Part 18

"Avenged! unhappy girl! Why, do you not know that I am a miserable, infamous wretch?--For that man has killed him! He has killed him! and I am the cause of it; it was I who gave him that assignation, who laid the snare for Léodgard, by making him believe that I loved him!--Yes, I did love him! I did not lie! I tried to deceive myself concerning my feelings; I tried to delude myself. I told myself that he had disdained me, that I should wreak vengeance upon him for his scorn. I told myself that! But in the bottom of my heart I always loved him. I wanted to see him at my feet, to hear him make sweet protestations of love. I saw him there, and I caused his death! I killed him!--Oh! I have a horror of myself! I am unworthy of pity! And I would give my life now to undo the evil I have done!"

Miretta seemed more surprised than moved by her mistress's despair. She contented herself with saying:

"So monsieur le marquis killed his opponent?"

"Yes; at least, he thinks so.--Ah! if, however---- Miretta, you are brave--you must go out, hasten to Place Royale, near Rue des Tournelles,--the place where I promised to meet him. Look carefully. If Léodgard is still there, ascertain whether he is breathing, and, in that case, knock at some shop door and implore help, and see that the count is taken to his house in Rue de Bretonvilliers.--See, here is money; do not spare it. With money one can always find people ready to do one's bidding.--Go, Miretta; you can go out when you choose now; the marquis has the most perfect confidence in you.--Go; find Léodgard, and do not leave him until you have stationed a doctor by his side.--And then return--return! I shall count the minutes."

Miretta did not seem overjoyed by the mission which was intrusted to her; but, being entirely devoted to her mistress, she did not murmur, and made haste to obey. Moreover, when she went out at night, a secret hope always awoke in the depths of the girl's heart, and would have given her courage if she had lacked it.

Miretta looked in vain for Léodgard on Place Royale; we know that the wounded man was no longer there. But a great pool of blood, in which her foot slipped, satisfied her that she had found the spot where the duel had taken place. Seeing no light anywhere, and having no hope of obtaining information at midnight, she returned to the Hôtel de Santoval, walking slowly, however, with her ears strained to detect the faintest sound, stopping from time to time when she thought that she heard footsteps, and entirely oblivious of the commission her mistress had given her.

Valentine meanwhile impatiently awaited her maid's return. She appeared at last, and informed the marchioness that the Comte de Marvejols was no longer on Place Royale.

"Some charitable person must have taken care of him," said Valentine; "and if he was able to speak, he has probably been taken to his own house. At daybreak, Miretta, you will hasten to Rue de Bretonvilliers, enter the count's house, ascertain whether he has been taken there, and inquire concerning his condition. At daybreak, do you understand?"

"I will obey you, madame."

And the next morning, almost before there was light enough to see, Miretta set about executing the orders she had received. But at the house in Rue de Bretonvilliers the count had not been seen since the preceding day, and no one knew what had become of him.

Valentine's torment increased with the ill success of the investigations which she caused to be made.

"But certainly that unfortunate man's body cannot have disappeared without having given rise to some talk!" cried the marchioness. "He was left for dead by his adversary on Place Royale, and that is where he must have been found. Go there again, Miretta, pass the whole day there if necessary; but do not return without bringing me some news of Léodgard."

Once more Miretta obeyed her mistress's orders; and after passing a large part of the day on Place Royale, she was about to return to the Hôtel de Santoval, when she happened to meet Ambroisine, to whose house she had not been for a very long time, but for whom she still cherished profound gratitude.

The two girls greeted each other with a smile, and the bath keeper's daughter said to Miretta:

"What has become of you, pray? I never see you!"

"I am still in the service of Mademoiselle Valentine, who is now Marquise de Santoval; and you?"

"I come almost every day to see my friend Bathilde, who is now Comtesse de Marvejols."

"Ah, yes! I remember; I have heard of that marriage."

"It is a most extraordinary story. But I have no time to talk at this moment. If you knew--last evening, the Sire de Jarnonville and I found Monsieur le Comte Léodgard lying on the ground yonder, under the arcade, bathed in his own blood; I ran to the house--which is close by--and they took the wounded man there.--He is very ill; however, there is still some hope perhaps.--Adieu! adieu! I must go back to Bathilde!"

Miretta had learned all that she wished to know, and she hastened to make her report to her mistress.

On learning that Léodgard was in the house occupied by his wife, Valentine had almost a paroxysm of rage; at last she fell exhausted on a chair, saying:

"With his wife! he is with her now! And this is what all my projects of revenge have resulted in--uniting him to this Bathilde! bringing about a reconciliation between them, perhaps! Oh, no! no! I will poison that woman's happiness.--Ah! I should regret it less now if Léodgard should die of his wound!"

But the marchioness's hopes were not gratified; we know that the count did not die of the sword thrust administered by the Marquis de Santoval.

When Valentine was once informed of the place where Léodgard was, she easily succeeded in obtaining news of him; and almost every day she sent Miretta to inquire in the neighborhood of the Hôtel de Marvejols concerning his condition. The servants, as they went in and out, never failed to give their neighbors news of their master, whom they believed to have been attacked on the street by brigands. So that Valentine knew that he was convalescent, and that he would soon be able to go out. She awaited that moment with impatience.

But the days passed, and Léodgard did not leave the Hôtel de Marvejols.

"He must be well content to be with his wife!" thought Valentine, far from suspecting that it was a child who detained Léodgard under the same roof with Bathilde. "I will wait no longer! for if I do, it will perhaps be too late to tear the count away from this new life."

The marchioness summoned Miretta and said to her:

"Léodgard is now cured, entirely recovered from his wound, I know; and yet he still remains with this Bathilde. But something tells me that I still have some power over the count's heart, and that a word from me would suffice to bring him back to my feet."

"What, madame! do you propose----"

"Hush, Miretta; you cannot understand what is taking place in my heart. I have but one thought now: to give myself to Léodgard, and to leave this Marquis de Santoval, whose mere presence is horrible to me.--Not a word! Do not try to combat my resolution--it is not to be shaken. Would not you have suffered everything, defied every danger, for your Giovanni? Would you not, to obey only him, have disobeyed the whole world?"

"Oh, yes! I would have done all that for Giovanni, madame; and I am ready to do it still!"

"Be not surprised to find in another woman a sentiment at least as imperious as that which you yourself know!"

"Ah! madame, I never would have sent Giovanni to fight with another man!"

"Poor fool! do you know what you would have done if you had seen your lover desert you for a rival?--But let us talk no more of the past! It is for the purpose of atoning for it that I wish to send a message to Léodgard. I wish it to be placed in his own hands. You cannot take charge of it, because you are known to that bath keeper's daughter, the noble countess's close friend; she would insist upon taking the letter, she might inform her friend, and then they would divine from whom you came."

"Oh, yes, madame! for I told her that I was still with you; and if monsieur le comte has admitted having fought a duel with monsieur le marquis, they would think, if I should carry a letter there, that another duel was in contemplation, and they would be quite capable of not giving it to the count."

"That is why I do not wish to intrust it to you. The little solicitor's clerk will do the errand perfectly. Go, Miretta, and find him. But he cannot come again to this house, where he was beaten. Make an appointment with him in some solitary, out-of-the-way place, and I will meet him there. Thank heaven! Monsieur de Santoval has ceased to be jealous since that duel. He leaves me entirely free. Go, then, find this Bahuchet, promise him money, much money; I know that he is not to be relied on without that."

Miretta lost no time in going to Maître Bourdinard's office; she knew the way very well.

But when she entered the dirty, smoke-begrimed room where Bahuchet and his friend usually sat, she was surprised to find new faces in the places of those which she was accustomed to see there.

"What do you wish, young woman?" asked an old fellow as yellow as parchment, as he saw the girl gazing around the room.

"I wish to see Monsieur Bahuchet."

"Master Bahuchet is not here."

"Oh! he has gone out; at what hour will he return, if you please?"

"He won't return at all, thank God! I say that he is not here, which means that Maître Bourdinard has dismissed him, discharged him, kicked him out, in short; and he well deserved it!"

"Oho!--But he had a friend, whom I do not see here!"

"Oh, yes! his friend Plumard; another fine subject--a worthy pendant to Bahuchet! Those fellows fought all day long, but they became reconciled at night in order to raise the devil all over the city. But when one of the master's clients, a certain Chevalier de Passedix, came here and told him the story of an orange-colored costume that those two scamps sold him, Maître Bourdinard's eyes were opened, and he turned the two little clerks out of doors--Plumard with Bahuchet, supporting each other!"

"In that case, monsieur, please give me this Monsieur Bahuchet's address, so that I may know where to find him; I must speak with him."

"His address, young woman--the address of a Bahuchet! Do you suppose such gentry have an address? Do they live anywhere? In wine shops and gambling hells and bawdy houses--that's where they live! But, frankly, I don't advise you to go there to look for him; and if the fellow owes you money, you will do well to make a cross on it."

Unable to obtain any information concerning him she sought, Miretta returned to report to her mistress the unsatisfactory result of her visit to the solicitor's office.

"More delay!" muttered Valentine, smiling bitterly; "one would say that destiny takes pleasure in multiplying obstacles to retard what I wish to do! But nothing will tire out my perseverance.--Miretta, you must find this Bahuchet; the fellow can have no reason for hiding, for he must now be in quest of another place. Search Paris for him; disguise yourself, if necessary; conceal your pretty face beneath an ample cap, and go to those dens which Monsieur Bahuchet frequents.--Who knows? while looking for him, perhaps you will find someone in whom you are interested."

Miretta shook her head, as if to say that she had ceased to hope; but she prepared, none the less, to obey the marchioness.

L

THE APPLE-GREEN CHEVALIER

It was eleven o'clock in the morning; the weather was dry and cold; the wind was from the north; and they who were obliged to go abroad on business walked rapidly, and sometimes took the risk of running, in order to return the sooner to their homes.

However, in that sharp atmosphere, which is not uncommon toward the end of December, two young men were crossing Pont-Neuf very slowly, noses in air, looking from side to side, stopping before the most trivial objects, scrutinizing with a curious eye even the dogs that passed, and which they sometimes seemed inclined to follow; in a word, these two individuals sauntered along like people with nothing better to do, albeit their garments were ill calculated to protect them from the inclement weather.

Their short-clothes, which were threadbare through long service, displayed here and there an occasional rent which had been awkwardly patched with material of a different color; their jackets, which took the place of doublets, were too long for them, lacked several buttons, and were worn through at the elbows; and lastly, the caps which covered their heads were entirely shapeless, and did not even conceal the tips of their ears.

In these two companions in idling and evil fortune the reader will already have recognized the two clerks whom Maître Bourdinard had dismissed from his employment.

"Do you know that it's terribly cold this morning, Bahuchet?"

"Pardieu! do I know it? I feel it quite as keenly as you; except on the head, however, as I have hair to protect me, whereas you--naught!--You must regret your plaster at this moment; you were wrong to take it off, Plumard, for it made a sort of little skullcap for you."

"Do you propose to begin your wretched jests again, Bahuchet? I give you warning that I am in no mood to put up with them!"

"Come, come! let us not quarrel, my dear fellow; that won't give us a breakfast, and that is what we must have. My stomach has a shockingly hollow ring, and fasting doesn't warm one's blood."

"No, indeed--far from it!"

"I thought that you would go to see your uncle the clothes dealer, Plumard. What the devil! if he should give you nothing but a cloak to carry you through the winter,--and that would be the least he could do for his nephew,--you might try to get a cloak large enough to make each of us one."

"I went to my uncle's this morning, while you were still asleep in that dram shop where we passed the night. But he received me so unkindly that I have no desire to go there again. He called me vagabond, good-for-nothing, robber--all on account of that miserable orange-colored suit that we consumed together, and for which he arrested that long-legged Chevalier Passedix!--Oh! he has that episode on his stomach!"

"What a fuss to make over a few faded duds! What's the use of having uncles if they let you freeze to death?"

"Holy forks! how hungry I am!"

"Rascally solicitor, to turn us into the street!"

"It's all the fault of that lanky, ill-built Gascon, who went to him and told him the story of the orange costume!"

"And all the offices are supplied with clerks--no place to be found!"

"If we could only find some other business!"

"It's all one to me; I would take anything that was open!"

"Even if it was a cook's place?"

"Pardieu! I would take it, I would turn cook with all my heart! Can you imagine a more alluring trade at this moment? To stand in front of a nice hot oven and smell the odor of a number of saucepans from which you always select the choicest bits?"

"Yes, I agree that that would be more agreeable than walking on Pont-Neuf in such weather as this! But as it isn't probable that we can find places even as scullions, I think that, in order to avoid starvation, we had best allow ourselves to be kidnapped by a sergeant in the king's service, and decide to serve our country as best we can!"

"What do you say, Plumard? Enlist--go into the army--carry a musket! Nay, nay! by all the devils, that is not my vocation! Though I should have to take another turn in my saddle girth and drink nothing but water, I propose to retain my liberty."

"Oh, well! don't be so disturbed, my poor Bahuchet! you won't be enlisted. Indeed, you know very well that, even if you wanted to go for a soldier, they wouldn't take you! you're too small! you haven't the build!"

Bahuchet bit his lips and elevated his nose, as he rejoined, with a mocking smile:

"If they don't want short men in the army, I fancy they don't care much about having bald-headed ones either."

"You are an ass, my boy; as a soldier never goes bareheaded, either in battle or on parade, he is entitled to have no hair if he pleases."

"You lie; it's part of the uniform; soldiers have their hair dressed--they wear pigtails."

"I have some hair at the back of my head, to make a pigtail if need be."

"Oh! that would be very pretty! a pigtail hanging from a pate as bald as one's knee!"

"It would be quite as pretty as a dwarf in uniform, whose sword dragged on the ground!"

"Plumard, I believe that you are pining for a drubbing!"

"No; but I am pining to administer one; that will warm me."

"Indeed!--Well, I don't choose to receive one.--Look you, dear boy, it is hunger that embitters our dispositions and makes us quarrelsome. The proverb is very true: when there's no hay in the manger, the donkeys fight."

"So you liken us to donkeys, eh?"

"Plumard, that proverb was made for men as well as for beasts.--Speaking of beasts, cast your eye on that little dog running along yonder; how clean and plump he is!"

"Are you inclined to eat that dog, I should like to know?"

"I' faith! in default of other viands, it might not be so bad. You, who had an idea of going for a soldier, ought to know that in a town beleaguered and besieged by the enemy they eat everything: dogs, cats, rats!--Indeed, an old archer told me that one time, when he was in a besieged place, he ate birds that had been stuffed and kept under glass several years."

"They must have made a sorry feast.--But the dog has stopped; if we could induce him to follow us, even if we had to use a little force, we could sell him to a dog fancier and get the wherewithal to gnaw a crust."

"You are right--come; let us act as if we did not see him. I will go ahead, you stay behind, and we will surround the cur."

The two clerks quickened their pace, walking in the direction of the dog they coveted, which had stopped to sniff a multitude of things. Bahuchet was very near him, and was trying to coax him by talking to him in an endearing tone; but just as he was about to put his hand on the animal's collar, a heavy, callous hand roughly pushed his away, and a hoarse voice exclaimed:

"Don't touch my dog, little jackanapes! He hasn't done anything to you--why do you put your hand on him?"

"Pardon me, monsieur," replied Bahuchet, bowing low to the dog's owner, a man of the people, with square shoulders and a face as rugged as his hands; "I had no intention to injure this pretty spaniel; but he is so handsome, so well trimmed, that I admired him and felt a desire to pat him--that is all!"

"Oh, yes! oh, yes! I've heard that before! They make believe to pat our dogs, and then, when no one is looking, they carry 'em off under their cloaks. Pont-Neuf is always crowded with a pack of pickpockets, sneak thieves, cutpurses!"

"Monsieur! I believe that you are insulting me! Do I look like a sneak thief? I couldn't put your dog under my cloak, because I have none."

"Why did you put your hand on him? You don't look as if you had any too much cash; go and have your elbows patched--that will be better than patting other people's dogs!"

The owner of the spaniel walked away with his animal, and Bahuchet returned with a crestfallen air to Plumard, who had deemed it prudent to stand aloof.

"Did you hear that clown, that clodhopper, that pig?--If I had not held myself in check, I should have gashed his face!"

"You did well to restrain yourself; that man would have made but one mouthful of you!--It's a shot that missed fire, that's all!"

"Yes, let us try to find something better. Bigre! how cold I am!"

"Fichtre! how hungry I am!"

The two comrades walked on, exploring Pont-Neuf with famished eyes. Suddenly Bahuchet stopped and uttered an exclamation of delight.

"It is he! it is certainly he!"

"Who, pray? do you see another dog?"

"I see someone who, unless we are fools, will pay for our breakfast, and perhaps even more than that."

"Who is it?"

"Look, over yonder! Do you see that long beanpole dressed in apple-green? Don't you recognize him?"

"Yes, indeed; it's our heir, the Chevalier de Passedix; but it seems to me that he has changed his color."

"Come, Plumard, come; imitate me, second me, talk as I do--and a new fortune will shine upon us!"

Thereupon little Bahuchet doubled the length of his strides, his comrade followed his example, and they soon stood in front of Passedix, who was strutting nonchalantly across Pont-Neuf, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see whether the women who passed admired his bearing and his attire, and casting upon the common herd patronizing glances which seemed to say:

"Stand aside! I am rich--you must make room for me; I require a great deal."

The Gascon chevalier was, in truth, in very comfortable case; six thousand livres at that period were equivalent to fifteen thousand in these times. Passedix, not being a gambler, did not find it easy to spend his income; for the women did not welcome his homage; moreover, his passion for Miretta still smoldered in the depths of his heart and prevented him from falling in love with other charmers. So that he could spend his money only at the table; and, despite his hearty appetite, he could not succeed in eating his whole income, especially as his stomach, as a result of overwork, began to show symptoms of sloth and to demand rest from time to time.

Passedix therefore seemed but little surprised when he saw two persons halt in front of him, bow to the ground, and remain in that humble posture, which prevented him from going forward.

"What is it? what is the matter? what do you want, little fellows?" queried the chevalier, caressing his chin with one hand and placing the other on his hip.

"Monsieur le Chevalier de Passedix, permit us to offer you our respects; we are so happy to have this honor! Does not monsieur le chevalier recognize us?"

"Sandis! how do you suppose that I can recognize you? you show me only your posteriors!--Rise, if you wish me to see your faces!"

Bahuchet and Plumard stood erect, the latter having decided to uncover his head.

"Ah! cadédis! now I recognize you, my knaves!--This is the little bald-head!--It was you who sold me the famous orange costume that you filched from the dealer in second-hand clothes!"

"He was my uncle, monsieur le chevalier--an old skinflint, who gave it to me and then accused me----"

"Oh! it matters little now; I have forgotten that trifle!--But you seem to me, both of you, to be in rather a sorry plight!"

"Alas! monsieur le chevalier, we are without employment. Maître Bourdinard--er--discharged us, on the pretext that we ate too much!"

"The idiot! I would like to be able to eat too much, myself; but for some time past my appetite has fallen off; it is becoming as whimsical as a woman."

"We are looking for places, monsieur le chevalier, and, i' faith! Plumard and I were strolling along Pont-Neuf, when some ladies, as they passed us, cried: 'Oh! see that handsome man over there, dressed all in apple-green! Just see, my dear, what a fine figure! how well he carries that elegant costume!'--Then we looked in the direction in which the ladies were looking, and on recognizing you, monsieur le chevalier, we were not surprised at the outburst of admiration from those bourgeoises."

Passedix's face fairly beamed with pleasure. He placed his hand on Bahuchet's shoulder, murmuring:

"Really! some ladies said that?"

"Yes, monsieur le chevalier;--isn't it so, Plumard?"

"It is the unadulterated truth; and there was one of them--the younger--who stopped and said in a faltering tone: 'Let us walk toward him!' but her companion, who was older, dragged her away, saying: 'No, no; I see that that cavalier has turned your head; come, you will do some foolish thing!'"

This time Passedix patted the second clerk's skull.