Part 20

"As much money as I ask!--By Mercury! pretty lady's-maid, this deserves consideration!--Moreover, I am too gallant to refuse to hold an interview with your mistress, whom I know to be as generous as she is beautiful.--Faith! so much the worse for my new master; I will tell him that the spots stuck like the devil; I can always find some fable to tell him.--Let us be off."

"Choose the place where you will await my mistress."

"Let me see; I must try to think of a place where there are not too many passers, so that we may talk undisturbed. Yes; I have what we want--on Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, I know a place where there have been no houses built as yet; there is a hollow there, where one can talk as comfortably as in one's own house; and it is not far from madame la marquise's hôtel."

"Let us make haste, then."

Bahuchet and Miretta doubled their pace. The sometime clerk knew his Paris perfectly, and the streets one could take to lessen the distance. In a short time they reached Rue des Francs-Bourgeois. The little man stopped at a vacant lot, where building materials had been dropped.

"This is the place; it is very convenient for a private conversation, you see."

"It is well. Remain here, while I go to fetch my mistress."

"She will not be long?"

"I promise you that she will be here within half an hour."

"Very good! Above all things, do not let her bring one of her tall lackeys with her! If I see one of them in the distance, off I go, and I give you my word that you will not catch me!"

"Do you think that my mistress is setting a trap for you, Monsieur Bahuchet?"

"No, pretty brunette, I certainly do not think that; but, look you, when one has been thrashed as I was, one may well retain some apprehension."

"Fie! a man, and afraid! At least, you should not admit it. I am only a woman, but I have never known what fear is!--Stay here, Monsieur Bahuchet, and fear nothing; you will be handsomely paid."

Miretta fled with the swiftness of a deer; and Bahuchet seated himself on a stone, saying to himself:

"That girl is well fitted to enter one of these new companies of mousquetaires which are said to be forming; I am sure that she would march into fire without a tremor.--After all, I have no occasion for fear; although there are very few passers on this street, still there are some. I myself chose the place of rendezvous.--So the fair Valentine is still in love with the handsome Comte Léodgard! Hum! these women! when a passion has taken firm root in their heart, all the obstacles they encounter simply whet their appetite.--And that man who is waiting for me in his bathtub? Faith! let him wait! he will be all the cleaner for it! Besides, Plumard is with him; he will tell him lies to keep him patient. But money--all the money I want! That I know is a way of speaking; but still, the fair marchioness is generous--generous and amorous; and she flings her money away freely!"

Bahuchet had not been at his post twenty-five minutes, when he spied two women at the end of the street; one of them, enveloped in a cloak, and with her head covered by a thick veil, glanced occasionally to the right and left. They were the marchioness and her confidante. About fifty yards from Bahuchet, Valentine told Miretta to stop, and went forward alone toward the little ex-Basochian, who bowed low in the distance.

"Here I am, Monsieur Bahuchet; I have not kept you waiting too long, I hope?"

"No, madame. Oh! I knew that with madame la marquise I should not lose my time."

"Do not waste it in empty words. Will you undertake to carry this letter to the Comte de Marvejols?"

"With great pleasure, madame."

"Here it is; accept at the same time this purse, and my promise to give you twice as much as it contains if you bring me a reply from the count--a line written by him."

Bahuchet could hardly hold in his hand the purse that Valentine placed there, it was stuffed so full of gold pieces to its very mouth. He was dazzled; he gazed at the purse in respectful admiration; and when he heard the marchioness promise him twice as much more, his devotion could contain itself no longer, and he cried:

"You shall have a reply from monsieur le comte, madame! You shall have it, even if I have to write it myself!--No, not that; my zeal carries me away; I do not know what I am saying!--But, once more, madame, the count shall send you a reply; I will make it my business."

"You will take this letter to him at once?"

"Yes, madame. Oh! on the instant.--The other man may keep on bathing; I don't care a fig for that!"

"Do you know where the count is now?"

"At his little hôtel in Rue de Bretonvilliers, I presume?"

"No; he is at present at the Hôtel de Marvejols, on Place Royale."

"Very good; I fly thither----"

"One moment! Léodgard is under the same roof with--his wife; you will understand that you must give this letter into his own hands. Do not intrust it to any other person. Ask to speak with the count in private; see to it that there is no one with him when he reads my letter."

"I understand, madame, I understand. Never fear! I see that mystery is necessary; I will act with all prudence."

"Do not say, when you present yourself at the house, that you come from me; in that case, you would not be allowed access to Léodgard!"

"I am not so stupid!--By the way, madame; this reply which, I make no doubt, the count will give me--where shall I deliver it to you?"

"Come here again this evening, at nine o'clock; you will find Miretta here--she will await your coming."

"Very good! And Miretta will--will hand me what madame la marquise is generous enough to promise me?"

"I always fulfil my promises, monsieur."

"Then I will go at once to Place Royale."

"And at nine o'clock this evening----"

"I will return here."

The marchioness joined Miretta and walked rapidly away with her, while little Bahuchet, after fondling for a moment the purse filled with gold, thrust it into his belt, and hastened away toward Place Royale.

And while all these things were happening, the Chevalier de Passedix, clad only in shirt, ruff, and funnel-shaped boots, paced the floor of his bathroom, stamping angrily and muttering:

"Knave of a page! blackguard of an esquire! Where on earth are they? What has become of them? Cadédis! if this is the way those villains serve me, I will kick them out of my employ at the earliest possible moment!--But I shall not have the trouble of doing it if they do not return. Miserable knaves! they have robbed me again! They shall have a taste of Roland!--Woe to them if I ever fall in with them!"

And in his rage Passedix seized his sword, drew it from the scabbard, and threatened everything within his reach; which performance caused the bath attendant, who had remained in one corner of the room, to shudder with fear. At last, losing patience, and feeling extremely cold, Passedix halted in front of him and said:

"We must make an end of this! Come, varlet, take off your short-clothes instantly! be quick about it!"

"Take off my short-clothes! What for?"

"Sandis! so that I may put them on, of course! I can't stand here all day in my shirt!"

"But I have no others, monsieur; and if you take mine, then I shall be in my shirt."

"That makes no difference to me--a terrible calamity, truly, that you should be a little cool in your turn!"

"No, no! I won't give you my short-clothes!"

"Give them to me this instant, knave, and your miserable doublet too, or I'll run you through with Roland!"

Passedix made such a terrible face, and held the point of his sword so near the poor fellow's breast, that he, trembling for his life, quickly removed his doublet and his breeches. The chevalier lost no time in donning them, saying to himself:

"I shall be a horrible-looking creature in this costume! but, after all, it is preferable to being naked!--Now, I will conceal it as well as I can with my cloak.--Come, don't cry, you fool! Do you imagine that I propose to steal your clothes? They will be returned to you as soon as I have been home and have dressed myself in orange, pending the purchase of a lovely costume, new throughout. I shall select a sky-blue this time!--If my people return, you will say to them that I shall expect them at the Hôtel du Sanglier, Place aux Chats; but I begin to doubt whether they will return--the vagabonds!"

And Passedix, having finished his toilet to the best of his ability, left the bathing establishment, grumbling between his teeth:

"These breeches are horribly unbecoming to me!--O my esquire! O my page! you shall pay me for all this!"

LII

THE LITTLE ANGEL

Léodgard had recovered his health; he was entirely cured; still, he had not left the abode of his ancestors. More than once he had formed the plan of returning to his _petite maison_ in Rue de Bretonvilliers; but whenever he had that idea, little Blanche was not with him. As soon as his daughter appeared, as soon as she came running into the room, smiling and holding out her little arms to him, all thought of going away was forgotten; the time passed so quickly with the child, and so pleasantly!

Blanche remained with her father almost all day; Bathilde deprived herself of the pleasure of having her child with her, because she felt that Blanche's presence alone detained Léodgard at the Hôtel de Marvejols. But when the little one had been away from her mother several hours in succession, she always asked to see her; for, in that loving heart, the love that she felt for the count in no wise diminished her affection for her mother.

And one day, when Blanche, having remained longer than usual with Léodgard, asked to go back to her mother, and he, holding her in his arms, would have kept her longer, the child suddenly said to him:

"Well! send for mamma to come here; then I will not ask to go away, because I shall be with both of you."

To this very natural suggestion the count made no reply; he simply cast down his eyes and sighed; but Blanche at once continued:

"Why doesn't mamma ever come here with me? When I ask her to, she always says: 'That would annoy monsieur le comte.'--Are you _monsieur le comte_?"

"To be sure," Léodgard replied, with a smile.

"Well! don't you want to have mamma come? Has she been naughty?"

Léodgard did not quite know what to say; children always go straight to the point with their questions, and often embarrass the persons to whom they propound them, because grown people are unable to answer as frankly as they are questioned.

But at that moment Bathilde, being anxious about her daughter, who did not usually remain so long in her father's apartment, drew the portière aside and stopped timidly in the doorway.

"Excuse me, monsieur le comte," she said, "for coming here unsummoned. But my daughter did not return, and I was afraid that she was not well."

Léodgard looked up at Bathilde. For the first time since she had been his wife, he observed her with attention; he was surprised at the changes for the better that had taken place in her whole person. On becoming a countess, the bath keeper's daughter had undergone a transformation. Endowed by nature with angelic beauty, she possessed now, in addition, grace, distinction, and refinement; she fascinated by her mere presence; one felt drawn toward her; and having no suspicion of her power, Bathilde augmented it by the charm of her smile and the sweet quality of her voice.

One would have said that Léodgard remarked all this as if he had never before looked at his wife; and Bathilde, who had not seen the count scrutinize her with so much interest for a long time, felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as if beneath the flame of a lover's glance. But in her eyes her husband was still the most beloved of lovers; she did not know which way to turn; yet she was happy, very happy; she began to hope that Léodgard might love her once more.

Blanche jumped down from her father's knee and ran to her mother.

"I wanted to come to see you," she said; "but papa didn't want to let me go. Now you are here, and Blanche is very glad! After this, you'll come here with me, won't you?"

Bathilde looked at her daughter and did not reply.

But Léodgard bent his head before his young wife, and said in a gracious tone:

"When you choose to come here, madame, you will always be welcome."

"You are too kind, monsieur le comte," faltered Bathilde, who felt that sobs would soon stifle her voice, and who longed, but did not yet dare, to throw herself into her husband's arms. She hastily led her daughter from the room and returned to her own apartment. There she took Blanche in her arms, strained her to her heart, and bathed her with her tears.

"You crying, mamma?" said Blanche.

"Oh! it is with pleasure, with happiness this time, my darling; and this happiness too I owe to you!"

On the day following this scene, about four in the afternoon, a servant entered the apartment of Léodgard, who had his daughter on his knee, and informed his master that a young man had called, saying that he was charged with a message for the Comte de Marvejols and that he desired to be admitted to his presence.

"What is the man's name?" inquired Léodgard.

"He refuses to give it, monsieur le comte; he desires to speak with you alone."

"Admit him."

In a few moments Bahuchet bowed to the floor before the count.

On recognizing the little clerk, his messenger to Valentine, Léodgard was conscious of a thrill of emotion; memories of the past awoke in his heart; and he put Blanche on the floor, saying:

"Go, my child, go to your mother; you may come back to me later."

"Yes, papa!--Oh! what an awfully ugly man!"

And the little girl left the room, taking care to avoid Bahuchet, whose presence seemed almost to terrify her.

"So it is you, messenger of disaster!" said Léodgard, when he and the little clerk were alone; "why have you come here? I did not send for you, I no longer require your services. Tell me--what do you want? Speak!"

"Deign to excuse me for coming, monseigneur; you will understand that it is only because I was requested, even implored, to do so."

"By whom?"

"Does not monsieur le comte divine? By Madame la Marquise de Santoval."

"That woman again! What! after causing me to fight with her husband! after turning me to ridicule so abominably! she dares again---- Well! what does she want with me?"

"This letter will tell you, monseigneur, I do not doubt."

"A letter from her! Ah! this is too much!--Let us see; I am curious to know what she can have to write to me."

Léodgard took the letter, and Bahuchet discreetly withdrew to the other end of the room.

Having hastily broken the seal, Léodgard read these words, written by Valentine:

"You have showered the most terrible epithets upon me, doubtless; I deserve them; I made a mock of you, it is true; but do you, in your turn, recall your conduct: I was to have been your wife, you preferred a bath keeper's daughter to me! I determined to be revenged, because I loved you in secret, because that love made even deeper the wound you had inflicted on me. I married the Marquis de Santoval, whom I did not love; but I knew his temperament, and I desired an avenger. Since that duel, in which he narrowly missed killing you, I have been unable to endure the marquis's presence; I can live with that man no longer--he is hateful to me.--Léodgard, you know every part of my conduct; if you had died of your wound, I should have killed myself in order not to survive you; for I love you still. Tell me that you forgive me, tell me that you will take me away from the Marquis de Santoval. I wish to see you, to speak with you. In pity's name, write me a few words in reply, and appoint a rendezvous for to-morrow, though it be but for a few minutes; do not refuse me!

"VALENTINE."

The perusal of this letter threw Léodgard's mind into confusion; dark clouds gathered on his brow, where something like tranquillity had reigned of late. He rose and paced the floor, in the most intense agitation; it was evident that a battle was raging in the depths of his heart. He read Valentine's letter once more, then seemed to be lost in thought.

"I was led to hope," murmured Bahuchet at last, in a wheedling tone, "that monsieur le comte would give me a word in reply. The lady even went so far as to make me promise not to return without one.--Poor lady! she was so pale, so agitated, so interesting!"

"So you saw her, did you?"

"Yes, monsieur le comte. Her maid, Miretta, had been searching Paris for me for a long time; after asking for me in vain at that miserly solicitor's, who turned me out of doors, with Plumard, for a mere nothing! a trifle!"

"Where did you see the marchioness?"

"On Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, in a little nook I selected. Oh! the lady didn't keep me waiting.--Will monsieur le comte refuse to give me a few words, in his hand? Poor lady! she will do some insane thing, if I do not take her an answer."

"Yes, I am going to write to her.--Ah! so this lady loves me!--Pardieu! I must make sure of that. But woe to her if she deceives me again!"

"I venture to assure monsieur le comte----"

"Hold your peace and let me write."

Léodgard seated himself at his desk and hastily wrote these lines:

"You wish to see me, madame la marquise; you love me, so you say! Although I have difficulty in placing faith in a love which nearly cost me my life, I am too gallant and too brave to decline this new rendezvous, even if I were destined again to find a sword awaiting me instead of a smile.--Until to-morrow, then, at eight in the evening, in the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs."

Léodgard signed this letter and handed it to Bahuchet, who, overjoyed to have obtained a written reply, took a hasty leave, fearing that the count might be tempted to recall the letter he had given him.

When Léodgard was alone, he fell once more into a moody reverie; absorbed by his memories and his new projects, he seemed to have forgotten the present, to have forgotten where he was. In fact, he did not hear Blanche, who returned to the room and stood in front of him for several minutes, amazed that he said nothing to her.

"Papa--I am here--don't you see me?" she murmured at last.

At the sound of Blanche's voice, Léodgard started, almost as if in terror; he gazed at his daughter, but did not smile at her as usual; it seemed that the sight of the child embarrassed him. And little Blanche, accustomed as she was to be kissed and caressed by her father, looked at him with a surprised expression, and said, after a pause:

"Why don't you kiss me to-night, papa? Have I been naughty?"

"No, no; you are not naughty, Blanche; but I was thinking; my mind was on other things."

"Papa, mamma told me to ask you if you would like to have her come here after me to-night; she would like to ever so much; do you want her to?"

"No, no; that cannot be, to-night; another time you may come with your mother; but to-night I must be alone."

And the count rang for a servant and said to him:

"Take my daughter to her mother."

"You send me away so soon, papa!" said Blanche, with a little pout that made her even more bewitching; "why, I haven't had time enough to kiss you; I don't want to go yet!"

"You must obey me, Blanche; I wish it!"

Léodgard said these words in a stern tone, which brought tears to the little angel's eyes, for she was not accustomed to be spoken to so. She took the servant's hand and was about to leave the room, glancing mournfully at her father. But that glance went to Léodgard's heart; he ran to his daughter, took her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, murmuring:

"I will come back, dear child; yes, you shall see me again."

When the servant had taken Blanche away, the count dressed to go out, buckled on his sword, took his cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and left his apartment, saying to himself:

"Now, I must leave this place and return to my little house in Rue de Bretonvilliers. I should not be free here; and the sight of that child would weaken my resolution.--Dear little darling! with her I had found peace once more; my remorse was almost banished.--Ah! I do wrong to leave her, perhaps; but that letter from Valentine has overwhelmed all my senses; the memory of her beauty--this love that she swears that she has for me--well! the die is cast; I must see that woman again!"

And the count, avoiding the apartments occupied by Bathilde, left the Hôtel de Marvejols with a heavy heart, like a person who submits to fatality.

LIII

DIVINE JUSTICE

The next evening, about eight o'clock, the Comte de Marvejols entered the public promenade called the Pré-aux-Clercs; it was an extensive meadow, divided into two parts by a canal called the Petite-Seine, which started from the river to carry water to fill the moats of the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés. At that time some buildings had already been erected on the small Pré-aux-Clercs, and preparations were being made for building on the larger tract, where Rues des Petits-Augustins, de Verneuil, de l'Université, des Saints-Pères, etc., were subsequently laid out.

But the works in progress on the Pré-aux-Clercs still left ample space for walking and for rendezvous; so that spot was a favorite one for duellists and for lovers.

It was quite dark, and Léodgard had not taken a hundred steps on the Grand Pré-aux-Clercs, when a woman stopped before him. Valentine was dressed entirely in black, and her excitement, the pallor of her face, the thrill that ran through her body at sight of the count, seemed to enhance her majestic beauty.

Without a word, she offered her hand to Léodgard, who felt it tremble as he took it in his.

"Come," said Valentine, in a broken voice, "let us sit on this bench. Miretta is watching close by, and we may talk without fear.--Oh! I was still afraid that you would not come, that you had changed your mind; but you believed what I wrote in my letter, did you not? Yes, you must have believed it, as you are here. And now, tell me if you have forgiven me."

As she spoke, Valentine fixed upon Léodgard her lovely black eyes, overflowing with love and fear. Thereupon the passion that that woman had previously kindled in the count's heart broke forth into flame, more ardent, more impetuous, more powerful than ever; and he could only fall at her feet, crying:

"Forgive you! And you tell me that you love me--you confess that only the passion that you felt for me inspired the wish to be revenged!--Ah! am I not too happy to be so loved by you? If I had met the death that I deserved, my fate would have been an enviable one. It is for me, who refused the happiness that was offered me, to implore your forgiveness!"

"Let us not revert to the past.--Léodgard, as I have told you, I love you; and now I can no longer endure the presence of the Marquis de Santoval! If you share my love, I will be yours, but yours alone. Valentine de Mongarcin will never stoop to deceive a man! She will leave that man forever; for, once yours, she will die rather than return to him!--You have heard me, Léodgard. Take me to some other country, beneath a different sky; whither, it matters not to me, provided that I am with you, that I may fly from a man whom I detest, that I may live for you alone, with you alone!--But until then I will not be your mistress; for, I say again, when I have been once in your arms, I will never return to the Marquis de Santoval."

The thought of abducting Valentine, of taking her away from her husband, made Léodgard's heart beat fast; he could no longer doubt the love of that woman, who offered to sacrifice her reputation, her honor, her exalted position in society, to be his; and she was so lovely, so young, so fascinating, she promised such a wealth of tenderness and rapture, that the count looked forward with ecstatic delight to the moment when that prospect of love and bliss would become a reality.