Part 17

"I am going to tell Miretta to finish this tapestry; the work tires me, and the little Béarnaise does it so beautifully!--She did that corner, and it's much better than I can do. She is running over with talent, that girl--she has excellent taste in everything; she trims a cap with marvellous skill!--Will you allow her to work here, aunt, on my stool? We shall not have any visitors to-day."

The old lady confined herself to a nod of assent.

Miretta entered the salon.

"Come here, Miretta," said Valentine, pointing to the stool; "sit here, and work on my embroidery; this work bores me; in any event, I am in no mood to hold a needle this morning; I am tired. Sit down. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Don't hurry, work at your ease; this foot rest is not needed at present.--Did you see everybody last night, Miretta?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I helped the ladies to take off their cloaks and mantles and shawls in the small reception room."

"Ah! to be sure. There were some very pretty ladies, were there not?"

"Oh, yes! but----"

"Well! finish."

"Mademoiselle will think that I mean to pay her a compliment; but I am not given to flattery--I say just what I think."

"Well, say it; what do you think?"

"That mademoiselle was the most beautiful of all the ladies, married or single, who were at the house last evening."

"Really? Why, that is very prettily said.--Do you hear what Miretta says to me, aunt?"

Madame de Ravenelle did not reply, but they heard a sound as of prolonged breathing.

"Ah! my aunt is asleep this time," continued Valentine; "so much the better; we can talk more freely; but we will speak a little lower.--Well! my poor Miretta, so you consider me beautiful enough to carry the day over many other women. Several gentlemen told me last night what you have just told me. I received a multitude of compliments, attentions, even declarations! I am well aware that I must look upon them as the little courtesies which it is customary to address to ladies, but, after all, I know also that I am not ugly! And, nevertheless, there is one young man who does not choose to see me, for fear that he may be obliged to show me a little attention."

"Oh! that is most surprising, mademoiselle; unless, indeed, this young noble has some other passion in his heart!"

"That is what I thought, myself; but I am told that it is not so!"

"But can anyone know such things?"

"Oh! you are right, Miretta; is it possible to know the secrets of the heart? But look you, Miretta: I am very sure of one thing--that is, that you love someone!"

"I, mademoiselle?" replied the girl, blushing.

"Yes, yes! you! Come, tell me the secrets of your heart; since you have been in my service, I have watched you closely; in the first place, you are not light-hearted and merry, as a girl should be; you sigh very often; and when you think that you are not observed, you raise your eyes to heaven as if in entreaty--for whom? Ah! it can only be for the man whom one loves that one addresses such eloquent glances to heaven! Am I wrong, Miretta? have you not in your heart a love which makes you unhappy? Come, confess it!"

"Yes, mademoiselle, you are not mistaken; it is true that my heart is--is no longer mine."

"Ah! I was perfectly sure of it; but then the man whom you love so dearly does not reciprocate, since you sigh so much?"

"I beg pardon, mademoiselle; the man I love does return my love."

"Then why are you sad so often? Perhaps it is because there are obstacles; you are not allowed to see each other, you are forbidden to love."

"There are many obstacles, mademoiselle, in truth, and I meet him very rarely."

"But he is in Paris, is he?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"And it was to join him that you came hither, I will warrant."

"That is true, mademoiselle."

"See what a power of divination I possess! But what does your lover do? Is he not free? Are you not able to marry?"

Miretta lowered her eyes, her bosom heaved painfully, the pallor of deadly alarm overspread her brow.

"Well! I see that I make you unhappy!" continued Valentine; "let us say no more about it. But still, you do see your lover sometimes, and then you are very happy. Oh! when that happens, I can detect it by your face; you are no longer the same girl that you were the day before; you smile and are almost gay. Because, as I believe it is as difficult to conceal one's happiness as one's suffering.--For my part, I have no love for the man they would like me to marry; no, indeed! I have not the slightest love for him, although he is a very well-favored young man."

"Ah! do you know him, mademoiselle?"

"Very little; I have seen him once or twice in society. He is the son of that old nobleman who was here last night--that tall, thin man with a severe expression, dressed all in black, in the style of the time of Henri IV, with a ruff that concealed his chin--the Marquis de Marvejols, in fact."

"The Marquis de Marvejols! Is it his son whom you are expected to marry, mademoiselle?"

"To be sure! why that exclamation?"

"Because, last night I was in the main vestibule when that old gentleman arrived."

"Well! what then?"

"All your servants were there, and also a clerk from the office of your aunt's solicitor, who had come to give her some information about some business--a debt due her, or something else, I don't know what! But, as you may imagine, they told the little clerk--for he is a very small fellow--they told him that there was a grand reception going on, and that madame could not receive him."

"What relation has all this to the old Marquis de Marvejols?"

"Why, mademoiselle, when Monsieur Bahuchet--that is the little clerk's name--when he found that he could not be received, he put his papers in his pocket, saying: 'Very well; I will return to-morrow.'--But, instead of going away at once, as the guests were arriving, he remained a long while in the vestibule, talking with the major-domo and the servants. He is a great gossip, but he is amusing; for he made comments on everybody who arrived, and I assure you, mademoiselle, that sometimes he said some very comical things.--So, when this old gentleman arrived, and the servant announced Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols, the little clerk cried:

"'Ah! I know that nobleman, and his son too. He had a pretty little pile of debts, had the son; but the father paid them all some time ago; it was my master, my solicitor, who called the creditors together. Comte Léodgard promised to reform, but he doesn't reform; he is beginning to run in debt again; and then, he's a great fellow for midnight intrigues! I'll wager that he won't come here to-night; he is too fully occupied elsewhere!'"

"The clerk said that?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I was quite near him and I heard him plainly."

"Well! what else did he say? go on!"

"He said nothing more on that subject, mademoiselle; for other persons arrived, and he had comments to make on them. It seems that that young man knows all Paris; but nothing more was said about the son of Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols."

"What a pity! I should be so glad to know something more; and it is very probable that this clerk--what did you call him?"

"Bahuchet, mademoiselle; a bit of a man, not so tall as I am, and with a most original face!"

"This Monsieur Bahuchet must know more; and as he is so talkative, if one had an opportunity to question him----"

At that moment the door of the salon opened, and a servant appeared and said:

"The clerk from the office of madame's solicitor, who came last evening, wishes to know if he may speak to Madame de Ravenelle."

"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Valentine, jumping for joy. "Let him come in; he could not come more opportunely!"

"Eh! mon Dieu! what is it? why this noise, these cries?" demanded the old lady, rudely awakened from her nap. "What is the matter, Valentine?"

"Your solicitor's clerk wishes to speak with you, aunt."

"And that is your reason for shrieking so! Let them send the clerk away; I do not care to attend to any business to-day, I am too tired."

"But, aunt, he came last night; and then, if you knew--he will tell us some very interesting things about the young Comte de Marvejols."

"What! my solicitor?"

"His clerk. I beg you, my dear aunt, let me question him; do not you take the trouble to speak, if it tires you; I will speak for you."

Madame de Ravenelle threw herself back in her reclining chair, and at the same instant Monsieur Bahuchet was ushered into the presence of the ladies.

XXIV

THE WHITE PLUME

At sight of that young man of four feet eight, with his enormous head, his huge mouth, his gaping nostrils, and, with all the rest, a self-assured and pretentious air which bordered closely upon impertinence, Valentine turned her head away in order not to laugh in his face.

Bahuchet took four steps into the salon, then made two very low reverences, one to Madame de Ravenelle, the other to her niece. As for Miretta, he simply bestowed a patronizing smile upon her, as if to say:

"I know you, my dear; I know that you are the lady's-maid."

"What do you want with me, monsieur?" inquired the old lady, without moving.

"Madame, I am sent hither by my employer, Maître Pierre-Guillaume Bourdinard, your solicitor before the courts, and am instructed to inform you, on the part of said Bourdinard, that Sieur Benoît-Gervais Cocatrix, your tenant and debtor, now occupying your property on Rue des Lions-Saint-Paul, has not yet paid his rent for the current term, or for previous terms since he has occupied the said property, albeit we have duly and frequently served upon him notices and citations on stamped paper, which citations, engrossed by your humble servant, Nicolas Bahuchet, should be paid for by the debtor, who, however----"

"Enough! enough!" said the old lady, motioning to the little clerk to hold his peace; "you drive me mad with your pettifogger's jargon. Come to the point, if you please; has my tenant paid his rent?"

"I was proceeding to certify the contrary by my peroration, if madame had allowed me to finish.--I continue: And Maître Bourdinard, my worthy employer, having to no purpose threatened your tenant, desires to know whether he shall grant him still more time, or shall force him to vacate the premises _ex abrupto_."

"How now, monsieur! Are you talking Latin to me? Do you imagine that by any chance I can understand it? Let my solicitor procure my money for me; he may employ whatever method he chooses--that is his affair. But I do not choose to be pestered any more with this business; that, I trust, is understood."

"Perfectly, madame; your orders shall be carried out. I will transmit them to Maître Bourdinard personally, as I now have the honor to speak with you, and the law will take its course. _Dixi!_ Whereupon I have the honor----"

And the little clerk was already preparing to take his leave, when Valentine said to him:

"One moment, monsieur; I have a question or two--some information to request from you. But I would be very glad if, in answering me, you would employ neither Latin nor the phraseology of the courtroom."

"Oh! with pleasure, mademoiselle; now that my employer's errand is done, I become once more a jovial Basochian, master of his acts and his tongue. But when we are performing our duties as clerk, we must needs adopt the manner and language of the office. Moreover, it is always well to show that one has education! That is what I constantly tell Plumard, who thinks of nothing but finding pomades to make his hair grow. Plumard is my fellow clerk, but he is bald and----"

"I do not desire to speak to you of your fellow clerk Plumard, monsieur; but last evening you made comments in a loud tone upon a large number of persons who came to our reception."

"That is quite possible, mademoiselle; comments of no consequence. One must talk and laugh a bit, and show that one has conversational powers."

"All your comments were not without consequence, monsieur; especially those in which you indulged concerning the son of Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols."

"Concerning the marquis's son? Ah, yes! Monsieur le Comte Léodgard; what did I say about him?--In the first place, I do not know him personally; I have never seen him except at a distance; I may have repeated what everybody says: that he was in debt; that his father paid fifty thousand livres for him lately! That is true, for Maître Bourdinard, my employer, called the creditors together in his office, in order to obtain the best conditions and the greatest possible abatement."

"That is not all; you added that Comte Léodgard certainly would not come to our reception.--What made you think so, monsieur?"

Bahuchet smiled cunningly, scratched his forehead, and shifted from one leg to the other like a canary; he seemed to hesitate before replying, and looked now at the old lady, now at her niece, and again at Miretta.

"Well, monsieur, did you not hear my question?" added Mademoiselle de Mongarcin impatiently, and in an imperious tone.

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle, I heard you perfectly; but there are some things which we young clerks of the Basoche say to one another, or when talking with the common people, which we should not dare to say to a young lady of noble birth."

"Since you have had a good education, monsieur, you should be able to use suitable terms in which to state a fact, and to refrain from saying anything that can offend my ears. So much the worse for you, if you cannot find a way to express yourself becomingly."

Bahuchet's self-esteem was stung to the quick; Valentine had hit upon the way to make him speak. He rested the hand in which he held his hat on his hip, and, striking an attitude like an advocate, said:

"Mademoiselle, I am very well able to express myself, and to select my words according to my audience. Thank heaven, I have fitted myself for the profession! My parents were poor, but poverty is not a vice! I do not know who it was that dared to say: 'It is something much worse!' but I do not share his opinion. Ignorance is a vice, and so is stupidity! Wealth does not always go hand in hand with merit! On the contrary, it seems to take pleasure in sneering at it!--Homer, poor and blind, wandered through the streets and public squares, reciting verses to obtain a crust of bread. Plautus, that original, satirical comic poet, turned the wheel of a mill for his livelihood. Agrippa died in the hospital. And it is said that the illustrious author of _Don Quixote_, Miguel Cervantes, died of want. Tasso was often reduced to the necessity of borrowing a crown."

"Mon Dieu! will he never be done?" said Valentine, turning to Miretta; "I am sure that my aunt has fallen asleep again."

The little clerk, observing that the beautiful young lady paid no attention to him, decided to return to the subject upon which she had questioned him.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle; I allow myself to be led astray by my schoolboy reminiscences. I return to the question which you did me the honor to ask me. I did say, it is true, that I believed Monsieur le Comte Léodgard to be too much engrossed by new intrigues at this moment to have time to come to your fête. My reason for saying that was that I have a friend--that is to say, a confrère--or a friend, no matter which!--one Plumard, who is bald already, at twenty-six! That is rather early to be bald!--Now, Plumard lives on Rue Dauphine--a small room under the eaves. And a few days ago we were leaning out of his window, looking into the street, and I recognized the young Comte de Marvejols walking back and forth and watching, out of the corner of his eye, the house of a bath keeper, who it seems has a charming daughter, a model of grace, beauty, and innocence. The parents never allow this enchanting creature to go out; the mother especially watches her with the greatest care. But Plumard said to me, laughingly: 'That young gentleman comes prowling about the house every day--he even comes in the evening! and it is probable that he comes late at night! He surely must have seen the bath keeper's daughter, and it is on her account that he passes his time in this quarter.'"

"A bath keeper's daughter!" exclaimed Valentine, with a disdainful air. "Is it possible that the son of the Marquis de Marvejols forgets himself to such a degree as to address his sighs to one so far beneath him!"

"But if the little one is a model of beauty, as they say," murmured the undersized clerk, "that causes much to be overlooked!"

"You know a bath keeper's daughter, Miretta; you go to see her sometimes, do you not? Can it be the same one?"

"No, mademoiselle; the one I know is very good-looking too, but she lives on Rue Saint-Jacques; she lost her mother long ago."

"I know whom you mean!" cried Bahuchet; "you mean Ambroisine, whom they call La Belle Baigneuse. Ah! she's a very handsome girl--tall and well built! She is Master Hugonnet's daughter, whose baths are very popular.--Oh! I know her; I know all Paris, I do! But she isn't the one in question, for my friend Plumard--his name ought to be _Plumé_ [plucked], for before long he will not have three hairs on his scalp---- But, no matter; Plumard told me about the daughter of his neighbor, the bath keeper on Rue Dauphine. His name is Landry; he is an old soldier, who will not look on it as a joke if he learns that a gallant is making love to his daughter, whatever the gallant's name and rank may be!"

"And--was it long ago, monsieur, that you had this conversation at your friend's window on Rue Dauphine?"

"About six weeks, mademoiselle."

"Have you seen your friend again since? Has he told you anything more concerning Monsieur Léodgard de Marvejols's love affairs?"

"I have seen Plumard very often since. We sometimes dine together at the cook shop. A few days, or rather a few nights ago, I escorted my comrade home; it was very late, almost midnight; we had been singing and playing cards and drinking a long, long while, and Plumard, who is not over brave, was afraid to go home alone. He was in dread of falling in with Giovanni the robber--the famous Italian brigand whom our archers, our arquebusiers, our watch, in fact, all our soldiery, have not succeeded in catching. They are not shrewd. To secure that villain's arrest, I shall have to take a hand in it. But I will show them how to catch him. I know how they must go to work to do it, and----"

"You will have Giovanni arrested?" cried Miretta, whose face had turned deathly pale.

"Well, well! what has happened to you, child?" said Valentine, almost alarmed by her maid's abrupt exclamation. "Mon Dieu! how excited you are!"

"I beg pardon, mademoiselle; excuse me; but monsieur said that he knew how they could arrest this Italian--this Giovanni."

"How does that concern you? You do not seem to be afraid of him, for you never go out except at night, and you come home quite late, so Béatrix tells me."

"That is true, mademoiselle; but, for all that, I would like to know----"

"But I wish to know what concerns Monsieur Léodgard. I am not at all interested in this famous robber.--For heaven's sake, Monsieur Bahuchet, go on. You were taking your friend Plumard home, to Rue Dauphine."

"Yes, mademoiselle; we were walking quietly along, arm in arm, talking together, and he was assuring me that he had discovered three more hairs on his head since the night before, and he attributed that capillary recrudescence to some grease made from a man who had been hanged, which an old woman had presented to him."

"Ah! monsieur, you abuse my patience!"

"A thousand pardons, mademoiselle! I continue.--About a hundred yards from the bath keeper's house, Plumard stopped and squeezed my arm.

"'What is it?' I asked, without wincing. 'I am not afraid of anything; I am as brave as a lion. What did you see, Plumard?'

"'What I saw,' he replied, 'was a man climbing into a window on the first floor of yonder house.'

"And he pointed to Master Landry's house.

"'Let us hurry,' said I; 'we must make sure of the fact.'

"And I pulled Plumard along by the arm; but he did not go any more quickly for that. When we drew near the window in question, at which there is a balcony, we thought that we saw a rope, or a rope ladder, which someone hastily drew up. When we were in front of the house, we saw nothing.--Was it a lover? was it a thief?--I recalled Comte Léodgard's watches in front of the bathing establishment, and I said to Plumard:

"'This must be the sequel of what we saw from your window.'

"But Plumard, who sees thieves everywhere, did not agree with me; he wanted to call the watch and the neighbors; but, happening to glance at my feet, directly beneath the balcony, I saw something white on the ground. I stooped, and picked up a beautiful white plume, like those with which our young seigneurs adorn their hats. Then I remembered that Comte Léodgard had one of them on his hat, and I said to my friend, showing him the plume:

"'Look! here is something that our climber lost on the way. Thieves don't wear such plumes as this on their nocturnal expeditions; so this is some lovers' affair. Let us leave them in peace; go home to bed and stop trembling.'

"Thereupon I left Plumard at his door and went home."

"And the plume that you found?"

"I carried it home with me, and I still have it; it's a very fine one! too fine for me to wear it, with my modest clothes. But no one knows; if I should have a handsome cloak and rich doublet some day, and a velvet cap, why, the plume would go very well with all those things!"

Valentine seemed to reflect; she glanced at her aunt, who was sound asleep, then continued, taking care to speak in a low tone:

"Is that all you know concerning Monsieur Léodgard?"

"No, indeed! Oh! I have not emptied my bag yet, as my employer says. Mademoiselle must know that I have a relation who lives near Vincennes; he is a simple farmer; he has a little cottage with a sizable piece of land, where he grows vegetables and fruit, which he brings to Paris to sell. Thomas's cottage--Thomas is my kinsman's name--is in a very lonely spot, just this side of the village and château of Vincennes. Ah! how frightened Plumard would be there! so when I suggest to him to go to Thomas's with me, he always refuses; and yet, my relative has a very nice little wine.--But to come to my story: when you leave our quarter of the Cité, you have to cross Pont Saint-Louis, otherwise called the Pont-aux-Choux. And that is a very dangerous place, especially at this time, for it is the favorite resort of Giovanni, the robber whom I mentioned just now. I am confident that he has his lair in the neighborhood. About five days ago, no more, Thomas's ass was stolen on the Pont-aux-Choux; he did not see the robber, therefore it was Giovanni. Also, an old peasant woman of Vincennes was found murdered within fifty yards of that infernal bridge; that too was done by that damned brigand!"

"No, monsieur, no; that is not true!" cried Miretta. "Giovanni did not murder that woman! it is impossible!"

"And why is it impossible, I pray to know, young lady's-maid?" demanded Bahuchet, staring at the girl in amazement.

Miretta tried to dissemble her emotion as she replied:

"Why, because I have been assured--I have heard everybody say that Giovanni never sheds blood, that no one had ever been injured by him!"

"Really, my pretty child! And why do they not also say that when he pillages travellers, the brigand gives them sweetmeats and preserves to make up to them for the money he steals? What an absurd idea--that a man who attacks with arms in his hand does not use his arms when he is resisted! But there are people who delight to tell such foolish tales, and who pretend to know everything better than anybody else.--I would just like to have a hundred men, well armed; I would lie in ambush under the Pont-aux-Choux, and within a week I would have captured, hanged, or shot the famous Giovanni!"