The King's Warrant: A Story of Old and New France

  CHAPTER V.

  For several days after the eventful scene at the Chateau de Beaujardinnothing particularly worth mentioning occurred either there or atValricour; outwardly at least, matters seemed to have relapsed intotheir ordinary routine, just as some usually placid stream, after beingswollen and agitated for a while by a sudden storm of wind and rain,subsides once more into its customary channel. The marquis, indeed,might seem somewhat more sedate and more taciturn than was his wont,and the marchioness possibly suffered herself to be looked upon by herfemale friends as very much to be pitied for some mysterious cause ofanxiety she could not divulge for all the world. Madame de Valricour,however, betrayed not the slightest indication that anything was goingor had gone wrong; on the contrary, she appeared more lively andamiable than usual, and treated Marguerite with peculiar affability andsweetness. But Clotilde, at all events, was not slow to perceive thatboth Marguerite and herself were watched much more closely than theyhad ever been before by Madame de Bleury, a decayed gentlewoman anddistant relative of Madame de Valricour, who had for some years pastlived at the chateau, and discharged the multifarious duties ofhousekeeper, chaperone, duenna, and private secretary to the baronessas occasion required. More than once during those few days Madame deValricour went over to Beaujardin, but did not take either of the youngladies with her, a circumstance at which Clotilde chafed not a little,declaring that she was quite sure that it was neither the weather northe distance that stood in the way, as her mother alleged, but in orderthat she might not come across Monsieur de Crillon, who was just thenon a visit at Beaujardin.

  "What should I care about him?" she would say to Marguerite. "He hasbecome much too grand a personage at court to care about suchinsignificant creatures as you or I. Why, I am told he is quite theright-hand man of the king's minister, and that he is likely enoughsome day to rise to be one of the first officers of state; but then hehas no money, and as I have not a farthing, perhaps it is no wonderthat mamma is in such terrible fear of our meeting, even for oneevening, at Beaujardin."

  And where was Isidore all this week? If any one asked, the reply wasthat it was believed he had gone to Paris to pay his respects to theking, though there were some amongst the domestics at Beaujardin whosmiled when they heard that, for Monsieur Jasmin was still at thechateau; it was even whispered that Isidore had once or twice been seenat Valricour whilst the baroness was away. If that lady, however, didknow anything of these rumours, she took no notice of them, and bidedher time.

  There had been a large party at Beaujardin, at which the marquis andmarchioness, whatever may have been their disquietude at heart, hadtreated their guests with all their wonted courtesy and attention.Nevertheless it is likely enough that long after the numerous anddistinguished visitors had retired to rest, the noble host and hostess,as well as the Baroness de Valricour, who had been present, spent morethan one wakeful hour. Besides them, however, there were three otherpersons in the chateau who sat up till a late period of the night. Ina handsomely furnished and well lighted apartment at the rear of themansion Monsieur Boulederouloue, the steward or _maitre d'hotel_, withhis special guests, Monsieur Achille Perigord, the _chef de cuisine_,and Monsieur Jasmin, the young marquis' valet, yet lingered over aflask of Chateau d'Yquem, such as all the regiments of royal butlers atVersailles could not have set before his most Christian Majesty LouisQuinze himself.

  The three men were in every particular about as unlike to each other asany three men could be. The valet, who possessed an unusually goodface and figure, whose costume was unexceptionable, and who hadacquired to perfection the ultra-courteous manners of the time, mighthave passed for a nobleman anywhere except alongside of a real one.One might really have been excused for fancying him of a different raceof beings from Monsieur Boulederouloue, the shapelessness of whose hugeunwieldy frame was happily rendered undistinguishable by anextravagantly full suit of the Louis Quatorze fashion. An enormousfull-bottomed wig of the same period surmounted and flanked his fullmoon face of pasty whiteness, most like the battered and colourlessvisage of an old wax doll, in which a transverse slit does duty for amouth, and whose deficiency in the article of nose is counterbalancedby great glassy eyes guiltless of a single atom of expression.Marvellous indeed was Monsieur Boulederouloue's stolidity in allthings, and not less notable his stupidity in all but one; that onething, however, was his business as _maitre d'hotel_, in which he wasunsurpassed, unrivalled. If you told him that there had been no kingsof France before Louis the Fourteenth, and that his native country wasan island in the Pacific, that grass grew on trees in India, and thatthe stars were old moons chopped up into bits, he would have stared atyou and believed it all. What did he know of such things? His fatherand grandfather had been stewards in the Beaujardin family before hewas born; from his infancy he had seen, noted, watched, talked of,cared for only what pertained to the proper regulation of the householdthat constituted his little world. So he grew up, and on the day onwhich his father, old Mathieu Boulederouloue, departed this life, youngMathieu put on the Louis Quatorze suit and wig, and not one of theguests at the chateau could have imagined that the one functionary inthe place most important to him had bequeathed to new and untried handsthe post that he had filled for forty years. What of it? From thatday it was with young Mathieu as it had been with old Mathieu. Oneglance into the brilliant saloon told him how many covers were requiredfor supper, what wines, what viands, suited the occasion. One statelywalk round the furnished table was enough for him to detect theminutest error or omission of his myrmidons. Not one of the hundredsof guests that visited the chateau crossed the great hall to whom the_maitre d'hotel_ was unable to assign on the spot the chamber he was tooccupy, his place at table, and the degree of precedence to which hewas entitled. Yes, M. Boulederouloue was assuredly a perfect master ofhis business; and what is more, the scores of servants under him wereall masters of theirs, for he had a most simple and summary mode ofdealing with any one that was not perfectly in order. The offendingparty was at once summoned to the presence of Monsieur Boulederouloue,who presented him with an order on the intendant for the wages due tohim, and without a word waved his hand towards the door. Remonstranceand entreaty, or the assurance that it was a first fault, were alike invain; a stare, a shrug, and just possibly the pithy injunction, "Go!"was the utmost they ever elicited from the _maitre d'hotel_; and astheir wages were high and always paid to the day, a practice by nomeans common in great households in those times, the cases ofdelinquency were few, and M. Boulederouloue's staff, like himself, didtheir duty to perfection.

  And Monsieur Perigord, the _chef_? Well, if Monsieur Boulederouloueweighed twice as much as M. Jasmin, the latter certainly weighed twiceas much as Monsieur Perigord. Diminutive and meagre to a degree, themaster of the kitchen possessed a mighty soul, and was endowed with anenergy of purpose that must have made him first and foremost in anysphere of life; but fate had ordained that he should only be the firstand foremost cook in all the world, though as Beaujardin, and notVersailles, was the scene of his operations, it is only in these humblepages that his name will go down to posterity. Such was his restlessvivacity, that in his ever ready denunciations of anything poor andmean, or cowardly, his shrivelled frame would quiver like a marionetteon wires; he would rend in shreds his laced frill and ruffles,scattering thorn like snowflakes on the floor, and end by flingingafter them his small pig-tailed queue, leaving all bare and bald a headthat for colour and size might have been mistaken for an ostrich egg,but for the hawk-like beak and small fiery black eyes, that would havebeen ridiculous in any face but that of Monsieur Perigord.

  That Monsieur Jasmin should look down with sovereign contempt on twosuch men--on the _maitre d'hotel_ for his entire absence of allsensitiveness, and on the _chef de cuisine_ for his unpolished excessof it was only natural. Yet it must not be supposed that with eitherof them he indulged that air of supercilious patronage with which hewas accustomed to treat all not absolutely above him in the socialscale; it woul
d have been simply thrown away upon the one, the otherwould have kicked him for it, even if he had to get upon a chair to doso. Still Monsieur Jasmin managed to maintain some kind of mysterioussuperiority over both, and, on the present occasion, he took care tolet them know that he was the depository of a most important familysecret--in fact the counsellor and confidential agent in an affair ofthe most vital consequence to the powers above. At first he had onlydropped vague hints, but what with M. Boulederouloue's dullness incomprehending them, and Monsieur Perigord's sudden and searchingcomments on them, he gradually began to let out more and more. Perhapsthe Chateau d'Yquem loosened M. Jasmin's tongue, for he had latterlybeen staying much at Valricour, and as the wine allowed that householdwas of a quality and quantity that gave an additional relish tounstinted measure and a vintage of the choicest class, he became moreand more communicative.

  "To be sure--to be sure! It is but natural that Monsieur Isidoreshould marry Mademoiselle Clotilde," exclaimed the voluble little man,as Jasmin with a mysterious smile left some allusion to the subjecthalf unsaid. "It is only what was to be expected--it could hardly beotherwise--any one could guess that. What! Have I not danced themboth on my knees when they were babies, and seen them grow up togetheras it were hand in hand, as if they were destined from their cradles tobe husband and wife? He is noble, generous, and handsome; she iswitty, virtuous, and beautiful. What do you tell us of a rival--ofcomplications--of difficulties--of a _mesalliance_?"

  Again M. Jasmin smiled mysteriously; M. Boulederouloue, collecting allhis energies for the purpose, ejaculated, "Impossible!"

  "Our good friend is right; it is impossible," continued Perigordvivaciously. "Who could come between them? Who else could aspire tothe hand of monsieur our young marquis? Ah! my good friend, you havebeen dreaming of something till you have imagined it to be a reality."

  Monsieur Jasmin was nettled, but he only smiled again morecontemptuously, saying, "Of course, it was doubtless only a dream ofmine that there is such a young lady as Mademoiselle Lacroix."

  "What! Mademoiselle Marguerite, she is a reality indeed--sensible,handsome, courageous, charitable, an angel for one in her station; butthen," here M. Perigord shrugged his shoulders, "she knows well thatthe rank of monsieur our young marquis forbids the thought of heraspiring to his hand. Ah, no! you deceive yourself, my friend, but youcannot deceive me in such a matter."

  "Indeed," replied the other, sarcastically; "and what should you say ifI tell you that she has won monsieur's heart already, and that he hasoffered her his hand? Yes," he added, observing the effect which hiswords produced even on the stolid countenance of the major-domo. "Yes,and what would you say if I told you that madame the baroness, who hadset her heart on the union of the cousins, has discovered all this andhas appealed to monsieur the marquis himself about it?"

  Monsieur Perigord could only stare at the speaker in amazement, while,strange to say, M. Boulederouloue, with whom astonishment was anhabitual and chronic state, was able to exclaim, "The world is comingto an end!"

  "Absurd, ridiculous, preposterous, impossible!" cried Perigord at last,with a vehement sweep of his hand which sent a decanter and a couple ofwine glasses flying off the table. "Monsieur Jasmin, your powers ofinvention are wonderful indeed, but I am not such a fool as to believeall this. How could you know it even if it were all true? Answer methat, my friend--answer me that!"

  "But I am fool enough to believe what I know to be true," retorted thevalet, forgetting his habitual caution in his irritation at M.Perigord's incredulity. "And if you wish to know how I learnt allthis, permit me to inform you that madame the baroness herself was soobliging as to make me acquainted with it at interviews with which shefavoured me. I can tell you more," he added, provoked by the scornfulsmile with which M. Perigord received these last words, and thereuponhe gave forth, with a volubility that would have done no discredit toold Perigord himself, a tolerably full account of all he knew or hadgathered from others respecting the affair, concluding with asupercilious intimation that he had now at madame's request taken thematter in hand, and would soon set all to rights.

  "Ah, no doubt--no doubt! Madame could not have chosen a more ableperson for the business," cried M. Perigord, suppressing theindignation that boiled within him by an effort which could scarcelyhave deceived the wily valet had he been sober. "I was a fool indeedto suppose that my good friend could be mistaken in his surmises; butthen I could not know that he was honoured with the confidence ofmadame the baroness. And yet it is a weighty matter--a maze ofdifficulties, a labyrinth of conflicting circumstances. IfMademoiselle Clotilde does not care for Monsieur Isidore after all, andhe loves Mademoiselle Marguerite, and has actually plighted his word toher, what master-stroke of policy can even the genius of M. Jasmindevise to overcome such obstacles?"

  The valet's wits were too blunted to detect the irony, but he drank inthe flattery as he sipped his wine. "Bah!" replied he, "our youngmaster can have his choice between a union with Mademoiselle Clotildeor a _lettre de cachet_; and as for pretty Mademoiselle Lacroix, as shehas no particular home of her own, she ought to be grateful if we findher one in some convent where the lady superior is not too fond ofletting her _protegees_ gad abroad--you understand?"

  "Yes; but what if she should appeal to the baron, who, as we know,pledged himself to protect the poor orphan, and should refuse to permither to go just wherever she is bid?" As he spoke these words M.Perigord clutched the chair in which he sat as if to keep himselfsteady, whilst a nervous twitching seemed to convulse his lilliputianframe.

  "Oh, leave that to me," rejoined the valet; "I warrant you I'll find away when the time comes, and that will very likely be no further offthan to-morrow, to tempt the silly little bird into the snare of thefowler." Saying this, the valet rose as if to depart, but at the samemoment the fiery little king of the kitchen bounded from his chair,sprang at him, and seized him by the throat, exclaiming--

  "Traitor! miscreant! Is this your duty, faith, and loyalty to youryoung master? If all men had their due your false and cowardly heartshould be torn out of your bosom for daring thus to plot against anoble and beautiful young lady, whom one would think even the meanestwould feel bound to help and protect."

  "The fiery little king of the kitchen bounded from hischair, sprang at him, and seized him by the throat."]

  M. Boulederouloue rose from his chair and stood aghast, ejaculatingsolemnly, "It is terrible!"

  "And to think that such a scoundrel should be trusted by madame thebaroness! Shame upon her! It is abominable!" Saying which M.Perigord, who had by this time let go the valet's throat, snatched offhis own wig and dashed it passionately on the floor. "Begone,despicable scoundrel that you are," he added, as the valet, with amalignant scowl, but without venturing to utter a word, made his way tothe door. "Begone! go to madame if you like, and tell her that if oldAchille Perigord can do anything to save our young master and this pooryoung lady from your horrible schemes he will not leave it undone, Ipromise you."

  Having hurled this speech after his retreating foe, M. Perigord alsoretired, after a parting salutation to the _maitre d'hotel_, who couldonly answer by holding up his hands and exclaiming, "Alas! the world iscoming to an end!"

  Tailpiece to Chapter V]

  Headpiece to Chapter VI]