Part 6

"It is my son, the heir of my name, who has done all this!" murmured the marquis at last, speaking to himself, as if he had forgotten the girl's presence. "O mon Dieu! am I doomed always to find him culpable? Shall I owe to him nothing but subjects of grief, misery, and shame?--Yes, it was certainly his hand that traced these characters--indeed, he did not hesitate to sign the letter--to write a name that has always been honorable at the foot of these lines which contain naught but falsehood and perfidy! which have no purpose but to drag an innocent girl to the pit!--Ah! he is misplaced in the reign of a just and virtuous monarch! In the time of Henri III, in that age of license and libertinage, among the Maugirons and Schombergs and Saint-Mégrins and the rest of the king's _mignons_, he would have found his fitting place, and would have obtained the approbation and favors of a dissolute court for his conduct! But to-day, when a firm hand holds the reins of the State, when protecting laws restore the courage of the weak and make the criminal tremble, my son, the last descendant of the line of Marvejols, seems by his conduct to seek to gain for his name the scandalous celebrity courted by the favorites of Henri III! I cannot allow these disgraceful proceedings to be prolonged! no! Justice must be done before all! Honor takes precedence of nobility!"

And the old man, raising his head proudly, said to Ambroisine in a firm voice:

"Go back to your friend, my girl, and say to her that she will hear from me ere long."

Ambroisine would have been glad to know what she might hope for Bathilde, but a gesture from the marquis imposed silence on her; and she left the Hôtel de Marvejols, uncertain as yet whether she should congratulate herself on having gone thither.

XXXV

AN UNEXPECTED CHANGE

Although the old marquis had told Ambroisine to say to Bathilde that she would soon hear from him, the _belle baigneuse_ did not think it well to tell her of the visit she had made to the father of her friend's seducer. She was afraid of arousing vain hopes in her heart. To no one save the Sire de Jarnonville did she describe her interview with Léodgard's father. The Black Chevalier, who now took a deep interest in Bathilde, said to Ambroisine, when she finished her story:

"Justice will be done! Do not doubt it, brave girl. The old marquis will, first of all, make inquiries about your friend and her relations; he will wish to make sure, first of all, that you have not deceived him in any respect; and when he is certain that all you have told him is true, I repeat, he will see that justice is done."

"But what do you mean by justice, seigneur chevalier? Can he force his son to marry Bathilde?"

"No; and, frankly, I do not think that such is his intention. But if Léodgard has a right to refuse to contract a union which does not meet his views; if, being of full age, and his own master, he is at liberty to defy his father's desires or his will, his father, who is in very good favor with the cardinal-minister, has but a word to say to induce Richelieu to send Léodgard to the Bastille. As for his victim, I do not doubt that the old marquis will make her independent and take care of her child."

"Money to Bathilde! Her lover in prison!--Oh! that is not what I wanted! Bathilde will refuse the marquis's benefactions. She will blame herself for the punishment he inflicts on his son. And I shall be the cause of it all! Oh! I bitterly repent now that I went to the Hôtel de Marvejols--my poor friend will never forgive me!"

"What was your hope, pray, when you went to Léodgard's father to tell him everything?"

"Mon Dieu!--I cannot say.--In the first place, I wanted him to scold his son--but without sending him to the Bastille! And then, I thought that perhaps Monsieur Léodgard would be ashamed of his conduct, and would try to make up for everything by--by marrying Bathilde!"

"Marry a bath keeper's daughter!--he, the Comte de Marvejols?--Ah! that is just what you must never dream of hoping for!"

Ambroisine cast down her eyes, but a deep flush overspread her cheeks, and her voice thrilled with noble pride as she murmured:

"Ah! then the daughters of bath keepers are of very little account in your eyes, monsieur le chevalier, if you think that they may be dishonored with impunity."

Jarnonville raised his eyes and gazed earnestly at the girl for some time. Never before had he examined her so closely. He was impressed by her beauty, for at that moment the flush which suffused her face, the pride and the grief that could be read upon her brow, gave to all her features an expression which made them even more charming than usual.

The chevalier was surprised beyond measure; he had never noticed that Hugonnet's daughter was so beautiful, or that her person possessed so many charms; for the first time in many months a faint smile played about his lips, and he said at last:

"If the daughters of bath keepers were contemptible, you alone would suffice to rehabilitate them. You mistook the meaning of my words. Far from my mind be the thought that there exists a class which may be outraged with impunity! But, in conformity with the passions of mankind, there are prejudices, customs, conventional proprieties; also pride and vanity, which, though they do not commit sin, too often prevent its being atoned for.--But I say again, I had no intention of insulting you, noble-hearted, devoted, generous girl! You, who embody so perfectly all the marvellous tales we are told of the friendships of ancient times!--Come, give me your hand, let me press it in mine, as gallant men do when they are reconciled; and then I shall be quite certain that you no longer bear me any ill will."

The Sire de Jarnonville offered Ambroisine his hand. She seemed to hesitate, her face flushed vividly once more, but its expression was softer and more yielding. At last she made up her mind; slowly she put forth her plump white hand, and laid it, trembling, in the chevalier's. He pressed it as if it were the hand of a friend; but it is doubtful whether these two experienced at the contact the same sensations that two friends would have felt.

After a few seconds Jarnonville released Ambroisine's hand, and they parted, the former with a less sombre expression than usual, the _belle baigneuse_ reflecting upon what she had done for Bathilde, and perhaps also upon the grasp she had just exchanged with the Black Chevalier; for women have a meaning in all that they do, whereas a man often yields unreflectingly to a sudden impulse.

Six days had passed, and nothing had occurred to disturb the peaceful life that Bathilde was leading in her room at Master Hugonnet's. Ambroisine had not ventured to tell her of her visit to the old Marquis de Marvejols. But she was constantly preoccupied and anxious; at the least unexpected sound in the house, she ran to inquire if anyone had come. So that now it was Bathilde's turn to be surprised at her restlessness, and she insisted upon knowing its cause.

But Ambroisine confined herself to replying:

"Nothing is the matter! I assure you that nothing is the matter! But I was thinking--I am surprised that the Sire de Jarnonville has not been to our shop for several days, to ask me about you, as he has been accustomed to do for some time."

"Why, Ambroisine, he must have much else in his head! Why should he think so often of a poor girl whom he does not know?"

"Upon my word! I would like to see him forget you! After he promised to take care of your child--especially now that----"

"That what?"

"Why, that the time is approaching when you will be a mother.--Oh, no! he will not forget you. He is not like most of the young nobles of the court, I tell you! And as he doesn't come, there must be something to prevent; for he put his hand in mine; that means that he is my friend, that I may rely on him under all circumstances; and he is not the man to break his engagements."

Toward the close of that day, a servant in the Marquis de Marvejols's livery appeared at Master Hugonnet's shop, bearing two large letters sealed with the crest of that noble house.

Ambroisine, who was with her father at the moment, turned pale and began to tremble when the servant entered, for she instantly recognized the livery.

"Master Hugonnet, bath keeper?" said the man, addressing the master of the house.

"That is my name, monsieur; what do you wish?"

"I am instructed to hand you this letter from my master--Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols."

Hugonnet glanced at the letter that was presented to him; he hesitated about taking it, and said to the valet:

"Are you not making a mistake, monsieur; I have not the honor of knowing Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols, and----"

"Yes, father, yes, it is surely for you," interposed Ambroisine; "take it--take it, I say!"

"Ah! you are sure that there is no mistake?"

"Yes, yes; you will see.--And that other letter, monsieur?"

"It is for a certain Demoiselle Bathilde Landry, who lives with you. Will you have the kindness to hand it to her?"

"Yes, monsieur, oh, yes! I will take it to her at once."

"Then my errand is done."

And the valet went away, after bowing very respectfully to the bath keeper and his daughter.

"So you know what all this means, do you?" said Hugonnet, looking at his daughter with a surprised expression.

"Yes, father; I will explain it to you. But break this seal first, I entreat you, and see what he has written to you."

"Break the seal! that would be a pity! It is magnificent--just look!"

"But, father, seals are made to be broken. How else do you expect to know what anyone writes to you?--Break it! please break it!"

"Oh! how impatient you are!--Well! if I must----"

The seal was broken, and the bath keeper unfolded a large sheet of paper, on which he read:

"The Marquis de Marvejols requests Master Hugonnet, bath keeper, and his daughter Ambroisine to accompany Bathilde Landry to his house to-morrow.

"He will expect them at two o'clock in the afternoon, all other affairs being put aside."

"What does this mean?" said Hugonnet, glancing at his daughter.

"It means, father, that I went, all alone, to see the old Seigneur de Marvejols, that I told him the whole story of his son's treatment of Bathilde, giving him as proof of what I said a letter that Monsieur Léodgard once wrote to my friend; and that I demanded justice at his hands for the victim of the seduction.--That is what I did, father, without asking Bathilde's permission."

"Nor mine either, I believe?"

"That is true, father. Are you angry with me for doing it? Do you think that I did wrong?"

Hugonnet reflected a moment, then cried:

"I' faith! no! You did not do wrong. But you should have told me.--No matter; kiss me; you are a good girl, a true friend.--Well! we will go to the marquis's to-morrow, and we will see what he has to say. After all, he cannot make it out a crime in us to take a poor child in, who was without a home and without means."

"Oh! no, father! on the contrary, he thanked me for doing it."

"Go now, and take your friend her letter. It probably contains the same invitation as this one."

"Yes, father, I am going. But if you knew how excited I am! What will Bathilde say when she learns that I went to her seducer's father and told him everything?"

"Why, you are not afraid of her scolding you, are you? I have forgiven you."

"Oh! that is not the same thing."

"True; with me, you are always sure of being in the right. But you acted for Bathilde's good--and, above all, for her child's! Go--go; if the friend blames, the mother will pardon you!"

Ambroisine left her father and went to her friend's room, concealing beneath her neckerchief the marquis's second letter. She tried to assume an indifferent, cheerful air as she walked toward Bathilde; but the latter was not deceived, and after looking into Ambroisine's eyes for an instant she said, somewhat sharply:

"You have something to tell me, and you are afraid to speak; what makes you afraid? Cast out and cursed by my parents, abandoned by the man I loved, it seems to me that I can defy fate now. What more have I to dread?"

"It is true that I have something to tell you; but it is no new misfortune that threatens you--far from it!"

"What is it, then, and why do you hesitate to say what you have to say?"

Ambroisine took from her bosom the letter sealed with the marquis's crest, and handed it to Bathilde, saying in a faltering tone:

"Here--here is a letter that was just brought here for you."

"A letter!--Oh! it is from him; yes, nobody but he can have written to me. So he is still thinking of me--and you did not give it to me at once!"

Bathilde had already snatched the letter; she broke the seal, unfolded the sheet, and read:

"The Marquis de Marvejols requests Demoiselle Bathilde Landry to come to his house to-morrow, at two o'clock, accompanied by Master Hugonnet and his daughter Ambroisine."

"What does this mean?" murmured Bathilde, whom the reading of the letter had terrified beyond words. "It is his father, that old man, who does not know me, who writes me this!"

Thereupon Ambroisine sat down beside her friend, took one of her hands in hers, and in her softest voice confessed to her the course she had adopted in conferring with Léodgard's father.

Bathilde shuddered as she listened; and when her friend had finished, she said to her, weeping bitterly:

"I cannot scold you for what you did, for you hoped to put an end to my trials! And yet, if you had consulted me, I should have dissuaded you from this plan; for the result can only be to increase my misery, if the marquis punishes his son. He will hate me all the more intensely; he will be furiously angry with me, for he will think that it was I who asked you to tell his father all.--Ah! as if his desertion were not enough! Must I endure his hatred in addition?--The old Seigneur de Marvejols will take care of my child, you say. But suppose that, in order to keep a closer watch on the child, to give it an education worthy of the blood that will flow in its veins, it should occur to him to take it into his own house! Then I should be compelled to part with it--never to see it again, perhaps!--Oh! the mere thought turns my heart to ice! I, part with my child, my treasure, my hope, the only living thing that still attaches me to life!--Never! never! far better to die!"

"Who says that anyone thinks of separating you and your child?" cried Ambroisine, raising her head proudly. "Do you think that I would allow it? Oh! have no fear; if I did wrong to go to your seducer's father without consulting you, never fear, I will see to it that no misfortune comes to you on that account!--On the contrary, something tells me that you will not blame me long for having done so.--Courage, Bathilde, courage! the Marquis de Marvejols is a just and honorable man. Have confidence in him."

The next day, at noon, the large hall in the Hôtel de Marvejols was arranged as if for a solemn ceremonial. Chairs were placed in rows on each side. At one end a large table, covered with a velvet cloth with gold fringe, stood before three handsome armchairs, each provided with a sumptuous silken footstool. On the table were papers and writing materials.

Several valets in rich livery, among them old Hector, went in and out of the hall, making sure that everything was prepared in accordance with their master's orders.

As the clock struck two, one of the doors opened, and three persons were ushered into the hall. They were Bathilde, Ambroisine, and Master Hugonnet.

Bathilde, whose aspect was made even more interesting by her condition and her suffering expression, leaned on her friend's arm, trembling from head to foot, and seemed to lack courage to raise her eyes.

Ambroisine walked forward with a confident step, although, in the depths of her heart, she was intensely excited. Then came the master bath keeper, who entered the hall with a respectful demeanor, cap in hand, saluting all the servants and even the articles of furniture as he passed, because the magnificence of the hôtel made a profound impression upon him.

Old Hector stepped forward at once to meet the young women, and escorted them to one side of the hall, where he gave them seats, saying:

"Pray be seated; monsieur le marquis will come very soon. Pray be seated, and your companion also."

Bathilde and her friends had been in the hall hardly five minutes, afraid to do more than exchange a few words in whispers, when another door opened and the Marquis de Marvejols entered, accompanied by two gentlemen, one of whom, almost as old as the marquis, had a venerable, benevolent face which inspired respect and confidence; while the other, who was much younger, had a noble, severe expression, and a glance that seemed determined to read one's inmost heart.

"That is the marquis!" whispered Ambroisine to Bathilde; but she, instead of looking up, cast her eyes on the floor and felt as if she were about to swoon.

She rose, however, on the entrance of the three gentlemen, as did her friend and Master Hugonnet. The new-comers bowed graciously to the persons who were in the hall before them; and the marquis, walking forward alone toward Ambroisine, said to her, looking at Bathilde:

"This is your friend?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

Bathilde tottered; fear and excitement made her heart beat furiously. But, despite her prostration and her extreme pallor, her beautiful and refined features were still fascinating, and the old man seemed impressed by the sweetness and charm of her face.

He gazed at her a few seconds in silence, then placed his hand on the girl's arm and said:

"Do not tremble, my child; calm your emotion; you are not here as an accused person."

With that, the marquis returned to the two gentlemen who had come with him, and they all took their seats in the armchairs at the end of the hall.

In a moment a man clad in the black costume then worn by men of the law took his place in front of the table, on which papers and parchments were strewn.

Old Hector appeared at one of the doors and made a slight motion with his head to his master, who said:

"You may admit him now."

Hector left the hall by the door through which Bathilde and her friends had entered; a few moments later, a man appeared at that door; he was pale and his emotion was apparent, but his glance was stern. He had donned his old uniform, which he had ceased to wear except on solemn occasions. He carried his head erect, and his step was firm as he walked into the hall without turning his eyes in the direction of Bathilde, who shuddered at sight of him, and hid her face against Ambroisine's bosom, murmuring:

"My father! it is my father!"

It was, in fact, the old trooper of Henri IV who had passed within a few feet of his daughter. He walked toward the marquis, and said to him in a tone in which, although perfectly respectful, there was a slight tinge of bitterness:

"Seigneur, you request me to come to your house; you inform me that you will make known to me the seducer of my--of her who was once my daughter; you might well be certain that I would not decline that invitation; but permit me to say that I did not suppose that this information would be given before so many witnesses; I did not think that it was necessary that my shame should be so public!"

"Master Landry, do not accuse us before you know what we propose to do," replied the Marquis de Marvejols; "we know that you are a most honorable man; the fact that you served under King Henri honors you in our eyes no less than the most ancient quarterings of nobility on your arms could do; you cannot believe, therefore, that in requesting you to come before us our purpose was to humiliate you. On the contrary, we propose that justice shall be done you; and if your shame has been public, the reparation shall be equally public.--Be kind enough to take a seat--on this side."

The marquis pointed to the side opposite that where Landry's daughter was seated; and the old soldier, whose features had softened somewhat as he listened to the words of the Seigneur de Marvejols, seated himself on a bench, caressing his grizzled moustache, but taking pains not to look toward Bathilde.

She had been hardly able to control herself since she had been in her father's presence.

"He does not deign even to cast a glance at me!" she whispered to her friend.

"Because he is afraid of breaking down. He knows very well that you are here! If he saw you so pale and distressed, do you suppose that he could continue to be angry?--Wait, and hope."

The sound of a curtain drawn noisily back, and of spurs jangling loudly on the floor, attracted the attention of the two girls. A new personage had entered the hall; he made his appearance there as a master; and his manner was proud and arrogant as he strode toward the old marquis, passing disdainfully before the persons assembled there.

Bathilde instantly recognized Léodgard; she pressed Ambroisine's hand, murmuring:

"It is he! O mon Dieu! what is going to happen?"

"You wrote to me to come to you, seigneur, with respect to a matter which concerns the honor of our family, you say," said Léodgard, halting in front of his father; "but what is the meaning of such an assemblage as this? Are you about to sit in judgment? Have you sent for me to come here as an accused person?"

"Perhaps," replied the old marquis, in a solemn voice, fastening his eyes upon his son with a look which compelled him to turn his away.

But Léodgard, looking at the persons who surrounded him, speedily recognized them all. At sight of Bathilde he turned pale, and could not master his confusion; but when he recognized Landry, an expression of annoyance, of anger, appeared on his face, and he waited, quivering with impatience, to hear what was wanted of him.

"Comte de Marvejols," said the old marquis, "when a sin--I might say, a crime--has covered an old man's brow with shame and brought despair into a family, reparation should not be made in darkness and secrecy. Therefore I have requested Monsieur le Duc de Montaulac and Monsieur le Baron de Freilly to be kind enough to assist me with their presence to-day; for, in the presence of such gentlemen, one must do his duty or be adjudged unworthy to wear a sword."

"I do not understand you, seigneur," rejoined Léodgard, while his features assumed an arrogant and scornful expression. "If anyone here considers that I am unworthy to wear a sword, let him come forward and tell me so, and I will show him how I handle it."

"Honor, monsieur, does not consist simply in being able to fight with skill; if it were so, bandits, highwaymen, cutthroats, would all be men of honor, and would be rewarded rather than punished.--But a truce to discussion.--Comte Léodgard, cast your eye upon this young woman who is here, by your side,--upon this old soldier, who has never been recreant to honor, and who no longer dares to look upon his child, because she has brought the flush of shame to his brow--those are your two victims."

"What! he is the man! he! the mise----"

And Landry, leaving his sentence unfinished, put his hand to the hilt of his sabre. But a glance from the old marquis recalled him to himself; he restrained his passion and confined himself to glaring at the young man in a fashion which was sufficiently indicative of what he proposed to do.

The marquis resumed, still addressing his son:

"You seduced Bathilde, Landry's daughter; you deceived a young girl, innocent until then. She put faith in your promises and your oaths. And after ruining her, you abandoned her in the most dastardly manner when she was cursed and cast out by her parents!--Comte Léodgard, was it because you belong to an illustrious house, because you bear a noble name, that you deemed yourself entitled to bring misfortune and infamy upon a family of lower rank, a family which had as its possessions only honor?--Answer me!"