CHAPTER IV

MYSTERIES

The illness of M. de Létorière drew towards its close; he was nearly convalescent, thanks to the assiduous care of Madelaine, her husband, and Martin Kraft, the apprentice. Each had vied with the good Dominique in devotion to him. The Marquis had shown himself so affectionately grateful for all these touching proofs of interest, had appeared so to justify and merit them by his delicacy and the goodness of his heart, that the tailor and his wife became more and more attached to their "dear young gentleman," as they called him.

Spring approached; one day Dominique, who had gone out to endeavor to persuade an attorney to follow up one of the lawsuits of Létorière, came back with a face at once radiant and astonished; the apprentice Kraft followed him, bringing carefully an immense basket filled with the rarest fruits and flowers. On a little paper attached by a pin to a magnificent pine-apple, were written these words: "_To Monsieur the Marquis of Létorière._"

After having admired this charming gift, with almost childish curiosity, and vainly seeking to learn from whom it came, for an unknown man had left the basket with the porter, the Marquis replaced the address with the following:--"_To my good friends Landry and his wife_," and told Kraft to carry as his gift the fruit and flowers to Master Landry.

"Tell them I do not know whence this gift comes, but it is the first and only thing I have to offer them, and I send it to them as a proof of my eternal gratitude."

Some days after, he had another surprise. In a beautiful little writing-desk left at the porter's by one of the boys of Bordier, the celebrated worker in ebony, the Marquis found this note:

"Your heart tells you truly that some one is interested in you. That is well. Send these two letters as addressed."

In one compartment of the desk Létorière found two sealed letters. One was addressed:

_To Monsieur Landry, tailor, at The Golden Scissors._

The other: _To Mons. Buston, attorney to the Castle._

This gentleman, the lawyer engaged in the Marquis's lawsuit, had hardly been willing to take any steps for fear of not being paid for his services.

Létorière and Dominique looked at each other in amazement.

"What did I tell you?" cried the ex-professor; "will you believe me now? will you defy your destiny? I have always told you that you would have nothing to envy in the son of Clinias!"

Surprised at this incident, whose consequences he could not foresee, the Marquis begged Dominique to deliver the attorney's letter, and sent Master Landry's by the porter. An hour after, the tailor, Madelaine, and the apprentice were at the feet of the young gentleman.

"Thanks to you, Monsieur the Marquis, I have the patronage of Monseigneur the Duke of Bourbon!" cried Landry. "It is a clear and net profit of six thousand livres a year! Behold me, in future, a rich man!"

"Thanks to you, Monsieur the Marquis, our neighbor Mathurin, who got from us all our custom, will burst with envy," said Madelaine.

"Thanks to you, Monsieur the Marquis, Dame Madelaine, angry at seeing our customers leave us, will give me no more cuff's!" said Martin Kraft.

"My friends," replied Létorière, "I am extremely pleased at what has happened to you; but I declare to you, that unfortunately I have had nothing to do with it."

"Ah, Monsieur the Marquis, why will you say that?" said Madelaine, reproachfully; and drawing from her pocket the precious missive, she read: 'Master Landry is informed that at the express recommendation of the Marquis of Létorière, Monseigneur the Duke of Bourbon deigns to appoint him his personal tailor, as well as that of his household'; you see that, Monsieur the Marquis?" said Madelaine; and, gazing at Létorière with eyes filled with tears of joy, she added: "This custom makes our fortunes forever . . . Ah, well! on the faith of an honest woman, the basket of flowers and the note that the Marquis sent us yesterday, gave us perhaps more pleasure!"

"And you are right, my friends," said Létorière; "for yesterday it was truly I who sent you the present, not knowing whence it came. But to-day I did not know what the letter contained; it is a mystery that I cannot solve."

At this moment Dominique entered his countenance completely changed; he had come up the five flights of stairs with so much haste that he could hardly speak; the only words he could utter in a broken voice were: "rich . . . rich . . . the attorney . . . the lawsuit . . . I was right!" . . . And he threw himself on the neck of his pupil with theatrical fervor.

"Be calm, my good Dominique," said the Marquis. "Tell me something of this happy news which so transports you . . ."

"Oh, yes, by heaven! this is good news!" said the ex-professor, still breathless. "Imagine me going to this Buston's . . . this bird of prey . . . your solicitor. . . . When the clerks see me enter his office, they begin the umbecoming pleasantries with which they have always greeted me . . . I despise them, after the manner of Socrates, and ask to see Mr. Buston. . . . As usual, these impudent young blackguards answer me in chorus in all tones of voice . . . 'he is not here! he is not here!' In the midst of this infernal racket, I approach the first clerk and show him my letter. . . . Ah! if you could have seen his countenance!" cried Dominique, bursting with laughter and slapping his thighs.

"Well! well! finish, then," said the Marquis.

"Well! the first clerk had already opened his mouth to utter some piece of insolence; but as soon as he recognized the writing on the letter, he became serious as a thrashed donkey, imposed silence on his comrades, and rose, saying to me respectfully: 'I will have the honor of conducting Mr. Dominique to my master.' I entered the presence of the solicitor, until then invisible or insolent. Quite another reception! The vulture had become a young turtle-dove, and cooed at me these words, after he had read the letter: 'I have never for an instant doubted the successful issue of the Marquis's lawsuit against the Intendant of Xaintonge, touching the forests of Brion. . . . This letter removes the only difficulties which prevented the prosecution of the case, which I will immediately attend to, while waiting for the documents of the great lawsuit against the German princes. I have also so much faith in the validity of the cause of Monsieur the Marquis, that I am willing, sir, to open an account with him to the amount of twenty thousand livres . . . this sum not being the fifth part of that which he will obtain for his claims on the Intendancy of Xaintonge."

"But it is a dream! a dream!" said the Marquis, putting his hand to his forehead.

"Truly, it seems to me such," replied Dominique, "and in order to assure myself of its reality, I accepted the offer of Mr. Buston, having your power of attorney."

"Well," said Létorière, "go on" . . .

"Yes, well," said Dominique, handing a portfolio to the Marquis,--"on my simple receipt, he has advanced twenty thousand livres, which behold, in bonds at sight, on the public funds." . . .

It would be impossible to paint the astonishment and joy of the actors in this scene.

After thanks and benedictions without number, the tailor, his wife, and apprentice, retired.

The Marquis remaining alone with Dominique, exhausted himself with vain conjectures as to the source of this mysterious favor. Bordier, the worker in ebony, could give no information as to the purchaser of the desk. The solicitor, maintained the most obstinate silence as to the contents and author of the letter which had made so great a change in his view of the Marquis's lawsuit. Later, the private secretary of the Duke of Bourbon answered, that his Highness had himself ordered the appointment of Master Landry to be tailor of his household.

When the health of the Marquis was fully reestablished, he went to occupy, with Dominique, a small apartment in the Faubourg St. Germain. The brave Jerome Sicard, the coachman who was willing to carry Létorière _gratis_, because he resembled _a good angel_, was installed there, to his great joy, as valet-de-chambre. This was the only recompense which he solicited, when the Marquis asked him in what manner he should acknowledge his services. It is unnecessary to say that Sicard, Master Landry, and his wife, were also generously and delicately recompensed for their kindness.

Very strangely, none of the noble actions of the Marquis remained unknown to his mysterious protector. A little note arrived by post, containing these words . . .--"It is well . . . continue . . . you are always watched." . . .

At other times he received suggestions full of wisdom: he was recommended to enjoy the pleasures of the world and of his age, but always to preserve the integrity and loyalty of his character; for _on that his future depended._

At still other times, Létorière was advised to accomplish himself in all the exercises of a gentleman. He heeded this counsel, and soon excelled in fencing, riding, and all the games which require agility and dexterity.

Sometimes these letters, which revealed a growing and enduring affection, reached the Marquis by charming and unexpected means; at one time in a beautiful Sèvres vase, filled with flowers, which an unknown person left with the porter; at another, a perfume-bag, wonderfully embroidered with his arms and cypher, would be found in his pocket on his return from a game of tennis.

This singular correspondence had lasted nearly a year, when Létorière gained his lawsuit against the Intendancy of Xaintonge.

The day after judgment was given, a groom, in the livery of the Marquis, brought him two magnificent English horses, which were just then coming into fashion. Their harness and equipments were marvels of richness and elegance. A letter, in these words, accompanied the gift:

"Your lawsuit is gained; you can now live as is becoming a gentleman of your rank. You will go to Chévin, the genealogist; he will arrange your titles to nobility; you will deposit them in the archives, in order to be presented to the king, and to have the _entrée_ to the court. You will undoubtedly have the honor of hunting with his majesty. These horses will serve you. Your conduct is satisfactory."

To all Létorière's questions, the groom's only answer was that an unknown person had bought the horses of Gabart, a famous dealer of that day, adding that he would, in a short time, bring the equipments. As to the unknown man, he was clothed in black, rather stout, and about fifty years old.

Some time after this new surprise, the Marquis received the following note:

"Go this evening to the opera ball; wait near the King's Corner between twelve and one o'clock; wear a black domino, and attach to it a blue and white ribbon."

Létorière had never been to an opera ball in his life. Though not leading the life of a recluse, he had hitherto employed his time in his academical studies, in walking with Dominique, in long readings of Greek and Latin poets, and frequent attendance at the Comédie Française.

Although Dominique had no deep insight into the human heart, he was sometimes uneasy at seeing his pupil so calm at an age when the passions often assert themselves so energetically. At one time the worthy man had thought that the mysterious protector of his pupil was a woman; but he had never mentioned his suspicions to Létorière.

When the latter informed Dominique that he was going to the opera ball, the ex-professor conceived the happy idea of accompanying his pupil. Létorière was pleased with the plan, and they set off together.

Once launched into the vortex, the two friends, embarrassed like provincials, had great trouble in finding the King's Corner, and were at first victims of the raillery of the spectators; the Marquis's figure was so slender, his manner so elegant, his foot so pretty, and his hands so charming, that he was easily taken for a woman; while Dominique, tall, bony, awkward and clumsy, passed for the husband.

Létorière reddened with anger under his mask, and needed all the authority and persuasion of Dominique to prevent him from bursting out.

Presently two dominoes approached them.

The tallest figure took Dominique's arm, while the smaller, approaching Létorière, whispered these words in his ear: _Continue . . . we are . . . persevere . . . and hope._ . . .

The Marquis felt a little box slipped into his hand, and before he could say one word, or make a motion, the domino was lost in the crowd.

Létorière was enchanted. The voice which had whispered in his ear the same words that his unknown protector had so often written, was the voice of a woman, and of infinite sweetness; he thought he saw, shining through the silken mask, two great blue eyes.

Intoxicated with joy, feeling a thousand new emotions rising in his breast, he utterly forgot Dominique, and had the insane idea of finding again his domino, believing he should recognize among a thousand the great blue eyes which were fixed upon his with such a singularly tender expression. Towards five o'clock in the morning he realized the futility of his search, and returned home, impatient to know what the box contained.

He found within, one of those large seal rings then so fashionable: it was surrounded by diamonds, and on the enamelled centre was painted with admirable delicacy in the midst of a cloud, a charming blue eye, whose expression was such, that Létorière recognized at once the sweet and tender look of his domino. On the setting were these words, in microscopic characters: _It follows you everywhere._

The letter contained these words: "You are twenty years old, young, handsome, noble, brilliant, and charming; you have enough money to be extravagant. Your future is in your own hands . . . we shall see if the counsels we have given you for a year will continue to bear fruit . . . we shall write to you no more . . . you have free liberty . . . _but you be followed everywhere._ In four years from this time, whether or not your conduct equals our expectations, you will receive a letter . . . Henceforth, then, hope and persevere . . ."

During a month the Marquis was almost devoured by curiosity. He walked the streets like a crazy person, looking anxiously at all the blue eyes he met, and comparing them with his ring; many beautiful blue eyes timidly fell before his ardent and restless gaze; others responded languidly, others angrily, but he discovered nothing.

He remembered that he had been requested to deposit his titles in the archives, in order that he might be received at court; he fulfilled the necessary formalities, and waited the return of one of his distant relatives, the Count of Appreville, to have the honor of being presented to King Louis XV.