"‘Nec domina ulla meo ponet vestigia lecto.’"
"‘Nec domina ulla meo ponet vestigia lecto.’"
"That is at once gallant and voluptuous. I start——"
"I beg pardon, Monsieur Férulus, but we are starting too; by reading us your verses in advance, you deprive us of all the pleasure of a surprise. Besides, company is coming,—ladies; we must pay a little attention to our toilet."
"That is true," said Robineau; "why, I still have on my travelling coat!—François, come and dress your master."
Alfred and Edouard went in one direction, Robineau in another; Férulus left alone, but determined to recite his poetry to someone, ran after Jeannette, whom he saw in the courtyard, and compelled the poor girl to listen to the whole hundred and forty Alexandrines; after which, chucking her under the chin, he said:
"Well! how dost thou—Mon Dieu! what alapsus linguæ!—How do you like that, Jeannette?"
"Monsieur, I like the lament of Angélique and Médor better."
"You are a fool, Jeannette; and really you are good for nothing but warming beds."
"Ah! By the way, monsieur, you better buy a warming pan; for the fall’s almost here, and if I’ve got to warm beds that way, I should get pretty tired!"
"Hush! I have given you the most agreeable place; perform your duties gracefully, and do not grumble."
The La Pincerie family had promised to reach the château in time for dinner, and about four o’clock the wicker and oilcloth vehicle drove into the courtyard. The father, the uncle, and the two ladies alighted from it; then they took out a multitude of boxes and bundles, and Monsieur de la Pincerie’s rifle, which was so long that it resembled a fowling-piece. Robineau attempted to hurry forward to meet his guests; but at the sight of his future bride his emotion was so great that he dropped into a chair, saying:
"That woman deprives me of the use of my legs. What will it be when I am really her husband?"
Alfred and Edouard offered their hands to the ladies; but at sight of Alfred, Mademoiselle Cornélie, assuming her grand and haughty air, hastily took Edouard’s arm. On her side, the languorous Eudoxie, who had not been satisfied with the young poet’s conduct, seemed to have determined to transfer to Alfred the sentiments which she had manifested for Edouard.
Monsieur le marquis was already intent upon his rifle. Uncle Mignon was ordered to attend to the transportation of the boxes, so that his nieces’ dresses might not receive too much of a shaking. Robineau, who had succeeded in recovering the use of his legs, came forward to receive the company, and escorted them to the salon on the ground floor, saying to Mademoiselle de la Pincerie:
"Pray, come and embellish this abode, of which you will soon be lady and mistress."
But the ladies did not choose to stop in the salon until they had visited the apartments assigned to them and had readjusted their clothes, which they said were disarranged by the drive. Thereupon Monsieur Férulus, who had greeted each member of the family with a honey-sweet expression, came forward and said:
"I shall have the honor of escorting the ladies."
"You, monsieur?" said Eudoxie; "it is very gallant of you, no doubt; but a servant would be much more suitable, for we may have to ask for innumerable things for our toilet, and you understand that it would be unpleasant to ask you for them."
"That is the most perfect logic," replied Férulus with a bow.—Thereupon Robineau called François and said to him:
"Have the honor to escort these ladies to their apartments."
"What! you give us a man for lady’s maid!" cried Cornélie, shrugging her shoulders. "Why, that is ridiculous. Do you expect that this fellow is going to lace us and arrange our hair and dress us?"
"Oh! a thousand pardons! I am absurd!—François, go and call Mademoiselle Cheval."
"Who on earth is Mademoiselle Cheval?" said the widow, with a horrified air. "Mon Dieu! I shall never dare to entrust my head to that woman!"
"Oh! you will be pleased with her; she is my cook, but she is a girl who has all sorts of talent; she will lace you tight."
"Oh! the idea! it’s an outrage! To give us a cook for lady’s maid!" said Cornélie. "Our hair will smell of soup!—I tell you, monsieur, that I will not allow your cook to come near me."
"Why, monseigneur," said Férulus, "you have just the person these ladies need; Jeannette, who came to the château to do everything, and whose hair is as curly as a negro’s."
"That is true! I am so confused, so happy, that I did not think of her. Send for Jeannette."
"At all events," said Madame de Hautmont, "she has a human name."
Jeannette appeared; as François had told her that they were going to give her something to do, she brought her foot-warmer under her arm.
"Jeannette," said Robineau, "you will consider yourself at the orders of these ladies."
"What has she got there?" said Eudoxie; "I believe it is a foot-warmer! Do you take us for old dowagers, my girl, that you bring us that goodwife’s piece of furniture?"
"Oh! it ain’t that, madame," replied Jeannette, with a reverence; "but you see that, as my duty—as I have to warm——"
Monsieur Férulus, who was beside Jeannette, pulled her skirt and pinched her, to make her keep quiet. Luckily Cornélie interrupted her, saying:
"Well, it is all right! Go before us.—Uncle Mignon, have the boxes been carried up?"
"They have," replied Mignon, showing his enormous teeth, "and I have put the pins in the pin-cushion."
The ladies withdrew to their apartments. Monsieur le marquis, who had already expectorated in every corner of the salon, went to inspect his apartment, and Uncle Mignon, who was instructed to attend to all details, went to see if the chariot had been placed in the carriage house and the horse fed.
"How much activity and animation the presence of ladies gives to a house instantly!" said Robineau. "The arrival of the La Pincerie family is going to brighten up this abode tremendously, messieurs. Ah! by the way, monsieur le marquis is very fond of whist; he wants to play every evening; who will play with him?"
"Not I," said Edouard, "for I don’t know the game."
"I know it; but as it bores me, I shall not play!" said Alfred.
"I, monseigneur, flatter myself that I play it correctly," said Férulus.
"Very good, Monsieur Férulus; you, Uncle Mignon and I, if necessary, although I don’t know it very well; no matter, someone will advise me; besides, Mademoiselle Cornélie told me that she was very particular that I should play whist with her father. What a pity that we haven’t so much as a harpsichord here! My fiancée plays the harpsichord, and her sister sings like Orpheus. And there is not the slightest instrument here to accompany the singers!"
"You might send for Monsieur Cheval with his drum."
"None of your poor jokes, Alfred."
"Monseigneur, I play the fife rather well," said Férulus, "and if it would give pleasure to the ladies——"
"We will see, I will suggest it. But they don’t return! Is dinner ready?"
"All ready, monseigneur; my only fear is that it will get cold."
"Oh! you don’t understand, my dear fellow," said Alfred; "I’ll wager that the ladies won’t come down for another hour. You don’t know what it means to make two toilets, especially when they have but one lady’s maid! But here is the uncle; I have not as yet heard him say anything except: ‘Yes, nieces.’—I am curious to find out whether he knows any other sentence."
The uncle, after he had seen his brother’s noble steed attack his grain, joined the company. He entered the room bowing, smiling and hopping; then he looked from one to another without saying a word. But Alfred went to him and said:
"They say that monsieur le marquis is very fond of hunting; you like it too, no doubt, monsieur?"
"Yes, oh, yes! I go hunting," replied Mignon, scratching his nose.
"Are you a good shot?"
"Shot! No! oh, no! I never shoot."
"What on earth do you go hunting for, then?"
"Why, I carry the ladies’ umbrellas."
"What! Do the ladies hunt, too?"
"Oh, yes! Cornélie often brings down hares."
"And her sister?"
"Eudoxie doesn’t shoot, but she follows the hunt; the movement of the horse is very good for her nerves.—Ah! I beg pardon, I think my nieces called me; I may have forgotten a box!"
Mignon hurried from the salon, and Robineau said to his friends:
"You will agree, messieurs, that it would be difficult to find an uncle more attentive! In fact, Cornélie tells me to take him for a model."
"Never fear, Robineau; I assure you that they will train you as well as they have him."
After a long hour, during which Monsieur Férulus did nothing but go from the dining-room to the kitchen, the ladies appeared at last, escorted by Mignon, and followed by the marquis. There was nothing extraordinary in the costumes of the two sisters. Edouard was surprised that they had been able to spend so long a time in making so little change in their dress; but Eudoxie began by saying:
"Don’t look at us, messieurs, we must be perfectly horrid, shocking! That stupid girl has no idea about dressing the hair, and then we feared keeping you waiting. We hurried and have sacrificed all coquetry!"
"In heaven’s name, how long does their toilet last when they take time about it?" whispered Alfred; while Férulus exclaimed:
"It seems to me that I see Venus and Psyche!"
They took their places at the table; this time Alfred was beside Eudoxie. But Edouard was in no wise jealous; he was beside the haughty Cornélie, who deigned sometimes to smile amiably upon him.
"My château is not yet what it will be before long," said Robineau, gazing fondly at his future bride; "but I shall try to make your stay here agreeable; my friends will second me with all their power. Thanks to your presence, mesdames, I fancy that we shall see them here more frequently; for, heaven is my witness, that since we arrived, they have been here very little; early in the morning they leave the house, and do not return until dinner time."
"Are you gentlemen fond of riding?" said Eudoxie.
"The exercise is very healthful," said the marquis; "it’s a pity that one wears out one’s boots and small-clothes. I have been trying for a long time to find something economical to replace them."
"To replace small-clothes, monsieur le marquis?"
"No, only the boots. I believe that I have discovered the ancient foot-gear of the Phoceans; it would be very becoming to those men who have well-shaped legs!"
"It is not simply for the pleasure of riding that these gentlemen scour the country every morning," said Robineau with a mischievous air.
"Do they hunt?" said the marquis.
"No—no—that is to say, they do hunt if you call it so, but it is a sort of game which—which——"
"Pray explain yourself, monsieur!" said Cornélie; "we do not understand you."
"It seems to me, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire," said Edouard, "that these ladies are hardly likely to care about knowing where we go."
"Ha! ha! Look, mesdames, the poet is blushing already!" replied Robineau, laughing; "it is well that you should know that we have a sorceress in the neighborhood."
"A sorceress," exclaimed Eudoxie in dismay, while Mignon ceased to play with his fork for a moment and looked at Robineau.
"A sorceress," said Cornélie, with a scornful air; "bah! I don’t believe in sorceresses myself!"
"You understand, mesdames, that it is simply a figure of speech."
"No matter," said Eudoxie; "if she tells fortunes, I shall go to consult her; where does she live?"
"About two leagues from here, in a pretty little valley surrounded by mountains, near the village of Chadrat."
"She should have an owl, a screech owl, and a black cat," said Mignon.
"I have seen none of those things," said Alfred, with a smile; "but by way of compensation, she has the loveliest eyes in the world, teeth as white as snow, and an extremely sweet voice."
"Oh! mon Dieu! what a portrait!" cried Cornélie spitefully; "it would seem that monsieur has looked at her very closely."
"Is she a young girl, then?" said Eudoxie.
"Yes, mesdames," replied Robineau, "she is rather a good-looking young girl, although I see nothing extraordinary about her; a peasant, a goatherd, in fact, who, according to what the peasants hereabout say, casts spells upon animals; and I am inclined to think that she has cast one upon these gentlemen."
"Aha! so she’s a young girl," rejoined Eudoxie, glancing at Alfred; "and it is to her side that these gentlemen bend their steps? I begin to understand."
"Well, I do not understand at all what pleasure one can take in talking to goatherds," said Cornélie disdainfully.
"If you had heard her speak, mademoiselle," said Edouard, "you would consider us very pardonable. She is not a mere peasant like the other girls one meets in these mountains; she is a young woman with refined and gracious manners, a keen and delicate wit, a sweet and touching voice, who expresses herself as well as one who has received the best education."
"Oh, monsieur! how warm you get!" said Cornélie with a satirical air. "You are this extraordinary damsel’s true knight, I see!"
"I do her justice, mademoiselle; that is all."
"I beg pardon, monsieur," said Eudoxie; "but if this goatherd is really such a person as you describe, she must indeed be a sorceress; for I should like to know who could have taught her to talk and express herself differently from the other country girls? unless she has not always lived here in the mountains, unless she is a deserted Ariadne."
"The deduction is extremely judicious!" said Férulus; "she cannot have learned without a teacher; and except my boarding-school, which she never attended, I know of no masters of arts in this neighborhood."
"I agree, mesdames," said Alfred, "that there is, in truth, something hard to explain in respect to this girl; but in my opinion that adds to the charm of her personality."
"The charm of a cowherd! She must be most seductive!" said Cornélie, with a sarcastic smile.
"Mademoiselle," said Edouard, "pray have a little compassion for a person whom you do not know!"
"Oh! I see that one would be very ill-advised to speak ill of her before you, messieurs! I leave you your shepherdess! But I confess that I should never have suspected that two young men of such excellent tone could be attracted by such a rustic character!"
"For my part, I say that we must see her in order to form a just estimate of her," said the marquis; "I shall go hunting in that direction."
"Monsieur le marquis is right," said Férulus; "we should not speak without knowledge. Everybody talks about the fair Helen, but few people know that she had five husbands: Theseus, Menelaus, Paris, Deiphobus and Achilles; that she was hanged in the Isle of Rhodes by the women servants of Polyxo; and that, during the war of which she was the cause, eight hundred and eighty-six thousand men died on the side of the Greeks and six hundred and seventy-six thousand on the side of the Trojans."
"Oh! mon Dieu! he has got onto history again!" said Eudoxie to Alfred.
"Monsieur," said Cornélie to Férulus, "Greek and Roman names make my ears ache; pray talk to us about more modern things."
Monsieur Férulus bowed and swallowed a glass of burgundy, to wash down this little snub. Meanwhile, Robineau, to demonstrate his affection to his future bride, tenderly pressed her foot with his; but Mademoiselle Cornélie gave a little shriek and exclaimed:
"Dear me! who is treading on my foot like that? Is it you, monsieur?"
Robineau turned crimson and stammered:
"Yes, I confess that I wanted to make you understand——"
"I don’t like to have people tread on my feet! You hurt me terribly! I beg that you won’t do it again."
Robineau, covered with confusion, looked at the floor, uncertain whether he should or should not throw himself at Cornélie’s feet; at last, to relieve himself from his embarrassment, he turned the conversation once more upon the subject of Isaure.
"To return to the young girl of the mountains, mesdames, the most surprising thing about her is that she lives all alone near a place which is the terror of the people of the next village. That place is a house called the White House."
"Why, what happens in the White House, pray?" asked Eudoxie.
"What happens there!" replied Robineau; "oh! nobody knows; but it seems clear that something happens there. It is uninhabited and yet lights are seen in it; sounds are heard and yet no person is seen! That is very strange, is it not?"
"It is terrifying," said Mignon.
"It is utterly absurd," said Cornélie.
"However, mesdames, the said shepherdess is the only person who is not afraid of the White House, and she lives close beside it. That is rather surprising for a young girl, eh?"
"A clever trick!" said Eudoxie; "of course her lover lives in the house, and she knows very well that he isn’t the devil."
"Her lover!" exclaimed Edouard; and, struck by the widow’s suggestion, he suddenly became pale, and trembled visibly.
"Oh! mon Dieu! how you frighten me, monsieur!" said Cornélie; "I thought that you had an attack of hysteria."
"I beg pardon, mademoiselle, but I don’t know—I had a sudden flush."
"No one would have suspected it, for you are as pale as a ghost!"
"Come, come, my dear Edouard," said Alfred, who had observed his friend’s perturbation, "let us drop the White House, which does not deserve so much of our attention, and let us drink a glass of champagne to the health of these ladies."
As he spoke, he tried with his eyes to tranquillize and reassure Edouard, who soon recovered himself, realizing that he was foolish to be disturbed by a word spoken at random by someone who had never seen Isaure. But that cruel word had wounded him to the heart.
To put an end to a conversation which was painful to him, and to revenge himself in some measure upon Robineau, Edouard said to him:
"But, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, do you, who are so well acquainted with everything curious or extraordinary in the neighborhood, do you know all that your own château contains?"
"My château? Why, now it contains a most illustrious family, and some most adorable ladies!"
"That is very well, but it is not all; you are unaware, I see, that there is a phantom, a ghost in this old château!"
"A ghost under my roof!" cried Robineau, changing color in his turn.
"A ghost!" repeated all the members of the La Pincerie family; and Uncle Mignon, in his terror, dropped upon his knees the cup of coffee he was just putting to his lips.
"Faith, I knew nothing about it," said Alfred.
"Nonsense, it is a joke, a piece of mischief on Monsieur Edouard’s part," rejoined Robineau, making an effort to smile.
"No, indeed; that is, if we are to believe your servants; for I confess, for my own part, that I have seen nothing; but your groom declares that the North Tower is visited at night by a phantom; and Vincent, your gardener, claims to have met in the garden, in the evening, a mysterious personage who fled at his approach. That at least is what François, your valet, told me, and he asked me if it were I who had been in the tower and in the garden at night."
Robineau, seeing that Edouard was speaking seriously, could not conceal the emotion which this news caused him.
"What!" he cried, "my servants have seen all this and have said nothing to me about it! You know so many things, Monsieur Férulus—how does it happen that you did not know this?"
"Monseigneur," said Férulus, "I had had wind of these vague rumors; but it seemed to me that it was useless to mention them to you until I was certain that there was something extraordinary in them."
"Why useless, pray? Am I not the owner of this château? Should I not be told first of everything that happens here?"
"Recte dicis, monseigneur; but no thief has entered the château, since nothing has been stolen. In that case it must have been a ghost that they saw. But are there ghosts? That is the question. The Egyptians, the Gauls, the Vandals and the Ostrogoths affirm——"
"Monsieur Férulus, this is not a question of Ostrogoths! I want an explanation of what my servants saw that was extraordinary.—François, tell my groom and my gardener to come here; summon the concierge too, and the whole household, that will be the best way."
François went off to collect his fellows, while Cornélie said to Robineau:
"Really, monsieur, you display an interest, an eagerness, in this matter!—I can well believe that you do not believe in ghosts! Ah! mon Dieu! a cowardly man is a pitiful creature!"
"Certainly, mademoiselle, my courage is well known; my friends can tell you that we passed the night in the mountains, in a wretched hovel, the door of which had no lock."
"Yes, mademoiselle," observed Alfred, "and that night La Roche-Noire did some things—which I would not have done."
"To be sure," said Robineau, compressing his lips. "As for ghosts, I do not believe in them the least in the world. But I propose to find out why my servants presume to spread reports which are utterly absurd."
"Oh! yes, monsieur," said Eudoxie; "we must find out what it is, for I am afraid of everything; and it would be a shameful thing to bring us to a château inhabited by ghosts."
"Indeed, it would be dishonorable," said Uncle Mignon in an undertone, as he followed the company, who left the table to repair to the salon, where all the servants soon arrived in a body, in accordance with their master’s orders.
"Which of you is it who saw something or somebody at night in the North Tower?" asked Robineau, perching himself gracefully in a large easy-chair, while the ladies and the two young men talked together on an enormous couch at a little distance.
The servants looked at one another for some time without replying; at last Benoît stepped forward and said:
"I believe it was me, monseigneur."
"You see! he is uncertain about it already," said Férulus; "oculos habent et non videbunt!"
"Monsieur Férulus," said Robineau testily, "why do you speak Latin to my people? You know very well that they don’t understand it! Parbleu! if I chose, I could speak Latin to them too; and even cookery Latin, which would be much more within their reach."
"Monseigneur, I was quoting a passage of Scripture."
"You are a terrible man with your passages! But, when one is with ladies, one should never use a dead language."
Férulus bowed, and seated himself in a corner of the salon, whence he ogled Jeannette. Robineau resumed his examination.
"Tell me, Benoît, what it was that frightened you?"
"Frightened! Oh! I wasn’t frightened, monseigneur! I was just surprised, that’s all!"
"He is lying like a tooth-puller!" cried Mademoiselle Cheval; "he was so frightened that when he told us about it the next day he was still as pale as a turnip."
"Yes," said Cunette, who was standing behind his comrades, because he had dined and did not feel very firm upon his legs, which fact he was terribly afraid that his master would discover; but which did not prevent his persisting in talking all the time. "Yes, he was frightened! He pretends to be brave, and he hasn’t any marrow in his bones!"
"Hold your tongue, you others, and let Benoît speak.—What was it you saw at night?"
"Monseigneur," said Benoît, "I was at my window because I couldn’t sleep."
"Well, you ought to sleep," said Cunette. Robineau made a threatening gesture and the concierge said no more.
"I happened to look at the old tower, where no one lives, and I saw a light in the windows on top."
"In the first place, there ain’t any windows on top, because the platform’s there," said Cunette under his breath.
"What did that light do?" inquired Robineau with keen interest.
"What did it do! It went back and forth; and then I didn’t see it any more, monseigneur."
"Which one of you has been in the old tower at night with a candle, my men?"
"Not me," said all the servants in chorus.
"In that case, this is very peculiar," said Robineau.—"And you, Vincent, whom did you meet in the garden?"
The gardener came forward with his customary air of ill humor, wearing his livery which was hardly recognizable, it was so stained and covered with dirt, and exclaimed:
"Who did I meet? Pardi! If I knew who it was, it would be all right; but you see I don’t know."
"You ought to have called for help, and to have arrested the person who dared to walk in my garden at night without my permission."
"Oho! I ought to have done that! I can’t do everything all alone! Besides, I couldn’t run, my clothes are too tight for that!"
"How is this? Is this your livery, ruined like this already, Monsieur Vincent?"
"You shouldn’t give me a color so easy to dirt, master, if you want me to plant and dig and water flowers; that’s the trouble!"
"My friends," continued Robineau, addressing his servants, "as you don’t know just what it was that frightened you, I will let it go at that for to-day; but the next time that you hear anything, or see anything suspicious in the château, I order you to find out instantly what it is, under pain of being discharged; because I do not choose that anyone in my service shall be afraid.—Go."
All the servants took their leave, and Robineau walked toward the ladies, saying:
"It seems to me that I talked to them rather decidedly."
"It seems to me, monsieur, that you have made a great deal of noise over nothing," said Cornélie.
"I am not so brave as my sister," said Madame de Hautmont, "and I am sure that I shall dream to-night of imps and will-o’-the-wisps, in spite of myself. And then, too, this château has such a Gothic appearance! In pity’s name, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, do not give us rooms very far from these gentlemen, for if I should hear anything in the night, if I should be afraid, who would come to my assistance?"
"Have no fear, madame," said Alfred, "my room also opens on the large gallery; my door is almost opposite yours; at the slightest sound I shall hasten to offer you my services."
"Ah! that is very nice, monsieur; I place myself under your safeguard, under your protection!"
Cornélie glanced furtively at her sister and Alfred, saying in an undertone:
"How convenient it is to be afraid!"
To afford an agreeable diversion to the guests, Monsieur Férulus came forward with his poem, and proposed to read it. But the dinner had lasted until late in the evening. The La Pincerie family was fatigued. Monsieur le marquis was already beginning to snore in his armchair, and they concluded that it was preferable to send him to snore in his bed. Everybody retired, each one armed with a candle, the light of which gleamed like a minute point in the vast corridors of the château. One after another, each light disappeared; and just as happens when paper is consumed by fire, all those luminous streaks vanished and left absolute darkness behind.
For a fortnight the La Pincerie family had been settled at the Château of La Roche-Noire, where Robineau did his utmost to provide varied entertainment for his guests; nevertheless, the time passed rather monotonously. The ladies, who rose as late in the country as in the town, did not descend until the breakfast hour; then they went up to their rooms again, to devote themselves to their toilet, and that lasted until noon. Then they met in the salon, and chatted there, or strolled about the gardens. Several times Robineau suggested an excursion among the mountains; but if the weather was fine, Eudoxie was afraid of the heat; if it was overcast, she was afraid of dampness or rain. But if by chance she resolved to defy the elements, then it was Cornélie who refused to go out, because she suspected that Alfred would be her sister’s escort; and she was not at all desirous to be always on the arm of her fiancé, with whom she seemed to feel that she would have plenty of time to be alone in the future.
As for Edouard, the presence of the La Pincerie family did not prevent his going every morning to see Isaure; he simply returned to the château a little earlier; but they never saw him at breakfast, which fact was a subject of constant jesting for Robineau; whereas the ladies, terribly scandalized at the idea that anyone could prefer riding or a goatherd to their society, treated Edouard with much coolness, and constantly hurled epigrams at him, to which the young man listened with a courteous indifference which served only to increase the irritation of the marquis’s daughters.
Monsieur de la Pincerie, who had declared himself so devoted to hunting, and who passed an hour every morning examining his gun, had not yet found himself in a sufficiently hardy and active condition to take the field; and although Robineau had purchased a very fine new rifle, he seemed in no hurry to use it. As for Uncle Mignon, he was always ready to do whatever anyone wanted; he had become so accustomed to that, that the excellent man would have thought that he was ill if he had felt any will of his own.
The ladies ordinarily went up to their apartments an hour before dinner, to change their dresses. Monsieur Férulus did all that lay in his power to remain at table a long while, wherein Uncle Mignon seconded him warmly. When they returned to the salon, the whist table was prepared, and monsieur le marquis did not allow five minutes’ interval between dinner and the game. Mignon, Monsieur Férulus and Robineau made up Monsieur de la Pincerie’s table. As La Roche-Noire played very badly, he was usually scolded throughout the game; and if he chanced to turn his head or to say a word to the ladies, who were talking with the young men at a short distance, the marquis would say to him with much temper:
"Pray attend to what you are doing, monsieur! You are not playing with the ladies, but with us!"
Thereupon Robineau would bow submissively and falter:
"I beg pardon, that is true! I was absent-minded!"
But as it began to bore him terribly to play whist every evening, and to be scolded from seven o’clock until ten, Robineau hastened forward the moment of his marriage, because he hoped to enjoy life a little more then.
Nothing more had been heard of ghosts or of nocturnal noises; Robineau laughed and joked with the widow when she said that she was still afraid. For several days, however, Eudoxie seemed less nervous, and evidently relied greatly upon the support of her neighbor. It is true that Alfred, who, in accordance with his promise, had ceased to go to Isaure’s house, did what he could to foster a slight inclination for the languorous Eudoxie, whose only ambition was to find someone with whom she could exchange sighs.
It was the middle of September, and the days were growing short and the mornings cool. Edouard often reached Isaure’s cottage before the people at the château were thinking of rising. Happy only when he was at the young girl’s side, he always saw her with renewed delight, and found it harder to leave her. Each day Edouard discovered some new attraction in the woman who had won his affection. Isaure’s pure and ingenuous heart poured itself out freely into her lover’s; she, too, was evidently happy to love him, and their mutual love seemed to wax greater with every instant. But, when Edouard said to her:
"As we love each other so dearly, why should we not belong entirely to each other, why should we have to separate every day?" Isaure sighed and made no reply; but her eyes, turning toward the White House, seemed to indicate that thence came the obstacle which lay in the path of their happiness.
That mystery tormented Edouard; it was painful to him to think that Isaure had secrets from him; he could not doubt that she loved him, and yet jealousy crept into his heart. Of whom could he be jealous? Isaure was incapable of deceiving him; he was sure of that when he was with her; but when they were apart, new ideas assailed him, and in spite of himself, what Eudoxie had said came often to his mind.
Several times, after bidding Isaure adieu, Edouard softly retraced his steps. Hiding behind trees, the young lover would keep his eyes fixed steadfastly on the maiden’s house. When she came out, Edouard would follow her at a distance, and watch her for hours at a time. But he saw that she was always alone, running along behind her flocks, or seated quietly upon a mound, smiling artlessly at the gambols of her goats, and glancing along the road by which her lover had gone away. If her eyes turned toward the mysterious house, then an expression of melancholy, of anxiety, would steal over her features; but she did not on that account leave the place where she usually sat, and no one came out of the White House to speak to her.
Ashamed of yielding to such jealous impulses, Edouard was always tempted to throw himself at Isaure’s feet; but he restrained himself, watched her return to her cottage, and then walked cautiously toward the White House, and when he reached the door, listened attentively to see if he could hear any sound inside.
Although thus far nothing had happened to justify his secret uneasiness, Edouard was unable to overcome it; he felt that he should not be tranquil in his mind until he knew what the obstacle was which prevented him from being Isaure’s husband. Day after day he implored her to confide to him what it was that detained her near the White House, that prevented her from consenting to be his wife at once; but Isaure always kept silent, or else said to her lover:
"Forgive me, but I cannot speak; the secret is not mine. Wait a little longer. After all, are we not happy now, since we can tell each other every day that we love each other?"
A girl may be content with such happiness; it satisfies her mind and it satisfies her heart; she cannot desire any other; but it is not the same with a young lover; the assurance that he is loved, the joy of pressing his sweetheart in his arms is not enough for him; he is not content with glances and oaths. Edouard realized that he could not long contain himself; he realized the perils of their situation, and yet he did not wish to sully that pure young blossom before it was lawful for him to pluck it.
One morning, after urging the girl once more, to no purpose, to tell him what it could be that prevented her from disposing of her hand, Edouard had walked sadly away from the cottage, and his eyes had rested with gloomy anxiety upon the White House. The weather was bad and the valley was shrouded in a dense mist. Isaure was not likely to leave her cottage. After pretending to take the road leading to the château, Edouard retraced his steps, took a detour, and came back to the walls of the deserted house.
Jealousy had crept into Edouard’s heart; he did not know what course to pursue in order to discover if someone were secretly living in the White House. He looked at the windows; those on the ground floor were provided with wooden shutters, those on the first floor with persiennes. Edouard made the circuit of the house and the garden walls. Suddenly it occurred to him that if he entered the garden, he might perhaps solve the mystery which was being hidden from him. At first he cast the idea aside as unworthy of him. To force his way into a house by scaling the walls was repugnant to his sense of delicacy. But the house was deserted, and no one would know that he had given way to that impulse of curiosity. He glanced involuntarily about; the dense mist made it impossible for him to see Isaure’s cottage; consequently it was impossible that she could see him from her windows. He walked close to the garden wall. It was fully six feet high; but in several places it was broken; some stones had become detached, and others protruding made it very easy to climb. Edouard kept his eyes fixed upon the wall; the suspicions which he could not banish, the secret which was being kept from him and which seemed to be contained in that house, everything impelled him to attempt the undertaking. Once more he looked about him; he was entirely alone, not a sound could be heard. In a few seconds he had climbed the wall, leaped down upon the other side, and stood in the garden of the house.
Edouard could not control his emotion; we are moved in spite of ourselves when we feel that we are doing something wrong. He paused a moment and looked about. The garden was large, but it was uncultivated; nettles and weeds were growing in the paths, where evidently no foot had trodden them for a long while. Trees, entirely neglected, had spread out their new branches, untrimmed by the gardener’s pruning hook, over other trees near them; the flowers had fallen at the foot of the shrubs that bore them; and the fruit had in large part dried upon the branches.
Edouard walked forward cautiously along the first path that he came to. At every step his feet became entangled in weeds and branches. Everything indicated that for a long time no attention had been paid to the garden. In a clump of trees which was a little less overgrown, he spied a bench with a back; that bench was not covered with leaves and dust, and the path leading to the clump seemed to have been used more than the rest of the garden.
Edouard walked toward the house, and came to a small courtyard. The gate in the fence separating the courtyard from the garden was not closed, so he was soon in front of the house. On that side the windows were not closed by shutters; the door leading from the ground floor into the garden was of glass, and seemed to be secured inside by a latch only.
Edouard listened for some time, but not the slightest sound could be heard in the house. In a corner of the courtyard was a small stable, where there was some straw and grain; everything indicated that horses had been kept there; but it was the interior of the house that the young lover was especially eager to examine. One of the panes in a window on the ground floor was broken, so that he could easily pass his hand through, and in that way unlock the window and gain entrance to the house. After some further hesitation, Edouard yielded to his longing to discover what Isaure was concealing from him. The window was opened and in a moment he was inside the house.
When he was inside, Edouard could hardly see anything, for it was a dark day, the windows looking on the open country were tightly closed by shutters, and very little light came in from the garden. But he gradually became used to that half light and could examine everything about him.
The furniture was old, but seemed to have been used very little; it was covered with dust, but on the dining-table there still stood the remains of a meal, plates, a glass, and a bottle, in which there was some wine.
"If this house is not always occupied," said Edouard to himself; "it is certain at all events that people come here sometimes; but is it a man or a woman who comes to this place in secret?"
He passed into a vestibule which separated the two rooms on the ground floor. That vestibule had one door leading to the road and another to the garden; he crossed it and found himself in the other room; it was only partially furnished, but there was a small bookcase, the shelves of which were filled with books. Edouard took one up at random; on examining the binding, it seemed to him to be exactly like that of the volumes which he had seen in Isaure’s hands.
"Yes, this is where the books come from that she has in her house!" he said to himself, his curiosity becoming greater with every moment. "This library is for her. Ah! here are grammars, abridgments of history, geography, treatises upon botany and the cultivation of flowers; certainly no one would have all these books in his library unless they were used for someone’s instruction. Yes, it must be the person who comes here who has educated Isaure; evidently she has learned here all that she knows more than the other peasants!"
And the young lover heaved a sigh, for he feared that the woman he loved had been taught too much.
He left this room and ascended a staircase leading from the vestibule to the rooms on the first floor. The keys were in all the doors. He entered a bedroom; the tumbled bed indicated that someone had passed the night there. Edouard, more perturbed than ever, looked carefully about; the desk was locked and so was the bureau; but he spied upon a table a pair of small pocket pistols; on examining them he found that they were loaded.
"Pistols!" exclaimed Edouard; "it can’t be a woman who carries such weapons! and yet sometimes, on a journey—but, no! no! it is a man who comes secretly to this house. A man! and Isaure refuses to go away from here! She cannot give me her hand as yet, she says. Can this man be her father? But she told me only this morning that she never knew her parents. No, it is not her father! Who then can this mysterious being be, who exercises such absolute control over her?"
Edouard threw himself upon a chair; his emotion was so intense, his heart beat so violently, that he needed a moment to recover himself. He glanced about the room and sighed as he said to himself:
"Ah! if only I could know all that has happened in this house!"
He replaced the pistols where they were, entered two other rooms, and finding nothing to throw light upon his suspicions, concluded that it was time to leave the deserted house. He closed the doors, descended the stairs, went out through the window on the ground floor, and stood once more in the courtyard adjoining the garden. After one last glance at the house, Edouard returned to the garden and left it by the same method by which he had entered. Looking about him once more, and convinced that no one had seen him, he walked rapidly away from the White House, even more anxious and tormented than he had been before visiting it.
Two days had passed since the visit Edouard had paid to the White House, and despite the suspicions which had arisen in his mind, when he saw Isaure his anxiety always vanished; she displayed so sincere an attachment for him, told him so earnestly how pleased she was that she had won his love, that he often blushed at the thought that he could give way to any feeling of jealousy.
Alfred, however, noticed that Edouard did not seem to be so happy as he should have been; more than once he had asked of his friend the reason of the melancholy and anxiety which he read in his eyes; and he always replied:
"Nothing is the matter, my dear Alfred; but you know very well that lovers are never entirely satisfied. If I had any real cause for unhappiness, to whom could I more fittingly confide it than to him who sacrificed his love to mine?"
But one day more, and Mademoiselle de la Pincerie would become Robineau’s wife. All the documents were ready, the gifts were purchased, the dresses prepared. The wedding was to take place at the town; and the husband and wife were to return thence to the château, where the wedding feast would be spread. It would have been more in accordance with custom that the bride’s family should return to their own house in the town, and that the groom should go thither to fetch his wife. But among his economical plans, the marquis numbered a determination never to keep house again, but to live always at his son-in-law’s château. That is why all the family had remained there. As the marquis declared that only the lower orders danced on their wedding-day, it was agreed that there should be no ball, and no dancing at the château; but Robineau had obtained from his future father-in-law a promise not to play whist that evening.
Nearly an hour had elapsed since all the guests in the château had separated in search of repose. Robineau, who had persuaded himself that he was very much in love, and who deemed himself highly honored to enter the family of a marquis, reflected that on the following day he was to lead the superb Cornélie to the altar, that the whole town would probably go to church to witness the ceremony, and that the wedding would be talked about for a long time. Cornélie thought of nothing but the two dresses that she was to wear that day, and the anger which all the young ladies would feel who had flattered themselves that they would be Robineau’s choice.
She remembered too that she was about to be the lady and mistress at the château, and she proposed to make the most of the privileges which those titles conferred upon her.
Edouard gave but little thought to the marriage which was in preparation. All his ideas, all his affections were centered in the little valley which contained Isaure and the White House, and he had too much to think about to make sleep easy for him. The marquis and his brother Mignon were already sound asleep; the former dreaming that he had invented a way of bringing up children on vapor; the other that he was looking for pins in a haystack. As for Alfred and Eudoxie, I cannot tell you positively what they were doing.
But suddenly shrieks were heard in the part of the building occupied by the servants. It was Benoît’s voice, waking the scullions, the cook and the concierge. He called them in great haste, shouting as loud as his fright allowed him to do:
"Get up! Look at the tower! Look over there! It’s the ghost! This time they’re not likely to say that I see double!"
Mademoiselle Cheval had gone to her window; she saw a light in one of the windows of the abandoned tower, whereupon she added her shrieks to Benoît’s.
"It is true!" she cried; "there is something there; perhaps it’s a thief; that light ought to be arrested!"
All the servants were soon on their feet; and as Monsieur de la Roche-Noire had told them that he would discharge them all if they did not discover what it was that had frightened them, they thought that they had better wake their master and let him see what was taking place. So they ran to the large gallery on the first floor, on which the chief apartments opened. The shouts of the servants woke Robineau with a start. He thought that the château was on fire; so he rang for François, and his first words when he appeared were:
"Firemen! firemen!"
"Firemen for the ghost, monsieur?" asked François in surprise.
"The ghost!" cried Robineau, putting his legs back into bed. "What! has anyone seen anything horrible?"
"We’ve seen a light in the North Tower, monsieur!"
"A light! the deuce! Go at once, François, and wake the gentlemen. Wake everybody! I will get up at once."
François went to Alfred’s door and knocked, but no one answered. Soon, however, all the other doors opened except Eudoxie’s. Edouard had drawn on his trousers, and came out to inquire the cause of the uproar. Cornélie, in a dressing jacket, over which she had hastily thrown a large silk shawl, appeared, with a candle in her hand. Monsieur Férulus also arrived, followed by Jeannette, whom no one had seen heretofore, and who had put on over her night-dress an old black waistcoat, which in no wise resembled a dressing jacket; while Monsieur Férulus, in his haste, had put on a housemaid’s cap; but everybody was too much engrossed to notice that. Everybody questioned everybody else.
"It’s the ghost in the tower!" said all the servants, while Mademoiselle Cornélie did not cease to call her sister, saying:
"And Monsieur Alfred, too—why doesn’t he get up?"
Robineau appeared in a pair of drawers in the waistband of which he had thrust a pair of pistols, while he had his gun under his left arm and a razor in his right hand.
At last Eudoxie partly opened her door, saying in a low voice:
"Why do you knock so at my door? It is a shame to wake me so suddenly! This will make me ill for a fortnight! I certainly shan’t go roaming about after the ghost! Let me sleep, I beg you; I have a sick headache."
"You shall have your sick headache some other night, sister," said Cornélie; "but as everybody else is up, you might as well do like the rest."
Eudoxie showed much temper, but finally came out of her room, half covered by a pelisse which she had thrown over her shoulders, and taking pains to stand in front of her door.
At that moment all the servants began to shriek at the top of their voices:
"There it is! It’s coming here!" they cried. And they ran to the other end of the gallery, pushing and jostling one another, while from the opposite direction advanced majestically a tall white figure, which was no other than Monsieur le Marquis de la Pincerie, who, with his tall, thin form, his fluttering night-shirt and his nightcap, might very well pass for a spectre.
Robineau had already taken aim at his future father-in-law, when he was recognized by his familiar cough.
"It is monsieur le marquis!" cried Robineau; "I believe that these fellows have become idiots."
"Certainly, it is I," said Monsieur de la Pincerie, stalking as proudly in his night-shirt as if he were in full uniform. "What has happened, in heaven’s name? Has anybody made an attack on the château?"
"Yes, what is it all about?" asked Alfred, who, in the midst of the uproar caused by the arrival of the marquis, had suddenly appeared among the company, no one knew whence.
"Ah, there you are, monsieur!" said Cornélie, with a sarcastic air. "For a gallant man, you are very slow in coming to the assistance of ladies."
"Because, mademoiselle, I thought that before all else, I ought at least to put on the necessary clothing."
"Yes," said Monsieur Férulus, stepping forward, "decency and good morals before everything,——"
Férulus did not finish his sentence, for he suddenly noticed that Jeannette was wearing an easily recognizable waistcoat. He led her into a dark corner of the gallery, and there while Jeannette removed his cap, he hastily took off the waistcoat, saying:
"Errare humanum est, Jeannette."
"But after all, what is the cause of all this shouting and uproar?" said Edouard.
"It’s the ghost, the spirit, walking in the tower at this time of night!" said Benoît.
"We all of us saw a light," said the servants.
"Well," said Alfred, "we must go and examine the tower, that’s all."
"That is so," said Robineau, "we must send all these cowards to examine the tower."
"Where is my Uncle Mignon?" asked Cornélie; "he is the only one who isn’t up."
"He absolutely refused to get out from under his bedclothes," said the marquis; "I told him to get up, but it was in vain. He never showed so much resolution before."
"Let us leave Monsieur Mignon under his bedclothes," said Edouard, "and let us go to the tower. Come, concierge, you know the way,—guide us."
Monsieur Cunette was no longer so incredulous since he had seen the light; he displayed much disinclination to guide the young men; and the other servants were no more anxious than he to accompany them to the tower.
"But, messieurs, who is going to take care of us?" said Eudoxie; "for we certainly are not going to examine that horrible tower with you."
"For my part, I am going back to bed," said the marquis; "for I feel a cold wind which makes me shiver, and if I had known that all this fuss was about a ghost, I would have done just as Mignon has—I would have remained in my bed."
"Mesdames, I will stay and take care of you," said Robineau; "I will not stir from your side; I refuse to leave you for an instant."
The ladies did not seem very much reassured by Robineau’s presence, and they absolutely insisted that Alfred or Edouard should remain with them also. But the former had already started, compelling the concierge to walk in front of him; so that Edouard was obliged to remain with the ladies, while Robineau said to the other servants:
"Follow Alfred, and at the slightest danger call me. It is very disagreeable not to be able to sleep in peace on the eve of one’s wedding!"
The servants bowed obediently, but when they reached the end of the gallery, they turned toward the kitchen instead of toward the tower.
Meanwhile, Alfred, carrying a torch in one hand and in the other a pistol which he had taken from Robineau, went with Cunette down the stairs which led to the door of the tower.
"Come, open this door," he said to the concierge.
"Open this door? Does monsieur really mean to go in there?"
"To be sure I do."
"You see there’s only two of us, monsieur; those other cowards didn’t come with us."
"We two are enough to arrest a thief, if there really is one in this building."
"But suppose there’s more than one, monsieur?"
"Then we could call for help."
"Yes, but before anyone could come to our help——"
"Open the door, Monsieur Cunette, I say!"
"I can’t find the key, monsieur; I must have left it in my room."
Alfred, losing his patience, dealt the old door a violent kick; it gave way and flew open, to the great surprise of the concierge. While the latter made his reflections thereupon, Alfred ascended the winding staircase; and when Cunette saw that the young man had gone up without him, he, instead of following him, went back to his comrades.
Alfred entered the old apartments on the first floor; he found no one there, and everything was in the same order as when he had visited the tower with Robineau. On leaving the first floor, he found that the concierge had left him; he pursued his investigations none the less, and went up to the floor above; finding no one there either, he went still higher up, and was about to enter the room called the arsenal, when he distinctly heard someone therein. He stopped, cocked his pistol, and listened; the noise had ceased. He abruptly opened the door of that room, which was as dark as night; but he fancied that he could see some one, absolutely still, in one corner. He walked toward that object, holding his light before him, and soon recognized the vagabond, seated tranquilly in an old armchair.
Alfred started back in surprise, and the stranger smiled, saying:
"You hardly expected to find me here, did you?"
"That is true," said Alfred, setting his candle down near him. "But what are you doing in this tower? How did you get into this château at night? Why have you come here? Answer me, and do not try to deceive me."
"What am I doing in this tower? Why, you see: I am resting. How did I get in? Oh! quite simply, through the door; for I have not the faculty of passing through keyholes, as the imbeciles in this château think. What I have come here for to-day is to see you, to whom I wished to speak secretly; and as I never meet you now in the mountains, because you never leave the château, I had no choice but to come here to see you; and it was my intention to tap lightly at the door of your room to-night."
The placidity, the perfect coolness with which the stranger answered Alfred, added to the latter’s surprise; he could not imagine that a malefactor, a man who had come there with the purpose of committing theft, would speak to him so calmly; moreover, there was nothing in the tower to tempt the cupidity of a thief; and he remembered that the man before him had not long before refused a purse which he had offered him.
The stranger, apparently divining the young man’s thoughts, said:
"You cannot imagine that I have come into this château for the purpose of committing theft. Since you have been living here with the new owner there have been very few nights that I have not come into this tower to rest; but I have never wished or attempted to go into any other part of the château, which, however, it would have been very easy for me to do. No, this place alone attracts me; it recalls memories of my childhood. I used to live in this château, in the time of the old dowager of whom you have heard. I noticed that no one lived in this tower, that it was altogether deserted, and I saw no great harm in coming sometimes at night to seek shelter within these walls, where I used to sleep so soundly long ago."
The stranger’s speech had become slow and melancholy as he said these last words; and, apparently engrossed by the memories which that old room in which he sat aroused in his mind, he glanced about at the walls, blackened by time, at the armor eaten by rust, which could still be seen in some of the corners. A sigh escaped from his breast, his eyes were moist; all his features expressed misery in the present and regret for the past.
Alfred could not avoid a secret thrill of emotion at the demeanor of that strange man.
"But," he said after a moment, "how do you get into the château?"
"Oh! that is very simple; near the little summerhouse in the garden, behind the statue of Mars, there is a little gate which has all the appearance of being condemned, because no one uses it; it happens that I still have the key to this gate, which opens into the fields. That is the way that I get into the garden; and from the garden it is not difficult to come here by following the main path, then the terrace; and without entering by the door you opened, one can go through the cellars and up to the ground floor."
"I see that you know the château perfectly, better, I am inclined to think, than the man who has bought it."
"In my childhood I have so often run through these corridors, these secret passages! In those days I was romantic, too. This Gothic château seemed to me well suited to the marvelous adventures of the days of chivalry; and I should have been overjoyed to meet a phantom in the vaults of this tower; but I never had that pleasure."
"But you must have expected to be seen, walking about with a light through these rooms?"
"There have been only two nights that I have lighted this little lantern with my flint and steel; I supposed that everybody in the château was asleep, and that they would not see the light in this tower. I could not resist the desire to see, to examine once more various things which I formerly—which were used long ago by the persons who lived in this château; and as there is not always a moon, you will agree that it would have been rather difficult to have gratified my curiosity without a light."
"Do you know that if anyone but myself had fallen in with you by night, you would have been arrested, imprisoned perhaps?"
"When one has reached the point where I am, what more has one to fear? Besides, I knew very well that no one in this château, except you and your friend, would be tempted to come to this tower at night; and indeed, if I had chosen to drive them all from the château, I should only have had to walk in the direction of the inhabited apartments at night with a sheet over my head; I will answer for it that the present owner would have been the first to take flight; but, I say again, I have never intended to frighten anybody, or to take anything from anybody; if I did frighten the old gardener once, I did it unintentionally; I did not expect to meet him in the garden so late."
"I believe you," said Alfred. "But let us come to what concerns me; you say that it is I whom you came here to see to-night. What have you to say to me? Speak."
The stranger’s features lost the expression which his memories of the past had seemed to inspire, and resumed that which they ordinarily wore.
"Yes," he replied, smiling sarcastically, "let us come to that subject; the present should be more important than all that has gone by, and can never return. It seems that, when you gave up to your friend the woman who had fascinated you, you altogether renounced the conquest of the little goatherd, as you no longer go to see her."
"What does it matter to you? Do I owe you an account of my sentiments? If you desire to speak to me with the purpose of renewing your hateful proposals, you are wasting your time; and I forbid you——"
"La! la! calm yourself, monsieur le baron! Oh! I have no desire to argue with you; but I should be very glad to convince you that I was not mistaken in the judgment I expressed concerning the girl whose innocence you feared to sully. A poor Agnes! who desires to induce your friend to marry her! I knew that there was something underneath it all."
"What more do you know about Isaure? Explain yourself."
"Her friend has arrived."
"Her friend?"
"Yes; or, at all events, the man who takes care of her, call him what you please. I was very certain, for my own part, that these dull-witted peasants could not have taught the girl the pretty manners which fascinated you. And then, the education which she has received, her marked ease of manner,—all that could come only from a man who loves her, and who, doubtless from jealousy, keeps her concealed among these mountains, where he hopes his treasure will not be discovered. Well, I tell you again, that man arrived this evening."
"Did you see him at Isaure’s house?"
"At her house? Oh, no! He is prudent; he does not go to the girl’s house; he is doubtless afraid of compromising her or of meeting people there; and from the precautions which this mysterious personage takes, it is easy to judge that he is terribly afraid of being seen."
"Go on."
"Well, the White House is the place where they meet."
"The White House?"
"Yes; I do not know whether this stranger is the owner; but what is certain is that he has the keys. He evidently arrived there this evening, and soon a little light shone at one of the windows of the house. Instantly the girl, who had been on the watch for some time, hurriedly left her cottage, and ran at full speed to the White House; a man, whom I saw very plainly, for I was hidden near by, opened the door, and the girl went in. What they did then, I cannot tell you precisely; but, not for a full hour did the door open again, and the young girl came out and returned to her own house, after an affectionate parting from the man she left behind. So all the mystery is cleared up! Now we know the perfectly natural cause of that which frightens the mountaineers in the neighborhood! We know, in short, why the girl was the only one who had no fear of the White House! It is almost always so; a lot of noise for nothing; marvelous happenings, which are nothing out of the common when examined at close quarters."
Alfred had listened attentively to the vagabond. He had much difficulty in believing that Isaure, who had seemed so artless and frank, could have deceived them to that extent.
"Are you perfectly certain of all you have told me?" he said at last, gazing fixedly at the man before him.
"If you don’t believe me, assure yourself of it. It is not probable that the man I saw has come into this part of the country for a single day. Your eyes will satisfy you that I have told you the truth; and you will regret perhaps that you did not follow my advice; you will be sorry that you stood on so much ceremony with a little sly-boots who laughed at you and your friend; but, I say again that, whenever you please, it will be easy enough to make up for lost time."
As he spoke, the stranger took his little lantern; and, leaving the room by a secret door, he disappeared before Alfred, who was lost in thought, had noticed his absence. Not till some minutes later did young De Marcey, happening to look up, discover that he was alone in the tower. Then he reflected that the people in the château must be surprised, and perhaps anxious, at his non-return. He would have been glad to talk further with the stranger, and especially to forbid him to come again at night to the château; but the man was no longer there, and Alfred decided to leave the tower.
The whole party was assembled in Cornélie’s apartment; the ladies were anxious; Edouard desired to go in search of Alfred, Monsieur Férulus quoted divers authors who denied the existence of ghosts, and Robineau still held his razor in his hand, repeating:
"A wedding-eve! It is very cruel to fatigue oneself so at such a time, is it not, my dear bride?"
The bride did not reply, but made a slight grimace, and Robineau said to himself:
"She does not like equivocal remarks; she is chastity personified."
At last Alfred returned, and they overwhelmed him with questions.
"Was there anybody there?"
"Was it a ghost?"
"Was it a thief?"
"Was it very terrible?"
"It was nothing at all," Alfred replied; "I found the tower empty, and everything in its place. The result is, we must conclude that the light that was seen was but the reflection of the moon on the window panes."
"But there is no moon to-night, my dear fellow," said Robineau.
"No? In that case, it was anything you please; but, I assure you, mesdames, that you may sleep in peace, and that no evil spirit will come to disturb you."
They were fain to be content with what Alfred said; they noticed, however, that he was much less cheerful than before he went to the tower; but he persisted in saying that he had seen nothing, and they decided at last to return to bed,—Eudoxie complaining because she had been awakened for nothing, Cornélie looking after Alfred to make sure that he returned to his room, Alfred glancing sadly at Edouard, uncertain whether or not to tell him what he had heard from the vagabond, and Robineau brandishing his razor, as if he had sworn to shave all the ghosts in the château.