The chevalier and his bodyguard arrived at Master Hugonnet's.
"A bath for me instantly," said Passedix; "and while I am in the water, my page here will take my garments to the cleanser's."
Master Hugonnet escorted the Gascon to the hot baths.
"I do not see your daughter Ambroisine, La Belle Baigneuse," Passedix said to him on the way.
"She is rarely here now, seigneur chevalier; she passes a great part of her time with Madame la Comtesse de Marvejols, who, although she has become agrande dame, has not ceased to be a most affectionate friend to my daughter."
"Oh, yes! I know; I have heard the story of the interesting Bathilde."
"But, in any event, monsieur le chevalier, even if my daughter was here, you would hardly expect her to act as bath attendant for you, I presume?"
"Eh? who the devil said anything about that? Everybody knows that La Belle Baigneuse is as virtuous as sheis cruel. I would like my bath to be rather hot; my page and my esquire will help me to get into it."
In a twinkling the ex-clerks undressed their new master, who entered the water without observing the grimaces and contortions to which the young men were obliged to resort in order to avoid laughing at the aspect of the Gascon's thin, yellow body. Bahuchet hastily made a bundle of the doublet and breeches, took it under his arm, and started for the cleanser's.
"Does monsieur le chevalier wish his esquire to remain in attendance while he is in the bath?" inquired Plumard, when his comrade had gone.
"I do not see the necessity; go out into the street and take the air; but do not go far away, so that you may be at hand to hasten hither if I require your services."
"I will remain below, at the shop door, where I can hear if you ring."
Plumard left the cabinet in which Passedix was bathing. He went downstairs and chatted with Master Hugonnet, who, taking advantage of his daughter's absence, had already emptied several jars of wine with his neighbors, and was consequently in the mood for talking and for drinking more.
A half-hour passed. The Gascon was thinking of Miretta, of his wealth, and of the effect he would produce with a page and an esquire. But after giving sufficient thought to all these subjects, he began to find the time rather long. He pulled a bellrope, and the bathattendant appeared; he was a new servant, who had been in Master Hugonnet's employ but a short time, and seemed as yet unfamiliar with his duties.
"Was it monsieur who rang?"
"To be sure it was I!"
"Does monsieur want anything?"
"As I rang, it is probable that I want something—but not you, sandis! for you seem to me not to be very bright! Send myécuyer[esquire] to me."
"You want yourécu—"
"I said nothing about myécu! I want myécuyer!—Anécuis a shield—perhaps you don't know that, blockhead! A gentleman takes hisécuonly when he is about to go into the lists or into battle. What in the devil do you suppose I want of myécuwhen I am in the bath? Do you imagine that I am going to wield a lance while I bathe?"
"Why, I don't know!"
"Begone, and send my esquire to me!"
The attendant went down into the shop, where he found his master drinking with Plumard and several shopkeepers of the neighborhood.
"Who is the esquire of that tall, lanky, ugly gentleman bathing upstairs?" the attendant asked.
There was no reply; they were all too busily occupied, drinking, talking, and laughing, to pay any heed to what he said. Finding that no one answered him, the attendant calmly took a seat at the rear of the shop, saying to himself:
"The esquire doesn't seem to be here. No matter! it isn't my fault."
After waiting five minutes for his esquire to appear, Passedix concluded to ring again.
"That bath attendant looks so stupid," he thought, "that I'll wager he didn't understand what I said!"
The attendant, seated at the rear of the shop, heard the bell distinctly, but he did not stir; he settled down comfortably in his chair and said to himself:
"There's that tall skeleton ringing again; it can't be anybody else, for there's nobody else in the baths just now.—But it isn't worth while for me to go there, as he wants his esquire and not me.—As if I knew where his esquire is! it's probably that little bit of a fellow that ran off with a bundle under his arm, and he hasn't come back!"
Several more minutes passed, and the bell rang again, more violently.
The attendant kept his seat; it even seemed to amuse him to hear such a merry peal.
Soon the jangling of the bell became incessant; and as there came a moment when no one of the drinkers was speaking, because they were emptying their glasses, Master Hugonnet at last heard thecarillonin which his customer was indulging.
"Someone is ringing! Sarpejeu! someone is ringing! Don't you hear, Jean? you sit there as calmly as you please! Go, see what is wanted."
"Oh! I hear the bell well enough, and I've heard it a long while, monsieur; but it's no use going to see; I have been once."
"But the gentleman in the bath is calling."
"Yes; and I tell you that I went to see what he wanted. He wants his esquire—that's what he wants; but I am not his esquire."
"His esquire!" cried Plumard, placing his glass on the table. "The devil! you should have told me; I am his esquire!"
"I called you, but you didn't answer."
"Fichtre! I am going to be scolded. I must hurry; he is ringing as if he would tear everything to pieces."
Plumard entered the cabinet where Passedix was bathing; he found him exasperated, frantic with rage.
"Did monsieur le chevalier ring?"
"Did I ring! knave! gallows-bird! you presume to ask me! Why, I have been ringing an hour!"
"Don't charge it to me, monseigneur; it's the fault of that fool of an attendant. He said nothing to me; I only learned a moment ago that you wanted me. I am terribly distressed, O my master!"
"I will thrash that attendant when I am out of the bath!"
"You will do well, monsieur le chevalier."
"Tell me, esquire, have you not yet seen my page return?"
"No, monseigneur, not yet."
"It seems to me that he is very long; it is nearly an hour that I have been in the water, and I am beginning to have enough of it!"
"If monsieur le chevalier wishes to get out of the bath——"
"Get out! what in the devil shall I put on? I have neither short-clothes nor doublet; I cannot go into the street in my shirt and cloak simply!"
"That is true; if monseigneur wishes, I will go to see if Bahuchet is coming."
"No, no! Cadédis! I have no desire to be forced to ring another hour, to recall you.—Sandioux! this water is getting cold; my page is making a fool of his master!"
"Perhaps the spots are difficult to remove."
"I am afraid—I am shivering—I shall take cold.—Go, tell the bath attendant to bring me some hot water."
In those days, persons who indulged in baths had not at their hand faucets with which to heat or cool the water at pleasure; bath keepers have progressed, like other people; but at that time the attendant brought water in a pail to put in the bath tub.
Plumard went out to perform his master's commission.
"The fire's out," said the attendant, "there's no more hot water; your tall, withered master has been in the bath more than an hour, and the best thing he can do is to go away; it will take too long to start up the fire again."
"Well-managed baths these, on my word! It's evident enough that Master Hugonnet is drinking and that his daughter is away from home!"
And Plumard returned to the chevalier, who was beginning to shiver.
"I regret to announce, monseigneur, that there is no more hot water in the establishment."
"No more hot water? Cadédis! what does this mean? are they laughing at me?"
"No, my honored master; but the attendant has allowed the fire to go out that heats the water for the baths. Master Hugonnet has been drinking so much with some friends that it is impossible to obtain anything from him!"
"O fair Ambroisine! it is evident that you pass all your time with a countess! These baths are being managed wretchedly; it will be very hot when I bathe here again!—And that rascally page does not return!—I cannot pass the whole day in the water, however; it weakens me terribly!"
"If monsieur le chevalier wishes—there must be some second-hand shop hereabout; I could go there and buy a doublet and a pair of breeches!"
"I' faith! you are right; that is what we should have done long ago.—Here, take my purse, which, luckily enough, I did not leave in my short-clothes, and hasten to buy me something to wear—the first things that you see, provided they are decent."
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And of some light color—they are most becoming to me. Do not consider the price, but make haste, sandioux! for I am all gooseflesh. Have you my purse?"
"Yes, monseigneur; I fly to the second-hand shop."
Plumard left the cabinet, and called to the attendant as he passed through the shop:
"We will do without your hot water; my master is going to leave the bath."
"In that case," said the attendant to himself, as he looked after the esquire, "it seems that the tall, thin man won't want it any more; if he's going to get out of his bath, I can begin to draw the water out of his tub."
He went to a room situated directly beneath the men's bathrooms, pressed a spring corresponding to the tub that he proposed to empty, and opened a cock through which the water ran out of doors.
As for Master Hugonnet, urged by his friends, and no longer in full possession of his reason, he had left his house, to make himself completely drunk at his favorite wine shop.
Passedix sat in his tub, as motionless as a statue, because he knew that the more one moves about, the more quickly the water grows cool. That in his tub had fallen nearly to zero. The poor chevalier turned purple and counted the minutes, saying to himself:
"Capédébious! I trust that my esquire will move more rapidly than my page; I should have left him unrestricted in the matter of colors; he will try to find a pretty shade,and that will delay him.—Well, what does this mean? I have no water on my shoulders! But I had some a moment ago. One would say that my bath was running away! Why, yes—it is not a dream—my water is falling—my breast is dry!—Ah! ten thousand muskets! this is the climax of our adventures!—Who is the gallows-bird, the villain, the blockhead, that amuses himself emptying my bath tub? It must be that dolt of an attendant! By Roland! the rascal shall pay me for this! In a moment I shall be left high and dry, and all naked! This is horrible! May the devil fly away with my esquire and my page!—Let us ring! let us ring!—Ah! I shall not forget this bath!"
Passedix seized the bellrope and pulled it so hard that it broke in his hand; but luckily the attendant heard the bell, and, as he knew that the esquire had gone, he concluded to go up, saying to himself:
"It must be me that this gentleman wants now, as he has sent his servants away; he wants to pay for his bath, I suppose, and give me apourboire."
But he was stupefied, on opening the door of the cabinet, to see the chevalier still naked in the bath tub, where there was no longer a drop of water, glaring savagely at him and threatening him with his fist.
"What! are you taking a dry bath, monsieur?" said the surprised attendant.
"A dry bath, knave! a dry bath, blockhead! Why am I left high and dry in my bath tub? Because you have drawn the water off, I presume!"
"Well! monsieur's esquire called to me when he went out: 'My master's going to leave the bath!' so then I said to myself: 'I can empty the tub.'"
"Ah! you clown, if I die of inflammation of the lungs, you shall pay me for this! I am frozen!"
"But, monsieur, after all, why do you insist on staying in the tub instead of dressing yourself?"
"Dressing myself! They are all in a plot to drive me frantic! Here is my esquire doing just as my page did! He doesn't come back! How well I am served! It was worth while setting up a staff of servants!—Well, I must make up my mind to something. Give me my linen, rascal! and while I am putting it on, that infernal bald-head will return, I trust—or perhaps my page, Bahuchet!"
But Plumard, on leaving Master Hugonnet's house, weighed in his hand the purse that his new master had bade him take. It was a large purse and well filled; the ex-clerk could not resist the desire to know how much it contained; so he stopped, sat on a stone, and counted out in the hollow of his hand twenty-two gold pieces. That amounted to a considerable sum; the ex-Basochian had never possessed so much. The sight of the gold dazzled him; and the numerous bumpers he had drunk at Master Hugonnet's having made him slightly giddy, he passed his hand across his brow and muttered:
"By Saint Grimoire! I shall never earn as much as this in a year, playing the esquire to that long, loose-jointedchevalier. Suppose I should begin by enjoying myself with this money? The opportunity is all the better because I shall not have to share with Bahuchet. I am in luck, on my word! I'll go to the tavern which the pretty girls of the quarter frequent; it's at the Pré-aux-Clercs. I have enough to treat them like a great nobleman!—Oh! I'll wager that they will not refuse to dance a courante or a Périgourd step with me to-night."
And Monsieur Plumard placed the purse in his belt and betook himself to the Pré-aux-Clercs, without another thought for him he had left in the bath.
Bahuchet, having no purse intrusted to him, had been unable to follow the same course of action as his friend Plumard; but other reasons kept him from returning to the chevalier.
Having taken his new master's garments to the cleanser's, where he was told that it would take a long quarter of an hour to remove the spots on the doublet and breeches, the little man left the shop and strolled aimlessly along the street, stopping to look at everything that could possibly amuse him for a moment.
Suddenly, as he was watching two dogs fight, Bahuchet felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and recognized Miretta, the young Marquise de Santoval's pretty lady's-maid.
"I have found you at last, Monsieur Bahuchet," she said; "I have been looking for you all over Paris for a long time."
"You have been looking for me, captivating brunette?"
"Yes; I went to your solicitor's to find you."
"To Maître Bourdinard's?—He dismissed me because I made blots on the paper with my pen, and that wasted the ink. I say! what a skinflint!—So you have been looking for me! I beg you to believe that, if I had known it—— Do you require the services of your humble servant?"
"No, not I, but my mistress, madame la marquise.—Come, come quickly, away from all these people."
"Oh! pardon me, pretty maid, but if I must go to the Hôtel de Santoval again—many thanks! I am not your man! I remember the way I was treated at the time of the last visit I paid you; I remember very well too that, after beating me outrageously with stirrup leathers, the lackeys said: 'This is how you will be received every time that you come to this house!'—After that, you may well be sure that I would not risk the end of my nose there for anything in the world!—Look you—I am entirely devoted to your lovely mistress, but more than all else I love my own shoulders, I have the warmest regard for my ribs, and I have no desire to be cudgelled again!"
"You will not be asked to go to the Hôtel de Santoval again, although everything is changed there now."
"Where are you taking me, then?"
"Wherever you choose; select for yourself the place where you will await my mistress; she will meet youthere, for she is most desirous to speak with you in secret, and to intrust to you a letter for the Comte de Marvejols. If you undertake to deliver the letter, she will give you money, as much as you ask."
"As much money as I ask!—By Mercury! pretty lady's-maid, this deserves consideration!—Moreover, I am too gallant to refuse to hold an interview with your mistress, whom I know to be as generous as she is beautiful.—Faith! so much the worse for my new master; I will tell him that the spots stuck like the devil; I can always find some fable to tell him.—Let us be off."
"Choose the place where you will await my mistress."
"Let me see; I must try to think of a place where there are not too many passers, so that we may talk undisturbed. Yes; I have what we want—on Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, I know a place where there have been no houses built as yet; there is a hollow there, where one can talk as comfortably as in one's own house; and it is not far from madame la marquise's hôtel."
"Let us make haste, then."
Bahuchet and Miretta doubled their pace. The sometime clerk knew his Paris perfectly, and the streets one could take to lessen the distance. In a short time they reached Rue des Francs-Bourgeois. The little man stopped at a vacant lot, where building materials had been dropped.
"This is the place; it is very convenient for a private conversation, you see."
"It is well. Remain here, while I go to fetch my mistress."
"She will not be long?"
"I promise you that she will be here within half an hour."
"Very good! Above all things, do not let her bring one of her tall lackeys with her! If I see one of them in the distance, off I go, and I give you my word that you will not catch me!"
"Do you think that my mistress is setting a trap for you, Monsieur Bahuchet?"
"No, pretty brunette, I certainly do not think that; but, look you, when one has been thrashed as I was, one may well retain some apprehension."
"Fie! a man, and afraid! At least, you should not admit it. I am only a woman, but I have never known what fear is!—Stay here, Monsieur Bahuchet, and fear nothing; you will be handsomely paid."
Miretta fled with the swiftness of a deer; and Bahuchet seated himself on a stone, saying to himself:
"That girl is well fitted to enter one of these new companies of mousquetaires which are said to be forming; I am sure that she would march into fire without a tremor.—After all, I have no occasion for fear; although there are very few passers on this street, still there are some. I myself chose the place of rendezvous.—So the fair Valentine is still in love with the handsome Comte Léodgard! Hum! these women! when a passion has takenfirm root in their heart, all the obstacles they encounter simply whet their appetite.—And that man who is waiting for me in his bathtub? Faith! let him wait! he will be all the cleaner for it! Besides, Plumard is with him; he will tell him lies to keep him patient. But money—all the money I want! That I know is a way of speaking; but still, the fair marchioness is generous—generous and amorous; and she flings her money away freely!"
Bahuchet had not been at his post twenty-five minutes, when he spied two women at the end of the street; one of them, enveloped in a cloak, and with her head covered by a thick veil, glanced occasionally to the right and left. They were the marchioness and her confidante. About fifty yards from Bahuchet, Valentine told Miretta to stop, and went forward alone toward the little ex-Basochian, who bowed low in the distance.
"Here I am, Monsieur Bahuchet; I have not kept you waiting too long, I hope?"
"No, madame. Oh! I knew that with madame la marquise I should not lose my time."
"Do not waste it in empty words. Will you undertake to carry this letter to the Comte de Marvejols?"
"With great pleasure, madame."
"Here it is; accept at the same time this purse, and my promise to give you twice as much as it contains if you bring me a reply from the count—a line written by him."
Bahuchet could hardly hold in his hand the purse that Valentine placed there, it was stuffed so full of goldpieces to its very mouth. He was dazzled; he gazed at the purse in respectful admiration; and when he heard the marchioness promise him twice as much more, his devotion could contain itself no longer, and he cried:
"You shall have a reply from monsieur le comte, madame! You shall have it, even if I have to write it myself!—No, not that; my zeal carries me away; I do not know what I am saying!—But, once more, madame, the count shall send you a reply; I will make it my business."
"You will take this letter to him at once?"
"Yes, madame. Oh! on the instant.—The other man may keep on bathing; I don't care a fig for that!"
"Do you know where the count is now?"
"At his little hôtel in Rue de Bretonvilliers, I presume?"
"No; he is at present at the Hôtel de Marvejols, on Place Royale."
"Very good; I fly thither——"
"One moment! Léodgard is under the same roof with—his wife; you will understand that you must give this letter into his own hands. Do not intrust it to any other person. Ask to speak with the count in private; see to it that there is no one with him when he reads my letter."
"I understand, madame, I understand. Never fear! I see that mystery is necessary; I will act with all prudence."
"Do not say, when you present yourself at the house, that you come from me; in that case, you would not be allowed access to Léodgard!"
"I am not so stupid!—By the way, madame; this reply which, I make no doubt, the count will give me—where shall I deliver it to you?"
"Come here again this evening, at nine o'clock; you will find Miretta here—she will await your coming."
"Very good! And Miretta will—will hand me what madame la marquise is generous enough to promise me?"
"I always fulfil my promises, monsieur."
"Then I will go at once to Place Royale."
"And at nine o'clock this evening——"
"I will return here."
The marchioness joined Miretta and walked rapidly away with her, while little Bahuchet, after fondling for a moment the purse filled with gold, thrust it into his belt, and hastened away toward Place Royale.
And while all these things were happening, the Chevalier de Passedix, clad only in shirt, ruff, and funnel-shaped boots, paced the floor of his bathroom, stamping angrily and muttering:
"Knave of a page! blackguard of an esquire! Where on earth are they? What has become of them? Cadédis! if this is the way those villains serve me, I will kick them out of my employ at the earliest possible moment!—But I shall not have the trouble of doing it if they do not return. Miserable knaves! they have robbed me again!They shall have a taste of Roland!—Woe to them if I ever fall in with them!"
And in his rage Passedix seized his sword, drew it from the scabbard, and threatened everything within his reach; which performance caused the bath attendant, who had remained in one corner of the room, to shudder with fear. At last, losing patience, and feeling extremely cold, Passedix halted in front of him and said:
"We must make an end of this! Come, varlet, take off your short-clothes instantly! be quick about it!"
"Take off my short-clothes! What for?"
"Sandis! so that I may put them on, of course! I can't stand here all day in my shirt!"
"But I have no others, monsieur; and if you take mine, then I shall be in my shirt."
"That makes no difference to me—a terrible calamity, truly, that you should be a little cool in your turn!"
"No, no! I won't give you my short-clothes!"
"Give them to me this instant, knave, and your miserable doublet too, or I'll run you through with Roland!"
Passedix made such a terrible face, and held the point of his sword so near the poor fellow's breast, that he, trembling for his life, quickly removed his doublet and his breeches. The chevalier lost no time in donning them, saying to himself:
"I shall be a horrible-looking creature in this costume! but, after all, it is preferable to being naked!—Now, I will conceal it as well as I can with my cloak.—Come,don't cry, you fool! Do you imagine that I propose to steal your clothes? They will be returned to you as soon as I have been home and have dressed myself in orange, pending the purchase of a lovely costume, new throughout. I shall select a sky-blue this time!—If my people return, you will say to them that I shall expect them at the Hôtel du Sanglier, Place aux Chats; but I begin to doubt whether they will return—the vagabonds!"
And Passedix, having finished his toilet to the best of his ability, left the bathing establishment, grumbling between his teeth:
"These breeches are horribly unbecoming to me!—O my esquire! O my page! you shall pay me for all this!"
Léodgard had recovered his health; he was entirely cured; still, he had not left the abode of his ancestors. More than once he had formed the plan of returning to hispetite maisonin Rue de Bretonvilliers; but whenever he had that idea, little Blanche was not with him. As soon as his daughter appeared, as soon as she came running into the room, smiling and holding out her little arms to him, all thought of going away was forgotten;the time passed so quickly with the child, and so pleasantly!
Blanche remained with her father almost all day; Bathilde deprived herself of the pleasure of having her child with her, because she felt that Blanche's presence alone detained Léodgard at the Hôtel de Marvejols. But when the little one had been away from her mother several hours in succession, she always asked to see her; for, in that loving heart, the love that she felt for the count in no wise diminished her affection for her mother.
And one day, when Blanche, having remained longer than usual with Léodgard, asked to go back to her mother, and he, holding her in his arms, would have kept her longer, the child suddenly said to him:
"Well! send for mamma to come here; then I will not ask to go away, because I shall be with both of you."
To this very natural suggestion the count made no reply; he simply cast down his eyes and sighed; but Blanche at once continued:
"Why doesn't mamma ever come here with me? When I ask her to, she always says: 'That would annoy monsieur le comte.'—Are youmonsieur le comte?"
"To be sure," Léodgard replied, with a smile.
"Well! don't you want to have mamma come? Has she been naughty?"
Léodgard did not quite know what to say; children always go straight to the point with their questions, andoften embarrass the persons to whom they propound them, because grown people are unable to answer as frankly as they are questioned.
But at that moment Bathilde, being anxious about her daughter, who did not usually remain so long in her father's apartment, drew the portière aside and stopped timidly in the doorway.
"Excuse me, monsieur le comte," she said, "for coming here unsummoned. But my daughter did not return, and I was afraid that she was not well."
Léodgard looked up at Bathilde. For the first time since she had been his wife, he observed her with attention; he was surprised at the changes for the better that had taken place in her whole person. On becoming a countess, the bath keeper's daughter had undergone a transformation. Endowed by nature with angelic beauty, she possessed now, in addition, grace, distinction, and refinement; she fascinated by her mere presence; one felt drawn toward her; and having no suspicion of her power, Bathilde augmented it by the charm of her smile and the sweet quality of her voice.
One would have said that Léodgard remarked all this as if he had never before looked at his wife; and Bathilde, who had not seen the count scrutinize her with so much interest for a long time, felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as if beneath the flame of a lover's glance. But in her eyes her husband was still the most beloved of lovers; she did not know which way to turn; yet she was happy,very happy; she began to hope that Léodgard might love her once more.
Blanche jumped down from her father's knee and ran to her mother.
"I wanted to come to see you," she said; "but papa didn't want to let me go. Now you are here, and Blanche is very glad! After this, you'll come here with me, won't you?"
Bathilde looked at her daughter and did not reply.
But Léodgard bent his head before his young wife, and said in a gracious tone:
"When you choose to come here, madame, you will always be welcome."
"You are too kind, monsieur le comte," faltered Bathilde, who felt that sobs would soon stifle her voice, and who longed, but did not yet dare, to throw herself into her husband's arms. She hastily led her daughter from the room and returned to her own apartment. There she took Blanche in her arms, strained her to her heart, and bathed her with her tears.
"You crying, mamma?" said Blanche.
"Oh! it is with pleasure, with happiness this time, my darling; and this happiness too I owe to you!"
On the day following this scene, about four in the afternoon, a servant entered the apartment of Léodgard, who had his daughter on his knee, and informed his master that a young man had called, saying that he was charged with a message for the Comte deMarvejols and that he desired to be admitted to his presence.
"What is the man's name?" inquired Léodgard.
"He refuses to give it, monsieur le comte; he desires to speak with you alone."
"Admit him."
In a few moments Bahuchet bowed to the floor before the count.
On recognizing the little clerk, his messenger to Valentine, Léodgard was conscious of a thrill of emotion; memories of the past awoke in his heart; and he put Blanche on the floor, saying:
"Go, my child, go to your mother; you may come back to me later."
"Yes, papa!—Oh! what an awfully ugly man!"
And the little girl left the room, taking care to avoid Bahuchet, whose presence seemed almost to terrify her.
"So it is you, messenger of disaster!" said Léodgard, when he and the little clerk were alone; "why have you come here? I did not send for you, I no longer require your services. Tell me—what do you want? Speak!"
"Deign to excuse me for coming, monseigneur; you will understand that it is only because I was requested, even implored, to do so."
"By whom?"
"Does not monsieur le comte divine? By Madame la Marquise de Santoval."
"That woman again! What! after causing me to fight with her husband! after turning me to ridicule so abominably! she dares again—— Well! what does she want with me?"
"This letter will tell you, monseigneur, I do not doubt."
"A letter from her! Ah! this is too much!—Let us see; I am curious to know what she can have to write to me."
Léodgard took the letter, and Bahuchet discreetly withdrew to the other end of the room.
Having hastily broken the seal, Léodgard read these words, written by Valentine:
"You have showered the most terrible epithets upon me, doubtless; I deserve them; I made a mock of you, it is true; but do you, in your turn, recall your conduct: I was to have been your wife, you preferred a bath keeper's daughter to me! I determined to be revenged, because I loved you in secret, because that love made even deeper the wound you had inflicted on me. I married the Marquis de Santoval, whom I did not love; but I knew his temperament, and I desired an avenger. Since that duel, in which he narrowly missed killing you, I have been unable to endure the marquis's presence; I can live with that man no longer—he is hateful to me.—Léodgard, you know every part of my conduct; if you had died of your wound, I should have killed myself in order not to survive you; for I love you still. Tell methat you forgive me, tell me that you will take me away from the Marquis de Santoval. I wish to see you, to speak with you. In pity's name, write me a few words in reply, and appoint a rendezvous for to-morrow, though it be but for a few minutes; do not refuse me!"VALENTINE."
"You have showered the most terrible epithets upon me, doubtless; I deserve them; I made a mock of you, it is true; but do you, in your turn, recall your conduct: I was to have been your wife, you preferred a bath keeper's daughter to me! I determined to be revenged, because I loved you in secret, because that love made even deeper the wound you had inflicted on me. I married the Marquis de Santoval, whom I did not love; but I knew his temperament, and I desired an avenger. Since that duel, in which he narrowly missed killing you, I have been unable to endure the marquis's presence; I can live with that man no longer—he is hateful to me.—Léodgard, you know every part of my conduct; if you had died of your wound, I should have killed myself in order not to survive you; for I love you still. Tell methat you forgive me, tell me that you will take me away from the Marquis de Santoval. I wish to see you, to speak with you. In pity's name, write me a few words in reply, and appoint a rendezvous for to-morrow, though it be but for a few minutes; do not refuse me!
"VALENTINE."
The perusal of this letter threw Léodgard's mind into confusion; dark clouds gathered on his brow, where something like tranquillity had reigned of late. He rose and paced the floor, in the most intense agitation; it was evident that a battle was raging in the depths of his heart. He read Valentine's letter once more, then seemed to be lost in thought.
"I was led to hope," murmured Bahuchet at last, in a wheedling tone, "that monsieur le comte would give me a word in reply. The lady even went so far as to make me promise not to return without one.—Poor lady! she was so pale, so agitated, so interesting!"
"So you saw her, did you?"
"Yes, monsieur le comte. Her maid, Miretta, had been searching Paris for me for a long time; after asking for me in vain at that miserly solicitor's, who turned me out of doors, with Plumard, for a mere nothing! a trifle!"
"Where did you see the marchioness?"
"On Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, in a little nook I selected. Oh! the lady didn't keep me waiting.—Will monsieur le comte refuse to give me a few words, in hishand? Poor lady! she will do some insane thing, if I do not take her an answer."
"Yes, I am going to write to her.—Ah! so this lady loves me!—Pardieu! I must make sure of that. But woe to her if she deceives me again!"
"I venture to assure monsieur le comte——"
"Hold your peace and let me write."
Léodgard seated himself at his desk and hastily wrote these lines:
"You wish to see me, madame la marquise; you love me, so you say! Although I have difficulty in placing faith in a love which nearly cost me my life, I am too gallant and too brave to decline this new rendezvous, even if I were destined again to find a sword awaiting me instead of a smile.—Until to-morrow, then, at eight in the evening, in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs."
"You wish to see me, madame la marquise; you love me, so you say! Although I have difficulty in placing faith in a love which nearly cost me my life, I am too gallant and too brave to decline this new rendezvous, even if I were destined again to find a sword awaiting me instead of a smile.—Until to-morrow, then, at eight in the evening, in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs."
Léodgard signed this letter and handed it to Bahuchet, who, overjoyed to have obtained a written reply, took a hasty leave, fearing that the count might be tempted to recall the letter he had given him.
When Léodgard was alone, he fell once more into a moody reverie; absorbed by his memories and his new projects, he seemed to have forgotten the present, to have forgotten where he was. In fact, he did not hear Blanche, who returned to the room and stood in front of him for several minutes, amazed that he said nothing to her.
"Papa—I am here—don't you see me?" she murmured at last.
At the sound of Blanche's voice, Léodgard started, almost as if in terror; he gazed at his daughter, but did not smile at her as usual; it seemed that the sight of the child embarrassed him. And little Blanche, accustomed as she was to be kissed and caressed by her father, looked at him with a surprised expression, and said, after a pause:
"Why don't you kiss me to-night, papa? Have I been naughty?"
"No, no; you are not naughty, Blanche; but I was thinking; my mind was on other things."
"Papa, mamma told me to ask you if you would like to have her come here after me to-night; she would like to ever so much; do you want her to?"
"No, no; that cannot be, to-night; another time you may come with your mother; but to-night I must be alone."
And the count rang for a servant and said to him:
"Take my daughter to her mother."
"You send me away so soon, papa!" said Blanche, with a little pout that made her even more bewitching; "why, I haven't had time enough to kiss you; I don't want to go yet!"
"You must obey me, Blanche; I wish it!"
Léodgard said these words in a stern tone, which brought tears to the little angel's eyes, for she was notaccustomed to be spoken to so. She took the servant's hand and was about to leave the room, glancing mournfully at her father. But that glance went to Léodgard's heart; he ran to his daughter, took her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, murmuring:
"I will come back, dear child; yes, you shall see me again."
When the servant had taken Blanche away, the count dressed to go out, buckled on his sword, took his cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and left his apartment, saying to himself:
"Now, I must leave this place and return to my little house in Rue de Bretonvilliers. I should not be free here; and the sight of that child would weaken my resolution.—Dear little darling! with her I had found peace once more; my remorse was almost banished.—Ah! I do wrong to leave her, perhaps; but that letter from Valentine has overwhelmed all my senses; the memory of her beauty—this love that she swears that she has for me—well! the die is cast; I must see that woman again!"
And the count, avoiding the apartments occupied by Bathilde, left the Hôtel de Marvejols with a heavy heart, like a person who submits to fatality.
The next evening, about eight o'clock, the Comte de Marvejols entered the public promenade called the Pré-aux-Clercs; it was an extensive meadow, divided into two parts by a canal called the Petite-Seine, which started from the river to carry water to fill the moats of the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés. At that time some buildings had already been erected on the small Pré-aux-Clercs, and preparations were being made for building on the larger tract, where Rues des Petits-Augustins, de Verneuil, de l'Université, des Saints-Pères, etc., were subsequently laid out.
But the works in progress on the Pré-aux-Clercs still left ample space for walking and for rendezvous; so that spot was a favorite one for duellists and for lovers.
It was quite dark, and Léodgard had not taken a hundred steps on the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs, when a woman stopped before him. Valentine was dressed entirely in black, and her excitement, the pallor of her face, the thrill that ran through her body at sight of the count, seemed to enhance her majestic beauty.
Without a word, she offered her hand to Léodgard, who felt it tremble as he took it in his.
"Come," said Valentine, in a broken voice, "let us sit on this bench. Miretta is watching close by, and we may talk without fear.—Oh! I was still afraid that you would not come, that you had changed your mind; but you believed what I wrote in my letter, did you not? Yes, you must have believed it, as you are here. And now, tell me if you have forgiven me."
As she spoke, Valentine fixed upon Léodgard her lovely black eyes, overflowing with love and fear. Thereupon the passion that that woman had previously kindled in the count's heart broke forth into flame, more ardent, more impetuous, more powerful than ever; and he could only fall at her feet, crying:
"Forgive you! And you tell me that you love me—you confess that only the passion that you felt for me inspired the wish to be revenged!—Ah! am I not too happy to be so loved by you? If I had met the death that I deserved, my fate would have been an enviable one. It is for me, who refused the happiness that was offered me, to implore your forgiveness!"
"Let us not revert to the past.—Léodgard, as I have told you, I love you; and now I can no longer endure the presence of the Marquis de Santoval! If you share my love, I will be yours, but yours alone. Valentine de Mongarcin will never stoop to deceive a man! She will leave that man forever; for, once yours, she will die rather than return to him!—You have heard me, Léodgard. Take me to some other country, beneath a differentsky; whither, it matters not to me, provided that I am with you, that I may fly from a man whom I detest, that I may live for you alone, with you alone!—But until then I will not be your mistress; for, I say again, when I have been once in your arms, I will never return to the Marquis de Santoval."
The thought of abducting Valentine, of taking her away from her husband, made Léodgard's heart beat fast; he could no longer doubt the love of that woman, who offered to sacrifice her reputation, her honor, her exalted position in society, to be his; and she was so lovely, so young, so fascinating, she promised such a wealth of tenderness and rapture, that the count looked forward with ecstatic delight to the moment when that prospect of love and bliss would become a reality.
But a certain reflection occurred to Léodgard's mind and allayed his exaltation in some degree. In these blissful schemes which the imagination conceives, one almost always forgets the most important point, the foundation upon which all the joys of this world rest.
Valentine, who had seen the cloud pass across the count's brow, instantly exclaimed:
"Ah! you hesitate, I see; what I propose appalls you. You would accept me for your mistress, but you are not willing that your life should be mine, that I should be always with you, that we should part no more; you fear to burden yourself with a new chain! You have for me simply one of those fleeting passions which possessionsoon allays.—Ah! that is not the way that I love! But if it is so, we should never understand each other. Let us part, monsieur le comte; for I must have as much love as I give; if not, I want nothing!"
And Valentine had already started to go away, but Léodgard detained her, kissing her lovely hands with passion, and said:
"How ill you judge me, madame! you should read my heart better. I have but one thought, one purpose, one desire; and that is to realize at the earliest possible moment this future of blissful delight which you offer me. I regret that there are no obstacles to surmount, no rivals to fight, in order to possess you! You would find that I should not hesitate. The only thing that may delay us is this—that, before leaving France for a considerable time, I must arrange certain matters of business, dispose of certain property. But be assured that I shall do my best to hasten the moment that is to unite us."
"Forgive me, Léodgard, for misjudging you; and since you love me as I love you, since everything is soon to be common between us, allow me, my friend, to ask you to give me your entire confidence. It may be that what you have in mind at this moment is to procure a considerable amount of money, in order to assure our future existence. But do not disturb yourself about that; I have a fortune, and it does not belong to the Marquis de Santoval. Thank heaven! I can take money with me, much money; and when mine is all gone, then it willbe your turn to draw upon what belongs to you.—Does that arrangement please you?"
"Dear Valentine,—for you will allow me now to address you so,—I am touched by such proofs of your affection; but, I say again, before leaving Paris I must adjust some important matters. I do not need to tell you that henceforth I can think of naught save hastening forward the day that is to mark the beginning of a new life for us!"
"Let it be as you wish, then, my friend; I too will hasten with all my prayers the arrival of that day. You will know now that I am waiting for you, when the time that you fix for our flight has come. Simply send me word on the preceding day. Beginning to-morrow, Miretta will walk here every day at noon, and you will be certain to find her here. As for myself, my departure will not be impeded in any way. Since your duel, the Marquis de Santoval has not the slightest jealous suspicion, and, although he knows that your wound was not fatal, I am at liberty to go and come as I please, without remark from him. However, as we must not defy chance, I will leave you now, Léodgard, and return to the Hôtel de Santoval; and when I see you again, it will be to part no more."
"What!" said Léodgard, pressing Valentine's hand lovingly; "you are free to do as you please, and, before our final union, you will not come once to pay me a visit at my house in Rue de Bretonvilliers?"
"No, monsieur le comte," replied Valentine, in a gentle but firm tone. "As I told you, I do not choose to beyour mistress; I wish to be your wife, and in a foreign land I hope that you will give me that title; for no one will be there to dispute my right to it. Adieu, Léodgard, or, rather, au revoir!"
Signalling to Miretta by coughing loudly, the marchioness joined her maid, and they disappeared among the paths of the Pré-aux-Clercs.
As for Léodgard, he remained a long while on the bench which he had occupied with the marchioness. Absorbed by his thoughts, and sighing profoundly from time to time, he frequently passed his hand across his brow, as if to brush away ghastly memories. At last he rose and walked off in the direction of Rue de Bretonvilliers, saying to himself:
"I must do it! I hoped that I had abandoned that infamous rôle forever; but I have hardly any money—and money I must have; I must have a great deal! Can I think of living constantly at that woman's expense? Shall I confess to her that I have squandered all of the fortune that was left to me? No, no; it is impossible! Fate wills it; and destiny, which has always been favorable to me, will protect me still!"
A few days later, people began to talk once more of the celebrated robber Giovanni, who had reappeared in Paris, and was exhibiting his too famous talent there, as of old. The streets, which had become dangerous once more, were deserted at an early hour. But the lieutenant of police had sworn a mighty oath that he would captureGiovanni this time and would put an end to the reign of terror inaugurated by him. With that end in view, the streets were patrolled by numerous parties of the watch.
One evening, on returning home after passing two or three hours at a large party, the Marquise de Santoval instantly rang for Miretta, and said to her as soon as they were alone:
"Rejoice, little one; it is your turn to be happy; you will be united to the man you love so dearly—unless, indeed, he allows himself to be caught, for the man is playing a bold game."
"What, madame! can it be that——"
"Yes; Giovanni has reappeared in Paris."
"I had heard so; but I dared not believe it."
"You may be certain of it; for the old contractor Ducantal, who was at Madame de Bérienne's this evening, was waylaid last night and stripped clean by Giovanni. We could not help laughing as we heard the story, for the old contractor was frantic with rage. He had just come from a gambling den, where he had won a considerable sum, and it was all taken from him, as well as his diamonds—and he had some very handsome ones!—What intensified Monsieur Ducantal's wrath was that he had with him two great footmen, who, instead of defending him, fled at the robber's approach. But, no matter—you should advise your lover to abandon the trade; it will end badly for him!"
"Oh! I will implore him once more to do so, madame. This very night I will go out in search of him. What joy! I am going to see him again at last, and I had lost all hope!"
"But be prudent—do not run any risk."
"Oh! I am not afraid; and what do I care for danger, so long as I see Giovanni!—Have you any further need of my services, madame?"
"No, I will do without you; I will call Marie. Go; I give you your liberty."
Miretta was no sooner relieved from duty, than she wrapped herself in her cloak, left the hôtel, and wandered about Paris at random. But to no purpose did she search several different quarters, looking into every corner, stopping at the least noise; she met nobody but men, from whom she fled, and whom, by virtue of her agility, she always succeeded in eluding. At daybreak, completely exhausted, she returned to the Hôtel de Santoval, saying to herself:
"I shall be more fortunate to-morrow, perhaps."
The concierge and the servants thought that their mistress's maid went out of nights to meet her lover. But as they knew that Miretta stood high in the marchioness's affections, they contented themselves with making these reflections in an undertone.
The next night, Miretta went out again, but had no better fortune. She did not lose courage, however, for, during the day, in the servants' quarters, she had heardof a recent night attack of which Giovanni was presumed to be the author, and she said to herself that she must surely fall in with him at last.
The third night, Miretta, having turned her steps in the direction of the Arsenal, had just made an examination of Rue Saint-Paul, and was near Rue Saint-Antoine. Fatigued by the constant walking that she had done for three nights, she was beginning to despair of finding her lover; and glancing dejectedly about in all directions, she tried to interrogate the walls and the darkness, as if to ask them if they had seen Giovanni. Suddenly she thought that she heard outcries; she stopped, listened intently, and distinctly heard a cry of "thief!" The sound came from the direction of Rue des Nonaindières; the night was not dark, and at intervals the moon appeared and made it possible to see a considerable distance. Miretta, her heart throbbing violently, stopped at the corner of Rue Saint-Paul and Rue Saint-Antoine; it seemed to her that she heard someone running, and soon several shots rang out almost simultaneously. She felt her strength giving way, for she did not doubt that the shots were fired at Giovanni; she leaned against a house, in order not to fall; but the footsteps of the person running drew near, and in a moment a man flew past her.
"It is he, it is Giovanni!" said Miretta to herself, for she had recognized her lover's peculiar costume; and sheinstantly started to run after him, calling, in a voice which she was careful not to make too loud:
"Giovanni! Giovanni! Have no fear—it is I, Miretta, who follows you. Giovanni! in heaven's name, answer me! If you are pursued, tell me what you wish me to do.—Mon Dieu! I see something on the ground—it is blood that is dropping from you as you run! You are wounded! In the name of heaven, answer me!"
The man whom Miretta was trying so hard to overtake was in fact wounded; a bullet had struck his shoulder; he continued to fly, however; but, as he was entering Place Royale, the pain compelled him to stop a moment. This enabled Miretta to overtake him. At the girl's approach, he tried to resume his flight, but she clung to his clothes, saying:
"Giovanni! Giovanni! pray speak to me! tell me—— Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! this figure—this man is not he!—Oh! you will try in vain to escape me; I will find out who you are; for, if you are not Giovanni, as you wear his costume, it must be that you have killed him!—No, I will not let you go; kill me, if you choose, but I will know who you are!"
As she spoke, Miretta succeeded in seizing the false beard of the man before her; she tore it off, and by the same movement caused the enormous cap that concealed his eyes to fall. At that instant the moon appeared and shone full upon the two, and Miretta was able to examine at her leisure the face of Léodgard.
On recognizing the count, the girl stood a moment as if turned to stone; then a cry escaped from her lips, and she recoiled from him in horror, muttering:
"Ah! that was the reason why I felt a secret terror in that man's presence!"
Taking advantage of Miretta's surprise and stupefaction, Léodgard hastily resumed his flight, running at random. But the blood that he lost in large quantities, and the pain that he felt, caused his strength to fail; he realized that it would soon be impossible for him to stand erect, and he fancied that he heard in the distance the footsteps of soldiers pursuing him. Thereupon, as he tried to recognize his surroundings, to see where he was, he found that he had halted directly in front of the gateway of the ancient mansion of his ancestors. Seizing the knocker, he struck several violent blows. The heavy gate swung open at last; Léodgard passed through and made haste to secure it behind him. Then his strength failed him, and he fell at full length on the pavement of the courtyard.
At that moment the soldiers of the watch entered the square, looking in all directions for Giovanni.
The soldiers who were pursuing the robber had passed Miretta; but when the officer in command saw the girl standing there alone, her whole aspect indicating intense excitement and terror, he stopped and said to her:
"Girl, did you see a man pass, running at full speed—a man enveloped in a broad olive-green cloak, with a great hairy cap on his head?"
"Officer," said one of the soldiers, "here is a cap on the ground; isn't it the brigand's?"
"Mordieu, yes! it is, indeed; exactly as it is detailed in the description of him—in that case, girl, the robber must have stopped on this spot.—Yes, there is blood here, too; that means that we have wounded him.—Come, sacrebleu! answer, my beauty! You look frightened to death; is it because the miserable Giovanni attacked you and robbed you too?"
"Giovanni!" faltered Miretta, shaking her head sadly. "Oh! it is not he! Alas! it is not Giovanni now! I was perfectly sure that he had been murdered!"
"What does she say?—what is this fable you are telling us, girl? did you see the robber pass—yesorno?"
"Yes, I did see him pass; but he is not Giovanni! He wears his clothes, he stole them, doubtless, but I tore off his false beard, and his cap fell at the same time, and I recognized him."
"You recognized——"
After hesitating a moment, Miretta cried at last:
"Ah! why should I have any pity on the man who killed him whom I loved?—No, it is my duty to unmask the infamous villain—to bring upon him the punishment he deserves!"
"Well, girl, will you answer or not? Whom did you recognize?"
"I recognized, in the man you are pursuing, Comte Léodgard de Marvejols!"
"The Comte de Marvejols!" exclaimed the officer, turning to his soldiers; "one of the greatest nobles at court!—Nonsense! the girl is mad!"
"Yes, yes! she doesn't know what she says."
"The fright has disturbed her reason!"
"Ha! ha! that's a likely story! The famous Giovanni is the Comte de Marvejols!—Let us listen no longer to this girl, but continue our search. Let us follow the marks of blood; attention, you fellows! they may guide us to the place where we shall find our robber. And let us take away this cap and false beard, too."
The soldiers went their way. Thereupon Miretta cast a vague, wandering look about her, then hid her face in her hands and wept bitterly, crying:
"O Giovanni! Giovanni! you were very wicked, I know; but I forgave you; and I am sure that by my entreaties I could have persuaded you to abandon your career of crime! I would have brought you back to worthier sentiments. And by prayer and repentance, perhaps you might have obtained God's forgiveness!—But you have been murdered, before you had time to appease the Divine wrath!—Oh! I will avenge you; yes, I will avenge you!"
Somewhat tranquillized by the tears she had shed, Miretta returned to the Hôtel de Santoval, which she reached just at daybreak. She did not try to sleep, for she knew that it would be useless; but she waited anxiously for the time when her mistress could receive her.
The marchioness rang at last, and Miretta answered the bell.
The instant that her eyes fell on the maid's face, Valentine, struck by her pallor and the sinister expression of her eyes, cried:
"Mon Dieu! what has happened to you, Miretta? I read some terrible disaster on your features! You have seen Giovanni—he is arrested—wounded, perhaps?—Pray answer; one would say that you were afraid to speak."
"In truth, madame, what I have to tell you is so horrible—— But you must know it, none the less—you must know, as he really is, the monster to whom you have given your love."
"What! what do you mean? My love!—I do not understand you, Miretta; I am talking of your Giovanni.—what has Léodgard in common with your love affairs?"
"You shall know, madame. Last night, I went out in the hope of at last meeting him whom I have sought in vain for more than three years!—Despite all that I had heard within a few days of new robberies committed by Giovanni, my heart, still depressed, did not throb with that soothing hope which one feels when one is destined to see one's love again!—Ah! there are presentiments that do not mislead us!—Well! as I was standing at the end of Rue Saint-Paul, I heard cries, followed by shots; then a man passed me, flying for his life. I recognized Giovanni's cap and cloak, and I ran after him, supposing him to be my lover; I called to him, I implored him to answer me, to listen to me; I could not obtain a single word. But the fugitive was wounded, he was losing blood; and as he entered Place Royale he slackened his pace, so that I was able at last to overtake him."
"Well! it was Giovanni——"
"For the first moment or two I still thought so, madame; but, surprised by his persistence in trying to continue his flight without answering me, I examined him closely; he was taller than Giovanni, his head was set differently on his shoulders; in short, my heart had already told me—no, it was not Giovanni! The man tried to escape; I clung to his cloak, and he sought in vain to release himself, to shake me off.—Ah! I was very strongthen!—I succeeded in pulling off his false beard and his cap—the moon lighted us perfectly—and in the man who had assumed Giovanni's costume and headgear I recognized Comte Léodgard de Marvejols!"
"Léodgard! Léodgard!" cried Valentine, fastening her eyes upon the girl's, to satisfy herself that she had not gone mad. "Oh! Miretta! what are you saying? Why, you were mistaken—you were misled by an error of your eyesight, by some resemblance perhaps—but that Comte Léodgard should have assumed the disguise of Giovanni—consider, pray, that it is utterly impossible!—With what object would he do it?"
"Why—to do what Giovanni used to do, I presume."
"Oh! Miretta, what you say is shocking! Why, it is utterly devoid of sense, and I blush to think that I have listened to you!"
"I suspected that madame would not choose to believe me; but before long, I trust, the truth will be made known, and madame will be forced to recognize that I am not the dupe of a mere illusion!"
"What! what do you mean? Can it be that you have already had the audacity to spread this hateful falsehood?"
"I have told no falsehood, madame! But when that man, when Comte Léodgard—who recognized me perfectly—had disappeared—and I did not think to look after him, I was so overwhelmed—some soldiers arrived, looking for the robber, whom they believed to be Giovanni;but I undeceived them; I told them who the man was whom they were pursuing and whom they had wounded."
"You accused Léodgard?"
"Once more, madame; I told the truth."
"You are mad, Miretta; for if you reflect an instant, you will understand that you must be mistaken. To make such charges against a man whom I love—— Oh! it is abominable! I ought to drive you from my presence!"
"The soldiers said as you do, madame, that I was mad; but what does it matter to me now what anyone thinks of my words? I know, myself, that I spoke the truth! You bid me reflect, madame! Ah! if I could still doubt what I saw last night, by recalling my memories of the past I should find additional proofs of what I assert.—In heaven's name, madame, allow me to speak; you will still have the right to dismiss me afterward.—I do not know whether you remember a murder that was committed about three years and a half ago—a handsome young man was found in the Fossés-Jaunes, near the Pont-aux-Choux;—the story was told us by that little solicitor's clerk, Bahuchet."
"Yes, I remember very well."
"From that time, madame, I ceased to see Giovanni; it was he, I cannot doubt, who was murdered, and robbed of his weapons and of the costume he wore at night.—Oh! I remember so well now—the description of that young man corresponded exactly with that of Giovanni."
"Assume that it be true—what connection has Léodgard——"
"I beg pardon, madame, but in the servants' quarters the servants of your visitors talk with your own people; and as madame deigned sometimes to talk to me of Comte Léodgard, I paid more attention when others spoke of him; and about that time I often heard it said: 'Oh! Comte Léodgard is an excellent master now! it is not as it used to be when he had not the means to pay his esquire; he must have discovered a gold mine lately, for he has paid all his debts, he has hired a beautiful house in Rue de Bretonvilliers, and he gives superb parties there; in short, it seems that he flings money about with both hands, and he's an excellent master!'—That is what I heard said more than once, madame, about the time when I ceased to see my poor Giovanni!"
Valentine had turned pale, and her brow was covered with a dark cloud; she rose, however, and paced the floor excitedly, muttering from time to time:
"No! no! not if I should hear it a hundred times! Mere conjectures—antechamber gossip, servants' tittle-tattle—what does it all prove? To dare to say that he, Léodgard—so noble and so handsome!—Oh! it is frightful! it is an outrage!"
Then, seized with a sudden idea, she asked abruptly:
"This man who was pursued last night, and whom you claim to have recognized—he was wounded, you say?"
"Yes, madame, and severely wounded, for he lost much blood."
"Where was he wounded?"
"In the shoulder, so far as I could judge—for he put his hand there several times. I think that I divine madame's thought; if it is her wish, I will go to inquire——"
"No, I do not wish you to go out; I will go myself to inquire.—You hear me, Miretta? I forbid you to leave the house before my return."
"I will obey you, madame."
Valentine hastily donned an ample cloak, and a great veil which almost concealed her features; then she betook herself at headlong speed, taking care to avoid the most frequented streets, to Rue de Bretonvilliers, inquired for Léodgard's hotel, and knocked at the gate.
"Is Monsieur le Comte de Marvejols within?"
"No, madame," replied the concierge, who was so impressed by the beauty and the noble air of the lady who questioned him, that he accompanied his reply with a low reverence.
"What! has monsieur le comte gone out so early?" asked Valentine, with a searching glance into the courtyard.
"I have not seen monsieur le comte since last evening, madame; when he goes out, I do not always know it!"
"In that case, how can you be certain that he is not within?"
"Because, madame, there has already been someone here to speak with monseigneur this morning."
"Already! Who, pray?"
"Officers—king's troops! I am not quite sure who they were. However, they were evidently very anxious to see monsieur le comte, for they came in and searched all the wings,—those gentry are very unceremonious,—and when they went away they said: 'He doesn't seem to have slept at home.'"
The marchioness listened to these details with the most intense agitation; then she thanked the concierge and returned swiftly to her own house, unable as yet to believe what Miretta had told her, but none the less a prey to the most acute suffering.
Miretta awaited her mistress in her apartment, and questioned her with her eyes. Valentine threw herself into a chair without uttering a word; but the pallor of her cheeks and the distortion of her features betrayed her suffering; and Miretta, deeply moved by her grief, dared not ask her a question. The two women had been in this position for some time when the Marquis de Santoval entered the room.
Monsieur de Santoval's face wore a more amiable expression than usual; he was almost laughing as he entered his wife's apartment.
"Palsambleu! madame la marquise," he cried, "I must tell you some strange news—a report that is in circulation this morning concerning our dear friend ComteLéodgard de Marvejols. I thought it would amuse you, and that is why I have come to tell you about it."
"What is it, pray, monsieur le marquis?"
"Oh! I must begin by telling you that it is utterly absurd, and that I do not believe a word of it. However, Birague, who has just told me the story, acted almost as if he believed it."
"I am waiting for you to explain yourself, monsieur; but perhaps Miretta's presence embarrasses you?"
"No, she may remain. Indeed, I am confident that your maid will soon hear this ghastly story below stairs; it will certainly make the circuit of the city, and some action will be taken.—Fancy, madame, that Birague was at the office of the lieutenant of police this morning, when he received his reports of the night as usual. One of them was so extraordinary that the lieutenant could not repress an exclamation of surprise as he read it, and he said to Birague:
"'You can never guess what happened last night! My patrols gave chase to Giovanni, who had just attacked someone, and as he ran away they fired at him. Some of the watch pursued him, and at the entrance to Place Royale, where they had lost track of him, they fell in with a young woman, all alone, who seemed terribly frightened. They asked her if she had seen the man they were pursuing; she answered in the affirmative. And, in fact, they picked up at her feet the frightful hairy cap that Giovanni usually wears, anda false beard with which he conceals a large part of his face.'"
"But, monsieur, these details——"
"Pardon, madame; all these details, you will see, are of great importance to the story. The lieutenant of police continued: 'This girl then answered that she had seen the robber, but she added: "You are mistaken; the man you are pursuing is not Giovanni; he is——"' Ah! this is what will surprise you, madame.—'She cried: "The man who is running away, the man who wore this cap and this false beard, is Comte Léodgard de Marvejols!"'—Well! what do you say to that, madame?"
"Really, monsieur, it seems to me so absurd, that I am surprised that anyone can have repeated it!"
"I agree with you. Although I am an enemy of the count, I am capable of doing justice to his valor, his nobility of character—in a word, he belongs to one of the most ancient families of France, whose honor is stainless. When the lieutenant had finished, Birague could not help laughing. Whereupon the official said to him: 'I have ordered the sergeant who was in command of the watch to be sent here. I am going to question him. Remain, if you are interested.' Birague asked nothing better; he remained, and the sergeant of the watch soon appeared. He told a story which corresponded exactly with the report, but added this: 'When we picked up the cap and false beard, we saw blood on the ground,which proved that we had wounded our man.'—'And what did you do then?' asked the lieutenant.—'Monseigneur, as the moon was shining, we followed the blood along Place Royale to a point where it suddenly stopped, as if the wounded man had gone no farther.'—'And you observed that spot?'—'Yes, monseigneur; it was directly in front of the gate of the Hôtel de Marvejols.'—As you may imagine, madame, that fact seemed decidedly strange to the lieutenant as well as to Birague.—'And the girl—what became of her?' monseigneur asked the sergeant, who admitted that he had paid no further attention to her.—'You are a fool!' said the lieutenant; 'you should have arrested the girl and taken her to the guardhouse, and then have brought her before me. When a person presumes to make so serious a charge against one of the first noblemen of the court, she should not be allowed to disappear. From this girl we could ascertain how much truth there is in this story; we could learn whether you had an interview with a madwoman, or with a person who had some reason to hate the count. You must find the girl, sergeant, do you hear? You must find her.'—For my part, I consider that the lieutenant of police was perfectly right, and that the arrest of this girl might lead to some very curious revelations.—What do you think, marchioness?"