In the Days of My Youth: A Novel

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE WIDOW OF A MINISTER OF FINANCE.

  "You are just in time, Arbuthnot, to do me a service," said Dalrymple,looking up from his desk as I went in, and reaching out his hand to meover a barricade of books and papers.

  "Then I am very glad I have come," I replied. "But what confusion isthis? Are you going anywhere?"

  "Yes--to perdition. There, kick that rubbish out of your way and sitdown."

  Never very orderly, Dalrymple's rooms were this time in as terrible alitter as can well be conceived. The table was piled high with bills,old letters, books, cigars, gloves, card-cases, and pamphlets. Thecarpet was strewn with portmanteaus, hat-cases, travelling-straps, oldluggage labels, railway wrappers, and the like. The chairs and sofaswere laden with wearing apparel. As for Dalrymple himself, he lookedhaggard and weary, as though the last four weeks had laid four yearsupon his shoulders.

  "You look ill," I said clearing a corner of the sofa for my ownaccommodation; "or _ennuye_, which is much the same thing. What is thematter? And what can I do for you?"

  "The matter is that I am going abroad," said he, with his chin restingmoodily in his two palms and his elbows on the table.

  "Going abroad! Where?"

  "I don't know--

  'Anywhere, anywhere, out of the world.'

  It's of very little consequence whether I betake myself to the East orto the West; eat rice in the tropics, or drink train-oil at the Pole."

  "But have you no settled projects?"

  "None whatever."

  "And don't care what becomes of you?"

  "Not in the least."

  "Then, in Heaven's name, what has happened?"

  "The very thing that, three weeks ago, would have made me the happiestfellow in Christendom. What are you going to do to-morrow?"

  "Nothing, beyond my ordinary routine of medical study."

  "Humph! Could you get a whole holiday, for once?"

  I remembered how many I had taken of late, and felt ashamed of thereadiness with which I replied:--

  "Oh yes! easily."

  "Well, then, I want you to spend the day with me. It will be, perhaps,my last in Paris for many a month, or even many a year. I ... Pshaw! Imay as well say it, and have done with it. I am going to be married."

  "Married!" I exclaimed, in blank amazement; for it was the last thing Ishould have guessed.

  Dalrymple tugged away at his moustache with both hands, as was his habitwhen perplexed or troubled, and nodded gloomily. "To whom?"

  "To Madame de Courcelles."

  "And are you not very happy?"

  "Happy! I am the most miserable dog unhanged?"

  I was more at fault now than ever.

  "I ... judging from trifles which some would perhaps scarcely haveobserved," I said, hesitatingly, "I--I thought you were interested inMadame de Courcelles?"

  "Interested!" cried he, pushing back his chair and springing to hisfeet, as if the word had stung him. "By heaven! I love that woman as Inever loved in my life."

  "Then why ..."

  "I'll tell you why--or, at least, I will tell you as much as I may--as Ican; for the affair is hers, and not mine. She has a cousin--cursehim!--to whom she was betrothed from childhood. His estates adjoinedhers; family interests were concerned in their union; and the parents onboth sides arranged matters. When, however, Monsieur de Courcelles fellin love with her--a man much older than herself, but possessed of greatwealth and immense political influence--her father did not hesitate tosend the cousin to the deuce and marry his daughter to the Minister ofFinance. The cousin, it seems, was then a wild young fellow; notparticularly in love with her himself; and not at all inconsolable forher loss. When, however, Monsieur de Courcelles was good enough to die(which he had the bad taste to do very hastily, and without making, byany means, the splendid provision for his widow which he had promised),our friend, the cousin, comes forward again. By this time he is enoughman of the world to appreciate the value of land--more especially as hehas sold, mortgaged, played the mischief with nearly every acre of hisown. He pleads the old engagement, and, as he is pleased to call it, theold love. Madame de Courcelles is a young widow, very solitary, with noone to love, no object to live for, and no experience of the world. Herpity is easily awaked; and the result is that she not only accepts thecousin, but lends him large sums of money; suffers the title-deeds ofher estates to go into the hands of his lawyer; and is formallybetrothed to him before the eyes of all Paris!"

  "Who is this man? Where is he?" I asked, eagerly.

  "He is an officer of Chasseurs, now serving with his regiment inAlgiers--a daring, dashing, reckless fellow; heartless and dissipatedenough; but a splendid soldier. However, having committed her propertyto his hands, and suffered her name to be associated publicly with his,Madame de Courcelles, during his absence in Algiers, has done me thehonor to prefer me. I have the first real love of her life, and theshort and long of it is, that we are to be privately married to-morrow."

  "And why privately?"

  "Ah, there's the pity of it! There's the disappointment and thebitterness!"

  "Can't Madame de Courcelles write and tell this man that she lovessomebody else better?"

  "Confound it! no. The fellow has her too much in his power, and, if hechose to be dishonest, could half ruin her. At all events she is afraidof him; and I ... I am as helpless as a child in the matter. If I were arich man, I would snap my fingers at him; but how can I, with a paltryeight hundred a year, provide for that woman? Pshaw! If I could butsettle it with a pair of hair-triggers and twenty paces of turf, I'dleave little work for the lawyers!"

  "Well, then, what is to be done?"

  "Only this," replied he, striding impatiently to and fro, like a cagedlion; "I must just bear with my helplessness, and leave the remedy tothose who can oppose skill to skill, and lawyer to lawyer."

  "At all events, you marry the lady."

  "Ay--I marry the lady; but I start to-morrow night for Berlin, _enroute_ for anywhere that chance may lead me."

  "Without her?"

  "Without her. Do you suppose that I would stay in Paris--herhusband--and live apart from her? Meet her, like an ordinaryacquaintance? See others admiring her? Be content to lounge in and outof her _soirees_, or ride beside her carriage now and then, as you orfifty others might do? Perhaps, have even to endure the presence of DeCaylus himself? _Merci_! Any number of miles, whether of land or sea,were better than a martyrdom like that!"

  "De Caylus!" I repeated. "Where have I heard that name?"

  "You may have heard of it in a hundred places," replied my friend. "As Isaid before, the man is a gallant soldier, and does gallant things. Butto return to the present question--may I depend on you to-morrow? For wemust have a witness, and our witness must be both discreet and silent."

  "On my silence and discretion you may rely absolutely."

  "And you can be here by nine?"

  "By daybreak, if you please."

  "I won't tax you to that extent. Nine will do quite well."

  "Adieu, then, till nine."

  "Adieu, and thank you."

  With this I left him, somewhat relieved to find that I had escaped allcross-examination on the score of Madame Marignan.

  "De Caylus!" I again repeated to myself, as I took my rapid way to theHotel Dieu. "De Caylus! why, surely, it must have been that evening atMadame de Courcelles'...."

  And then I recollected that De Caylus was the name of that officer whowas said to have ridden by night, and single-handed, through the heartof the enemy's camp, somewhere in Algiers.