people in Remoulins.The woman has a young child. She will have milk enough for this littlething too. I will entrust the child to her for a time."
"Very well; I have no objection, Coursegol," replied the Marquis. "Takethe child, if you wish. As for the mother, may her soul rest in peace!She probably had no faith in religion; but I am sure she was guilty ofno sin. I shall request the cure of Remoulins to allow her body torepose in his cemetery. I will now inform the authorities of what hasoccurred."
With these words, the Marquis left the room; and Coursegol, aftercovering the face of the dead with reverent hands, knelt and prayed forher as well as for the orphan who had been confided to his care.
The Chateau de Chamondrin was scarcely a century old. Erected on thesite of a feudal castle which had been demolished because it threatenedto fall into ruins, the present structure was destitute of the massivetowers, moats and drawbridges that characterize the ancient castle. Thebuilding was square and enclosed an immense court; it was only twostories high, and the upper story was surrounded by a veranda. Such hadbeen the very simple plan executed by the architect; and the result hadbeen an unpretentious abode, but one to which the color of the bric
ksused in its construction, the delicate columns that supported thewindows and doors and the graceful pavilions placed at each of the fourcorners lent an air of extreme elegance.
The building occupied the entire plateau on the brow of the hill andcommanded a superb view of the Garden; while the park and farm-lands,vineyards and forests pertaining to the chateau covered the hill itself.This property was now the only possession of the house of Chamondrin,one of the oldest in Languedoc and Provence. It was not always thus.There had been a time when "As rich as a Chamondrin" was a proverb inthe region thereabout. In those days this illustrious family hadcountless vassals and unbounded wealth, and enjoyed an income thatenabled it for many successive generations to play a conspicuous role,first at the Court of Provence and later at the Court of France. Thegrandfather and father of the present Marquis lived to see the end ofthis proverbial opulence. They both led careers of extravagance anddissipation, taking part in all the gayeties and follies of the court.The grandfather was one of the favorite companions of Philipped'Orleans; and wine, cards and women killed him when he should have beenstill in the prime of life.
His son did not learn wisdom from his father's example. He in his turnbecame the friend of the Regent, and to repair his shattered fortunes heengaged, at the advice of Lau, in those disastrous financial enterprisesthat paved the way for the Revolution. He failed completely in hisventures, left Paris insolvent, and took refuge in the Chateau deChamondrin, where he hoped to escape the wrath of his creditors. Butthey complained to the king, and brought such influence to bear upon himthat Louis XV., the Well-beloved, who had just ascended the throne,informed the Marquis de Chamondrin that he would allow him three monthsin which to choose between the payment of his debts and incarceration inthe Bastile. The Marquis did not hesitate long. He sold all his propertywith the exception of this chateau and paid his debts. But when thisplebeian duty was accomplished, it left him in receipt of an extremelymodest income. Poverty had fallen upon this house at the very time thatthe favor of the king was withdrawn from it, and this two-foldmisfortune was quickly followed by the birth of a son and the loss ofhis wife.
These afflictions completely prostrated this man who was whollyunprepared to meet them. He shut himself up in his chateau, and there,far from the pleasures for which he pined, far from the friends who hadforgotten him, cursing God and man for his misfortunes, he lapsed into amisanthropy that rendered him nervous and eccentric almost to madness.He lived twenty years in this way, apparently taking no pleasure orinterest in his son, whose youth was gloomy and whose education wasentrusted entirely to the cure of a neighboring village. He died in1765, in the middle of the eighteenth century, the first half of whichhad proved so fatal to the prosperity of his house.
His son, Hector--the same who had sheltered Tiepoletta--found himself,when he became of age, the owner of a name famous in the courts ofEurope and upon many a field of battle, of an income of five thousandpounds and of the Chateau de Chamondrin. He was a gentle, serious youngman of very simple tastes. He quickly resigned himself to thesituation. After a close examination of the condition of affairs, heresolved to devote his life and all his efforts to the restoration ofthe glory of his name. He married, two years after the death of hisfather, the daughter of an impoverished Provencal nobleman, a lady whosedomestic virtues seemed likely to aid him in the execution of his plans.He brought his wife home the day after their marriage and then said toher:
"My dear Edmee, you have entered a family which for the past forty yearshas been subjected to reverses which can only be repaired by greatself-denial on our part. We cannot hope to enjoy the fruits of ourlabors ourselves, but our children, should God grant us any, may enjoythem, and it is for their sakes that we must endeavor to restore thehouse of Chamondrin to its former splendor and opulence; and since youhave consented to share my humble lot I hope that you will unite yourefforts with mine to lay aside each year a sum that will enable ouroldest son, when he arrives at the age of manhood, to make a respectableappearance at court where he will perhaps be fortunate enough to win theking's favor, our only hope."
"You will ever find me ready to second you in your efforts," replied theyoung wife.
A son and a daughter were born to them during the two years thatfollowed. Nor were these their only blessings. The crops were abundantand their savings considerable. The life of the young couple was sereneand happy. The Marquis was hopeful; the Marquise, a charming and mostlovable creature, shared his hopes. Undoubtedly their life in thisisolated chateau was often lonely and monotonous. The winters were verylong; but the Marquis read a great deal, hunted and superintended hisfarms with the diligence of a peasant. The Marquise, too, was obliged tohave a finger in the pie, to use a common expression. She directed theaffairs of her household with as much care and economy as the plainestbourgeoise and seemed to live only to second the efforts of her husband.If resignation is the chief element of happiness, they were happy at theChateau de Chamondrin.
Four years passed in this way. Little Philip was growing finely; he hadpassed safely through the perils of teething and was beginning to talk.
"We will make a fine gentleman of him," said the Marquis. "He willcreate a sensation at court; the king will give him command of aregiment, and he will marry some rich heiress. As for this young lady,"he added, caressing his daughter who was named Martha, "if we cannotgive her a dowry we will obtain an appointment as lady abbess for her."
The Marquise encouraged her dear Hector in these projects with hersweetest smile; but a terrible accident, followed by a catastrophe noless horrible, destroyed these delightful dreams and brought desolationto this happy home.
Towards the close of the year 1769, Martha, the youngest child, began tolose her fine color and faded so rapidly that her parents becamealarmed. They passed long nights at the bedside of the little sufferer,who seemed to be a victim of a sort of nervous debility or exhaustion.One night the Marquise volunteered to watch while her husband slept,and, in administering some medicine to her child, mistook the vial andpoisoned her. Martha died and it was impossible to conceal the cause ofher death from the grief-stricken mother. Her despair was even morepoignant than that of her husband for with hers was mingled a frightfulremorse which all the tenderness of the Marquis could not assuage. Thisdespair caused an attack of fever from which she recovered, but whichleft her in a still more pitiable condition. A profound calm hadsucceeded the paroxysms of fever; and her sorrow no longer betrayeditself in sobs and lamentations, but only in silent tears andheart-breaking sighs. These alarming symptoms soon revealed the truth:reason had fled. For hours at a time poor Edmee rocked to and fro, witha bundle of rags clasped tightly to her breast, crooning over it thesame lullaby she had been wont to sing over her sleeping child.
Physicians summoned from Avignon, Nimes and Montpellier tried in vain toovercome this deep despondency, which was far more dangerous thanfrenzy. Their skill was powerless; they could not give the Marquis eventhe slightest ray of hope. It was not long before the Marquise becamefrightfully pale and emaciated, while her mind was more than ever underthe control of the monomania which saw her daughter in all the objectsthat surrounded her. She took, by turns, flowers, articles of clothingand of furniture, lavishing every mark of affection upon them andcalling them by the most endearing names until their insensibilitydispelled the illusion and she cast them aside with loathing to seekelsewhere the child for which she mourned.
These afflictions, the rapidity with which they had followed one anotherand their magnitude impaired the health of the Marquis. He fell ill inhis turn, and for more than a month Coursegol thought the shadow ofdeath was hovering over his master. But the Marquis was young andstrong; and the thought that if he succumbed his son would be left anorphan produced a salutary reaction. He was soon on his feet again, and,though he was always sad, he accepted his misfortunes bravely andresolved to live for his son's sake.
These events occurred about a year before Tiepoletta dragged herself tothe door of the chateau to die in Co
ursegol's arms, confiding herdaughter to his care.
After he had prayed for the departed, Coursegol rose, took up littleDolores and went out into the court-yard, calling:
"Master Philip! Master Philip!"
The little fellow, who was playing in charge of one of theservant-maids, came running to answer the summons. He was now four yearsold. His pretty and rather delicate face was surrounded by a profusionof brown curls, and his large eyes revealed an intelligence andthoughtfulness unusual in a child of his age. He talked well enough tomake himself clearly understood, and understood all that was said to himin reply.
"See this pretty baby!" said Coursegol, displaying Dolores.
"A doll!" exclaimed Philip, clapping his hands in rapture.
"Yes, in flesh and blood," replied Coursegol; "a doll that cries, thatwill grow and talk to you and amuse you."
"When?" demanded Philip.
"When she grows up."
"Then make her grow up immediately," ordered the little autocrat.
Then, seizing Coursegol's hand, he dragged him to the kitchen, for hewished to show every one his newfound treasure without delay. A crowd ofservants soon gathered around Philip and Coursegol. The latter wasexplaining how the infant had come into his possession, and every onewas marvelling at the strangeness of the adventure, when the Marquisesuddenly appeared. The poor creature was always closely followed by awoman who was ordered never to lose sight of her mistress. She wanderedabout the chateau, never noisy or troublesome, but recognizing no one,not even her husband or her own child. She now advanced towards thelittle group which respectfully divided to make way for her. One couldscarcely imagine a more pitiable sight than that presented by thisbeautiful young woman, whose haggard eyes, unbound hair and disorderedgarments revealed her insanity in spite of her attendant's efforts tokeep her neatly dressed. At that moment, she was holding a piece of woodtightly to her bosom, and was singing softly as she advanced withmeasured steps as if trying to lull this supposed child to sleep.Suddenly she paused, threw the fragment of wood far from her and burstinto tears.
All the spectators of this scene stood motionless, overcome with pity,though they witnessed a similar spectacle each day and many times a day.Little Philip in his terror clung closely to Coursegol. The Marquisepassed, looked at him, and, shaking her head, murmured:
"That is not what I am looking for!" Suddenly she stopped as if rivetedto the spot. Her eyes had fallen upon the sleeping Dolores cradled inCoursegol's arms. There was such an intentness in her gaze, she wasregarding the child with so much persistence, that a strange thoughtflashed through the mind of the faithful servant.
"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "might it be possible? Retire," he said,hastily, addressing those around him; "take Master Philip away and callthe Marquis."
They obeyed: all the servants vanished; the Marquise alone remained.Then Coursegol deposited the child upon a wide bench that stood againstthe wall, and, departing in his turn, ran to conceal himself behind awindow where he could see his mistress without being seen. It was therethe Marquis found him.
"Ah! sir," exclaimed Coursegol on beholding his master, "I believemadame is saved. Heaven has inspired me. But what if I am mistaken?" headded, anxiously. "What if she should kill the poor little thing?"
"What do you say? What have you done? Run and take the child from her.Have we not had misfortunes enough already? Go, I tell you!"
"It is too late!" replied Coursegol, terribly excited. "Look!"
After devouring Dolores with her eyes for several moments, the Marquisegently approached her with outstretched arms, her face strangely alteredby the emotion that filled her heart. Curiosity, surprise and fear wereimprinted upon her features. She leaned over the child and scrutinizedit anew; then, with an eager movement, seized it, pressed it to herbosom and started as if to run away with it. But when she had goneperhaps twenty paces, she paused and looked around as if to assureherself that no one was following her. The Marquis and Coursegol werestanding at the half-open window, not daring to breathe, so great wastheir anxiety. Suddenly they saw the Marquise press little Dolores stillcloser to her heart, and imprint frenzied kisses upon her brow, whilefor the first time for many a long month beneficent tears flowed fromher eyes. At the same time she exclaimed in a clear, strong voice:
"Hector, my daughter! I have found my daughter!"
The agitated Marquis sprang towards her. She saw him approaching andadvanced to meet him, laughing and crying and displaying the child;then, overcome by the violence of her emotion, she fell in his extendedarms, devoid of consciousness.
"She is saved!"' said Coursegol, who had followed his master.
"Ah, Coursegol, can it be true?" demanded the Marquis, who couldscarcely believe his own eyes.
"Did she not recognize you? Did she not speak to you? Her madnessdisappeared as soon as her maternal instincts were re-awakened."
They carried the Marquise to her chamber and laid her upon the bed. Inobedience to Coursegol's directions a cradle was placed in her room andthe infant deposited in it; then the devoted servant mounted a horse andstarted for Nimes in quest of a physician.
When he returned at the end of three hours, accompanied by the doctor,the Marquise had regained consciousness. They had shown her the sleepingDolores and, reassured by the sight of the child, she had fallen asleep.Occasionally she roused a little and those around her heard her murmur:
"My daughter! my daughter!"
Then, raising herself upon her elbow, she watched the babe in silentecstasy until overcome with exhaustion she again closed her eyes inslumber.
"I can be of no service here," said the physician. "Her reason hasreturned unquestionably; and her weakness will be overcome by good careand absolute quiet."
It was in this way that the Marquise was restored to her right mind.From that day her hold upon life slowly but surely strengthened; sherecognized her husband and her son, and it was not long before theycould without danger reveal the circumstances attendant upon Dolores'arrival at the chateau. Three months later her recovery was complete.
One morning the Marquis sent for Coursegol.
"I gave you Dolores," said he, abruptly; "will you not return her to me?Henceforth she shall be my daughter."
"She is my daughter as well," replied Coursegol, "but you may take her,sir. Though I relinquish her to you, I do not lose her since I shalllive near her, and we can both love her."
The Marquis de Chamondrin offered his hand to Coursegol, thus consentingto the compact that gave Dolores two protectors; and so the daughter ofthe gypsy, though she had lost her parents, was not an orphan.