CHAPTER XI.FROMthe top of the steps by which one reached the door of the chateau usually inhabited by Madame de Franchi and her son, one could look over the square.This square, so silent the night before, was now full of people, but curiously enough there was not a man to be seen, the crowd was composed of women and children under twelve.On the lowest step of the church door we could perceive a man girdled with a tri-coloured sash. This was the mayor.Under the portico, another man clothed in black was seated at a table. This was the notary, and the written paper under his hand was the act of reconciliation.I took my place beside the table with the sponsors of the Orlandi. On the other sida were the sponsors of the Colona faction. Lucien stood behind the notary so as to show that he acted for both.In the choir of the church one could perceive the priests ready to solemnize the mass.The clock struck ten.At that moment a shiver pervaded the crowd and all eyes were turned towards the end of the street, if one could so call the unequal interval between the houses.Immediately on the mountain side appeared theOrlandi, and in the direction of the river was the Colona, each followed by his partisans, but as had been arranged neither party carried arms.The two chiefs presented a very vivid contrast.Orlandi, as I said, was tall, brown, agile and thin.Colona, on the other hand, was short, stoutish, and vigorous; he had red hair and beard, both of which wore short and curly.Both men carried olive branches, the symbol of peace, which was the idea of the worthy mayor.But besides this olive branch, the Colona held a white fowl by the feet; this bird was destined to replace that which had given rise to the quarrel, and the fowl was alive.This last was a point that had long been discussed, and had very nearly upset the whole arrangement. The Colona looked upon it as a double humiliation to have to render back a living fowl for the one which his aunt had thrown dead in the face of the cousin of the Orlandi.However, by force of reasoning, Lucien had persuaded the Colona to provide the fowl, as he had managed to induce the Orlandi to accept it.When the two rivals appeared, the bells, which until now had been silent, broke forth into a merry peal.When they caught sight of each other both Orlandi and his brother made a similar movement of repulsion, but, nevertheless, they both continued their way.Just opposite the church door they stopped, a few paces only dividing them.If three days previously these men had caught sightof each other within a hundred paces, one of the two certainly would have remained on the field.For about five minutes there was a profound silence, a silence which, notwithstanding the peaceful nature of the ceremony, was anything but pacific.Then at length the mayor spoke.“Well, Colona,” he said, “do you not know that you have to speak first?”Colona made an effort and muttered some words in the Corsican patois.I fancied I understood him to say that he regretted having been in Vendetta with his good neighbour Orlandi, and that he offered in reparation the white hen which he held in his hand.Orlandi waited until his adversary had finished speaking, and replied in some words which I took to be a promise that he would forget everything but the solemn reconciliation that had that day taken place in the presence of Monsieur Lucien and the notary.After that the rivals preserved a dogged silence.“Now, gentlemen,” said the mayor, “you have only got to shake hands.”By a simultaneous movement the rivals clasped their hands behind their backs.The mayor descended from his elevated seat, and seizing the hand of Colona sought for the hand of the Orlandi, and having possessed himself of both he, with some effort, which he endeavoured to conceal with a smile, succeeded in joining the two hands.The notary seized the moment, while the mayor held the two hands together, to stand up and read the deed declaring the feud to be at an end. The document was as follows:—“In the presence of us, Giuseppe Antonia Sarrola, Notary Royal of Sullacaro in the Province of Sartène.“In the grand place of the village opposite the church, in the presence of the mayor, the sponsors, and all the population.“Between Gaetano Orso Orlandi, called Orlandini.“And Marco Vincenzio Colona, called Schioppone.“It is solemnly ratified as follows:—“From this day, 4th of March, 1841, the Vendetta declared between the families shall cease.“From the same period they shall live together as good neighbours and friends, as their relatives did before the unhappy disunion which has so long alienated their families.“In witness whereof they have signed these presents under the portico of the village church, with Monsieur Polo Arbori, mayor of the commune, Monsieur Lucien de Franchi, arbitrator, the sponsors of the two contracting parties, and ourselves the Notary.“Sullacaro, 4th of March, 1841.”I note with admiration that the mayor had very prudently omitted all mention of the hen which had put the Colona in such a bad position with the Orlandi.So the face of the Colona got brighter in proportion as the figure of the Orlandi clouded; the latter looked at the hen which he was holding in his hand as if he had a great idea to throw it in the face of the Colona. But a glance from Lucien de Franchi checked this intention in the bud.The mayor saw that he had no time to lose; he stepped back, holding the hands of the rivals, and without loosing them for a moment.Then, in order to anticipate any discussion at themoment of signature, in view of each considering it a concession to sign before the other, he took the pen and wrote his own name first, and thus converting the shame into an honour, passed the pen to Orlandi, who took it, signed, and passed it to Lucien, who in his turn handed it to Colona, who made a cross.At that moment the Te Deum was chanted as if for a victory.We all signed afterwards, without distinction of rank or title, as the nobility of France a hundred years before had signed the protestation against Monsieur le Due du Maine.Then the heroes of the day entered the church, and knelt in the places appointed for them.I saw that from this moment Lucien appeared perfectly at ease. All had been finished satisfactorily: the reconciliation had taken place not only before man but before Heaven.The service terminated without any incident worth recording; and when it was over, Orlandi and Colona passed out with the same ceremony as before.At the church door, at the instance of the mayor, they once again shook hands; and then each one, attended by his friends and relatives, made his way to his house, which for three years he had not entered.Lucien and myself went back to Madame de Franchi’s house, where dinner awaited us.It is not difficult to perceive by the attentions I received that Lucien had read my name over my shoulder when I was signing the paper, and the name was not altogether unknown to him.In the morning I had announced to Lucien my intention to depart after dinner. I was urgentlyrecalled to Paris by the rehearsals of “Un Mariage sous Louis XV.,” and notwithstanding the importunities of mother and son, I persisted in adhering to my first determination.Lucien then asked permission to take advantage of my offer, and to take a letter to his brother; and Madame Franchi made me promise that I would hand this letter myself to her son.There was really no trouble in the matter, for Louis de Franchi, like a true Parisian as he was, lived at No. 7, Rue du Helder.I asked permission to see Lucien’s room once again, and he himself conducted me thither, explaining everything to me.“You know,” he said, “if anything strikes you I hope you will take it, it is yours.”I unhooked a small poignard hanging in an obscure corner, as if to show that it had no value attached to it; and as I had seen Lucien notice with some curiosity my hunting-belt and its appurtenances, I begged him to accept it, and he had the good taste to take it without being pressed.At that moment Griffo appeared to tell me that the horse was saddled and the guide waiting.I put aside the little present I had intended to give to Griffo, which consisted of a hunting-knife and two pistols attached to it, the barrels of which were hidden in the hilt.I never saw anybody so delighted as he was at this present.I descended, and found Madame de Franchi at the bottom of the staircase, where she was waiting to bid me good-bye, in the same place where she had bade mewelcome. I kissed her hand, feeling great respect for such a simple-minded and yet so dignified a woman.Lucien accompanied me to the door.“On any other day,” he said, “I would saddle my horse, and ride with you beyond the mountain, but to-day I dare not quit Sullacaro for fear that one or other of the newly-made friends might commit some folly.”“You are quite right,” I said; “and for my own part, I am very glad to have assisted at a ceremony so new to Corsica.”“Yes,” he said, “you may well congratulate yourself, for you have to-day witnessed a thing which is enough to make our ancestors turn in their graves.”“I understand—their word was sufficient; they did not need a notary to reconcile them, I suppose?”“They were never reconciled at all.”He then shook me by the hand.“Have you no message for your brother?” I said.“Yes, certainly, if it will not incommode you to deliver it.”“Well, then, let us embrace. I can only deliver that which I am able to receive.” [See “Transcriber’s Note.”]So we embraced each other.“We shall see you again some day?” I said.“Yes, if you come to Corsica.”“No, but won’t you come to Paris?”“I shall never go there,” replied Lucien.“In any case, you will find my card on the mantelpiece in your brother’s room—do not forget the address.”“I will promise you that should any event call me to the Continent you shall have my first visit.”“Very well, that is agreed.”We shook hands once again and parted; but I noticed, so long as he could see me, he followed me with his eyes.All was quiet in the village, although, of course, there was the usual agitation which follows the completion of a great public act; and as I went along the street I sought my friend Orlandi, who had never addressed a word to me, nor even thanked me; and so I passed the last house in the village, and entered the open country without having seen any one like him.I thought he had entirely forgotten me, and under the circumstances I quite excused him, but before I got very far out of the village I perceived a man stride from the underwood, and place himself in the middle of the road. I recognized him at once as the man who in my great regard for appearances, and in my impatience, I had accused of ingratitude.He was dressed in the same costume as he had appeared in the previous evening in the ruins of Vicentello.When I was about twenty paces distant from him he took off his hat; while I spurred my horse so as not to keep Orlandi waiting.“Monsieur,” he said, “I did not wish you to quit Sullacaro without accepting my thanks for the kindness you have shown to a poor peasant like myself, and as in the village I had not the heart, and could not command the language, to thank you, I waited for you here.”“I am obliged to you,” I said; “but it was not necessary to take any trouble about it, and all the honour has been mine.”“And after all, monsieur,” continued the bandit, “the habit of four years is not easily overcome. The mountain air is strong at first, almost suffocating—but now when I go to sleep in a house I should be afraid the roof would fall upon me.”“But surely,” I said, “you will now resume your former habits. I understand you have a house, a field, and a vineyard.”“Yes, but my sister looks after the house; but the Lucquois are there to work in the field, and to raise the grapes. We Corsicans do not work.”“What do you do, then?”“We overlook the labourers. We walk about with a gun upon our shoulders.”“Well, my dear Monsieur Orlandi,” I said, extending my hand, “I wish you good luck; but recollect that my honour as well as your own will be compromised if you fire at anything but game or wild animals. You must never on any account draw a trigger on the Colona family.”“Ah! your Excellency,” he replied, with an expression of countenance which I never remarked except amongst the natives of Normandy, “that hen they gave us was a very thin one.”And without another word he disappeared in the brushwood.I continued my journey thinking that it was very likely that the meagre fowl would be the cause of another rupture between the Orlandi and the Colona.That evening I slept at Albitucia, next day I reached Ajaccio.Eight days afterwards I was in Paris.CHAPTER XII.THEday I arrived in Paris I called upon M. Louis de Franchi. He was not at home.I left my card, with an intimation that I had just returned from Sullacaro, and that I was the bearer of a letter from M. Lucien, his brother. I inquired when he would be at home, as I had undertaken to deliver the letter with my own hand.To conduct me to his master’s study, where I wished to write a note, the valet led me through the dining-room and thesalon.I looked around me as I proceeded with a curiosity which will be understood, and I recognized the influence of the same taste which I had already perceived at Sullacaro; only the taste was here set off by true Parisian elegance. M. Louis de Franchi certainly appeared to have a very charming lodging for a bachelor.Next morning, about eleven o’clock, my servant announced M. Louis de Franchi. I told the man to offer my visitor the papers and to say that I would wait on him as soon as I was dressed.In five minutes I presented myself.M. Louis do Franchi who was, no doubt from a sense of courtesy, reading a tale I had contributed toLa Presse,raised his head as the door opened, and I entered.I stood perfectly astounded at the resemblance between the two brothers. He rose.“Monsieur,” he said, “I could scarcely credit my good fortune when I read your note yesterday on my return home. I have pictured you twenty times so as to assure myself that it was in accord with your portraits, and at last I, this morning, determined to present myself at your house without considering the hour, and I fear I have been too early.”“I hope you will excuse me if I do not at once acknowledge your kindness in suitable terms, but may I inquire whether I have the honour to address M. Louis or M. Lucien de Franchi?”“Are you serious? Yes, the resemblance is certainly wonderful, and when I was last at Sullacaro nearly every one mistook one of us for the other, yet, if he has not abjured the Corsican dress, you have seen him in a costume, which would make a considerable difference in our appearance.”“And justly so,” I replied; “but as chance would have it, he was, when I left, dressed exactly as you are now, except that he wore white trowsers, so that I was not able to separate your presence from his memory with the difference in dress of which you speak, but,” I continued, taking the letter from my pocket-book, “I can quite understand you are anxious to have news from home, so pray read this which I would have left at your house yesterday had I not promised Madame de Franchi to give it to you myself.”“They were all quite well when you left, I hope?”“Yes, but somewhat anxious.”“On my account?”“Yes; but read that letter, I beg of you.”“If you will excuse me.”So Monsieur Franchi read the letter while I made some cigarettes. I watched him as his eyes travelled rapidly over the paper, and I heard him murmur, “Dear Lucien, Darling Mother——yes——yes——I understand.”I had not yet recovered from the surprise the strange resemblance between the brothers had caused me, but now I noticed what Lucien had told me, that Louis was paler, and spoke French better than he did.“Well,” I said when he had finished reading the letter, and had lighted the cigarette, “You see, as I told you, that they are anxious about you, and I am glad that their fears are unfounded.”“Well, no,” he said gravely, “not altogether; I have not been ill, it is true, but I have been out of sorts, and my indisposition has been augmented by this feeling that my brother is suffering with me.”“Monsieur Lucien has already told me as much, and had I been sceptical I should now have been quite sure that what he said was a fact. I should require no further proof than I now have. So you, yourself, are convinced, monsieur, that your brother’s health depends to a certain extent on your own.”“Yes, perfectly so.”“Then,” I continued, “as your answer will doubly interest me, may I ask, not from mere curiosity, if this indisposition of which you speak is likely soon to pass away?”“Oh, you know, monsieur, that the greatest griefs give way to time, and that my heart, even if seared, will heal. Meantime, however, pray accept my thanks oncemore, and permit me to call on you occasionally to have a chat about Sullacaro.”“With the greatest pleasure,” I replied; “but why not now continue our conversation, which is equally agreeable to both of us. My servant is about to announce breakfast. Will you do me the honour to join me, and we can talk at our ease?”“I regret that it is impossible; I have an appointment with the Chancellor at twelve o’clock, and you will understand that such a young advocate as I am cannot afford to stay away.”“Ah, it is probably only about that Orlandi and Colona affair, as you, no doubt, are aware, and I can re-assure you on that point, for I myself signed the contract as sponsor for this Orlandi.”“Yes, my brother said as much.”“But,” he added, looking at his watch, “it is nearly twelve o’clock; I must go and inform the Chancellor that my brother has redeemed my word.”“Ah, yes, most religiously, I can answer for that.”“Dear Lucien, I knew quite well, though our sentiments do not agree on this point, that he would do it for me.”“Yes, and I assure you it cost him something to comply.”“We will speak of all this later, for you can well understand how pleasant it is for me to re-visit with your assistance my mother, my brother, and our home surroundings, so if you will tell me when you are disengaged——”“That will be somewhat difficult; for this next few days I shall be very busy, but will you tell me where I am likely to find you.”“Listen,” he said, “to-morrow is Mi-Careme, is it not?”“To-morrow?”“Yes.”“Well?”“Are you going to the Opera Ball?”“Yes and No. Yes, if you will meet me there. No, if I have no object in going.”“I must go, I am obliged to be there.”“Ah, yes,” I said laughing, “I understand, as you said just now, time heals up the greatest griefs, and your seared heart must be healed.”“You are under a misapprehension, for I shall probably sustain new tortures by going.”“Then do not go.”“But what is one to do in this world? We cannot always do what we want; I am dragged thither by fate in spite of myself. I know I had better not go, and nevertheless I shall go.”“Well, then, to-morrow, at the Opera.”“Yes, agreed.”“At what time?”“Half-past twelve midnight, if that will suit you.”“And whereabouts?”“In thefoyer—at one, I will be in front of the clock.”“That is understood.”We then shook hands and he left the house quickly. It was on the stroke of twelve.As for me, I occupied myself all the afternoon and all the next day in those employments as a man is obliged to undertake on his return from a lengthened tour.At half-past twelve o’clock at night I was at the rendezvous.Louis had been waiting some time—he had been following a mask which he thought he recognized, but the lady had been lost in the crowd, and he had not been able to rejoin her.I wished to speak of Corsica, but Louis was too absent to follow out such a grave subject of conversation. His eyes were constantly fixed on the clock, and suddenly he rushed away from my side, exclaiming:“Ah, there is my bouquet of violets.”He pushed through the crowd to join a woman who, evidently with a purpose, was holding a large bouquet of violets in her hand.There were bouquets of every species in the foyer, and I myself was soon accosted by a bouquet of camellias, which congratulated me upon my safe return to Paris.To the camellias succeeded a bouquet of rose-pompons.To these succeeded a bouquet of heliotrope.In fact I was engaged with my fifteenth bouquet when I encountered D——.“Ah, is it you,mon cher?” he cried. “Welcome back; you have returned just in time. I have a little supper party this evening—so-and-so and so-and-so—and we shall count upon you.”“A thousand thanks, my dear fellow; but though I am strongly tempted to accept your invitation, I can’t. I am engaged to somebody.”“Yes; but everyone else will bring somebody also,” said D——. “It is quite understood that there are tobe six water-bottles, whose destiny it is to refresh bouquets.”“Ah, you are mistaken. I shall have no bouquet to put in a water-bottle; I am with a friend.”“Well, you know the proverb, ‘Friends of our friends.’ ”“It is a young gentleman whom you do not know.”“Well, then, we will make his acquaintance.”“I will tell him of his good fortune.”“Yes, and if he decline, bring him by force.”“I will do what I can, I promise you. At what time?”“Three o’clock; but as supper will remain on table till six you have ample margin.”“Very well.”A bouquet of myosotis, which perhaps had heard the latter portion of our conversation, then took D——’s arm and walked on with him.Shortly afterwards I met Louis, who had by this time got rid of his violets.As the lady who honoured me with her attention just then was a trifle dull, I despatched her to one of my friends, and took Louis’ arm.“Well,” I said, “have you learnt what you wanted to know?”“Oh, yes! You know that at a masked ball people talk of the very things they ought to leave you in ignorance of.”“My poor friend,” I said, “pardon me for thus addressing you; but it appears to me that I know you since I have known your brother. Look here—you are unhappy, are not you? Now what is it?”“Oh, my goodness! Nothing worth talking about.”I saw that he did not wish to speak on the subject, so I said no more.We took two or three turns in silence.—I was quite indifferent, for I expected nobody, but he was anxiously examining every domino that passed.At length I said, “Do you know what you might do to-night?”He started like a man suddenly aroused.“I! No. I beg your pardon; what did you say?”“I was about to propose a distraction which it seems to me you need.”“What is it?”“Come to supper with a friend of mine, with me.”“Oh, no—I am not in a festive humour.”“Bah! They will talk nothing but nonsense, and that will amuse you.”“Well—but I am not invited!”“You mistake—for you are.”“It is very kind on your part—but ’pon my word I am not worthy of—”Just then we crossed D——. He seemed very much engaged with his bouquet of myosotis. Nevertheless he saw me.“Well,” he said, “is it settled? Three o’clock.”“Less settled than ever,” I replied—“I cannot join you.”“Go to the Devil, then!”And with this pious ejaculation he continued his course.“Who is that gentleman?” inquired Louis.“That is D——, one of my friends; a very cheerful youth, though he is the manager of one of our most respectable papers.”“Monsieur D——!” exclaimed Louis. “Do you knowhim?”“Certainly. I have known him for some years.”“And is he the person with whom you are invited to sup this evening?”“Yes, the same.”“Then it was to his house you intended to take me?”“Yes.”“Then that alters the case. I accept, and with very great pleasure.”“All right. That settles the question.”“Perhaps, after all, I ought not to go,” muttered Louis, smiling sadly. “But you remember what I said yesterday about my destiny. Here is the proof. I should have done better not to have come here this evening.”At this moment we again encountered D——. “My dear fellow,” I said, “I have changed my mind!”“And you will join us?”“Yes.”“Bravo! But I ought to mention one thing.”“That is?”“That whoever sups with us to-night, sups with us again to-morrow evening.”“By what law of society is that?”“By the laws of the wager made with Chateau Renaud.”I felt Louis’ arm quiver as it rested on mine—Iturned round; but though his face was deadly pale, it was impassable.“What is the wager?” I inquired.“Oh, it would occupy too much time to repeat here, and, besides, some one interested might overhear, and it might thus be lost.”“What wonderful discretion you possess! At three, then.”“At three!”Once more we separated, and as I glanced at the clock I saw it then was thirty-five minutes past two.“Do you know this M. de Chateau Renaud?” asked Louis, who vainly attempted to command his voice, and to conceal his emotion.“Only by sight. I have met him occasionally in society.”“Then he is not a friend of yours?”“Not even an acquaintance.”“Ah, so much the better,” replied Louis.“Why so?”“For no particular reason.”“But do you know him?”“Indirectly.”Notwithstanding this evasive answer, it was easy to perceive that between Louis and Chateau Renaud there existed one of those mysterious bonds which could only be forged by a woman. An instinctive feeling assured me that it would be best for all if he and I returned home quietly.“Will you take my advice, Monsieur de Franchi,” I said.“About what? tell me!”“Do not go to supper at D——’s house.”“Why not? Does he not expect us. Have you not told him that you will bring a friend?”“Yes, but that is not the point.”“What is the point then?”“I am sure you had better not go, that is all!”“But surely you have some reason to give for your change of opinion; just now you were insisting on my presence at D——’s against my will.”“I did not then know that we should meet Chateau Renaud.”“But that is all the better. I believe he is a very pleasant companion, and I shall be glad to make his acquaintance.”“Very well,” I replied—“so be it. Shall we go now?”We accordingly went downstairs for our paletots.D—— lived within a short distance of the opera house, the morning was very fine, and I hoped that the open air would enliven my companion. So I proposed that we should walk, and this he agreed to.CHAPTER XIII.WEfound many of my friends assembled—habitués of the opera lobbies and of the greenroom, and, as I had expected, a few unmasked “bouquets” anxious for the time to come when the water-bottles would be used—supper time!I introduced Louis to several friends, and it is needless to say that he was politely received and welcomed.Ten minutes after our arrival D—— entered, accompanied by his bouquet of myosotis, who unmasked herself with a freedom and precision which argued a long acquaintance with these sort of parties.I introduced Louis to D——.“Now,” said B——, “if all the presentations have been made, I suggest that we present ourselves at table.”“All the presentations are made, but all the guests have not arrived,” replied D——.“Who is expected then?”“Chateau Renaud is still wanting to complete the party.”“Ah, just so. By-the-by, was there not some bet?”“Yes. We laid a wager of a supper for twelve, that he would not bring a certain lady here to-night.”“And who is the lady,” asked the bouquet of myosotis, “who is so very shy as to be made the subject of a bet?”I looked at Louis de Franchi. He was outwardly composed, but pale as a corpse.“Faith, I don’t know that there is any great harmin telling you her name, especially as none of you know her I think. She is Madame——”Louis placed his hand upon D——’s arm.“Monsieur,” he said; “will you grant me a favour? As a new acquaintance I venture to ask it!”“What is it, monsieur?”“Do not name the lady who is expected with M. de Chateau Renaud, you know she is a married woman!”“Oh yes, but her husband is at Smyrna, in the East Indies, in Mexico, or some such place. When a husband lives so far away it is nearly the same as having no husband at all.”“Her husband will return in a few days. I know him. He is a gallant fellow. I would wish, if possible, to spare him the chagrin of learning on his return that his wife had made one at this supper-party.”“Excuse me, monsieur,” said D——, “I was not aware that you are acquainted with the lady, and I did not think she was married. But since you know her and her husband——”“I do know them.”“Then we must exercise greater discretion. Ladies and gentlemen, whether Chateau Renaud comes or not—whether he wins or loses his bet, I must beg of you all to keep this adventure secret.”We all promised, not because our moral senses were offended, but because we were hungry and wished to begin our supper.“Thank you, monsieur,” said Louis to D——, holding out his hand to him. “I assure you you are acting like a thorough gentleman in this matter.”We then passed into the supper-room, and each one took his allotted place. Two chairs were vacant, thosereserved for Chateau Renaud and his expected companion.The servant was about to remove them.“No,” said the master, “let them remain; Chateau Renaud has got until four o’clock to decide his wager. At four o’clock if he is not here he will have lost.”I could not keep my eyes from Louis de Franchi; I saw him watching the timepiece anxiously. It was then 3.40A.M.“Is that clock right?” asked Louis.“That is not my concern,” said D——, laughing. “I set it by Chateau Renaud’s watch, so that there may be no mistake.”“Well, gentlemen,” said the bouquet of myosotis, “it seems we cannot talk of anything but Chateau Renaud and his unknown fair one. We are getting horribly ‘slow,’ I think.”“You are quite right, my dear,” replied V——. “There are so many women of whom we can speak, and who are only waiting to be spoken to——”“Let us drink their health,” cried D——.So we did, and then the champagne went round briskly; every guest had a bottle at his or her elbow.I noticed that Louis scarcely tasted his wine; “Drink, man!” I whispered: “don’t you see that she will not come?”“It still wants a quarter to four,” said he; “at four o’clock, even though I shall be late in commencing, I promise you I will overtake some of you.”“Oh, very well!” I replied.While we had been exchanging these few words in a low tone, the conversation had become general around the table. Occasionally D—— and Louis glanced atthe clock, which ticked regularly on without any care for the impatience of the two men who were so intent upon its movements.At five minutes to four I looked at Louis.“To your health,” I said.He took his glass, smiled, and raised it to his lips. He had drunk about half its contents when a ring was heard at the front door.I did not think it possible that Louis could become any paler than he was, but I saw my mistake then.“ ’Tis he,” he muttered.“Yes, but perhaps he may have come alone,” I replied.”We shall see in a moment.”The sound of the bell had attracted everybody’s attention, and the most profound silence suddenly succeeded the buzz of conversation which had till then prevailed.Then the sound of talking was heard in the anteroom.D—— rose and opened the door.“I can recognize her voice,” said Louis, as he grasped my arm with a vice-like grip.“We shall see! wait! be a man!” I answered. “It must be evident that if she has thus come to supper with a man, of her own will, to the house of a stranger, she is not worthy your sympathy.”“I beg, madam, that you will enter,” said D——’s voice in the outer room. “We are all friends here I assure you.”“Yes, come in, my dear Emily,” said M. de Chateau Renaud, “you need not take off your mask if you do not wish to do so.”“The wretch,” muttered Louis.At that moment a lady entered, dragged in rather than assisted by D——, who fancied he was doing the honours, and by Chateau Renaud.“Three minutes to four,” said Chateau Renaud to D——, in a low voice.“Quite right, my dear fellow, you have won.”“Not yet, monsieur,” said the young unknown addressing Chateau Renaud, and drawing herself up to her full height. “I can now understand your persistence. You laid a wager that I would sup here. Is that so?”Chateau Renaud was silent. Then addressing D——, she continued.“Since this man cannot answer, will you, monsieur, reply. Did not M. de Chateau Renaud wager that he would bring me here to supper to-night?”“I will not hide from you, madame, that he flattered us with that hope,” replied D——.“Well, then, M. de Chateau Renaud has lost, for I was quite unaware he was bringing me here. I believed we were to sup at the house of a friend of my own. So it appears to me that M. de Chateau Renaud has not won his wager.”“But now you are here, my dear Emily, you may as well remain; won’t you? See, we have a good company and some pleasant young ladies too!”“Now that I am here,” replied the unknown, “I will thank the gentleman who appears to be the master of the house for the courtesy with which he has treated me. But as, unfortunately, I cannot accept his polite invitation I will beg M. Louis de Franchi to see me home.”Louis with a bound placed himself between the speaker and Chateau Renaud.“I beg to observe, madam,” said the latter between his shut teeth, “that I brought you hither and consequently I am the proper person to conduct you home.”“Gentlemen,” said the unknown, “you are five, I put myself into your honourable care. I trust you will defend me from the violence of M. de Chateau Renaud!”Chateau Renaud made a movement. We all rose at once.“Very good, madame,” he said. “You are at liberty. I know with whom I have to reckon.”“If you refer to me, sir,” replied Louis de Franchi with an air of hauteur impossible to describe, “you will find me all day to-morrow at the Rue du Helder, No. 7.”“Very well, monsieur. Perhaps I shall not have the pleasure to call upon you myself, but I hope that two friends of mine may be as cordially received in my place.”“That was all that was necessary,” said Louis, shrugging his shoulders disdainfully. “A challenge before a lady! Come, madame,” he continued, offering his arm. “Believe me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the honour you do me.”And then they left the room, amidst the most profound silence.“Well, gentlemen, so it seems I have lost,” said Chateau Renaud, when the door closed. “That’s all settled! To-morrow evening all of you sup with me at the Frères Provençaux.”
FROMthe top of the steps by which one reached the door of the chateau usually inhabited by Madame de Franchi and her son, one could look over the square.
This square, so silent the night before, was now full of people, but curiously enough there was not a man to be seen, the crowd was composed of women and children under twelve.
On the lowest step of the church door we could perceive a man girdled with a tri-coloured sash. This was the mayor.
Under the portico, another man clothed in black was seated at a table. This was the notary, and the written paper under his hand was the act of reconciliation.
I took my place beside the table with the sponsors of the Orlandi. On the other sida were the sponsors of the Colona faction. Lucien stood behind the notary so as to show that he acted for both.
In the choir of the church one could perceive the priests ready to solemnize the mass.
The clock struck ten.
At that moment a shiver pervaded the crowd and all eyes were turned towards the end of the street, if one could so call the unequal interval between the houses.
Immediately on the mountain side appeared theOrlandi, and in the direction of the river was the Colona, each followed by his partisans, but as had been arranged neither party carried arms.
The two chiefs presented a very vivid contrast.
Orlandi, as I said, was tall, brown, agile and thin.
Colona, on the other hand, was short, stoutish, and vigorous; he had red hair and beard, both of which wore short and curly.
Both men carried olive branches, the symbol of peace, which was the idea of the worthy mayor.
But besides this olive branch, the Colona held a white fowl by the feet; this bird was destined to replace that which had given rise to the quarrel, and the fowl was alive.
This last was a point that had long been discussed, and had very nearly upset the whole arrangement. The Colona looked upon it as a double humiliation to have to render back a living fowl for the one which his aunt had thrown dead in the face of the cousin of the Orlandi.
However, by force of reasoning, Lucien had persuaded the Colona to provide the fowl, as he had managed to induce the Orlandi to accept it.
When the two rivals appeared, the bells, which until now had been silent, broke forth into a merry peal.
When they caught sight of each other both Orlandi and his brother made a similar movement of repulsion, but, nevertheless, they both continued their way.
Just opposite the church door they stopped, a few paces only dividing them.
If three days previously these men had caught sightof each other within a hundred paces, one of the two certainly would have remained on the field.
For about five minutes there was a profound silence, a silence which, notwithstanding the peaceful nature of the ceremony, was anything but pacific.
Then at length the mayor spoke.
“Well, Colona,” he said, “do you not know that you have to speak first?”
Colona made an effort and muttered some words in the Corsican patois.
I fancied I understood him to say that he regretted having been in Vendetta with his good neighbour Orlandi, and that he offered in reparation the white hen which he held in his hand.
Orlandi waited until his adversary had finished speaking, and replied in some words which I took to be a promise that he would forget everything but the solemn reconciliation that had that day taken place in the presence of Monsieur Lucien and the notary.
After that the rivals preserved a dogged silence.
“Now, gentlemen,” said the mayor, “you have only got to shake hands.”
By a simultaneous movement the rivals clasped their hands behind their backs.
The mayor descended from his elevated seat, and seizing the hand of Colona sought for the hand of the Orlandi, and having possessed himself of both he, with some effort, which he endeavoured to conceal with a smile, succeeded in joining the two hands.
The notary seized the moment, while the mayor held the two hands together, to stand up and read the deed declaring the feud to be at an end. The document was as follows:—
“In the presence of us, Giuseppe Antonia Sarrola, Notary Royal of Sullacaro in the Province of Sartène.
“In the grand place of the village opposite the church, in the presence of the mayor, the sponsors, and all the population.
“Between Gaetano Orso Orlandi, called Orlandini.
“And Marco Vincenzio Colona, called Schioppone.
“It is solemnly ratified as follows:—
“From this day, 4th of March, 1841, the Vendetta declared between the families shall cease.
“From the same period they shall live together as good neighbours and friends, as their relatives did before the unhappy disunion which has so long alienated their families.
“In witness whereof they have signed these presents under the portico of the village church, with Monsieur Polo Arbori, mayor of the commune, Monsieur Lucien de Franchi, arbitrator, the sponsors of the two contracting parties, and ourselves the Notary.
“Sullacaro, 4th of March, 1841.”
I note with admiration that the mayor had very prudently omitted all mention of the hen which had put the Colona in such a bad position with the Orlandi.
So the face of the Colona got brighter in proportion as the figure of the Orlandi clouded; the latter looked at the hen which he was holding in his hand as if he had a great idea to throw it in the face of the Colona. But a glance from Lucien de Franchi checked this intention in the bud.
The mayor saw that he had no time to lose; he stepped back, holding the hands of the rivals, and without loosing them for a moment.
Then, in order to anticipate any discussion at themoment of signature, in view of each considering it a concession to sign before the other, he took the pen and wrote his own name first, and thus converting the shame into an honour, passed the pen to Orlandi, who took it, signed, and passed it to Lucien, who in his turn handed it to Colona, who made a cross.
At that moment the Te Deum was chanted as if for a victory.
We all signed afterwards, without distinction of rank or title, as the nobility of France a hundred years before had signed the protestation against Monsieur le Due du Maine.
Then the heroes of the day entered the church, and knelt in the places appointed for them.
I saw that from this moment Lucien appeared perfectly at ease. All had been finished satisfactorily: the reconciliation had taken place not only before man but before Heaven.
The service terminated without any incident worth recording; and when it was over, Orlandi and Colona passed out with the same ceremony as before.
At the church door, at the instance of the mayor, they once again shook hands; and then each one, attended by his friends and relatives, made his way to his house, which for three years he had not entered.
Lucien and myself went back to Madame de Franchi’s house, where dinner awaited us.
It is not difficult to perceive by the attentions I received that Lucien had read my name over my shoulder when I was signing the paper, and the name was not altogether unknown to him.
In the morning I had announced to Lucien my intention to depart after dinner. I was urgentlyrecalled to Paris by the rehearsals of “Un Mariage sous Louis XV.,” and notwithstanding the importunities of mother and son, I persisted in adhering to my first determination.
Lucien then asked permission to take advantage of my offer, and to take a letter to his brother; and Madame Franchi made me promise that I would hand this letter myself to her son.
There was really no trouble in the matter, for Louis de Franchi, like a true Parisian as he was, lived at No. 7, Rue du Helder.
I asked permission to see Lucien’s room once again, and he himself conducted me thither, explaining everything to me.
“You know,” he said, “if anything strikes you I hope you will take it, it is yours.”
I unhooked a small poignard hanging in an obscure corner, as if to show that it had no value attached to it; and as I had seen Lucien notice with some curiosity my hunting-belt and its appurtenances, I begged him to accept it, and he had the good taste to take it without being pressed.
At that moment Griffo appeared to tell me that the horse was saddled and the guide waiting.
I put aside the little present I had intended to give to Griffo, which consisted of a hunting-knife and two pistols attached to it, the barrels of which were hidden in the hilt.
I never saw anybody so delighted as he was at this present.
I descended, and found Madame de Franchi at the bottom of the staircase, where she was waiting to bid me good-bye, in the same place where she had bade mewelcome. I kissed her hand, feeling great respect for such a simple-minded and yet so dignified a woman.
Lucien accompanied me to the door.
“On any other day,” he said, “I would saddle my horse, and ride with you beyond the mountain, but to-day I dare not quit Sullacaro for fear that one or other of the newly-made friends might commit some folly.”
“You are quite right,” I said; “and for my own part, I am very glad to have assisted at a ceremony so new to Corsica.”
“Yes,” he said, “you may well congratulate yourself, for you have to-day witnessed a thing which is enough to make our ancestors turn in their graves.”
“I understand—their word was sufficient; they did not need a notary to reconcile them, I suppose?”
“They were never reconciled at all.”
He then shook me by the hand.
“Have you no message for your brother?” I said.
“Yes, certainly, if it will not incommode you to deliver it.”
“Well, then, let us embrace. I can only deliver that which I am able to receive.” [See “Transcriber’s Note.”]
So we embraced each other.
“We shall see you again some day?” I said.
“Yes, if you come to Corsica.”
“No, but won’t you come to Paris?”
“I shall never go there,” replied Lucien.
“In any case, you will find my card on the mantelpiece in your brother’s room—do not forget the address.”
“I will promise you that should any event call me to the Continent you shall have my first visit.”
“Very well, that is agreed.”
We shook hands once again and parted; but I noticed, so long as he could see me, he followed me with his eyes.
All was quiet in the village, although, of course, there was the usual agitation which follows the completion of a great public act; and as I went along the street I sought my friend Orlandi, who had never addressed a word to me, nor even thanked me; and so I passed the last house in the village, and entered the open country without having seen any one like him.
I thought he had entirely forgotten me, and under the circumstances I quite excused him, but before I got very far out of the village I perceived a man stride from the underwood, and place himself in the middle of the road. I recognized him at once as the man who in my great regard for appearances, and in my impatience, I had accused of ingratitude.
He was dressed in the same costume as he had appeared in the previous evening in the ruins of Vicentello.
When I was about twenty paces distant from him he took off his hat; while I spurred my horse so as not to keep Orlandi waiting.
“Monsieur,” he said, “I did not wish you to quit Sullacaro without accepting my thanks for the kindness you have shown to a poor peasant like myself, and as in the village I had not the heart, and could not command the language, to thank you, I waited for you here.”
“I am obliged to you,” I said; “but it was not necessary to take any trouble about it, and all the honour has been mine.”
“And after all, monsieur,” continued the bandit, “the habit of four years is not easily overcome. The mountain air is strong at first, almost suffocating—but now when I go to sleep in a house I should be afraid the roof would fall upon me.”
“But surely,” I said, “you will now resume your former habits. I understand you have a house, a field, and a vineyard.”
“Yes, but my sister looks after the house; but the Lucquois are there to work in the field, and to raise the grapes. We Corsicans do not work.”
“What do you do, then?”
“We overlook the labourers. We walk about with a gun upon our shoulders.”
“Well, my dear Monsieur Orlandi,” I said, extending my hand, “I wish you good luck; but recollect that my honour as well as your own will be compromised if you fire at anything but game or wild animals. You must never on any account draw a trigger on the Colona family.”
“Ah! your Excellency,” he replied, with an expression of countenance which I never remarked except amongst the natives of Normandy, “that hen they gave us was a very thin one.”
And without another word he disappeared in the brushwood.
I continued my journey thinking that it was very likely that the meagre fowl would be the cause of another rupture between the Orlandi and the Colona.
That evening I slept at Albitucia, next day I reached Ajaccio.
Eight days afterwards I was in Paris.
THEday I arrived in Paris I called upon M. Louis de Franchi. He was not at home.
I left my card, with an intimation that I had just returned from Sullacaro, and that I was the bearer of a letter from M. Lucien, his brother. I inquired when he would be at home, as I had undertaken to deliver the letter with my own hand.
To conduct me to his master’s study, where I wished to write a note, the valet led me through the dining-room and thesalon.
I looked around me as I proceeded with a curiosity which will be understood, and I recognized the influence of the same taste which I had already perceived at Sullacaro; only the taste was here set off by true Parisian elegance. M. Louis de Franchi certainly appeared to have a very charming lodging for a bachelor.
Next morning, about eleven o’clock, my servant announced M. Louis de Franchi. I told the man to offer my visitor the papers and to say that I would wait on him as soon as I was dressed.
In five minutes I presented myself.
M. Louis do Franchi who was, no doubt from a sense of courtesy, reading a tale I had contributed toLa Presse,raised his head as the door opened, and I entered.
I stood perfectly astounded at the resemblance between the two brothers. He rose.
“Monsieur,” he said, “I could scarcely credit my good fortune when I read your note yesterday on my return home. I have pictured you twenty times so as to assure myself that it was in accord with your portraits, and at last I, this morning, determined to present myself at your house without considering the hour, and I fear I have been too early.”
“I hope you will excuse me if I do not at once acknowledge your kindness in suitable terms, but may I inquire whether I have the honour to address M. Louis or M. Lucien de Franchi?”
“Are you serious? Yes, the resemblance is certainly wonderful, and when I was last at Sullacaro nearly every one mistook one of us for the other, yet, if he has not abjured the Corsican dress, you have seen him in a costume, which would make a considerable difference in our appearance.”
“And justly so,” I replied; “but as chance would have it, he was, when I left, dressed exactly as you are now, except that he wore white trowsers, so that I was not able to separate your presence from his memory with the difference in dress of which you speak, but,” I continued, taking the letter from my pocket-book, “I can quite understand you are anxious to have news from home, so pray read this which I would have left at your house yesterday had I not promised Madame de Franchi to give it to you myself.”
“They were all quite well when you left, I hope?”
“Yes, but somewhat anxious.”
“On my account?”
“Yes; but read that letter, I beg of you.”
“If you will excuse me.”
So Monsieur Franchi read the letter while I made some cigarettes. I watched him as his eyes travelled rapidly over the paper, and I heard him murmur, “Dear Lucien, Darling Mother——yes——yes——I understand.”
I had not yet recovered from the surprise the strange resemblance between the brothers had caused me, but now I noticed what Lucien had told me, that Louis was paler, and spoke French better than he did.
“Well,” I said when he had finished reading the letter, and had lighted the cigarette, “You see, as I told you, that they are anxious about you, and I am glad that their fears are unfounded.”
“Well, no,” he said gravely, “not altogether; I have not been ill, it is true, but I have been out of sorts, and my indisposition has been augmented by this feeling that my brother is suffering with me.”
“Monsieur Lucien has already told me as much, and had I been sceptical I should now have been quite sure that what he said was a fact. I should require no further proof than I now have. So you, yourself, are convinced, monsieur, that your brother’s health depends to a certain extent on your own.”
“Yes, perfectly so.”
“Then,” I continued, “as your answer will doubly interest me, may I ask, not from mere curiosity, if this indisposition of which you speak is likely soon to pass away?”
“Oh, you know, monsieur, that the greatest griefs give way to time, and that my heart, even if seared, will heal. Meantime, however, pray accept my thanks oncemore, and permit me to call on you occasionally to have a chat about Sullacaro.”
“With the greatest pleasure,” I replied; “but why not now continue our conversation, which is equally agreeable to both of us. My servant is about to announce breakfast. Will you do me the honour to join me, and we can talk at our ease?”
“I regret that it is impossible; I have an appointment with the Chancellor at twelve o’clock, and you will understand that such a young advocate as I am cannot afford to stay away.”
“Ah, it is probably only about that Orlandi and Colona affair, as you, no doubt, are aware, and I can re-assure you on that point, for I myself signed the contract as sponsor for this Orlandi.”
“Yes, my brother said as much.”
“But,” he added, looking at his watch, “it is nearly twelve o’clock; I must go and inform the Chancellor that my brother has redeemed my word.”
“Ah, yes, most religiously, I can answer for that.”
“Dear Lucien, I knew quite well, though our sentiments do not agree on this point, that he would do it for me.”
“Yes, and I assure you it cost him something to comply.”
“We will speak of all this later, for you can well understand how pleasant it is for me to re-visit with your assistance my mother, my brother, and our home surroundings, so if you will tell me when you are disengaged——”
“That will be somewhat difficult; for this next few days I shall be very busy, but will you tell me where I am likely to find you.”
“Listen,” he said, “to-morrow is Mi-Careme, is it not?”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Are you going to the Opera Ball?”
“Yes and No. Yes, if you will meet me there. No, if I have no object in going.”
“I must go, I am obliged to be there.”
“Ah, yes,” I said laughing, “I understand, as you said just now, time heals up the greatest griefs, and your seared heart must be healed.”
“You are under a misapprehension, for I shall probably sustain new tortures by going.”
“Then do not go.”
“But what is one to do in this world? We cannot always do what we want; I am dragged thither by fate in spite of myself. I know I had better not go, and nevertheless I shall go.”
“Well, then, to-morrow, at the Opera.”
“Yes, agreed.”
“At what time?”
“Half-past twelve midnight, if that will suit you.”
“And whereabouts?”
“In thefoyer—at one, I will be in front of the clock.”
“That is understood.”
We then shook hands and he left the house quickly. It was on the stroke of twelve.
As for me, I occupied myself all the afternoon and all the next day in those employments as a man is obliged to undertake on his return from a lengthened tour.
At half-past twelve o’clock at night I was at the rendezvous.
Louis had been waiting some time—he had been following a mask which he thought he recognized, but the lady had been lost in the crowd, and he had not been able to rejoin her.
I wished to speak of Corsica, but Louis was too absent to follow out such a grave subject of conversation. His eyes were constantly fixed on the clock, and suddenly he rushed away from my side, exclaiming:
“Ah, there is my bouquet of violets.”
He pushed through the crowd to join a woman who, evidently with a purpose, was holding a large bouquet of violets in her hand.
There were bouquets of every species in the foyer, and I myself was soon accosted by a bouquet of camellias, which congratulated me upon my safe return to Paris.
To the camellias succeeded a bouquet of rose-pompons.
To these succeeded a bouquet of heliotrope.
In fact I was engaged with my fifteenth bouquet when I encountered D——.
“Ah, is it you,mon cher?” he cried. “Welcome back; you have returned just in time. I have a little supper party this evening—so-and-so and so-and-so—and we shall count upon you.”
“A thousand thanks, my dear fellow; but though I am strongly tempted to accept your invitation, I can’t. I am engaged to somebody.”
“Yes; but everyone else will bring somebody also,” said D——. “It is quite understood that there are tobe six water-bottles, whose destiny it is to refresh bouquets.”
“Ah, you are mistaken. I shall have no bouquet to put in a water-bottle; I am with a friend.”
“Well, you know the proverb, ‘Friends of our friends.’ ”
“It is a young gentleman whom you do not know.”
“Well, then, we will make his acquaintance.”
“I will tell him of his good fortune.”
“Yes, and if he decline, bring him by force.”
“I will do what I can, I promise you. At what time?”
“Three o’clock; but as supper will remain on table till six you have ample margin.”
“Very well.”
A bouquet of myosotis, which perhaps had heard the latter portion of our conversation, then took D——’s arm and walked on with him.
Shortly afterwards I met Louis, who had by this time got rid of his violets.
As the lady who honoured me with her attention just then was a trifle dull, I despatched her to one of my friends, and took Louis’ arm.
“Well,” I said, “have you learnt what you wanted to know?”
“Oh, yes! You know that at a masked ball people talk of the very things they ought to leave you in ignorance of.”
“My poor friend,” I said, “pardon me for thus addressing you; but it appears to me that I know you since I have known your brother. Look here—you are unhappy, are not you? Now what is it?”
“Oh, my goodness! Nothing worth talking about.”
I saw that he did not wish to speak on the subject, so I said no more.
We took two or three turns in silence.—I was quite indifferent, for I expected nobody, but he was anxiously examining every domino that passed.
At length I said, “Do you know what you might do to-night?”
He started like a man suddenly aroused.
“I! No. I beg your pardon; what did you say?”
“I was about to propose a distraction which it seems to me you need.”
“What is it?”
“Come to supper with a friend of mine, with me.”
“Oh, no—I am not in a festive humour.”
“Bah! They will talk nothing but nonsense, and that will amuse you.”
“Well—but I am not invited!”
“You mistake—for you are.”
“It is very kind on your part—but ’pon my word I am not worthy of—”
Just then we crossed D——. He seemed very much engaged with his bouquet of myosotis. Nevertheless he saw me.
“Well,” he said, “is it settled? Three o’clock.”
“Less settled than ever,” I replied—“I cannot join you.”
“Go to the Devil, then!”
And with this pious ejaculation he continued his course.
“Who is that gentleman?” inquired Louis.
“That is D——, one of my friends; a very cheerful youth, though he is the manager of one of our most respectable papers.”
“Monsieur D——!” exclaimed Louis. “Do you knowhim?”
“Certainly. I have known him for some years.”
“And is he the person with whom you are invited to sup this evening?”
“Yes, the same.”
“Then it was to his house you intended to take me?”
“Yes.”
“Then that alters the case. I accept, and with very great pleasure.”
“All right. That settles the question.”
“Perhaps, after all, I ought not to go,” muttered Louis, smiling sadly. “But you remember what I said yesterday about my destiny. Here is the proof. I should have done better not to have come here this evening.”
At this moment we again encountered D——. “My dear fellow,” I said, “I have changed my mind!”
“And you will join us?”
“Yes.”
“Bravo! But I ought to mention one thing.”
“That is?”
“That whoever sups with us to-night, sups with us again to-morrow evening.”
“By what law of society is that?”
“By the laws of the wager made with Chateau Renaud.”
I felt Louis’ arm quiver as it rested on mine—Iturned round; but though his face was deadly pale, it was impassable.
“What is the wager?” I inquired.
“Oh, it would occupy too much time to repeat here, and, besides, some one interested might overhear, and it might thus be lost.”
“What wonderful discretion you possess! At three, then.”
“At three!”
Once more we separated, and as I glanced at the clock I saw it then was thirty-five minutes past two.
“Do you know this M. de Chateau Renaud?” asked Louis, who vainly attempted to command his voice, and to conceal his emotion.
“Only by sight. I have met him occasionally in society.”
“Then he is not a friend of yours?”
“Not even an acquaintance.”
“Ah, so much the better,” replied Louis.
“Why so?”
“For no particular reason.”
“But do you know him?”
“Indirectly.”
Notwithstanding this evasive answer, it was easy to perceive that between Louis and Chateau Renaud there existed one of those mysterious bonds which could only be forged by a woman. An instinctive feeling assured me that it would be best for all if he and I returned home quietly.
“Will you take my advice, Monsieur de Franchi,” I said.
“About what? tell me!”
“Do not go to supper at D——’s house.”
“Why not? Does he not expect us. Have you not told him that you will bring a friend?”
“Yes, but that is not the point.”
“What is the point then?”
“I am sure you had better not go, that is all!”
“But surely you have some reason to give for your change of opinion; just now you were insisting on my presence at D——’s against my will.”
“I did not then know that we should meet Chateau Renaud.”
“But that is all the better. I believe he is a very pleasant companion, and I shall be glad to make his acquaintance.”
“Very well,” I replied—“so be it. Shall we go now?”
We accordingly went downstairs for our paletots.
D—— lived within a short distance of the opera house, the morning was very fine, and I hoped that the open air would enliven my companion. So I proposed that we should walk, and this he agreed to.
WEfound many of my friends assembled—habitués of the opera lobbies and of the greenroom, and, as I had expected, a few unmasked “bouquets” anxious for the time to come when the water-bottles would be used—supper time!
I introduced Louis to several friends, and it is needless to say that he was politely received and welcomed.
Ten minutes after our arrival D—— entered, accompanied by his bouquet of myosotis, who unmasked herself with a freedom and precision which argued a long acquaintance with these sort of parties.
I introduced Louis to D——.
“Now,” said B——, “if all the presentations have been made, I suggest that we present ourselves at table.”
“All the presentations are made, but all the guests have not arrived,” replied D——.
“Who is expected then?”
“Chateau Renaud is still wanting to complete the party.”
“Ah, just so. By-the-by, was there not some bet?”
“Yes. We laid a wager of a supper for twelve, that he would not bring a certain lady here to-night.”
“And who is the lady,” asked the bouquet of myosotis, “who is so very shy as to be made the subject of a bet?”
I looked at Louis de Franchi. He was outwardly composed, but pale as a corpse.
“Faith, I don’t know that there is any great harmin telling you her name, especially as none of you know her I think. She is Madame——”
Louis placed his hand upon D——’s arm.
“Monsieur,” he said; “will you grant me a favour? As a new acquaintance I venture to ask it!”
“What is it, monsieur?”
“Do not name the lady who is expected with M. de Chateau Renaud, you know she is a married woman!”
“Oh yes, but her husband is at Smyrna, in the East Indies, in Mexico, or some such place. When a husband lives so far away it is nearly the same as having no husband at all.”
“Her husband will return in a few days. I know him. He is a gallant fellow. I would wish, if possible, to spare him the chagrin of learning on his return that his wife had made one at this supper-party.”
“Excuse me, monsieur,” said D——, “I was not aware that you are acquainted with the lady, and I did not think she was married. But since you know her and her husband——”
“I do know them.”
“Then we must exercise greater discretion. Ladies and gentlemen, whether Chateau Renaud comes or not—whether he wins or loses his bet, I must beg of you all to keep this adventure secret.”
We all promised, not because our moral senses were offended, but because we were hungry and wished to begin our supper.
“Thank you, monsieur,” said Louis to D——, holding out his hand to him. “I assure you you are acting like a thorough gentleman in this matter.”
We then passed into the supper-room, and each one took his allotted place. Two chairs were vacant, thosereserved for Chateau Renaud and his expected companion.
The servant was about to remove them.
“No,” said the master, “let them remain; Chateau Renaud has got until four o’clock to decide his wager. At four o’clock if he is not here he will have lost.”
I could not keep my eyes from Louis de Franchi; I saw him watching the timepiece anxiously. It was then 3.40A.M.
“Is that clock right?” asked Louis.
“That is not my concern,” said D——, laughing. “I set it by Chateau Renaud’s watch, so that there may be no mistake.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said the bouquet of myosotis, “it seems we cannot talk of anything but Chateau Renaud and his unknown fair one. We are getting horribly ‘slow,’ I think.”
“You are quite right, my dear,” replied V——. “There are so many women of whom we can speak, and who are only waiting to be spoken to——”
“Let us drink their health,” cried D——.
So we did, and then the champagne went round briskly; every guest had a bottle at his or her elbow.
I noticed that Louis scarcely tasted his wine; “Drink, man!” I whispered: “don’t you see that she will not come?”
“It still wants a quarter to four,” said he; “at four o’clock, even though I shall be late in commencing, I promise you I will overtake some of you.”
“Oh, very well!” I replied.
While we had been exchanging these few words in a low tone, the conversation had become general around the table. Occasionally D—— and Louis glanced atthe clock, which ticked regularly on without any care for the impatience of the two men who were so intent upon its movements.
At five minutes to four I looked at Louis.
“To your health,” I said.
He took his glass, smiled, and raised it to his lips. He had drunk about half its contents when a ring was heard at the front door.
I did not think it possible that Louis could become any paler than he was, but I saw my mistake then.
“ ’Tis he,” he muttered.
“Yes, but perhaps he may have come alone,” I replied.
”We shall see in a moment.”
The sound of the bell had attracted everybody’s attention, and the most profound silence suddenly succeeded the buzz of conversation which had till then prevailed.
Then the sound of talking was heard in the anteroom.
D—— rose and opened the door.
“I can recognize her voice,” said Louis, as he grasped my arm with a vice-like grip.
“We shall see! wait! be a man!” I answered. “It must be evident that if she has thus come to supper with a man, of her own will, to the house of a stranger, she is not worthy your sympathy.”
“I beg, madam, that you will enter,” said D——’s voice in the outer room. “We are all friends here I assure you.”
“Yes, come in, my dear Emily,” said M. de Chateau Renaud, “you need not take off your mask if you do not wish to do so.”
“The wretch,” muttered Louis.
At that moment a lady entered, dragged in rather than assisted by D——, who fancied he was doing the honours, and by Chateau Renaud.
“Three minutes to four,” said Chateau Renaud to D——, in a low voice.
“Quite right, my dear fellow, you have won.”
“Not yet, monsieur,” said the young unknown addressing Chateau Renaud, and drawing herself up to her full height. “I can now understand your persistence. You laid a wager that I would sup here. Is that so?”
Chateau Renaud was silent. Then addressing D——, she continued.
“Since this man cannot answer, will you, monsieur, reply. Did not M. de Chateau Renaud wager that he would bring me here to supper to-night?”
“I will not hide from you, madame, that he flattered us with that hope,” replied D——.
“Well, then, M. de Chateau Renaud has lost, for I was quite unaware he was bringing me here. I believed we were to sup at the house of a friend of my own. So it appears to me that M. de Chateau Renaud has not won his wager.”
“But now you are here, my dear Emily, you may as well remain; won’t you? See, we have a good company and some pleasant young ladies too!”
“Now that I am here,” replied the unknown, “I will thank the gentleman who appears to be the master of the house for the courtesy with which he has treated me. But as, unfortunately, I cannot accept his polite invitation I will beg M. Louis de Franchi to see me home.”
Louis with a bound placed himself between the speaker and Chateau Renaud.
“I beg to observe, madam,” said the latter between his shut teeth, “that I brought you hither and consequently I am the proper person to conduct you home.”
“Gentlemen,” said the unknown, “you are five, I put myself into your honourable care. I trust you will defend me from the violence of M. de Chateau Renaud!”
Chateau Renaud made a movement. We all rose at once.
“Very good, madame,” he said. “You are at liberty. I know with whom I have to reckon.”
“If you refer to me, sir,” replied Louis de Franchi with an air of hauteur impossible to describe, “you will find me all day to-morrow at the Rue du Helder, No. 7.”
“Very well, monsieur. Perhaps I shall not have the pleasure to call upon you myself, but I hope that two friends of mine may be as cordially received in my place.”
“That was all that was necessary,” said Louis, shrugging his shoulders disdainfully. “A challenge before a lady! Come, madame,” he continued, offering his arm. “Believe me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the honour you do me.”
And then they left the room, amidst the most profound silence.
“Well, gentlemen, so it seems I have lost,” said Chateau Renaud, when the door closed. “That’s all settled! To-morrow evening all of you sup with me at the Frères Provençaux.”