Part 26

"Good! but what you don't know is that I don't propose that my friend shall be played with with impunity. That is why I hunted up this Comte de la Beriniere; I insulted him; we fought a duel, and he is now in his bed with a famous sword-thrust in his right side."

Monsieur Grandcourt jumped from his chair and struck his desk a violent blow, crying:

"Is it possible? You have done that?"

"As I have the honor to tell you. Do you wish to embrace me?"

"On the contrary, monsieur, I am much more inclined to throw you out of the window!"

"Indeed! well, as we are on the ground floor, if that will give you pleasure----"

"Why, monsieur, this is a horrible thing that you've done! And you call yourself Gustave's friend! You seem to be trying to wreck his life. Can't you see that this Fanny is an infernal coquette, who cares for nothing but money and pleasure, and who never had the slightest feeling of love for my nephew?"

"As far as that goes, I am entirely of your opinion."

"Very well! do you think, then, that marriage with such a woman would make Gustave happy?"

"_Dame!_ since he adores her----"

"Why, monsieur, do I need to tell you that love doesn't last forever? Besides, what purpose does that sentiment serve in a household when it's not reciprocated? Gustave is kind-hearted, sensitive, affectionate--much too affectionate. What he needs is a sweet, modest, loving helpmeet."

"That is true!" murmured Cherami; "and I know one of that sort."

"And you would have him marry a woman who has spurned him twice? Why, to miss being this Fanny's husband was the most fortunate thing that could happen to him! All his true friends ought to congratulate him on it. And you, monsieur, you set about removing the obstacle which had risen between my nephew and that widow! You fight with the man she preferred to Gustave! Ah! monsieur, cease to call yourself his friend; for his bitterest enemy would not have acted otherwise!"

Cherami paced the floor of the office with long strides, and bit his lips, muttering:

"Sacrebleu! that is all true. There is good sense in what you say. On the impulse of the moment, I didn't reflect. I saw but one thing to do--and that was to prevent the little widow's making a fool of Gustave."

"Oh! monsieur, she would do it much more effectively if he should marry her."

"After all, I didn't kill the count--a sword-thrust in the side is nothing; he will get well; the doctor said so."

"That is possible; but who can say that this duel will not change his plans, his ideas? At the count's age, a wound, an illness, sometimes ages a man ten years; and then love takes flight, and with it all thought of marriage."

"Oh! the count was dead in love, and when a fire gets started in an old house it burns faster than a new one."

"Do you still consider, monsieur, that it's very important to tell my nephew of your fine exploit? Have you any wish to see him rush to that wretched Fanny's side again?"

"You have changed my ideas entirely, dear uncle. I'm a hot-headed creature; but I am not pig-headed. When I feel that I've done a foolish thing, I admit it."

"That's something."

"But, I tell you again, the count's wound is not dangerous; he will recover."

"I trust so, monsieur; and above all things that he will marry this Fanny."

"In that case, you will no longer feel inclined to throw me out of the window?"

"In that case, I will forgive you for this last escapade."

"Adieu, dear uncle! Look you: you are hard with me; but in my heart I don't lay it up against you, because I see that you love your nephew."

"Ah! have you just discovered that?"

"I shall take pains to keep you informed as to the health of our venerable lover. As soon as he is on his legs again, I will come to tell you. And then, if he should try to back out of marrying the little widow, why, par la sambleu! he will have to draw his sword again."

"I beg you, monsieur, don't interfere any more; that's the only way to have the thing end satisfactorily."

"You haven't much confidence in me, dear uncle; but I will compel you to do me justice."--And Cherami took leave of the banker, saying to himself: "That devil of a man is right. I made an ass of myself; but I'll go to work differently now."

LVI

IMPATIENCE WITHOUT LOVE

While these things were taking place, Madame Monleard was in a state of feverish unrest.

Since the Comte de la Beriniere had definitely offered her his hand, which she had not refused, he came every day to pay his respects to her. The ten months of widowhood, which the conventionalities demand, had passed. The count, who was in haste to witness the coronation of his flame, was already arranging the preliminaries of his marriage. Among them were gifts,--jewels and cashmere shawls,--and, on the day preceding that on which he had received Cherami's visit, he had passed the whole day taking Fanny about to see the latest styles in gowns and shawls, so that he might understand her tastes and govern his purchases accordingly. And the pretty widow had shown no embarrassment about riding in the carriage which was soon to belong to her.

During the day following Cherami's challenge, the count, having to seek seconds for his duel, had had no time to call on Fanny. He did not see her until evening, and, like the well-bred man he was, had taken care not to mention the affair which he had on his hands because of her. The next day, his seconds had called on his adversary, and had then reported to Monsieur de la Beriniere that the time and place and all the details of the duel had been agreed upon. That had given the count further food for thought. He was no coward, and yet the duel was exceedingly disagreeable to him; his interviews with the pretty widow had shown the effects of it; he had been less amorous, less affable, and less cheerful in her presence.

When the following day came and went without a call from the count, Fanny was first surprised, then vexed, then alarmed. Twenty times she went to her mirror, which told her that she was as pretty as ever, and that her elderly adorer ought to be only too happy that she condescended to pretend to love him. Meanwhile, the day passed, and the evening, and the count did not appear.

"He means to make me some beautiful present," said Fanny to herself; "and he wants to bring it himself; but all these shopkeepers are so little to be depended on! He probably waited in vain, and didn't want to come without his present. I shall have it to-morrow."

On the morrow, the clock struck twelve, one, two, and no sign of the count.

"This isn't natural," thought Fanny. "Something must certainly have happened. I remember, now, that Monsieur de la Beriniere was distraught, preoccupied, the last two evenings that he was here. I charged him with it, and he said I was mistaken. But I was not mistaken!--Justine, go down and ask the concierge if there isn't a letter for me; if a message hasn't come from the count. Those people often forget to tell you when anyone calls."

Justine soon returned, and informed her mistress that there were no letters and that no one had called. Fanny placed herself at the window, and still there was no arrival.

At five o'clock in the afternoon, unable to remain inactive any longer, she said to her maid:

"Take a cab by the hour; here is Monsieur de la Beriniere's address; go there, and find out from the concierge if anything has happened to him; if he is ill, ask to see him, and tell him how deeply interested I am in his health. Go quickly, so that I may know what to think."

Justine went off in her cab. The pretty widow counted the minutes and kept looking at the clock. At last her servant returned. Her breathless, dismayed air made it evident enough that she had something to tell; and as she entered the room, she cried out, wringing her hands:

"Ah! madame, indeed there is something new. Oh! the poor count! what a calamity!"

"Heavens! Justine, is he dead?"

"No, madame; he isn't dead yet, but very near it!"

"What accident has happened to him, then?"

"No accident, madame; but a fight with swords--a duel, in fact!"

"The count has been fighting a duel?"

"Yes, madame; and yesterday morning they brought him home wounded. A bad sword-wound in the side, which might have been mortal! But it seems he's going to get well; the doctor hopes he will, but doctors are mistaken so often!"

"Oh! mon Dieu! Why, this is horrible! With whom did he fight?"

"His valet doesn't know, madame. The count didn't take him with him."

"Well, I will find out, I will find out. A duel! Who besides Gustave could have had the idea of fighting with Monsieur de la Beriniere? That fellow was born to be the bane of my life.--So you didn't see the count?"

"No, madame; the doctor said that nobody must see him to-day; but to-morrow, perhaps, that order will be changed."

"The poor count! if only he doesn't die! Just think, Justine, what an awful nuisance for me!"

"So it is. But if madame were a countess, it wouldn't be but half bad."

"You say the doctor promises that he will recover?"

"So the valet told me."

"Well, I will go myself to-morrow; but I must see my sister first."

"I thought that madame did not go to her father's now?"

"Oh! because in an outburst of anger he told me not to come again. As if he remembered that! Besides, it isn't my father that I want to see, but Adolphine."

The next morning, at eleven o'clock, Madame Monleard was ushered into the presence of her sister, who uttered a cry of surprise when she saw her.

"What! is it you, Fanny?"

"To be sure; Madeleine told me that father had just gone out; I am glad of that."

"Oh! never fear; his anger has passed away. It never lasts long with him, you know."

"But I am the one who is angry now."

"You! with whom?"

"With everybody. You pretend to be surprised; but you must know what has happened?"

"No. What can have happened to irritate you so?"

"I have good reason for it. Monsieur de la Beriniere fought a duel the day before yesterday, and was badly wounded; a little more and they'd have killed him for me!"

"Mon Dieu! with whom did he fight, in heaven's name?"

"Do you ask me that? You know well enough; indeed, it's easy enough to guess."

"I certainly cannot guess."

"Who but Gustave, in his rage, because I preferred the count to him?"

"Gustave? why, that is impossible. He left Paris a week ago; he came to say good-bye to us, and Monsieur de Raincy, who has just come from England, met him there."

"Is it possible that it wasn't Gustave? Then who could it have been--unless it was that tall swashbuckler who fought with Auguste?"

"Yes, it must have been he."

"That's it! that fellow seems to have the very devil in him! As soon as I am married, or when someone thinks of marrying me, he appears with his long sword. Why, it's a perfect outrage! Ah! that Monsieur Cherami! And I have been so polite to him, too--asked him to come to see me!"

"What! you asked him to come to see you? A man who had fought with your husband?"

"Well! what has that to do with it? You know perfectly well that they made it up. But I must go to inquire for the poor count. Perhaps I can see him to-day, and find out how this duel came about. Ah! mon Dieu! if Monsieur de la Beriniere should die, I should be a widow a second time, and without being a countess!"

Fanny left Adolphine much disturbed and agitated by what she had heard. The young widow drove to Monsieur de la Beriniere's house, and found that the doctor had revoked his orders of the day before; she could see the count, on condition that she would not let him talk much.

The young woman entered the sick-room with every manifestation of the keenest interest; she uttered heartfelt exclamations, sighed profoundly, and winked her eyes so often that she succeeded in making them very red. The count smiled at his pretty visitor and held out his hand, which she seized and pressed to her bosom.

"If you had been killed," she cried, "I should not have survived you! But who was the savage? How did this duel come about?"

"I am forbidden to talk," murmured the count, in a weak voice.

"Oh! of course, excuse me. My curiosity is very natural, however. Just a word: was it my old play-fellow with whom you fought?"

"No; it was a friend of his--named Cherami."

"Monsieur Cherami? Oh! the miserable wretch! It was he before--with Auguste. But what, in God's name, have I ever done to that man? or, rather, what have they whom I love done to him? However, my dear count, you will recover, there's no doubt of that; and then, by dint of love and loving attentions, I hope to make you forget an incident of which I was the first cause."

"You think it isn't serious?"

"No, certainly not; it will amount to nothing. God! if the wound had been dangerous--if I had had reason to fear for your life--I don't know what would have become of me! Ah! when anything happens to those who are dear to us, that is the time we feel--how dear they are to us!"

"You are too kind."

"Are you in pain?"

"Only a little; but I am exceedingly weak."

"I will go, for I am capable of talking to you too much, in spite of myself, and that would tire you. Au revoir, my dear count! I will come every day, or send to inquire for you."

"Thanks a thousand times!"

"May the thought of me be some company to you, as the thought of you will be a sweet consolation to me!--Mon Dieu! how hideous he is in bed!" said the little woman to herself as she left the room.

LVII

CHERAMI ATTEMPTS TO REPAIR HIS MISTAKES

Three weeks passed. The count was beginning to sit up and to walk about his room; but he was still very weak, and the blood that he had lost seemed to have carried away all that he had still retained of youthfulness, activity, and amiability. Fanny had been to see him almost every day, although she was sadly bored all the time that she was with the wounded man; she was very careful, however, to conceal her ennui and to dissemble her yawns; on the contrary, she feigned to be more affectionate than ever; but his convalescence seemed to her interminable, especially because she did not fail to notice the change that had taken place in the humor of her future spouse, who seemed to have aged ten years in a fortnight.

Soon the count was able to drive out; whereupon Fanny murmured, lowering her eyes:

"I think that we might now fix the day which is to unite us forever."

But Monsieur de la Beriniere shook his head.

"I am not strong enough yet," he replied.

And the young widow said to herself:

"I am very much afraid that he never will be strong enough again!"

Things were at this point, when Madame Monleard's maid informed her mistress one morning that Monsieur Cherami requested the honor of an interview with her.

"Monsieur Cherami!" cried Fanny. "What! that man dares show himself at my house! my evil genius! But, no matter! I am curious to know what he can have to say to me.--Show the gentleman in."

Cherami, who had not omitted to make an elaborate toilet, came forward with a smiling face, saying:

"Madame Monleard did not expect a call from me?"

"No, monsieur, most assuredly not. After what has taken place between you and Monsieur de la Beriniere, I did not expect to see you here; but, since you are here, I trust that you will be good enough to tell me why you challenged a man you did not know, and who had not injured you?"

"Mon Dieu! madame, surely you can guess. I wished to avenge poor Gustave, whom you have played with like a macaroon."

"Great heaven! monsieur, what is the meaning of this frenzy of yours for taking up the cudgels for Gustave? He doesn't think of fighting duels himself, you see! he takes things as they come; he's a good boy, and doesn't lose his head; he goes away, and that's the end of it. But you! And your conduct is all the more blamable because, when I met you not long ago, you made me all sorts of offers of your services. You assured me that you would be overjoyed if you could be agreeable to me in any way; and, in order to be agreeable to me, you go to work and challenge Monsieur de la Beriniere, for no reason at all; you compel him to fight; and you run your sword into him just when he was going to marry me! If that's the kind of service you meant to offer me, I excuse you from obliging me hereafter."

"I begin by confessing, madame, that I realize my mistake. I followed the first impulse; but I was wrong. I have realized since that I made an awful blunder; and I have come humbly to beg your pardon."

"You confess your wrong-doing; that is well enough! but what is done is done, none the less."

"The count has recovered; he goes out to drive; I am sure of that."

"Yes, the count is beginning to go out; but he is not the same man; his humor has completely changed; he has lost his light, playful tone. He was a young man, now he's old. When I mention our marriage, he replies: 'My strength doesn't seem to come back.'--In short, he no longer acts as if he were in love with me; and you, monsieur, you are the cause of it."

"Very well, madame; as I have done the mischief, I propose to remedy it. The count shall become amorous again, and of a cheerful humor, and eager to marry you; for I want him to marry you now, and, par la sambleu! I will succeed! I have my cue!"

"You have a cue?"

"That's just a little phrase I'm in the habit of using; I mean that I have my scheme."

"Are you telling me the truth, monsieur? Do you really desire now to see me marry Monsieur de la Beriniere?"

"Madame, women have often deceived me; but I have always been honest with them--in order not to resemble them. I have no reason for lying to you."

"And how do you propose to set about making the count what he was?"

"Rely on me! But it is necessary that Monsieur de la Beriniere should consent to receive me. If I call on him, it's not certain that he will see me. You must have the kindness to say a few words to him in my favor--that I realize my mistake and would be glad to apologize to him; that I have asked you to intercede for me."

"If that is all that is necessary, all right. I shall go to see the count soon; come to-morrow morning, and I will tell you what he says. Suppose it is favorable?"

"A week hence, it will all be over, and you will be a countess."

"Really? but what method do you propose to employ?"

"Don't you be disturbed; I have my cue, I tell you."

LVIII

THE COUSIN'S SPECIFIC

About midday, the pretty widow paid her customary visit to Monsieur de la Beriniere, whom she found installed in his easy-chair _a la_ Voltaire, drinking herb tea.

"How are you to-day, my dear count?" she inquired, taking a seat by the convalescent's side.

"I am getting on very slowly, thank you, fair lady; the wound has entirely healed, but my strength doesn't return very fast."

"What are you drinking there?"

"An infusion of linden leaves."

"Do you think that that stuff will ever bring back your strength?"

"My doctor says that it's an excellent thing. It's very soothing."

"It seems to me that you are quite calm enough. Look you, count, I haven't much confidence in your doctor."

"But, you see, he has cured my wound."

"Your wound would have healed of itself; that wasn't a disease; but now, instead of giving you something to build you up, he puts you on herb tea and slops; he treats you like a child!"

"Perhaps you are right, dear lady. It's a fact that he is keeping me to this diet a good while, on the pretext that I must be prudent."

"If you listen to him, you'll be under the same treatment six months hence. But enough of that subject; I am intrusted with a singular errand to you."

"What is it, dear lady?"

"The man with whom you fought this duel----"

"Monsieur Cherami?"

"Exactly. Monsieur Cherami called on me this morning----"

"The deuce! did he undertake to challenge you also?"

"Oh, no! far from it! He came to ask my pardon for his conduct. He realizes his mistake; he is in despair at what he did; and he wishes, as a great favor, to be allowed to come to offer you his apologies and tell you how delighted he is at your recovery."

"Pardieu! he's an extraordinary mortal! He insists upon fighting for his friend----"

"Yes; it was in a moment of exasperation."

"And now he's sorry for it! But I bear the fellow no ill-will at all. He fences very well; ah! he's an excellent blade!"

"And you will allow him to come to offer his apologies?"

"Willingly; but listen: only on condition that he will tell me who the two seconds were that he brought with him. You can't form an idea, madame, of those two men, who certainly had never assisted at such a performance before! It was enough to make you burst with laughing. De Gervier was much amused; but De Maugrille was on the point of losing his temper; he wanted to fight them. It was altogether funny, I assure you."

"Then you are willing that Monsieur Cherami should come to see you?"

"Yes, on the condition I have suggested."

"He will readily agree to that, I fancy; he is to come to me to-morrow morning to learn your reply, and I will send him to you."

"Very good! I must say that this Monsieur Cherami seemed to me no less clever than original."

Cherami did not fail to return to Madame Monleard's on the following day; she told him that Monsieur de la Beriniere consented to receive him, on condition that he would tell him who his seconds were.

"And now," said the widow, "how do you propose to restore the count's health and good-humor?"

"Never fear, madame," replied Beau Arthur; "that is my business; the count needs to be set up mentally, as well as physically. He's like an old clock that won't go; but as long as the mainspring isn't broken, there's a way out of the difficulty; I'll set him going."

On leaving Fanny, Cherami took a cab and drove to the Palais-Royal, where he went into Corselet's and purchased a half-bottle of the finest chartreuse; then he removed the label, the seal, and everything which could lead to the identification of the liqueur, put the bottle in his pocket, and repaired to Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque, saying to himself:

"It comes high; but one cannot make too many sacrifices when it's a question of ensuring a friend's happiness. I have only a hundred and fifty francs left of Gustave's thousand; but I will spend them with the best will in the world, if I can by that means induce our elderly lover to marry the little widow."

Monsieur de la Beriniere was informed that Monsieur Cherami craved the favor of an interview.

"Show him in," said the count.

Cherami, fashionably dressed and perfumed as in his halcyon days, presented himself before the count, who stepped forward to meet him.

"I beg you, monsieur le comte, do not rise! I understand that you are still weak; and I am too fortunate in being allowed to pay my respects to you and to offer my apologies for my insane behavior toward you."

"Let us say no more about it, Monsieur Cherami; you wanted a duel with me, and you had it--it's all over with now. Pray be seated, and just tell me, between ourselves, who those two individuals were who acted as your seconds? You will agree that their aspect--their whole manner--was very comical; and I would stake my head that it was the first time they were ever present at a duel."

"Faith! that's the truth, monsieur le comte; but what would you have? Everybody that I relied upon failed me, and I had no choice; I persuaded, albeit with much difficulty, those two men of business to attend me on the field of honor."

"Who were the fellows?"

"The elder, monsieur le comte, deals in water from Mont-Dore on a large scale; the younger is his clerk."

"Are they Auvergnats?"

"Yes, monsieur le comte."

"I would have bet anything on it. However, the younger one is as strong as an ox, apparently, for they tell me that he carried me in his arms to my carriage."

"That is true; he is very strong.--Is monsieur le comte's wound entirely cured?"

"Yes, it has cicatrized. But our meeting was six weeks ago, and my strength doesn't come back."