Chapter 6

But alas! there was a fatal reaction awaiting me. Glancing across the room I intercepted the tender looks of two lovers, looks of mutual love that brought me back to my own misery, and made my heart bleed afresh at the thought that love like this might have been mine! What is more touchingly beautiful than the sight of a betrothed couple who exist in a little world of their own, and, ignoring the indifferent crowd around them, gaze at each other with such a wealth of love and trust in the future! I brought this image of a promised but lost happiness home with me. Oh! if I could blame Irene I would console myself by flying in a fit of legitimate anger! but this resource fails me--I can blame no one but myself. Irene knows not how dear she is to me, I only half told her of my love,--I flattered myself that I had a long future in which to prove my devotion by deeds instead of words. Had she known how deeply I loved her, she never could have deserted me.

Your unhappy friend, ROGER DE MONBERT.

VI.

EDGAR DE MEILHAN _to the_ PRINCE DE MONBERT, St. Dominique Street (Paris).

Richeport, May 26th 18--.

Dear Roger:--You have understood me. I did not wish to annoy you with hackneyed condolences or sing with you an elegiac duet; but I have not the less sympathized with your sorrows; I have even evolved a system out of them. Were I forsaken, I should deplore the blindness of the unfortunate creature who could renounce the happiness of possessing me, and congratulate myself upon getting rid of a heart unworthy of me. Besides, I have always felt grateful to those benevolent beauties who take upon themselves the disagreeable task of breaking off an engagement. At first, there is a slight feeling of wounded self-love, but as I have for some time concluded that the world contains an infinity of beings endowed with charms superior to mine, it only lasts a moment, and if the scratch bleed a little, I consider myself indemnified by a tirade against woman's bad taste. Since you do not possess this philosophy, Mlle. de Chateaudun must be found, at any cost; you know my principles: I have a profound respect for any genuine passion. We will not discuss the merits or the faults of Irene; you desire her, that suffices; you shall have her, or I will lose the little Malay I learnt in Java when I went to see those dancing-girls, whose preference has such a disastrous effect upon Europeans. Your secret police is about to be increased by a new spy; I espouse your anger, and place myself entirely at the service of your wrath. I know some of the relatives of Mlle. de Chateaudun, who has connections in the neighboring departments, and in your behalf I have beaten about the châteaux for many miles around. I have not yet found what I am searching for; but I have discovered in the dullest houses a number of pretty faces who would ask nothing better, dear Roger, than to console you, that is if you are not, like Rachel, refusing to be comforted; for if there be no lack of women always ready to decoy a successful lover, some can, also, be found disposed to undertake the cure of a profound despair; these are the services which the best friends cheerfully render. I will only permit myself to ask you one question. Are you sure, before abandoning yourself to the violence of an invisible grief, that Mlle. de Chateaudun has ever existed? If she exists, she cannot have evaporated! The diamond alone ascends entire to heaven and disappears, leaving no trace behind. One cannot abstract himself, in this way, like a quintessence from a civilized centre; in 18--the suppression of any human being seems to me impossible. Mademoiselle Irene has been too well brought up to throw herself into the water like a grisette; if she had done so, the zephyrs would have borne ashore her cloak or her umbrella; a woman's bonnet, when it comes from Beaudrand, always floats. Perhaps she wishes to subject you to some romantic ordeal to see if you are capable of dying of grief for her; do not gratify her so far. Double your serenity and coolness, and, if need be, paint like a dowager; it is necessary to sustain before these affected dames the dignity of the uglier sex of which we have the honor of forming a part. I approve the position you have taken. The Pale Faces should bear moral torture with the same impassiveness with which the Red Skins endure physical torture.

Roaming about in your interests, I had the beginning of an adventure which I must recount to you. It does not relate to a duchess, I warn you; I leave those sort of freaks to republicans. In love-making, I value beauty solely, it is the only aristocracy I look for; pretty women are baronesses, charming ones countesses; beauties become marchionesses, and I recognise a queen by her hands and not by her sceptre, by her brow and not by her crown. Such is my habit. Beyond this I am without prejudice; I do not disdain princesses provided they are as handsome as simple peasants.

I had a presentiment that Alfred intended paying me a visit, and with that wonderful acuteness which characterizes me, I said to myself: If he comes here, hospitality will force me to endure the agony of his presence as long as he pleases to impose it upon me, a torture forgotten in Dante's Hell; if I go to see him the situation is reversed. I can leave under the first indispensable pretext, that will not fail to offer itself, three days after my arrival, and I thus deprive him of all motive for invading my wigwam at Richeport. Whereupon I went to Nantes, where his relatives reside, with whom he is passing the summer.

At the expiration of four hours I suddenly remembered that most urgent business recalled me to my mother; but what was my anguish, when I saw my execrable friend accompany me to the railroad station, in a traveling suit, a cap on his head, a valise under his arm! Happily, he was going to Havre by way of Rouen, and I was relieved from all fear of invasion.

At this juncture, my dear friend, endeavor to tear yourself away, for a moment, from the contemplation of your grief, and take some interest in my story. To so distinguished a person as yourself it has at least the advantage of beginning in an entirely homely and prosaic manner. I should never have committed the error of writing you anything extraordinary; you are surfeited with the incredible; the supernatural is a twice-told tale; between you and the marvellous secret affinities exist; miracles hunt you up; you find yourself in conjunction with phenomena; what never happens has happened to you; and in the world that you, in every sense, have wandered o'er, no novelty offers itself but the common-place.

The first time you ever attempted to do anything like other people--to marry--you failed. Your only talent is for the impossible; therefore, I hope that my recital, a little after the style of Paul de Kock's romances, an author admired by great ladies and kitchen girls, will give you infinite surprise and possess all the attraction and freshness of the unknown.

There were already two persons in the compartment into which the conductor hurried us; two women, one old and the other young.

To prevent Alfred from playing the agreeable, I took possession of the corner fronting the youngest, leaving to my tiresome friend the freezing perspective of the older woman.

You know I have no fancy for sustaining what is called the honor of French gallantry--a gallantry which consists in wearying with ill-timed attention, with remarks upon the rain and the fine weather, interlarded with a thousand and one stupid rhymes, the women forced by circumstances to travel alone.

I settled myself in my corner after making a slight bow on perceiving the presence of women in the car, one of whom evidently merited the attention of every young commercial traveler and troubadour. I set myself to examine my vis-a-vis, dividing my attention between picturesque studies and studies physiognomical.

The result of my picturesque observations was that I never saw so many poppies before. Probably they were the red sparks from the locomotive taking root and blooming along the road.

My physiognomical studies were more extended, and, without flattering myself, I believe Lavater himself would have approved them.

The cowl does not make the friar, but dress makes the woman. I shall begin by giving you an extremely detailed description of the toilet of my incognita. This is an accustomed method, which proves that it is a good one, since everybody makes use of it. My fair unknown wore neither a bark blanket fastened about her waist, nor rings in her nose, nor bracelets on her ankles, nor rings on her toes, which must appear extraordinary to you.

She wore, perhaps, the only costume that your collection lacks, that of a Parisian grisette. You, who know by heart the name of every article of a Hottentot's attire, who are strong upon Esquimaux fashions and know just how many rows of pins a Patagonian of the haut ton wears in her lower lip, have never thought of sketching such an one.

A well-approved description of a grisette should commence with her foot. The grisette is the Andalouse of Paris; she possesses the talent of being able to pass through the mire of Lutetia on tiptoe, like a dancer who studies her steps, without soiling her white stockings with a single speck of mud. The manolas of Madrid, the cigaretas of Seville in their satin slippers are not better shod; mine--pardon the anticipation of this possessive pronoun--put forward from under the seat an irreproachable boot and aristocratically turned ankle. If she would give me that graceful buskin to place in my museum beside the shoe of Carlotta Grisi, the Princess Houn-Gin's boot and Gracia of Grenada's slipper, I would fill it with gold or sugar-plums, as she pleased.

As to her dress, I acknowledge, without any feeling of mortification, that it was of mousseline; but the secret of its making was preserved by the modiste. It was tight and easy at the same time, a perfect fit attained by Palmyre in her moments of inspiration; a black silk mantilla, a little straw bonnet trimmed plainly with ribbon, and a green gauze veil, half thrown back, completed the adornment, or rather absence of ornament, of this graceful creature.

Heavens! I had like to have forgotten the gloves! Gloves are the weak point of a grisette's costume. To be fresh, they must be renewed often, but they cost the price of two days' work. Hers were, O horror! imitation Swedish, which truth compels me to value at nineteen ha'-pennies, or ninety-five centimes, to conform to the new monetary phraseology.

A worsted work-bag, half filled, was placed beside her. What could it hold? Some circulating library novel? Do not be uneasy, the bag only contained a roll and a paper of bonbons from Boissier, dainties which play an important part in my story.

Now I must draw you an exact sketch of this pretty Parisian's face--for such she was. A Parisian alone could wear, with such grace, a fifteen-franc bonnet.

I abhor bonnets; nevertheless, on some occasions, I am forced to acknowledge that they produce quite a pleasing effect. They represent a kind of queer flower, whose core is formed of a woman's head; a full-blown rose, which, in the place of stamens and pistils, bears glances and smiles.

The half-raised veil of my fair unknown only exposed to view a chin of perfect mould, a little strawberry mouth and half of her nose, perhaps three-quarters. What pretty, delicately turned nostrils, pink as the shells of the South Sea! The upper part of the face was bathed in a transparent, silvery shadow, under which the quiver of the eyelids might be imagined and the liquid fire of her glance. As to her cheeks--you must await the succession of events if you desire more ample description; for the ears of her bonnet, drawn down by the strings, concealed their contour; what could be seen of them was of a delicate rose color. Her eyes and hair will form a special paragraph.

Now that you are sufficiently enlightened upon the subject of the perspective which your friend enjoyed on the cars between Mantes and Pont-de-l'Arche, I will pass to another exercise, highly recommended in rhetorical treatises, and describe, by way of a set-off and contrast, the female monster that served as shadow to this ideal grisette.

This frightful companion appeared very suspicious. Was she the duenna, the mother or an old relative? At any rate she was very ugly, not because her head was like a stone mask with spiral eyebrows, and lips slashed like the fossa of a heraldic dolphin, but vulgarity had stamped the mask, making its features common, coarse and dull. The habit of servile compliance had deprived them of all true expression; she squinted, her smile was vaguely stupid, and she wore an air of spurious good-nature, indicative of country birth; a dark merino dress, cloak of sombre hue, a bonnet under which stood out the many ruffles of a rumpled cap, completed the attire of the creature.

The grisette is a gay, chattering bird, which at fifteen escapes from the nest never to return; it is not her custom to drag about a mother after her, this is the special mania of actresses who resort to all sorts of tricks ignored by the proud and independent grisette. The grisette seems instinctively to know that the presence of an old woman about a young one exerts an unhealthy influence. It suggests sorcery and the witches' vigil; snails seek roses only to spread their slime over them, and old age only approaches youth from a discreditable motive.

This woman was not the mother of my incognita; so sweet a flower could not grow upon such a rugged bush. I heard the antique say in the humblest tone, "Mlle, if you wish, I will put down the blind; the cinders might hurt you."

Doubtless she was some relative; for a grisette never has a companion, and duennas pertain exclusively to Spanish infantas.

Was my grisette simply an adventuress, graced by a hired mother to give her an air of respectability? No, there was the seal of simple honesty stamped upon her whole person; a care in the details of her simple toilet, which separated her from that venturous class. A wandering princess would not show such exactitude in her dress; she would betray herself by a ragged shawl worn over a new dress, by silk stockings with boots down at heel, by something ripped and out of order. Besides, the old woman did not take snuff nor smell of brandy.

I made these observations in less time than it takes to write them, through Alfred's inexhaustible chatter, who imagines, like many people, that you are vexed if the conversation flags an instant. Besides, between you and me, I think he wished to impress these women with an idea of his importance, for he talked to me of the whole world. I do not know how it happened, but this whirlwind of words seemed to interest my incognita, who had all along remained quietly ensconced in her corner. The few words uttered by her were not at all remarkable; an observation upon a mass of great black clouds piled up in a corner of the horizon that threatened a shower; but I was charmed with the fresh and silvery tone of her voice. The music of the words--it is going to rain--penetrated my soul like an air from Bellini, and I felt something stir in my heart, which, well cultivated, might turn into love.

The locomotive soon devoured the distance between Mantos and Pont de l'Arche. An abominable scraping of iron and twisting of brakes was heard, and the train stopped. I was terribly alarmed lest the grisette and her companion should continue their route, but they got out at the station. O Roger wasn't I a happy dog? While they were employed in hunting up some parcel, the vehicle which runs between the station and Pont de l'Arche left, weighed down with trunks and travellers; so that the two women and myself were compelled, in spite of the weather, to walk to Pont de l'Arche. Large drops began to sprinkle the dust. One of those big black clouds which I mentioned opened, and long streams of rain fell from its gloomy folds like arrows from an overturned quiver.

A moss-covered shed, used to put away farming implements, odd cart-wheels, performed for us the same service as the classic grotto which sheltered Eneas and Dido under similar circumstances. The wild branches of the hawthorn and sweet-briar added to the rusticity of our asylum.

My unknown, although visibly annoyed by this delay, resigned herself to her fate, and watched the rain falling in torrents. O Robinson Crusoe, how I envied you, at that moment, your famous goat-skin umbrella! how gracefully would I have offered its shelter to this beauty as far as Pont de l'Arche, for she was going to Pont de l'Arche, right into the lion's mouth. Time passed. The vehicle would not return until the next train was due, that is in five or six hours; I had not told them to come for me; our situation was most melancholy.

My infanta opened daintily her little bag, took from it a roll and some bonbons, which she began to eat in the most graceful manner imaginable, but having breakfasted before leaving Mantes, I was dying of hunger; I suppose I must have looked covetously at her provisions, for she began to laugh and offered me half of her pittance, which I accepted. In the division, I don't know how it happened, but my hand touched hers--she drew it quickly away, and bestowed upon me a look of such royal disdain that I said to myself--This young girl is destined for the dramatic profession,--she plays the Marguerites and the Clytemnestras in the provinces until she possesses _embonpoint_ enough to appear at Porte Saint Martin or the Odeon. This vampire is her dresser--everything was clear.

I promised you a paragraph upon her eyes and hair; her eyes were a changeable gray, sometimes blue, sometimes green, according to the expression and the light; her chestnut locks were separated in two glossy braids, half satin, half velvet--many a great lady would have paid high for such hair.

The shower over, a wild resolution was unanimously taken to set out on foot for Pont de l'Arche, notwithstanding the mud and the puddles.

Having entered into the good graces of the infanta by speech full of wisdom and gesture carefully guarded, we set out together, the old woman following a few steps behind, and the marvellous little boot arrived at its destination without being soiled the least in the world--grisettes are perfect partridges--the house of Madame Taverneau, the post-mistress, where my incognita stopped.

You are a prince of very little penetration, dear Roger, if you have not divined that you will receive a letter from me every day, and even two, if I have to send empty envelopes or recopy the Complete Letter Writer. To whom will I not write? No minister of state will ever have so extended a correspondence.

EDGAR DE MEILHAN.

VII.

IRENE DE CHATEAUDUN _to_ MME. LA VICOMTESSE DE BRAIMES, Hotel of the Prefecture, Grenoble (Isère).

PONT DE L'ARCHE, May 29th 18--.

Valentine, this time I rebel, and question your infallibility.

It is useless for you to say to me, "You do not love him." I tell you I do love him, and intend to marry him. Nevertheless you excite my admiration in pronouncing against me this very well-turned sentence. "Genuine and fervid love is not so ingenuous. When you love deeply, you respect the object of your devotion and are fearful of giving offence by daring to test him.

"When you love sincerely you are not so venturesome. It is so necessary for you to trust him, that you treasure up your faith and risk it not in suspicious trifling.

"Real love is timid, it would rather err than suspect, it buries doubts instead of nursing them, and very wisely, for love cannot survive faith."

This is a magnificent period, and you should send it to Balzac; he delights in filling his novels with such very woman-like phrases.

I admit that your ideas are just and true when applied to love alone; but if this love is to end in marriage, the "test" is no longer "suspicious trifling," and one has the right to try the constancy of a character without offending the dignity of love.

Marriage, and especially a marriage of inclination, is so serious a matter, that we cannot exercise too much prudence and reasonable delay before taking the final step.

You say, "Love is timid;" well, so is Hymen. One dares not lightly utter the irrevocable promise, "Thine for life!" these words make us hesitate.

When we wish to be honorable and faithfully keep our oaths, we pause a little before we utter them.

Now I can hear you exclaim, "You are not in love; if you were, instead of being frightened by these words, they would reassure you; you would be quick to say 'Thine for life,' and you could never imagine that there existed any other man you could love."

I am aware that this gives you weapons to be used against me; I know I am foolish! but--well, I feel that there is some one somewhere that I could love more deeply!

This silly idea sometimes makes me pause and question, but it grows fainter daily, and I now confess that it is folly, childish to cherish such a fancy. In spite of your opinion, I persist in believing that I am in love with Roger. And when you know him, you will understand how natural it is for me to love him.

I would at this very moment be talking to him in Paris but for you! Don't be astonished, for your advice prevented my returning to Paris yesterday.

Alas! I asked you for aid, and you add to my anxiety.

I left the hotel de Langeac with a joyful heart. The test will be favorable, thought I,--and when I have seen Roger in the depths of despair for a few days, seeking me everywhere, impatiently expecting me, blaming me a little and regretting me deeply, I will suddenly appear before him, happy and smiling! I will say, "Roger, you love me; I left you to think of you from afar, to question my own heart--to try the strength of your devotion; I now return without fear and with renewed confidence in myself and in you; never again shall we be separated!"

I intend to frankly confess everything to him; but you say the confession will be fatal to me. "If you intend to marry M. de Moubert, for Heaven's sake keep him in ignorance of the motive of your departure; invent an excuse--be called off to perform a duty--to nurse a sick friend; choose any story you please, rather than let him suspect you ran away to experiment upon the degree of his love."

You add, "he loves you devotedly and never will he forgive you for inflicting on him these unnecessary sufferings; a proud and deserving love never pardons suspicious and undeserved trials of its faith."

Now what can I do? Invent a falsehood? All falsehoods are stupid! Then I would have to write it, for I could not undertake to lie to his face. With strangers and people indifferent to me, I might manage it; but to look into the face of the man who loves me, who gazes so honestly into my eyes when I speak to him, who understands every expression of my countenance, who observes and admires the blush that flushes my cheek, who is familiar with every modulation of my voice, as a musician with the tones of his instrument--

Why, it is a moral impossibility to attempt such a thing! A forced smile, a false tone, would put him on his guard at once; he becomes suspicious.

At his first question my fine castle of lies vanishes into air, and I have to fall back on the unvarnished truth.

To gratify you, Valentine, I will lie, but lie at a distance. I feel that it is necessary to put many stations and provinces between my native candor and the people I am to deceive.

Why do you scold me so much? You must see that I have not acted thoughtlessly; my conduct is strange, eccentric and mysterious to no one but Roger.