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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Fracasse, by Théophile Gautier
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Captain Fracasse
+
+Author: Théophile Gautier
+
+Translator: Ellen Murray Beam
+
+Release Date: March, 1998 [eBook #1235]
+[Most recently updated: June 17, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Dianne Bean and David Widger
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN FRACASSE ***
+
+
+
+
+Captain Fracasse
+
+by Théophile Gautier
+
+
+Contents
+
+ CHAPTER I. CASTLE MISERY
+ CHAPTER II THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS
+ CHAPTER III THE BLUE SUN INN
+ CHAPTER IV AN ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS
+ CHAPTER V AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES
+ CHAPTER VI A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
+ CHAPTER VII CAPTAIN FRACASSE
+ CHAPTER VIII THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE
+ CHAPTER IX A MELEE AND A DUEL
+ CHAPTER X A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE
+ CHAPTER XI THE PONT-NEUF
+ CHAPTER XII THE CROWNED RADISH
+ CHAPTER XIII A DOUBLE ATTACK
+ CHAPTER XIV LAMPOURDE’S DELICACY
+ CHAPTER XV MALARTIC AT WORK
+ CHAPTER XVI VALLOMBREUSE
+ CHAPTER XVII THE AMETHYST RING
+ CHAPTER XVIII A FAMILY PARTY
+ CHAPTER XIX NETTLES AND COBWEBS
+ CHAPTER XX CHIQUITA’S DECLARATION OF LOVE
+ CHAPTER XXI HYMEN! OH HYMEN!
+ CHAPTER XXII THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS
+
+
+
+
+CAPTAIN FRACASSE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+CASTLE MISERY
+
+
+Upon the southern slope of one of those barren hills that rise abruptly
+here and there in the desolate expanse of the Landes, in South-western
+France, stood, in the reign of Louis XIII, a gentleman’s residence,
+such as abound in Gascony, and which the country people dignify by the
+name of château.
+
+Two tall towers, with extinguisher tops, mounted guard at the angles of
+the mansion, and gave it rather a feudal air. The deep grooves upon its
+facade betrayed the former existence of a draw-bridge, rendered
+unnecessary now by the filling up of the moat, while the towers were
+draped for more than half their height with a most luxuriant growth of
+ivy, whose deep, rich green contrasted happily with the ancient gray
+walls.
+
+A traveller, seeing from afar the steep pointed roof and lofty towers
+standing out against the sky, above the furze and heather that crowned
+the hill-top, would have pronounced it a rather imposing château—the
+residence probably of some provincial magnate; but as he drew near
+would have quickly found reason to change his opinion. The road which
+led to it from the highway was entirely overgrown with moss and weeds,
+save a narrow pathway in the centre, though two deep ruts, full of
+water, and inhabited by a numerous family of frogs, bore mute witness
+to the fact that carriages had once passed that way.
+
+The roof, of dark red tiles, was disfigured by many large,
+leprous-looking, yellow patches, while in some places the decayed
+rafters had given way, leaving formidable gaps. The numerous
+weather-cocks that surmounted the towers and chimneys were so rusted
+that they could no longer budge an inch, and pointed persistently in
+various directions. The high dormer windows were partially closed by
+old wooden shutters, warped, split, and in every stage of dilapidation;
+broken stones filled up the loop-holes and openings in the towers; of
+the twelve large windows in the front of the house, eight were boarded
+up; the remaining four had small diamond-shaped panes of thick,
+greenish glass, fitting so loosely in their leaden frames that they
+shook and rattled at every breath of wind; between these windows a
+great deal of the stucco had fallen off, leaving the rough wall exposed
+to view.
+
+Above the grand old entrance door, whose massive stone frame and lintel
+retained traces of rich ornamentation, almost obliterated by time and
+neglect, was sculptured a coat of arms, now so defaced that the most
+accomplished adept in heraldry would not be able to decipher it. Only
+one leaf of the great double door was ever opened now, for not many
+guests were received or entertained at the château in these days of its
+decadence. Swallows had built their nests in every available nook about
+it, and but for a slender thread of smoke rising spirally from a
+chimney at the back of this dismal, half-ruined mansion, the traveller
+would have surely believed it to be uninhabited. This was the only sign
+of life visible about the whole place, like the little cloud upon the
+mirror from the breath of a dying man, which alone gives evidence that
+he still lives.
+
+Upon pushing open the practicable leaf of the great worm-eaten door,
+which yielded reluctantly, and creaked dolefully as it turned upon its
+rusty hinges, the curious visitor entered a sort of portico, more
+ancient than the rest of the building, with fine, large columns of
+bluish granite, and a lofty vaulted roof. At the point of intersection
+of the arches was a stone shield, bearing the same coat of arms that
+was sculptured over the entrance without. This one was in somewhat
+better preservation than the other, and seemed to bear something
+resembling three golden storks (cigognes) on an azure field; though it
+was so much in shadow, and so faded and dingy, that it was impossible
+to make it out clearly. Fastened to the wall, at a convenient height
+from the ground, were great iron extinguishers, blackened by the smoke
+from torches in long by-gone years, and also iron rings, to which the
+guests’ horses were made fast in the olden times, when the castle was
+in its glory. The dust that lay thick upon them now showed that it was
+long since they had been made use of.
+
+From this portico—whence a door on either side opened into the main
+building; one leading into a long suite of apartments on the ground
+floor, and the other into what had probably been a guard-room—the
+explorer passed into an interior court, dismal, damp, and bare. In the
+corners nettles and various rank weeds were growing riotously amid the
+great heaps of rubbish fallen from the crumbling cornice high above,
+and grass had sprung up everywhere in the crevices of the stone
+pavement. Opposite the entrance a flight of dilapidated, shaky steps,
+with a heavy stone balustrade, led down into a neglected garden, which
+was gradually becoming a perfect thicket. Excepting in one small bed,
+where a few cabbages were growing, there was no attempt at cultivation,
+and nature had reasserted her rights everywhere else in this abandoned
+spot, taking, apparently, a fierce delight in effacing all traces of
+man’s labour. The fruit trees threw out irregular branches without fear
+of the pruning knife; the box, intended to form a narrow border to the
+curiously shaped flower-beds and grass-plots, had grown up unchecked
+into huge, bushy shrubs, while a great variety of sturdy weeds had
+usurped the places formerly devoted to choice plants and beautiful,
+fragrant flowers. Brambles, bristling with sharp thorns, which had
+thrown their long, straggling arms across the paths, caught and tried
+to hold back any bold adventurer who attempted to penetrate into the
+mysterious depths of this desolate wilderness. Solitude is averse to
+being surprised in dishabille, and surrounds herself with all sorts of
+defensive obstacles.
+
+However, the courageous explorer who persisted in following the
+ancient, overgrown alley, and was not to be daunted by formidable
+briers that tore his hands and clothing, nor low-hanging, closely
+interlaced branches that struck him smart blows in the face as he
+forced his way through them, would have reached at last a sort of rocky
+niche, fancifully arranged as a grotto. Besides the masses of ivy, iris
+and gladiolus, that had been carefully planted long ago in the
+interstices of the rock, it was draped with a profusion of graceful
+wild vines and feathery ferns, which half-veiled the marble statue,
+representing some mythological divinity, that still stood in this
+lonely retreat. It must have been intended for Flora or Pomona, but now
+there were tufts of repulsive, venomous-looking mushrooms in the
+pretty, graceful, little basket on her arm, instead of the sculptured
+fruit or flowers that should have filled it. Although her nose was
+broken, and her fair body disfigured by many dark stains, and overgrown
+in part with clinging mosses, it could still plainly be seen that she
+had once been very lovely. At her feet was a marble basin, shaped like
+a shell, half full of discoloured, stagnant water; the lion’s head just
+above it, now almost entirely concealed by a thick curtain of leaves,
+no longer poured forth the sparkling stream that used to fall into it
+with a musical murmur. This little grotto, with its fountain and
+statue, bore witness to former wealth; and also to the aesthetic taste
+of some long-dead owner of the domain. The marble goddess was in the
+Florentine style of the Renaissance, and probably the work of one of
+those Italian sculptors who followed in the train of del Rosso or
+Primaticcio, when they came to France at the bidding of that generous
+patron of the arts, Francis I; which time was also, apparently, the
+epoch of the greatest prosperity of this noble family, now so utterly
+fallen into decay.
+
+Behind the grotto rose a high wall, built of stone, crumbling and
+mouldy now, but still bearing some broken remains of trellis-work,
+evidently intended to be covered with creepers that would entirely
+conceal the wall itself with a rich tapestry of verdure. This was the
+limit of the garden; beyond stretched the wide expanse of the sandy,
+barren Landes, flecked here and there with patches of scanty heather,
+and scattered groves of pine trees.
+
+Turning back towards the château it became apparent that this side of
+it was even more neglected and ruinous than the one we have already
+described; the recent poverty-stricken owners having tried to keep up
+appearances as far as possible, and concentrated their efforts upon the
+front of their dilapidated abode. In the stable, where were stalls for
+twenty horses, a miserable, old, white pony stood at an empty manger,
+nibbling disconsolately at a scanty truss of hay, and frequently
+turning his sunken, lack-lustre eyes expectantly towards the door. In
+front of an extensive kennel, where the lord of the manor used to keep
+a whole pack of hounds, a single dog, pathetically thin, lay sleeping
+tranquilly and soundly, apparently so accustomed to the unbroken
+solitude of the place that he had abandoned all habits of watchfulness.
+
+Entering the château the visitor found himself in a broad and lofty
+hall, containing a grand old staircase, with a richly carved, wooden
+balustrade—a good deal broken and defaced now, like everything else in
+this doleful Castle Misery. The walls had been elaborately frescoed,
+representing colossal figures of Hercules supporting brackets upon
+which rested the heavily ornamented cornice. Springing from it
+fantastic vines climbed upward on the arched ceiling, and above them
+the blue sky, faded and dingy, was grotesquely variegated with dark
+spots, caused by the water filtering through from the dilapidated roof.
+Between the oft-repeated figures of Hercules were frescoed niches,
+wherein heads of Roman emperors and other illustrious historical
+characters had been depicted in glowing tints; but all were so vague
+and dim now that they were but the ghosts of pictures, which should be
+described with the shadows of words—ordinary terms are too substantial
+to apply to them. The very echoes in this deserted hall seemed startled
+and amazed as they repeated and multiplied the unwonted sound of
+footsteps.
+
+A door near the head of the first flight of stairs opened into what had
+evidently been the great banqueting hall in the old days when sumptuous
+repasts and numerous guests were not uncommon things in the château. A
+huge beam divided the lofty ceiling into two compartments, which were
+crossed at regular intervals by smaller joists, richly carved, and
+retaining some traces of gilding. The spaces between had been
+originally of a deep blue tint, almost lost now under the thick coating
+of dust and spiders’ webs that no housemaid’s mop ever invaded. Above
+the grand old chimney-piece was a noble stag’s head, with huge,
+spreading antlers, and on the walls hung rows of ancient family
+portraits, so faded and mouldy now that most of the faces had a ghastly
+hue, and at night, by the dim, flickering lamp-light, they looked like
+a company of spectres. Nothing in the world is sadder than a collection
+of old portraits hanging thus, neglected and forgotten, in deserted
+halls—representations, half obliterated themselves, of forms and faces
+long since returned to dust. Yet these painted phantoms were most
+appropriate inhabitants of this desolate abode; real living people
+would have seemed out of place in the death-stricken house.
+
+In the middle of the room stood an immense dining-table of dark,
+polished wood, much worm-eaten, and gradually falling into decay. Two
+tall buffets, elaborately carved and ornamented, stood on opposite
+sides of the room, with only a few odd pieces of Palissy ware,
+representing lizards, crabs, and shell-fish, reposing on shiny green
+leaves, and two or three delicate wine-glasses of quaint patterns
+remaining upon the shelves where gold and silver plate used to glitter
+in rich profusion, as was the mode in France. The handsome old chairs,
+with their high, carved backs and faded velvet cushions, that had been
+so firm and luxurious once, were tottering and insecure; but it
+mattered little, since no one ever came to sit in them now round the
+festive board, and they stood against the wall in prim order, under the
+rows of family portraits.
+
+A smaller room opened out of this one, hung round with faded,
+moth-eaten tapestry. In one corner stood a large bed, with four tall,
+twisted columns and long, ample curtains of rich brocade, which had
+been delicate green and white, but now were of a dingy, yellowish hue,
+and cut completely through from top to bottom in every fold. An ebony
+table, with some pretty gilded ornaments still clinging to it, a mirror
+dim with age, and two large arm-chairs, covered with worn and faded
+embroidery, that had been wrought by the fair fingers of some noble
+dame long since dead and forgotten, completed the furniture of this
+dismal chamber.
+
+In these two rooms were the latticed windows seen in the front of the
+château, and over them still hung long sweeping curtains, so tattered
+and moth-eaten that they were almost falling to pieces. Profound
+silence reigned here, unbroken save by occasional scurrying and
+squeaking of mice behind the wainscot, the gnawing of rats in the wall,
+or the ticking of the death-watch.
+
+From the tapestried chamber a door opened into a long suite of deserted
+rooms, which were lofty and of noble proportions, but devoid of
+furniture, and given up to dust, spiders, and rats. The apartments on
+the floor above them were the home of great numbers of bats, owls, and
+jackdaws, who found ready ingress through the large holes in the roof.
+Every evening they flew forth in flocks, with much flapping of wings,
+and weird, melancholy cries and shrieks, in search of the food not to
+be found in the immediate vicinity of this forlorn mansion.
+
+The apartments on the ground floor contained nothing but a few bundles
+of straw, a heap of corn-cobs, and some antiquated gardening
+implements. In one of them, however, was a rude bed, covered with a
+single, coarse blanket; presumably that of the only domestic remaining
+in the whole establishment.
+
+It was from the kitchen chimney that the little spiral of smoke escaped
+which was seen from without. A few sticks were burning in the wide,
+old-fashioned fireplace, but the flames looked pale under the bright
+light that streamed down upon them through the broad, straight flue.
+The pot that hung from the clumsy iron crane was boiling sleepily, and
+if the curious visitor could have peeped into it he would have seen
+that the little cabbage bed in the garden had contributed of its
+produce to the _pot-au-feu_. An old black cat was sitting as close to
+the fire as he could without singeing his whiskers, and gravely
+watching the simmering pot with longing eyes. His ears had been closely
+cropped, and he had not a vestige of a tail, so that he looked like one
+of those grotesque Japanese chimeras that everybody is familiar with.
+Upon the table, near at hand, a white plate, a tin drinking cup, and a
+china dish, bearing the family arms stamped in blue, were neatly
+arranged, evidently in readiness for somebody’s supper. For a long time
+the cat remained perfectly motionless, intently watching the pot which
+had almost ceased to boil as the fire got low, and the silence
+continued unbroken; but at last a slow, heavy step was heard
+approaching from without, and presently the door opened to admit an old
+man, who looked half peasant, half gentleman’s servant. The black cat
+immediately quitted his place by the fire and went to meet him; rubbing
+himself against the newcomer’s legs, arching his back and purring
+loudly; testifying his joy in every way possible to him.
+
+“Well, well, Beelzebub,” said the old man, bending down and stroking
+him affectionately, “are you really so glad to see me? Yes, I know you
+are, and it pleases me, old fellow, so it does. We are so lonely here,
+my poor young master and I, that even the welcome of a dumb beast is
+not to be despised. They do say that you have no soul, Beelzebub, but
+you certainly do love us, and understand most times what we say to you
+too.” These greetings exchanged, Beelzebub led the way back to the
+fire, and then with beseeching eyes, looking alternately from the face
+of his friend to the _pot-au-feu_, seemed mutely begging for his share
+of its contents. Poor Beelzebub was growing so old that he could no
+longer catch as many rats and mice as his appetite craved, and he was
+evidently very hungry.
+
+Pierre, that was the old servant’s name, threw more wood on the
+smouldering fire, and then sat down on a settle in the chimney corner,
+inviting his companion—who had to wait still for his supper as
+patiently as he might—to take a seat beside him. The firelight shone
+full upon the old man’s honest, weather-beaten face, the few scattered
+locks of snow-white hair escaping from under his dark blue woollen cap,
+his thick, black eyebrows and deep wrinkles. He had the usual
+characteristics of the Basque race; a long face, hooked nose, and dark,
+gipsy-like complexion. He wore a sort of livery, which was so old and
+threadbare that it would be impossible to make out its original colour,
+and his stiff, soldier-like carriage and movements proclaimed that he
+had at some time in his life served in a military capacity. “The young
+master is late to-night,” he muttered to himself, as the daylight
+faded. “What possible pleasure can he find in these long, solitary
+rambles over the dunes? It is true though that it is so dreary here, in
+this lonely, dismal house, that any other place is preferable.”
+
+At this moment a joyous barking was heard without, the old pony in the
+stable stamped and whinnied, and the cat jumped down from his place
+beside Pierre and trotted off towards the door with great alacrity. In
+an instant the latch was lifted, and the old servant rose, taking off
+his woollen cap respectfully, as his master came into the kitchen. He
+was preceded by the poor old dog, trying to jump up on him, but falling
+back every time without being able to reach his face, and Beelzebub
+seemed to welcome them both—showing no evidence of the antipathy
+usually existing between the feline and canine races; on the contrary,
+receiving Miraut with marks of affection which were fully reciprocated.
+
+The Baron de Sigognac, for it was indeed the lord of the manor who now
+entered, was a young man of five or six and twenty; though at first
+sight he seemed much older, because of the deep gravity, even sadness,
+of his demeanour; the feeling of utter powerlessness which poverty
+brings having effectually chased away all the natural piety and
+light-heartedness of youth. Dark circles surrounded his sunken eyes,
+his cheeks were hollow, his mustache drooped in a sorrowful curve over
+his sad mouth. His long black hair was negligently pushed back from his
+pale face, and showed a want of care remarkable in a young man who was
+strikingly handsome, despite his doleful desponding expression. The
+constant pressure of a crushing grief had drawn sorrowful lines in a
+countenance that a little animation would have rendered charming. All
+the elasticity and hopefulness natural to his age seemed to have been
+lost in his useless struggles against an unhappy fate. Though his frame
+was lithe, vigorous, and admirably proportioned, all his movements were
+slow and apathetic, like those of an old man. His gestures were
+entirely devoid of animation, his whole expression inert, and it was
+evidently a matter of perfect indifference to him where he might chance
+to find himself at home, in his dismal château, or abroad in the
+desolate Landes.
+
+He had on an old gray felt hat, much too large for him, with a dingy,
+shabby feather, that drooped as if it felt heartily ashamed of itself,
+and the miserable condition to which it was reduced. A broad collar of
+guipure lace, ragged in many places, was turned down over a
+just-au-corps, which had been cut for a taller and much stouter man
+than the slender, young baron. The sleeves of his doublet were so long
+that they fell over his hands, which were small and shapely, and there
+were large iron spurs on the clumsy, old-fashioned riding-boots he
+wore. These shabby, antiquated clothes had belonged to his father; they
+were made according to the fashion that prevailed during the preceding
+reign; and the poor young nobleman, whose appearance in them was both
+ridiculous and touching, might have been taken for one of his own
+ancestors. Although he tenderly cherished his father’s memory, and
+tears often came into his eyes as he put on these garments that had
+seemed actually a part of him, yet it was not from choice that young de
+Sigognac availed himself of the paternal wardrobe. Unfortunately he had
+no other clothes, save those of his boyhood, long ago outgrown, and so
+he was thankful to have these, distasteful as they could not fail to be
+to him. The peasants, who had been accustomed to hold them in respect
+when worn by their old seignior, did not think it strange or absurd to
+see them on his youthful successor; just as they did not seem to notice
+or be aware of the half-ruined condition of the château. It had come so
+gradually that they were thoroughly used to it, and took it as a matter
+of course. The Baron de Sigognac, though poverty-stricken and forlorn,
+was still in their eyes the noble lord of the manor; the decadence of
+the family did not strike them at all as it would a stranger; and yet
+it was a grotesquely melancholy sight to see the poor young nobleman
+pass by, in his shabby old clothes, on his miserable old pony, and
+followed by his forlorn old dog.
+
+The baron sat down in silence at the table prepared for him, having
+recognised Pierre’s respectful salute by a kindly gesture. The old
+servant immediately busied himself in serving his master’s frugal
+supper; first pouring the hot soup—which was of that kind, popular
+among the poor peasantry of Gascony, called “garbure”—upon some bread
+cut into small pieces in an earthen basin, which he set before the
+baron; then, fetching from the cupboard a dish of bacon, cold, and
+cooked in Gascon fashion, he placed that also upon the table, and had
+nothing else to add to this meagre repast. The baron ate it slowly,
+with an absent air, while Miraut and Beelzebub, one on each side of
+him, received their full share from his kind hand.
+
+The supper finished, he fell into a deep reverie. Miraut had laid his
+head caressingly upon his master’s knee, and looked up into his face
+with loving, intelligent eyes, somewhat dimmed by age, but still
+seeming to understand his thoughts and sympathize with his sadness.
+Beelzebub purred loudly meantime, and occasionally mewed plaintively to
+attract his attention, while Pierre stood in a respectful attitude, cap
+in hand, at a little distance, motionless as a statue, waiting
+patiently until his master’s wandering thoughts should return. By this
+time the darkness had fallen, and the flickering radiance from the few
+sticks blazing in the great fireplace made strange effects of light and
+shade in the spacious old kitchen. It was a sad picture; this last
+scion of a noble race, formerly rich and powerful, left wandering like
+an uneasy ghost in the castle of his ancestors, with but one faithful
+old servant remaining to him of the numerous retinue of the olden
+times; one poor old dog, half starved, and gray with age, where used to
+be a pack of thirty hounds; one miserable, superannuated pony in the
+stable where twenty horses had been wont to stand; and one old cat to
+beg for caresses from his hand.
+
+At last the baron roused himself, and signed to Pierre that he wished
+to retire to his own chamber; whereupon the servant lighted a pine knot
+at the fire, and preceded his master up the stairs, Miraut and
+Beelzebub accompanying them. The smoky, flaring light of the torch made
+the faded figures on the wall seem to waver and move as they passed
+through the hall and up the broad staircase, and gave a strange, weird
+expression to the family portraits that looked down upon this little
+procession as it moved by below them. When they reached the tapestried
+chamber Pierre lighted a little copper lamp, and then bade the baron
+good-night, followed by Miraut as he retraced his steps to the kitchen;
+but Beelzebub, being a privileged character, remained, and curled
+himself up comfortably in one of the old arm-chairs, while his master
+threw himself listlessly into the other, in utter despair at the
+thought of his miserable loneliness, and aimless, hopeless life. If the
+chamber seemed dreary and forlorn by day, it was far more so by night.
+The faded figures in the tapestry had an uncanny look; especially one,
+a hunter, who might have passed for an assassin, just taking aim at his
+victim. The smile on his startlingly red lips, in reality only a
+self-satisfied smirk, was fairly devilish in that light, and his
+ghastly face horribly life-like. The lamp burned dimly in the damp
+heavy air, the wind sighed and moaned along the corridors, and strange,
+frightful sounds came from the deserted chambers close at hand. The
+storm that had long been threatening had come at last, and large, heavy
+rain-drops were driven violently against the window-panes by gusts of
+wind that made them rattle loudly in their leaden frames. Sometimes it
+seemed as if the whole sash would give way before the fiercer blasts,
+as though a giant had set his knee against it, and was striving to
+force an entrance. Now and again, when the wind lulled for a moment
+while it gathered strength for a fresh assault, the horrid shriek of an
+owl would be heard above the dashing of the rain that was falling in
+torrents.
+
+The master of this dismal mansion paid little attention to this
+lugubrious symphony, but Beelzebub was very uneasy, starting up at
+every sound, and peering into the shadowy corners of the room, as if he
+could see there something invisible to human eyes. The baron took up a
+little book that was lying upon the table, glanced at the familiar arms
+stamped upon its tarnished cover, and opening it, began to read in a
+listless, absent way. His eyes followed the smooth rhythm of Ronsard’s
+ardent love-songs and stately sonnets, but his thoughts were wandering
+far afield, and he soon threw the book from him with an impatient
+gesture, and began slowly unfastening his garments, with the air of a
+man who is not sleepy, but only goes to bed because he does not know
+what else to do with himself, and has perhaps a faint hope of
+forgetting his troubles in the embrace of Morpheus, most blessed of all
+the gods. The sand runs so slowly in the hour-glass on a dark, stormy
+night, in a half-ruined castle, ten leagues away from any living soul.
+
+The poor young baron, only surviving representative of an ancient and
+noble house, had much indeed to make him melancholy and despondent. His
+ancestors had worked their own ruin, and that of their descendants, in
+various ways. Some by gambling, some in the army, some by undue
+prodigality in living—in order that they might shine at court—so that
+each generation had left the estate more and more diminished. The
+fiefs, the farms, the land surrounding the château itself, all had been
+sold, one after the other, and the last baron, after desperate efforts
+to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the family—efforts which came too
+late, for it is useless to try to stop the leaks after the vessel has
+gone down—had left his son nothing but this half-ruined château and the
+few acres of barren land immediately around it. The unfortunate child
+had been born and brought up in poverty. His mother had died young,
+broken-hearted at the wretched prospects of her only son; so that he
+could not even remember her sweet caresses and tender, loving care. His
+father had been very stern with him; punishing him severely for the
+most trivial offences; yet he would have been glad now even of his
+sharp rebukes, so terribly lonely had he been for the last four years;
+ever since his father was laid in the family vault. His youthful pride
+would not allow him to associate with the noblesse of the province
+without the accessories suitable to his rank, though he would have been
+received with open arms by them, so his solitude was never invaded.
+Those who knew his circumstances respected as well as pitied the poor,
+proud young baron, while many of the former friends of the family
+believed that it was extinct; which indeed it inevitably would be, with
+this its only remaining scion, if things went on much longer as they
+had been going for many years past.
+
+The baron had not yet removed a single garment when his attention was
+attracted by the strange uneasiness of Beelzebub, who finally jumped
+down from his arm-chair, went straight to one of the windows, and
+raising himself on his hind legs put his fore-paws on the casing and
+stared out into the thick darkness, where it was impossible to
+distinguish anything but the driving rain. A loud howl from Miraut at
+the same moment proclaimed that he too was aroused, and that something
+very unusual must be going on in the vicinity of the château,
+ordinarily as quiet as the grave. Miraut kept up persistently a furious
+barking, and the baron gave up all idea of going to bed. He hastily
+readjusted his dress, so that he might be in readiness for whatever
+should happen, and feeling a little excited at this novel commotion.
+
+“What can be the matter with poor old Miraut? He usually sleeps from
+sunset to sunrise without making a sound, save his snores. Can it be
+that a wolf is prowling about the place?” said the young man to
+himself, as he buckled the belt of his sword round his slender waist. A
+formidable weapon it was, that sword, with long blade, and heavy iron
+scabbard.
+
+At that moment three loud knocks upon the great outer door resounded
+through the house. Who could possibly have strayed here at this hour,
+so far from the travelled roads, and in this tempest that was making
+night horrible without? No such thing had occurred within the baron’s
+recollection. What could it portend?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS
+
+
+The Baron de Sigognac went down the broad staircase without a moment’s
+delay to answer this mysterious summons, protecting with his hand the
+feeble flame of the small lamp he carried from the many draughts that
+threatened to blow it out. The light, shining through his slender
+fingers, gave them a rosy tinge, so that he merited the epithet applied
+by Homer, the immortal bard, to the laughing, beautiful Aurora, even
+though he advanced through the thick darkness with his usual melancholy
+mien, and followed by a black cat, instead of preceding the glorious
+god of day.
+
+Setting down his lamp in a sheltered corner, he proceeded to take down
+the massive bar that secured the door, cautiously opened the
+practicable leaf, and found himself face to face with a man, upon whom
+the light of the lamp shone sufficiently to show rather a grotesque
+figure, standing uncovered in the pelting rain. His head was bald and
+shining, with a few locks of gray hair clustering about the temples. A
+jolly red nose, bulbous in form, a small pair of twinkling, roguish
+eyes, looking out from under bushy, jet-black eyebrows, flabby cheeks,
+over which was spread a network of purplish fibres, full, sensual lips,
+and a scanty, straggling beard, that scarcely covered the short, round
+chin, made up a physiognomy worthy to serve as the model for a Silenus;
+for it was plainly that of a wine-bibber and _bon vivant_. Yet a
+certain expression of good humour and kindness, almost of gentleness,
+redeemed what would otherwise have been a repulsive face. The comical
+little wrinkles gathering about the eyes, and the merry upward turn of
+the comers of the mouth, showed a disposition to smile as he met the
+inquiring gaze of the young baron, but he only bowed repeatedly and
+profoundly, with exaggerated politeness and respect.
+
+This extraordinary pantomime finished, with a grand flourish, the
+burlesque personage, still standing uncovered in the pouring rain,
+anticipated the question upon de Sigognac’s lips, and began at once the
+following address, in an emphatic and declamatory tone:
+
+“I pray you deign to excuse, noble seignior, my having come thus to
+knock at the gates of your castle in person at this untimely hour,
+without sending a page or a courier in advance, to announce my approach
+in a suitable manner. Necessity knows no law, and forces the most
+polished personages to be guilty of gross breaches of etiquette at
+times.”
+
+“What is it you want?” interrupted the baron, in rather a peremptory
+tone, annoyed by the absurd address of this strange old creature, whose
+sanity he began to doubt.
+
+“Hospitality, most noble seignior; hospitality for myself and my
+comrades—princes and princesses, heroes and beauties, men of letters
+and great captains, pretty waiting-maids and honest valets, who travel
+through the provinces from town to town in the chariot of Thespis,
+drawn by oxen, as in the ancient times. This chariot is now hopelessly
+stuck in the mud only a stone’s throw from your castle, my noble lord.”
+
+“If I understand aright what you say,” answered the baron, “you are a
+strolling band of players, and have lost your way. Though my house is
+sadly dilapidated, and I cannot offer you more than mere shelter, you
+are heartily welcome to that, and will be better off within here than
+exposed to the fury of this wild storm.”
+
+The pedant—for such seemed to be his character in the troupe—bowed his
+acknowledgments.
+
+During this colloquy, Pierre, awakened by Miraut’s loud barking, had
+risen and joined his master at the door. As soon as he was informed of
+what had occurred, he lighted a lantern, and with the baron set forth,
+under the guidance of the droll old actor, to find and rescue the
+chariot in distress. When they reached it Leander and Matamore were
+tugging vainly at the wheels, while his majesty, the king, pricked up
+the weary oxen with the point of his dagger. The actresses, wrapped in
+their cloaks and seated in the rude chariot, were in despair, and much
+frightened as well—wet and weary too, poor things. This most welcome
+re-enforcement inspired all with fresh courage, and, guided by Pierre’s
+suggestions, they soon succeeded in getting the unwieldy vehicle out of
+the quagmire and into the road leading to the château, which was
+speedily reached, and the huge equipage safely piloted through the
+grand portico into the interior court. The oxen were at once taken from
+before it and led into the stable, while the actresses followed de
+Sigognac up to the ancient banqueting hall, which was the most
+habitable room in the château. Pierre brought some wood, and soon had a
+bright fire blazing cheerily in the great fireplace. It was needed,
+although but the beginning of September and the weather still warm, to
+dry the dripping garments of the company; and besides, the air was so
+damp and chilly in this long disused apartment that the genial warmth
+and glow of the fire were welcome to all.
+
+Although the strolling comedians were accustomed to find themselves in
+all sorts of odd, strange lodgings in the course of their wanderings,
+they now looked with astonishment at their extraordinary surroundings;
+being careful, however, like well-bred people, not to manifest too
+plainly the surprise they could not help feeling.
+
+“I regret very much that I cannot offer you a supper,” said their young
+host, when all had assembled round the fire, “but my larder is so bare
+that a mouse could not find enough for a meal in it. I live quite alone
+in this house with my faithful old Pierre; never visited by anybody;
+and you can plainly perceive, without my telling you, that plenty does
+not abound here.”
+
+“Never mind that, noble seignior,” answered Blazius, the pedant, “for
+though on the stage we may sit down to mock repasts—pasteboard fowls
+and wooden bottles—we are careful to provide ourselves with more
+substantial and savoury viands in real life. As quartermaster of the
+troupe I always have in reserve a Bayonne ham, a game pasty, or
+something, of that sort, with at least a dozen bottles of good old
+Bordeaux.”
+
+“Bravo, sir pedant,” cried Leander, “do you go forthwith and fetch in
+the provisions; and if his lordship will permit, and deign to join us,
+we will have our little feast here. The ladies will set the table for
+us meanwhile I am sure.”
+
+The baron graciously nodded his assent, being in truth so amazed at the
+whole proceeding that he could not easily have found words just then;
+and he followed with wondering and admiring eyes the graceful movements
+of Serafina and Isabelle, who, quitting their seats by the fire,
+proceeded to arrange upon the worn but snow-white cloth that Pierre had
+spread on the ancient dining-table, the plates and other necessary
+articles that the old servant brought forth from the recesses of the
+carved buffets. The pedant quickly came back, carrying a large basket
+in each hand, and with a triumphant air placed a huge pasty of most
+tempting appearance in the middle of the table. To this he added a
+large smoked tongue, some slices of rosy Bayonne ham, and six bottles
+of wine.
+
+Beelzebub watched these interesting preparations from a distance with
+eager eyes, but was too much afraid of all these strangers to approach
+and claim a share of the good things on the table. The poor beast was
+so accustomed to solitude and quiet, never seeing any one beyond his
+beloved master and Pierre, that he was horribly frightened at the
+sudden irruption of these noisy newcomers.
+
+Finding the feeble light of the baron’s small lamp rather dim, Matamore
+bad gone out to the chariot and brought back two showy candelabra,
+which ordinarily did duty on the stage. They each held several candles,
+which, in addition to the warm radiance from the blazing fire, made
+quite a brilliant illumination in this room, so lately dark, cheerless,
+and deserted. It had become warm and comfortable by this time; its
+family portraits and tarnished splendour looked their best in the
+bright, soft light, which had chased away the dark shadows and given a
+new beauty to everything it fell upon; the whole place was
+metamorphosed; a festive air prevailed, and the ancient banqueting hall
+once more resounded with cheery voices and gay laughter.
+
+The poor young baron, to whom all this had been intensely disagreeable
+at first, became aware of a strange feeling of comfort and pleasure
+stealing over him, to which, after a short struggle, he finally yielded
+himself entirely. Isabelle, Serafina, even the pretty _soubrette_,
+seemed to him, unaccustomed as he was to feminine beauty and grace,
+like goddesses come down from Mount Olympus, rather than mere ordinary
+mortals. They were all very pretty, and well fitted to turn heads far
+more experienced than his. The whole thing was like a delightful dream
+to him; he almost doubted the evidence of his own senses, and every few
+minutes found himself dreading the awakening, and the vanishing of the
+entrancing vision.
+
+When all was ready de Sigognac led Isabelle and Serafina to the table,
+placing one on each side of him, with the pretty _soubrette_ opposite.
+Mme. Léonarde, the duenna of the troupe, sat beside the pedant,
+Leander, Matamore, his majesty the tyrant, and Scapin finding places
+for themselves. The youthful host was now able to study the faces of
+his guests at his ease, as they sat round the table in the full light
+of the candles burning upon it in the two theatrical candelabra. He
+turned his attention to the ladies first, and it perhaps will not be
+out of place to give a little sketch of them here, while the pedant
+attacks the gigantic game pasty.
+
+Serafina, the “leading lady” of the troupe, was a handsome young woman
+of four or five and twenty, who had quite a grand air, and was as
+dignified and graceful withal as any veritable noble dame who shone at
+the court of his most gracious majesty, Louis XIII. She had an oval
+face, slightly aquiline nose, large gray eyes, bright red lips—the
+under one full and pouting, like a ripe cherry—-a very fair complexion,
+with a beautiful colour in her cheeks when she was animated or excited,
+and rich masses of dark brown hair most becomingly arranged. She wore a
+round felt hat, with the wide rim turned up at one side, and trimmed
+with long, floating plumes. A broad lace collar was turned down over
+her dark green velvet dress, which was elaborately braided, and fitted
+closely to a fine, well-developed figure. A long, black silk scarf was
+worn negligently around her shapely shoulders and although both velvet
+and silk were old and dingy, and the feathers in her hat wet and limp,
+they were still very effective, and she looked like a young queen who
+had strayed away from her realm; the freshness and radiant beauty of
+her face more than made up for the shabbiness of her dress, and de
+Sigognac was fairly dazzled by her many charms.
+
+Isabelle was much more youthful than Serafina, as was requisite for her
+role of ingenuous young girl, and far more simply dressed. She had a
+sweet, almost childlike face, beautiful, silky, chestnut hair, with
+golden lights in it, dark, sweeping lashes veiling her large, soft
+eyes, a little rosebud of a mouth, and an air of modesty and purity
+that was evidently natural to her—not assumed. A gray silk gown, simply
+made, showed to advantage her slender, graceful form, which seemed far
+too fragile to endure the hardships inseparable from the wandering life
+she was leading. A high Elizabethan ruff made a most becoming frame for
+her sweet, delicately tinted, young face, and her only ornament was a
+string of pearl beads, clasped round her slender, white neck. Though
+her beauty was less striking at first sight than Serafina’s, it was of
+a higher order: not dazzling like hers, but surpassingly lovely in its
+exquisite purity and freshness, and promising to eclipse the other’s
+more showy charms, when the half-opened bud should have expanded into
+the full-blown flower.
+
+The _soubrette_ was like a beautiful Gipsy, with a clear, dark
+complexion, rich, mantling colour in her velvety cheeks, intensely
+black hair—long, thick, and wavy—great, flashing, brown eyes, and
+rather a large mouth, with ripe, red lips, and dazzling white
+teeth—one’s very beau-ideal of a bewitching, intriguing waiting-maid,
+and one that might be a dangerous rival to any but a surpassingly
+lovely and fascinating mistress. She was one of the beauties that women
+are not apt to admire, but men rave about and run after the world over.
+She wore a fantastic costume of blue and yellow, which was odd,
+piquant, and becoming, and seemed fully conscious of her own charms.
+
+Mme. Léonarde, the “noble mother” of the troupe dressed all in black,
+like a Spanish duenna, was portly of figure, with a heavy, very pale
+face, double chin, and intensely black eyes, that had a crafty,
+slightly malicious expression. She had been upon the stage from her
+early childhood, passing through all the different phases, and was an
+actress of decided talent, often still winning enthusiastic applause at
+the expense of younger and more attractive women, who were inclined to
+think her something of an old sorceress.
+
+So much for the feminine element. The principal roles were all
+represented; and if occasionally a re-enforcement was required, they
+could almost always pick up some provincial actress, or even an
+amateur, at a pinch. The actors were five in number: The pedant,
+already described, who rejoiced in the name of Blazitis; Leander;
+Hérode, the tragic tyrant; Matamore, the bully; and Scapin, the
+intriguing valet.
+
+Leander, the romantic, irresistible, young lover—darling of the
+ladies—was a tall, fine-looking fellow of about thirty, though
+apparently much more youthful, thanks to the assiduous care he bestowed
+on his handsome person. His slightly curly, black hair was worn long,
+so that he might often have occasion to push it back from his forehead,
+with a hand as white and delicate as a woman’s, upon one of whose taper
+fingers sparkled an enormous diamond—a great deal too big to be real.
+He was rather fancifully dressed, and always falling into such
+graceful, languishing attitudes as he thought would be admired by the
+fair sex, whose devoted slave he was. This Adonis never for one moment
+laid aside his role. He punctuated his sentences with sighs, even when
+speaking of the most indifferent matters, and assumed all sorts of
+preposterous airs and graces, to the secret amusement of his
+companions. But he had great success among the ladies, who all
+flattered him and declared he was charming, until they had turned his
+head completely; and it was his firm belief that he was irresistibly
+fascinating.
+
+The tyrant was the most good-natured, easy-going creature imaginable;
+but, strangely enough, gifted by nature with all the external signs of
+ferocity. With his tall, burly frame, very dark skin, immensely thick,
+shaggy eyebrows, black as jet, crinkly, bushy hair of the same hue, and
+long beard, that grew far up on his cheeks, he was a very formidable,
+fierce-looking fellow; and when he spoke, his loud, deep voice made
+everything ring again. He affected great dignity, and filled his role
+to perfection.
+
+Matamore was as different as possible, painfully thin—scarcely more
+than mere skin and bones—a living skeleton with a large hooked nose,
+set in a long, narrow face, a huge mustache turned up at the ends, and
+flashing, black eyes. His excessively tall, lank figure was so
+emaciated that it was like a caricature of a man. The swaggering air
+suitable to his part had become habitual with him, and he walked always
+with immense strides, head well thrown back, and hand on the pommel of
+the huge sword he was never seen without.
+
+As to Scapin, he looked more like a fox than anything else, and had a
+most villainous countenance; yet he was a good enough fellow in
+reality.
+
+The painter has a great advantage over the writer, in that he can so
+present the group on his canvas that one glance suffices to take in the
+whole picture, with the lights and shadows, attitudes, costumes, and
+details of every kind, which are sadly wanting in our description—too
+long, though so imperfect—of the party gathered thus unexpectedly round
+our young baron’s table. The beginning of the repast was very silent,
+until the most urgent demands of hunger had been satisfied. Poor de
+Sigognac, who had never perhaps at any one time had as much to eat as
+he wanted since he was weaned, attacked the tempting viands with an
+appetite and ardour quite new to him; and that too despite his great
+desire to appear interesting and romantic in the eyes of the beautiful
+young women between whom he was seated. The pedant, very much amused at
+the boyish eagerness and enjoyment of his youthful host, quietly heaped
+choice bits upon his plate, and watched their rapid disappearance with
+beaming satisfaction. Beelzebub had at last plucked up courage and
+crept softly under the table to his master, making his presence known
+by a quick tapping with his fore-paws upon the baron’s knees; his
+claims were at once recognised, and he feasted to his heart’s content
+on the savoury morsels quietly thrown down to him. Poor old Miraut, who
+had followed Pierre into the room, was not neglected either, and had
+his full share of the good things that found their way to his master’s
+plate.
+
+By this time there was a good deal of laughing and talking round the
+festive board. The baron, though very timid, and much embarrassed, had
+ventured to enter into conversation with his fair neighbours. The
+pedant and the tyrant were loudly discussing the respective merits of
+tragedy and comedy. Leander, like Narcissus of old, was complacently
+admiring his own charms as reflected in a little pocket mirror he
+always had about him. Strange to say he was not a suitor of either
+Serafina’s or Isabelle’s; fortunately for them he aimed higher, and was
+always hoping that some grand lady, who saw him on the stage, would
+fall violently in love with him, and shower all sorts of favours upon
+him. He was in the habit of boasting that he had had many delightful
+adventures of the kind, which Scapin persistently denied, declaring
+that to his certain knowledge they had never taken place, save in the
+aspiring lover’s own vivid imagination. The exasperating valet,
+malicious as a monkey, took the greatest delight in tormenting poor
+Leander, and never lost an opportunity; so now, seeing him absorbed in
+self-admiration, he immediately attacked him, and soon had made him
+furious. The quarrel grew loud and violent, and Leander was heard
+declaring that he could produce a large chest crammed full of love
+letters, written to him by various high and titled ladies; whereupon
+everybody laughed uproariously, while Serafina said to de Sigognac that
+she for one did not admire their taste, and Isabelle silently looked
+her disgust. The baron meantime was more and more charmed with this
+sweet, dainty young girl, and though he was too shy to address any
+high-flown compliments to her, according to the fashion of the day, his
+eyes spoke eloquently for him. She was not at all displeased at his
+ardent glances, and smiled radiantly and encouragingly upon him,
+thereby unconsciously making poor Matamore, who was secretly enamoured
+of her, desperately unhappy, though he well knew that his passion was
+an utterly hopeless one. A more skilful and audacious lover would have
+pushed his advantage, but our poor young hero had not learned courtly
+manners nor assurance in his isolated château, and, though he lacked
+neither wit nor learning, it must be confessed that at this moment he
+did appear lamentably stupid.
+
+All the bottles having been scrupulously emptied, the pedant turned the
+last one of the half dozen upside down, so that every drop might run
+out; which significant action was noted and understood by Matamore, who
+lost no time in bringing in a fresh supply from the chariot. The baron
+began to feel the wine a little in his head, being entirely
+unaccustomed to it, yet he could not resist drinking once again to the
+health of the ladies. The pedant and the tyrant drank like old topers,
+who can absorb any amount of liquor—be it wine, or something
+stronger—without becoming actually intoxicated. Matamore was very
+abstemious, both in eating and drinking, and could have lived like the
+impoverished Spanish hidalgo, who dines on three olives and sups on an
+air upon his mandoline. There was a reason for his extreme frugality;
+he feared that if he ate and drank like other people he might lose his
+phenomenal thinness, which was of inestimable value to him in a
+professional point of view. If he should be so unfortunate as to gain
+flesh, his attractions would diminish in an inverse ratio, so he
+starved himself almost to death, and was constantly seen anxiously
+examining the buckle of his belt, to make sure that he had not
+increased in girth since his last meal. Voluntary Tantalus, he scarcely
+allowed himself enough to keep life in his attenuated frame, and if he
+had but fasted as carefully from motives of piety he would have been a
+full-fledged saint.
+
+The portly duenna disposed of solids and fluids perseveringly, and in
+formidable quantities, seeming to have an unlimited capacity; but
+Isabelle and Serafina had finished their supper long ago, and were
+yawning wearily behind their pretty, outspread hands, having no fans
+within reach, to conceal these pronounced symptoms of sleepiness.
+
+The baron, becoming aware of this state of things, said to them,
+“Mesdemoiselles, I perceive that you are very weary, and I wish with
+all my heart that I could offer you each a luxurious bed-chamber; but
+my house, like my family, has fallen into decay, and I can only give to
+you and Madame my own room. Fortunately the bed is very large, and you
+must make yourselves as comfortable as you can—for a single night you
+will not mind. As to the gentlemen, I must ask them to remain here with
+me, and try to sleep in the arm-chairs before the fire. I pray you,
+ladies, do not allow yourselves to be startled by the waving of the
+tapestry-which is only due to the strong draughts about the room on a
+stormy night like this—the moaning of the wind in the chimney, or the
+wild scurrying and squeaking of the mice behind the wainscot. I can
+guarantee that no ghosts will disturb you here, though this place does
+look dreary and dismal enough to be haunted.”
+
+“I am not a bit of a coward,” answered Serafina laughingly, “and will
+do my best to reassure this timid little Isabelle. As to our
+duenna,—she is something of a sorceress herself, and if the devil in
+person should make his appearance he would meet his match in her.”
+
+The baron then took a light in his hand and showed the three ladies the
+way into the bed-chamber, which certainly did strike them rather
+unpleasantly at first sight, and looked very eerie in the dim,
+flickering light of the one small lamp.
+
+“What a capital scene it would make for the fifth act of a tragedy,”
+said Serafina, as she looked curiously about her, while poor little
+Isabelle shivered with cold and terror. They all crept into bed without
+undressing, Isabelle begging to lie between Serafina and Mme. Léonarde,
+for she felt nervous and frightened. The other two fell asleep at once,
+but the timid young girl lay long awake, gazing with wide-open,
+straining eyes at the door that led into the shut-up apartments beyond,
+as if she dreaded its opening to admit some unknown horror. But it
+remained fast shut, and though all sorts of mysterious noises made her
+poor little heart flutter painfully, her eyelids closed at last, and
+she forgot her weariness and her fears in profound slumber.
+
+In the other room the pedant slept soundly, with his head on the table,
+and the tyrant opposite to him snored like a giant. Matamore had rolled
+himself up in a cloak and made himself as comfortable as possible under
+the circumstances in a large arm-chair, with his long, thin legs
+extended at full length, and his feet on the fender. Leander slept
+sitting bolt upright, so as not to disarrange his carefully brushed
+hair, and de Sigognac, who had taken possession of a vacant arm-chair,
+was too much agitated and excited by the events of the evening to be
+able to close his eyes. The coming of two beautiful, young women thus
+suddenly into his life—which had been hitherto so isolated, sad and
+dreary, entirely devoid of all the usual pursuits and pleasures of
+youth—could not fail to rouse him from his habitual apathy, and set his
+pulses beating after a new fashion. Incredible as it may seem yet it
+was quite true that our young hero had never had a single love affair.
+He was too proud, as we have already said, to take his rightful place
+among his equals, without any of the appurtenances suitable to his
+rank, and also too proud to associate familiarly with the surrounding
+peasantry, who accorded him as much respect in his poverty as they had
+ever shown to his ancestors in their prosperity. He had no near
+relatives to come to his assistance, and so lived on, neglected and
+forgotten, in his crumbling château, with nothing to look forward to or
+hope for. In the course of his solitary wanderings he had several times
+chanced to encounter the young and beautiful Yolande de Foix, following
+the hounds on her snow-white palfrey, in company with her father and a
+number of the young noblemen of the neighbourhood. This dazzling vision
+of beauty often haunted his dreams, but what possible relations could
+there ever be hoped for between the rich, courted heiress, whose
+suitors were legion, and his own poverty-stricken self? Far from
+seeking to attract her attention, he always got out of her sight as
+quickly as possible, lest his ill-fitting, shabby garments and
+miserable old pony should excite a laugh at his expense; for he was
+very sensitive, this poor young nobleman, and could not have borne the
+least approach to ridicule from the fair object of his secret and
+passionate admiration. He had tried his utmost to stifle the ardent
+emotions that filled his heart whenever his thoughts strayed to the
+beautiful Yolande, realizing how far above his reach she was, and he
+believed that he had succeeded; though there were times even yet when
+it all rushed back upon him with overwhelming force, like a huge tidal
+wave that sweeps everything before it.
+
+The night passed quietly at the château, without other incident than
+the fright of poor Isabelle, when Beelzebub, who had climbed up on the
+bed, as was his frequent custom, established himself comfortably upon
+her bosom; finding it a deliciously soft, warm resting-place, and
+obstinately resisting her frantic efforts to drive him away.
+
+As to de Sigognac, he did not once close his eyes. A vague project was
+gradually shaping itself in his mind, keeping him wakeful and
+perplexed. The advent of these strolling comedians appeared to him like
+a stroke of fate, an ambassador of fortune, to invite him to go out
+into the great world, away from this old feudal ruin, where his youth
+was passing in misery and inaction—to quit this dreary shade, and
+emerge into the light and life of the outer world.
+
+At last the gray light of the dawn came creeping in through the lattice
+windows, speedily followed by the first bright rays from the rising
+sun. The storm was over, and the glorious god of day rose triumphant in
+a perfectly clear sky. It was a strange group that he peeped in upon,
+where the old family portraits seemed looking down with haughty
+contempt upon the slumbering invaders of their dignified solitude. The
+_soubrette_ was the first to awake, starting up as a warm sunbeam shone
+caressingly full upon her face. She sprang to her feet, shook out her
+skirts, as a bird does its plumage, passed the palms of her hands
+lightly over her glossy bands of jet-black hair, and then seeing that
+the baron was quietly observing her, with eyes that showed no trace of
+drowsiness, she smiled radiantly upon him as she made a low and most
+graceful curtsey.
+
+“I am very sorry,” said de Sigognac, as he rose to acknowledge her
+salute, “that the ruinous condition of this château, which verily seems
+better fitted to receive phantoms than real living guests, would not
+permit me to offer you more comfortable accommodations. If I had been
+able to follow my inclinations, I should have lodged you in a luxurious
+chamber, where you could have reposed between fine linen sheets, under
+silken curtains, instead of resting uneasily in that worm-eaten old
+chair.”
+
+“Do not be sorry about anything, my lord, I pray you,” answered the
+_soubrette_ with another brilliant smile; “but for your kindness we
+should have been in far worse plight; forced to pass the night in the
+poor old chariot, stuck fast in the mud; exposed to the cutting wind
+and pelting rain. We should assuredly have found ourselves in wretched
+case this morning. Besides, this château which you speak of so
+disparagingly is magnificence itself in comparison with the miserable
+barns, open to the weather, in which we have sometimes been forced to
+spend the night, trying to sleep as best we might on bundles of straw,
+and making light of our misery to keep our courage up.”
+
+While the baron and the actress were exchanging civilities the pedant’s
+chair, unable to support his weight any longer, suddenly gave way under
+him, and he fell to the floor with a tremendous crash, which startled
+the whole company. In his fall he had mechanically seized hold of the
+table-cloth, and so brought nearly all the things upon it clattering
+down with him. He lay sprawling like a huge turtle in the midst of them
+until the tyrant, after rubbing his eyes and stretching his burly
+limbs, came to the rescue, and held out a helping hand, by aid of which
+the old actor managed with some difficulty to scramble to his feet.
+
+“Such an accident as that could never happen to Matamore,” said Hérode,
+with his resounding laugh; “he might fall into a spider’s web without
+breaking through it.”
+
+“That’s true,” retorted the shadow of a man, in his turn stretching his
+long attenuated limbs and yawning tremendously, “but then, you know,
+not everybody has the advantage of being a second Polyphemus, a
+mountain of flesh and bones, like you, or a big wine-barrel, like our
+friend Blazius there.”
+
+All this commotion had aroused Isabelle, Serafina and the duenna, who
+presently made their appearance. The two younger women, though a little
+pale and weary, yet looked very charming in the bright morning light.
+In de Sigognac’s eyes they appeared radiant, in spite of the shabbiness
+of their finery, which was far more apparent now than on the preceding
+evening. But what signify faded ribbons and dingy gowns when the
+wearers are fresh, young and beautiful? Besides, the baron’s eyes were
+so accustomed to dinginess that they were not capable of detecting such
+slight defects in the toilets of his fair guests, and he gazed with
+delight upon these bewitching creatures, enraptured with their grace
+and beauty. As to the duenna, she was both old and ugly, and had long
+ago accepted the inevitable with commendable resignation.
+
+As the ladies entered by one door, Pierre came in by the other,
+bringing more wood for the fire, and then proceeding to make the
+disordered room as tidy as he could. All the company now gathered round
+the cheerful blaze that was roaring up the chimney and sending out a
+warm glow that was an irresistible attraction in the chill of the early
+morning. Isabelle knelt down and stretched out the rosy palms of her
+pretty little hands as near to the flames as she dared, while Serafina
+stood behind and laid her hands caressingly on her shoulders, like an
+elder sister taking tender care of a younger one. Matamore stood on one
+leg like a huge heron, leaning against the corner of the carved
+chimney-piece, and seemed inclined to fall asleep again, while the
+pedant was vainly searching for a swallow of wine among the empty
+bottles.
+
+The baron meantime had held a hurried private consultation with Pierre
+as to the possibility of procuring a few eggs, or a fowl or two, at the
+nearest hamlet, so that he might give the travellers something to eat
+before their departure, and he bade the old servant be quick about it,
+for the chariot was to make an early start, as they had a long day’s
+journey before them.
+
+“I cannot let you go away fasting, though you will have rather a scanty
+breakfast I fear,” he said to his guests, “but it is better to have a
+poor one than none at all; and there is not an inn within six leagues
+of this where you could be sure of getting anything to eat. I will not
+make further apologies, for the condition of everything in this house
+shows you plainly enough that I am not rich; but as my poverty is
+mainly owing to the great expenditures made by my honoured ancestors in
+many wars for the defence of king and country, I do not need to be
+ashamed of it.”
+
+“No indeed, my lord,” answered Hérode in his deep, bass voice, “and
+many there be in these degenerate days who hold their heads very high
+because of their riches, who would not like to have to confess how they
+came in possession of them.”
+
+“What astonishes me,” interrupted Blazius, “is that such an
+accomplished young gentleman as your lordship seems to be should be
+willing to remain here in this isolated spot, where Fortune cannot
+reach you even if she would. You ought to go to Paris, the great
+capital of the world, the rendezvous of brave and learned men, the El
+Dorado, the promised land, the Paradise of all true Frenchmen. There
+you would be sure to make your way, either in attaching yourself to the
+household of some great nobleman, a friend of your family, or in
+performing some brilliant deed of valour, the opportunity for which
+will not be long to find.”
+
+These words, although rather high-flown, were not devoid of sense, and
+de Sigognac could not help secretly admitting that there was some truth
+in them. He had often, during his long rambles over the desolate
+Landes, thought wishfully of undertaking what the pedant had just
+proposed; but he had not money enough for the journey even, and he did
+not know where to look for more. Though brave and high-spirited, he was
+very sensitive, and feared a smile of derision more than a
+sword-thrust. He was not familiar with the prevailing fashions in
+dress, but he felt that his antiquated costume was ridiculous as well
+as shabby, and sure to be laughed at anywhere but among his own simple
+peasantry. Like most of those who are disheartened and crushed by
+extreme poverty, he only looked at the dark side of things, and made no
+allowance for any possible advantages. Perhaps he might have been
+delicately as well as generously assisted by some of his father’s old
+friends if he would only have let them know of his situation, but his
+pride held him back, and he would have died of starvation rather than
+ask for aid in any form.
+
+“I used to think sometimes of going to Paris,” he answered slowly,
+after some hesitation, “but I have no friends or even acquaintances
+there; and the descendants of those who perhaps knew my ancestors when
+they were rich and powerful, and in favour at court, could scarcely be
+expected to welcome a poverty-stricken Baron de Sigognac, who came
+swooping down from his ruined tower to try and snatch a share of any
+prey that chanced to lie within reach of his talons. And besides—I do
+not know why I should be ashamed to acknowledge it—I have not any of
+the appurtenances suitable to my rank, and could not present myself
+upon a footing worthy of my name. I doubt if I have even money enough
+for the expenses of the journey alone, and that in the humblest
+fashion.”
+
+“But it is not necessary,” Blazius hastened to reply, “that you should
+make a state entry into the capital, like a Roman emperor, in a gilded
+chariot drawn by four white horses abreast. If our humble equipage does
+not appear too unworthy to your lordship, come with us to Paris; we are
+on our way there now. Many a man shines there to-day in brave apparel,
+and enjoys high favour at court, who travelled thither on foot,
+carrying his little bundle over his shoulder, swung on the point of his
+rapier, and his shoes in his hand, for fear of wearing them out on the
+way.”
+
+A slight flush, partly of shame, partly of pleasure, rose to de
+Sigognac’s cheek at this speech. If on the one side his pride revolted
+at the idea of being under an obligation to such a person as the
+pedant, on the other he was touched and gratified by this kind
+proposition so frankly made, and which, moreover, accorded so well with
+his own secret desires. He feared also that if he refused the actor’s
+kindly-meant offer he would wound his feelings, and perhaps miss an
+opportunity that would never be afforded to him again. It is true that
+the idea of a descendant of the noble old house of Sigognac travelling
+in the chariot of a band of strolling players, and making common cause
+with them, was rather shocking at first sight, but surely it would be
+better than to go on any longer leading his miserable, hopeless life in
+this dismal, deserted place. He wavered between those two decisive
+little monosyllables, yes and no, and could by no means reach a
+satisfactory conclusion, when Isabelle, who had been watching the
+colloquy with breathless interest, advanced smilingly to where he was
+standing somewhat apart with Blazius, and addressed the following words
+to him, which speedily put an end to all his uncertainty:
+
+“Our poet, having fallen heir to a fortune, has lately left us, and his
+lordship would perhaps be good enough to take his place. I found
+accidentally, in opening a volume of Ronsard’s poems that lay upon the
+table in his room, a piece of paper with a sonnet written upon it,
+which must be of his composition, and proves him not unaccustomed to
+writing in verse. He could rearrange our parts for us, make the
+necessary alterations and additions in the new plays we undertake, and
+even perhaps write a piece for us now and then. I have now a very
+pretty little Italian comedy by me, which, with some slight
+modifications, would suit us nicely, and has a really charming part for
+me.”
+
+With her last words, accompanied though they were with a smile, she
+gave the baron such a sweet, wistful look that he could no longer
+resist; but the appearance of Pierre at this moment with a large
+omelette created a diversion, and interrupted this interesting
+conversation. They all immediately gathered round the table, and
+attacked the really good breakfast, which the old servant had somehow
+managed to put before them, with great zest. As to de Sigognac, he kept
+them company merely out of politeness, and trifled with what was on his
+plate while the others were eating, having partaken too heartily of the
+supper the night before to be hungry now, and, besides, being so much
+preoccupied with weightier matters that he was not able to pay much
+attention to this.
+
+After the meat was finished, and while the chariot was being made ready
+for a start, Isabelle and Serafina expressed a desire to go into the
+garden, which they looked down upon from the court.
+
+“I am afraid,” said de Sigognac, as he aided them to descend the
+unsteady, slippery stone steps, “that the briers will make sad work
+with your dresses, for thorns abound in my neglected garden, though
+roses do not.”
+
+The young baron said this in the sad, ironical tone he usually adopted
+when alluding to his poverty; but a moment after they suddenly came
+upon two exquisite little wild roses, blooming directly in their path.
+With an exclamation of surprise de Sigognac gathered them, and as he
+offered one to each lady, said, with a smile, “I did not know there was
+anything of this sort here, having never found aught but rank weeds and
+brambles before; it is your gracious presence that has brought forth
+these two blossoms in the midst of ruin and desolation.”
+
+Isabelle put her little rose carefully in the bosom of her dress,
+giving him her thanks mutely by an eloquent glance, which spoke more
+perhaps than she knew, and brought a flush of pleasure to his cheeks.
+They walked on to the statue in its rocky niche at the end of the
+garden, de Sigognac carefully bending back the branches that obstructed
+the way. The young girl looked round with a sort of tender interest at
+this overgrown, neglected spot, so thoroughly in keeping with the
+ruined château that frowned down upon them, and thought pityingly of
+the long, dreary hours that the poor baron must have spent here in
+solitude and despair. Serafina’s face only expressed a cold disdain,
+but slightly masked by politeness. To her mind the ruinous condition of
+things was anything but interesting, and though she dearly loved a
+title she had still greater respect for wealth and magnificence.
+
+“My domain ends here,” said the baron, as they reached the grotto of
+the statue, “though formerly all the surrounding country, as far as the
+eye can reach from the top of that high tower yonder, belonged to my
+ancestors. But barely enough remains now to afford me a shelter until
+the day comes when the last of the de Sigognacs shall be laid to rest
+amid his forefathers in the family vault, thenceforward their sole
+possession.”
+
+“Do you know you are very much out of spirits this morning?” said
+Isabelle in reply, touched by the expression of this sad thought that
+had occurred to her also, and assuming a bright, playful air, in the
+hope that it might help to chase away the heavy shadow that lay upon
+her young host’s brow. “Fortune is blind, they say, but nevertheless
+she does sometimes shower her good gifts upon the worthy and the brave;
+the only thing is that they must put themselves in her way. Come,
+decide to go with us, and perhaps in a few years the Château de
+Sigognac, restored to its ancient splendour, may loom up as proudly as
+of old; think of that, my lord, and take courage to quit it for a time.
+And besides,” she added in a lower tone that only de Sigognac could
+hear, “I cannot bear to go away and leave you here alone in this dreary
+place.”
+
+The soft light that shone in Isabelle’s beautiful eyes as she murmured
+these persuasive words was irresistible to the man who already loved
+her madly; and the idea of following his divinity in a humble disguise,
+as many a noble knight had done of old, reconciled him to what would
+otherwise have seemed too incongruous and humiliating. It could not be
+considered derogatory to any gentleman to accompany his lady-love, be
+she what she might, actress or princess, and to attach himself, for
+love of her bright eyes, to even a band of strolling players. The
+mischievous little boy of the bow had compelled even gods and heroes to
+submit to all sorts of odd tests and means. Jupiter himself took the
+form of a bull to carry off Europa, and swam across the sea with her
+upon his back to the island of Crete. Hercules, dressed as a woman, sat
+spinning meekly at Omphale’s feet. Even Aristotle went upon all fours
+that his mistress might ride on his back. What wonder then that our
+youthful baron thought that nothing could be too difficult or repulsive
+in the service of the lovely being at his side! So he decided at once
+not to let her leave him behind, and begging the comedians to wait a
+few moments while he made his hurried preparations, drew Pierre aside
+and told him in few words of his new project. The faithful old servant,
+although nearly heart-broken at the thought of parting with his beloved
+master, fully realized how greatly it would be to his advantage to quit
+the dreary life that was blighting his youth, and go out into the
+world; and while he felt keenly the incongruity of such fellow
+travellers for a de Sigognac, yet wisely thought that it was better for
+him to go thus than not at all. He quickly filled an old valise with
+the few articles of clothing that formed the baron’s scanty wardrobe,
+and put into a leathern purse the little money he still possessed;
+secretly adding thereto his own small hoard, which he could safely do
+without fear of detection, as he had the care of the family finances,
+as well as everything else about the establishment. The old white pony
+was brought out and saddled, for de Sigognac did not wish to get into
+the chariot until they had gone some distance from home, not caring to
+make his departure public. He would seem thus to be only accompanying
+his guests a little way upon their journey, and Pierre was to follow on
+foot to lead the horse back home.
+
+The oxen, great slow-moving, majestic creatures, were already harnessed
+to the heavy chariot, while their driver, a tall, sturdy peasant lad,
+standing in front of them leaning upon his goad, had unconsciously
+assumed an attitude so graceful that he closely resembled the
+sculptured figures in ancient Greek bas-reliefs. Isabelle and Serafina
+had seated themselves in the front of the chariot, so that they could
+enjoy the fresh, cool air, and see the country as they passed along;
+while the others bestowed themselves inside, where they might indulge
+in a morning nap. At last all were ready; the driver gave the word of
+command, and the oxen stepped slowly forward, setting in motion the
+great unwieldy, lumbering vehicle, which creaked and groaned in
+lamentable fashion, making the vaulted portico ring again as it passed
+through it and out of the château.
+
+In the midst of all this unwonted commotion, Beelzebub and Miraut moved
+restlessly about the court, evidently very much perplexed as to what
+could be the meaning of it. The old dog ran back and forth from his
+master, who always had a caress for him, to Pierre, looking up into
+their faces with questioning, anxious eyes, and Beelzebub finally went
+and held a consultation with his good friend, the old white pony, now
+standing with saddle and bridle on, quietly awaiting his master’s
+pleasure. He bent down his head so that his lips almost touched
+Beelzebub, and really appeared to be whispering something to him; which
+the cat in his turn imparted to Miraut, in that mysterious language of
+animals which Democritus, claimed that he understood, but which we are
+not able to translate. Whatever it might have been that Bayard, the old
+pony, communicated to Beelzebub, one thing is certain, that when at
+last the baron vaulted into his saddle and sallied forth from his
+ancient castle, he was accompanied by both cat and dog. Now, though it
+was no uncommon thing for Miraut to follow him abroad, Beelzebub had
+never been known to attempt such a feat before.
+
+As he rode slowly out through the grand old portico de Sigognac felt
+his heart heavy within him, and when, after going a few paces from the
+château, he turned round for one last look at its crumbling walls, he
+felt an acute grief at bidding them farewell which was an astonishment
+to himself. As his eyes sought and dwelt upon the roof of the little
+chapel where his father and mother lay sleeping side by side, he almost
+reproached himself for wishing to go and leave them, and it required a
+mighty effort to turn away and ride after the chariot, which was some
+distance in advance of him. He had soon overtaken and passed it, when a
+gentle gust of wind brought to him the penetrating, faintly aromatic
+scent of his native heather, still wet from last night’s rain, and also
+the silvery sound of a distant convent bell that was associated with
+his earliest recollections. They both seemed to be reproaching him for
+his desertion of his home, and he involuntarily checked the old pony,
+and made as if he would turn back. Miraut and Beelzebub, seeming to
+understand the movement, looked up at him eagerly, but as he was in the
+very act of turning the horse’s head he met Isabelle’s soft eyes fixed
+on him with such an entreating, wistful look that he flushed and
+trembled under it, and entirely forgetting his ancient château, the
+perfume of the heather, and the quick strokes of the distant bell, that
+still continued ringing, he put spurs to his horse and dashed on in
+advance again. The struggle was over—Isabelle had conquered.
+
+When the highway was reached, de Sigognac again fell behind the
+chariot—which moved more quickly over the smooth, hard road—so that
+Pierre might be able to catch up to him, and rode slowly forward, lost
+in thought; he roused himself, however, in time to take one last look
+at the towers of Sigognac, which were still visible over the tops of
+the pine trees. Bayard came to a full stop as he gazed, and Miraut took
+advantage of the pause to endeavour to climb up and lick his master’s
+face once more; but he was so old and stiff that de Sigognac had to
+lift him up in front of him; holding him there he tenderly caressed the
+faithful companion of many sad, lonely years, even bending down and
+kissing him between the eyes. Meantime the more agile Beelzebub had
+scrambled up on the other side, springing from the ground to the
+baron’s foot, and then climbing up by his leg; he purred loudly as his
+master affectionately stroked his head, looking up in his face as if he
+understood perfectly that this was a leave-taking. We trust that the
+kind reader will not laugh at our poor young hero, when we say that he
+was so deeply touched by these evidences of affection from his humble
+followers that two great tears rolled down his pale cheeks and fell
+upon the heads of his dumb favourites, before he put them gently from
+him and resumed his journey.
+
+Miraut and Beelzebub stood where he had put them down, looking after
+their beloved master until a turn in the road hid him from their sight,
+and then quietly returned to the château together. The rain of the
+previous night had left no traces in the sandy expanse of the Landes,
+save that it had freshened up the heather with its tiny purple bells,
+and the furze bushes with their bright yellow blossoms. The very pine
+trees themselves looked less dark and mournful than usual, and their
+penetrating, resinous odour filled the fresh morning air. Here and
+there a little column of smoke rising from amid a grove of chestnut
+trees betrayed the homestead of some farmer, and scattered over the
+gently rolling plain, that extended as far as the eye could reach,
+great flocks of sheep could be discerned, carefully guarded by shepherd
+and dog; the former mounted on stilts, and looking very odd to those
+unaccustomed to the shepherds of the Landes. On the southern horizon
+the snow-clad tops of the more lofty peaks of the Pyrenees rose boldly
+into the clear sky, with light wreaths of mist still clinging round
+them here and there.
+
+Oxen travel slowly, especially over roads where at times the wheels
+sink deep into the sand, and the sun was high above the horizon before
+they had gone two leagues on their way. The baron, loath to fatigue his
+old servant and poor Bayard, determined to bid adieu to them without
+further delay; so he sprang lightly to the ground, put the bridle into
+Pierre’s trembling hand, and affectionately stroked the old pony’s
+neck, as he never failed to do when he dismounted. It was a painful
+moment. The faithful servant had taken care of his young master from
+his infancy, and he turned very pale as he said in faltering tones,
+“God bless and keep your lordship. How I wish that I could go with
+you.”
+
+“And so do I, my good Pierre, but that is impossible. You must stay and
+take care of the château for me; I could not bear to think of it
+entirely abandoned, or in any other hands than yours, my faithful
+friend! And besides, what would become of Bayard and Miraut and
+Beelzebub, if you too deserted them?”
+
+“You are right, master,” answered Pierre, his eyes filling with tears
+as he bade him farewell before he turned and led Bayard slowly back by
+the road they had come. The old pony whinnied loudly as he left his
+master, and long after he was out of sight could be heard at short
+intervals calling out his adieux.
+
+The poor young baron, left quite alone, stood for a moment with
+downcast eyes, feeling very desolate and sad; then roused himself with
+an effort, and hastened after the chariot. As he walked along beside it
+with a sorrowful, preoccupied air, Isabelle complained of being tired
+of her somewhat cramped position, and said that she would like to get
+down and walk a little way for a change; her real motive being a kind
+wish to endeavour to cheer up poor de Sigognac and make him forget his
+sad thoughts. The shadow that had overspread his countenance passed
+away entirely as he assisted Isabelle to alight, and then offering his
+arm led her on in advance of the lumbering chariot. They had walked
+some distance, and she was just reciting some verses, from one of her
+parts, which she wished to have altered a little, when the sound of a
+horn close at hand startled them, and from a by-path emerged a gay
+party returning from the chase. The beautiful Yolande de Foix came
+first, radiant as Diana, with a brilliant colour in her cheeks and eyes
+that shone like stars. Several long rents in the velvet skirt of her
+riding habit showed that she had been following the hounds through the
+thickets of furze that abound in the Landes, yet she did not look in
+the least fatigued, and as she came forward made her spirited horse
+fret and prance under quick, light strokes of her riding-whip—in whose
+handle shone a magnificent amethyst set in massive gold, and engraved
+with the de Foix arms. Three or four young noblemen, splendidly dressed
+and mounted, were with her, and as she swept proudly past our hero and
+his fair companion-upon whom she cast a glance of haughty disdain—she
+said in clear ringing tones, “Do look at the Baron de Sigognac, dancing
+attendance upon a _Bohémienne_.” And the little company passed on with
+a shout of laughter.
+
+The poor baron was furious, and instinctively grasped the handle of his
+sword with a quick, angry movement; but as quickly released it—for he
+was on foot and those who had insulted him were on horseback, so that
+he could not hope to overtake them; and besides, he could not challenge
+a lady. But the angry flush soon faded from his cheek, and the
+remembrance of his displeasure from his mind, under the gentle
+influence of Isabelle, who put forth all her powers of fascination to
+make her companion forget the affront he had received because of her.
+
+The day passed without any other incident worthy of being recorded, and
+our travellers arrived in good season at the inn where they were to sup
+and sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+THE BLUE SUN INN
+
+
+It was in front of the largest house in a wretched little hamlet that
+the weary oxen drawing the chariot of Thespis stopped of their own
+accord. The wooden sign that creaked distractingly as it swung to and
+fro at every breath of wind bore a large, blue sun, darting its rays,
+after the most approved fashion, to the utmost dimensions of the board
+on which it was painted. Rather an original idea, one would say, to
+have a blue orb of day instead of a golden one—such as adorned so many
+other inns on the great post-road—but originality had had nothing
+whatever to do with it. The wandering painter who produced this
+remarkable work of art happened to have no vestige of any colour but
+blue left upon his palette, and he discoursed so eloquently of the
+superiority of this tint to all others that he succeeded in persuading
+the worthy innkeeper to have an azure sun depicted on his swinging
+sign. And not this one alone had yielded to his specious arguments, for
+he had painted blue lions, blue cocks, blue horses, on various signs in
+the country round, in a manner that would have delighted the
+Chinese—who esteem an artist in proportion to the unnaturalness of his
+designs and colouring.
+
+The few scrawny, unwholesome-looking children feebly playing in the
+muddy, filthy, little street, and the prematurely old, ghastly women
+standing at the open doors of the miserable thatched huts of which the
+hamlet was composed, were but too evidently the wretched victims of a
+severe type of malarial fever that prevails in the Landes. They were
+truly piteous objects, and our travellers were glad to take refuge in
+the inn—though it was anything but inviting—and so get out of sight of
+them.
+
+The landlord, a villainous looking fellow, with an ugly crimson scar
+across his forehead, who rejoiced in the extraordinary name of
+Chirriguirri, received them with many low obeisances, and led the way
+into his house, talking volubly of the excellent accommodations to be
+found therein.
+
+The Baron de Sigognac hesitated ere he crossed the threshold, though
+the comedians had all drawn back respectfully to allow him to precede
+them. His pride revolted at going into such a place in such company,
+but one glance from Isabelle put everything else out of his head, and
+he entered the dirty little inn at her side with an air of joyful
+alacrity. In the happy kingdom of France the fortunate man who escorted
+a pretty woman, no matter where, needed not to fear ridicule or
+contumely, and was sure to be envied.
+
+The large low room into which Maître Chirriguirri ushered the party,
+with much ceremony and many bows, was scarcely so magnificent as he had
+given them reason to expect, but our strolling players had long ago
+learned to take whatever came in their way without grumbling, and they
+seated themselves quietly on the rude wooden settles ranged round a
+rough, stone platform in the centre of the apartment, upon which a few
+sticks of wood were blazing the smoke escaping through an opening in
+the roof above. From an iron bar which crossed this opening a strong
+chain was suspended, and fastened to it was the crane, so that it hung
+at the proper height over the fire—for this was the kitchen as well as
+the reception room. The low ceiling was blackened with the smoke that
+filled the upper part of the room and escaped slowly through the hole
+over the fire, unless a puff of wind drove it back again. A row of
+bright copper _casseroles_ hanging against the wall—like the burnished
+shields along the sides of the ancient triremes, if this comparison be
+not too noble for such a lowly subject—gleamed vaguely in the flashing
+of the red fire-light, and a large, half-empty wine-skin lying on the
+floor in one corner looked like a beheaded body carelessly flung down
+there. Certainly not a cheerful looking place, but, the fire being
+newly replenished burned brightly, and our weary travellers were glad
+to bask in its genial warmth.
+
+At the end of one of the wooden benches a little girl was sitting,
+apparently sound asleep. She was a poor, thin, little creature, with a
+mass of long, tangled, black hair, which hung down over her face and
+almost concealed it, as she sat with her head drooping forward on her
+breast. Her scanty clothing was tattered and dirty, her feet and poor,
+thin, little legs brown and bare, and covered with scratches—some still
+bleeding which bore witness to much running through the thorny furze
+thickets.
+
+Isabelle, who chanced to sit down near her, cast many pitying glances
+upon this forlorn little figure, but took care not to disturb the quiet
+sleep she seemed to be enjoying in her uncomfortable resting-place.
+After a little, when she had turned to speak to Serafina, who sat
+beside her, the child woke with a start, and pushing back the mass of
+dishevelled hair revealed a sad little face, so thin that the cheek
+bones were painfully prominent, and pale to ghastliness. A pair of
+magnificent, dark brown eyes, with heavy sweeping lashes, looked
+preternaturally large in her woe-begone little countenance, and at this
+moment were filled with wondering admiration, mingled with fierce
+covetousness, as she stared at Serafina’s mock jewels—and more
+especially at Isabelle’s row of pearl beads. She seemed fairly dazzled
+by these latter, and gazed at them fixedly in a sort of ecstasy—having
+evidently never seen anything like them before, and probably thinking
+they must be of immense value. Occasionally her eyes wandered to the
+dresses of the two ladies, and at last, unable to restrain her ardent
+curiosity any longer, she put out her little brown hand and softly felt
+of Isabelle’s gown, apparently finding exquisite delight in the mere
+contact of her finger-tips with the smooth, glossy surface of the silk.
+Though her touch was so light Isabelle immediately turned towards the
+child and smiled upon her encouragingly, but the poor little vagabond,
+finding herself detected, in an instant had assumed a stupid, almost
+idiotic look—with an instinctive amount of histrionic art that would
+have done honour to a finished actress. Then dropping her eyelids and
+leaning her shoulders against the hard back of the wooden settle she
+seemed to fall into a deep sleep, with her head bent down upon her
+breast in the old attitude.
+
+Meanwhile Maître Chirriguirri had been talking long and loudly about
+the choice delicacies he could have set before his guests if they had
+only come a day or two earlier, and enumerating all sorts of fine
+dishes—which doubtless had existed only in his own very vivid
+imagination—though he told a high-sounding story about the noblemen and
+grandees who had supped at his house and devoured all these dainties
+only yesterday. When at length the flow of his eloquence was checked by
+a display of ferocity on the part of the tyrant, and he was finally
+brought to the point, he acknowledged that he could only give them some
+of the soup called garbure—with which we have already made acquaintance
+at the Château de Sigognac, some salt codfish, and a dish of bacon;
+with plenty of wine, which according to his account was fit for the
+gods. Our weary travellers were so hungry by this time that they were
+glad of even this frugal fare, and when Mionnette, a gaunt,
+morose-looking creature, the only servant that the inn could boast,
+announced that their supper was ready in an adjoining room, they did
+not wait to be summoned a second time.
+
+They were still at table when a great barking of dogs was heard
+without, together with the noise of horses’ feet, and in a moment three
+loud, impatient knocks upon the outer door resounded through the house.
+Mionnette rushed to open it, whereupon a gentleman entered, followed by
+a number of dogs, who nearly knocked the tall maid-servant over in
+their eagerness to get in, and rushed into the dining-room where our
+friends were assembled, barking, jumping over each other, and licking
+off the plates that had been used and removed to a low side table,
+before their master could stop them. A few sharp cuts with the whip he
+held in his hand distributed promiscuously among them, without
+distinction between the innocent and the guilty ones, quieted this
+uproar as if by magic, and the aggressive hounds, taking refuge under
+the benches ranged along the walls, curled themselves round on the
+floor and went comfortably to sleep, or lay panting, with their red
+tongues hanging out of their mouths and heads reposing on their
+fore-paws—not daring to stir.
+
+The obstreperous dogs thus disposed of, the cavalier advanced into the
+room, with the calm assurance of a man who feels perfectly at his ease;
+his spurs ringing against the stone floor at every step. The landlord
+followed him obsequiously, cap in hand, cringing and bowing in most
+humble fashion—having entirely laid aside his boasting air and
+evidently feeling very ill at ease—this being a personage of whom he
+stood in awe. As the gentleman approached the table he politely saluted
+the company, before turning to give his orders to Maître Chirriguirri,
+who stood silently awaiting them.
+
+The newcomer was a handsome man of about thirty, with curly light hair,
+and a fair complexion, somewhat reddened by exposure to the sun. His
+eyes were blue, and rather prominent, his nose slightly retroussi; his
+small blond mustache was carefully turned up at the ends, and scarcely
+shaded a well-formed but sensual mouth, below which was a small,
+pointed beard—called a royal in those days, an imperial in these. As he
+took off his broad felt hat, richly ornamented with long sweeping
+plumes, and threw it carelessly down on one of the benches, it was seen
+that his smooth, broad forehead was snowy white, and the contrast with
+his sunburnt cheeks was not by any means displeasing. Indeed it was a
+very handsome, attractive face, in which an expression of frank gaiety
+and good humour tempered the air of pride that pervaded it.
+
+The dress of this gay cavalier was extremely rich and elegant; almost
+too much so for the country. But when we say that the marquis—for such
+was his title—had been following the hounds in company with the
+beautiful Yolande de Foix, we feel that his costume, of blue velvet
+elaborately decorated with silver braid, is fully accounted for. He was
+one of the gallants that shone at court in Paris—where he was in the
+habit of spending a large portion of every year—and he prided himself
+on being one of the best dressed noblemen in France.
+
+His order to the obsequious landlord was in few words. “I want some
+broth for my dogs, some oats for my horses, a piece of bread and a
+slice of ham for myself, and something or other for my grooms”—and then
+he advanced smilingly to the table and sat down in a vacant place
+beside the pretty _soubrette_, who, charmed with such a gay, handsome
+seignior, had been pleased to bestow a languishing glance and a
+brilliant smile upon him.
+
+Maître Chirriguirri hastened to fetch what he had demanded, while the
+_soubrette_, with the grace of a Hebe, filled his glass to the brim
+with wine; which he accepted with a smile, and drank off at a single
+draught. For a few minutes he was fully occupied in satisfying his
+hunger—which was veritably that of a hunter—and then looking about him
+at the party assembled round the table, remarked the Baron de Sigognac,
+with whom he had a slight acquaintance, seated beside the fair
+Isabelle—in whose company indeed he had seen him already once before
+that day. The two young people were talking together in low tones, and
+quite absorbed in each other; but the language of their eyes was
+unmistakable, and the marquis smiled to himself as he took note of what
+he supposed to be a very promising intrigue—wherein he did the youthful
+pair great injustice. As a thorough man of the world he was not at all
+surprised at finding de Sigognac with this band of vagabond players,
+from such a motive, and the half-pitying contempt he had formerly felt
+for the shabby, retiring young baron was straightway changed to a
+certain admiration and respect by this evidence of his gallantry. When
+he caught his eye he made a little gesture of recognition and
+approval—to show that he understood and appreciated his position—but
+paid no further attention to him, evidently meaning to respect his
+incognito, and devoted himself to the _soubrette_. She received his
+high-flown compliments with peals of laughter, and paid him back in his
+own coin with considerable wit and much merriment, to the great delight
+of the marquis—who was always delighted to meet with any adventure of
+this sort.
+
+Wishing to pursue this one, which opened so well, he declared loudly
+that he was passionately fond of the theatre, and complained
+pathetically of being deprived altogether of this, his favourite
+amusement, in the country; then addressing himself to the tyrant he
+asked whether the troupe had any pressing engagements that would
+prevent their turning aside a little from the usual route to visit the
+Château de Bruyères and give one of their best plays there—it would be
+an easy matter to rig up a theatre for them in the great hall or the
+orangery.
+
+The tyrant hastened to reply that nothing could be easier, and that the
+troupe, one of the best that had ever travelled through the provinces,
+was entirely at his lordship’s disposition—“from the king to the
+_soubrette_”—he added, with a broad grin.
+
+“That is capital,” said the marquis, “and as to money matters, you can
+arrange them to suit yourself. I should not think of bargaining with
+the votaries of Thalia—a muse so highly favoured by Apollo, and as
+eagerly sought after, and enthusiastically applauded, at the court of
+his most gracious majesty as in town and country everywhere.”
+
+After arranging the necessary preliminaries, the marquis, who had
+meantime surreptitiously squeezed the _soubrette’s_ hand under the
+table, rose, called his dogs together, put on his hat, waved his hand
+to the company in token of adieu, and took his departure amid much
+barking and commotion—going directly home, in order to set on foot his
+preparations to receive the comedians on the morrow at his château.
+
+As it was growing late, and they were to make an early start the next
+morning, our tired travellers lost no time in going to rest; the women
+in a sort of loft, where they had to make themselves as comfortable as
+they could with the bundles of straw that were to serve them for beds,
+whilst the men slept on the benches in the room where they had supped.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+AN ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS
+
+
+Let us return now to the little girl we left feigning to sleep soundly
+upon a settle in the kitchen. There was certainly something suspicious
+about the fierce way in which she eyed Isabelle’s pearl necklace, and
+her little bit of clever acting afterwards. As soon as the door had
+closed upon the comedians she slowly opened her large, dark eyes,
+looked sharply round the great, dim kitchen, and when she found that
+nobody was watching her, slipped quietly down from the bench, threw
+back her hair with a quick movement of the head peculiar to her, crept
+softly to the door, which she cautiously unlatched, and escaped into
+the open air without making any more sound than a shadow, then walked
+slowly and listlessly away until she had turned a corner and was out of
+sight of the house, when she set off running as fleetly as a deer
+pursued by the hounds—jumping over the frequent obstacles in her path
+with wonderful agility, never stumbling, and flying along, with her
+black hair streaming out behind her, like some wild creature of the
+desolate pine barrens through which she was skilfully threading her
+way.
+
+She reached at last a little knoll, crowned by a group of pine trees
+crowded closely together, and dashing up the steep bank with
+undiminished speed came to a sudden stop in the very middle of the
+grove. Here she stood still for a moment, peering anxiously about her,
+and then, putting two fingers in her mouth, gave three shrill whistles,
+such as no traveller in those desolate regions can hear without a
+shudder. In an instant what seemed to be a heap of pine twigs stirred,
+and a man emerging from beneath them rose slowly to his feet at a
+little distance from the child.
+
+“Is it you, Chiquita?” he asked. “What news do you bring? You are late.
+I had given over expecting you to-night, and gone to sleep.”
+
+The speaker was a dark, fierce-looking fellow of about five and twenty,
+with a spare, wiry frame, brilliant black eyes, and very white
+teeth—which were long and pointed like the fangs of a young wolf. He
+looked as if he might be a brigand, poacher, smuggler, thief, or
+assassin—all of which he had been indeed by turns. He was dressed like
+a Spanish peasant, and in the red woollen girdle wound several times
+around his waist was stuck a formidable knife, called in Spain a
+_navaja_. The desperadoes who make use of these terrible weapons
+usually display as many red stripes, cut in the steel, upon their long
+pointed blades as they have committed murders, and are esteemed by
+their companions in proportion to the number indicated by this horrible
+record. We do not know exactly how many of these scarlet grooves
+adorned Agostino’s _navaja_, but judging by the savage expression of
+his countenance, and the fierce glitter of his eye, we may safely
+suppose them to have been creditably numerous.
+
+“Well, Chiquita,” said he, laying his hand caressingly on the child’s
+head, “and what did you see at Maître Chirriguirri’s inn?”
+
+“A great chariot full of people came there this afternoon,” she
+answered. “I saw them carry five large chests into the barn, and they
+must have been very heavy, for it took two men to lift them.”
+
+“Hum!” said Agostino, “sometimes travellers put stones into their boxes
+to make them seem very weighty and valuable, and deceive the
+inn-keepers.”
+
+“But,” interrupted the child eagerly, “the three young ladies had
+trimmings of gold on their clothes; and one of them, the prettiest, had
+round her neck a row of round, shining, white things, and oh! they were
+so beautiful!” and she clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration,
+her voice trembling with excitement.
+
+“Those must be pearls,” muttered Agostino to himself, “and they will be
+worth having—provided they are real—but then they do make such perfect
+imitations now-a-days, and even rich people are mean enough to wear
+them.”
+
+“My dear Agostino, my good Agostino,” continued Chiquita, in her most
+coaxing tones, and without paying any attention to his mutterings,
+“will you give me the beautiful, shining things if you kill that lady?”
+
+“They would go so well with your rags and tatters!” he answered
+mockingly.
+
+“But I have so often kept watch for you while you slept, and I have run
+so far to tell you when any one was coming, no matter how cold it was,
+nor how my poor, bare feet ached—and I have never once kept you waiting
+for your food, when I used to carry it to you in your hiding places,
+even when I was bad with the fever, or my teeth chattering with the
+chill, and I so weak that I could hardly drag myself along. Oh
+Agostino! do remember what I have done for you, and let me have the
+beautiful, shining things.”
+
+“Yes, you have been both brave and faithful, Chiquita, I admit; but we
+have not got the wonderful necklace yet, you know. Now, tell me, how
+many men were there in the party.”
+
+“Oh! a great many. A big, tall man with a long beard; an old, fat
+man—one that looked like a fox—two thin men, and one that looked like a
+gentleman, though his clothes were very old and shabby.”
+
+“Six men,” said Agostino, who had counted them on his fingers as she
+enumerated them, and his face fell. “Alas! I am the only one left of
+our brave band now; when the others were with me we would not have
+minded double the number. Have they arms, Chiquita?”
+
+“The gentleman has a sword, and so has the tall, thin man—a very long
+one.”
+
+“No pistols or guns?”
+
+“I didn’t see any,” answered Chiquita, “but they might have left them
+in the chariot, you know; only Maître Chirriguirri or Mionnette would
+have been sure to send you word if they had, and they said nothing to
+me about them.”
+
+“Well, we will risk it then, and see what we can do,” said Agostino
+resolutely. “Five large, heavy chests, gold ornaments, a pearl
+necklace! they certainly are worth trying for.”
+
+The brigand and his little companion then went to a secret place in the
+thick pine grove, and set to work industriously, removing a few large
+stones, a quantity of branches, and finally the five or six boards they
+had concealed, disclosing a large hole that looked like a grave. It was
+not very deep, and Agostino, jumping down into it, stooped and lifted
+out what seemed to be a dead body—dressed in its usual every-day
+clothes—which he flung down upon the ground beside the hole. Chiquita,
+who did not appear to be in the least agitated or alarmed by these
+mysterious proceedings, seized the figure by the feet, with the utmost
+_sang-froid_, and dragged it out of Agostino’s way, with a much greater
+degree of strength than could have been expected from such a slight,
+delicate little creature. Agostino continued his work of exhumation
+until five other bodies lay beside the first one—all neatly arranged in
+a row by the little girl, who seemed to actually enjoy her lugubrious
+task. It made a strange picture in the weird light of the nearly full
+moon, half veiled by driving clouds—the open grave, the bodies lying
+side by side under the dark pine trees, and the figures of Agostino and
+Chiquita bending over them. But the tragic aspect of the affair soon
+changed to a comic one; for when Agostino placed the first of the
+bodies in an upright position it became apparent that it was only a
+sort of a scarecrow—a rude figure intended to frighten timid
+traveller—which being skilfully disposed at the edge of the grove,
+partly hidden among the trees, looked at a little distance exactly like
+a brigand—gun and all. Indeed it really was dressed in the garments of
+one of his old comrades, who had paid the penalty of his crimes on the
+gallows. He apostrophized the figure as he arranged it to his liking,
+calling it by name, relating some of the brave deeds of its prototype,
+and bewailing the sad fate that had left him to ply his nefarious trade
+single-handed, with a rude eloquence that was not wanting in pathos.
+Returning to where the others lay, he lifted up one which he reminded
+Chiquita, represented her father—whose valour and skill he eulogized
+warmly—whilst the child devoutly made the sign of the cross as she
+muttered a prayer. This one being put in position, he carried the
+remaining figures, one by one, to the places marked for them, keeping
+up a running commentary upon the ci-devant brigands whose
+representatives they were, and calling them each repeatedly by name, as
+if there were a certain sad satisfaction in addressing them in the old,
+familiar way.
+
+When this queer task was completed, the bandit and his faithful little
+companion, taking advantage of a flood of moonlight as the clouds
+drifted away before the wind, went and stood on the road—not very far
+from their retreat—by which our travellers were to pass, to judge of
+the effect of their group of brigands. It was really very formidable,
+and had often been of great service to the bold originator of the plan;
+for on seeing so numerous a band apparently advancing upon them, most
+travellers took to their heels, leaving the coveted spoils behind them
+for Agostino to gather up at his leisure.
+
+As they slowly returned to the pine grove he said to the child, who was
+clinging to his arm affectionately as she walked beside him, “The first
+stage of their journey to-morrow is a long one, and these people will
+be sure to start in good season, so that they will reach this spot just
+at the right time for us—in the uncertain light of the dawn. In the
+darkness of night our brigands yonder could not be seen, and in broad
+daylight the ruse would be apparent; so we are in luck, Chiquita! But
+now for a nap—we have plenty of time for it, and the creaking of the
+wheels will be sure to wake us.” Accordingly Agostino threw himself
+down upon a little heap of pine branches and heather, Chiquita crept
+close to him, so that the large cloak with which he had covered himself
+might protect her also from the chilly night air, and both were soon
+sound asleep.
+
+It was so early when our travellers were roused from their slumbers and
+told that it was time for them to resume their journey, by the
+treacherous landlord of the Blue Sun Inn, that it seemed to them like
+the middle of the night; to they arranged themselves as comfortably as
+they could in the great, roomy chariot, and despite the loud creaking
+and groaning that accompanied its every movement as it went slowly
+lumbering along, and the shrill cries of the driver to his oxen, they
+were all soon asleep again, excepting de Sigognac, who walked beside
+the chariot, lost in thoughts of Isabelle’s beauty, grace and modesty,
+and adorable goodness, which seemed better suited to a young lady of
+noble birth than a wandering actress. He tormented himself with trying
+to devise some means to induce her to reciprocate the ardent love that
+filled his heart for her, not for an instant suspecting that it was
+already a _fait accompli_, and that the sweet, pure maiden had given
+him, unasked, her gentle, faithful heart. The bashful young baron
+imagined all sorts of romantic and perilous incidents in which he might
+constitute himself her knight and protector, and show such brave and
+tender devotion to her as he had read of in the old books of chivalry;
+and which might lead up to the avowal he was burning to make, yet dared
+not. It never occurred to him that the look in his dark eyes whenever
+they rested on her face, the tone of his voice when he addressed her,
+the deep sighs he vainly sought to stifle, and the tender, eager care
+with which he strove to anticipate her every wish had spoken for him,
+as plainly as any words could do; and that, though he had not dared to
+breathe one syllable of his passionate love to Isabelle, she knew it,
+rejoiced in it, and was proud of it, and that it filled her with a
+delicious, rapturous joy, such as she had never felt before, or even
+dreamed of.
+
+The morning began to break—the narrow band of pale light on the
+horizon, which was growing rapidly brighter and assuming a rosy tinge,
+was reflected here and there in the little pools of water that shone
+like bits of a broken mirror scattered over the ground—distant sounds
+were heard, and columns of smoke rising into the still morning air
+proved that even in this desolate, God-forsaken part of the Landes
+there were human habitations to be found. Stalking along with giant
+strides on the highest part of some rising ground not very far off was
+a grotesque figure, clearly defined against the bright eastern sky,
+which would have been a puzzle to a stranger, but was a familiar sight
+to de Sigognac—a shepherd mounted on his high stilts, such as are to be
+met with everywhere throughout the Landes.
+
+But the young baron was too much absorbed in his own engrossing
+thoughts to take any note of his surroundings as he kept pace with the
+slow-moving chariot, until his eye was caught and his attention fixed
+by a strange little point of light, glittering among the sombre pines
+that formed the dense grove where we left Agostino and Chiquita
+sleeping. He wondered what it could be—certainly not a glow-worm, the
+season for them was past long ago—and he watched it as he advanced
+towards it with a vague feeling of uneasiness. Approaching nearer he
+caught a glimpse of the singular group of figures lurking among the
+trees, and at first feared an ambuscade; but finding that they
+continued perfectly motionless he concluded that he must have been
+mistaken, and that they were only old stumps after all; so he forbore
+to arouse the comedians, as he had for a moment thought of doing.
+
+A few steps farther and suddenly a loud report was heard from the
+grove, a bullet sped through the air, and struck the oxen’s
+yoke—happily without doing any damage, further than causing the usually
+quiet, steady-going beasts to swerve violently to one side—when
+fortunately a considerable heap of sand prevented the chariot’s being
+overturned into the ditch beside the road. The sharp report and violent
+shock startled the sleeping travellers in the chariot, and the younger
+women shrieked wildly in their terror, whilst the duenna, who had met
+with such adventures before, slipped the few gold pieces she had in her
+purse into her shoe. Beside the chariot, from which the actors were
+struggling to extricate themselves, stood Agostino—his cloak wrapped
+around his left arm and the formidable _navaja_ in his right hand-and
+cried in a voice of thunder, “Your money or your lives! Resistance is
+useless! At the first sign of it my band will fire upon you.”
+
+Whilst the bandit was shouting out these terrible words, de Sigognac
+had quietly drawn his sword, and as he finished attacked him furiously.
+Agostino skilfully parried his thrusts, with the cloak on his left arm,
+which so disposed made an excellent shield, and watched his opportunity
+to give a murderous stab with his _navaja_, which indeed he almost
+succeeded in doing; a quick spring to one side alone saved the baron
+from a wound which must have been fatal, as the brigand threw the knife
+at him with tremendous force, and it flew through the air and fell
+ringing upon the ground at a marvellous distance, instead of piercing
+de Sigognac’s heart. His antagonist turned pale, for he was quite
+defenceless, having depended entirely upon his trusty _navaja_, which
+had never failed him before, and he very well knew that his vaunted
+band could not come to his rescue. However, he shouted to them to fire,
+counting upon the sudden terror that command would inspire to deliver
+him from his dilemma; and, indeed, the comedians, expecting a
+broadside, did take refuge behind the chariot, whilst even our brave
+hero involuntarily bent his head a little, to avoid the shower of
+bullets.
+
+Meantime Chiquita, who had breathlessly watched all that passed from
+her hiding place among some furze bushes close at hand, when she saw
+her friend in peril, crept softly forth, glided along on the ground
+like a snake until she reached the knife, lying unnoticed where it had
+fallen, and, seizing it, in one instant had restored it to Agostino,
+She looked like a little fury as she did so, and if her strength had
+been equal to her ferocity she would have been a formidable foe.
+
+Agostino again aimed his _navaja_ at the baron, who was at that moment
+off his guard, and would not perhaps have escaped the deadly weapon a
+second time if it had been hurled at him from that skilful hand, but
+that a grasp of iron fastened upon the desperado’s wrist, just in time
+to defeat his purpose. He strove in vain to extricate his right arm
+from the powerful grip that held it like a vice—struggling violently,
+and writhing with the pain it caused him—but he dared not turn upon
+this new assailant, who was behind him, because de Sigognac would have
+surely scored his back for him; and he was forced to continue parrying
+his thrusts with his left arm, still protected by the ample cloak
+firmly wound around it. He soon discovered that he could not possibly
+free his right hand, and the agony became so great that his fingers
+could no longer keep their grasp of the knife, which fell a second time
+to the ground.
+
+It was the tyrant who had come to de Sigognac’s rescue, and now
+suddenly roared out in his stentorian voice, “What the deuce is nipping
+me? Is it a viper? I felt two sharp fangs meet in the calf of my leg.”
+
+It was Chiquita, who was biting his leg like a dog, in the vain hope of
+making him turn round and loose his hold upon Agostino; but the tyrant
+shook her off with a quick movement, that sent her rolling in the dust
+at some distance, without relinquishing his captive, whilst Matamore
+dashed forward and picked up the _navaja_, which he shut together and
+put into his pocket.
+
+Whilst this scene was enacting the sun had risen, and poured a flood of
+radiance upon the earth in which the sham brigands lost much of their
+life-like effect. “Ha, ha!” laughed the peasant, “it would appear that
+those gentlemen’s guns take a long time to go off; they must be wet
+with dew. But whatever may be the matter with them they are miserable
+cowards, to stand still there at a safe distance and leave their chief
+to do all the fighting by himself.”
+
+“There is a good reason for that,” answered Matamore, as he climbed up
+the steep bank to them, “these are nothing but scarecrows.” And with
+six vigorous kicks he sent the six absurd figures rolling in every
+direction, making the most comical gestures as they fell.
+
+“You may safely alight now, ladies,” said the baron, reassuringly, to
+the trembling actresses, “there’s nothing more to fear; it was only a
+sham battle after all.”
+
+In despair at his overwhelming defeat, Agostino hung his head
+mournfully, and stood like a statue of grief, dreading lest worse still
+should befall him, if the comedians, who were in too great force for
+him to attempt to struggle any longer against them, decided to take him
+on to the next town and deliver him over to the jailor to be locked up,
+as indeed he richly deserved. His faithful little friend, Chiquita,
+stood motionless at his side, as downcast as himself. But the farce of
+the false brigands so tickled the fancy of the players that it seemed
+as if they never would have done laughing over it, and they were
+evidently inclined to deal leniently with the ingenious rascal who had
+devised it. The tyrant, who had loosened, but not quitted, his hold
+upon the bandit, assumed his most tragic air and voice, and said to
+him, “You have frightened these ladies almost to death, you scoundrel,
+and you richly deserve to be strung up for it; but if, as I believe,
+they will consent to pardon you—for they are very kind and good—-I will
+not take you to the lock-up. I confess that I do not care to furnish a
+subject for the gallows. Besides, your stratagem is really very
+ingenious and amusing—a capital farce to play at the expense of
+cowardly travellers—who have doubtless paid you well for the
+entertainment, eh? As an actor, I appreciate the joke, and your
+ingenuity inclines me to be indulgent. You are not simply and brutally
+a robber, and it would certainly be a pity to cut short such a fine
+career.”
+
+“Alas!” answered Agostino mournfully, “no other career is open to me,
+and I am more to be pitied than you suppose. I am the only one left of
+a band formerly as complete as yours; the executioner has deprived me
+of my brave comrades one by one, and now I am obliged to carry on my
+operations entirely alone—dressing up my scarecrows, as your friend
+calls them, and assuming different voices to make believe that I am
+supported by a numerous company. Ah! mine is a sad fate; and then my
+road is such a poor one—so few travellers come this way—and I have not
+the means to purchase a better one. Every good road is owned by a band
+of brigands, you know. I wish that I could get some honest work to do,
+but that is hopeless; who would employ such a looking fellow as I am?
+all in rags and tatters, worse than the poorest beggar. I must surely
+have been born under an unlucky star. And now this attempt has failed,
+from which I hoped to get enough to keep us for two months, and buy a
+decent cloak for poor Chiquita besides; she needs it badly enough, poor
+thing! Yesterday I had nothing to eat, and I had to tighten my belt to
+sustain my empty stomach. Your unexpected resistance has taken the very
+bread out of my mouth; and since you would not let me rob you, at least
+be generous and give me something.”
+
+“To be sure,” said the tyrant, who was greatly amused; “as we have
+prevented your successfully plying your trade we certainly do owe you
+an indemnity. Here, take these two _pistoles_ to drink our healths
+with.”
+
+Isabelle meantime sought in the chariot for a piece of new woollen
+stuff she happened to have with her, which was soft and warm, and gave
+it to Chiquita, who exclaimed, “Oh! but it is the necklace of shining
+white things that I want.”
+
+Kind Isabelle immediately unclasped it, and then fastened it round the
+slender neck of the child, who was so overwhelmed with delight that she
+could not speak. She silently rolled the smooth, white beads between
+her little brown fingers in a sort of mute ecstasy for a few moments,
+then suddenly raising her head and tossing back her thick black hair,
+she fixed her sparkling eyes on Isabelle, and said in a low, earnest
+voice, “Oh! you are very, very good, and I will never, never kill you.”
+Then she ran swiftly back to the pine grove, clambered up the steep
+bank, and sat down to admire and enjoy her treasure. As to Agostino,
+after making his best bow, and thanking the tyrant for his really
+princely munificence, he picked up his prostrate comrades, and carried
+them back to be buried again until their services should be needed on
+some, he hoped, more auspicious occasion.
+
+The driver, who had deserted his oxen and run to hide himself among the
+furze bushes at the beginning of the affray, returned to his post when
+he saw that all danger was over, and the chariot once more started upon
+its way—the worthy duenna having taken her doubloons out of her shoes
+and restored them to her purse, which was then deposited in the depths
+of a mysterious pocket.
+
+“You behaved like a real hero of romance,” Isabelle said in an
+undertone to de Sigognac, “and I feel that under your protection we can
+travel securely; how bravely you attacked that bandit single-handedly
+when you had every reason to believe that he was supported by an armed
+band.”
+
+“You overestimate my little exploit,” the baron replied modestly,
+“there was no danger worth mentioning,” then sinking his voice to a
+whisper, “but to protect you I would meet and conquer giants, put to
+flight a whole host of Saracens, attack and destroy dragons and horrid
+monsters; I would force my way through enchanted forests filled with
+snares and perils, such as we read of, and even descend into hell
+itself, like Æneas of old. In your dear service the most difficult
+feats would be easy; your beautiful eyes inspire me with indomitable
+courage, and your sweet presence, or even the bare thought of you,
+seems to endue me with a super-human strength.”
+
+This was, perhaps, rather exaggerated, but perfectly sincere, and
+Isabelle did not doubt for a moment that de Sigognac would be able to
+accomplish fabulous deeds of prowess in her honour and for her sake;
+and she was not so very far wrong, for he was becoming hourly more
+passionately enamoured of her, and ardent young lovers are capable of
+prodigies of valour, inspired by the fair objects of their adoration.
+
+Serafina, who had overheard some of the baron’s impassioned words,
+could not repress a scornful smile; so many women are apt to find the
+fervid protestations of lovers, when addressed to others than
+themselves, supremely ridiculous, yet they joyfully receive the very
+same protestations, without detecting anything in the least absurd in
+them when whispered into their own ears. For a moment she was tempted
+to try the power of her many charms, which she believed to be
+irresistible, with the young baron, and win him away from Isabelle; but
+this idea was speedily rejected, for Serafina held beauty to be a
+precious gem that should be richly set in gold—the gem was hers, but
+the golden setting was lamentably wanting, and poor de Sigognac could
+not possibly furnish it. So the accomplished coquette decided not to
+interfere with this newly-born love affair, which was “all very well
+for a simple-minded young girl like Isabelle,” she said to herself,
+with a disdainful smile and toss of the head.
+
+Profound silence had fallen upon the party after the late excitement,
+and some of them were even growing sleepy again, when several hours
+later the driver suddenly called out, “There is the Château de
+Bruyères.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+AT THE CHÂTEAU DE BRUYÈRES
+
+
+The extensive domain of the Marquis de Bruyères was situated just upon
+the edge of the Landes, and consisted mostly of productive,
+highly-cultivated land—the barren sand reaching only to the boundary
+wall of the great park that surrounded the château. An air of
+prosperity pervaded the entire estate, in pleasing contrast with the
+desolate region of country close at hand. Outside the park wall was a
+broad, deep ditch, filled with clear water and spanned by a handsome
+stone bridge, wide enough for two carriages abreast, which led to the
+grand entrance gates. These were of wrought iron, and quite a marvel of
+delicate workmanship and beauty. There was a good deal of gilding about
+them, and the lofty apex bore a marquis’s crown above a shield
+supported by two naked savages, upon which the de Bruyères arms were
+richly emblazoned—it was an entrance worthy of a royal demesne. When
+our party paused before it, in the course of the morning, a servant in
+a rich, showy livery was slowly opening the folding leaves of the
+magnificent gates, so as to admit them into the park. The very oxen
+hesitated ere they took their slow way through it, as if dazzled by so
+much splendour, and ashamed of their own homeliness—the honest brutes
+little suspecting that the wealthy nobleman’s pomp and glitter are
+derived from the industry of the lowly tillers of the soil. It
+certainly would seem as if only fine carriages and prancing horses
+should be permitted to pass through such a portal as this, but the
+chariot of Thespis, no matter how humble, is privileged, and not only
+enters, but is welcome everywhere.
+
+A broad avenue led from the bridge to the château, passing by carefully
+clipped shrubbery, whence marble statues peeped out here and there, and
+a beautiful garden, with flower-beds ingeniously laid out in
+geometrical patterns, and brilliant with well contrasted colours. The
+narrow walks among them were bordered with box, and strewn with fine
+sand of various tints, and several little fountains threw up their
+sparkling jets among the flowers. In the centre of the garden was a
+magnificent fountain, with a large, oblong, marble basin, and a Triton,
+on a high pedestal, pouring water from a shell. A row of yews,
+skilfully trimmed into pyramids, balls, and various fanciful shapes,
+and placed at regular distances on each side of the grand avenue,
+extended from the entrance gates to the château, their sombre hue
+contrasting well with the brighter green of the foliage behind them.
+Everything was in the most perfect order; not a leaf out of place, nor
+a particle of dust to be seen anywhere, as if the gardeners had just
+freshly washed and trimmed every tree, shrub, and plant under their
+care.
+
+All this magnificence astonished and delighted the poor comedians, who
+rarely gained admission to such an abode as this. Serafina, affecting
+indifference, but noting everything carefully from under her lowered
+eye-lashes, promised herself to supplant the _soubrette_ in the
+marquis’s favour, feeling that this great seignior was her own
+legitimate prey, and ought to have devoted himself to her in the first
+place, instead of weakly yielding to the vulgar blandishments of the
+pretty waiting-maid, as he should no longer be permitted to do—if she
+had any power.
+
+Meanwhile the _soubrette_, feeling sure of her conquest, had given
+herself up to castle-building with all the fervour of her ardent
+southern nature. Isabelle, who was not preoccupied by any ambitious
+projects, turned her head now and then to glance and smile tenderly at
+de Sigognac, who was sitting in the chariot behind her and who she knew
+must be feeling acutely the painful contrast between this splendid
+estate and his own desolate, half-ruined château. Her loving heart
+ached for him, and her eyes spoke sweetest sympathy to the poor young
+nobleman, reduced so low a fortune, yet so worthy of a better fate.
+
+The tyrant was deep in thought, trying to decide how, much he might
+venture to demand for the services of his troupe, and mentally
+increasing the amount at every step, as new glories disclosed
+themselves to his wondering eyes. The pedant was looking forward
+impatiently to the copious draughts of generous wine he felt sure of
+enjoying in the splendid château that was now in full view, and
+Leander, striving to smooth his slightly dishevelled locks with a
+dainty little tortoise-shell pocket-comb, was wondering, with a
+fluttering heart, whether a fair _marquise_ dwelt within those walls,
+and would gaze down upon him from one of those windows as he
+alighted—indulging in high hopes of the impression he should make upon
+her susceptible heart.
+
+The Château de Bruyères, which had been entirely rebuilt in the
+preceding reign, was a noble structure, of immense size, three stories
+in height, and enclosing a large interior court. It was built of red
+brick, with elaborate, white stone facings. There were many pretty
+balconies with sculptured stone railings, and large, clear panes of
+glass—an unusual luxury at that epoch—in the numerous lofty windows,
+through which the rich hangings within were visible; and a projecting
+porch, reached by an imposing flight of broad stone steps, in the
+centre of the facade, marked the main entrance. The high, steep roof
+was of slate, in several shades, wrought into a quaint, pretty pattern,
+and the groups of tall chimneys were symmetrically disposed and
+handsomely ornamented. There was a look of gaiety and luxury about this
+really beautiful château which gave the idea of great prosperity, but
+not the slightest approach to vulgar pretension. There was nothing
+meretricious or glaring; everything was substantial and in perfect
+taste, and an indescribably majestic, dignified air, if we may be
+allowed the expression, pervaded the whole establishment, which spoke
+of ancient wealth and nobility under all this modern splendour.
+
+Behind the château, its gardens and terraces, was a veritable forest of
+lofty, venerable trees, forming the magnificent park, which was of
+great extent, and for centuries had been the pride of the Bruyères.
+
+Although our high-minded young hero had never been envious of any one
+in his life, he could not altogether suppress the melancholy sigh with
+which he remembered that in former years the de Sigognacs had stood
+higher than the de Bruyères in the province, and had taken precedence
+of them at court; nor could he help contrasting in his own mind this
+fresh, new château, replete with every beauty and luxury that a
+cultivated taste could devise and plentiful wealth procure, with his
+own desolate, dilapidated mansion—the home of owls and rats—which was
+gradually but surely crumbling into dust, and a keen pang shot through
+his heart at the thought. He recalled the dreary, solitary, hopeless
+life he had led there, and said to himself that the Marquis de Bruyères
+ought to be a very happy man, with so much to make his existence
+delightful. The stopping of the chariot at the foot of the broad stone
+steps in the front of the château aroused him from his reverie; he
+dismissed as quickly as he could the sad thoughts that had engrossed
+him, endeavoured to dismiss also the dark shadow from his brow, and
+jumping lightly to the ground turned and held out his hand to help
+Isabelle to descend, before any one else could offer her that little
+service.
+
+The Marquis de Bruyères, who had seen the chariot advancing slowly up
+the avenue, stood in the porch to receive them. He was superbly
+dressed, and looked very handsome, as both Serafina and the _soubrette_
+secretly remarked. He descended two or three steps as the chariot
+stopped, and welcomed his guests with a friendly wave of the hand—doing
+them as much honour as if they had been of his own rank—which act of
+courtesy, let us hasten to explain, was because of the Baron de
+Sigognac’s presence among them; but for that they would not have been
+brought to the main entrance at all.
+
+At this moment the wily _soubrette_, seeing her opportunity for a bold
+stroke, prepared to alight; and as de Sigognac was fully occupied with
+Isabelle, and nobody else thought of paying any attention to her—for
+she always jumped to the ground as lightly as a bird, disdaining
+assistance—she hesitated for a moment, with an adorable little air of
+timidity, and then raised an appealing glance to the marquis. He could
+not resist it, and, rushing down the steps to her aid, held out both
+hands to her. With wonderful art the clever little actress managed to
+slip and lose her balance, so as to fall into his extended arms,
+clasping him around the neck as she did so.
+
+“Pardon me, my lord,” said she, breathlessly, to the marquis, feigning
+a confusion she was far from really feeling, “I thought I was going to
+fall, and grasped your collar, just as a drowning man clutches at the
+nearest object. A fall is a bad omen, you know, as well as a serious
+matter, for a poor actress.”
+
+“Permit me to look upon this little accident as a favour,” the marquis
+replied, giving her a most significant glance, and lightly pressing her
+yielding form in his arms before he released her.
+
+Serafina had watched this little by-play out of the corner of her eye,
+though her face was apparently turned away from them, and she bit her
+lip till it bled, with vexation; so after all the _soubrette_ had
+succeeded, by an abominably bold action, in compelling the marquis to
+neglect her betters and give his warmest welcome to a low _intrigante_,
+said the “leading lady” to herself, swelling with righteous
+indignation, and abusing the offender roundly in her thoughts—wishing
+that she could do it aloud, and expose her outrageous, unmannerly
+artifice.
+
+“Jean,” said the marquis to a servant in livery who stood near, “have
+this chariot taken into the court, and see that the decorations,
+scenery, etc., are carefully put in some convenient place; have the
+luggage of these ladies and gentlemen carried to the rooms that I
+ordered to be made ready for them, and take care that they have
+everything they want;” then in a lower tone, but very emphatically, “I
+desire that they should be treated with the utmost courtesy and
+respect.”
+
+These orders being given, the marquis gravely ascended the steps,
+followed by the comedians, and having consigned them to his major-domo
+to show them to their respective rooms and make them comfortable, he
+gracefully bowed and left them; darting an admiring glance at the
+_soubrette_ as he did so, which she acknowledged by a radiant smile,
+that Serafina, raging inwardly, pronounced “abominably bold.”
+
+The chariot meantime had made its way into a back court, accompanied by
+the tyrant, the pedant and Scapin, who superintended the unloading of
+the various articles that would be needed—a strange medley, which the
+supercilious servants of the château, in their rich liveries, handled
+with a very lofty air of contempt and condescension, feeling it quite
+beneath their dignity to wait upon a band of strolling players. But
+they dared not rebel, for the marquis had ordered it, and he was a
+severe master, as well as a very generous one.
+
+The major-domo, however, conducted his charges to their appointed
+chambers with as profound an air of respect as if they had been real
+princes and princesses; for the marquis himself had visited the left
+wing of the château, where they were to be lodged, had specified the
+room for each guest, and ordered that they should want for nothing—a
+very unusual proceeding on his part, as he was in the habit of leaving
+all such minor details to his trusty major-domo. A beautiful chamber,
+hung with tapestry which represented the loves of Cupid and Psyche, was
+given to the _soubrette_, the pretty, dainty, blue one to Isabelle, and
+the luxurious red one to Serafina, whilst the more sober brown one was
+assigned to the duenna. The Baron de Sigognac was installed in a
+magnificent apartment, whose panelled walls were covered with richly
+embossed Spanish leather. It was close to Isabelle’s room—a delicate
+attention on the part of the marquis. This superb chamber was always
+reserved for his most honoured guests, and in giving it to our young
+hero he desired to testify that he recognised and appreciated his rank,
+though he religiously respected his incognito.
+
+When de Sigognac was left alone, and at liberty to think over quietly
+the odd situation in which he found himself, he looked at his
+magnificent surroundings with surprise as well as admiration—for he had
+never in his life seen, or even imagined, such splendour and luxury.
+The rich glowing colours of the chimerical flowers and foliage embossed
+on a golden ground of the Spanish leather on the walls, the
+corresponding tints in the frescoed ceiling and the heavy, silken
+hangings at the windows and doors and round the bed, the elaborately
+carved and gilded furniture, the luxurious easy-chairs and sofas, the
+large mirrors with bevelled edges, and the dainty dressing-table,
+lavishly furnished with all the accessories of the toilet, with its
+oval glass draped with lace which was tied back with knots of gay
+ribbon, certainly did make up a charming whole, and the wood fire
+burning brightly in the open fireplace gave a cheerful, cosy air to it
+all.
+
+Our poor young baron blushed painfully as he caught sight of his own
+figure in one of the long mirrors—his shabby, ill-fitting clothes
+looked so sadly out of place amidst all this magnificence—and for the
+first time in his life he felt ashamed of his poverty. Highly
+unphilosophical this, but surely excusable in so young a man as our
+hero. With a natural desire to improve his forlorn appearance if he
+could, he unpacked the scanty supply of clothing that his faithful
+Pierre had put up for him—hoping that he might come across something a
+little less thread-bare than the suit he actually had on his back—but
+the inspection was not satisfactory, and he groaned as he discarded one
+faded, shabby garment after another. The linen was not any better—worn
+so that it was thin everywhere, with numerous darns and patches, and
+many holes, he could not find a single shirt that was whole and in good
+condition. He was so absorbed in this melancholy inspection that he did
+not hear a low knock at the door, nor notice that it was slowly pushed
+open, having been already ajar, to admit the stout person of Blazius,
+who approached him with many bows and flourishes, though entirely
+unobserved. When the pedant reached his side de Sigognac was just
+holding up before him a shirt that had as many openings as the rose
+window of a cathedral, and slowly shaking his head as he gazed at it,
+with an expression of utter discouragement.
+
+“Body of Bacchus!” exclaimed the pedant—his voice, so close at hand,
+startling the astonished baron, who had believed himself alone, and
+safe from intrusion—“that shirt has verily a valiant and triumphant
+air. It looks as if it had been worn by Mars himself in battle, so
+riddled has it been by lances, spears, darts, arrows, and I know not
+what besides. Don’t be ashamed of it, Baron!—these holes are honourable
+to you. Many a shirt of fine linen, ruffled and embroidered, according
+to the latest fashion, disguises the graceless person of some rascally
+parvenu—and usurer as well perhaps—who usurps the place of his betters.
+Several of the great heroes, of immortal fame, had not a shirt to their
+backs—Ulysses, for example, that wise and valiant man, who presented
+himself before the beautiful Princess Nausicaa, with no other covering
+than a bunch of sea-weed—as we are told, in the Odyssey, by the grand
+old bard, Homer.”
+
+“Unfortunately,” de Sigognac replied, “there is no point of
+resemblance, my dear Blazius, between me and the brave King of Ithaca,
+save the lack of linen. _I_ have done no deeds of valour to shed a
+lustre over MY poverty. I have had no chance to make myself famous, and
+I fear that the poets will never celebrate my praises in glowing
+hexameters. But, jesting aside, I must confess that I do feel greatly
+annoyed at being forced to appear in this guise here. The Marquis de
+Bruyères recognised me, though he made no sign, and he may betray my
+secret.”
+
+“It _is_ a pity,” said the pedant in reply, “but there’s a remedy for
+every ill under the sun, save death, according to the old saying, and
+if you will permit me, I think that I can help you out of this awkward
+dilemma. We, poor players, shadows of real men and women, phantoms of
+personages of every degree, from the highest to the lowest, have the
+means necessary for assuming almost any character, you know. As
+‘_costumier_’ of the troupe I am accustomed to make all sorts of
+transformations, and can turn a miserable vagabond into an Alexander,
+or a vulgar wench into a princess. Now, if you are not too proud, I
+will exercise my poor skill in your lordship’s service. Since you have
+been willing to join our company for this journey, do not disdain to
+make use of our resources, such as they are, and put aside these
+ill-fitting garments, which disguise your natural advantages, and make
+you feel ill at ease. Most fortunately I happen to have in reserve a
+handsome suit of black velvet, which has not the least of a theatrical
+air about it, and has never been used; any gentleman could wear it, and
+unless I am much mistaken it will fit you capitally. I have also the
+fine linen shirt, silk stockings, shoes—with broad buckles, and cloak
+to go with it—there is nothing wanting, not even the sword.”
+
+“Oh! as to that,” cried de Sigognac, with a gesture expressive of all
+that pride of birth which no misfortunes could crush, “I have my
+father’s sword.”
+
+“True,” answered Blazius, “and guard it sacredly, my lord! for a sword
+is a faithful friend—defender of its master’s life and honour. _It_
+does not abandon him in times of peril and disaster, like the false
+friends who cling only to prosperity. Our stage swords have neither
+edge nor point, for they are only intended for show; the wounds they
+make disappear suddenly when the curtain falls, without the aid of the
+surgeon with his instruments and lint. That trusty sword of yours you
+can depend upon in any emergency, and I have already seen it doing good
+service in our behalf. But permit me to go and fetch the things I spoke
+of; I am impatient to see the butterfly emerge from the chrysalis.”
+
+Having thus spoken, in the theatrical way that had become habitual with
+him, the worthy pedant quitted the room, and soon reappeared, carrying
+a large package, which he deposited on the table in the centre of the
+chamber.
+
+“If your lordship will accept an old actor as _valet-de-chambre_,” he
+said, rubbing his hands joyfully together, “I will beautify you in no
+time. All the ladies will be sure to fall in love with you, for—with no
+disrespect to the larder at the Château de Sigognac be it said—you have
+fasted so much in your lonely life there that it has made you most
+interestingly slender and pale—just what the dear creatures delight in.
+They would not listen to a word from a stout lover, even if the
+diamonds and pearls of the fairy tale dropped from his lips whenever he
+spoke. That is the sole reason for my want of success with the fair
+sex, and I long ago deserted the shrine of Venus for the worship of
+Bacchus. A big paunch is not amiss among the devotees of that merry
+god, for it bears witness to plentiful libations.”
+
+Thus running on gaily, the worthy pedant strove to amuse the melancholy
+young nobleman, while he deftly performed his duties as valet; and they
+were very quickly completed, for the requirements of the stage
+necessitate great dexterity on the part of the actors to make the
+metamorphoses frequently needed with sufficient promptness and
+rapidity. Charmed with the result of his efforts he led de Sigognac up
+to one of the large mirrors, wherein, upon raising his eyes, he saw a
+figure which, at the first glance, he thought must be that of some
+person who had entered the room without his knowledge, and turned to
+ask who the intruder was—but there was no stranger there, and he
+discovered that it was his own reflection—so changed that he was mute
+with astonishment. A young, handsome, richly-dressed de Sigognac stood
+before him, and a radiant smile parted his lips and lighted up his face
+as he gazed at his own image, which perfected the really marvellous
+transformation. Blazius, standing near, contemplated his work with
+undisguised pride and satisfaction, changing his position several times
+so as to get different views, as a sculptor might who had just put the
+finishing touches to his statue altogether to his liking.
+
+“When you have made your way at court, my lord, and regained the
+position held by your ancestors, as I hope and expect that you will do,
+I shall pray you to give me a refuge for my old age in your household,
+and make me intendant of your lordship’s wardrobe,” said he, with a
+profound bow to the baron.
+
+“I will not forget your request, my good Blazius, even though I fear
+that I shall never be able to comply with it,” de Sigognac answered
+with a melancholy smile. “You, my kind friend, are the first human
+being that has ever asked a favour of me.”
+
+“After our dinner, which we are to have very shortly, we are to consult
+with his lordship, the marquis, as to what play shall be given this
+evening, and learn from him where we are to rig our theatre. You will
+pass for the poet of the troupe; it is by no means an unheard-of thing
+for men of learning and position to join a band of players thus—either
+for the fun of the thing, and in hope of adventures, or for the love of
+a young and beautiful actress. I could tell you of several notable
+instances; and it is thought to be rather to a man’s credit than
+otherwise in fashionable circles. Isabelle is a very good pretext for
+you; she is young, beautiful, clever, modest, and virtuous. In fact
+many an actress who takes like her the role of the ingenuous young girl
+is in reality all that she personates, though a frivolous and
+frequently licentious public will not credit it for a moment.”
+
+Herewith the pedant discreetly retired, having accomplished, to his
+great satisfaction, what he had really feared to propose to the young
+baron, for whom he had conceived a very warm affection.
+
+Meanwhile the elegant Leander, indulging in delightful dreams of the
+possible fair _châtelaine_ who was to fall a victim to his charms, was
+making his careful toilet—arraying himself in his most resplendent
+finery, scrupulously kept for grand occasions—convinced that great good
+fortune awaited him, and determined to carry the noble lady’s heart by
+storm.
+
+As to the actresses, to whom the gallant marquis, with princely
+munificence, had sent several pieces of rich stuffs and silks, it is
+needless to say that they spared no pains to make themselves as
+charming as possible, and obeyed the summons to dinner radiant with
+smiles and in high good humour—excepting indeed the fair Serafina, who
+was inwardly consumed with envy and spite, but careful to conceal it
+from all beholders.
+
+The marquis, who was of an ardent, impatient nature, made his
+appearance in the dining-room before they had quite finished the
+sumptuous repast which had been served to them; he would not allow them
+to rise, but seated himself at the table with them, and when the last
+course had been removed, asked the tyrant to be good enough to give him
+a list of the plays they were in the habit of acting, so that he might
+select one for the evening’s entertainment. But so many were enumerated
+that his lordship found it not easy to make a choice, and expressed his
+desire to have the tyrant’s ideas upon the subject.
+
+“There is one piece we often play,” Hérode said, “which never fails to
+please, and is so full of good-natured fun and nonsense that it keeps
+the audience in a roar of laughter from the beginning to the end.”
+
+“Let us have that one, by all means,” the marquis exclaimed; “and pray
+what is the name of this delightful play?”
+
+“The Rodomontades of Captain Matamore.”
+
+“A capital title, upon my word! and has the _soubrette_ a good part in
+it?” asked his lordship, with a languishing glance at her.
+
+“The most racy, mischievous role imaginable,” said Hérode warmly, “and
+she plays it to perfection—it is her chef d’oeuvre. She is always
+applauded to the echo in it.”
+
+At this high praise from the manager, Zerbine—for such was the
+_soubrette’s_ name—tried her best to get up a becoming blush, but in
+vain. Modesty she had none, and the tint she would fain have called
+into requisition at that moment was not contained in any of her
+numerous rouge-pots. So she cast down her eyes, thereby displaying to
+advantage the length and thickness of her jet-black lashes, and raised
+her hand with a deprecating gesture, which called attention to its
+pretty, taper fingers and rosy nails. The marquis watched he
+admiringly, and she certainly was very charming in her way. He did not
+vouchsafe even a glance to the other two young actresses—refraining
+from testifying any marked admiration for Isabelle because of the prior
+claim of the Baron de Sigognac—though he was secretly very much
+delighted with her sweet, refined style of beauty, and the quiet
+dignity and grace of her deportment. Serafina, who was naturally
+indignant that the marquis had not even asked if there was a part for
+her in the piece to be performed, accused him in her heart of being no
+gentleman, and of having very low, vulgar tastes, but she was the only
+one of the party that felt any dissatisfaction.
+
+Before the marquis left them he said to Hérode, “I have given orders to
+have the orangery cleared so that our theatre can be arranged there;
+they are carrying planks, trestles, benches, hangings, and all other
+needful articles in there now. Will you kindly superintend the workmen,
+who are new to this sort of business? They will obey your orders as
+they would my own.”
+
+Accordingly the tyrant, Blazius and Scapin repaired to the orangery,
+which was at a little distance from the château and admirably
+calculated for the purpose it was now to serve, and where they found
+everything necessary to convert it into a temporary theatre.
+
+Whilst this work is going forward we will make our amiable, indulgent
+readers acquainted with the fair mistress of the château—having
+heretofore forgotten to mention that the Marquis de Bruyères was a
+married man; he thought of it so seldom himself that we may surely be
+pardoned for this omission. As can be readily imagined, from our last
+remark, love had not been the moving cause in this union. Adjoining
+estates, which, united in one, formed a noble domain, and equality of
+rank had been the chief considerations. After a very brief honeymoon,
+during which they had become painfully aware of a total want of
+congeniality, the marquis and _marquise_—like well-bred people, making
+no outcry about their matrimonial failure—had tacitly agreed to live
+amicably under the same roof, but entirely independent of each other—he
+to go his way and she hers, with perfect freedom. They always treated
+each other in public, and indeed whenever they chanced to meet, with
+the greatest courtesy, and might easily have been mistaken by a casual
+observer for an unusually happy and united pair. Mme. la Marquise
+occupied a sumptuous suite of apartments in the château, which her
+husband never thought of entering without first sending to ascertain
+whether it would be convenient for madame to receive him, like a formal
+visitor. But we will avail ourselves of the time-honoured privilege of
+authors, and make our way into the noble _châtelaine’s_ bed-chamber,
+without any form or ceremony—feeling sure of not disturbing its fair
+occupant, since the writer of a romance wears upon his finger the
+wonder-working ring of Gyges, which renders him invisible.
+
+It was a large, lofty room, hung with superb tapestry representing the
+adventures of Apollo, and exhibiting every luxury that wealth could
+procure. Here also a bright wood fire was, burning cheerily, and the
+Marquise de Bruyères sat before her dressing table, with two maids in
+attendance upon her, absorbed in the all-important business of putting
+the finishing touches to her extremely becoming as well as effective
+toilet. Mme. la Marquise was a handsome brunette, whose embonpoint,
+which had succeeded to the slender outline of early youth, had added to
+her beauty; her magnificent black hair, which was one of her ladyship’s
+greatest charms, was dressed in the most elaborate fashion—an intricate
+mass of glossy braids, puffs and curls, forming a lofty structure, and
+ornamented with a large bow of crimson ribbon, while one long curl fell
+upon her fair neck, making it look all the whiter by contrast. Her
+dress of crimson silk, cut very low, displayed to advantage—the plump,
+dimpled shoulders, and her snowy bosom, and from a band of black velvet
+round her throat was suspended a heart-shaped locket, set with superb
+rubies and brilliants. A white satin petticoat covered with priceless
+old lace, over which the crimson silk gown, open in front, was looped
+high upon the hips, and then swept back in a long, ample, richly
+trimmed train, completed the elegant toilet of Mme. la Marquise.
+
+Jeanne, the favourite maid and confidante, held open the box of tiny
+black, “_mouches_”—without which no fashionable lady of that epoch
+considered herself fully equipped—while the _marquise_ placed one, with
+most happy effect, near the corner of her rather pretty mouth, and then
+hesitated some time before she could decide where to put the other,
+which she held ready on the tip of her forefinger. The two maids stood
+motionless, breathlessly watching their mistress, as if fully impressed
+with the importance of this grave question, until at last the little
+black star found a resting-place just above the edge of the crimson
+silk bodice, to the left—indicating, in the accepted hieroglyphics of
+that age of gallantry, that he who aspired to the lips of the fair
+wearer must first win her heart.
+
+After a last lingering look in the mirror Mme. la Marquise rose and
+walked slowly towards the fire, but suddenly, remembering that there
+was yet one adornment wanting, turned back, and took from a beautiful
+casket standing open on the toilet-table, a large, thick watch—called
+in those days a Nuremberg egg—which was curiously enamelled in a
+variety of bright colours, and set with brilliants. It hung from a
+short, broad chain of rich workmanship, which she hooked into her
+girdle, near another chain of the same description, from which depended
+a small hand-mirror in a pretty gold frame.
+
+“Madame is looking her loveliest to-day,” said Jeanne in flattering
+tones; “her hair is dressed to perfection, and her gown fits like a
+glove.”
+
+“Do you really think so?” asked her mistress languidly, and with
+affected indifference. “It seems to me, on the contrary, that I am
+positively hideous. My eyes are sunken, and this colour makes me look
+immensely stout. I have half a mind to exchange this dress for a black
+one now. What do you think, Jeanne? Black makes people look slender,
+they say.”
+
+“If madame insists upon it I can quickly make the exchange; but it
+would be a sad pity not to wear such an elegant and becoming costume as
+madame has on now.”
+
+“Well, let it be then; but it will be all your fault, Jeanne, if I fail
+to receive as much admiration as usual this evening. Do you know
+whether the marquis has invited many people to come and see this play?”
+
+“Yes, madame, several messengers have been sent off on horseback in
+different directions, and there will be sure to be a large
+gathering—they will come from all the châteaux within driving
+distance—for such an occasion as this is rare, here in the depths of
+the country.”
+
+“You are right,” said Mme. la Marquise, with a deep sigh, which was
+almost a groan; “we are buried alive in this dreary place. And what
+about these players?—have you seen them, Jeanne?—are there any handsome
+young actors among them?”
+
+“I have only had a glimpse of them, madame, and such people are so
+painted and fixed up, they say, that it is hard to tell what they
+really do look like; but there was one slender young man, with long,
+black curls and a very good figure, who had quite a grand air.”
+
+“That must be the lover, Jeanne, for it is always the best looking
+young actor in the troupe who takes that part. It would be ridiculous,
+you know, to have a stout old codger, or a very ugly man, or even an
+awkward one, making declarations of love, and going down on their
+knees, and all that sort of thing—it would not do at all, Jeanne!”
+
+“No, madame, it would not be very nice,” said the maid with a merry
+laugh, adding shrewdly, “and although it seems to make very little
+difference what husbands may be like, lovers should always be
+everything that is charming.”
+
+“I confess that I have a weakness for those stage gallants,” Mme. la
+Marquise said with a little sigh, “they are so handsome, and so
+devoted—they always use such beautiful language, and make such graceful
+gestures—they are really irresistible. I cannot help feeling vexed when
+their impassioned appeals are received coldly, and they are driven to
+despair, as so often happens in plays; I would like to call them to me
+and try to console them, the bewitching creatures!”
+
+“That is because madame has such a kind heart that she can’t bear to
+see any one suffer without trying to help and comfort them,” said the
+specious Jeanne. “Now I am of quite a different mind—nothing I would
+like better than to flout a sentimental suitor; fine words would not
+gain any favour with me—I should distrust them.”
+
+“Oh! you don’t understand the matter, Jeanne! You have not read as many
+romances, or seen as many plays as I have. Did you say that young actor
+was very handsome?”
+
+“Mme. la Marquise can judge for herself,” answered the maid, who had
+gone to the window, “for he is just crossing the court this blessed
+minute, on his way to the orangery, where they are rigging up their
+theatre.”
+
+Mme. la Marquise hastened to the window, and there was Leander in full
+view, walking along slowly, apparently lost in thought, and wearing a
+tender, sad expression, which he considered especially effective and
+interesting—as we have said, he never for a moment forgot his role. As
+he drew near he looked up, as by a sudden inspiration, to the very
+window where the _marquise_ stood watching him, and instantly taking
+off his hat with a grand flourish, so that its long feather swept the
+ground, made a very low obeisance, such as courtiers make to a queen;
+then drew himself up proudly to his full height, and darting an ardent
+glance of admiration and homage at the beautiful unknown, put on his
+broad felt hat again and went composedly on his way. It was admirably
+well done; a genuine cavalier, familiar with all the gallant usages in
+vogue at court, could not have acquitted himself better. Flattered by
+this mark of respect for her rank and admiration of her beauty, so
+gracefully tendered, Mme. la Marquise could not help acknowledging it
+by a slight bend of the head, and a little half suppressed smile. These
+favourable signs did not escape Leander, who, with his usual
+self-conceit, took a most exaggerated view of their import. He did not
+for a moment doubt that the fair mistress of the château—for he took it
+for granted it was she—had fallen violently in love with him, then and
+there; he felt sure that he had read it in her eyes and her smile. His
+heart beat tumultuously; he trembled with excitement; at last it had
+come! the dream of his life was to be accomplished; he, the poor,
+strolling player, had won the heart of a great lady; his fortune was
+made! He got through the rehearsal to which he had been summoned as
+best he might, and the instant it was over hastened back to his own
+room, to indite an impassioned appeal to his new divinity, and devise
+some means to insure its reaching her that same evening.
+
+As everything was in readiness the play was to begin as soon as the
+invited guests had all assembled. The orangery had been transformed
+into a charming little theatre, and was brilliantly lighted by many
+clusters of wax candles. Behind the spectators the orange trees had
+been arranged in rows, rising one above the other, and filled the air
+with their delicious fragrance. In the front row of seats, which was
+composed of luxurious arm-chairs, were to be seen the beautiful Yolande
+de Foix, the Duchesse de Montalban, the Baronne d’Hagémeau, the
+Marquise de Bruyres, and many other titled dames, resplendent in
+gorgeous array, and vying with each other in magnificence and beauty.
+Rich velvets, brilliant satins, cloth of silver and gold, misty laces,
+gay ribbons, white feathers, tiaras of diamonds, strings of pearls,
+superb jewels, glittering in delicate shell-like ears, on white necks
+and rounded arms, were in profusion, and the scene would have graced
+the court itself. If the surpassingly lovely Yolande de Foix had not
+been present, several radiant mortal goddesses in the exceptionally
+brilliant assemblage might have made it difficult for a Paris to decide
+between their rival claims to the golden apple; but her beauty eclipsed
+them all, though it was rather that of the haughty Diana than the
+smiling Venus. Men raved about her, declared her irresistible,
+worshipped at her shrine, but never dared aspire to her love; one
+scornful glance from her cold blue eyes effectually extinguished any
+nascent hope, and the cruel beauty punished presumption as
+relentlessly, and won and flung away hearts with as much nonchalance,
+as ever did her immortal prototype, the fair goddess of the chase.
+
+How was this exquisite creature dressed? It would require more
+_sang-froid_ than we are possessed of to venture upon a description of
+her perfect toilet; her raiment floated about her graceful form like a
+luminous cloud, in which one could think only of herself; we believe,
+however, that there were clusters of pearls nestling amid the bright
+curls that made an aureola—a veritable golden glory—about her beautiful
+head.
+
+Behind these fair ladies sat or stood the nobles and gentlemen who had
+the honour of being their fathers, husbands, and brothers. Some were
+leaning forward to whisper soft nothings and dainty compliments into
+willing ears, others lounging and fanning themselves lazily with their
+broad felt hats, and others still standing in the background looking
+admiringly at the pretty group before them. The hum of conversation
+filled the air, and a slight impatience was just beginning to manifest
+itself among the waiting audience, when the traditional three knocks
+were heard, and all suddenly subsided into silence.
+
+The curtain rose slowly and revealed a very pretty scene representing a
+public square where several streets met, surrounded by picturesque
+houses with small latticed windows, overhanging gables, high peaked
+roofs, and smoke curling upwards from the slender chimneys against the
+blue sky.
+
+One of these houses had a practicable door and window, whilst two of
+those in the side scenes enjoyed equal advantages, and one of them was
+furnished with a balcony. A few trees were scattered about in front of
+the houses, and, though the painting was not of the highest order of
+scenic art, the general effect was very good, and won a round of
+applause from the aristocratic audience. The piece opens with a quarrel
+between the testy old _bourgeois_, Pandolphe, and his daughter,
+Isabelle, who, being in love with a handsome young suitor, obstinately
+refuses to obey her father’s commands and marry a certain Captain
+Matamore, with whom he is perfectly infatuated. She is ably supported
+in her resistance by her pretty maid, Zerbine, who is well paid by
+Leander, the favoured lover, to espouse his cause. To all the curses
+and abuse that Pandolphe showers upon her, she answers gaily with the
+most exasperating and amusing impertinences, advising him to marry this
+fine captain himself if he is so fond of him; as for her part she will
+never suffer her dear, beautiful mistress to become the wife of that
+horrid old codger, that abominable bully, that detestable scarecrow!
+Whereupon Pandolphe, furiously angry, orders her into the house, so
+that he may speak to his daughter alone; and when she refuses to obey,
+and defies him to make her, he takes her by the shoulders and attempts
+to force her to go, but she, bending forward with admirable elasticity,
+from the waist only, at each vigorous effort of his, stands her ground
+and does not budge one inch from her place, breaking into peals of
+laughter at every fresh attempt, and accompanying it all with an
+irresistibly saucy, comical by-play, that wins her round after round of
+enthusiastic applause—whilst the Marquis de Bruyères, enchanted with
+her spirited acting, congratulates himself anew upon the happy chance
+that threw this charming creature in his way.
+
+Another character now enters upon the scene, looking cautiously about
+him at every step, as if he feared an unpleasant surprise. This is
+Leander, the horror of fathers, husbands, and guardians, the delight of
+wives, daughters, and wards—in one word, the lover—the very beau-ideal
+of a lover; young, handsome, ardent, ready for anything, winning over
+strict old duennas, bribing pert waiting-maids, climbing up
+rope-ladders, overcoming every obstacle to reach the fair mistress of
+his affections, and kneeling at her feet to pour out burning
+protestations of love and devotion, that no mortal woman could ever
+resist. Suddenly perceiving that Pandolphe is here, where he only
+expected to find Isabelle, Leander stops and throws himself into an
+attitude, which he has frequently practised before the mirror, and
+which, he flatters himself, shows his handsome person to great
+advantage; standing with his weight thrown upon the left leg, the right
+one advanced and slightly bent at the knee; one hand on the hilt of his
+sword, the other stroking his chin, so as to make the big diamond on
+his finger flash in the light, and a slight smile playing about his
+lips. He really did look very handsome as he stood there, and was
+greatly admired by all the ladies—even the haughty Yolande herself not
+disdaining to smile upon him approvingly. Profiting by the opportunity
+that this pause gave him, Leander fixed his eyes upon the Marquise de
+Bruyères, with such a look of passionate entreaty and admiration that
+she blushed crimson in spite of herself under his ardent gaze; then he
+turned reluctantly towards Isabelle, with an absent, indifferent air,
+which he intended should indicate to the fair object of his aspirations
+the difference between real and simulated passion.
+
+When Pandolphe becomes aware of the presence of Leander he is more
+furious than ever, and hustles his daughter and her maid into the house
+as quickly as possible, not, however, without Zerbine’s finding means
+to take from Leander a note for Isabelle, which she slips into the
+pocket of her coquettish little apron. The young man, left alone with
+the irate father, assures him in the most respectful manner that his
+intentions are honourable; that he asks the hand of his fair daughter
+in marriage; that he is of gentle birth, has an ample fortune, and is
+in high favour at court; that nothing could ever induce him to give up
+Isabelle; he is ready to risk everything to win her, for he loves her
+better than his life—delicious words, which the young girl listens to
+with rapture from her balcony, whence she makes little signs of
+approval and encouragement to her lover, quite unknown to the stern
+father, whose back is turned to her, and who believes her safely locked
+up in the house. Despite the mellifluous eloquence of the ardent young
+suitor Pandolphe remains obstinate and unmoved, and swears, by all the
+gods that either he will have Captain Matamore for his son-in-law, or
+his refractory daughter shall be shut up in a convent and forced to
+become a nun. Off he bustles in hot haste to find a notary and have the
+contract of marriage drawn without further delay.
+
+As soon as he is out of sight Leander tries to persuade Isabelle—who is
+still in her balcony, her father having carried off the key of the
+street door in his pocket—to consent to fly from such persecution, and
+accompany him to the cell of a certain holy hermit whom he knows, and
+who is always willing and ready to marry runaway couples like
+themselves, whose loves are thwarted by tyrannical parents. But the
+young girl answers modestly, yet firmly, that, although she wishes
+nothing so earnestly as to be permitted to bestow her hand upon her
+faithful Leander, who already has her heart, she cannot disobey her
+father, for that she, like all dutiful daughters, is in duty bound to
+respect and submit to the commands of the author of her being; but she
+promises never to marry the detested Captain Matamore—she will go into
+the convent rather than listen to him for a moment. Unable to shake her
+decision Leander then retires to devise plans, with the aid of his
+clever valet, to overcome the formidable obstacles in his way—more than
+ever determined not to give up the fair Isabelle, and promising her to
+return in the evening and report progress.
+
+Isabelle retires from her balcony and closes her window, and a moment
+after Captain Matamore strides fiercely upon the stage—his appearance
+is greeted with peals of laughter—his tall, attenuated figure is
+encased in an absurd costume, in which the bright red and yellow
+stripes of his tunic meet in points in front and behind, whilst they
+run spirally round his long, thin arms and legs, producing the most
+preposterously comical effect imaginable; a stiffly-starched ruff,
+immensely broad, encircles his neck, upon which his head seems to be
+set, like that of John the Baptist on the charger; a large felt hat,
+turned up at one side, and ornamented with a huge tuft of red and
+yellow feathers, is stuck jauntily on his head, and a short cloak of
+the same colour, fastened round his neck and thrown back from his
+shoulders, floats behind him. He wears an enormous sword, whose heavily
+weighted hilt keeps the point always raised and standing out
+prominently behind him, whilst from it dangles a clever imitation of a
+spider’s web—a convincing proof of how much he is in the habit of
+making use of this formidable weapon. Closely followed by his valet,
+Scapin, who is in imminent danger of having an eye put out by the end
+of his master’s big sword, he marches several times around the stage,
+taking preternaturally long strides, rolling his eyes about fiercely,
+twisting the long ends of his huge mustache, and indulging in a variety
+of ridiculous gestures indicative of exaggerated rage and fury, which
+are irresistibly funny—all the more so because there is nothing
+whatever to provoke this display of ferocity. Finally he stops in front
+of the footlights, strikes an attitude, and delivers himself thus: “For
+to-day, Scapin, I am willing to let my man-killer here have a little
+rest, so that there may be an opportunity to get all its recent victims
+decently buried, in the cemeteries I contribute so largely towards
+filling. When a man has performed such feats of courage and carnage as
+I have—killing my hundreds single-handed, while my dastardly comrades
+trembled with fear, or turned and fled from the foe—to say nothing of
+my daily affairs of honour, now that the wars are over—he may assuredly
+indulge himself occasionally in milder amusements. Besides, the whole
+civilized world, having now been subjugated by my good sword, no longer
+offers any resistance to my indomitable arm, and Atropos, the eldest of
+the dread Parcae sisters, has sent word to me that the fatal scissors,
+with which she cuts the threads of human lives, have become so dulled
+by the great amount of work my trusty blade has given her to do with
+them, that she has been obliged to send them to Vulcan to be sharpened,
+and she begs for a short respite. So you see, Scapin, I must put force
+upon myself and restrain my natural ardour—refrain for a time from
+wars, massacres, sacking of cities, stand-up fights with giants,
+killing of monsters and dragons, like Theseus and Hercules of glorious
+memory, and all the other little pastimes which usually occupy my good
+sword and me. I will take my ease now for a brief period, and Death may
+enjoy a short rest too. But to whom did my worthy prototype, Mars, the
+great god of war, devote _his_ leisure hours? in whose sweet society
+did _he_ find delight? Ask Venus, the immortal goddess of love and
+beauty, who had the good taste to prefer a warlike man to all others,
+and lent a willing ear to the suit of my valiant predecessor. So I,
+following his illustrious example, condescend to turn my attention for
+the moment to the tender sex, and pay my court to the fair Isabelle,
+the young and beautiful object of my ardent love. Being aware that
+Cupid, with all his assurance, would not dare to aim one of his
+golden-tipped arrows at such an all-conquering hero as my unworthy
+self, I have given him a little encouragement; and, in order that the
+shaft may penetrate to the generous lion’s heart that beats in this
+broad breast, I have laid aside the world-famed coat of mail—made of
+the rings given to me by goddesses, empresses, queens, infantas,
+princesses, and great ladies of every degree, my illustrious admirers
+the world over—which is proof against all weapons, and has so often
+saved my life in my maddest deeds of daring.”
+
+“All of which signifies,” interrupts the valet, who had listened to
+this high-blown tirade with ill-concealed impatience, “as far as my
+feeble intellect can comprehend such magnificent eloquence, that your
+most redoubtable lordship has fallen in love with some young girl
+hereabouts, like any ordinary mortal.”
+
+“Really, Scapin,” says Matamore, with good-humoured condescension, “you
+have hit the nail upon the head—you are not so stupid after all, for a
+valet. Yes, I have fallen in love, but do not imagine for a moment that
+my courage will suffer diminution on that account. It was all very well
+for Samson to allow his hair to be cut off, and for Alcides to handle
+the distaff at the bidding of his mistress; but Delilah would not have
+dared to touch one hair of my head, and Omphale should have pulled off
+my boots for me—at the least sign of revolt I would have given her
+worse to do: cleaning the skin of the Nemaean lion, for instance, when
+I brought it home all fresh and bleeding, just as I had torn it from
+the quivering carcass. The thought that has lately occurred to me, that
+I have subjugated only half of the human race, is humiliating. Women,
+by reason of their weakness, escape me; I cannot treat them as I do my
+masculine opponents—cut their throats, run them through the body, or
+hew off their arms and legs; I must lay siege to their hearts, and
+conquer them in that way. It is true that I have stormed and taken a
+greater number of such fair citadels than there are drops of water in
+the ocean, or stars in the sky—why, I sleep on a mattress stuffed with
+thousands of beautiful curls and tresses of every shade, light and
+dark, golden and jet-black, which are among my most treasured trophies.
+Juno herself has made overtures to me, but I turned a deaf ear to her
+blandishments, finding her charms rather too ripe for my taste; I
+prefer the first flush of youthful beauty; it is a pure and innocent
+maiden that I would honour with my notice now, but she repulses me—that
+I should live to say it!—she dares to repulse me. I cannot permit such
+an impertinence on her part, and the fair Isabelle must humbly sue to
+me for pardon, and herself bringing the golden keys of the citadel of
+her heart, upon a salver of silver, offer them to me upon her bended
+knees, with streaming eyes and dishevelled tresses, begging for grace
+and favour in my sight. Go now, and summon the fortress to
+surrender—this house contains the rebellious fair.”
+
+But doors and windows remain inexorably closed, and no notice is taken
+of the valet’s thundering knocks and mocking summons to surrender;
+secure in the strength of their bolts and bars, the garrison, which
+consists of Isabelle and her maid, vouchsafes no reply. Matamore,
+becoming more enraged at each vain attempt to gain a response from his
+fair enemy, stamps about the stage, roaring out his defiance,
+threatening to sack and burn the place, pouring out volleys of
+remarkable oaths, and lashing himself into such a fury that he actually
+foams at the mouth. When his valet at length, after many vain efforts,
+is able to gain a hearing, and tells him of his formidable rival,
+Leander, and how he has already won the lady’s heart, all his rage is
+turned against that fortunate suitor, of whom he vows that he will make
+mince-meat as soon as he can lay hands on him. At this very moment
+Leander himself returns, and Scapin points him out to his master as he
+approaches, adding that he will keep a sharp look-out for the police
+while Matamore is giving him his quietus. But the cowardly braggadocio
+would fain withdraw, now that the enemy is actually in sight, and is
+only restrained from flight by his servant, who pushes him forward
+directly in Leander’s path.
+
+Seeing that escape is impossible, Matamore settles his hat firmly on
+his head, twists the long ends of his mustache, puts his hand on the
+hilt of his big sword, and advances threateningly towards Leander—but
+it is pure bravado, for his teeth are chattering with fear, and his
+long, thin legs waver and tremble under him visibly, like reeds shaken
+by the wind. Only one hope remains to him—that of intimidating Leander
+by loud threats and ferocious gestures, if, by a happy chance, he be a
+fellow of his own kidney. So in a terrible voice he addresses him thus:
+“Sir, do you know that I am the great Captain Matamore of the
+celebrated house of Cuerno de Cornazan, and allied to the no less
+illustrious family of Escobombardon de la Papirontonda? I am a
+descendant, on my mother’s side, of the famous Antacus, the ancient
+hero and giant.”
+
+“Well, you may be a descendant of the man in the moon for all that I
+care,” answers Leander, with a disdainful shrug of the shoulders; “what
+the devil have I to do with such absurd stuff and nonsense?”
+
+“Blood and bones! thunder and Mars! You see, sir, you shall see, and
+that very quickly, what you have to do with it, unless you take
+yourself off in the twinkling of an eye. I will give you one minute’s
+grace, for your extreme youth touches me, so take to your heels and fly
+while there is yet time. Observe me well! I am the terror of the whole
+world—my path is marked with graves—my own shadow scarcely dares to
+follow me into the perils I delight in. If I enter a besieged city, it
+is by the breach—when I quit it I pass under a triumphal arch; if I
+cross a river, it is one of blood, and the bridge is made of the bodies
+of my adversaries. I can toss a knight and his horse, both, weighted
+with armour, high into the air. I can snap elephants’ bones, as you
+would pipe-stems. When great Mars himself chances to meet me on the
+battle-field he turns and flees, dreading the weight of my arm. My
+prowess is so well known, and the terror I inspire so great, that no
+one dares to meet me face to face, and I never see anything but the
+backs of my retreating foes.”
+
+“Is it so? well, you shall meet _me_ face to face. Take _that_, and see
+how you like it!” says Leander laughing merrily, and giving him a
+sounding slap on one cheek which almost knocks the poor devil over, and
+is instantly followed by an equally hearty one on the other, to restore
+his equilibrium.
+
+During this scene Isabelle and Zerbine come out upon the balcony. The
+mischievous _soubrette_ goes into convulsions of laughter, whilst her
+mistress nods encouragingly to Leander. Meantime Pandolphe, accompanied
+by the notary, turns the corner of one of the streets and enters the
+square just in time to see Leander’s extraordinary exploit, whereat he
+is horrified and amazed. The valiant captain bellows like a bull,
+shrieks out the most frightful threats and curses, vowing all sorts of
+vengeance, and making prodigious efforts to draw his big sword, so that
+he may forthwith set about cutting up his unmannerly assailant into
+mince-meat. He tugs and strains until he is red in the face, but his
+“man-killer” cannot be induced to quit the scabbard and Leander,
+growing impatient, follows up his first attack with a vigorous, well
+directed kick, which sends the unlucky bully flying to the other side
+of the stage, where he falls all in a heap and rolls in the dust. The
+handsome, young gallant then bows gracefully to Isabelle and retires
+from the scene.
+
+Captain Matamore meanwhile lies sprawling on the ground, making
+ludicrous and ineffectual efforts to regain his feet. Pandolphe and
+Scapin go to his assistance, and when they have hauled him up, and he
+has made sure that Leander is no longer present, he roars out in a
+voice of thunder: “Scapin, quick, hoop me with iron bands or I shall
+burst! I am in such a rage! I shall explode like a bomb! and you,
+treacherous blade, do _you_ play me false at such a moment? Is it thus
+you reward me for having always tried to slake your insatiable thirst
+with the blood of the bravest and noblest? I don’t know why I have not
+already broken you into a thousand pieces, as you so richly
+deserve—false, ungrateful weapon that you are! But stay—was it to teach
+me that it is unworthy of the true warrior to desert his post?—or
+forget his sterner duties in the soft delights of love?—was it for that
+you refused to leap from your scabbard as of old? It is true, alas!
+that thus far this week I have not defeated a single army—I have killed
+neither ogre nor dragon—I have not furnished his usual rations to
+Death—and in consequence my trusty blade has rusted in the
+scabbard—that I should live to say it! rusted!—and I have been forced
+to submit to insults, and even blows, before the very eyes of my
+mistress. What a lesson! Henceforth I shall make it a rule to kill at
+least three men every morning before I break my fast, so as to be sure
+that my good sword plays freely—keep me in mind, Scapin, do you hear?”
+
+“Perhaps Leander will return before long,” says the valet; “suppose we
+all help you to draw your ‘_trusty blade_,’ so that you may be ready
+for him.”
+
+Matamore, accordingly, plants himself firmly, holding the scabbard in
+both hands, Scapin seizes the handle of the sword, Pandolphe clasps him
+firmly round the waist, the notary tries to do as much by Pandolphe’s
+stout person, and they all pull and pull. For some time the rusty old
+sword resists all their efforts, but at last yields suddenly, and the
+three fall in a confused heap on the ground, with legs and arms waving
+wildly in the air, while Matamore tumbles the other way, still clinging
+to the now empty scabbard. Picking himself up as quickly as possible he
+seizes his big sword, which has dropped from the valet’s hand, and
+waving it triumphantly says with stern emphasis, “Now Leander’s fate is
+sealed! There is but one way for him to escape certain death. He must
+emigrate to some distant planet. If he be sufficiently fool-hardy to
+remain on this globe I will find him, no matter in what distant land he
+strives to hide himself, and transfix him with this good sword—unless
+indeed he be first turned to stone by the terrible Medusa-like power of
+my eye.”
+
+In spite of all that he has witnessed, the obstinate old father still
+feels unbounded faith in Matamore’s valour, and persists in his
+lamentable intention to bestow the hand of his fair daughter upon this
+magnificent hero. Poor Isabelle bursts into tears, and declares that
+she prefers the convent to such a fate. Zerbine loudly swears that this
+marriage shall never take place, and tries to console her weeping
+mistress. Matamore attributes this rather discouraging demonstration on
+the part of Isabelle to an excess of maidenly modesty, not doubting her
+_penchant_ for himself, though he acknowledges that he has not yet
+properly paid his court, nor shown himself in all his glory to her—this
+last from prudential motives, fearing lest she might be dangerously
+dazzled and overwhelmed if he should burst upon her too suddenly in the
+full splendour of his heroic character, remembering, and taking warning
+by, the sad and terrible fate that befell Semele, when Jupiter,
+reluctantly yielding to her wishes, appeared before her with all the
+insignia of his majesty.
+
+Isabelle and her maid withdrew from the balcony, without taking any
+further notice of the valiant Matamore; but he, undaunted, wishing to
+play the lover after the most approved fashion, plants himself
+resolutely under her window and sends Scapin to fetch a guitar; upon
+which he thrums awkwardly for a while, and then accompanies it with his
+voice, in an attempt at a Spanish love song, which sounds much like the
+nocturnal caterwauling of a disconsolate tabby than anything else we
+can compare it to. A dash of cold water, mischievously thrown down on
+him by Zerbine under pretext of watering the plants in the balcony,
+does not extinguish his musical ardour. “A gentle shower from the sweet
+eyes of my Isabelle, moved to tears by this plaintive melody,” says he,
+“for it is universally conceded that I excel in music as in arms, and
+wield the lyre as skilfully as the sword.”
+
+Unfortunately for him, Leander suddenly reappears, and highly indignant
+that this miserable rascal should presume to serenade _his_ mistress,
+snatches the guitar from his hands and begins whacking him over the
+head with it, so furiously that it is quickly broken through, and
+slipping over the unhappy serenader’s head remains fixed round his
+neck, so that he is completely at the mercy of his assailant. Holding
+fast to the handle of the guitar, Leander hauls him about the stage,
+banging him against the side-scenes, dragging him forward to the
+footlights—making the most absurd scene imaginable—and finally, letting
+go of him suddenly, sends him sprawling on the ground. Fancy the
+ridiculous appearance of the unfortunate bully, who looked as if he had
+put his head through a frying-pan!
+
+But his miseries are not yet at an end. Leander’s valet had been
+arranging a clever little plot to prevent the fulfilment of the
+proposed marriage between Isabelle and Captain Matamore. At his
+instigation, a certain Doralice, very pretty and coquettish, makes her
+appearance, accompanied by a fierce-looking brother—represented by
+Hérode—carrying two immensely long rapiers under his arm, and evidently
+“spoiling for a fight.” The young lady complains that she has been
+shamefully jilted by Captain Matamore, who has deserted her for
+Isabelle, the daughter of a certain Pandolphe, and demands instant
+reparation for this outrage, adding that her brother is ready to exact
+it at the point of the sword, or avenge the insult by taking the life
+of the heartless villain who has trifled with her youthful affections.
+
+“Make haste to give this rascal his quietus,” says Pandolphe to his
+future son-in-law; “it will be only child’s play for you, who have
+fearlessly encountered, single-handed, a whole army of Saracens.”
+
+Very reluctantly, and after many most absurd grimaces, Matamore crosses
+swords with Doralice’s ferocious brother, but he trembles so that the
+latter, with one quick movement, sends his weapon flying out of his
+hand, and chastises him with the flat of his sword until he roars for
+mercy.
+
+To cap the climax, Mme. Léonarde comes upon the scene, mopping her
+streaming eyes with an enormous pocket-handkerchief, sighing and
+sobbing, and bewailing herself. She goes straight to Pandolphe and
+shows him a written promise of marriage, over Matamore’s signature,
+cleverly counterfeited; whereupon the poor wretch, convicted of such
+abominable and complicated perfidy, is assailed with a new shower of
+blows and curses, and finally condemned, by the unanimous vote of all
+present, to marry old Mme. Léonarde—who has made herself as hideous as
+possible—as a fitting punishment for all his deviltries, rodomontades,
+and cowardice. Pandolphe, thoroughly disgusted with Matamore at last,
+makes no further objections to Leander’s suit, and the curtain falls as
+he gives his consent to the marriage of the two young lovers.
+
+This _bouffonnade_, being played with great spirit, was
+enthusiastically applauded. The gentlemen were charmed with the
+mischievous, coquettish _soubrette_, who was fairly radiant with beauty
+that evening; the ladies were greatly pleased with Isabelle’s
+refinement and modesty; whilst Matamore received the well merited
+encomiums of all. It would have been impossible to find, even in the
+great Parisian theatres, an actor better fitted for the part he had
+played so admirably. Leander was much admired by all the younger
+ladies, but the gentlemen agreed, without a dissenting voice, that he
+was a horridly conceited coxcomb. Wherever he appeared indeed this was
+the universal verdict, with which he was perfectly content—caring far
+more for his handsome person, and the effect it produced upon the fair
+sex, than for his art; though, to do him justice, he was a very good
+actor. Serafina’s beauty did not fail to find admirers, and more than
+one young gentleman swore by his mustache that she was an adorable
+creature—quite regardless of the displeasure of the fair ladies within
+hearing.
+
+During the play, de Sigognac, hidden in the _coulisses_, had enjoyed
+intensely Isabelle’s charming rendering of her part, though he was more
+than a little jealous of the favour she apparently bestowed upon
+Leander—and especially at the tender tone of her voice whenever she
+spoke to him—not being yet accustomed to the feigned love-making on the
+stage, which often covers profound antipathies and real enmity. When
+the play was over, he complimented the young actress with a
+constrained, embarrassed air, which she could not help remarking, and
+perfectly understood.
+
+“You play that part admirably, Isabelle! so well that one might almost
+think there was some truth in it.”
+
+“Is it not my duty to do so?” she asked smilingly, secretly pleased at
+his displeasure; “did not the manager engage me for that?”
+
+“Doubtless,” de Sigognac replied, “but you seemed to be _really_ in
+love with that conceited fellow, who never thinks of anything but his
+own good looks, and how to display them to the best advantage.”
+
+“But the role required it. You surely would not have had me play it as
+if he disgusted me! besides, did I not preserve throughout the quiet
+demeanour of a well-bred, respectable girl? If I failed in that you
+must tell me how and where, so that I may endeavour to correct it in
+future.”
+
+“Oh no! you appeared from the beginning to the end like a modest,
+retiring, young lady—no, there is no fault to be found with you in that
+respect; your acting was inimitable—so graceful, lady-like, and
+easy—but withal so true to nature that it was almost too real.”
+
+“My dear baron, they are putting out the lights; everybody has gone but
+ourselves, and we shall be left in the dark if we don’t make haste. Be
+good enough to throw this cloak around my shoulders and accompany me to
+the château.”
+
+De Sigognac acquitted himself of this novel duty with less awkwardness
+than might have been expected, though his hands trembled a little, and
+he felt an almost irresistible desire to take her into his arms as he
+wrapped the mantle round her slender form; but he restrained himself,
+and respectfully offering his arm led her out of the orangery, which by
+this time was entirely deserted. It was, as we have said, at a little
+distance from the château, and on the level of the park, lower than the
+mansion, which stood on a high terrace, with a handsome stone
+balustrade at the edge, supporting at regular intervals large vases
+filled with blooming plants, in the pretty Italian fashion. A broad,
+easy flight of stone steps led up to the terrace, affording in their
+ascent a most imposing view of the château, which loomed up grandly
+against the evening sky. Many of the windows on this side were lighted,
+whilst the others glistened brightly as the silvery moon-beams struck
+upon them—as did also the dewdrops on the shrubbery and the
+grass-plots—as if a shower of diamonds had fallen on this favoured
+spot. Looking towards the park, the long vistas cut through the wood,
+losing themselves in the hazy blue of the distance, called to mind
+Breughel’s famous picture of Paradise, or else disclosed the far-away
+gleam of a marble statue, or the spray of a misty fountain sparkling in
+the moonlight.
+
+Isabelle and de Sigognac slowly ascended the broad steps, pausing
+frequently to turn and look back at this enchanting scene, and charmed
+with the beauty of the night walked for a little while to and fro upon
+the terrace before retiring to their rooms. As they were in full sight
+of the windows, and it was not yet very late, the modest young girl
+felt that there could be no impropriety in this little indulgence; and
+besides, the baron’s extreme timidity was very reassuring to her, and
+she knew that he would not presume upon the favour accorded to him. He
+had not made a formal avowal of his love to her, but she was as well
+aware of it as if he had, and also of his profound respect for her,
+which sentiment is indeed always an accompaniment of a worthy passion.
+She knew herself beloved—the knowledge was very sweet to her—and she
+felt herself safe from all fear of offence in the company of this
+honourable gentleman and true lover. With the delicious embarrassment
+of nascent, unavowed love, this young couple wandering by moonlight in
+a lonely garden, side by side, arm in arm, only exchanged the most
+insignificant, commonplace remarks; but if no undercurrent was betrayed
+by actual words, the trembling, voices, long pauses, stifled sighs, and
+low, confidential tones told of strong emotions beneath this quiet
+surface.
+
+The chamber assigned to the beautiful Yolande de Foix, near that of
+Mme. la Marquise, was on this side of the château, overlooking the
+park, and after she had dismissed her maid, she went to the window to
+look out once more upon the exceeding beauty of the night, and caught
+sight of de Sigognac and Isabelle, pacing slowly back and forth on the
+terrace below, without any other company than their own shadows.
+Assuredly the disdainful Yolande, haughty as a goddess, could never
+have felt anything but scorn for our poor young baron, past whom she
+had sometimes flashed in a whirlwind of light and noise in the chase,
+and whom she had so recently cruelly insulted; but still it displeased
+her to see him devoting himself thus to a beautiful young girl, to whom
+he was undoubtedly making love at that very moment. She had regarded
+him as her own humble vassal—for she had not failed to read the
+passionate admiration in his eyes whenever they met her own—and could
+not brook his shaking off his allegiance thus; her slaves ought to live
+and die in her service, even though their fidelity were never rewarded
+by a single smile. She watched them, with a frowning brow, until they
+disappeared, and then sought her couch in anything but a tranquil mood,
+haunted by the lover-like pair that had so roused her wrath, and still
+kept her long awake.
+
+De Sigognac escorted Isabelle to the door of her chamber, where he bade
+her good-night, and as he turned away towards his own, saw, at the end
+of the corridor, a mysterious looking individual closely wrapped in a
+large cloak, with one end thrown over the shoulder in Spanish fashion,
+and so drawn up round his face that only the eyes were visible; a
+slouch hat concealed his forehead, so that he was completely disguised,
+yet he drew back hurriedly into a dark corner when de Sigognac turned
+towards him, as if to avoid his notice. The baron knew that the
+comedians had all gone to their rooms already, and besides, it could
+not be one of them, for the tyrant was much larger and taller, the
+pedant a great deal stouter, Leander more slender, Matamore much
+thinner, and Scapin of quite a different make. Not wishing to appear
+curious, or to annoy the unknown in any way, de Sigognac hastened to
+enter his own room—not however without having observed that the door of
+the tapestry-hung chamber stood ajar. When he had closed his, he heard
+stealthy footsteps approaching, and presently a bolt shot home softly,
+then profound silence.
+
+About an hour later, Leander opened his door as quietly as possible,
+looked carefully to see if the corridor was empty, and then, stepping
+as lightly and cautiously as a gipsy performing the famous egg-dance,
+traversed its whole length, reached the staircase, which he descended
+as noiselessly as the phantoms in a haunted castle, and passed out into
+the moonlight; he crept along in the shadow of the wall and of some
+thick shrubbery, went down the steps into the park, and made his way to
+a sort of bower, where stood a charming statue of the mischievous
+little god of love, with his finger on his lip—an appropriate presiding
+genius of a secret rendezvous, as this evidently must be. Here he
+stopped and waited, anxiously watching the path by which he had come,
+and listening intently to catch the first sound of approaching
+footsteps.
+
+We have already related how Leander, encouraged by the smile with which
+Mme. la Marquise acknowledged his salutation, and convinced that she
+was smitten with his beauty and grace, had made bold to address a
+letter to her, which he bribed Jeanne to place secretly upon her
+mistress’s toilet-table, where she would be sure to see it. This letter
+we copy here at length, so as to give an idea of the style of
+composition employed by Leander in addressing the great ladies of whose
+favours he boasted so loudly.
+
+“Madame, or rather fair goddess of beauty, do not blame anything but
+your own incomparable charms for this intrusion upon you. I am forced
+by their radiance to emerge from the deep shadow in which I should
+remain shrouded, and approach their dazzling brilliancy—just as the
+dolphins are attracted from the depths of ocean, by the brightness of
+the fisherman’s lanterns, though they are, alas! to find destruction
+there, and perish by the sharp harpoons hurled pitilessly at them with
+unerring aim. I know but too well that the waves will be reddened by my
+blood; but as I cannot live without your favour, I do not fear to meet
+death thus. It may be strangely audacious, on my part to pretend to the
+privileges of gods and demi-gods—to die by your fair hand—but I dare to
+aspire to it; being already in despair, nothing worse can come to me,
+and I would rather incur your wrath than your scorn, or your disdain.
+In order to direct the fatal blow aright, the executioner must look
+upon his victim, and I shall have, in yielding up my life under your
+fair, cruel hand, the supreme delight of being for one blissful moment
+the object of your regard. Yes, I love you, madame! I adore you! And if
+it be a crime, I cannot repent of it. God suffers himself to be adored;
+the stars receive the admiration of the humblest shepherd; it is the
+fate of all such lofty perfection as yours to, be beloved, adored, only
+by inferior beings, since it has not its equal upon earth, nor scarcely
+indeed in heaven. I, alas! am but a poor, wandering actor, yet were I a
+haughty duke or prince, my head would not be on a level with your
+beauteous feet, and there would be, all the same, between your heavenly
+height and my kneeling adoration, as great a distance as from the
+soaring summit of the loftiest Alp to the yawning abyss far, far below.
+You must always stoop to reach a heart that adores you. I dare to say,
+madame, that mine is as proud as it is tender, and she who would deign
+not to repulse it, would find in it the most ardent love, the most
+perfect delicacy, the most absolute respect, and unbounded devotion.
+Besides, if such divine happiness be accorded me, your indulgence would
+not have to stoop so low as you might fancy. Though reduced by an
+adverse destiny and the jealous hatred of one of the great ones of the
+earth, who must be nameless, to the dire necessity of hiding myself
+under this disguise, I am not what I seem. I do not need to blush for
+my birth—rather I may glory in it. If I dared to betray the secrecy
+imposed upon me, for reasons of state, I could prove to you that most
+illustrious blood runs in my veins. Whoever may love me, noble though
+she be, will not degrade herself. But I have already said too much—my
+lips are sealed. I shall never be other than the humblest, most devoted
+of your slaves; even though, by one of those strange coincidences that
+happen sometimes in real life, I should come to be recognised by all
+the world as a king’s son. If in your great goodness you will
+condescend to show me, fair goddess of beauty, by the slightest sign,
+that my boldness has not angered you, I shall die happy, consumed by
+the burning brightness of your eyes upon the funeral pyre of my love.”
+
+How would Mme. la Marquise have received this ardent epistle? which had
+perhaps done him good service already more than once. Would she have
+looked favourably upon her humble suitor?—who can tell?—for the
+feminine heart is past comprehension. Unfortunately the letter did not
+reach her. Being entirely taken up with great ladies, Leander
+overlooked their waiting-maids, and did not trouble himself to show
+them any attentions or gallantries—wherein he made a sad mistake—for if
+the _pistoles_ he gave to Jeanne, with his precious epistle, had been
+supplemented by a few kisses and compliments, she would have taken far
+more pains to execute his commission. As she held the letter carelessly
+in her hand, the marquis chanced to pass by, and asked her idly what
+she had got there.
+
+“Oh! nothing much,” she answered scornfully, “only a note from Mr.
+Leander to Mme. la Marquise.”
+
+“From Leander? that jackanapes who plays the lover in the Rodomontades
+of Captain Matamore? What in the world can _he_ have to say to Mme. la
+Marquise? Doubtless he asks for a gratuity!”
+
+“I don’t think so,” said the spiteful waiting-maid; “when he gave me
+this letter he sighed, and rolled up his eyes like a love-sick swain.”
+
+“Give me the letter,” said the marquis, “_I_ will answer it—and don’t
+say anything about it to your mistress. Such chaps are apt to be
+impertinent—they are spoiled by admiration, and sometimes presume upon
+it.”
+
+The marquis, who dearly loved a joke, amused himself by answering
+Leander’s extraordinary epistle with one in much the same style—written
+in a delicate, lady-like hand upon perfumed paper, and sealed with a
+fanciful device—altogether a production well calculated to deceive the
+poor devil, and confirm him in his ridiculous fancies. Accordingly,
+when he regained his bed-chamber after the play was over, he found upon
+his dressing-table a note addressed to himself. He hastened to open it,
+trembling from head to foot with excitement and delight, and read as
+follows: “It is true, as you say so eloquently—too eloquently for my
+peace of mind—that goddesses can only love mortals. At eleven o’clock,
+when all the world is sunk in slumber, and no prying human eyes open to
+gaze upon her, Diana will quit her place in the skies above and descend
+to earth, to visit the gentle shepherd, Endymion—not upon Mount Latmus,
+but in the park—at the foot of the statue of silent love. The handsome
+shepherd must be sure to have fallen asleep ere Diana appears, so as
+not to shock the modesty of the immortal goddess—who will come without
+her cortege of nymphs, wrapped in a cloud and devoid of her silvery
+radiance.”
+
+We will leave to the reader’s imagination the delirious joy that filled
+to overflowing the foolish heart of the susceptible Leander, who was
+fooled to the top of his bent, when he read this precious note, which
+exceeded his wildest hopes. He immediately began his preparations to
+play the part of Endymion—poured a whole bottle of perfume upon his
+hair and hands, chewed a flower of mace to make his breath sweet,
+twisted his glossy curls daintily round his white fingers—though not a
+hair was awry—and then waited impatiently for the moment when he should
+set forth to seek the rendezvous at the foot of the statue of silent
+love—where we left him anxiously awaiting the arrival of his goddess.
+He shivered nervously from excitement, and the penetrating chilliness
+of the damp night air, as he stood motionless at the appointed spot. He
+trembled at the falling of a leaf—the crackling of the gravel under his
+feet whenever he moved them sounded so loud in his ears that he felt
+sure it would be heard at the château. The mysterious darkness of the
+wood filled him with awe, and the great, black trees seemed like
+terrible genii, threatening him. The poor wretch was not exactly
+frightened, but not very far from it. Mme. la Marquise was tardy—Diana
+was leaving her faithful Endymion too long cooling his heels in the
+heavy night dew. At last he thought he heard heavy footsteps
+approaching,—but they could not be those of his goddess—he must be
+mistaken—goddesses glide so lightly over the sward that not even a
+blade of grass is crushed beneath their feet—and, indeed, all was
+silent again.
+
+“Unless Mme. la Marquise comes quickly, I fear she will find only a
+half-frozen lover, instead of an ardent, impatient one,” murmured
+Leander with chattering teeth; and even as the words escaped him four
+dark shadows advanced noiselessly from behind upon the expectant
+gallant. Two of these shadows, which were the substantial bodies of
+stout rascals in the service of the Marquis de Bruyères, seized him
+suddenly by the arms, which they held pinioned closely to his sides,
+while the other two proceeded to rain blows alternately upon his
+back—keeping perfect time as their strokes fell thick and fast. Too
+proud to run the risk of making his woes public by an outcry, their
+astonished victim took his punishment bravely—without making a sound.
+Mutius Scaevola did not bear himself more heroically while his right
+hand lay among the burning coals upon the altar in the presence of
+Porsenna, than did Leander under his severe chastisement. When it was
+finished the two men let go of their prisoner, all four saluted him
+gravely, and retired as noiselessly as they had come, without a single
+word being spoken.
+
+What a terrible fall was this! that famous one of Icarus himself,
+tumbling down headlong from the near neighbourhood of the sun, was not
+a greater. Battered, bruised, sore and aching all over, poor Leander,
+crestfallen and forlorn, limping painfully, and suppressing his groans
+with Spartan resolution, crept slowly back to his own room; but so
+overweening was his self-conceit that he never even suspected that a
+trick had been played upon him. He said to himself that without doubt
+Mme. la Marquise had been watched and followed by her jealous husband,
+who had overtaken her before she reached the rendezvous in the park,
+carried her back to the château by main strength, and forced her, with
+a poniard at her throat, to confess all. He pictured her to himself on
+her knees, with streaming eyes, disordered dress and dishevelled hair,
+imploring her stern lord and master to be merciful—to have pity upon
+her and forgive her this once—vowing by all she held sacred never to be
+faithless to him again, even in thought. Suffering and miserable as he
+was after his tremendous thrashing, he yet pitied and grieved over the
+poor lady who had put herself in such peril for his sake, never
+dreaming that she was in blissful ignorance of the whole affair, and at
+that very moment sleeping peacefully in her luxurious bed. As the poor
+fellow crept cautiously and painfully along the corridor leading to his
+room and to those of the other members of the troupe he had the
+misfortune to be detected by Scapin, who, evidently on the watch for
+him, was peeping out of his own half-open door, grinning, grimacing,
+and gesticulating significantly, as he noted the other’s limping gait
+and drooping figure.
+
+In vain did Leander strive to straighten himself up and assume a gay,
+careless air; his malicious tormentor was not in the least taken in by
+it.
+
+The next morning the comedians prepared to resume their journey; no
+longer, however, in the slow-moving, groaning ox-cart, which they were
+glad, indeed, to exchange for the more roomy, commodious vehicle that
+the tyrant had been able to hire for them—thanks to the marquis’s
+liberality—in which they could bestow themselves and their belongings
+comfortably, and to which was harnessed four stout draught horses.
+
+Leander and Zerbine were both rather late in rising, and the last to
+make their appearance—the former with a doleful countenance, despite
+his best efforts to conceal his sufferings under a cheerful exterior,
+the latter beaming with satisfaction, and with smiles for everybody.
+She was decidedly inclined to be munificent towards her companions, and
+bestow upon them some of the rich spoils that had fallen plentifully to
+her share—taking quite a new position among them—even the duenna
+treating her with a certain obsequious, wheedling consideration, which
+she had been far from ever showing her before. Scapin, whose keen
+observation nothing ever escaped, noticed that her box had suddenly
+doubled in weight, by some magic or other, and drew his own conclusions
+therefrom. Zerbine was a universal favourite, and no one begrudged her
+her good fortune, save Serafina, who bit her lip till it bled, and
+murmured indignantly, “Shameless creature!” but the _soubrette_
+pretended not to hear it, content for the moment with the signal
+humiliation of the arch-coquette.
+
+At last the new Thespian chariot was ready for a start, and our
+travellers bade adieu to the hospitable château, where they had been so
+honourably received and so generously treated, and which they all,
+excepting poor Leander, quitted with regret. The tyrant dwelt upon the
+bountiful supply of _pistoles_ he had received; the pedant upon the
+capital wines of which he had drunk his fill; Matamore upon the
+enthusiastic applause that had been lavished upon him by that
+aristocratic audience; Zerbine upon the pieces of rich silk, the golden
+necklaces and other like treasures with which her chest was replete—no
+wonder that it was heavy—while de Sigognac and Isabelle, thinking only
+of each other, and happy in being together, did not even turn their
+heads for one last glimpse of the handsome Château de Bruyere.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+As may be readily supposed, the comedians were well satisfied with the
+kind treatment they had received during their brief sojourn at the
+Château de Bruyères; such a piece of good fortune did not often fall to
+their lot, and they rejoiced in it exceedingly. The tyrant had
+distributed among them each one’s share of the marquis’s liberal
+remuneration for their services, and it was wonderfully pleasant to
+them to have broad pieces in the purses usually so scantily supplied,
+and not infrequently quite empty. Zerbine, who was evidently rejoicing
+over some secret source of satisfaction, accepted good-naturedly all
+the taunts and jokes of her companions upon the irresistible power of
+her charms. She was triumphant, and could afford to be laughed
+at—indeed, joined heartily in the general merriment at her own
+expense—while Serafina sulked openly, with “envy, hatred, and malice”
+filling her heart. Poor Leander, still smarting from his severe
+beating, sore and aching, unable to find an easy position, and
+suffering agonies from the jolting of the chariot, found it hard work
+to join in the prevailing gaiety.
+
+When he thought no one was looking at him, he would furtively rub his
+poor, bruised shoulders and arms with the palm of his hand, which
+stealthy manœuvre might very readily have passed unobserved by the rest
+of the company, but did not escape the wily valet, who was always on
+the lookout for a chance to torment Leander; his monstrous self-conceit
+being intensely exasperating to him. A harder jolt than usual having
+made the unfortunate gallant groan aloud, Scapin immediately opened his
+attack, feigning to feel the liveliest commiseration for him.
+
+“My poor Leander, what is the matter with you this morning? You moan
+and sigh as if you were in great agony! Are you really suffering so
+acutely? You seem to be all battered and bruised, like the Knight of
+the Sorrowful Countenance, after he had capered stark naked, for a love
+penance, among the rocks in the Sierra Morena, in humble imitation of
+his favourite hero, Amadis de Gaul. You look as if you had not slept at
+all last night, and had been lying upon hard sticks, rods, or clubs,
+instead of in a soft, downy bed, such as were given to the rest of us
+in the fine château yonder. Tell us, I pray you, did not Morpheus once
+visit you all the night through?”
+
+“Morpheus may have remained shut up in his cavern, but Cupid is a
+wanderer by night, who does not need a lantern to find the way to those
+fortunate individuals he favours with a visit,” Leander replied, hoping
+to divert attention from the tell-tale bruises, that he had fancied
+were successfully concealed.
+
+“I am only a humble valet, and have had no experience in affairs of
+gallantry. I never paid court to a fine lady in my life; but still, I
+do know this much, that the mischievous little god, Cupid, according to
+all the poets, aims his arrows at the hearts of those he wishes to
+wound, instead of using his bow upon their backs.”
+
+“What in the world do you mean?” Leander interrupted quickly, growing
+seriously uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking.
+
+“Oh! nothing; only that I see, in spite of all your efforts to hide it
+with that handkerchief knotted so carefully round your neck, that you
+have there on the back of it a long, black mark, which to-morrow will
+be indigo, the day after green, and then yellow, until it fades away
+altogether, like any other bruise—a black mark that looks devilishly
+like the authentic flourish which accompanies the signature of a good,
+stout club on a calf’s skin—or on vellum, if that term pleases you
+better.”
+
+“Ah! my good Scapin, you do not understand such matters,” Leander
+replied, a scarlet flush mounting to the very roots of his hair, and at
+his wits’ ends to know how to silence his tormentor; “doubtless some
+dead and gone beauty, who loved me passionately during her lifetime,
+has come back and kissed me there while I was sleeping; as is well
+known, the contact of the lips of the dead leave strange, dark marks,
+like bruises, on human flesh, which the recipient of the mysterious
+caress is astonished to find upon awaking.”
+
+“Your defunct beauty visited you and bestowed her mysterious caress
+very apropos,” remarked Scapin, incredulously; “but I would be willing
+to take my oath that yonder vigorous kiss had been imprinted upon your
+lily-white neck by the stinging contact of a stout club.”
+
+“Unmannerly jester and scoffer that you are! is nothing sacred to you?”
+broke in Leander, with some show of heat.
+
+“You push my modesty too far. I endeavoured delicately to put off upon
+a dead beauty what I should have ascribed to a living one. Ignorant and
+unsophisticated though you claim to be, have you never heard of kisses
+so ardent that such traces of them are left?—where pearly teeth have
+closed upon the soft flesh, and made their mark on the white skin?”
+
+“Memorem dente notam,” interrupted the pedant, charmed to have a chance
+to quote Horace.
+
+“This explanation appears to me very judicious,” Scapin said; then,
+with a low bow to the pedant, “and is sustained by unquestionable if
+incomprehensible authority; but the mark is so long that this nocturnal
+beauty of yours, dead or alive, must have had in her lovely mouth that
+famous tooth which the three Gorgon sisters owned among them, and
+passed about from one to the other.”
+
+This sally was followed by a roar of laughter, and Leander, beside
+himself with rage, half rose, to throw himself upon Scopin, and
+chastise him then and there for his insufferable impertinence; but he
+was so stiff and sore from his own beating, and the pain in his back,
+which was striped like a zebra’s, was so excruciating, that he sank
+back into his place with a suppressed groan, and concluded to postpone
+his revenge to some more convenient season. Hérode and Blazius, who
+were accustomed to settle such little disputes, insisted upon their
+making up their differences, and a sort of reconciliation took
+place-Scapin promising never to allude to the subject again, but
+managing to give poor Leander one or two more digs that made him wince
+even as he did so.
+
+During this absurd altercation the chariot had been making steady
+progress, and soon arrived at an open space where another great
+post-road crossed the one they were following, at right angles. A large
+wooden crucifix, much the worse for long exposure to the weather, had
+been erected upon a grassy mound at the intersection of the two
+highways. A group, consisting of two men and three mules, stood at its
+foot, apparently awaiting some one’s arrival. As they approached, one
+of the mules, as if weary of standing still, impatiently shook its
+head, which was gaily decorated with bright, many-coloured tufts and
+tassels, and set all the little silver bells about it ringing sharply.
+Although a pair of leather blinkers, decked with gay embroidery,
+effectually prevented its seeing to the right or to the left, it
+evidently was aware of the approach of the chariot before the men’s
+senses had given them any intimation of it.
+
+“The Colonelle shakes her ear-trumpets and shows her teeth,” said one
+of them; “they cannot be far off now.”
+
+In effect, after a very few minutes the chariot was seen approaching,
+and presently rolled into the open space. Zerbine, who sat in front,
+glanced composedly at the little group of men and mules standing there,
+without betraying any surprise at seeing them.
+
+“By Jove! those are fine beasts yonder,” exclaimed the tyrant,
+“splendid Spanish mules, especially that foremost one; they can easily
+do their fifteen or twenty leagues a day, I’ll venture, and if we were
+mounted on the like we should soon find ourselves in Paris. But what
+the devil are they doing in this lonely place? it must be a relay,
+waiting for some rich seignior travelling this way.”
+
+“No,” said the duenna, “that foremost mule is intended for a lady—don’t
+you see the cushions and housings?”
+
+“In that case,” he replied, “there must be an abduction in the wind;
+those two equerries, in gray liveries, certainly have a very
+mysterious, knowing sort of an air.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” said Zerbine, demurely, with a significant
+little smile and shrug.
+
+“Can it be possible that the lady is among us?” asked Scapin; “one of
+the men is coming this way by himself, as if he desired to parley
+before resorting to violence.”
+
+“Oh! there’ll be no need,” said Serafina, casting a scornful glance at
+the _soubrette_, who returned it with interest.
+
+“There are bold creatures that go of their own accord, without waiting
+to be carried off.”
+
+“And there are others who are NOT carried off, that would like to be,”
+retorted the _soubrette_, “but the desire is not sufficient; a few
+charms are needed too.”
+
+At this point the equerry who had advanced to meet the chariot made a
+sign to them to stop, and, cap in hand, politely asked if Mlle. Zerbine
+was among them. The _soubrette_ herself answered this inquiry in the
+affirmative, and sprang to the ground as lightly as a bird.
+
+“Mademoiselle, I am at your disposal,” said the equerry to her, in a
+respectful and gallant tone. Zerbine shook out her skirts, adjusted her
+wraps, and then, turning towards the comedians, delivered this little
+harangue: “My dear comrades, I pray you pardon me for quitting you in
+this unceremonious manner. There are times when Opportunity offers
+itself suddenly for our acceptance, and we must seize it without delay,
+or lose it altogether; he would be a fool who let it slip through his
+fingers, for once relinquished it returns not again. The face of
+Fortune, which until now has always frowned upon me, at last vouchsafes
+me a smile, and I am delighted to enjoy its brightness, even though it
+may prove to be only fleeting. In my humble role of _soubrette_, I
+could not aspire to, or expect to receive, the admiration of rich lords
+and gentlemen—that is for my betters; and now that a happy chance has
+thrown such an unhoped-for piece of good luck in my way, you will not
+blame me, I am confident, for gladly accepting it. Let me take my
+belongings then—which are packed in the chariot with the others—and
+receive my adieux. I shall be sure to rejoin you some day, sooner or
+later, at Paris, for I am a born actress; the theatre was my first
+love, and I have never long been faithless to it.”
+
+The two men accordingly, aided by the comedians, took Zerbine’s boxes
+out of the chariot, and adjusted them carefully on the pack-mule. The
+_soubrette_ made a sweeping curtsey to her friends in the chariot, and
+threw a kiss to Isabelle from her finger tips, then, aided by one of
+the equerries, sprang to her place behind him, on the back of the
+Colonelle, as lightly and gracefully as if she had been taught the art
+of mounting in an equestrian academy, nodded a last farewell, and
+striking the mule sharply with the high heel of her pretty little shoe,
+set off at a round pace.
+
+“Good-bye, and good luck to you, Zerbine,” cried the comedians
+heartily, one and all; save only Serafina, who was more furiously angry
+with her than ever.
+
+“This is an unfortunate thing for us,” said the tyrant regretfully, “a
+serious loss. I wish with all my heart that we could have kept that
+capital little actress with us; we shall not easily find any one to
+replace her, even in Paris; she is really incomparable in her own
+role—but she was not in any way bound to stay with us a moment longer
+than she chose. We shall have to substitute a duenna, or a chaperon,
+for the _soubrette_ in our pieces for the present; it will be less
+pleasing of course, but still Mme. Léonarde here is a host in herself,
+and we shall manage to get on very nicely, I dare say.”
+
+The chariot started on its way again as he spoke, at rather a better
+pace than the lumbering old ox-cart. They were travelling through a
+part of the country now which was a great contrast to the desolate
+Landes. To the Baron de Sigognac, who had never been beyond their
+desolate expanse before, it was a revelation, and he could not
+sufficiently admire the richness and beauty of this region. The
+productive, red soil was highly cultivated—not an inch of ground
+neglected—comfortable, often handsome, stone houses scattered along
+their route at frequent intervals, and surrounded by large, luxuriant
+gardens, spoke of a well-to-do population. On each side of the broad,
+smooth road was a row of fine trees, whose falling leaves lay piled
+upon the ground in yellow heaps, or whirled in the wind before de
+Sigognac and Isabelle, as they walked along beneath their spreading
+branches, finding the exercise a welcome relief after sitting for a
+long time in the chariot in rather a cramped position. One day as they
+were walking thus side by side, de Sigognac said to his fair companion,
+“I wish you would tell me, Isabelle, how it has happened that you, with
+all the characteristics of a lady of lofty lineage in the innate
+modesty and dignity of your manners, the refinement and purity of your
+language, the incomparable grace of your carriage, the elevation of
+your sentiments upon all subjects, to say nothing of the delicate,
+aristocratic type of your beauty—should have become a member of a
+wandering band of players like this—good, honest people no doubt, but
+not of the same rank or race as yourself.”
+
+“Don’t fancy that I am a princess in disguise, or a great lady reduced
+to earn my living in this way,” she replied, with an adorable smile,
+“merely because of some good qualities you think you have discovered in
+me. The history of my life is a very simple, uneventful one, but since
+you show such kind interest in me I will gladly relate it to you. So
+far from being brought down to the station I occupy by some grievous
+catastrophe or romantic combination of adverse circumstances, I was
+born to the profession of an actress—the chariot of Thespis was, so to
+say, my birthplace. My mother, who was a very beautiful woman and
+finished actress, played the part of tragic princess. She did not
+confine her role to the theatre, but exacted as much deference and
+respect from those around her when off the stage, as she received upon
+it, until she came to consider herself a veritable princess. She had
+all the majesty and grace of one, and was greatly admired and courted,
+but never would suffer any of the gallants, who flutter about pretty
+actresses like moths around a candle, to approach her—holding herself
+entirely above them, and keeping her good name unsullied through
+everything. An account of this unusual conduct on the part of a
+beautiful young actress chanced to reach the ears of a certain rich and
+powerful prince, who was very much struck and interested by it, and
+immediately sought an introduction to my mother. As his actual rank and
+position equalled hers of imaginary princess, she received his
+attentions with evident pleasure. He was young, handsome, eloquent, and
+very much in love with her—what wonder then that she yielded at last to
+his impassioned entreaties, and gave herself to him, though, because of
+his high station, he could not do as his heart dictated, and make her
+his wife. They were very happy in each other’s love, and after I was
+born my young father was devoted to me.”
+
+“Ah!” interrupted de Sigognac, eagerly, “that explains it all; princely
+blood does flow in your veins. I knew it—was sure of it!”
+
+“Their happiness continued,” resumed Isabelle, “until reasons of state
+made it necessary for him to tear himself away from her, to go on a
+diplomatic mission to one of the great capitals of Europe; and ere his
+return to France an illustrious marriage had been arranged for him by
+his family, with the sanction of royalty, which he found it impossible
+to evade. In these cruel circumstances he endeavoured to do everything
+in his power to soften the pain of this rupture to my poor
+mother—himself almost broken-hearted at being forced to leave her—and
+made every possible arrangement for her comfort and well-being;
+settling a generous income on her, and providing lavishly for my
+maintenance and education. But she would accept nothing from him—she
+could not receive his money without his love—‘all or nothing’ was her
+motto; and taking me with her she fled from him, successfully
+concealing her place of refuge. She soon after joined a band of players
+travelling through the provinces, and resumed her old role; but her
+heart was broken, and she gradually faded away, dying at last when I
+was only about seven years old. Even then I used to appear upon the
+stage in parts suitable to my age. I was a precocious little thing in
+many ways. My mother’s death caused me a grief far more acute than most
+children, even a good deal older than I was then, are capable of
+feeling. How well I remember being punished because I refused to act
+the part of one of Medea’s children, the day after she died. But my
+grief was not very long-lived—I was but a child after all, and the
+actors and actresses of the troupe were so good to me, always petting
+me, and devising all sorts of ways to please and divert me—theatrical
+people are proverbially kind to comrades in distress, you know. The
+pedant, who belonged to our company, and looked just as old and
+wrinkled then as he does now, took the greatest interest in me,
+constituted himself my master, and taught me thoroughly and
+indefatigably all the secrets of the histrionic art—taking unwearied
+pains with me. I could not have had a better teacher; perhaps you do
+not know that he has a great reputation, even in Paris. You will wonder
+that a man of his fame and attainments should be found in a strolling
+company of players like this, but his unfortunate habits of
+intemperance have been the cause of all his troubles. He was professor
+of elocution in one of the celebrated colleges, holding an enviable and
+lucrative position, but lost it because of his inveterate
+irregularities. He is his own worst enemy, poor Blazius! In the midst
+of all the confusion and serious disadvantages of a vagabond life, I
+have always been able to hold myself somewhat apart, and remain pure
+and innocent. My companions, who have known me from babyhood, look upon
+me as a sister or daughter, and treat me with invariable affection and
+respect; and as for the men of the outside world who haunt the
+_coulisses_, and seem to think that an actress is public property, off
+the stage as well as upon it, I have thus far managed to keep them at a
+distance—continuing in real life my role of modest, ingenuous, young
+girl, without hypocrisy or false pretensions.”
+
+Thus, as they strolled along together, and could talk confidentially
+without fear of listeners, Isabelle related the story of her life to de
+Sigognac, who was a most attentive and delighted listener, and ever
+more and more charmed with his fair divinity.
+
+“And the name of the prince,” said he, after a short pause, “do you
+remember it?”
+
+“I fear that it might be dangerous to my peace to disclose it,” she
+replied; “but it is indelibly engraven upon my memory.”
+
+“Are there any proofs remaining to you of his connection with your
+mother?”
+
+“I have in my possession a seal-ring bearing his coat of arms” Isabelle
+answered; “it is the only jewel of all he had lavished upon her that my
+mother kept, and that entirely on account of the associations connected
+with it, not for its intrinsic value, which is small. If you would like
+to see it I will be very glad to show it to you some day.”
+
+It would be too tedious to follow our travellers step by step on their
+long journey, so we will skip over a few days—which passed quietly,
+without any incidents worth recording—and rejoin them as they were
+drawing near to the ancient town of Poitiers. In the meantime their
+receipts had not been large, and hard times had come to the wandering
+comedians. The money received from the Marquis de Bruyères had all been
+spent, as well as the modest sum in de Sigognac’s purse-who had
+contributed all that he possessed to the common fund, in spite of the
+protestations of his comrades in distress. The chariot was drawn now by
+a single horse-instead of the four with which they had set off so
+triumphantly from the Château de Bruyères—and such a horse! a
+miserable, old, broken-down hack, whose ribs were so prominent that he
+looked as if he lived upon barrel-hoops instead of oats and hay; his
+lack-lustre eyes, drooping head, halting gait, and panting breath
+combined to make him a most pitiable object, and he plodded on at a
+snail’s pace, looking as if he might drop down dead on the road at any
+moment. Only the three women were in the chariot—the men all walking,
+so as to relieve their poor, jaded beast as much as possible. The
+weather was bitterly cold, and they wrapped their cloaks about them and
+strode on in silence, absorbed in their own melancholy thoughts.
+
+Poor de Sigognac, well-nigh discouraged, asked himself despondingly
+whether it would not have been better for him to have remained in the
+dilapidated home of his fathers, even at the risk of starving to death
+there in silence and seclusion, than run the risk of such hardships in
+company with these Bohemians. His thoughts flew back to his good old
+Pierre, to Bayard, Miraut, and Beelzebub, the faithful companions of
+his solitude; his heart was heavy within him, and at the sudden
+remembrance of his dear old friends and followers his throat contracted
+spasmodically, and he almost sobbed aloud; but he looked back at
+Isabelle, wrapped in her cloak and sitting serenely in the front of the
+chariot, and took fresh courage, feeling glad that he could be near her
+in this dark hour, to do all that mortal man, struggling against such
+odds, could compass for her comfort and protection. She responded to
+his appealing glance with a sweet smile, that quickened his pulses and
+sent a thrill of joy through every nerve. She did not seem at all
+disheartened or cast down by the greatness of their misery. Her heart
+was satisfied and happy; why should she be crushed by mere physical
+suffering and discomforts? She was very brave, although apparently so
+delicate and fragile, and inspired de Sigognac, who could have fallen
+down and worshipped her as he gazed up into her beautiful eyes, with
+some of her own undaunted courage.
+
+The great, barren plain they were slowly traversing, with a few dreary
+skeletons of misshapen old trees scattered here and there, and not a
+dwelling in sight, was not calculated to dissipate the melancholy of
+the party. Save one or two aged peasants trudging listlessly along,
+bending under the weight of the fagots they carried on their backs,
+they had not seen a human being all day long. The spiteful magpies,
+that seemed to be the only inhabitants of this dreary waste, danced
+about in front of them, chattering and almost laughing at them, as if
+rejoicing in and making fun of their miseries. A searching north wind,
+that penetrated to the very marrow in their bones, was blowing, and the
+few white flakes that flew before it now and then were the
+_avant-couriers_ of the steady fall of snow that began as nightfall
+approached.
+
+“It would appear,” said the pedant, who was walking behind the chariot
+trying to find shelter from the icy wind, “that the celestial housewife
+up above has been plucking her geese, and is shaking the feathers out
+of her apron down upon us. She might a great deal better send us the
+geese themselves. I for one would be glad enough to eat 114 them,
+without being very particular as to whether they were done to a turn,
+and without sauce or seasoning either.”
+
+“Yes, so would I, even without salt,” added the tyrant, “for my stomach
+is empty. I could welcome now an omelette such as they gave us this
+morning, and swallow it without winking, though the eggs were so far
+gone that the little chicks were almost ready to peep.”
+
+By this time de Sigognac also had taken refuge behind the
+chariot—Isabelle having been driven from her seat in front to a place
+in the interior by the increasing violence of the storm-and Blazius
+said to him, “This is a trying time, my lord, and I regret very much
+that you should have to share our bad fortune; but I trust it will be
+only of brief duration, and although we do get on but slowly, still
+every step brings us nearer to Paris.”
+
+“I was not brought up in the lap of luxury,” de Sigognac answered, “and
+I am not a man to be frightened by a few snowflakes and a biting wind;
+but it is for these poor, suffering women that I am troubled; they are
+exposed to such severe hardships—cold, privations, fatigue—and we
+cannot adequately shelter and protect them, do what we will.”
+
+“But you must remember that they are accustomed to roughing it, my dear
+baron, and what would be simply unendurable to many of their sex, who
+have never been subjected to such tests, they meet bravely, and make
+light of, in a really remarkable manner.”
+
+The storm grew worse and worse; the snow, driven with great force by
+the wind, penetrated into the chariot where Isabelle, Serafina, and
+Mme. Léonarde had taken refuge among the luggage, in spite of all that
+could be done to keep it out, and had soon covered their wraps with a
+coating of white. The poor horse was scarcely able to make any headway
+at all against the wind and snow; his feet slipped at every step, and
+he panted painfully. Hérode went to his head, and took hold of the
+bridle with his strong hand to lead him and try to help him along,
+while the pedant, de Sigognac, and Scapin put their shoulders to the
+wheels at every inequality in the road and whenever he paused or
+stumbled badly, and Leander cracked the whip loudly to encourage the
+poor beast; it would have been downright cruelty to strike him. As to
+Matamore, he had lingered behind, and they were expecting every moment
+to see his tall, spare figure emerge from the gloom with rapid strides
+and rejoin them. Finally the storm became so violent that it was
+impossible to face it any longer; and though it was so important that
+they should reach the next village before the daylight was all gone,
+they were forced to halt, and turn the chariot, with its back to the
+wind. The poor old horse, utterly exhausted by this last effort,
+slipped and fell, and without making any attempt to rise lay panting on
+the ground. Our unhappy travellers found themselves in a sad
+predicament indeed—wet, cold, tired and hungry, all in the superlative
+degree—blinded by the driving snow, and lost, without any means of
+getting on save their own powers of locomotion, in the midst of a great
+desert—for the white covering which now lay upon everything had
+obliterated almost all traces of the road; they did not know which way
+to turn, or what to do. For the moment they all took refuge in the
+chariot, until the greatest violence of the tempest should be over,
+huddled close together for warmth, and striving not to lose heart
+entirely. Presently the wind quieted down all of a sudden, as if it had
+expended its fury and wanted to rest; but the snow continued to fall
+industriously, though noiselessly, and as far as the eye could reach
+through the gathering darkness the surface of the earth was white, as
+if it had been wrapped in a winding sheet.
+
+“What in the world has become of Matamore?” cried Blazius suddenly;
+“has the wind carried him off to the moon I wonder?”
+
+“Yes; where can he be?” said the tyrant, in an anxious tone; “I can’t
+see him anywhere—I thought he was among us; perhaps he is lying asleep
+among the stage properties at the back of the chariot; I have known him
+curl himself down there for a nap before now. Holloa! Matamore! where
+are you? wake up and answer us!” But no Matamore responded, and there
+was no movement under the great heap of scenery, and decorations of all
+sorts, stowed away there.
+
+“Holloa! Matamore!” roared Hérode again, in his loudest tones, which
+might have waked the seven sleepers in their cavern, and roused their
+dog too.
+
+“We have not seen him here in the chariot at all today,” said one of
+the actresses; “we thought he was walking with the others.”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed Blazius, “this is very strange. I hope no
+accident has happened to the poor fellow.”
+
+“Undoubtedly he has taken shelter in the worst of the storm on the lee
+side of the trunk of a tree somewhere,” said de Sigognac, “and will
+soon come up with us.”
+
+After a short discussion, it was decided to wait where they were a few
+minutes longer, and then if he did not make his appearance go in search
+of him. They anxiously watched the way by which they had come, but no
+human form appeared on the great expanse of white, and the darkness was
+falling rapidly upon the earth, as it does after the short days of
+December. The distant howling of a dog now came to their ears, to add
+to the lugubrious effect of their surroundings, but they were all so
+troubled at the strange absence of their comrade that their own
+individual miseries were for the moment forgotten. The doleful howling,
+so far away at first, gradually became louder, until at last a large,
+black dog came in sight, and sitting down upon the snow, still a long
+distance from them, raised his head so that his muzzle pointed upward
+to the sky and howled, as if in the greatest distress.
+
+“I’m afraid something terrible has happened to our poor Matamore,”
+cried the tyrant, and his voice trembled a little; “that dog howls as
+if for a death.”
+
+At this speech the two young women turned even paler than they had been
+before, if that were possible, and made the sign of the cross devoutly,
+while Isabelle murmured a prayer.
+
+“We must go in search of him without a moment’s delay,” said Blazius,
+“and take the lantern with us; it will as a guiding star to him if he
+has wandered off from the road, as is very probable, with everything
+covered with snow like this.”
+
+They accordingly lighted their horn lantern, and set off with all
+possible speed—the tyrant, Blazius, and de Sigognac—whilst Scapin and
+Leander remained with the three women in the chariot. The dog,
+meantime, kept up his dismal howling without a moment’s intermission as
+the three men hastened towards him. The darkness and the newfallen
+snow, which had completely obliterated all traces of footsteps, made
+the task of looking for the missing actor a very difficult one, and
+after walking nearly a mile without seeing a sign of him, they began to
+fear that their search would prove fruitless. They kept calling,
+“Matamore! Matamore!” but there was no reply, nothing to be heard but
+the howling of the large black dog, at intervals now, or the scream of
+an owl, disturbed by the light of the lantern. At last de Sigognac,
+with his penetrating vision, thought he could make out a recumbent
+figure at the foot of a tree, a little way off from the road, and they
+all pressed forward to the spot he indicated.
+
+It was indeed poor Matamore, sitting on the ground, with his back
+against the tree, and his long legs, stretched out in front of him,
+quite buried under the snow; he did not stir at the approach of his
+comrades, or answer their joyful shout of recognition, and when
+Blazius, alarmed at this strange apathy, hastened forward and threw the
+light of the lantern upon his face, he had nearly let it fall from
+fright at what it revealed. Poor Matamore was dead, stiff and stark,
+with wide-open, sunken eyes staring out vaguely into the darkness, and
+his ghastly face wearing that pinched, indescribable expression which
+the mortal puts on when the spirit that dwelt within has fled. The
+three who had found him thus were inexpressibly shocked, and stood for
+a moment speechless and motionless, in the presence of death. The
+tyrant was the first to recover himself, and hoping that some sign of
+life might yet remain he stooped and took the cold hand into his, and
+essayed to find a pulse at the wrist—in vain! it was still and icy.
+Unwilling yet to admit that the vital spark was extinct, he asked
+Blazius for his gourd, which he always carried with him, and
+endeavoured to pour a few drops of wine into his mouth—in vain! the
+teeth were tightly locked together, and the wine trickled from between
+his pale lips, and dropped slowly down upon his breast.
+
+“Leave him in peace! do not disturb these poor remains!” said de
+Sigognac in trembling tones; “don’t you see that he is dead?” “Alas!
+you are right,” Blazius added, “he is dead; dead as Cheops in the great
+pyramid. Poor fellow! he must have been confused by the blinding snow,
+and unable to make his way against that terrible wind, turned aside and
+sat down under this tree, to wait until its violence should be spent;
+but he had not flesh enough on his bones to keep them warm, and must
+have been quickly frozen through and through. He has starved himself
+more than ever lately, in hopes of producing a sensation at Paris, and
+he was thinner than any greyhound before. Poor Matamore! thou art out
+of the way of all trouble now; no more blows, and kicks, and curses for
+thee, my friend, whether on or off the stage, and thou wilt be laughed
+at no more forever.”
+
+“What shall we do about his body?” interrupted the more practical
+tyrant. “We cannot leave it here for dogs, and wolves, and birds of
+prey to devour—though indeed I almost doubt whether they would touch
+it, there is so little flesh upon his bones.”
+
+“No, certainly, we cannot leave him here,” Blazius replied; “he was a
+good and loyal comrade; he deserves better of us than that; we will not
+abandon him, poor Matamore! He is not heavy; you take his head and I
+will take his feet, and we will carry him to the chariot. To-morrow
+morning we will bury him as decently as we can in some quiet, retired
+spot, where he will not be likely to be disturbed. Unfortunately we
+cannot do better for him than that, for we, poor actors, are excluded
+by our hard-hearted and very unjust step-mother, the church, from her
+cemeteries; she denies us the security and comfort of being laid to
+rest for our last long sleep in consecrated ground. After having
+devoted our lives to the amusement of the human race—the highest as
+well as the more lowly among them, and faithful sons and daughters of
+holy church too—we must be thrown into the next ditch when the end
+comes, like dead dogs and horses. Now, Hérode, are you ready? and will
+you, my lord, lead the way with the lantern?”
+
+The mournful little procession moved slowly forward; the howling dog
+was quiet at last, as if his duty was done, and a deathlike stillness
+prevailed around them. It was well that there were no passers-by at
+that hour; it would have been a strange sight, almost a frightful one,
+for any such, for they might well have supposed that a hideous crime
+had been committed; the two men bearing the dead body away at night,
+lighted by the third with his lantern, which threw their shadows, long,
+black and misshapen, upon the startling whiteness of the snow, as they
+advanced with measured tread. Those who had remained with the chariot
+saw from afar the glimmer of de Sigognac’s lantern, and wondered why
+they walked so slowly, not perceiving at that distance their sad
+burden. Scapin and Leander hastened forward to meet them, and as soon
+as they got near enough to see them distinctly the former shouted to
+them—“Well, what is the matter? why are you carrying Matamore like
+that? is he ill, or has he hurt himself?”
+
+“He is not ill,” answered Blazius, quietly, as they met, “and nothing
+can ever hurt him again—he is cured forever of the strange malady we
+call life, which always ends in death.”
+
+“Is he really dead?” Scapin asked, with a sob he did not even try to
+suppress, as he bent to look at the face of the poor comic actor, for
+he had a tender heart under his rough exterior, and had cherished a
+very sincere affection for poor Matamore.
+
+“Very dead indeed, for he is frozen as well,” Blazius replied, in a
+voice that belied the levity of his words.
+
+“He has lived! as they always say at the end of a tragedy,” said
+Hérode; “but relieve us, please, it is your turn now; we have carried
+the poor fellow a long way, and it is well for us that he is no
+heavier.”
+
+Scapin took Hérode’s place, reverently and tenderly, while Leander
+relieved the pedant—though this office was little to his taste—and they
+resumed their march, soon reaching the chariot. In spite of the cold
+and snow, Isabelle and Serafina sprang to the ground to meet them, but
+the duenna did not leave her seat—with age had come apathy, and
+selfishness had never been wanting. When they saw poor Matamore stiff
+and motionless, and were told that he was dead, the two young women
+were greatly shocked and moved, and Isabelle, bursting into tears,
+raised her pure eyes to heaven and breathed a fervent prayer for the
+departed soul.
+
+And now came the question, what was to be done? The village for which
+they were bound was still a league away; but they could not stay where
+they were all night, and they decided to go on, even if they had to
+abandon the chariot and walk—anything would be better than freezing to
+death like poor Matamore. But after all, things were not at such a
+desperate pass as they supposed; the long rest, and a good feed of oats
+that Scapin had been thoughtful enough to give their tired horse, had
+so revived the poor old beast that he seemed to be ready and willing to
+go forward again—so their most serious difficulty was removed.
+Matamore’s body was laid in the chariot, and carefully covered with a
+large piece of white linen they fortunately happened to have among
+their heterogeneous belongings, the women resumed their seats, not
+without a slight shudder as they thought of their ghastly companion,
+and the men walked—Scapin going in front with the lantern, and Hérode
+leading the horse. They could not make very rapid progress, but at the
+end of two hours perceived—oh, welcome sight!—the first straggling
+houses of the village where they were to spend the night. At the noise
+of the approaching vehicle the dogs began to bark furiously, and more
+than one nightcapped head appeared at the windows as they passed along
+through the deserted street—so the pedant was able to ask the way to
+the inn, which proved to be at the other end of the hamlet—and the
+worn-out old horse had to make one more effort; but he seemed to feel
+that the stable, where he should find shelter, rest and food, was
+before him, and pushed on with astonishing alacrity.
+
+They found it at last—the inn—with its bunch of holly for a sign. It
+looked a forlorn place, for travellers did not usually stop over night
+in this small, unimportant village; but the comedians were not in a
+mood to be fastidious, and would have been thankful for even a more
+unpromising house of entertainment than this one. It was all shut up
+for the night, with not a sign of life to be seen, so the tyrant
+applied himself diligently to pounding on the door with his big fists,
+until the sound of footsteps within, descending the stairs, showed that
+he had succeeded in rousing somebody. A ray of light shone through the
+cracks in the rickety old door, then it was cautiously opened just a
+little, and an aged, withered crone, striving to protect the flame of
+her flaring candle from the wind with one skinny hand, and to hold the
+rags of her most extraordinary undress together with the other, peered
+out at them curiously. She was evidently just as she had turned out of
+her bed, and a more revolting, witch-like old hag it would be hard to
+find; but she bade the belated travellers enter, with a horrible
+grimace that was intended for a smile, throwing the door wide open, and
+telling them they were welcome to her house as she led the way into the
+kitchen. She kindled the smouldering embers on the hearth into a blaze,
+threw on some fresh wood, and then withdrew to mount to her chamber and
+make herself a little more presentable—having first roused a stout
+peasant lad, who served as hostler, and sent him to take the chariot
+into the court, where he was heard directly unharnessing the weary
+horse and leading him into the stable.
+
+“We cannot leave poor Matamore’s body in the chariot all night, like a
+dead deer brought home from the chase,” said Blazius; “the dogs out
+there in the court might find it out. Besides, he had been baptized,
+and his remains ought to be watched with and cared for, like any other
+good Christian’s.”
+
+So they brought in the sad burden tenderly, laid it on the long table,
+and covered it again carefully with the white linen cloth. When the old
+woman returned, and saw this strange and terrible sight, she was
+frightened almost to death, and, throwing herself on her knees, began
+begging volubly for mercy—evidently taking the troupe of comedians for
+a band of assassins, and the dead man for their unfortunate victim. It
+was with the greatest difficulty that Isabelle finally succeeded in
+calming and reassuring the poor, distracted, old creature, who was
+beside herself with terror, and made her listen to the story of poor
+Matamore’s death. When, at last, she fully understood the true state of
+the case, she went and fetched more candles, which she lighted and
+disposed symmetrically about the dead body, and kindly offered to sit
+up and watch it with Mme. Léonarde—also to do all that was necessary
+and usual for it—adding that she was always sent for in the village
+when there was a death, to perform those last, sad offices. All this
+being satisfactorily arranged—whereat they were greatly relieved—the
+weary travellers were conducted into another room, and food was placed
+before them; but the sad scenes just enacted had taken away their
+appetites, though it was many long hours since they had eaten. And be
+it here recorded that Blazius, for the first time in his life, forgot
+to drink his wine, though it was excellent, and left his glass half
+full. He could not have given a more convincing proof of the depth and
+sincerity of his grief.
+
+Isabelle and Serafina spent the night in an adjoining chamber, sharing
+the one small bed it contained, and the men lay down upon bundles of
+straw that the stable-boy brought in for them. None of them slept
+much—being haunted by disturbing dreams inspired by the sad and trying
+events of the previous day—and all were up and stirring at an early
+hour, for poor Matamore’s burial was to be attended to. For want of
+something more appropriate the aged hostess and Mme. Léonarde had
+enveloped the body in an old piece of thick canvass—still bearing
+traces of the foliage and garlands of flowers originally painted in
+bright colours upon it—in which they had sewed it securely, so that it
+looked not unlike an Egyptian mummy. A board resting on two cross
+pieces of wood served as a bier, and, the body being placed upon it,
+was carried by Hérode, Blazius, Scapin and Leander. A large, black
+velvet cloak, adorned with spangles, which was used upon the stage by
+sovereign pontiffs or venerable necromancers, did duty as a pall—not
+inappropriately surely. The little cortege left the inn by a small door
+in the rear that opened upon a deserted common, so as to avoid passing
+through the street and rousing the curiosity of the villagers, and set
+off towards a retired spot, indicated by the friendly old woman, where
+no one would be likely to witness or interfere with their proceedings.
+The early morning was gray and cold, the sky leaden—no one had ventured
+abroad yet save a few peasants searching for dead wood and sticks, who
+looked with suspicious eyes upon the strange little procession making
+its way slowly through the untrodden snow, but did not attempt to
+approach or molest it. They reached at last the lonely spot where they
+were to leave the mortal remains of poor Matamore, and the stable-boy,
+who had accompanied them carrying a spade, set to work to dig the
+grave. Several carcasses of animals lay scattered about close at hand,
+partly hidden by the snow—among them two or three skeletons of horses,
+picked clean by birds of prey; their long heads, at the end of the
+slender vertebral columns, peering out horribly at them, and their
+ribs, like the sticks of an open fan stripped of its covering,
+appearing above the smooth white surface, bearing each one its little
+load of snow. The comedians observed these ghastly surroundings with a
+shudder, as they laid their burden gently down upon the ground, and
+gathered round the grave which the boy was industriously digging. He
+made but slow progress, however, and the tyrant, taking the spade from
+him, went to work with a will, and had soon finished the sad task. Just
+at the last a volley of stones suddenly startled the little group, who,
+intent upon the mournful business in hand, had not noticed the stealthy
+approach of a considerable number of peasants.
+
+These last had been hastily summoned by their friends who had first
+perceived the mysterious little funeral procession, without priest,
+crucifix, or lighted tapers, and taken it for granted that there must
+be something uncanny about it.
+
+They were about to follow up the shower of stones by a charge upon the
+group assembled round the open grave, when de Sigognac, outraged at
+this brutal assault, whipped out his sword, and rushed upon them
+impetuously, striking some with the flat of the blade, and threatening
+others with the point; while the tyrant, who had leaped out of the
+grave at the first alarm, seized one of the cross pieces of the
+improvised bier, and followed the baron into the thick of the crowd,
+raining blows right and left among their cowardly assailants; who,
+though they far outnumbered the little band of comedians, fled before
+the vigorous attack of de Sigognac and Hérode, cursing and swearing,
+and shouting out violent threats as they withdrew. Poor Matamore’s
+humble obsequies were completed without further hindrance. When the
+first spadeful of earth fell upon his body the pedant, with great tears
+slowly rolling down his cheeks, bent reverently over the grave and
+sighed out, “Alas! poor Matamore!” little thinking that he was, using
+the very words of Hamlet, prince of Denmark, when he apostrophized the
+skull of Yorick, an ancient king’s jester, in the famous tragedy of one
+Shakespeare—a poet of great renown in England, and protégé of Queen
+Elizabeth.
+
+The grave was filled up in silence, and the tyrant—after having
+trampled down the snow for some distance around it, so that its exact
+whereabouts might not be easy to find in case the angry peasants should
+come back to disturb it—said as they turned away, “Now let us get out
+of this place as fast as we can; we have nothing more to do here, and
+the sooner we quit it the better. Those brutes that attacked us may
+return with reinforcements—indeed I think it more than likely that they
+will—in which case your sword, my dear baron, and my stick might not be
+enough to scatter them again. We don’t want to kill any of them, and
+have the cries of widows and orphans resounding in our ears; and
+besides, it might be awkward for us if we were obliged to do it in
+self-defence, and then were hauled up before the local justice of peace
+to answer for it.”
+
+There was so much good sense in this advice that it was unanimously
+agreed to follow it, and in less than an hour, after having settled
+their account at the inn, they, were once more upon the road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+CAPTAIN FRACASSE
+
+
+The comedians pushed forward at first as rapidly as the strength of
+their horse—resuscitated by a night’s rest in a comfortable stable, and
+a generous feed of oats—would allow; it being important to put a good
+distance between themselves and the infuriated peasants who had been
+repulsed by de Sigognac and the tyrant. They plodded on for more than
+two leagues in profound silence, for poor Matamore’s sad fate weighed
+heavily upon their hearts, and each one thought, with a shudder, that
+the day might come when he too would die, and be buried secretly and in
+haste, in some lonely and neglected spot by the roadside, wherever they
+chanced to be, and there abandoned by his comrades.
+
+At last Blazius, whose tongue was scarcely ever at rest, save when he
+slept, could restrain it no longer, and began to expatiate upon the
+mournful theme of which all were thinking, embellishing his discourse
+with many apt quotations, apothegms and maxims, of which in his role of
+pedant he had an ample store laid up in his memory. The tyrant listened
+in silence, but with such a scowling, preoccupied air that Blazius
+finally observed it, and broke off his eloquent disquisition abruptly
+to inquire what he was cogitating so intently.
+
+“I am thinking about Milo, the celebrated Crotonian,” he replied, “who
+killed a bullock with one blow of his fist, and devoured it in a single
+day. I always have admired that exploit particularly, and I feel as if
+I could do as much myself to-day.”
+
+“But as bad luck will have it,” said Scapin, putting in his oar, “the
+bullock is wanting.”
+
+“Yes,” rejoined the tyrant, “I, alas! have only the fist and the
+stomach. Oh! thrice happy the ostrich, that, at a pinch, makes a meal
+of pebbles, bits of broken glass, shoe-buttons, knife-handles,
+belt-buckles, or any such-like delicacies that come in its way, which
+the poor, weak, human stomach cannot digest at all. At this moment I
+feel capable of swallowing whole that great mass of scenery and
+decorations in the chariot yonder. I feel as if I had as big a chasm in
+me as the grave I dug this morning for poor Matamore, and as if I never
+could get enough to fill it. The ancients were wise old fellows; they
+knew what they were about when they instituted the feasts that always
+followed their funerals, with abundance of meats and all sorts of good
+things to eat, washed down with copious draughts of wine, to the honour
+of the dead and the great good of the living. Ah! if we only had the
+wherewithal now to follow their illustrious example, and accomplish
+worthily that philosophical rite, so admirably calculated to stay the
+tears of mourners and raise their drooping spirits.”
+
+“In other words,” said Blazius, “you are hankering after something to
+eat. Polyphemus, ogre, Gargantua, monster that you are! you disgust
+me.”
+
+“And you,” retorted the tyrant, “I know that you are hankering after
+something to drink. Silenus, hogshead, wine-bottle, sponge that you
+are! you excite my pity.”
+
+“How delightful it would be for us all if you both could have your
+wish,” interposed Scapin, in a conciliatory tone.
+
+“Look, yonder by the roadside is a little grove, capitally situated for
+a halting-place. We might stop there for a little, ransack the chariot
+to find whatever fragments may yet remain in it of our last stock of
+provisions, and gathering them all up take our breakfast, such as it
+may be, comfortably sheltered from this cold north wind on the lee side
+of the thicket there. The short halt will give the poor old horse a
+chance to rest, and we meantime, while we are breakfasting, can discuss
+at our leisure some expedients for supplying our immediate needs, and
+also talk over our future plans and prospects—which latter, it seems to
+me, look devilishly dark and discouraging.”
+
+“Your words are golden, friend Scapin,” the pedant said, “let us by all
+means gather up the crumbs that are left of former plenty, though they
+will be but few and musty, I fear. There are still, however, two or
+three bottles of wine remaining—the last of a goodly store—enough for
+us each to have a glass. What a pity that the soil hereabouts is not of
+that peculiar kind of clay upon which certain tribes of American
+savages are said to subsist, when they have been unlucky in their
+hunting and fishing, and have nothing better to eat.”
+
+They accordingly turned the chariot off from the road into the edge of
+the thicket, unharnessed the horse, and left him free to forage for
+himself; whereupon he began to nibble, with great apparent relish, at
+the scattered spears of grass peeping up here and there through the
+snow. A large rug was brought from the chariot and spread upon the
+ground in a sheltered spot, upon which the comedians seated themselves,
+in Turkish fashion, in a circle, while Blazius distributed among them
+the sorry rations he had managed to scrape together; laughing and
+jesting about them in such an amusing manner that all were fain to join
+in his merriment, and general good humour prevailed. The Baron de
+Sigognac, who had long, indeed always, been accustomed to extreme
+frugality, in fact almost starvation, and found it easier to bear such
+trials with equanimity than his companions, could not help admiring the
+wonderful way in which the pedant made the best of a really desperate
+situation, and found something to laugh at and make merry over where
+most people would have grumbled and groaned, and bewailed their hard
+lot, in a manner to make themselves, and all their companions in
+misery, doubly unhappy. But his attention was quickly absorbed in his
+anxiety about Isabelle, who was deathly pale, and shivering until her
+teeth chattered, though she did her utmost to conceal her suffering
+condition, and to laugh with the rest. Her wraps were sadly
+insufficient to protect her properly from such extreme cold as they
+were exposed to then, and de Sigognac, who was sitting beside her,
+insisted upon sharing his cloak with her—though she protested against
+his depriving himself of so much of it—and beneath its friendly shelter
+gently drew her slender, shrinking form close to himself, so as to
+impart some of his own vital warmth to her. She could feel the
+quickened beating of his heart as he held her respectfully, yet firmly
+and tenderly, embraced, and he was soon rewarded for his loving care by
+seeing the colour return to her pale lips, the happy light to her sweet
+eyes, and even a faint flush appear on her delicate cheeks.
+
+While they were eating—or rather making believe to eat their
+make-believe breakfast—a singular noise was heard near by, to which at
+first they paid no particular attention, thinking it was the wind
+whistling through the matted branches of the thicket, if they thought
+of it at all; but presently it grew louder, and they could not imagine
+what it proceeded from. It was a sort of hissing sound, at once shrill
+and hoarse, quite impossible to describe accurately.
+
+As it grew louder and louder, and seemed to be approaching them, the
+women manifested some alarm.
+
+“Oh!” shrieked Serafina “I hope it’s not a snake; I shall die if it is;
+I am so terrified by the horrid, crawling creatures.”
+
+“But it can’t possibly be a snake,” said Leander, reassuringly; “in
+such cold weather as this the snakes are all torpid and lying in their
+holes underground, stiffer than so many sticks.”
+
+“Leander is right,” added the pedant, “this cannot be a snake; and
+besides, snakes never make such a sound as that at any time. It must
+proceed from some wild creature of the wood that our invasion has
+disturbed; perhaps we may be lucky enough to capture it and find it
+edible; that would be a piece of good fortune, indeed, quite like a
+fairy-tale.”
+
+Meantime Scapin was listening attentively to the strange,
+incomprehensible sound, and watching keenly that part of the thicket
+from which it seemed to come. Presently a movement of the underbrush
+became noticeable, and just as he motioned to the company to keep
+perfectly quiet a magnificent big gander emerged from the bushes,
+stretching out his long neck, hissing with all his might, and waddling
+along with a sort of stupid majesty that was most diverting—closely
+followed by two geese, his good, simple-minded, confiding wives, in
+humble attendance upon their infuriated lord and master.
+
+“Don’t stir, any of you,” said Scapin, under his breath, and I will
+endeavour to capture this splendid prize”—with which the clever scamp
+crept softly round behind his companions, who were still seated in a
+circle on the rug, so lightly that he made not the slightest sound; and
+while the gander—who with his two followers had stopped short at sight
+of the intruders—was intently examining them, with some curiosity
+mingled with his angry defiance, and apparently wondering in his stupid
+way how these mysterious figures came to be in that usually deserted
+spot, Scapin succeeded, by making a wide detour, in getting behind the
+three geese unseen, and noiselessly advancing upon them, with one
+rapid, dexterous movement, threw his large heavy cloak over the coveted
+prize. In another instant he had the struggling gander, still enveloped
+in the cloak, in his arms, and, by compressing his neck tightly,
+quickly put an end to his resistance—and his existence at the same
+time; while his two wives, or rather widows, rushed back into the thick
+underbrush to avoid a like fate, making a great cackling and ado over
+the terrible catastrophe that had befallen their quondam lord and
+master.
+
+“Bravo, Scapin! that was a clever trick indeed,” cried Hérode; “it
+throws those you are so often applauded for on the stage quite into the
+shade—a masterpiece of strategy, friend Scapin!—for, as is well known,
+geese are by nature very vigilant, and never caught off their guard—of
+which history gives us a notable instance, in the watchfulness of the
+sacred geese of the Capitol, whose loud cackling in the dead of night
+at the stealthy approach of the Gauls woke the sleeping soldiers to a
+sense of their danger just in time to save Rome. This splendid big
+fellow here saves us—after another fashion it is true, but one which is
+no less providential.”
+
+The goose was plucked and prepared for the spit by Mme. Léonarde, while
+Blazius, the tyrant, and Leander busied themselves in gathering
+together a goodly quantity of dead wood and twigs, and laying them
+ready to light in a tolerably dry spot. Scapin, with his large
+clasp-knife, cut a straight, strong stick, stripped off the bark for a
+spit, and found two stout forked branches, which he stuck firmly into
+the ground on each side of the fire so that they would meet over it. A
+handful of dry straw from the chariot served as kindling, and they
+quickly had a bright blaze, over which the goose was suspended, and
+being duly turned and tended by Scapin, in a surprisingly short space
+of time began to assume a beautiful light brown hue, and send out such
+a savoury delicious odour that the tyrant sprang up and strode away
+from its immediate vicinity, declaring that if he remained near it the
+temptation to seize and swallow it, spit and all, would surely be too
+strong for him. Blazius had fetched from the chariot a huge tin platter
+that usually figured in theatrical feasts, upon which the goose, done
+to a turn, was finally placed with all due ceremony, and a second
+breakfast was partaken of, which was by no means a fallacious,
+chimerical repast like the first. The pedant, who was an accomplished
+carver, officiated in that capacity on this auspicious occasion;
+begging the company, as he did so, to be kind enough to excuse the
+unavoidable absence, which he deeply regretted, of the slices of
+Seville oranges that should have formed a part of the dish—being an
+obligatory accessory of roast goose—and they with charming courtesy
+smilingly expressed their willingness to overlook for this once such a
+culinary solecism.
+
+“Now,” said Hérode, when nothing remained of the goose but its
+well-picked bones, “we must try to decide upon what is best to be done.
+Only three or four _pistoles_ are left in the exchequer, and my office
+as treasurer bids fair to become a sinecure. We have been so
+unfortunate as to lose two valuable members of the troupe, Zerbine and
+poor Matamore, rendering many of our best plays impossible for us, and
+at any rate we cannot give dramatic representations that would bring in
+much money here in the fields, where our audience would be mainly
+composed of crows, jackdaws, and magpies—who could scarcely be expected
+to pay us very liberally for our entertainment. With that poor,
+miserable, old horse there, slowly dying between the shafts of our
+chariot, hardly able to drag one foot after another, we cannot
+reasonably expect to reach Poitiers in less than two days—if we do
+then—and our situation is an unpleasantly tragic one, for we run the
+risk of being frozen or starved to death by the wayside; fat geese,
+already roasted, do not emerge from every thicket you know.”
+
+“You state the case very clearly,” the pedant said as he paused, “and
+make the evil very apparent, but you don’t say a word about the
+remedy.”
+
+“My idea is,” rejoined Hérode, “to stop at the first village we come to
+and give an entertainment. All work in the fields is at a standstill
+now, and the peasants are idle in consequence; they will be only too
+delighted at the prospect of a little amusement. Somebody will let us
+have his barn for our theatre, and Scapin shall go round the town
+beating the drum, and announcing our programme, adding this important
+clause, that all those who cannot pay for their places in money may do
+so in provisions. A fowl, a ham, or a jug of wine, will secure a seat
+in the first row; a pair of pigeons, a dozen eggs, or a loaf of bread,
+in the second, and so on down. Peasants are proverbially stingy with
+their money, but will be liberal enough with their provisions; and
+though our purse will not be replenished, our larder will, which is
+equally important, since our very lives depend upon it. After that we
+can push on to Poitiers, and I know an inn-keeper there who will give
+us credit until we have had time to fill our purse again, and get our
+finances in good order.”
+
+“But what piece can we play, in case we find our village?” asked
+Scapin. “Our _repertoire_ is sadly reduced, you know. Tragedies, and
+even the better class of comedies, would be all Greek to the stupid
+rustics, utterly ignorant as they are of history or fable, and scarcely
+even understanding the French language. The only thing to give them
+would be a roaring farce, with plenty of funny by-play, resounding
+blows, kicks and cuffs, ridiculous tumbles, and absurdities within
+their limited comprehension. The Rodomontades of Captain Matamore would
+be the very thing; but that is out of our power now that poor Matamore
+is dead.”
+
+When Scapin paused, de Sigognac made a sign with his hand that he
+wished to speak, and all the company turned respectfully towards him to
+listen to what he had to say. A little flush spread itself over his
+pale countenance, and it was only after a brief but sharp struggle with
+himself that he opened his tightly compressed lips, and addressed his
+expectant audience, as follows: “Although I do not possess poor
+Matamore’s talent, I can almost rival him in thinness, and _I_ will
+take his role, and do the best I can with it. I am your comrade, and I
+want to do my part in this strait we find ourselves in. I should be
+ashamed to share your prosperity, as I have done, and not aid you, so
+far as lies in my power, in your adversity, and this is the only way in
+which I can assist you. There is no one in the whole world to care what
+may become of the de Sigognacs; my house is crumbling into dust over
+the tombs of my ancestors; oblivion covers my once glorious name, and
+the arms of my family are almost entirely obliterated above the
+deserted entrance to the Château de Sigognac. Perhaps I may yet see the
+three golden storks shine out brilliantly upon my shield, and life,
+prosperity, and happiness return to the desolate abode where my sad,
+hopeless youth was spent. But in the meantime, since to you I owe my
+escape from that dreary seclusion, I beg you to accept me freely as
+your comrade, and my poor services as such; to you I am no longer de
+Sigognac.”
+
+Isabelle had laid her hand on his arm at his first sentence, as soon as
+she comprehended what he meant to say, to try to stop him, and here she
+made another effort to interrupt; but for once he would not heed her,
+and continued, “I renounce my title of baron for the present; I fold it
+up and put it away at the bottom of my portmanteau, like a garment that
+is laid aside. Do not make use of it again, I pray you; we will see
+whether under a new name I may not succeed in escaping from the ill
+fortune that has thus far pursued me as the Baron de Sigognac.
+Henceforth then I take poor Matamore’s place, and my name is Captain
+Fracasse.”
+
+“Bravo! _vive_ Captain Fracasse!” cried they all, with enthusiasm, “may
+applause greet and follow him wherever he goes.”
+
+This sudden move on de Sigognac’s part, at which the comedians were
+greatly astonished, as well as deeply touched, was not so
+unpremeditated as it seemed; he had been thinking about it for some
+time. He blushed at the idea of being a mere parasite, living upon the
+bounty of these honest players—who shared all they had with him so
+generously, and without ever making him feel, for a moment, that he was
+under any obligation to them, but—rather that he was conferring an
+honour upon them—he deemed it less unworthy a gentleman to appear upon
+the stage and do his part towards filling the common purse than to be
+their pensioner in idleness; and after all, there was no disgrace in
+becoming an actor. The idea of quitting them and going back to Sigognac
+had indeed presented itself to his mind, but he had instantly repulsed
+it as base and cowardly—it is not in the hour of danger and disaster
+that the true soldier retires from the ranks. Besides, if he had wished
+to go ever so much, his love for Isabelle would have kept him near her;
+and then, though he was not given to day-dreams, he yet fancied that
+wonderful adventures, sudden changes, and strokes of good fortune might
+possibly be awaiting him in the mysterious future, into which he fain
+would peer, and he would inevitably lose the chance of them all if he
+returned to his ruinous château.
+
+Everything being thus satisfactorily arranged, the old horse was
+harnessed up again, and the chariot moved slowly forward on its way.
+Their good meal had revived everybody’s drooping spirits, and they all,
+excepting the duenna and Serafina, who never walked if they could
+possibly help it, trudged cheerily along, laughing and talking as they
+went.
+
+Isabelle had taken de Sigognac’s offered arm, and leaned on it proudly,
+glancing furtively up into his face, whenever he was looking away from
+her, with eyes full of tenderness and loving admiration, never
+suspecting, in her modesty, that it was for love of her that he had
+decided to turn actor—a thing so revolting, as she knew, to his pride
+as a gentleman. He was a hero in her eyes, and though she wished to
+reproach him for his hasty action, which she would have prevented if
+she could, she had not the heart to find fault with him for his noble
+devotion to the common cause after all. Yet she would have done
+anything, suffered everything herself, to have saved him this
+humiliation; hers being one of those true, loyal hearts that forget
+themselves in their love, and think only of the interests and happiness
+of the being beloved. She walked on beside him until her strength was
+exhausted, and then returned to her place in the chariot, giving him a
+look so eloquent of love and admiration, as he carefully drew her wraps
+about her, that his heart bounded with joy, and he felt that no
+sacrifice could be too great which was made for her sweet sake.
+
+In every direction around them, as far as the eye could reach, the
+snow-covered country was utterly devoid of town, village, or hamlet;
+not a sign of life was anywhere to be seen.
+
+“A sorry prospect for our fine plan,” said the pedant, after a
+searching examination of their surroundings, “and I very much fear that
+the plentiful store of provisions Hérode promised us will not be
+forthcoming. I cannot see the smoke of a single chimney, strain my eyes
+as I will, nor the weather-cock on any village spire.”
+
+“Have a little patience, Blazius!” the tyrant replied. “Where people
+live too much crowded together the air becomes vitiated, you know, and
+it is very salubrious to have the villages situated a good distance
+apart.”
+
+“What a healthy part of the country this must be then the inhabitants
+need not to fear epidemics—for to begin with there are no inhabitants.
+At this rate our Captain Fracasse will not have a chance very soon to
+make his debut.”
+
+By this time it was nearly dark, the sky was overcast with heavy leaden
+clouds, and only a faint lurid glow on the horizon in the west showed
+where the sun had gone down. An icy wind, blowing full in their faces,
+and the hard, frozen surface of the snow, made their progress both
+difficult and painful. The poor old horse slipped at every step, though
+Scapin was carefully leading him, and staggered along like a drunken
+man, striking first against one shaft and then against the other,
+growing perceptibly weaker at every turn of the wheels behind him. Now
+and again he shook his head slowly up and down, and cast appealing
+glances at those around him, as his trembling legs seemed about to give
+way under him. His hour had come—the poor, old horse! and he was dying
+in harness like a brave beast, as he was. At last he could no more, and
+falling heavily to the ground gave one feeble kick as he stretched
+himself out on his side, and yielded up the ghost. Frightened by the
+sudden shock, the women shrieked loudly, and the men, running to their
+assistance, helped them to clamber out of the chariot. Mme. Léonarde
+and Serafina were none the worse for the fright, but Isabelle had
+fainted quite away, and de Sigognac, lifting her light weight easily,
+carried her in his arms to the bank at the side of the road, followed
+by the duenna, while Scapin bent down over the prostrate horse and
+carefully examined his ears.
+
+“He is stone dead,” said he in despairing tones; “his ears are cold,
+and there is no pulsation in the auricular artery.”
+
+“Then I suppose we shall have to harness ourselves to the chariot in
+his place,” broke in Leander dolefully, almost weeping. “Oh! cursed be
+the mad folly that led me to choose an actor’s career.”
+
+“Is this a time to groan and bewail yourself?” roared the tyrant
+savagely, entirely out of patience with Leander’s everlasting
+jeremiads; “for heaven’s sake pluck up a little courage, and be a man!
+And now to consider what is to be done; but first let us see how our
+good little Isabelle is getting on; is she still unconscious? No; she
+opens her eyes, and there is the colour coming back to her lips; she
+will do now, thanks to the baron and Mme. Léonarde. We must divide
+ourselves into two bands; one will stay with the women and the chariot,
+the other will scour the country in search of aid. We cannot think of
+remaining here all night, for we should be frozen stiff long before
+morning. Come, Captain Fracasse, Leander, and Scapin, you three being
+the youngest, and also the fleetest of foot, off with you. Run like
+greyhounds, and bring us succour as speedily as may be. Blazius and I
+will meantime do duty as guardians of the chariot and its contents.”
+
+The three men designated signified their readiness to obey the tyrant,
+and set off across country, though not feeling at all sanguine as to
+the results of their search, for the night was intensely dark; but that
+very darkness had its advantages, and came to their aid in an
+unexpected manner, for though it effectually concealed all surrounding
+objects, it made visible a tiny point of light shining at the foot of a
+little hill some distance from the road.
+
+“Behold,” cried the pedant, “our guiding star! as welcome to us weary
+travellers, lost in the desert, as the polar star to the distressed
+mariner ‘in periculo maris.’ That blessed star yonder, whose rays shine
+far out into the darkness, is a light burning in some warm, comfortable
+room, which forms—Heaven be praised!—part of the habitation of human
+and civilized beings—not Laestrygon savages. Without doubt there is a
+bright fire blazing on the hearth in that cosy room, and over it hangs
+a famous big pot, from which issue puffs of a delicious odour—oh,
+delightful thought!—round which my imagination holds high revel, and in
+fancy I wash down with generous wine the savoury morsels from that
+glorious _pot-au-feu_.”
+
+“You rave, my good Blazius,” said the tyrant, “the frost must have
+gotten into your brain—that makes men mad, they say, or silly. Yet
+there is some method in your madness, some truth in your ravings, for
+yonder light must indicate an inhabited dwelling. This renders a change
+in the plans for our campaign advisable. We will all go forward
+together towards the promised refuge, and leave the chariot where it
+is; no robbers will be abroad on such a night as this to interfere with
+its contents. We will take our few valuables—they are not so numerous
+or weighty but that we can carry them with us; for once it is an
+advantage that our possessions are few. To-morrow morning we will come
+back to fetch the chariot: now, forward, march!—and it is time, for I
+am nearly frozen to death.”
+
+The comedians accordingly started across the fields, towards the
+friendly light that promised them so much—Isabelle supported by de
+Sigognac, Serafina by Leander, and the duenna dragged along by Scapin;
+while Blazius and the tyrant formed the advance guard. It was not easy
+work; sometimes plunging into deep snow, more than knee high, as they
+came upon a ditch, hidden completely under the treacherously smooth
+white surface, or stumbling, and even falling more than once, over some
+unseen obstacle; but at length they came up to what seemed to be a
+large, low building, probably a farm-house, surrounded by stone walls,
+with a big gate for carts to enter. In the expanse of dark wall before
+them shone the light which had guided their steps, and upon approaching
+they found that it proceeded from a small window, whose shutters—most
+fortunately for them, poor, lost wanderers—had not yet been closed. The
+dogs within the enclosure, perceiving the approach of strangers, began
+to bark loudly and rush about the yard; they could hear them jumping up
+at the walls in vain efforts to get at the intruders. Presently the
+sound of a man’s voice and footsteps mingled with their barking, and in
+a moment the whole establishment seemed to be on the alert.
+
+“Stay here, all of you,” said the pedant, halting at a little distance
+from the gate, “and let me go forward alone to knock for admission. Our
+numbers might alarm the good people of the farm, and lead them to fancy
+us a band of robbers, with designs upon their rustic Penates; as I am
+old, and inoffensive looking, they will not be afraid of me.”
+
+This advice was approved by all, and Blazius, going forward by himself,
+knocked gently at the great gate, which was first opened cautiously
+just a very little, then flung impetuously back; and then the
+comedians, from their outpost in the snow, saw a most extraordinary and
+inexplicable scene enacted before their astonished eyes. The pedant and
+the farmer who had opened the gate, after gazing at each other a moment
+intently, by the light of the lantern which the latter held up to see
+what manner of man his nocturnal visitor might be, and after exchanging
+rapidly a few words, that the others could not hear, accompanied by
+wild gesticulations, rushed into each other’s arms, and began pounding
+each other heartily upon the back—mutually bestowing resounding
+accolades—as is the manner upon the stage of expressing joy at meeting
+a dear friend. Emboldened by this cordial reception, which yet was a
+mystery to them, the rest of the troupe ventured to approach, though
+slowly and timidly.
+
+“Halloa! all of you there,” cried the pedant suddenly, in a joyful
+voice, “come on without fear, you will be made welcome by a friend and
+a brother, a world-famed member of our profession, the darling of
+Thespis, the favourite of Thalia, no less a personage than the
+celebrated Bellombre—you all know his glorious record. Blessed is the
+happy chance that has directed our steps hither, to the philosophic
+retreat where this histrionic hero reposes tranquilly upon his
+laurels.”
+
+“Come in, I pray you, ladies and gentlemen,” said Bellombre, advancing
+to meet them, with a graceful courtesy which proved that the ci-devant
+actor had not put aside his elegant, courtly manners when he donned his
+peasant dress.
+
+“Come in quickly out of this biting wind; my dwelling is rude and
+homely, but you will be better off within it than here in the open
+air.”
+
+They needed no urging, and joyfully accepting his kind invitation
+followed their host into the house, charmed with this unhoped-for good
+fortune. Blazius and Bellombre were old acquaintances, and had formerly
+been members Of the same troupe; as their respective roles did not
+clash there was no rivalry between them, and they had become fast
+friends—being fellow worshippers at the shrine of the merry god of
+wine. Bellombre had retired from the stage some years before, when at
+his father’s death he inherited this farm and a small fortune. The
+parts that he excelled in required a certain degree of youth, and he
+was not sorry to withdraw before wrinkles and whitening locks should
+make it necessary for him to abandon his favourite roles. In the world
+he was believed to be dead, but his splendid acting was often quoted by
+his former admirers—who were wont to declare that there had been
+nothing to equal it seen on the stage since he had made his last bow to
+the public.
+
+The room into which he led his guests was very spacious, and served
+both as kitchen and sitting-room—there was also a large curtained bed
+standing in an alcove at the end farthest from the fire, as was not
+unusual in ancient farm-houses. The blaze from the four or five immense
+logs of wood heaped up on the huge andirons was roaring up the broad
+chimney flue, and filling the room with a bright, ruddy glow—a most
+welcome sight to the poor half-frozen travellers, who gathered around
+it and luxuriated in its genial warmth. The large apartment was plainly
+and substantially furnished, just as any well-to-do farmer’s house
+might be, but near one of the windows stood a round table heaped up
+with books, some of them lying open as if but just put down, which
+showed that the owner of the establishment had not lost his taste for
+literary pursuits, but devoted to them his long winter evenings.
+
+The cordiality of their welcome and the deliciously warm atmosphere in
+which they found themselves had combined to raise the spirits of the
+comedians—colour returned to pale faces, light to heavy eyes, and
+smiles to anxious lips—their gaiety was in proportion to the misery and
+peril from which they had just happily escaped, their hardships were
+all forgotten, and they gave themselves up entirely to the enjoyment of
+the hour. Their host had called up his servants, who bustled about,
+setting the table and making other preparations for supper, to the
+undisguised delight of Blazius, who said triumphantly to the tyrant,
+“You see now, Hérode, and must acknowledge, that my predictions,
+inspired by the little glimmer of light we saw from afar, are
+completely verified—they have all come literally true. Fragrant puffs
+are issuing even now from the mammoth _pot-au-feu_ there over the fire,
+and we shall presently wash down its savoury contents with draughts of
+generous wine, which I see already awaiting us on the table yonder. It
+is warm and bright and cosy in this room, and we appreciate and enjoy
+it all doubly, after the darkness and the cold and the danger from
+which we have escaped into the grateful shelter of this hospitable
+roof; and to crown the whole, our host is the grand, illustrious,
+incomparable Bellombre—flower and cream of all comedians, past, present
+and future, and best of good fellows.”
+
+“Our happiness would be complete if only poor Matamore were here,” said
+Isabelle with a sigh.
+
+“Pray what has happened to him?” asked Bellombre, who knew him by
+reputation.
+
+The tyrant told him the tragic story of the snow-storm, and its fatal
+consequences. “But for this thrice-blessed meeting with my old and
+faithful friend here,” Blazius added, “the same fate would probably
+have overtaken us ere morning—we should all have been found, frozen
+stiff and stark, by the next party of travellers on the post road.”
+
+“That would have been a pity indeed,” Bellombre rejoined, and glancing
+admiringly at Isabelle and Serafina, added gallantly, “but surely these
+young goddesses would have melted the snow, and thawed the ice, with
+the fire I see shining in their sparkling eyes.”
+
+“You attribute too much power to our eyes,” Serafina made answer; “they
+could not even have made any impression upon a heart, in the thick,
+impenetrable darkness that enveloped us; the tears that the icy cold
+forced from them would have extinguished the flames of the most ardent
+love.”
+
+While they sat at supper, Blazius told their host of the sad condition
+of their affairs, at which he seemed no way surprised.
+
+“There are always plenty of ups and downs in a theatrical career,” he
+said—“the wheel of Fortune turns very fast in that profession; but if
+misfortunes come suddenly, so also does prosperity follow quickly in
+their train. Don’t be discouraged!—things are brightening with you now.
+Tomorrow morning I will send one of my stout farm-horses to bring your
+chariot on here, and we will rig up a theatre in my big barn; there is
+a large town not far from this which will send us plenty of spectators.
+If the entertainment does not fetch as good a sum as I think it will, I
+have a little fund of _pistoles_ lying idle here that will be entirely
+at your service, for, by Apollo! I would not leave my good Blazius and
+his friends in distress so long as I had a copper in my purse.”
+
+“I see that you are always the same warm-hearted, openhanded Bellombre
+as of old,” cried the pedant, grasping the other’s outstretched hand
+warmly; “you have not grown rusty and hard in consequence of your
+bucolic occupations.”
+
+“No,” Bellombre replied, with a smile; “I do not let my brain lie
+fallow while I cultivate my fields. I make a point of reading over
+frequently the good old authors, seated comfortably by the fire with my
+feet on the fender, and I read also such new works as I am able to
+procure, from time to time, here in the depths of the country. I often
+go carefully over my own old parts, and I see plainly what a
+self-satisfied fool I was in the old days, when I was applauded to the
+echo every time I appeared upon the stage, simply because I happened to
+be blessed with a sonorous voice, a graceful carriage, and a fine leg;
+the doting stupidity of the public, with which I chanced to be a
+favourite, was the true cause of my success.”
+
+“Only the great Bellombre himself would ever be suffered to say such
+things as these of that most illustrious ornament of our profession,”
+said the tyrant, courteously.
+
+“Art is long, but life is short,” continued the ci-devant actor, “and I
+should have arrived at a certain degree of proficiency at last perhaps,
+but—I was beginning to grow stout; and I would not allow myself to
+cling to the stage until two footmen should have to come and help me up
+from my rheumatic old knees every time I had a declaration of love to
+make, so I gladly seized the opportunity afforded me by my little
+inheritance, and retired in the height of my glory.”
+
+“And you were wise, Bellombre,” said Blazius, “though your retreat was
+premature; you might have given ten years more to the theatre, and then
+have retired full early.”
+
+In effect he was still a very handsome, vigorous man, about whom no
+signs of age were apparent, save an occasional thread of silver amid
+the rich masses of dark hair that fell upon his shoulders.
+
+The younger men, as well as the three actresses, were glad to retire to
+rest early; but Blazius and the tyrant, with their host, sat up
+drinking the latter’s capital wine until far into the night. At length
+they, too, succumbed to their fatigue; and while they are sleeping we
+will return to the abandoned chariot to see what was going on there. In
+the gray light of the early morning it could be perceived that the poor
+old horse still lay just as he had fallen; several crows were flitting
+about, not yet venturing to attack the miserable carcass, peering at it
+suspiciously from a respectful distance, as if they feared some hidden
+snare. At last one, bolder than its fellows, alighted upon the poor
+beast’s head, and was just bending over that coveted dainty, the
+eye—which was open and staring—when a heavy step, coming over the snow,
+startled him. With a croak of disappointment he quitted his post of
+vantage, rose heavily in the air, and flapped slowly off to a
+neighbouring tree, followed by his companions, cawing and scolding
+hoarsely. The figure of a man appeared, coming along the road at a
+brisk pace, and carrying a large bundle in his arms, enveloped in his
+cloak. This he put down upon the ground when he came up with the
+chariot, standing directly in his way, and it proved to be a little
+girl about twelve years old; a child with large, dark, liquid eyes that
+had a feverish light in them—eyes exactly like Chiquita’s. There was a
+string of pearl beads round the slender neck, and an extraordinary
+combination of rags and tatters, held together in some mysterious way,
+hung about the thin, fragile little figure. It was indeed Chiquita
+herself, and with her, Agostino—the ingenious rascal, whose laughable
+exploit with his scarecrow brigands has been already recorded—who,
+tired of following a profession that yielded no profits, had set out on
+foot for Paris—where all men of talent could find employment they
+said—marching by night, and lying hidden by day, like all other beasts
+of prey. The poor child, overcome with fatigue and benumbed by the
+cold, had given out entirely that night, in spite of her valiant
+efforts to keep up with Agostino, and he had at last picked her up in
+his arms and carried her for a while—she was but a light burden—hoping
+to find some sort of shelter soon.
+
+“What can be the meaning of this?” he said to Chiquita. “Usually we
+stop the vehicles, but here we are stopped by one in our turn; we must
+look out lest it be full of travellers, ready to demand our money or
+our lives.”
+
+“There’s nobody in it,” Chiquita replied, having peeped in under the
+cover.
+
+“Perhaps there may be something worth having inside there,” Agostino
+said; “we will look and see,” and he proceeded to light the little dark
+lantern he always had with him, for the daylight was not yet strong
+enough to penetrate into the dusky interior of the chariot. Chiquita,
+who was greatly excited by the hope of booty, jumped in, and rapidly
+searched it, carefully directing the light of the lantern upon the
+packages and confused mass of theatrical articles stowed away in the
+back part of it, but finding nothing of value anywhere.
+
+“Search thoroughly, my good little Chiquita!” said the brigand, as he
+kept watch outside, “be sure that you don’t overlook anything.”
+
+“There is nothing here, absolutely nothing that is worth the trouble of
+carrying away. Oh, yes! here is a bag, with something that sounds like
+money in ft.”
+
+“Give it to me,” cried Agostino eagerly, snatching it from her, and
+making a rapid examination of its contents; but he threw it down
+angrily upon the ground, exclaiming, “the devil take it! I thought we
+had found a treasure at last, but instead of good money there’s nothing
+but a lot of pieces of gilded lead and such-like in it. But we’ll get
+one thing out of this anyhow—a good rest inside here for you, sheltered
+from the wind and cold. Your poor little feet are bleeding, and they
+must be nearly frozen. Curl yourself down there on those cushions, and
+I will cover you with this bit of painted canvas. Now go to sleep, and
+I will watch while you have a nap; it is too early yet for honest folks
+to be abroad, and we shall not be disturbed.” In a few minutes poor
+little Chiquita was sound asleep.
+
+Agostino sat on the front seat of the chariot, with his _navaja_ open
+and lying beside him, watching the road and the fields all about, with
+the keen, practised eye of a man of his lawless profession. All was
+still. No sound or movement any where, save among the crows. In spite
+of his iron will and constitution he began to feel an insidious
+drowsiness creeping over him, which he did not find it easy to shake
+off; several times his eyelids closed, and he lifted them resolutely,
+only to have them fall again in another instant. In fact he was just
+dropping into a doze, when he felt, as in a dream, a hot breath on his
+face, and suddenly waked to see two gleaming eyeballs close to his.
+With a movement more rapid than thought itself, he seized the wolf by
+the throat with his left hand, and picking up his _navaja_ with the
+other, plunged it up to the hilt into the animal’s breast. It must have
+gone through the heart, for he dropped down dead in the road, without a
+struggle.
+
+Although he had gained the victory so easily over his fierce assailant,
+Agostino concluded that this was not a good place for them to tarry in,
+and called to Chiquita, who jumped up instantly, wide awake, and
+manifested no alarm at sight of the dead wolf lying beside the chariot.
+
+“We had better move on,” said he, “that carcass of the horse there
+draws the wolves; they are often mad with hunger in the winter time you
+know, and especially when there is snow on the ground. I could easily
+kill a pretty good number of them, but they might come down upon us by
+scores, and if I should happen to fall asleep again it would not be
+pleasant to wake up and find myself in the stomach of one of those
+confounded brutes. When I was disposed of they would make only a
+mouthful of you, little one! So come along, we must scamper off as fast
+as ever we can. That fellow there was only the advance guard, the
+others will not be far behind him—this carcass will keep them busy for
+a while, and give us time to get the start of them. You can walk now,
+Chiquita, can’t you?”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” she replied cheerily, “that little nap has done me so
+much good. Poor Agostino! you shall not have to carry me again, like a
+great clumsy parcel. And Agostino,” she added with a fierce energy,
+“when my feet refuse to walk or run in your service you must just cut
+my throat with your big knife there, and throw me into the next ditch.
+I will thank you for it, Agostino, for I could not bear to have your
+precious life in danger for the sake of poor, miserable little me.”
+Thereupon this strange pair, both very fleet of foot, set off running,
+side by side, the brigand holding Chiquita by the hand, so as to give
+her all the aid and support he could, and they quickly passed out of
+sight. No sooner had they departed than the crows came swooping down
+from their perch in the nearest tree, and fell to fiercely upon their
+horrible feast, in which they were almost directly joined by several
+ravenous wolves—and they made such good use of their time, that in a
+few hours nothing remained of the poor old horse but his bones, his
+tail, and his shoes. When somewhat later the tyrant arrived,
+accompanied by one of Bellombre’s farm-hands, leading the horse that
+was to take the chariot back with them, he was naturally astonished to
+find only the skeleton, with the harness and trappings, still intact,
+about it, for neither birds nor beasts had interfered with them, and
+his surprise was increased when he discovered the half-devoured carcass
+of the wolf lying under the chariot wheels. There also, scattered on
+the road, were the sham _louis-d’or_ that did duty upon the stage when
+largesses were to be distributed; and upon the snow were the traces,
+clearly defined, of the footsteps of a man, approaching the chariot
+from the way it had come, and of those of the same man, and also of a
+child, going on beyond it.
+
+“It would appear,” said Hérode to himself, “that the chariot of Thespis
+has received visitors, since we abandoned it, of more than one sort,
+and for my part I am very thankful to have missed them all. Oh, happy
+accident! that, when it happened, seemed to us so great a misfortune,
+yet is proven now to have been a blessing in disguise. And you, my poor
+old horse, you could not have done us a greater service than to die
+just when and where you did. Thanks to you we have escaped the
+wolves—two-legged ones, which are perhaps the most to be dreaded of
+all, as well as the ravenous brethren of this worthy lying here. What a
+dainty feast the sweet, tender flesh of those plump little pullets,
+Isabelle and Serafina, would have been for them, to say nothing of the
+tougher stuff the rest of us are made of. What a bountiful meal we
+should have furnished them—the murderous brutes!” While the tyrant was
+indulging in this soliloquy Bellombre’s servant had detached the
+chariot from the skeleton of the poor old horse, and had harnessed to
+it, with considerable difficulty, the animal he had been leading, which
+was terrified at sight of the bleeding, mutilated carcass of the wolf
+lying on the snow, and the ghastly skeleton of its predecessor. Arrived
+at the farm, the chariot was safely stowed away under a shed, and upon
+examination it was found that nothing was missing. Indeed, something
+had been left there, for a small clasp-knife was picked up in it, which
+had fallen out of Chiquita’s pocket, and excited a great deal of
+curiosity and conjecture. It was of Spanish make, and bore upon its
+sharp, pointed blade, a sinister inscription in that language, to this
+effect—
+
+“When this viper bites you, make sure
+That you must die—for there is no cure.”
+
+
+No one could imagine how it had come there, and the tyrant was
+especially anxious to clear up the mystery that puzzled them all.
+Isabelle, who was a little inclined to be superstitious, and attach
+importance to omens, signs of evil, and such-like, felt troubled about
+it. She spoke Spanish perfectly, and understood the full force and
+significance of the strange inscription upon the wicked-looking blade
+of the tiny weapon.
+
+Meantime, Scapin, dressed in his freshest and most gaudy costume, had
+marched into the neighbouring town, carrying his drum; he stationed
+himself in the large, public square, and made such good play with his
+drum-sticks that he soon had a curious crowd around him, to whom he
+made an eloquent address, setting forth in glowing terms the great
+attractions offered by “the illustrious comedians of Hérode’s
+celebrated troupe,” who, “for this night only,” would delight the
+public by the representation of that screaming farce, the Rodomontades
+of Captain Fracasse; to be followed by a “bewitching Moorish dance,”
+performed by the “incomparable Mlle. Serafina.” After enlarging
+brilliantly upon this theme, he added, that as they were “more desirous
+of glory than profit,” they would be willing to accept provisions of
+all kinds, instead of coin of the realm, in payment of places, from
+those who had not the money to spare, and asked them to let all their
+friends know. This closing announcement made a great sensation among
+his attentive listeners, and he marched back to the farm, confident
+that they would have a goodly number of spectators. There he found the
+stage already erected in the barn, and a rehearsal in progress, which
+was necessary on de Sigognac’s account.
+
+Bellombre was instructing him in various minor details as the play went
+on, and for a novice he did wonderfully well—acting with much spirit
+and grace, showing decided talent, and remarkable aptitude. But it was
+very evident that he was greatly annoyed by some portions of the piece,
+and an angry flush mounted to the roots of his hair at the whacks and
+cuffs so liberally bestowed upon the doughty captain.
+
+His comrades spared him as much as possible—feeling that it must be
+intensely repugnant to him—but he grew furious in spite of all his
+efforts to control his temper, and at each fresh attack upon him his
+flashing eyes and knitted brows betrayed the fierce rage he was in;
+then, suddenly remembering that his role required a very different
+expression of countenance, he would pull himself up, and endeavour to
+imitate that which Matamore had been wont to assume in this character.
+Bellombre, who was watching him critically, stopped him a moment, to
+say: “You make a great mistake in attempting to suppress your natural
+emotions; you should take care not to do it, for they produce a capital
+effect, and you can create a new type of stage bully; when you have
+gotten accustomed to this sort of thing, and no longer feel this
+burning indignation, you must feign it. Strike out in a path of your
+own, and you will be sure to attain success—far more so than if you
+attempt to follow in another’s footsteps. Fracasse, as you represent
+him, loves and admires courage, and would fain be able to manifest
+it—he is angry with himself for being such an arrant coward. When free
+from danger, he dreams of nothing but heroic exploits and superhuman
+enterprises; but when any actual peril threatens him, his too vivid
+imagination conjures up such terrible visions of bleeding wounds and
+violent death that his heart fails him. Yet his pride revolts at the
+idea of being beaten; for a moment he is filled with rage, but his
+courage all disappears with the first blows he receives, and he finally
+shows himself to be the poltroon that he himself despises. This method
+it appears to me is far superior to the absurd grimaces, trembling
+legs, and exaggerated gestures, by which indifferent actors endeavour
+to excite the laughter of their audience—but meantime lose sight
+entirely of their art.”
+
+The baron gratefully accepted the veteran actor’s advice, and played
+his part after the fashion indicated by him with so much spirit that
+all present applauded his acting enthusiastically, and prophesied its
+success. The performances were to begin at an early hour, and as the
+time approached, de Sigognac put on poor Matamore’s costume, to which
+he had fallen heir, and which Mme. Léonarde had taken in hand and
+cleverly altered for him, so that he could get into it. He had a sharp
+struggle with his pride as be donned this absurd dress, and made
+himself ready for his debut as an actor, but resolutely repressed all
+rising regrets, and determined faithfully to do his best in the new
+role he had undertaken.
+
+A large audience had gathered in the big barn, which was brilliantly
+lighted, and the representation began before a full house. At the end
+farthest from the stage, and behind the spectators, were some cattle in
+their stalls, that stared at the unwonted scene with an expression of
+stupid wonder in their great, soft eyes—the eyes that Homer, the grand
+old Greek poet, deemed worthy to supply an epithet for the beauteous
+orbs of majestic Juno herself—and in the midst of one of the most
+exciting parts of the play, a calf among them was moved to express its
+emotions by an unearthly groan, which did not in the least disconcert
+the audience, but had nearly been too much for the gravity of the
+actors upon the stage.
+
+Captain Fracasse won much applause, and indeed acted his part
+admirably, being under no constraint; for he did not need to fear the
+criticism of this rustic audience as he would have done that of a more
+cultivated and experienced one; and, too, he felt sure that there could
+be nobody among the spectators that knew him, or anything about him.
+The other actors were also vigorously clapped by the toil-hardened
+hands of these lowly tillers of the soil—whose applause throughout was
+bestowed, Bellombre declared, judiciously and intelligently. Serafina
+executed her Moorish dance with a degree of agility and voluptuous
+grace that would have done honour to a professional ballet-dancer, or
+to a Spanish gipsy, and literally brought down the house.
+
+But while de Sigognac was thus employed, far from his ancient château,
+the portraits of his ancestors that hung upon its walls were frowning
+darkly at the degeneracy of this last scion of their noble race, and a
+sigh, almost a groan, that issued from their faded lips, echoed
+dismally through the deserted house. In the kitchen, Pierre, with
+Miraut and Beelzebub on either side of him—all three looking melancholy
+and forlorn—sat thinking of his absent lord, and said aloud, “Oh, where
+is my poor, dear master now?” a big tear rolling down his withered
+cheek as he stooped to caress his dumb companions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE
+
+
+The next morning Bellombre drew Blazius aside, and untying the strings
+of a long leathern purse emptied out of it into the palm of his hand a
+hundred _pistoles_, which he piled up neatly on the table by which they
+were standing; to the great admiration of the pedant, who thought to
+himself that his friend was a lucky fellow to be in possession of so
+large a sum—absolute wealth in his eyes. But what was his surprise when
+Bellombre swept them all up and put them into his own hands.
+
+“You must have understood,” he said, “that I did not bring out this
+money in order to torment you in like manner with Tantalus, and I want
+you to take it, without any scruples, as freely as it is given—or
+loaned, if you are too proud to accept a gift from an old friend. These
+pieces were made to circulate—they are round, you see—and by this time
+they must be tired of lying tied up in my old purse there. I have no
+use for them; there’s nothing to spend them on here; the farm produces
+everything that is needed in my household, so I shall not miss them,
+and it is much better in every way that they should be in your hands.”
+
+Not finding any adequate reply to make to this astonishing speech,
+Blazius put the money into his pocket, and, after first administering
+to his friend a cordial accolade, grasped and wrung his hand with
+grateful fervour, while an inconvenient tear, that he had tried in vain
+to wink away, ran down his jolly red nose. As Bellombre had said the
+night before, affairs were brightening with the troupe; good fortune
+had come at last, and the hard times they had met and struggled against
+so bravely and uncomplainingly were among the things of the past. The
+receipts of the previous evening—for there had been some money taken
+in, as well as plentiful stores of edibles—added to Bellombre’s
+_pistoles_, made a good round sum, and the chariot of Thespis, so
+deplorably bare of late, was now amply provisioned. Not to do things by
+halves, their generous host lent to the comedians two stout farm
+horses, with a man to drive them into Poitiers, and bring them back
+home again. They had on their gala-day harness, and from their
+gaudily-painted, high-peaked collars hung strings of tiny bells, that
+jingled cheerily at every firm, regular step of the great, gentle
+creatures. So our travellers set out in high feather, and their entry
+into Poitiers, though not so magnificent as Alexander’s into Babylon,
+was still in very fine style indeed. As they threaded their way through
+the narrow, tortuous streets of that ancient town, the noise of their
+horses’ iron shoes ringing out against the rough stone pavement, and
+the clatter of their wheels drew many inmates of the houses they passed
+to the windows, and a little crowd collected around them as they stood
+waiting for admission before the great entrance door of the _Armes de
+France;_ the driver, meanwhile, cracking his whip till it sounded like
+a volley of musketry, to which the horses responded by shaking their
+heads, and making all the little bells about them jingle sharply and
+merrily. There was a wonderful difference between this and their
+arrival at the last inn they had stopped at—the night of the
+snow-storm—and the landlord, hearing such welcome sounds without, ran
+himself to admit his guests, and opened the two leaves of the great
+door, so that the chariot could pass into the interior court. This
+hotel was the finest in Poitiers, where all the rich and noble
+travellers were in the habit of alighting, and there was an air of
+gaiety and prosperity about it very pleasing to our comedians, in
+contrast with all the comfortless, miserable lodgings they had been
+obliged to put up with for a long time past. The landlord, whose
+double, or rather triple chin testified to bountiful fare, and the
+ruddy tints of his face to the excellence of his wines, seemed to be
+the incarnation of good humour.
+
+He was so plump, so fresh, so rosy and so smiling, that it was a
+pleasure only to look at him. When he saw the tyrant, he fairly bubbled
+over with delight. A troupe of comedians always attracted people to his
+house, and brought him in a great deal of money; for the young men of
+leisure of the town sought their company, and were constantly drinking
+wine with the actors, and giving dainty little suppers, and treats of
+various kinds, to the actresses.
+
+“You are heartily welcome, Seignior Hérode! What happy chance brings
+you this way?” said the landlord, smilingly. “It is a long time since
+we have had the pleasure of seeing you at the _Armes de France_.”
+
+“So it is, Maître Bilot,” the tyrant answered; “but we cannot be giving
+our poor little performances always in the same place, you see; the
+spectators would become so familiar with all our tricks that they could
+do them themselves, so we are forced to absent ourselves for a while.
+And how are things going on here, now? Have you many of the nobility
+and gentry in town at present?”
+
+“A great many, Seignior Hérode, for the hunting is over, so they have
+come in from the châteaux. But they don’t know what to do with
+themselves, for it is so dull and quiet here. People can’t be eating
+and drinking all the time, and they are dying for want of a little
+amusement. You will have full houses.”
+
+“Well,” rejoined the tyrant, “then please give us seven or eight good
+rooms, have three or four fat capons put down to roast, bring up, from
+that famous cellar of yours, a dozen of the capital wine I used to
+drink here—you know which I mean—and spread abroad the news of the
+arrival of Hérode’s celebrated troupe at the _Armes de France_, with a
+new and extensive _repertoire_, to give a few representations in
+Poitiers.”
+
+While this conversation was going on the rest of the comedians had
+alighted, and were already being conducted to their respective rooms by
+several servants. The one given to Isabelle was a little apart from the
+others—those in their immediate vicinity being occupied—which was not
+displeasing to the modest young girl, who was often greatly annoyed and
+embarrassed by the promiscuous, free-and-easy way of getting on,
+inseparable from such a Bohemian life. She always accepted the
+inevitable with a good grace, and never complained of the vexation she
+felt at being obliged to share her bed-chamber with Serafina or the
+duenna, or perhaps both; but it was a luxury she had scarcely dared to
+hope for to have her room entirely to herself, and moreover
+sufficiently distant from her companions to insure her a good deal of
+privacy.
+
+In a marvellously short space of time the whole town had become
+acquainted with the news of the arrival of the comedians, and the young
+men of wealth and fashion began flocking to the hotel, to drink a
+bottle of Maître Bilot’s wine, and question him about the beauty and
+charms of the actresses; curling up the points of their mustaches as
+they did so with such an absurdly conceited, insolent air of imaginary
+triumph, that the worthy landlord could not help laughing in his sleeve
+at them as he gave his discreet, mysterious answers, accompanied by
+significant gestures calculated to turn the silly heads of these
+dandified young calves, and make them wild with curiosity and
+impatience.
+
+Isabelle, when left alone, had first unpacked a portion of her
+clothing, and arranged it neatly on the shelves of the wardrobe in her
+room, and then proceeded to indulge in the luxury of a bath and
+complete change of linen. She took down her long, fine, silky hair,
+combed it carefully, and arranged it tastefully, with a pale blue
+ribbon entwined artistically in it; which delicate tint was very
+becoming to her, with her fair, diaphanous complexion, and lovely
+flush, like a rose-leaf, on her cheek. When she had put on the silvery
+gray dress, with its pretty blue trimmings, which completed her simple
+toilet, she smiled at her own charming reflection in the glass, and
+thought of a pair of dark, speaking eyes that she knew would find her
+fair, and pleasant to look upon. As she turned away from the mirror a
+sunbeam streamed in through her window, and she could not resist the
+temptation to open the casement and put her pretty head out, to see
+what view there might be from it. She looked down into a narrow,
+deserted alley, with the wall of the hotel on one side and that of the
+garden opposite on the other, so high that it reached above the tops of
+the trees within. From her window she could look down into this garden,
+and see, quite at the other end of it, the large mansion it belonged
+to, whose lofty, blackened walls testified to its antiquity. Two
+gentlemen were walking slowly, arm in arm, along one of the broad paths
+leading towards the house, engrossed in conversation; both were young
+and handsome, but they were scarcely of equal rank, judging by the
+marked deference paid by one, the elder, to the other.
+
+We will call this friendly pair Orestes and Pylades for the present,
+until we ascertain their real names. The former was about one or two
+and twenty, and remarkably handsome and _distingué_—strikingly so—with
+a very white skin, intensely black hair and eyes, a tall, slender,
+lithe figure, shown to advantage by the rich costume of tan-coloured
+velvet he wore; and well-formed feet, with high, arched insteps, small
+and delicate enough for a woman’s—that more than one woman had envied
+him—encased in dainty, perfectly fitting boots, made of white Russia
+leather. From the careless ease of his manners, and the haughty grace
+of his carriage, one would readily divine that he was a great noble;
+one of the favoured few of the earth, who are sure of being well
+received everywhere, and courted and flattered by everybody. Pylades,
+though a good-looking fellow enough, with auburn hair and mustache, was
+not nearly so handsome or striking, either in face or figure, as his
+companion. They were talking of women; Orestes declaring himself a
+woman-hater from that time forward, because of what he was pleased to
+call the persecutions of his latest mistress, of whom he was thoroughly
+tired—no new thing with him—but who would not submit to be thrown
+aside, like a cast-off glove, without making a struggle to regain the
+favour of her ci-devant admirer. He was anathematizing the vanity,
+treachery, and deceitfulness of all women, without exception, from the
+duchess down to the dairy-maid, and declaring that he should renounce
+their society altogether for the future, when they reached the end of
+the walk, at the house, and turned about to pace its length again.
+
+As they did so he chanced to glance upward, and perceived Isabelle at
+her window. He nudged his companion, to direct his attention to her, as
+he said, “Just look up at that window! Do you see the delicious,
+adorable creature there? She seems a goddess, rather than a mere mortal
+woman—Aurora, looking forth from her chamber in the East—with her
+golden brown hair, her heavenly countenance, and her sweet, soft eyes.
+Only observe the exquisite grace of her attitude—leaning slightly
+forward on one elbow, so as to bring into fine relief the shapely
+curves of her beautiful form. I would be willing to swear that hers is
+a lovely character—different from the rest of her sex. She is one by
+herself—a peerless creature—a very pearl of womanhood—a being fit for
+Paradise. Her face tells me that she is modest, pure, amiable, and
+refined. Her manners must be charming, her conversation fresh,
+sparkling, and elevating.”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed Pylades, laughingly, “what good eyes you must
+have to make out all that at such a distance! Now I see merely a woman
+at a window, who is rather pretty, to tell the honest truth, but not
+likely to possess half the perfections you so lavishly bestow upon her.
+Take care, or you will be in love with her directly.”
+
+“Oh! I’m that now, over head and ears. I must find out forthwith who
+she is, and what; but one thing is certain, mine she must be, though it
+cost me the half, nay, the whole of my fortune to win her, and there be
+a hundred rivals to overcome and slay ere I can carry her off from them
+in triumph.”
+
+“Come, come, don’t get so excited,” said Pylades, “you will throw
+yourself into a fever; but what has become of the contempt and hatred
+for the fair sex you were declaring so vehemently just now? The first
+pretty face has routed it all.”
+
+“But when I talked like that I did not know that this lovely angel
+existed upon earth, and what I said was an odious, outrageous
+blasphemy—a monstrous, abominable heresy—for which I pray that Venus,
+fair goddess of love and beauty, will graciously forgive me.”
+
+“Oh, yes! she’ll forgive you fast enough, never fear, for she is always
+very indulgent to such hot-headed lovers as you are.”
+
+“I am going to open the campaign,” said Orestes, “and declare war
+courteously on my beautiful enemy.”
+
+With these words he stopped short, fixed his bold eyes on Isabelle’s
+face, took off his hat, in a gallant and respectful way, so that its
+long plume swept the ground, and wafted a kiss on the tips of his
+fingers towards the new object of his ardent admiration. The young
+actress, who saw this demonstration with much annoyance, assumed a
+cold, composed manner, as if to show this insolent fellow that he had
+made a mistake, drew back from the window, closed it, and let fall the
+curtain; all done calmly and deliberately, and with the frigid dignity
+with which she was wont to rebuke such overtures.
+
+“There,” exclaimed Pylades, “your Aurora is hidden behind a cloud; not
+very promising, that, for the rest of the day.”
+
+“I don’t agree with you; I regard it, on the contrary, as a favourable
+augury that my little beauty has retired. Don’t you know that when the
+soldier hides himself behind the battlements of the tower, it signifies
+that the besieger’s arrow has hit him? I tell you she has mine now,
+sticking in under her left wing; that kiss will force her to think of
+me all night, if only to be vexed with me, and tax me with effrontery—a
+fault which is never displeasing to ladies, I find, though they do
+sometimes make a great outcry about it, for the sake of appearances.
+There is something between me and the fair unknown now; a very slight,
+almost imperceptible thread it may seem at present, but I will so
+manage as to make from it a rope, by which I shall climb up into her
+window.”
+
+“I must admit,” rejoined Pylades respectfully, “that you certainly are
+wonderfully well versed in all the stratagems and ruses of
+love-making.”
+
+“I rather pique myself upon my accomplishments in that line, I will
+confess,” Orestes said, laughingly; “but come, let’s go in now; the
+little beauty was startled, and will not show herself at the window
+again just yet. This evening I shall begin operations in earnest.” And
+the two friends turned about and strolled slowly back towards the
+house, which they presently entered, and disappeared from sight.
+
+There was a large tennis-court not far from the hotel, which was
+wonderfully well suited to make a theatre of; so our comedians hired
+it, took immediate possession, set carpenters and painters to work,
+furbished up their own rather dilapidated scenery and decorations, and
+soon had a charming little theatre, in which all the numbered seats and
+boxes were eagerly snapped up, directly they were offered to “the
+nobility and gentry of Poitiers,” who secured them for all the
+representations to be given by the troupe, so that success was insured.
+The dressing-room of the tennis players had to serve as green-room, and
+dressing-room as well for the comedians, large folding screens being
+disposed round the toilet tables of the actresses, so as to shut them
+off as much as possible from the gentlemen visitors always lounging
+there. Not a very agreeable arrangement for the former, but the best
+that could be done, and highly approved by the latter, of course.
+
+“What a pity it is,” said the tyrant to Blazius, as they were arranging
+what pieces they could play, seated at a window looking into the
+interior court of the _Armes de France_, “what a great pity it is that
+Zerbine is not with us here. She is almost worth her weight in gold,
+that little minx; a real treasure, so full of fun and deviltry that
+nobody can resist her acting; she would make any piece go off well—a
+pearl of _soubrette_s is Zerbine.”
+
+“Yes, she is a rare one,” Blazius replied, with a deep sigh, “and I
+regret more and more every day our having lost her. The devil fly away
+with that naughty marquis who must needs go and rob us of our paragon
+of waiting-maids.”
+
+Just at this point they were interrupted by the noise of an arrival,
+and leaning out of the window saw three fine mules, richly caparisoned
+in the gay Spanish fashion, entering the court, with a great jingling
+of bells and clattering of hoofs. On the first one was mounted a lackey
+in gray livery, and well armed, who led by a long strap a second mule
+heavily laden with baggage, and on the third was a young woman, wrapped
+in a large cloak trimmed with fur, and with her hat, a gray felt with a
+scarlet feather, drawn down over her eyes, so as to conceal her face
+from the two interested spectators at the window above.
+
+“I say, Hérode,” exclaimed the pedant, “doesn’t all this remind you of
+something? It seems to me this is not the first time we have heard the
+jingling of those bells, eh?”
+
+“By Saint Alipantin!” cried the tyrant, joyfully, “these are the very
+mules that carried Zerbine off so mysteriously. Speak of a wolf—”
+
+“And you will hear the rustling of his wings,” interrupted Blazius,
+with a peal of laughter. “Oh! thrice happy day!—day to be marked with
+white!—for this is really Mlle. Zerbine in person. Look, she jumps down
+from her mule with that bewitching little air peculiar to herself, and
+throws her cloak to that obsequious lackey with a nonchalance worthy of
+a princess; there, she has taken off her hat, and shakes out her raven
+tresses as a bird does its feathers; it delights my old eyes to see her
+again. Come, let’s go down and welcome her.”
+
+So Blazius and his companions hastened down to the court, and met
+Zerbine just as she turned to enter the house.
+
+The impetuous girl rushed at the pedant, threw her arms around his
+neck, and kissed him heartily, crying, “I must kiss your dear, jolly,
+ugly old face, just the same as though it were young and handsome, for
+I am so glad, so very glad to see it again. Now don’t you be jealous,
+Hérode, and scowl as if you were just going to order the slaughter of
+the innocents; wait a minute! I’m going to kiss you, too; I only began
+with my dear old Blazius here because he’s the ugliest.”
+
+And Zerbine loyally fulfilled her promise. Then giving a hand to each
+of her companions, went up-stairs between them to the room Maître Bilot
+had ordered to be made ready for her. The moment she entered it she
+threw herself down into an arm-chair standing near the door, and began
+to draw long deep breaths, like a person who has just gotten rid of a
+heavy load.
+
+“You cannot imagine,” she said after a little, “how glad I am to get
+back to you again, though you needn’t go and imagine that I am in love
+with your old phizes because of that; I’m not in love with anybody,
+Heaven be praised! I’m so joyful because I’ve gotten back into my own
+element once more. Everything is badly off out of its own element, you
+know. The water will not do for birds, nor the air for fishes. I am an
+actress by nature, and the atmosphere of the theatre is my native air;
+in it alone do I breathe freely; even its unpleasant odours are sweet
+to my nostrils. Real, everyday life seems very dull and flat. I must
+have imaginary love affairs to manage for other people, and take part
+in the whirl of romantic adventures to be found only on the stage, to
+keep me alive and happy. So I’ve come back to claim my old place again.
+I hope you haven’t found any one else to fill it; though of course I
+know that you couldn’t get anybody to really replace me. If you had I
+should scratch her eyes out, that I promise you, for I am a real little
+devil when my rights are encroached upon, though you might not think
+it.”
+
+“There’s no need for you to show your prowess in that way,” said the
+tyrant, “for we have not had any one to take your role, and we’re
+delighted, overjoyed, to have you back again. If you had had some of
+the magic compound Apuleius tells us of, and had thereby changed
+yourself into a bird, to come and listen to what Blazius and I were
+saying a little while ago, you would have heard nothing but good of
+yourself—a rare thing that for listeners—and you would have heard some
+very enthusiastic praise besides.”
+
+“That’s charming!” the _soubrette_ exclaimed. “I see that you two are
+just the same good old souls as ever, and that you have missed your
+little Zerbine.”
+
+Several servants now came in, carrying trunks, boxes, portmanteaus,
+packages, no end of baggage, which Zerbine counted over and found
+correct; and when they had gone she opened two or three of the larger
+chests with the keys she had on a small silver ring. They were filled
+with all sorts of handsome things—silks and velvets, laces and
+jewels—and among the rest a long purse, crammed as full as it could
+hold of gold pieces, which Zerbine poured out in a heap on the table;
+seeming to take a childish delight in looking at and playing with her
+golden treasure, while laughing and chattering merrily all the time.
+
+“Serafina would burst with rage and envy if she should see all this
+money,” said she gaily, “so we will keep it out of her sight. I only
+show it to you to prove that I didn’t need to return to my profession,
+but was actuated by a pure love of my art. As to you, my good old
+friends, if your finances happen to be not just as you could wish, put
+your paws into this and help yourselves; take just as much as ever they
+will hold.”
+
+The two actors thanked her heartily for her generous offer, but assured
+her that they were very well off, and in need of no assistance.
+
+“Ah well!” said Zerbine, “it will be for another time then. I shall put
+it away in my strong box, and keep it for you, like a faithful
+treasurer.”
+
+“But surely you haven’t abandoned the poor marquis,” said Blazius,
+rather reproachfully. “Of course I know there was no question of his
+giving you up; you are not one of that sort. The role of Ariadne would
+not suit you at all; you are a Circe. Yet he is a splendid young
+nobleman-handsome, wealthy, amiable, and not wanting in wit.”
+
+“Oh! I haven’t given him up; very far from it,” Zerbine replied, with a
+saucy smile. “I shall guard him carefully, as the most precious gem in
+my casket. Though I have quitted him for the moment, he will shortly
+follow me.”
+
+“Fugax sequax, sequax fugax,” the pedant rejoined; “these four Latin
+words, which have a cabalistic sound, not unlike the croaking of
+certain batrachians, and might have been borrowed, one would say, from
+the ‘Comedy of the Frogs,’ by one Aristophanes, an Athenian poet,
+contain the very pith and marrow of all theories of love and
+lovemaking; they would make a capital rule to regulate everybody’s
+conduct—of the virile as well as of the fair sex.”
+
+“And what under the sun do your fine Latin words mean, you pompous old
+pedant?” asked Zerbine. “You have neglected to translate them, entirely
+forgetting that not everybody has been professor in a college, and
+knight of the ferule, like yourself.”
+
+“Their meaning,” he replied, “may be expressed in this little couplet:
+
+‘If you fly from men, they’ll be sure to pursue,
+But if you follow them, they will fly from you.”
+
+
+“Ha! ha!” laughed Zerbine, “that’s a verse that ought to be set to
+music.” And she began singing it to a merry tune at the top of her
+voice; a voice so clear and ringing that it was a pleasure to hear it.
+She accompanied her song with such an amusing and effective pantomime,
+representing flight and pursuit, that it was a pity she had not had a
+larger audience to enjoy it. After this outburst of merriment she
+quieted down a little, and gave her companions a brief, history of her
+adventures since she had parted from them, declaring that the marquis
+had invariably treated her with the courtesy and generosity of a
+prince. But in spite of it all she had longed for her old wandering
+life with the troupe, the excitement of acting, and the rounds of
+applause she never failed to win; and at last she confessed to the
+marquis that she was pining for her role of _soubrette_.
+
+“‘Very well,’ he said to me, ‘you can take your mules and your
+belongings and go in pursuit of the troupe, and I will shortly follow
+in pursuit of you. I have some matters to look after in Paris, that
+have been neglected of late, and I have been too long absent from the
+court. You will permit me to applaud you I suppose, and truth to tell I
+shall be very glad to enjoy your bewitching acting again.’ So I told
+him I would look for him among the audience every evening till he made
+his appearance, and, after the most tender leave-taking, I jumped on my
+mule and caught you up here at the _Armes de France_, as you know.”
+
+“But,” said Hérode, “suppose your marquis should not turn up at all!
+you would be regularly sold.”
+
+This idea struck Zerbine as being so utterly absurd that she threw
+herself back and laughed until she had to hold her sides, and was
+fairly breathless. “The marquis not come!” she cried, when she could
+speak, “you had better engage rooms for him right away—not come! Why my
+fear was that he would overtake me on the road; you will see him very
+soon, I can guarantee. Ah! you abominable old bear! you doubt the power
+of my charms, do you? You’re decidedly growing stupid, Hérode, as you
+grow old; you used to be rather clever than otherwise.”
+
+At this moment appeared Leander and Scapin, who had heard of Zerbine’s
+arrival from the servants, and came to pay their respects, soon
+followed by old Mme. Léonarde, who greeted the _soubrette_ with as much
+obsequiousness as if she had-been a princess. Isabelle came also to
+welcome her, to the great delight of Zerbine, who was devotedly fond of
+her, and always trying to do something to please her. She now insisted
+upon presenting her with a piece of rich silk, which Isabelle accepted
+very reluctantly, and only when she found that the warm-hearted
+_soubrette_ would be really wounded if she refused her first gift.
+Serafina had shut herself up in her own room, and was the only one that
+failed to come and bid Zerbine welcome. She could neither forget nor
+forgive the inexplicable preference of the Marquis de Bruyères for her
+humble rival, and she called the _soubrette_ all sorts of hard names in
+her wrath and indignation; but nobody paid any attention to her bad
+humour, and she was left to sulk in solitude.
+
+When Zerbine asked why Matamore had not come to speak to her with the
+rest, they told her the sad story of his death, and also that the Baron
+de Sigognac now filled his role, under the name of Captain Fracasse.
+
+“It will be a great honour for me to act with a gentleman whose
+ancestors figured honourably in the crusades,” said she, “and I only
+hope that my profound respect for him will not overwhelm me, and spoil
+my acting; fortunately I have become pretty well accustomed to the
+society of people of rank lately.”
+
+A moment later de Sigognac knocked at the door, and came in to greet
+Zerbine, and courteously express his pleasure at her return. She rose
+as he approached, and making a very low curtsey, said, “This is for the
+Baron de Sigognac; and this is for my comrade, Captain Fracasse;”
+kissing him on both cheeks—which unexpected and unprecedented
+proceeding put poor de Sigognac completely out of countenance; partly
+because he was not used to such little theatrical liberties, but more,
+because he was ashamed to have such a thing happen in the presence of
+his pure and peerless Isabelle.
+
+And now we will return to Orestes and Pylades, who, after their
+eventful promenade in the garden, were cosily dining together. The
+former, that is to say the young Duke of Vallombreuse, had scarcely
+eaten any dinner, and had even neglected his glass of wine, so
+preoccupied was he with thoughts of his lovely unknown. The Chevalier
+de Vidalinc, his friend and confidant, tried in vain to draw him into
+conversation; he replied only by monosyllables, or not at all, to the
+other’s brilliant sallies. When the dessert had been put upon the
+table, and the servants had retired and left them alone, the chevalier
+said to the duke: “I am entirely at your service in this new affair, of
+course, ready to help you bag your bird in any way you please; shall I
+go and send out the beaters to drive it towards your nets?”
+
+“No, indeed, you will do nothing of the kind; I shall go myself, for
+there is nothing I enjoy so much as the pursuit of game, of whatever
+sort it may be. I would follow a deer, or a pheasant, to the ends of
+the earth but what I would have it; how much more a divine creature
+like this. It is only after I have captured the flying prize that I
+lose all interest in it; so do not, I pray you, propose to deprive me
+of the delights of the chase; the more difficult it is the better I
+like it, the more fascinating I find it. The most annoying thing is
+that women are always so willing to be caught; if I could only find an
+obdurate, cruel fair one, who would fly from me in earnest, how I
+should adore her! but, alas! such an anomaly does not exist on this
+terraqueous globe.”
+
+“If I were not so well acquainted with your innumerable triumphs, I
+should be obliged to tax you with conceit,” said Vidalinc, “but as it
+is I must admit that you are justified in what you say. But perhaps
+your wish may be gratified this time, for the young beauty certainly
+did seem to be very modest and retiring, as well as positively cold and
+forbidding in her manner of receiving your little act of gallantry.”
+
+“We will see about that, and without any delay. Maître Bilot is always
+ready and glad to tell all he knows whenever he can secure a good
+listener, and he is sharp enough to find out very quickly pretty much
+all that’s worth knowing about his guests in the hotel. Come, we’ll go
+and drink a bottle of his best Madeira; I will draw him out, and get
+all the information he can give us about this fair inmate of his
+house.”
+
+A few minutes later the two young gentlemen entered the _Armes de
+France_, and asked for Maître Bilot. The worthy landlord came forward
+at once, and himself conducted them into a cosy, well-lighted room on
+the ground floor, where a bright fire was burning cheerily; he took the
+old, dusty bottle, with cobwebs clinging about it, from the waiter’s
+hands, drew the cork very carefully, and then poured the amber wine, as
+clear as a topaz, into the delicate Venetian glasses held out for it by
+the duke and his companion, with a hand as steady as if it had been of
+bronze. In taking upon himself this office Maître Bilot affected an
+almost religious solemnity, as though he were a priest of Bacchus,
+officiating at his altar, and about to celebrate the mysterious rites
+of the ancient worshippers of that merry god; nothing was wanting but
+the crown of vine leaves. He seemed to think that this ceremoniousness
+was a sort of testimony to the superior quality of the wine from his
+well-stocked cellar, which needed no recommendation, for it was really
+very good, worthy of even a royal table, and of wide-spread fame.
+
+Maître Bilot, having finished his little performance, was about to
+withdraw, when a significant glance from the duke made him pause
+respectfully on the threshold.
+
+“Maître Bilot,” said he, “fetch a glass for yourself from the buffet
+there, and come and drink a bumper of this capital wine to my health.”
+
+This command, for such it was in reality, was instantly obeyed, and
+after emptying his glass at a single draught, the well-pleased landlord
+stood, with one hand resting on the table and his eyes fixed on the
+duke, waiting to see, what was wanted of him.
+
+“Have you many strangers in your house now?” asked Vallombreuse, “and
+who and what are they?” Bilot was about to reply, but the young duke
+interrupted him, and continued, “But what’s the use of beating about
+the bush with such a wily old miscreant as you are, Maître Bilot? Who
+is the lady that has the room with a window, the third one from the
+corner, looking into my garden? Answer to the point, and you shall have
+a gold piece for every syllable.”
+
+“Under those conditions,” said Bilot, with a broad grin, “one must be
+very virtuous indeed to make use of the laconic style so highly
+esteemed by the ancients. However, as I am devoted to your lordship, I
+will answer in a single word—Isabelle.”
+
+“Isabelle! a charming and romantic name. But do not confine yourself to
+such Lacedaemonian brevity, Maître Bilot; be prolix! and relate to me,
+minutely, everything that you know about the lovely Isabelle.”
+
+“I am proud and happy to obey your lordship’s commands,” the worthy
+landlord answered, with a low bow; “my cellar, my kitchen, my tongue
+and myself are all at your lordship’s disposition. Isabelle is an
+actress, belonging to the celebrated troupe of Seignior Hérode,
+stopping at present at the _Armes de France_.”
+
+“An actress!” exclaimed the young duke, with an air of disappointment.
+“I should have taken her for a lady of rank, from her quiet, dignified
+mien, or at least a well-bred _bourgeoise_, rather than a member of a
+band of strolling players.”
+
+“Yes, your lordship is right; any one might think so, for her manners
+and appearance are very lady-like, and she has an untarnished
+reputation, despite the difficulties of her position. No one
+understands better how to keep all the gallants that hover about her at
+a respectful distance; she treats these would-be suitors for her favour
+with a cold, reserved, yet perfect politeness that there is no getting
+over.”
+
+“What you say pleases me,” interrupted Vallombreuse, “for there is
+nothing I so thoroughly despise as a fortress that is ready to
+capitulate before the first assault has been made.”
+
+“It would need more than one to conquer this fair citadel, my lord,
+though you are a bold and successful captain, not used to encountering
+any serious resistance, and sweeping everything before you; and,
+moreover, it is guarded by the vigilant sentinel of a pure and devoted
+love.”
+
+“Oh ho! she has a lover then, this modest Isabelle!” cried the young
+duke, in a tone at once triumphant and annoyed, for though on the one
+side he had no faith in the steadfast virtue of any woman, on the other
+he was vexed to learn that he had a successful rival.
+
+“I said love, not lover,” continued the landlord with respectful
+persistency, “which is by no means the same thing. Your lordship is too
+well versed in such matters not to appreciate the difference. A woman
+that has one lover may have two, as the old song says; but a woman who
+loves, with a pure love, and has that love returned in every sense, it
+is impossible, or at least very difficult, to win away from it. She
+possesses already everything that you, my lord, or any one, could offer
+for her acceptance.”
+
+“You talk as if you had been studying the subject of love
+diligently—and Petrarch’s sonnets as well; but notwithstanding all
+that, Maître Bilot, I don’t believe you thoroughly understand anything
+outside of your own wines and sauces, which, I am bound to admit, are
+always excellent. And pray, who is the favoured object of this Platonic
+attachment?”
+
+“One of the members of the troupe,” Bilot replied, “and it is not to be
+wondered at, for he’s a handsome young fellow, and very different from
+the rest of them; far superior, more like a gentleman than an actor;
+and I shrewdly suspect he is one,” added the landlord, with a knowing
+look.
+
+“Well, now you must be happy!” said the Chevalier de Vidalinc to his
+friend. “Here are unexpected obstacles in plenty, and a perfect
+none-such of a prize. A virtuous actress is a rare phenomenon, not to
+be found every day in the week. You are in luck!”
+
+“Are you sure,” continued the young duke, still addressing the
+landlord, and without paying any attention to the last remark, “that
+this chaste Isabelle does not accord any privileges secretly to that
+conceited young jackanapes? I despise the fellow thoroughly, and detest
+him as well.”
+
+“Your lordship does not know her,” answered Maître Bilot, “or I should
+not need to declare, as I do, that she is as spotless as the ermine.
+She would rather die than suffer a stain upon her purity. It is
+impossible to see much of her without perceiving that; it shines out in
+everything that she says and does.”
+
+Hereupon a long discussion followed as to the best manner of conducting
+the attack upon this fair citadel, which the young nobleman became more
+and more determined to conquer, as new difficulties were suggested. The
+worthy landlord, who was a shrewd fellow and had made a just estimate
+of Isabelle’s character, finished by advising his noble interlocutor to
+turn his attention to Serafina, “who was very charming, and not less
+beautiful than Isabelle, and who would be greatly pleased and flattered
+by his lordship’s notice.” This, because he felt sure that the duke
+would not succeed with Isabelle, in spite of his exalted rank, handsome
+person, and immense wealth, and he wished to spare him an inevitable
+disappointment.
+
+“It is Isabelle that I admire, and will have,” said Vallombreuse, in a
+dry tone that put an end to the discussion. “Isabelle, and no other,
+Maître Bilot.”
+
+Then plunging his hand into his pocket, he drew forth a goodly number
+of gold pieces, and throwing them down carelessly on the table, said,
+“Pay yourself for the bottle of wine out of this, and keep the
+balance.”
+
+The landlord gathered up the _louis_ with a deprecating air, and
+dropped them one by one into his purse. The two gentlemen rose, without
+another word, put on their broad, plumed hats, threw their cloaks on
+their shoulders, and quitted the hotel. Vallombreuse took several turns
+up and down the narrow alley between the _Armes de France_ and his own
+garden wall, looking up searchingly at Isabelle’s window every time he
+passed under it; but it was all for naught. Isabelle, now on her guard,
+did not approach the window again; the curtain was drawn closely over
+it, and not a sign visible from without that the room was occupied.
+Tired at last of this dull work, the duke slowly withdrew to his own
+mansion, feeling highly indignant that this inappreciative little
+actress should presume to slight the attentions of a great and powerful
+noble like himself; but he found some comfort in the thought that when
+she came to see and know him she could not long hold out against his
+numerous attractions. As to his rival—if the fellow ventured to
+interfere with him too much, he would quietly suppress him, by means of
+certain stout ruffians—professional cut-throats—he had in his employ,
+to do all that sort of work for him; his own dignity not allowing him
+to come into personal contact with such cattle as actors. Though
+Vallombreuse had not seen anything of Isabelle at her window, he
+himself had been closely watched, by jealous eyes, from a neighbouring
+casement that commanded the same view. They belonged to de Sigognac,
+who was greatly annoyed and incensed by the manœuvres of this
+mysterious personage under Isabelle’s window. A dozen times he was on
+the point of rushing down, sword in hand, to attack and drive away the
+impertinent unknown; but he controlled himself by a strong effort; for
+there was after all nothing in the mere fact of a man’s promenading
+back and forth in a deserted alley to justify him in such an onslaught,
+and he would only bring down ridicule on himself; besides, the name of
+Isabelle might be dragged in—sweet Isabelle, who was all unconscious of
+the ardent glances directed at her window from below, as well as of the
+burning indignation, because of them, of her own true lover close at
+hand. But he promised himself to keep a watchful eye for the future
+upon this young gallant, and studied his features carefully, every time
+his face was raised towards Isabelle’s window, so that he should be
+sure to recognise him when he saw him again.
+
+Hérode had selected for their first representation in Poitiers a new
+play, which all the comedians were very much occupied in learning and
+rehearsing, to be followed by the Rodomontades of Captain Fracasse, in
+which de Sigognac was to make his real debut before a real public
+having only acted as yet to an audience of calves, horned cattle, and
+peasants in Bellombre’s barn. He was studying diligently under the
+direction of Blazius, who was more devoted to him than ever, and who
+had proposed something which was a most welcome suggestion to the
+sensitive young baron. This was for him to wear what is called a
+half-mask, which covers only the forehead and nose, but if arranged
+with skill alters entirely the wearer’s appearance—so that his nearest
+friend would not recognise him—without interfering materially with his
+comfort. This idea de Sigognac hailed with delight, for it insured his
+preserving his incognito; the light pasteboard screen seemed to him
+like the closed visor of a helmet, behind which he need not shrink from
+facing the enemy—that is to stay the gazing crowd on the other side of
+the foot-lights. With it he would take merely the part of the unknown,
+concealed intelligence that directs the movements of the marionette,
+and the voice that makes it speak; only he should be within it, instead
+of behind the scenes pulling the strings—his dignity would have nothing
+to suffer in playing the game in that manner, and for this relief from
+a dreaded ordeal he was unspeakably thankful. Blazius, who never could
+take too much pains in the service of his dear baron, himself modelled
+and fashioned the little mask, very deftly, so as to make his stage
+physiognomy as unlike his real, every-day countenance as possible. A
+prominent nose, very red at the point, bushy, high-arched eyebrows, and
+an immensely heavy mustache drooping over his mouth, completely
+disguised the well-cut, regular features of the handsome young
+nobleman, and although in reality it only concealed the forehead and
+nose, yet it transfigured the whole face.
+
+There was to be a dress rehearsal the evening before the first
+representation, so that they might judge of the general effect in their
+improvised theatre, and test its capabilities; and as the actresses
+could not very well go through the streets in full costume, they were
+to finish their toilets in the green-room, while the actor themselves
+ready for the stage in the small dressing-closets set aside for that
+purpose. All the gentlemen in Poitiers, young and old, were wild to
+penetrate into this temple, or rather sacristy, of Thalia, where the
+priestesses of that widely worshipped muse adorned themselves to
+celebrate her mysterious rites, and a great number of them had
+succeeded in gaining admittance. They crowded round the actresses,
+offering advice as to the placing of a flower or a jewel, handing the
+powder-box or the rouge-pot, presenting the little hand-mirror, taking
+upon themselves all such small offices with the greatest
+“_empressement_,” and vying with each other in their gallant attendance
+upon the fair objects of their admiration; the younger and more timid
+among them holding a little aloof and sitting on the large chests
+scattered about, swinging their feet and twisting their mustaches,
+while they watched the proceedings of their bolder companions with
+envious eyes. Each actress had her own circle of admiring cavaliers
+about her, paying her high-flown compliments in the exaggerated
+language of the day, and doing their best to make themselves agreeable
+in every way they could think of. Zerbine laughed at them all, and made
+fun of them unmercifully, turning everything they said into ridicule;
+yet so coquettishly that they thought her bewitching, in spite of her
+sharp tongue, which was like a two-edged sword. Serafina, whose vanity
+was overweening, delighted in the fulsome homage paid to her charms,
+and smiled encouragingly upon her throng of admirers, but Isabelle, who
+was intensely annoyed at the whole thing, did not pay the slightest
+attention to them, nor even once raise her eyes to look at them; being
+apparently absorbed in the duties of her toilet, which she accomplished
+as quietly and modestly as possible—having left only the finishing
+touches to be given in that public place.
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse was careful, of course, not to miss this
+excellent opportunity, of which he had been informed by Maître Bilot,
+to see Isabelle again, and entering the green-room in good season,
+followed by his friend Vidalinc, marched straight up to her
+toilet-table. He was enchanted to find that, on this close inspection,
+she was even more beautiful than he had supposed, and in his
+enthusiastic delight at this discovery could scarcely refrain from
+seizing her in his arms and declaring his passion there and then; only
+the presence of the crowd of lookers-on saved Isabelle from what would
+have been a most trying and painful scene.
+
+The young duke was superbly dressed. He had spared no pains, for he
+wanted to dazzle Isabelle, and he certainly did look splendidly
+handsome. He wore a magnificent costume of rich white satin, slashed
+and trimmed with crimson, with many knots of ribbon about it fastened
+with diamond clasps, with broad ruffles of exquisitely fine lace at
+throat and wrists, with a wide belt of cloth of silver supporting his
+sword, and with perfumed gloves on the hands that held his white felt
+hat, with its long crimson feather. His wavy black hair fell around the
+perfect oval of his face, enhancing its smooth whiteness; a delicate
+mustache shaded, not concealed, his full red lips; his splendid, great
+black eyes flashed through their thick, silky fringes, and his neck,
+white and round as a marble column, rose from amid its surrounding of
+soft, priceless lace, proudly supporting his haughty, handsome head.
+Yet with all this perfection of outline and colouring, his appearance
+was not entirely pleasing; a repelling haughtiness shone out through
+the perfectly modelled features, and it was but too evident that the
+joys and sorrows of his fellow mortals would awaken no sympathy in the
+owner of that surpassingly handsome face and form. He believed that he
+was not made of common clay like other men, but was a being of a higher
+order, who condescended to mingle with his inferiors—a piece of fine
+porcelain amid homely vessels of coarser earthenware.
+
+Vallombreuse stationed himself silently close beside the mirror on
+Isabelle’s dressing-table, leaning one elbow on its frame all the other
+gallants respectfully making way for him—just where she could not
+possibly help seeing him whenever she looked in the glass; a skilful
+manœuvre, which would surely have succeeded with any other than this
+modest young girl. He wished to produce an impression, before
+addressing a word to her, by his personal beauty, his lordly mien, and
+his magnificence of apparel. Isabelle, who had instantly recognised the
+audacious gallant of the garden, and who was displeased by the
+imperious ardour of his gaze, redoubled her reserve of manner, and did
+not lift her eyes to the mirror in front of her at all; she did not
+even seem to be aware that one of the handsomest young noblemen in all
+France was standing there before her, trying to win a glance from her
+lovely eyes—but then, she was a singular girl, this sweet Isabelle! At
+length, exasperated by her utter indifference, Vallombreuse suddenly
+took the initiative, and said to her, “Mademoiselle, you take the part
+of Sylvia in this new play, do you not?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” Isabelle answered curtly, without looking at him—not able
+to evade this direct question.
+
+“Then never will a part have been so admirably played,” continued the
+duke. “If it is poor your acting will make it excellent, if it is fine
+you will make it peerless. Ah! happy indeed the poet whose verses are
+intrusted to those lovely lips of yours.”
+
+These vague compliments were only such as admiring gallants were in the
+habit of lavishing upon pretty actresses, and Isabelle could not with
+any show of reason resent it openly, but she acknowledged it only by a
+very slight bend of the head, and still without looking up. At this
+moment de Sigognac entered the green-room; he was masked and in full
+costume, just buckling around his waist the belt of the big sword he
+had inherited from Matamore, with the cobweb dangling from the
+scabbard. He also marched straight up to Isabelle, and was received
+with a radiant smile.
+
+“You are capitally gotten up,” she said to him in a low, tone, so low
+that he had to bend down nearer her to hear, “and I am sure that no
+fierce Spanish captain ever had a more superbly arrogant air than you.”
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse drew himself up to his full height, and looked
+this unwelcome new-comer over from head to foot, with an air of the
+coolest, most haughty disdain. “This must be the contemptible scoundrel
+they say she’s in love with,” he said to himself, swelling with
+indignation and spite—filled with amazement too—for he could not
+conceive of a woman’s hesitating for an instant between the magnificent
+young Duke of Vallombreuse and this ridiculous play-actor. After the
+first rapid glance he made as if he did not perceive de Sigognac at
+all, no more than if he had been a piece of furniture standing there;
+for him Captain Fracasse was not a _man_, but a _thing_, and he
+continued to gaze fixedly at poor Isabelle—his eyes fairly blazing with
+passion—exactly as though no one was near. She, confused at last, and
+alarmed, blushed painfully, in spite of all her efforts to appear calm
+and unmoved, and hastened to finish what little remained to be done, so
+that she might make her escape, for she could see de Sigognac’s hand
+close spasmodically on the handle of his sword, and, realizing how he
+must be feeling, feared an outbreak on his part. With trembling fingers
+she adjusted a little black “_mouche_” near the corner of her pretty
+mouth, and pushed back her chair preparatory to rising from it—having a
+legitimate cause for haste, as the tyrant had already more than once
+roared out from the stage door, “Mesdemoiselles, are you ready?”
+
+“Permit me, mademoiselle,” said the duke starting forward, “you have
+forgotten to put on an ‘_assassine_,’” and touching the tip of his
+forefinger to his lips he plunged it into the box of patches standing
+open on the dressing-table, and brought one out on it. “Permit me to
+put it on for you—here, just above your snowy bosom; it will enhance
+its exquisite whiteness.”
+
+The action followed so quickly upon the words that Isabelle, terrified
+at this cruel effrontery, had scarcely time to start to one side, and
+so escape his profane touch; but the duke was not one to be easily
+balked in anything he particularly desired to do, and pressing nearer
+he again extended his hand towards Isabelle’s white neck, and had
+almost succeeded in accomplishing his object, when his arm was seized
+from behind, and held firmly in a grasp of iron.
+
+Furiously angry, he turned his head to see who had dared to lay hands
+upon his sacred person, and perceived that it was the odious Captain
+Fracasse.
+
+“My lord duke,” said he calmly, still holding his wrist firmly,
+“Mademoiselle is in need of no assistance from you, or any one else, in
+this matter.” Then his grasp relaxed and he let go of the duke’s arm.
+
+Vallombreuse, who looked positively hideous at that moment, his face
+pale to ghastliness and disfigured by the rage he felt, grasped the
+hilt of his sword with the hand released by de Sigognac, and drew it
+partly out of its scabbard, as if he meant to attack him, his eyes
+flashing fire and every feature working in its frenzy—the baron
+meanwhile standing perfectly motionless, quietly awaiting the onset.
+
+But ere he had touched him the duke stopped short; a sudden thought had
+extinguished his blazing fury like a douche of cold water; his
+self-control returned, his face resumed its wonted expression, the
+colour came to his lips, and his eyes showed the most icy disdain, the
+most supreme contempt that it could be possible for one human being to
+manifest for another. He had remembered just in time that he must not
+so greatly demean himself as to cross swords with a person of no birth,
+and an actor besides; all his pride revolted at the bare idea of such a
+thing. An insult coming from a creature so low in the social scale
+could not reach him. Does a gentleman declare war upon the mud that
+bespatters him? However, it was not in his character to leave an
+offence unpunished, no matter whence it proceeded, and stepping nearer
+to de Sigognac he said, “You impertinent scoundrel, I will have every
+bone in your body broken for you with cudgels, by my lackeys.”
+
+“You’d better take care what you do, my lord,” answered the baron, in
+the most tranquil tone and with the most careless air imaginable,
+“you’d much better take care what you do! My bones are not so easily
+broken, but cudgels may be. I do not put up with blows anywhere but on
+the stage.”
+
+“However insolent you may choose to be, you graceless rascal, you
+cannot provoke me to do you so much honour as to attack you myself;
+that is too high an ambition for such as you to realize,” said
+Vallombreuse, scornfully.
+
+“We will see about that, my lord duke,” de Sigognac replied; “it may
+happen that I, having less pride than yourself, will fight you, and
+conquer you, with my own hands.”
+
+“I do not dispute with a masker,” said the duke shortly, taking
+Vidalinc’s arm as if to depart.
+
+“I will show you my face, duke, at a more fitting time and place,” de
+Sigognac continued composedly, “and I think it will be still more
+distasteful to you than my false nose. But enough for the present. I
+hear the bell that summons me, and if I wait any longer here with you I
+shall miss my entry at the proper moment.”
+
+He turned on his heel and leisurely walked off, with admirable
+nonchalance, leaving the haughty duke very much disconcerted, and at a
+disadvantage, as indeed de Sigognac had cleverly managed that he should
+be throughout the brief interview.
+
+The comedians were charmed with his courage and coolness, but, knowing
+his real rank, were not so much astonished as the other spectators of
+this extraordinary scene, who were both shocked and amazed at such
+temerity.
+
+Isabelle was so terrified and excited by this fierce altercation that a
+deathly pallor had overspread her troubled face, and Zerbine, who had
+flown to her assistance, had to fetch some of her own rouge and bestow
+it plentifully upon the colourless lips and cheeks before she could
+obey the tyrant’s impatient call, again resounding through the
+green-room.
+
+When she tried to rise her trembling knees had nearly given way under
+her, and but for the _soubrette’s_ kind support she must have fallen to
+the floor. To have been the cause, though innocently, of a quarrel like
+this was a terrible blow to poor Isabelle sweet, pure, modest child
+that she was—for she knew that it is a dreadful thing for any woman to
+have her name mixed up in such an affair, and shrank from the publicity
+that could not fail to be given to it; besides, she loved de Sigognac
+with fervour and devotion, though she had never acknowledged it to him,
+and the thought of the danger to which he was exposed, of a secret
+attack by the duke’s hired ruffians, or even of a duel with his
+lordship himself, drove her well-nigh frantic with grief and terror.
+
+In spite of this untoward incident, the rehearsal went on, and very
+smoothly; the theatre was found to be all that they could desire, and
+everybody acted with much spirit. Even poor, trembling Isabelle did
+herself credit, though her heart was heavy within her; but for de
+Sigognac’s dear sake, whose anxious glances she strove to meet with a
+reassuring smile, she succeeded in controlling her emotion, and felt
+inspired to do her very best. As to Captain Fracasse, excited by the
+quarrel, he acted superbly. Zerbine surpassed herself. Shouts of
+laughter and storms of clapping followed her animated words and
+gestures. From one corner, near the orchestra, came such vigorous
+bursts of applause, leading all the rest and lasting longer than any,
+that at last Zerbine’s attention was attracted and her curiosity
+excited.
+
+Approaching the foot-lights, in such a way as to make it appear part of
+her usual by-play, she peered over them and caught sight of her
+marquis, beaming with smiles and flushed from his violent efforts in
+her behalf.
+
+“The marquis is here,” she managed to whisper to Blazius, who was
+playing Pandolphe; “just look at him! how delighted he is, and how he
+applauds me—till he is actually red in the face, the dear man! So he
+admires my acting, does he? Well, he shall have a spicy specimen of it,
+then.”
+
+Zerbine kept her word, and, from that on to the end of the piece,
+played with redoubled spirit. She was never so sparkling, so
+bewitchingly coquettish, so charmingly mischievous before, and the
+delighted marquis was more fascinated than ever. The new play, entitled
+“Lygdamon et Lydias,” and written by a certain Georges de Scudéry (a
+gentleman who, after having served with honour in the French Guards,
+quitted the sword for the pen, which he wielded with equal success),
+was next rehearsed, and highly approved by all—without a single
+dissenting voice. Leander, who played the leading part of Lygdamon, was
+really admirable in it, and entertained high hopes of the effect he
+should produce upon the fair ladies of Poitiers and its environs.
+
+But we will leave our comedians now, and follow the Duke of
+Vallombreuse and his devoted friend Vidalinc.
+
+Quite beside himself with rage, the young duke, after the scene in the
+green-room in which he had played so unsatisfactory a part to himself,
+returned to his own home and there raved to Vidalinc about his revenge,
+threatening the insolent captain with all manner of punishments, and
+going on like a madman. His friend tried in vain to soothe him.
+
+He rushed wildly around the room, wringing his hands, kicking the
+furniture about right and left, upsetting tables and arm-chairs, and
+finally, seizing a large Japanese vase, very curious and costly, threw
+it violently on the floor, where it broke into a thousand pieces.
+
+“Oh!” he shrieked, “if I could only smash that abominable blackguard
+like this vase, trample him under foot as I do this debris, and then
+have the remains of him swept up and thrown out into the dust-heap,
+where he belongs. A miserable scoundrel, that dares to interpose
+between me, the Duke of Vallombreuse, and the object of my desires! If
+he were only a gentleman I would fight him, on foot or on horseback,
+with swords, daggers, pistols, anything in the shape of a weapon, until
+I had him down, with my foot on his breast, and could spit into the
+face of his corpse.”
+
+“Perhaps he is one,” said Vidalinc; “his audacious defiance looks like
+it. You remember what Maître Bilot told you about Isabelle’s favoured
+lover? This must be the one, judging by his jealousy of you, and the
+agitation of the girl.”
+
+“Do you really mean what you say?” cried Vallombreuse, contemptuously.
+“What! a man of birth and condition mingle voluntarily and on terms of
+equality with these low buffoons of actors, paint his nose red, and
+strut about the stage, receiving cuffs and kicks from everybody? Oh no,
+Vidalinc, the thing is impossible.”
+
+“But just remember,” persisted the chevalier, “that mighty Jove himself
+resorted to the expedient of adopting the shapes of various beasts, as
+well as birds, in his terrestrial love affairs, which was surely much
+more derogatory to the majesty of the king of the gods than to play in
+a comedy is to the dignity of a gentleman.”
+
+“Never mind,” said the duke, as he rang a small hand bell sharply; “be
+he what he may, I intend first to have the scamp well punished in his
+character of play-actor; even though I should be obliged to chastise
+the gentleman afterward, if there prove to be one hidden behind that
+ridiculous mask—which idea I cannot credit.”
+
+“If there be one! There’s no doubt of it, I tell you,” rejoined his
+friend, with an air of conviction. “The more I think of it, the more
+positive I am of it. Why, his eyes shone like stars under his
+overhanging false eye-brows, and in spite of his absurd pasteboard nose
+he had a grand, majestic air about him that was very imposing, and
+would be utterly impossible to a low-born man.”
+
+“Well, so much the better,” said Vallombreuse; “for if you are right, I
+can make his punishment twofold.”
+
+Meantime a servant, in rich livery, had entered, and after bowing low
+stood as motionless as a statue, with one hand on the knob of the door,
+awaiting his master’s orders; which were presently given, as follows:
+“Go and call up Basque, Azolan, Mérindol, and Labriche, if they have
+gone to bed; tell them to arm themselves with stout cudgels and go down
+to the tennis-court, find a dark corner near by and wait there, until
+the players come out, for a certain Captain Fracasse. They are to fall
+upon him and beat him until they leave him for dead upon the pavement,
+but to be careful not to kill him outright—it might be thought that I
+was afraid of him if they did, you know,” in an aside to Vidalinc.
+
+“I will be responsible for the consequences; and with every blow they
+are to cry, ‘This is from the Duke of Vallombreuse,’ so that he may
+understand plainly what it means.”
+
+This order, though of so savage and fierce a nature, did not seem to
+surprise the lackey, who, as he retired, assured his lordship, with an
+unmoved countenance and another low bow, that his commands should be
+immediately obeyed.
+
+“I am sorry,” said Vidalinc, after the servant had closed the door
+behind him, “that you mean to treat this man so roughly, for after all
+he showed a spirit superior to his position, and becoming a gentleman.
+Suppose you let me go and pick a quarrel with him, and kill him for you
+in a duel. All blood is red when it is shed, the lowly as well as the
+lofty, though they do pretend that the blood of the nobles is blue. I
+come of a good and ancient family, if not so high in rank as yours, and
+I have no fear of belittling myself in this affair. Only say the word,
+and I will go this instant, for this histrionic captain is, it seems to
+me, more worthy of the sword of a gentleman than the cudgels of your
+hired ruffians.”
+
+“I thank you heartily for this offer,” answered the duke, “which proves
+your faithful devotion to me and my interests, but I cannot accept it.
+That low scoundrel has dared to lay hands upon me, and he must expiate
+his crime in the most ignominious way. Should he prove to be a
+gentleman, he will be able to find redress. I never fail to respond, as
+you know, when there is question of settling a matter by the sword.”
+
+“As you please, my lord duke,” said Vidalinc, stretching out his legs
+lazily and putting his feet on the fender, with the air of a man who
+can do no more, but must stand aside and let things take their own
+course. “By the way, do you know that that Serafina is charming? I paid
+her several compliments, which were very graciously received; and more
+than that, she has promised to allow me to call upon her, and appointed
+the time. She is a very amiable as well as beautiful young woman.
+Maître Bilot was perfectly correct in his statements to us.”
+
+After which the two gentlemen awaited, in almost unbroken silence, the
+return of the _four_ ruffians who had gone forth to chastise de
+Sigognac.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+A MÊLÉE AND A DUEL
+
+
+The rehearsal was over, and the comedians were preparing to return to
+their hotel; de Sigognac, expecting some sort of an assault on his way
+through the deserted streets, did not lay aside Matamore’s big sword
+with the rest of his costume. It was an excellent Spanish blade, very
+long, and with a large basket hilt, which made a perfect protection for
+the hand—altogether a weapon which, wielded by a brave man, was by no
+means to be despised, and which could give, as well as parry, good hard
+thrusts. Though scarcely able to inflict a mortal wound, as the point
+and edge had been blunted, according to the usual custom of theatrical
+sword owners, it would be, however, all that was requisite to defend
+its wearer against the cudgels of the ruffians that the Duke of
+Vallombreuse had despatched to administer his promised punishment.
+Hérode, who also anticipated an attack upon de Sigognac, and was not
+one to desert a friend when danger threatened, took the precaution to
+arm himself with the big heavy club that was used to give the
+signal—three loud raps—for the rising of the curtain, which made a very
+formidable weapon, and would do good service in his strong hands.
+
+“Captain,” said he to the baron as they quitted the tennis-court, “we
+will let the women go on a little way in advance of us, under the
+escort of Blazius and Leander, one of whom is too old, the other too
+cowardly, to be of any service to us in case of need. And we don’t want
+to have their fair charges terrified, and deafening us with their
+shrieks. Scapin shall accompany us, for he knows a clever trick or two
+for tripping a man up, that I have seen him perform admirably in
+several wrestling bouts. He will lay one or two of our assailants flat
+on their backs for us before they can turn round. In any event here is
+my good club, to supplement your good sword.”
+
+“Thanks, my brave friend Hérode,” answered de Sigognac, “your kind
+offer is not one to be refused; but let us take our precautions not to
+be surprised, though we are in force. We will march along in single
+file, through the very middle of the street, so that these rogues,
+lurking in dark corners, will have to emerge from their hiding places
+to come out to us, and we shall be able to see them before they can
+strike us. I will draw my sword, you brandish your club, and Scapin
+must cut a pigeon wing, so as to make sure that his legs are supple and
+in good working order. Now, forward march!”
+
+He put himself at the head of the little column, and advanced
+cautiously into the narrow street that led from the tennis-court to the
+hotel of the _Armes de France_, which was very crooked, badly paved,
+devoid of lamps, and capitally well calculated for an ambuscade. The
+overhanging gable-ends on either side of the way made the darkness in
+the street below them still more dense—a most favourable circumstance
+for the ruffians lying in wait there. Not a single ray of light
+streamed forth from the shut-up house whose inmates were presumably all
+sleeping soundly in their comfortable beds, and there was no moon that
+night. Basque, Azolan, Labriche and Mérindol had been waiting more than
+half an hour for Captain Fracasse in this street, which they knew he
+was obliged to pass through in returning to his hotel. They had
+disposed themselves in pairs on opposite sides of the way, so that when
+he was between them their clubs could all play upon him together, like
+the hammers of the Cyclops on their great anvil. The passing of the
+group of women, escorted by Blazius and Leander, none of whom perceived
+them, had warned them of the approach of their victim, and they stood
+awaiting his appearance, firmly grasping their cudgels in readiness to
+pounce upon him; little dreaming of the reception in store for them—for
+ordinarily, indeed one may say invariably, the poets, actors,
+_bourgeois_, and such-like, whom the nobles condescended to have
+cudgeled by their hired ruffians, employed expressly for that purpose,
+took their chastisement meekly, and without attempting to make any
+resistance. Despite the extreme darkness of the night, the baron, with
+his penetrating eyes, made out the forms of the four villains lying in
+wait for him, at some distance, and before he came up with them stopped
+and made as if he meant to turn back—which ruse deceived them
+completely—and fearing that their prey was about to escape them, they
+rushed impetuously forth from their hiding places towards him. Azolan
+was the first, closely followed by the others, and all crying at the
+tops of their voices, “Kill! Kill! this for Captain Fracasse, from the
+Duke of Vallombreuse.” Meantime de Sigognac had wound his large cloak
+several times round his left arm for a shield, and receiving upon it
+the first blow from Azolan’s cudgel, returned it with such a violent
+lunge, full in his antagonist’s breast, that the miserable fellow went
+over backward, with great force, right into the gutter running down the
+middle of the street, with his head in the mud and his heels in the
+air. If the point of the sword had not been blunted, it would
+infallibly have gone through his body, and come out between his
+shoulder-blades, leaving a dead man, instead of only a stunned one, on
+the ground. Basque, in spite of his comrade’s disaster, advanced to the
+charge bravely, but a furious blow on his head, with the flat of the
+blade, sent him down like a shot, and made him see scores of stars,
+though there was not one visible in the sky that night. The tyrant’s
+club encountering Mérindol’s cudgel broke it short off, and the latter
+finding himself disarmed, took to his heels; not however without
+receiving a tremendous blow on the shoulder before he could get out of
+Hérode’s reach. Scapin, for his part, had seized Labriche suddenly
+round the waist from behind, pinning down his arms so that he could not
+use his club at all, and raising him from the ground quickly, with one
+dexterous movement tripped him up, and sent him rolling on the pavement
+ten paces off, so violently that he was knocked senseless—the back of
+his neck coming in contact with a projecting stone—and lay apparently
+lifeless where he fell.
+
+So the way was cleared, and the victory in this fierce encounter was
+honourably gained by our hero and his two companions over the four
+sturdy ruffians, who had never been defeated before. They were in a
+sorry plight—Azolan and Basque creeping stealthily away, on their hands
+and knees, trying under cover of the darkness to put themselves beyond
+the reach of further danger; Labriche lying motionless, like a drunken
+man, across the gutter, and Mérindol, less badly hurt, flying towards
+home as fast as his legs could carry him. As he drew near the house,
+however, he slackened his pace, for he dreaded the duke’s anger more
+than Hérode’s club, and almost forgot, for the moment, the terrible
+agony from his dislocated shoulder, from which the arm hung down
+helpless and inert. Scarcely had he entered the outer door ere he was
+summoned to the presence of the duke, who was all impatient to learn
+the details of the tremendous thrashing that, he took it for granted,
+they had given to Captain Fracasse. When Mérindol was ushered in,
+frightened and embarrassed, trembling in every limb, not knowing what
+to say or do, and suffering fearfully from his injured shoulder, he
+paused at the threshold, and stood speechless and motionless, waiting
+breathlessly for a word or gesture of encouragement from the duke, who
+glared at him in silence.
+
+“Well,” at length said the Chevalier de Vidalinc to the discomfited
+Mérindol, seeing that Vallombreuse only stared at him savagely and did
+not seem inclined to speak, “what news do you bring us? Bad, I am sure,
+for you have by no means a triumphant air—very much the reverse,
+indeed, I should say.”
+
+“My lord, the duke, of course cannot doubt our zeal in striving to
+execute his orders, to the best of our ability,” said Mérindol,
+cringingly, “but this time we have had very bad luck.”
+
+“What do you mean by that?” asked the duke sharply, with an angry frown
+and flashing eyes, before which the stout ruffian quailed. “There were
+four of you! do you mean to tell me that, among you, you could not
+succeed in thrashing this miserable play-actor?”
+
+“That miserable play-actor, my lord,” Mérindol replied, plucking up a
+little courage, “far exceeds in vigour and bravery the great Hercules
+they tell us of. He fell upon us with such fury that in one instant he
+had knocked Azolan and Basque down into the gutter. They fell under his
+blows like pasteboard puppets—yet they are both strong men, and used to
+hard knocks. Labriche was tripped up and cleverly thrown by another
+actor, and fell with such force that he was completely stunned; the
+back of his head has found out that the stones of Poitiers pavements
+are harder than it is, poor fellow! As for me, my thick club was broken
+short off by an immense stick in the hands of that giant they call
+Hérode, and my shoulder so badly hurt that I sha’n’t have the use of my
+arm here for a fortnight.”
+
+“You are no better than so many calves, you pitiful, cowardly knaves!”
+cried the Duke of Vallombreuse, in a perfect frenzy of rage. “Why, any
+old woman could put you to rout with her distaff, and not half try. I
+made a horrid mistake when I rescued you from the galleys and the
+gallows, and took you into my service, believing that you were brave
+rascals, and not afraid of anything or anybody on the face of the
+globe. And now, answer me this: When you found that clubs would not do,
+why didn’t you whip out your swords and have at him?”
+
+“My lord had given us orders for a beating, not an assassination, and
+we would not have dared to go beyond his commands.”
+
+“Behold,” cried Vidalinc, laughing contemptuously, “behold a faithful,
+exact and conscientious scoundrel whose obedience does not deviate so
+much as a hair’s breadth from his lord’s commands. How delightful and
+refreshing to find such purity and fidelity, combined with such rare
+courage, in the character of a professional cut-throat! But now,
+Vallombreuse, what do you think of all this? This chase of yours opens
+well, and romantically, in a manner that must be immensely pleasing to
+you, since you find the pursuit agreeable in proportion to its
+difficulty, and the obstacles in the way constitute its greatest charms
+for you. I ought to congratulate you, it seems to me. This Isabelle,
+for an actress, is not easy of access; she dwells in a fortress,
+without drawbridge or other means of entrance, and guarded, as we read
+of in the history of ancient chivalry, by dragons breathing out flames
+of fire and smoke. But here comes our routed army.”
+
+Azolan, Basque, and Labriche, who had recovered from his swoon, now
+presented themselves reluctantly at the door, and stood extending their
+hands supplicatingly towards their master. They were a
+miserable-looking set of wretches enough—very pale, fairly livid
+indeed, haggard, dirty and blood-stained; for although they had only
+contused wounds, the force of the blows had set the blood flowing from
+their noses, and great red stains disfigured their hideous
+countenances.
+
+“Get to your kennel, ye hounds!” cried the duke, in a terrible voice,
+being moved only to anger by the sight of this forlorn group of
+supplicants. “I’m sure I don’t know why I have not ordered you all
+soundly thrashed for your imbecility and cowardice. I shall send you my
+surgeon to examine your wounds, and see whether the thumps you make
+such a babyish outcry about really were as violent and overpowering as
+you represent. If they were not, I will have you skinned alive, every
+mother’s son of you, like the eels at Melun; and now, begone! out of my
+sight, quick, you vile _canaille!_” The discomfited ruffians turned and
+fled, thankful to make their escape, and forgetful for the moment of
+their painful wounds and bruises; such abject terror did the young
+duke’s anger inspire in the breasts of those hardened villains. When
+the poor devils had disappeared, Vallombreuse threw himself down on a
+heap of cushions, piled up on a low, broad divan beside the fire, and
+fell into a revery that Vidalinc was careful not to break in upon. They
+evidently were not pleasant thoughts that occupied him; dark,
+tempestuous ones rather, judging by the expression of his handsome
+face, as he lay back idly among the soft pillows, looking very
+picturesque in the rich showy costume he still wore. He did not remain
+there long. Only a short time had elapsed when he suddenly started up,
+with a smothered imprecation, and bidding his friend an abrupt
+good-night, retired to his own chamber, without touching the dainty
+little supper that had just been brought in. Vidalinc sat down and
+enjoyed it by himself, with perfect good humour, thinking meanwhile of
+Serafina’s remarkable beauty and amiability, with which he was highly
+charmed, and not neglecting to drink her health in the duke’s choice
+wine ere he quitted the table, and, following his example, retired to
+his own room, where he slept soundly, dreaming of Serafina, until
+morning; while Vallombreuse, less fortunate, and still haunted by
+disturbing thoughts, tossed restlessly, and turned from side to side,
+courting sleep in vain, under the rich silken hangings drawn round his
+luxurious bed.
+
+When de Sigognac, the tyrant and Scapin reached the _Armes de France_,
+after having overcome the serious obstacles in their way, they found
+the others in a terrible state of alarm about them. In the stillness of
+the night they had distinctly heard the loud cries of the duke’s
+ruffians, and the noise of the fierce combat, and feared that their
+poor friends were being murdered. Isabelle, nearly frantic in her
+terror lest her lover should be overpowered and slain, tried to rush
+back to him, never remembering that she would be more of a hindrance
+than a help; but at the first step she had again almost fainted away,
+and would have fallen upon the rough pavement but for Blazius and
+Zerbine, who, each taking an arm, supported her between them the rest
+of the way to the hotel When they reached it at last, she refused to go
+to her own room, but waited with the others at the outer door for news
+of their comrades, fearing the worst, yet prayerfully striving to hope
+for the best. At sight of de Sigognac—who, alarmed at her extreme
+pallor, hastened anxiously to her side—she impetuously raised her arms
+to heaven, as a low cry of thanksgiving escaped her lips, and letting
+them fall around his neck, for one moment hid her streaming eyes
+against his shoulder; but quickly regaining her self-control, she
+withdrew herself gently from the detaining arm that had fondly
+encircled her slender, yielding form, and stepping back from him a
+little, resumed with a strong effort her usual reserve and quiet
+dignity.
+
+“And you are not wounded or hurt?” she asked, in her sweetest tones,
+her face glowing with happiness as she caught his reassuring gesture;
+he could not speak yet for emotion. The clasp of her arms round his
+neck had been like a glimpse of heaven to him a moment of divine
+ecstasy. “Ah! if he could only snatch her to his breast and hold her
+there forever,” he was thinking, “close to the heart that beat for her
+alone,” as she continued: “If the slightest harm had befallen you,
+because of me, I should have died of grief. But, oh! how imprudent you
+were, to defy that handsome, wicked duke, who has the assurance and the
+pride of Lucifer himself, for the sake of a poor, insignificant girl
+like me. You were not reasonable, de Sigognac! Now that you are a
+comedian, like the rest of us, you must learn to put up with certain
+impertinences and annoyances, without attempting to resent them.”
+
+“I never will,” said de Sigognac, finding his voice at last, “I swear
+it, I never will permit an affront to be offered to the adorable
+Isabelle in my presence even when I have on my player’s mask.”
+
+“Well spoken, captain,” cried Hérode, “well spoken, and bravely. I
+would not like to be the man to incur your wrath. By the powers above!
+what a fierce reception you gave those rascals yonder. It was lucky for
+them that poor Matamore’s sword had no edge. If it had been sharp and
+pointed, you would have cleft them from head to heels, clean in two, as
+the ancient knight-errants did the Saracens, and wicked enchanters.”
+
+“Your club did as much execution as my sword, Hérode, and your
+conscience need not reproach you, for they were not innocents that you
+slaughtered this time.”
+
+“No, indeed!” the tyrant rejoined, with a mighty laugh, “the flower of
+the galleys these—the cream of gallows-birds.”
+
+“Such jobs would scarcely be undertaken by any other class of fellows
+you know,” de Sigognac said; “but we must not neglect to make Scapin’s
+valiant deeds known, and praise them as they deserve. He fought and
+conquered without the aid of any other arms than those that nature gave
+him.”
+
+Scapin, who was a natural buffoon, acknowledged this encomium with a
+very low obeisance—his eyes cast down, his hand on his heart—and with
+such an irresistibly comical affectation of modesty and embarrassment
+that they all burst into a hearty laugh, which did them much good after
+the intense excitement and alarm.
+
+After this, as it was late, the comedians bade each other good-night,
+and retired to their respective rooms; excepting de Sigognac, who
+remained for a while in the court, walking slowly back and forth,
+cogitating deeply. The actor was avenged, but the gentleman was not.
+Must he then throw aside the mask that concealed his identity, proclaim
+his real name, make a commotion, and run the risk of drawing down upon
+his comrades the anger of a powerful nobleman? Prudence said no, but
+honour said yes. The baron could not resist its imperious voice, and
+the moment that he decided to obey it he directed his steps towards
+Zerbine’s room.
+
+He knocked gently at the door, which was opened cautiously, a very
+little way at first, by a servant, who instantly admitted the
+unexpected guest when he saw who it was.
+
+The large room was brilliantly lighted, with many rose-coloured wax
+candles in two handsome candelabra on a table covered with fine damask,
+on which smoked a dainty supper. Game and various other delicacies were
+there, most temptingly served. One crystal decanter, with sprigs of
+gold scattered over its shining surface, was filled with wine rivalling
+the ruby in depth and brilliancy of hue, while that in the other was
+clear and yellow as a topaz. Only two places had been laid on this
+festive board, and opposite Zerbine sat the Marquis de Bruyères, of
+whom de Sigognac was in search. The _soubrette_ welcomed him warmly,
+with a graceful mingling of the actress’s familiarity with her comrade
+with her respect for the gentleman.
+
+“It is very charming of you to come and join us here, in our cosy
+little nest,” said the marquis to de Sigognac, with much cordiality,
+“and we are right glad to welcome you. Jacques, lay a place for this
+gentleman—you will sup with us?”
+
+“I will accept your kind invitation,” de Sigognac replied; “but not for
+the sake of the supper. I do not wish to interfere with your enjoyment,
+and nothing is so disagreeable for those at table as a looker-on who is
+not eating with them.”
+
+The baron accordingly sat down in the arm-chair rolled up for him by
+the servant, beside Zerbine and opposite the marquis, who helped him to
+some of the partridge he had been carving, and filled his wine-glass
+for him; all without asking any questions as to what brought him there,
+or even hinting at it. But he felt sure that it must be something of
+importance that had caused the usually reserved and retiring young
+nobleman to take such a step as this.
+
+“Do you like this red wine best or the other?” asked the marquis. “As
+for me, I drink some of both, so that there may be no jealous feeling
+between them.”
+
+“I prefer the red wine, thank you,” de Sigognac said, with a smile,
+“and will add a little water to it. I am very temperate by nature and
+habit, and mingle a certain devotion to the nymphs with my worship at
+the shrine of Bacchus, as the ancients had it. But it was not for
+feasting and drinking that I was guilty of the indiscretion of
+intruding upon you at this unseemly hour. Marquis, I have come to ask
+of you a service that one gentleman never refuses to another. Mlle.
+Zerbine has probably related to you something of what took place in the
+green-room this evening. The Duke of Vallombreuse made an attempt to
+lay hands upon Isabelle, under pretext of placing an _mouche_ for her,
+and was guilty of an insolent, outrageous, and brutal action, unworthy
+of a gentleman, which was not justified by any coquetry or advances on
+the part of that young girl, who is as pure as she is modest and for
+whom I feel the highest respect and esteem.”
+
+“And she deserves it,” said Zerbine heartily, “every word you say of
+her, as I, who know her thoroughly, can testify. I could not say
+anything but good of her, even if I would.”
+
+“I seized the duke’s arm, and stopped him before he had succeeded in
+what he meant to do,” continued de Sigognac, after a grateful glance at
+the _soubrette;_ “he was furiously angry, and assailed me with threats
+and invectives, to which I replied with a mocking _sang-froid_, from
+behind my stage mask. He declared he would have me thrashed by his
+lackeys, and in effect, as I was coming back to this house, a little
+while ago, four ruffians fell upon me in the dark, narrow street. A
+couple of blows with the flat of my sword did for two of the rascals,
+while Hérode and Scapin put the other two hors-de-combat in fine style.
+Although the duke imagined that only a poor actor was concerned, yet as
+there is also a gentleman in that actor’s skin, such an outrage cannot
+be committed with impunity. _You_ know me, marquis, though up to the
+present moment you have kindly and delicately respected my incognito,
+for which I thank you. You know who and what my ancestors were, and can
+certify that the family of de Sigognac has been noble for more than a
+thousand years, and that not one who has borne the name has ever had a
+blot on his scutcheon.”
+
+“Baron de Sigognac,” said the marquis, addressing him for the first
+time by his own name, “I will bear witness, upon my honour, before
+whomsoever you may choose to name, to the antiquity and nobility of
+your family. Palamède de Sigognac distinguished himself by wonderful
+deeds of valour in the first crusade, to which he led a hundred lances,
+equipped, and transported thither, at his own expense. That was at an
+epoch when the ancestors of some of the proudest nobles of France
+to-day were not even squires. He and Hugues de Bruyères, my own
+ancestor, were warm friends, and slept in the same tent as brothers in
+arms.”
+
+At these glorious reminiscences de Sigognac raised his head proudly,
+and held it high; he felt the pure blood of his ancestors throbbing in
+his veins, and his heart beat tumultuously. Zerbine, who was watching
+him, was surprised at the strange inward beauty—if the expression may
+be allowed—that seemed to shine through the young baron’s ordinarily
+sad countenance, and illuminate it. “These nobles,” she said to
+herself, “are certainly a race by themselves; they look as if they had
+sprung from the side of Jupiter, not been born into the world like
+ordinary mortals. At the least word their pride is up in arms, and
+transforms them, as it does the Baron de Sigognac now. If he should
+make love to me, with eyes like those, I simply could not resist him; I
+should have to throw over my marquis. Why, he fairly glows with
+heroism; he is god-like.”
+
+Meantime de Sigognac, in blissful ignorance of this ardent admiration,
+which would have been so distasteful to him, was saying to the marquis,
+“Such being your opinion of my family, you will not, I fancy, object to
+carry a challenge from me to the Duke of Vallombreuse.”
+
+“Assuredly I will do it for you,” answered the marquis, in a grave,
+measured way, widely different from his habitual good-natured, easy
+carelessness of manner and speech; “and, moreover, I offer my own
+services as your second. To-morrow morning I will present myself at the
+duke’s house in your behalf; there is one thing to be said in his
+favour—that although he may be, in fact is, very insolent, he is no
+coward, and he will no longer intrench himself behind his dignity when
+he is made acquainted with your real rank. But enough of this subject
+for the present; I will see you to-morrow morning in good season, and
+we will not weary poor Zerbine any longer with our man’s talk of
+affairs of honour. I can plainly see that she is doing her best to
+suppress a yawn, and we would a great deal rather that a smile should
+part her pretty red lips, and disclose to us the rows of pearls within.
+Come, Zerbine, fill the Baron de Sigognac’s glass, and let us be merry
+again.”
+
+The _soubrette_ obeyed, and with as much grace and dexterity as if she
+had been Hebe in person; everything that she attempted to do she did
+well, this clever little actress.
+
+The conversation became animated, and did not touch upon any other
+grave subject, but was mainly about Zerbine’s own acting—the marquis
+overwhelming her with compliments upon it, in which de Sigognac could
+truthfully and sincerely join him, for the _soubrette_ had really shown
+incomparable spirit, grace, and talent. They also talked of the
+productions of M. de Scudéry—who was one of the most brilliant writers
+of the day—which the marquis declared that he considered perfect, but
+slightly soporific; adding that he, for his part, decidedly preferred
+the Rodomontades of Captain Fracasse to Lygdamon et Lydias—he was a
+gentleman of taste, the marquis!
+
+As soon as he could do so without an actual breach of politeness, de
+Sigognac took his leave, and retiring to his own chamber locked himself
+in; then took an ancient sword out of the woollen case in which he kept
+it to preserve it from rust—his father’s sword—which he had brought
+with him from home, as a faithful friend and ally. He drew it slowly
+out of the scabbard, kissing the hilt with fervent affection and
+respect as he did so, for to him it was sacred. It was a handsome
+weapon, richly, but not too profusely, ornamented—a sword for service,
+not for show; its blade of bluish steel, upon which a few delicate
+lines of gold were traced, bore the well-known mark of one of the most
+celebrated armourers of Toledo. The young baron examined the edge
+critically, drawing his fingers lightly over it, and then, resting the
+point against the door, bent it nearly double to test its elasticity.
+The noble blade stood the trial right valiantly, and there was no fear
+of its betraying its master in the hour of need. Delighted to have it
+in his hand again, and excited by the thought of what was in store for
+it and himself, de Sigognac began to fence vigorously against the wall,
+and to practise the various thrusts and passes that his faithful old
+Pierre, who was a famous swordsman, had taught him at Castle Misery.
+They had been in the habit of spending hours every day in these
+lessons, glad of some active occupation, and the exercise had developed
+the young baron’s frame, strengthened his muscles, and greatly
+augmented his natural suppleness and agility. He was passionately fond
+of and had thoroughly studied the noble art of fencing, and, while he
+believed himself to be still only a scholar, had long been a master in
+it—a proficient, such as is rarely to be found, even in the great
+cities. A better instructor than old Pierre he could not have had—not
+in Paris itself—and buried though he had been in the depths of the
+country, entirely isolated, and deprived of all the usual advantages
+enjoyed by young men of his rank, he yet had become, though perfectly
+unconscious of it, a match for the most celebrated swordsmen in
+France—that is to say, in the world—able to measure blades with the
+best of them. He may not have had all the elegant finish, and the many
+little airs and graces affected by the young sprigs of nobility and
+polished men of fashion in their sword-play, but skilful indeed must be
+the blade that could penetrate within the narrow circle of flashing
+steel in which he intrenched himself. Finding, after a long combat with
+an imaginary foe, that his hand had not lost its cunning, and satisfied
+at length both with himself and with his sword, which he placed near
+his bedside, de Sigognac was soon sleeping soundly, and as quietly as
+if he had never even dreamed of sending a challenge to that lofty and
+puissant nobleman, the Duke of Vallombreuse.
+
+Isabelle meanwhile could not close her eyes, because of her anxiety
+about the young baron. She knew that he would not allow the matter to
+rest where it was, and she dreaded inexpressibly the consequences of a
+quarrel with the duke; but the idea of endeavouring to prevent a duel
+never even occurred to her. In those days affairs of honour were
+regarded as sacred things, that women did not dream of interfering
+with, or rendering more trying to their near and dear ones by tears and
+lamentations, in anticipation of the danger to be incurred by them.
+
+At nine o’clock the next morning, the Marquis de Bruyères was astir,
+and went to look up de Sigognac, whom he found in his own room, in
+order to regulate with him the conditions of the duel. The baron asked
+him to take with him, in case of incredulity, or refusal of his
+challenge, on the duke’s part, the old deeds and ancient parchments, to
+which large seals were suspended, the commissions of various sorts with
+royal signatures in faded ink, the genealogical tree of the de
+Sigognacs, and in fact all his credentials, which he had brought away
+from the château with him as his most precious treasures; for they were
+indisputable witnesses to the nobility and antiquity of his house.
+These valuable documents, with their strange old Gothic characters,
+scarcely decipherable save by experts, were carefully wrapped up in a
+piece of faded crimson silk, which looked as if it might have been part
+of the very banner borne by Palamède de Sigognac at the head of his
+hundred followers in the first crusade.
+
+“I do not believe,” said the marquis, “that these credentials will be
+necessary; my word should be sufficient; it has never yet been doubted.
+However, as it is possible that this hot-headed young duke may persist
+in recognising only Captain Fracasse in your person, I will let my
+servant accompany me and carry them for me to his house, in case I
+should deem it best to produce them.”
+
+“You must do whatever you think proper and right,” de Sigognac
+answered; “I have implicit confidence in your judgment, and leave my
+honour in your hands, without a condition or reservation.”
+
+“It will be safe with me, I do solemnly assure you,” said the Marquis
+de Bruyères earnestly, “and we will have satisfaction yet from this
+proud young nobleman, whose excessive insolence and outrageously
+imperious ways are more than a little offensive to me, as well as to
+many others. He is no better than the rest of us, whose blood is as
+ancient and noble as his own, nor does his ducal coronet entitle him to
+the superiority he arrogates to himself so disagreeably. But we won’t
+talk any more about it—we must act now. Words are feminine, but actions
+are masculine, and offended honour can only be appeased with blood, as
+the old saying has it.”
+
+Whereupon the marquis called his servant, consigned the precious
+packet, with an admonition, to his care, and followed by him set off on
+his mission of defiance. The duke, who had passed a restless, wakeful
+night, and only fallen asleep towards morning, was not yet up when the
+Marquis de Bruyères, upon reaching his house, told the servant who
+admitted him to announce him immediately to his master. The valet was
+aghast at the enormity of this demand, which was expressed in rather a
+peremptory tone. What! disturb the duke! before he had called for him!
+it would be as much as his life was worth to do it; he would as soon
+venture unarmed into the cage of a furious lion, or the den of a royal
+tiger. The duke was always more or less surly and ill-tempered on first
+waking in the morning, even when he had gone to bed in a good humour,
+as his servants knew to their cost.
+
+“Your lordship had much better wait a little while, or call again later
+in the day,” said the valet persuasively, in answer to the marquis. “My
+lord, the duke, has not summoned me yet, and I would not dare—”
+
+“Go this instant to your master and announce the Marquis de Bruyères,”
+interrupted that gentleman, in loud, angry tones, “or I will force the
+door and admit myself to his presence. I _must_ speak to him, and that
+at once, on important business, in which your master’s honour is
+involved.”
+
+“Ah! that makes a difference,” said the servant, promptly, “why didn’t
+your lordship mention it in the first place? I will go and tell my
+lord, the duke, forthwith; he went to bed in such a furious,
+blood-thirsty mood last night that I am sure he will be enchanted at
+the prospect of a duel this morning—delighted to have a pretext for
+fighting.”
+
+And the man went off with a resolute air, after respectfully begging
+the marquis to be good enough to wait a few minutes. At the noise he
+made in opening the door of his master’s bedroom, though he endeavoured
+to do it as softly as possible, Vallombreuse, who was only dozing,
+started up in bed, broad awake, and looked round fiercely for something
+to throw at his head.
+
+“What the devil do you mean by this?” he cried savagely. “Haven’t I
+ordered you never to come in here until I called for you? You shall
+have a hundred lashes for this, you scoundrel, I promise you; and you
+needn’t whine and beg for mercy either, for you’ll get none from me.
+I’d like to know how I am to go to sleep again now?”
+
+“My lord may have his faithful servant lashed to death, if it so please
+his lordship,” answered the valet, with abject respect, “but though I
+have dared to transgress my lord’s orders, it is not without a good
+reason. His lordship, the Marquis de Bruyères, is below, asking to
+speak with my lord, the duke, on important business, relating to an
+affair of honour, and I know that my lord never denies himself to any
+gentleman on such occasions, but always receives visits of that sort,
+at any time of day or night.”
+
+“The Marquis de Bruyères!” said the duke, surprised, “have I any
+quarrel with him? I don’t recollect a difference between us ever; and
+besides, it’s an age since I’ve seen him. Perhaps he imagines that I
+want to steal his dear Zerbine’s heart away from him; lovers are always
+fancying that everybody else is enamoured of their own particular
+favourites. Here, Picard, give me my dressing-gown, and draw those
+curtains round the bed, so as to hide its disorder; make haste about
+it, do you hear? we must not keep the worthy marquis waiting another
+minute.”
+
+Picard bustled about, and brought to his master a magnificent
+dressing-gown-made, after the Venetian fashion, of rich stuff, with
+arabesques of black velvet on a gold ground—which he slipped on, and
+tied round the waist with a superb cord and tassels; then, seating
+himself in an easychair, told Picard to admit his early visitor.
+
+“Good morning, my dear marquis,” said the young duke smilingly, half
+rising to salute his guest as he entered. “I am very glad to see you,
+whatever your errand may be. Picard, a chair for his lordship! Excuse
+me, I pray you, for receiving you so unceremoniously here in my
+bedroom, which is still in disorder, and do not look upon it as a lack
+of civility, but rather as a mark of my regard for you. Picard said
+that you wished to see me immediately.”
+
+“I must beg you to pardon _me_, my dear duke,” the marquis hastened to
+reply, “for insisting so strenuously upon disturbing your repose, and
+cutting short perhaps some delicious dream; but I am charged to see you
+upon a mission, which, among gentlemen, will not brook delay.”
+
+“You excite my curiosity to the highest degree,” said Vallombreuse,
+“and I cannot even imagine what this urgent business may be about.”
+
+“I suppose it is not unlikely, my lord,” rejoined the marquis, “that
+you have forgotten certain occurrences that took place last evening.
+Such trifling matters are not apt to make a very deep impression, so
+with your permission I will recall them to your mind. In the so-called
+green-room, down at the tennis-court, you deigned to honour with your
+particular notice a young person, Isabelle by name, and with a
+playfulness that I, for my part, do not consider criminal, you
+endeavoured to place an _assassine_ for her, just above her white
+bosom, complimenting her upon its fairness as you did so. This
+proceeding, which I do not criticise, greatly shocked and incensed a
+certain actor standing by, called Captain Fracasse, who rushed forward
+and seized your arm.”
+
+“Marquis, you are the most faithful and conscientious of
+historiographers,” interrupted Vallombreuse. “That is all true, every
+word of it, and to finish the narrative I will add that I promised the
+rascal, who was as insolent as a noble, a sound thrashing at the hands
+of my lackeys; the most appropriate chastisement I could think of, for
+a low fellow of that sort.”
+
+“No one can blame you for that, my dear duke, for there is certainly no
+very great harm in having a play-actor—or writer either, for that
+matter—thoroughly thrashed, if he has had the presumption to offend,”
+said the marquis, with a contemptuous shrug; “such cattle are not worth
+the value of the sticks broken over their backs. But this is a
+different case altogether. Under the mask of Captain Fracasse—who, by
+the way, routed your ruffians in superb style—is the Baron de Sigognac;
+a nobleman of the old school, the head of one of the best families we
+have in Gascony; one that has been above reproach for many centuries.”
+
+“What the devil is he doing in this troupe of strolling players, pray?”
+asked the Duke of Vallombreuse, with some heat, toying nervously with
+the cord and tassels of his dressing-gown as he spoke. “Could I be
+expected to divine that there was a de Sigognac hidden under that
+grotesque costume, and behind that absurd false nose?”
+
+“As to your first question,” the marquis replied, “I can answer it in
+one word—Isabelle. Between ourselves, I believe that the young baron is
+desperately in love with her. Indeed, he makes no secret of that fact;
+and, not having been able to induce her to remain with him in his
+château, he has joined the troupe of which she is a member, in order to
+pursue his love affair. You certainly ought not to find this gallant
+proceeding in bad taste, since you also admire the fair object of his
+pursuit.”
+
+“No; I admit all that you say. But you, in your turn, must acknowledge
+that I could not be cognisant of this extraordinary romance by
+inspiration, and that the action of Captain Fracasse was impertinent.”
+
+“Impertinent for an actor, I grant you,” said the marquis, “but
+perfectly natural, indeed inevitable, for a gentleman, resenting
+unauthorized attentions to his mistress, and angry at an affront
+offered to her. Now Captain Fracasse throws aside his mask, and as
+Baron de Sigognac sends you by me his challenge to fight a duel, and
+demands redress in that way for the insult you have offered him.”
+
+“But who is to guarantee me that this pretended Baron de Sigognac, who
+actually appears on the stage before the public with a company of low
+buffoons as one of themselves, is not a vulgar, intriguing rascal,
+usurping an honourable name, in the hope of obtaining the honour of
+crossing swords with the Duke of Vallombreuse?”
+
+“Duke,” said the Marquis de Bruyères, with much dignity, and some
+severity of tone, “_I_ would not serve as second to any man who was not
+of noble birth, and of honourable character. I know the Baron de
+Sigognac well. His château is only a few leagues from my estate. _I_
+will be his guarantee. Besides, if you still persist in entertaining
+any doubts with regard to his real rank, I have here with me all the
+proofs necessary to convince you of his right to the ancient and
+distinguished name of Sigognac. Will you permit me to call in my
+servant, who is waiting in the antechamber? He will give you all those
+documents, for which I am personally responsible.”
+
+“There is no need,” Vallombreuse replied courteously; “your word is
+sufficient. I accept his challenge. My friend, the Chevalier de
+Vidalinc, who is my guest at present, will be my second; will you be
+good enough to consult with him as to the necessary arrangements? I
+will agree to anything you may propose—fight him when and where you
+please, and with any weapons he likes best; though I will confess that
+I should like to see whether the Baron de Sigognac can defend himself
+against a gentleman’s sword as successfully as Captain Fracasse did
+against my lackeys’ cudgels. The charming Isabelle shall crown the
+conqueror in this tournament, as the fair ladies crowned the victorious
+knights in the grand old days of chivalry. But now allow me to retire
+and finish my toilet. The Chevalier de Vidalinc will be with you
+directly. I kiss your hand, valiant marquis, as our Spanish neighbours
+say.”
+
+With these courteous words the Duke of Vallombreuse bowed with studied
+deference and politeness to his noble guest, and lifting the heavy
+_portière_ of tapestry that hung over the door opening into his
+dressing-room, passed through it and vanished. But a very few moments
+had elapsed when the Chevalier de Vidalinc joined the marquis, and they
+lost no time in coming to an understanding as to the conditions of the
+duel. As a matter of course, they selected swords—the gentleman’s
+natural weapon—and the meeting was fixed for the following morning,
+early; as de Sigognac, with his wonted consideration for his humble
+comrades, did not wish to fight that same day, and run the risk of
+interfering with the programme Hérode had announced for the evening, in
+case of his being killed or wounded. The rendezvous was at a certain
+spot in a field outside the walls of the town, which was level, smooth,
+well sheltered from observation, and advantageous in every way—being
+the favourite place of resort for such hostile meetings among the
+duellists of Poitiers.
+
+The Marquis de Bruyères returned straightway to the _Armes de France_,
+and rendered an account of the success of his mission to de Sigognac;
+who thanked him warmly for his services, and felt greatly relieved, now
+that he was assured of having the opportunity to resent, as a gentleman
+should do, the affront offered to his adored Isabelle.
+
+The representation was to begin very early that evening, and all day
+the town crier went about through the streets, beating his drum
+lustily, and, whenever he had gathered a curious crowd around him,
+stopping and announcing the “great attractions—offered for that evening
+by Hérode’s celebrated troupe.” Immense placards were posted upon the
+walls of the tennis-court and at the entrance of the _Armes de France_,
+also announcing, in huge, bright-coloured capitals, which reflected
+great credit on Scapin, who was the calligraphist of the troupe, the
+new play of “Lygdamon et Lydias,” and the Rodomontades of Captain
+Fracasse. Long before the hour designated an eager crowd had assembled
+in the street in front of the theatre, and when the doors were opened
+poured in, like a torrent that has burst its bounds, and threatened to
+sweep everything before them. Order was quickly restored, however,
+within, and “the nobility and gentry of Poitiers” soon began to arrive
+in rapid succession. Titled dames, in their sedan chairs, carried by
+liveried servants, alighted amid much bowing and flourishing of
+attendant gallants. Gentlemen from the environs came riding in,
+followed by mounted grooms who led away their masters’ horses or mules.
+Grand, clumsy old carriages, vast and roomy, with much tarnished
+gildings and many faded decorations about them, and with coats-of-arms
+emblazoned on their panels, rolled slowly up, and out of them, as out
+of Noah’s ark, issued all sorts of odd-looking pairs, and curious
+specimens of provincial grandeur; most of them resplendent in the
+strange fashions of a bygone day, yet apparently well satisfied with
+the elegance of their appearance. The house was literally packed, until
+there was not room left for another human being, be he never so
+slender. On each side of the stage was a row of arm-chairs, intended
+for distinguished spectators, according to the custom of the times, and
+there sat the young Duke of Vallombreuse, looking exceedingly handsome,
+in a very becoming suit of black velvet, elaborately trimmed with jet,
+and with a great deal of exquisite lace about it. Beside him was his
+faithful friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc, who wore a superb costume
+of dark green satin, richly ornamented with gold. As to the Marquis de
+Bruyères, he had not claimed his seat among the notables, but was
+snugly ensconced in his usual place—a retired corner near the
+orchestra—whence he could applaud his charming Zerbine to his heart’s
+content, without making himself too conspicuous. In the boxes were the
+fine ladies, in full dress, settling themselves to their satisfaction
+with much rustling of silks, fluttering of fans, whispering and
+laughing. Although their finery was rather old-fashioned, the general
+effect was exceedingly brilliant, and the display of magnificent
+jewels—family heirlooms—was fairly dazzling. Such flashing of superb
+diamonds on white bosoms and in dark tresses; such strings of large,
+lustrous pearls round fair necks, and twined amid sunny curls; such
+rubies and sapphires, with their radiant surroundings of brilliants;
+such thick, heavy chains of virgin gold, of curious and beautiful
+workmanship; such priceless laces, yellow with age, of just that
+much-desired tint which is creamy at night; such superb old brocades,
+stiff and rich enough to stand alone; and best of all, such sweet,
+sparkling, young faces, as were to be seen here and there in this
+aristocratic circle. A few of the ladies, not wishing to be known had
+kept on their little black velvet masks, though they did not prevent
+their being recognised, spoken of by name, and commented on with great
+freedom by the plebeian crowd in the pit. One lady, however, who was
+very carefully masked, and attended only by a maid, baffled the
+curiosity of all observers. She sat a little back in her box, so that
+the full blaze of light should not fall upon her, and a large black
+lace veil, which was loosely fastened under her chin, covered her head
+so effectually that it was impossible to make out even the colour of
+her hair. Her dress was rich and elegant in the extreme, but sombre in
+hue, and in her hand she held a handsome fan made of black feathers,
+with a tiny looking-glass in the centre. A great many curious glances
+were directed at her, which manifestly made her uneasy, and she shrank
+still farther back in her box to avoid them; but the orchestra soon
+struck up a merry tune, and attracted all eyes and thoughts to the
+curtain, which was about to rise, so that the mysterious fair one was
+left to her enjoyment of the animated scene in peace. They began with
+“Lygdamon et Lydias,” in which Leander, who played the principal part,
+and wore a most becoming new costume, was quite overwhelmingly
+handsome. His appearance was greeted by a murmur of admiration and a
+great whispering among the ladies, while one unsophisticated young
+creature, just emancipated from her convent-school, exclaimed
+rapturously, aloud, “Oh! how charming he is!” for which shocking
+indiscretion she received a severe reprimand from her horrified mama,
+that made her retire into the darkest corner of the box, covered with
+blushes and confusion. Yet the poor girl had only innocently given
+expression to the secret thought of every woman in the audience, her
+own dignified mother included; for, really, Leander was delightfully,
+irresistibly handsome as Lygdamon—a perfect Apollo, in the eyes of
+those provincial dames. But by far the most agitated of them all was
+the masked beauty; whose heaving bosom, trembling hand—betrayed by the
+fan it held—and eager attitude—leaning breathlessly forward and
+intently watching Leander’s every movement—would inevitably have borne
+witness to her great and absorbing interest in him, if anybody had been
+observing her to mark her emotion; but fortunately for her all eyes
+were turned upon the stage, so she had time to recover her composure.
+Leander was surpassing himself in his acting that night, yet even then
+he did not neglect to gaze searchingly round the circle of his fair
+admirers, trying to select the titled dames, and decide which one among
+them he should favour with his most languishing glances. As he
+scrutinized one after another, his eyes finally reached the masked
+lady, and at once his curiosity was on the _qui vive_—here was
+assuredly something promising at last; he was convinced that the richly
+dressed, graceful _incognita_ was a victim to his own irresistible
+charms, and he directed a long, eloquent, passionate look full at her,
+to indicate that she was understood. To his delight—his rapturous,
+ecstatic delight—she answered his appealing glance by a very slight
+bend of the head, which was full of significance, as if she would thank
+him for his penetration. Being thus happily brought _en rapport_,
+frequent glances were exchanged throughout the play, and even little
+signals also, between the hero on the stage and the lady in her box.
+
+Leander was an adept in that sort of thing, and could so modulate his
+voice and use his really fine eyes in making an impassioned declaration
+of love to the heroine of the play, that the fair object of his
+admiration in the audience would believe that it was addressed
+exclusively to herself. Inspired by this new flame, he acted with so
+much spirit and animation that he was rewarded with round after round
+of applause; which he had the art to make the masked lady understand he
+valued less than the faintest mark of approbation and favour from her.
+
+After “Lygdamon et Lydias” came the Rodomontades of Captain Fracasse,
+which met with its accustomed success. Isabelle was rendered very
+uneasy by the close proximity of the Duke of Vallombreuse, dreading
+some act of insolence on his part; but her fears were needless, for he
+studiously refrained from annoying her in any way—even by staring at
+her too fixedly. He was moderate in his applause, and quietly
+attentive, as he sat in a careless attitude in his arm-chair on the
+stage throughout the piece. His lip curled scornfully sometimes when
+Captain Fracasse was receiving the shower of blows and abuse that fell
+to his share, and his whole countenance was expressive of the most
+lofty disdain, but that was all; for though violent and impetuous by
+nature, the young duke was too much of a gentleman—once his first fury
+passed—to transgress the rules of courtesy in any way; and more
+especially towards an adversary with whom he was to fight on the
+morrow—until then hostilities were suspended, and he religiously
+observed the truce.
+
+The masked lady quietly withdrew a little before the end of the second
+piece, in order to avoid mingling with the crowd, and also to be able
+to regain her chair, which awaited her close at hand, unobserved; her
+disappearance mightily disturbed Leander, who was furtively watching
+the movements of the mysterious unknown. The moment he was free, almost
+before the curtain had fallen, he threw a large cloak around him to
+conceal his theatrical costume, and rushed towards the outer door in
+pursuit of her. The slender thread that bound them together would be
+broken past mending he feared if he did not find her, and it would be
+too horrible to lose sight of this radiant creature—as he styled her to
+himself—before he had been able to profit by the pronounced marks of
+favour she had bestowed upon him so lavishly during the evening. But
+when he reached the street, all out of breath from his frantic efforts
+in dashing through the crowd, and bustling people right and left
+regardless of everything but the object he had in view, there was
+nothing to be seen of her; she had vanished, and left not a trace
+behind. Leander reproached himself bitterly with his own folly in not
+having endeavoured to exchange a few words with his lost divinity in
+the brief interval between the two plays, and called himself every hard
+name he could think of; as we are all apt to do in moments of vexation.
+
+But while he still stood gazing disconsolately in the direction that
+she must have taken, a little page, dressed in a dark brown livery, and
+with his cap pulled down over his eyes, suddenly appeared beside him,
+and accosted him politely in a high childish treble, which he vainly
+strove to render more manly. “Are you M. Leander? the one who played
+Lygdamon a while ago?”
+
+“Yes, I am,” answered Leander, amused at the pretentious airs of his
+small interlocutor, “and pray what can I do for you, my little man?”
+
+“Oh! nothing for me, thank you,” said the page, with a significant
+smile, “only I am charged to deliver a message to you—if you are
+disposed to hear it—from the lady of the mask.”
+
+“From the lady of the mask!” cried Leander. “Oh I tell me quickly what
+it is; I am dying to hear it.”
+
+“Well, here it is, then, word for word,” said the tiny page jauntily.
+“If Lygdamon is as brave as he is gallant, he will go at midnight to
+the open square in front of the church, where he will find a carriage
+awaiting him; he will enter it without question, as without fear, and
+go whither it will take him.”
+
+Before the astonished Leander had time to answer, the page had
+disappeared in the crowd, leaving him in great perplexity, for if his
+heart beat high with joy at the idea of a romantic adventure, his
+shoulders still reminded him painfully of the beating he had received
+in a certain park at dead of night, and he remembered with a groan how
+he had been lured on to his own undoing. Was this another snare spread
+for him by some envious wretch who begrudged him his brilliant success
+that evening, and was jealous of the marked favour he had found in the
+eyes of the fair ladies of Poitiers? Should he encounter some furious
+husband at the rendezvous, sword in hand, ready to fall upon him and
+run him through the body? These thoughts chilled his ardour, and had
+nearly caused him to disregard entirely the page’s mysterious message.
+Yet, if he did not profit by this tempting opportunity, which looked so
+promising, he might make a terrible mistake; and, if he failed to go,
+would not the lady of the mask suspect him of cowardice, and be
+justified in so doing? This thought was insupportable to the gallant
+Leander, and he decided to venture, though low be it spoken—in fear and
+trembling. He hastened back to the hotel, scarcely touched the
+substantial supper provided for the comedians—his appetite lost in his
+intense excitement—and retiring to his own chamber made an elaborate
+toilet; curling and perfuming his hair and mustache, and sparing no
+pains to make himself acceptable to the lovely lady of the mask. He
+armed himself with a dagger and a sword, though he did not know how to
+use either; but he thought that the mere sight of them might inspire
+awe.
+
+When he was all ready at last, he drew his broad felt hat well down
+over his eyes, threw the corner of his cloak over his shoulder, in
+Spanish fashion, so as to conceal the lower part of his face, and crept
+stealthily out of the hotel—for once being lucky enough to escape the
+observation of his wily tormentor, Scapin, who was at that moment
+snoring his loudest in his own room at the other end of the house.
+
+The streets had long been empty and deserted, for the good people of
+the ancient and respectable town of Poitiers go early to bed. Leander
+did not meet a living creature, excepting a few forlorn, homeless cats,
+prowling about and bewailing themselves in a melancholy way, that fled
+before him, and vanished round dark corners or in shadowy doorways. Our
+gallant reached the open square designated by the little page just as
+the last stroke of twelve was vibrating in the still night air. It gave
+him a shudder; a superstitious sensation of horror took possession of
+him, and he felt as if he had heard the tolling of his own funeral
+bell. For an instant he was on the point of rushing back, and seeking
+quiet, safe repose in his comfortable bed at the _Armes de France_, but
+was arrested by the sight of the carriage standing there waiting for
+him, with the tiny page himself in attendance, perched on the step and
+holding the door open for him. So he was obliged to go on—for few
+people in this strange world of ours have the courage to be cowardly
+before witnesses—and instinctively acting a part, he advanced with a
+deliberate and dignified bearing, that gave no evidence of the inward
+fear and agitation that had set his heart beating as if it would burst
+out of his breast, and sent strong shivers over him from his head to
+his feet. Scarcely had he taken his seat in the carriage when the
+coachman touched his horses with the whip, and they were off at a good
+round pace; while he was in utter darkness, and did not even know which
+way they went, as the leathern curtains were carefully drawn down, so
+that nothing could be seen from within, or without. The small page
+remained at his post on the carriage step, but spoke never a word, and
+Leander could not with decency question him, much as he would have
+liked to do so. He knew that his surroundings were luxurious, for his
+exploring fingers told him that the soft, yielding cushions, upon which
+he was resting, were covered with velvet, and his feet sank into a
+thick, rich rug, while the vague, delicious perfume, that seemed to
+surround and caress him, soothed his ruffled feelings, and filled his
+mind with rapturous visions of bliss. He tried in vain to divine who it
+could be that had sent to fetch him in this delightfully mysterious
+way, and became more curious than ever, and also rather uneasy again,
+when he felt that the carriage had quitted the paved streets of the
+town, and was rolling smoothly and rapidly along over a country road.
+At last it stopped, the little page jumped down and flung the door wide
+open, and Leander, alighting, found himself confronted by a high, dark
+wall, which seemed to inclose a park, or garden; but he did not
+perceive a wooden door close at hand until his small companion, pushing
+back a rusty bolt, proceeded to open it, with considerable difficulty,
+and admitted him into what was apparently a thick wood.
+
+“Take hold of my hand,” said the page patronizingly to Leander, “so
+that I can guide you; it is too dark for you to be able to make out the
+path through this labyrinth of trees.”
+
+Leander obeyed, and both walked cautiously forward, feeling their way
+as they wound in and out among the trees, and treading the crackling,
+dry leaves, strewn thickly upon the ground, under their feet. Emerging
+from the wood at last, they came upon a garden, laid out in the usual
+style, with rows of box bordering the angular flower beds, and with yew
+trees, cut into pyramids, at regular intervals; which, just perceptible
+in the darkness, looked like sentinels posted on their way—a shocking
+sight for the poor timid actor, who trembled in every limb. They passed
+them all, however, unchallenged, and ascended some stone steps leading
+up to a terrace, on which stood a small country house—a sort of
+pavilion, with a dome, and little turrets at the corners. The place
+seemed quite deserted, save for a subdued glimmer of light from one
+large window, which the thick crimson silk curtains within could not
+entirely conceal. At this reassuring sight Leander dismissed all fear
+from his mind, and gave himself up to the most blissful anticipations.
+He was in a seventh heaven of delight; his feet seemed to spurn the
+earth; he would have flown into the presence of the waiting angel
+within if he had but known the way. How he wished, in this moment of
+glory and triumph, that Scapin, his mortal enemy and merciless
+tormentor, could see him. The tiny page stepped on before him, and
+after opening a large glass door and showing him into a spacious
+apartment, furnished with great luxury and elegance, retired and left
+him alone, without a word. The vaulted ceiling—which was the interior
+of the dome seen from without—was painted to represent a light blue
+sky, in which small rosy clouds were floating, and bewitching little
+Loves flying about in all sorts of graceful attitudes, while the walls
+were hung with beautiful tapestry. The cabinets, inlaid with exquisite
+Florentine mosaics and filled with many rare and curious objects of
+virtu, the round table covered with a superb Turkish cloth, the large,
+luxurious easy-chairs, the vases of priceless porcelain filled with
+fragrant flowers, all testified to the wealth and fastidious taste of
+their owner. The richly gilded candelabra, of many branches, holding
+clusters of wax candles, which shed their soft, mellow light on all
+this magnificence, were upheld by sculptured arms and hands in black
+marble, to represent a negro’s, issuing from fantastic white marble
+sleeves; as if the sable attendants were standing without the room, and
+had passed their arms through apertures in the wall.
+
+Leander, dazzled by so much splendour, did not at first perceive that
+there was no one awaiting him in this beautiful apartment, but when he
+had recovered from his first feeling of astonishment, and realized that
+he was alone, he proceeded to take off his cloak and lay it, with his
+hat and sword, on a chair in one corner, after which he deliberately
+rearranged his luxuriant ringlets in front of a Venetian mirror, and
+then, assuming his most graceful and telling pose, began pouring forth
+in dulcet tones the following monologue: “But where, oh! where, is the
+divinity of this Paradise? Here is the temple indeed, but I see not the
+goddess. When, oh! when, will she deign to emerge from the cloud that
+veils her perfect form, and reveal herself to the adoring eyes, that
+wait so impatiently to behold her?” rolling the said organs of vision
+about in the most effective manner by way of illustration.
+
+Just at that moment, as if in response to this eloquent appeal, the
+crimson silk hanging, which fell in front of a door that Leander had
+not noticed, was pushed aside, and the lady he had come to seek stood
+before him; with the little black velvet mask still over her face, to
+the great disappointment and discomfiture of her expectant suitor. “Can
+it be possible that she is ugly?” he thought to himself; “this
+obstinate clinging to the mask alarms me.” But his uncertainty was of
+short duration, for the lady, advancing to the centre of the room,
+where Leander stood respectfully awaiting her pleasure, untied the
+strings of the mask, took it off, and threw it down on the table,
+disclosing a rather pretty face, with tolerably regular features,
+large, brilliant, brown eyes, and smiling red lips. Her rich masses of
+dark hair were elaborately dressed, with one long curl hanging down
+upon her neck, and enhancing its whiteness by contrast; the uncovered
+shoulders were plump and shapely, and the full, snowy bosom rose and
+fell tumultuously under the cloud of beautifully fine lace that veiled,
+not concealed, its voluptuous curves.
+
+“Mme. la Marquise de Bruyères!” cried Leander, astonished to the
+highest degree, and not a little agitated, as the remembrance of his
+last, and first, attempt to meet her, and what he had found in her
+place, rushed back upon him; “can it be possible? am I dreaming? or may
+I dare to believe in such unhoped-for, transcendent happiness?”
+
+“Yes; you are not mistaken, my dear friend,” said she, “I am indeed the
+Marquise de Bruyères, and recognised, I trust, by your heart as well as
+your eyes.”
+
+“Ah! but too well,” Leander replied, in thrilling tones. “Your adored
+image is cherished there, traced in living lines of light; I have only
+to look into that devoted, faithful heart, to see and worship your
+beauteous form, endowed with every earthly grace, and radiant with
+every heavenly perfection.”
+
+“I thank you,” said the _marquise_, “for having retained such a kind
+and tender remembrance of me; it proves that yours is a noble,
+magnanimous soul. You had every reason to think me cruel, ungrateful,
+false—when, alas! my poor heart in reality is but too susceptible, and
+I was far from being insensible to the passionate admiration you so
+gracefully testified for me. Your letter addressed to me did not reach
+my hands, but unfortunately fell into those of the marquis—through the
+heartless treachery of the faithless maid to whom it was intrusted—and
+he sent you the answer which so cruelly deceived you, my poor Leander!
+Some time after he showed me that letter, laughing heartily over what
+he was wicked enough to call a capital joke; that letter, in every line
+of which the purest, most impassioned love shone so brightly, and
+filled my heart with joy, despite his ridicule and coarse abuse. It did
+not produce the effect upon me that he expected and intended; the
+sentiment I cherished secretly for you was only increased and
+strengthened by its persuasive eloquence, and I resolved to reward you
+for all that you had suffered for my sake. Knowing my husband to be
+perfectly absorbed in his most recent conquest, and so oblivious of me
+that there was no danger of his becoming aware of my absence from the
+Château de Bruyères, I have ventured to come to Poitiers; for I have
+heard you express fictitious love so admirably, that I long to know
+whether you can be as eloquent and convincing when you speak for
+yourself.”
+
+“Mme. la Marquise,” said Leander, in his sweetest tones, sinking
+gracefully on his knees, upon a cushion at the feet of the lady, who
+had let herself fall languidly into a low easy-chair, as if exhausted
+by the extreme effort that her confession had been to her modesty.
+“Madame, or rather most lovely queen and deity, what can mere empty
+words, counterfeit passion, imaginary raptures, conceived and written
+in cold blood by the poets, and make-believe sighs, breathed out at the
+feet of an odious actress, all powdered and painted, whose eyes are
+wandering absently around the theatre—what can these be beside the
+living words that gush out from the soul, the fire that burns in the
+veins and arteries, the hyperboles of an exalted passion, to which the
+whole universe cannot furnish images brilliant and lofty enough to
+apply to its idol, and the aspirations of a wildly loving heart, that
+would fain break forth from the breast that contains it, to serve as a
+footstool for the dear object of its adoration? You deign to say,
+celestial _marquise_, that I express with some feeling the fictitious
+love in the pieces I play. Shall I tell you why it is so? Because I
+never look at, or even think of, the actress whom I seem to address—my
+thoughts soar far above and beyond her—and I speak to my own perfect
+ideal; to a being, noble, beautiful, _spirituelle_ as yourself, Mme. la
+Marquise! It is you, in fine, _you_ that I see and love under the name
+of Silvie, Doralice, Isabelle, or whatever it may chance to be; they
+are only your phantoms for me.”
+
+With these words Leander, who was too good an actor to neglect the
+pantomime that should accompany such a declaration, bent down over the
+hand that the _marquise_ had allowed him to take, and covered it with
+burning kisses; which delicate attention was amiably received, and his
+real love-making seemed to be as pleasing to her ladyship as even he
+could have desired.
+
+The eastern sky was all aflame with the radiance of the coming sun when
+Leander, well wrapped in his warm cloak, was driven back to Poitiers.
+As he lifted a corner of one of the carefully lowered curtains, to see
+which side of the town they were approaching, he caught sight of the
+Marquis de Bruyères and the Baron de Sigognac, still at some distance,
+who were walking briskly along the road towards him, on their way to
+the spot designated for the duel.
+
+Leander let the curtain drop, so as not to be seen by the marquis, who
+was almost grazed by the carriage wheels as they rolled by him, and a
+satisfied smile played round his lips; he was revenged—the beating was
+atoned for now.
+
+The place selected for the hostile meeting between the Baron de
+Sigognac and the Duke of Vallombreuse was sheltered from the cold north
+wind by a high wall, which also screened the combatants from the
+observation of those passing along the road. The ground was firm, well
+trodden down, without stones, tufts of grass, or inequalities of any
+kind, which might be in the way of the swordsmen, and offered every
+facility to men of honour to murder each other after the most correct
+and approved fashion. The Duke of Vallombreuse and the Chevalier de
+Vidalinc, followed by a surgeon, arrived at the rendezvous only a few
+seconds after the others, and the four gentlemen saluted each other
+with the haughty courtesy and frigid politeness becoming to well-bred
+men meeting for such a purpose. The duke’s countenance was expressive
+of the most careless indifference, as he felt perfect confidence in his
+own courage and skill. The baron was equally cool and collected, though
+it was his first duel, and a little nervousness or agitation would have
+been natural and excusable. The Marquis de Bruyères watched him with
+great satisfaction, auguring good things for their side from his quiet
+_sang-froid_. Vallombreuse immediately threw off his cloak and hat, and
+unfastened his _pourpoint_, in which he was closely imitated by de
+Sigognac. The marquis and the chevalier measured the swords of the
+combatants, which were found to be of equal length, and then each
+second placed his principal in position, and put his sword in his hand.
+
+“Fall to, gentlemen, and fight like men of spirit, as you are,” said
+the marquis.
+
+“A needless recommendation that,” chimed in the Chevalier de Vidalinc;
+“they go at it like lions—-we shall have a superb duel.”
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse, who, in his inmost heart, could not help
+despising de Sigognac more than a little, and had imagined that he
+should find in him but a weak antagonist, was astonished when he
+discovered the strength of the baron’s sword, and could not deny to
+himself that he wielded a firm and supple blade, which baffled his own
+with the greatest ease—that he was, in fine, a “foeman worthy of his
+steel.” He became more careful and attentive; then tried several
+feints, which were instantly detected. At the least opening he left,
+the point of de Sigognac’s sword, rapid as lightning in its play,
+darted in upon him, necessitating the exercise of all his boasted skill
+to parry it. He ventured an attack, which was so promptly met, and his
+weapon so cleverly struck aside, that he was left exposed to his
+adversary’s thrust, and but for throwing himself back out of reach, by
+a sudden, violent movement, he must have received it full in his
+breast. From that instant all was changed for the young duke; he had
+believed that he would be able to direct the combat according to his
+own will and pleasure, but, instead of that, he was forced to make use
+of all his skill and address to defend himself. He had believed that
+after a few passes he could wound de Sigognac, wherever he chose, by a
+thrust which, up to that time, he had always found successful; but,
+instead of that, he had hard work to avoid being wounded himself.
+Despite his efforts to remain calm and cool, he was rapidly growing
+angry; he felt himself becoming nervous and feverish, while the baron,
+perfectly at his ease and unmoved, seemed to take a certain pleasure in
+irritating him by the irreproachable excellence of his fence.
+
+“Sha’n’t we do something in this way too, while our friends are
+occupied?” said the chevalier to the marquis.
+
+“It is very cold this morning. Suppose we fight a little also, if only
+to warm ourselves up, and set our blood in motion.”
+
+“With all my heart,” the marquis replied; “we could not do better.”
+
+The chevalier was superior to the Marquis de Bruyères in the noble art
+of fencing, and after a few passes had sent the latter’s sword flying
+out of his hand. As no enmity existed between them, they stopped there
+by mutual consent, and turned their attention again to de Sigognac and
+Vallombreuse. The duke, sore pressed by the close play of the baron,
+had fallen back several feet from his original position. He was
+becoming weary, and beginning to draw panting breaths. From time to
+time, as their swords clashed violently together, bluish sparks flew
+from them; but the defence was growing perceptibly weaker, and de
+Sigognac was steadily forcing the duke to give way before his attack.
+When he saw the state of affairs, the Chevalier de Vidalinc turned very
+pale, and began to feel really anxious for his friend, who was so
+evidently getting the worst of it.
+
+“Why the devil doesn’t he try that wonderful thrust he learned from
+Girolamo of Naples?” murmured he. “This confounded Gascon cannot
+possibly know anything about that.”
+
+As if inspired by the same thought, the young duke did, at that very
+moment, try to put it into execution; but de Sigognac, aware of what he
+was preparing to do, not only prevented but anticipated him, and
+touched and wounded his adversary in the arm—his sword going clean
+through it.
+
+The pain was so intense that the duke’s fingers could no longer grasp
+his sword, and it fell to the ground. The baron, with the utmost
+courtesy, instantly desisted, although he was entitled by the rules of
+the code to follow up his blow with another—for the duel does not
+necessarily come to an end with the first blood drawn. He turned the
+point of his sword to the ground, put his left hand on his hip, and
+stood silently awaiting his antagonist’s pleasure. But Vallombreuse
+could not hold the sword which his second had picked up and presented
+to him, after a nod of acquiescence from de Sigognac; and he turned
+away to signify that he had had enough. Whereupon, the marquis and the
+baron, after bowing politely to the others, set forth quietly to walk
+back to the town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE
+
+
+After the surgeon had bandaged his injured arm, and arranged a sling
+for it, the Duke of Vallombreuse was put carefully into a chair, which
+had been sent for in all haste, to be taken home. His wound was not in
+the least a dangerous one, though it would deprive him of the use of
+his right hand for some time to come, for the blade had gone quite
+through the forearm; but, most fortunately, without severing any
+important tendons or arteries. He suffered a great deal of pain from it
+of course, but still more from his wounded pride; and he felt furiously
+and unreasonably angry with everything and everybody about him. It
+seemed to be somewhat of a relief to him to swear savagely at his
+bearers, and call them all the hardest names he could think of,
+whenever he felt the slightest jar, as they carried him slowly towards
+home, though they were walking as steadily as men could do, and
+carefully avoiding every inequality in the road. When at last he
+reached his own house, he was not willing to be put to bed, as the
+surgeon advised, but lay down upon a lounge instead, where he was made
+as comfortable as was possible by his faithful Picard, who was in
+despair at seeing the young duke in such a condition; astonished as
+well, for nothing of the kind had ever happened before, in all the many
+duels he had fought; and the admiring valet had shared his master’s
+belief that he was invincible. The Chevalier de Vidalinc sat in a low
+chair beside his friend, and gave him from time to time a spoonful of
+the tonic prescribed by the surgeon, but refrained from breaking the
+silence into which he had fallen. Vallombreuse lay perfectly still for
+a while; but it was easy to see, in spite of his affected calmness,
+that his blood was boiling with suppressed rage. At last he could
+restrain himself no longer, and burst out violently: “Oh! Vidalinc,
+this is too outrageously aggravating! to think that that contemptible,
+lean stork, who has flown forth from his ruined château so as not to
+die of starvation in it, should have dared to stick his long bill into
+me! I have encountered, and conquered, the best swordsmen in France,
+and never returned from the field before with so much as a scratch, or
+without leaving my adversary stretched lifeless on the ground, or
+wounded and bleeding in the arms of his friends.”
+
+“But you must remember that the most favoured and the bravest of
+mortals have their unlucky days, Vallombreuse,” answered the chevalier
+sententiously, “and Dame Fortune does not _always_ smile, even upon her
+prime favourites. Until now you have never had to complain of her
+frowns, for you have been her pampered darling all your life long.”
+
+“Isn’t it too disgraceful,” continued Vallombreuse, growing more and
+more heated, “that this ridiculous buffoon—this grotesque country
+clown—who takes such abominable drubbings on the stage, and has never
+in his life known what it was to associate with gentlemen, should have
+managed to get the best of the Duke of Vallombreuse, hitherto by common
+accord pronounced invincible? He must be a professional prize-fighter,
+disguised as a strolling mountebank.”
+
+“There can be no doubt about his real rank,” said Vidalinc, “for the
+Marquis de Bruyères guarantees it; but I must confess that his
+unequalled performance to-day filled me with astonishment; it was
+simply marvellous. Neither Girolamo nor Paraguante, those two
+world-renowned swordsmen, could have surpassed it. I watched him
+closely, and I tell you that even they could not have withstood him. It
+took all your remarkable skill—which has been so greatly enhanced by
+the Neapolitan’s instructions—to avoid being mortally wounded; why your
+defeat was a victory in my eyes, in that it was not a more overwhelming
+one.”
+
+“I don’t know how I am to wait for this wound to heal,” the duke said,
+after a short pause, “I am so impatient to provoke him again, and have
+the opportunity to revenge myself.”
+
+“That would be a very hazardous proceeding, and one that I should
+strongly advise you not to attempt,” Vidalinc replied in an earnest
+tone. “Your sword-arm will scarcely be as strong as before for a long
+time I fear, and that would seriously diminish your chances of success.
+This Baron de Sigognac is a very formidable antagonist, and will be
+still more so, for you, now that he knows your tactics; and besides,
+the confidence in himself which his first victory naturally gives him
+would be another thing in his favour. Honour is satisfied, and the
+encounter was a serious one for you. Let the matter rest here, I
+beseech you!”
+
+Vallombreuse could not help being secretly convinced of the justice of
+these remarks, but was not willing to avow it openly, even to his most
+intimate friend. He was a sufficiently accomplished swordsman himself
+to appreciate de Sigognac’s wonderful prowess, and he knew that it far
+surpassed his own much vaunted skill, though it enraged him to have to
+recognise this humiliating fact. He was even obliged to acknowledge, in
+his inmost heart, that he owed his life to the generous forbearance of
+his hated enemy; who might have taken it just as well as not, but had
+spared him, and been content with giving him only a flesh wound, just
+severe enough to put him hors-de-combat, without doing him any serious
+injury. This magnanimous conduct, by which a less haughty nature would
+have been deeply touched, only served to irritate the young duke’s
+pride, and increase his resentment. To think that he, the valiant and
+puissant Duke of Vallombreuse, had been conquered, humiliated, wounded!
+the bare idea made him frantic. Although he said nothing further to his
+companion about his revenge, his mind was filled with fierce projects
+whereby to obtain it, and he swore to himself to be even yet with the
+author of his present mortification—if not in one way, then in another;
+for injuries there be that are far worse than mere physical wounds and
+hurts.
+
+“I shall cut a sorry figure enough now in the eyes of the fair
+Isabelle,” said he at last, with a forced laugh, “with my arm here run
+through and rendered useless by the sword of her devoted gallant.
+Cupid, weak and disabled, never did find much favour with the Graces,
+you know. But oh! how charming and adorable she seems to me, this
+sweet, disdainful Isabelle! I am actually almost grateful to her for
+resisting me so; for, if she had yielded, I should have been tired of
+her by this time, I fancy. Her nature certainly cannot be a base,
+ordinary one, or she would never have refused thus the advances of a
+wealthy and powerful nobleman, who is ready to lavish upon her
+everything that heart could desire, and whose own personal attractions
+are not to be despised; if the universal verdict of the fair sex of all
+ranks can be relied upon. There is a certain respect and esteem mingled
+with my passionate admiration for her, that I have never felt before
+for any woman, and it is very sweet to me. But how in the world are we
+to get rid of this confounded young sprig of nobility, her
+self-constituted champion? May the devil fly away with him!”
+
+“It will not be an easy matter,” the chevalier replied, and especially
+now that he is upon his guard. “But even if you did succeed in getting
+rid of him, Isabelle’s love for him would still be in your way, and you
+ought to know, better than most men, how obstinate a woman can be in
+her devoted attachment to a man.”
+
+“Oh! if I could only kill this miserable baron,” continued
+Vallombreuse, not at all impressed by the chevalier’s last remark, “I
+could soon win the favour of this virtuous young person, in spite of
+all her little prudish airs and graces. Nothing is so quickly forgotten
+as a defunct suitor.”
+
+These were by no means the chevalier’s sentiments, but he refrained
+from pursuing the subject then, wishing to soothe, rather than
+irritate, his suffering friend.
+
+“You must first get well as fast as you can,” he said, “and it will be
+time enough then for us to discuss the matter. All this talking wearies
+you, and does you no good. Try to get a little nap now, and not excite
+yourself so. The surgeon will tax me with imprudence, and call me a bad
+nurse, I’m afraid, if I don’t manage to keep you more quiet—mentally as
+well as physically.”
+
+His patient, yielding with rather an ill grace to this sensible advice,
+sank back wearily upon his pillows, closed his eyes, and soon fell
+asleep—where we will leave him, enjoying his much needed repose.
+
+Meantime the Marquis de Bruyères and de Sigognac had quietly returned
+to their hotel, where, like well-bred gentlemen, they did not breathe
+even a hint of what had taken place. But walls have ears they say, and
+eyes as well it would appear, for they certainly see as much as they
+ever hear. In the neighbourhood of the apparently solitary, deserted
+spot where the duel had taken place, more than one inquisitive, hidden
+observer had closely watched the progress of the combat, and had not
+lost a moment after it was over in spreading the news of it; so that by
+breakfast-time all Poitiers was in a flutter of excitement over the
+intelligence that the Duke of Vallombreuse had been wounded in a duel
+with an unknown adversary, and was exhausting itself in vain
+conjectures as to who the valiant stranger could possibly be. No one
+thought of de Sigognac, who had led the most retired life imaginable
+ever since his arrival; remaining quietly at the hotel all day, and
+showing only his stage mask, not his own face, at the theatre in the
+evening.
+
+Several gentlemen of his acquaintance sent to inquire ceremoniously
+after the Duke of Vallombreuse, giving their messengers instructions to
+endeavour to get some information from his servants about the
+mysterious duel, but they were as taciturn as the mutes of a seraglio,
+for the very excellent and sufficient reason that they knew nothing
+what ever about it. The young duke, by his great wealth, his
+overweening pride, his uncommon good looks, and his triumphant success
+among fair ladies everywhere, habitually excited much secret jealousy
+and hatred among his associates, which not one of them dared to
+manifest openly—but they were mightily pleased by his present
+discomfiture.
+
+It was the first check he had ever experienced, and all those who had
+been hurt or offended by his arrogance—and they were legion—now
+rejoiced in his mortification. They could not say enough in praise of
+his successful antagonist, though they had never seen him, nor had any
+idea as to what manner of man he might be. The ladies, who nearly all
+had some cause of complaint against the haughty young noble man, as he
+was wont to boast loudly of his triumphs, and basely betray the favours
+that had been accorded to him in secret, were full of enthusiastic and
+tender admiration for this victorious champion of a woman’s virtue,
+who, they felt, had unconsciously avenged for them many scornful
+slights, and they would have gladly crowned him with laurel and myrtle,
+and rewarded him with their sweetest smiles and most distinguished
+favour.
+
+However, as nothing on this terraqueous and sublunary globe can long
+remain a secret, it soon transpired through Maître Bilot, who had it
+direct from Jacques, the valet of the Marquis de Bruyères, who had been
+present during the momentous interview between his master and the Baron
+de Sigognac, that the duke’s brave antagonist was no other than the
+redoubtable Captain Fracasse; or rather, a young nobleman in disguise,
+who for the sake of a love affair had become a member of Hérode’s
+troupe of travelling comedians. As to his real name, Jacques had
+unfortunately forgotten it, further than that it ended in “_gnac_,” as
+is not uncommon in Gascony, but on the point of his rank he was
+positive. This delightfully romantic and “ower-true tale” was received
+with acclamations by the good folk of Poitiers. They were fairly
+overflowing with admiration for and interest in the valiant gentleman
+who wielded such a powerful blade, and the devoted lover who had left
+everything to follow his mistress, and when Captain Fracasse appeared
+upon the stage that evening, the prolonged and enthusiastic applause
+that greeted him, and was renewed over and over again before he was
+allowed to speak a single word, bore witness unmistakably to the favour
+with which he was regarded; while the ladies rose in their boxes and
+waved their handkerchiefs, even the grandest and most dignified among
+them, and brought the palms of their gloved hands daintily together in
+his honour. It was a real ovation, and best of all a spontaneous one.
+Isabelle also received a perfect storm of applause, which alarmed and
+had nearly overcome the retiring young actress, who blushed crimson in
+her embarrassment, as she made a modest curtsey in acknowledgment of
+the compliment.
+
+Hérode was overjoyed, and his face shone like the full moon as he
+rubbed his hands together and grinned broadly in his exuberant delight;
+for the receipts were immense, and the cash-box was full to bursting.
+Everybody had rushed to the theatre to see and applaud the now famous
+Captain Fracasse—the capital actor and high-spirited gentleman—who
+feared neither cudgels nor swords; and had not shrunk from encountering
+the dreaded Duke of Vallombreuse, the terror of all the country round,
+in mortal combat, as the champion of offended beauty. Blazius, however,
+did not share the tyrant’s raptures, but on the contrary foreboded no
+good from all this, for he feared, and not without reason, the
+vindictive character of the Duke of Vallombreuse, and was apprehensive
+that he would find some means of revenging himself for his defeat at de
+Sigognac’s hands that would be detrimental to the troupe. “Earthen
+vessels,” said he, “should be very careful how they get in the way of
+metal ones, lest, if they rashly encounter them, they be ignominiously
+smashed in the shock.” But Hérode, relying upon the support and
+countenance of the Baron de Sigognac and the Marquis de Bruyères,
+laughed at his fears, and called him faint-heart, a coward, and a
+croaker.
+
+When the comedians returned to their hotel, after the play was over, de
+Sigognac accompanied Isabelle to the door of her room, and, contrary to
+her usual custom, the young actress invited him to enter it with her.
+When they found themselves quite alone, and safe from all curious eyes,
+Isabelle turned to de Sigognac, took his hand in both of hers, and
+pressing it warmly said to him in a voice trembling with emotion,
+
+“Promise me never to run such a fearful risk for my sake again, de
+Sigognac; promise me! Swear it, if you really do love me as you say.”
+
+“That is a thing I cannot do,” the baron replied, “even to please you,
+sweet Isabelle! If ever any insolent fellow dares to show a want of
+proper respect for you, I shall surely chastise him for it, as I ought,
+be he what he may—duke, or even prince.”
+
+“But remember, de Sigognac, that I am nothing but an actress,
+inevitably exposed to affronts from the men that haunt the _coulisses_.
+It is the generally received opinion, which alas! is but too well
+justified by the usual ways of the members of my profession, that an
+actress is no better than she should be; in fine, not a proper
+character nor worthy of respect. From the moment that a woman steps
+upon the stage she becomes public property, and even if she be really
+pure and virtuous it is universally believed that she only affects it
+for a purpose. These things are hard and bitter, but they must be
+borne, since it is impossible to change them. In future trust to me, I
+pray you, to repel those who would force their unwelcome attentions
+upon me in the green-room, or endeavour to make their way into my
+dressing-room. A sharp rap over the knuckles with a corset board from
+me will be quite as efficacious as for you to draw your sword in my
+behalf.”
+
+“But I am not convinced,” said de Sigognac, with a smile; “I must still
+believe, sweet Isabelle, that the sword of a chivalrous ally would be
+your best weapon of defence, and I beg you not to deprive me of the
+precious privilege of being your devoted knight and champion.”
+
+Isabelle was still holding de Sigognac’s hand, and she now raised her
+lovely eyes, full of mute supplication, to meet his adoring gaze,
+hoping yet to draw from him, the much desired promise. But the baron
+was incorrigible; where honour was concerned he was as firm and
+unyielding as a Spanish hidalgo, and he would have braved a thousand
+deaths rather than have allowed an affront to the lady of his love to
+pass unpunished; he wished that the same deference and respect should
+be accorded to Isabelle upon the stage, as to a duchess in her
+drawing-room.
+
+“Come, de Sigognac, be reasonable,” pleaded the young actress, “and
+promise me not to expose yourself to such danger again for so frivolous
+a cause. Oh! what anxiety and anguish I endured as I awaited your
+return this morning. I knew that you had gone out to fight with that
+dreadful duke, who is held in such universal terror here; Zerbine told
+me all about it. Cruel that you are to torture my poor heart so! That
+is always the way with men; they never stop to think of what we poor,
+loving women must suffer when their pride is once aroused! off they go,
+as fierce as lions, deaf to our sobs and blind to our tears. Do you
+know, that if you had been killed I should have died too?”
+
+The tears that filled Isabelle’s eyes, and the excessive trembling of
+her voice, showed that she was in earnest, and that she had not even
+yet recovered her usual calmness and composure. More deeply touched
+than words can express by her emotion, and the love for himself it bore
+witness to, de Sigognac, encircling her slender form with the arm that
+was free, drew her gently to him, and softly kissed her fair forehead,
+whilst he could feel, as he pressed her to his breast, how she was
+panting and trembling. He held her thus tenderly embraced for a
+blissful few seconds of silent ecstasy, which a less respectful lover
+would doubtless have presumed upon; but he would have scorned to take
+advantage of the unreserved confidence bestowed upon him in a moment of
+such agitation and sorrowful excitement.
+
+“Be comforted, dear Isabelle,” said he at last, tenderly. “I was not
+killed you see, nor even hurt; and I actually wounded my adversary,
+though he does pass for a tolerably good swordsman hereabouts, I
+believe.”
+
+“Yes, I well know what a strong hand is yours, and what a brave, noble
+heart,” Isabelle replied; “and I do not scruple to acknowledge that I
+love you for it with all my heart; feeling sure that you will respect
+my frank avowal, and not endeavour to take advantage of it. When I
+first saw you, de Sigognac, dispirited and desolate, in that dreary,
+half-ruined château, where your youth was passing in sadness and
+solitude, I felt a tender interest in you suddenly spring into being in
+my heart; had you been happy and prosperous I should have been afraid
+of you, and have shrunk timidly from your notice. When we walked
+together in that neglected garden, where you held aside the brambles so
+carefully for me to pass unscathed, you gathered and presented to me a
+little wild rose—the only thing you had to give me. As I raised it to
+my lips, before putting it in my bosom, and kissed it furtively under
+pretence of inhaling its fragrance, I could not keep back a tear that
+dropped upon it, and secretly and in silence I gave you my heart in
+exchange for it.”
+
+As these entrancing words fell upon his ear, de Sigognac impulsively
+tried to kiss the sweet lips so temptingly near his own, but Isabelle
+withdrew herself gently from his embrace; not with any show of
+excessive prudery, but with a modest timidity that no really gallant
+lover would endeavour to overcome by force.
+
+“Yes, I love you, de Sigognac,” she continued, in a voice that was
+heavenly sweet, “and with all my heart, but not as other women love;
+your glory is my aim, not my own pleasure. I am perfectly willing to be
+looked upon as your mistress; it is the only thing that would account
+satisfactorily to the world at large for your presence in this troupe
+of strolling players. And why should I care for slanderous reports, so
+long as I keep my own self-esteem, and know myself to be virtuous and
+true? If there were really a stain upon my purity it would kill me; I
+could not survive it. It is the princely blood in my veins doubtless
+that gives rise to such pride in me; very ridiculous, perhaps, in an
+actress, but such is my nature.”
+
+This enchanting avowal, which would not have taught anything new to a
+more conceited or bolder suitor, but was a wonderful revelation to de
+Sigognac, who had scarcely dared to hope that his passionate, devoted
+love might some day be returned, filled him with such rapturous,
+overwhelming delight, that he was almost beside himself. A burning
+flush overspread his usually pale face; he seemed to see flames before
+his eyes; there was a strange ringing in his ears, and his heart
+throbbed so violently that he felt half suffocated. Losing control of
+himself in this moment of ecstasy, so intense that it was not unmixed
+with pain, he suddenly seized Isabelle passionately in his arms,
+strained her trembling form convulsively to his heaving breast, and
+covered her face and neck with burning kisses. She did not even try to
+struggle against this fierce embrace, but, throwing her head back,
+looked fixedly at him, with eyes full of sorrow and reproach. From
+those lovely eyes, clear and pure as an angel’s, great tears welled
+forth and rolled down over her blanched cheeks, and a suppressed sob
+shook her quivering frame as a sudden faintness seemed to come over
+her. The young baron, distracted at the sight of her grief, and full of
+keen self-reproach, put her gently down into a low, easy-chair standing
+near, and kneeling before her, took in both his own the hands that she
+abandoned to him, and passionately implored her pardon; pleading that a
+momentary madness had taken possession of him, that he repented of it
+bitterly, and was ready to atone for his offence by the most perfect
+submission to her wishes.
+
+“You have hurt me sadly, my friend!” said Isabelle at last, with a
+deep-drawn sigh. “I had such perfect confidence in your delicacy and
+respect. The frank, unreserved avowal of my love for you ought to have
+been enough, and have shown you clearly, by its very openness, that I
+trusted you entirely. I believed that you would understand me and let
+me love you in my own way, without troubling my tenderness for you by
+vulgar transports. Now, you have robbed me of my feeling of security. I
+do not doubt your words, but I shall no longer dare to yield to the
+impulses of my own heart. And yet it was so sweet to me to be with you,
+to watch you, to listen to your dear voice, and to follow the course of
+your thoughts as I saw them written in your eyes. I wished to share
+your troubles and anxieties, de Sigognac, leaving your pleasures to
+others. I said to myself, among all these coarse, dissolute, presuming
+men that hover about us, there is one who is different—one who believes
+in purity, and knows how to respect it in the woman he honours with his
+love. I dared to indulge in a sweet dream—even I, Isabelle the actress,
+pursued as I am constantly by a gallantry that is odious to me—I dared
+to indulge in the too sweet dream of enjoying with you a pure mutual
+love. I only asked to be your faithful companion, to cheer and comfort
+you in your struggles with an adverse fate until you had reached the
+beginning of happiness and prosperity, and then to retire into
+obscurity again, when you had plenty of new friends and followers, and
+no longer needed me. You see that I was not very exacting.”
+
+“Isabelle, my adored Isabelle,” cried de Sigognac, “every word that you
+speak makes me reproach myself more and more keenly for my fault, and
+the pain I have given you. Rest assured, my own darling, that you have
+nothing further to fear from me. I am not worthy to kiss the traces of
+your footprints in the dust; but yet, I pray you, listen to me! Perhaps
+you do not fully understand all my thoughts and intentions, and will
+forgive me when you do. I have nothing but my name, which is as pure
+and spotless as your sweet self, and I offer it to you, my own beloved
+Isabelle, if you will deign to accept it.”
+
+He was still kneeling at her feet, and at these ardently spoken words
+she leaned towards him, took his upraised face between her hands with a
+quick, passionate movement, and kissed him fervently on the lips; then
+she sprang to her feet and began, hurriedly and excitedly, pacing back
+and forth in the chamber.
+
+“You will be my wife, Isabelle?” cried de Sigognac in agitated tones,
+thrilling in every nerve from the sweet contact of her pure, lovely
+mouth—fresh as a flower, ardent as a flame.
+
+“Never, never,” answered Isabelle, with a clear ring of rapture in her
+voice. “I will show myself worthy of such an honour by refusing it. I
+did mistake you for a moment, my dearest friend; I did mistake you;
+forgive me. Oh! how happy you have made me; what celestial joy fills my
+soul! You do respect and esteem me, then, to the utmost? Ah! de
+Sigognac, you would really lead me, as your wife, into the hall where
+all the portraits of your honoured ancestors would look down upon us?
+and into the chapel, where your dead mother lies at rest? I could meet
+fearlessly, my beloved, the searching gaze of the dead, from whom
+nothing is hidden; the crown of purity would not be wanting on my
+brow.”
+
+“But what!” exclaimed the young baron, “you say that you love me,
+Isabelle, with all that true, faithful heart of yours, yet you will not
+accept me! either as lover or husband?”
+
+“You have offered me your name, de Sigognac, your noble, honoured name,
+and that is enough for me. I give it back to you now, after having
+cherished it for one moment in my inmost heart. For one instant I was
+your wife, and I will never, never be another’s. While my lips were on
+yours I was saying yes to myself, and oh! I did not deserve such
+happiness. For you, my beloved, it would be a sad mistake to burden
+yourself with a poor little actress like me, who would always be
+taunted with her theatrical career, however pure and honourable it may
+have been. The cold, disdainful mien with which great ladies would be
+sure to regard me would cause you keen suffering, and you could not
+challenge _them_, you know, my own brave champion! You are the last of
+a noble race, de Sigognac, and it is your duty to build up your fallen
+house. When, by a tender glance, I induced you to quit your desolate
+home and follow me, you doubtless dreamed of a love affair of the usual
+sort, which was but natural; but I, looking into the future, thought of
+far other things. I saw you returning, in rich attire, from the court
+of your gracious sovereign, who had reinstated you in your rights, and
+given you an honourable office, suitable to your exalted rank. The
+château had resumed its ancient splendour. In fancy I tore the clinging
+ivy from its crumbling walls, put the fallen stones back in their
+places, restored the dilapidated roof and shattered window-panes,
+regilded the three storks on your escutcheon over the great entrance
+door, and in the grand old portico; then, having installed you in the
+renovated home of your honoured ancestors, I retired into obscurity,
+stifling a sigh as I bade you adieu, though sincerely rejoicing in your
+well merited good fortune.”
+
+“And your dream shall be accomplished, my noble Isabelle; I feel sure
+of it—but not altogether as you relate it to me; such an ending would
+be too sad and grievous. You shall be the first, you, my own darling,
+with this dear hand clasped in mine, as now, to cross the threshold of
+that blessed abode, whence ruin and desolation shall have disappeared,
+and have been replaced by prosperity and happiness.”
+
+“No, no, de Sigognac, it will be some great, and noble, and beautiful
+heiress, worthy of you in every way, who will accompany you then; one
+that you can present with just pride to all your friends, and of whom
+none can say, with a malicious smile, I hissed or applauded her at such
+a time and place.”
+
+“It is downright cruelty on your part to show your self so adorable, so
+worthy of all love and admiration, my sweet Isabelle, and at the same
+time to deprive me of every hope,” said de Sigognac, ruefully; “to give
+one glimpse of heaven and then shut me out again; nothing could be more
+cruel. But I will not despair; I shall make you yield to me yet.”
+
+“Do not try, I beseech you,” continued Isabelle, with gentle firmness,
+“for I never shall; I should despise myself if I did. Strive to be
+content, de Sigognac, with the purest, truest, most devoted love that
+ever filled a woman’s heart, and do not ask for more. Is it such an
+unsatisfactory thing to you,” she added, with a bright smile, “to be
+adored by a girl that several men have had the bad taste to declare
+charming? Why, even the Duke of Vallombreuse himself professes that he
+would be proud of it.”
+
+“But to give yourself to me so absolutely, and to refuse yourself to me
+as absolutely! to mingle such sweet and bitter drops in the same
+cup—honey and wormwood—and present it to my lips! only you, Isabelle,
+could be capable of such strange contradictions.”
+
+“Yes, I _am_ an odd girl,” she replied, “and therein I resemble my poor
+mother; but such as I am you must put up with me. If you should persist
+in persecuting me, I know well how I could elude and escape you, and
+where I could hide myself from you so that you would never be able to
+find me. But there will be no need of that, we will not talk of it; our
+compact is made. Let it be as I say, de Sigognac, and let us be happy
+together while we may. It grows late now, and you must go to your own
+room; will you take with you these verses, of a part that does not suit
+me at all, and remodel them for me? they belong to a piece that we are
+to play very soon. Let me be your faithful little friend, de Sigognac,
+and you shall be my great, and well-beloved poet.”
+
+Isabelle, as she spoke, drew forth from a bureau a roll of manuscript,
+tied with a rose-coloured ribbon, which she gave to the baron with a
+radiant smile.
+
+“Now kiss me, and go,” she said, holding up her cheek for his caress.
+“You are going to work for me, and this is your reward. Good-night, my
+beloved, good-night.”
+
+It was long after he had regained the quiet of his own room ere de
+Sigognac could compose himself sufficiently to set about the light task
+imposed upon him by Isabelle. He was at once enchanted and cast down;
+radiant with joy, and filled with sorrow; in a seventh heaven of
+ecstasy, and in the depths of despair. He laughed and he wept
+alternately, swayed by the most tumultuous and contradictory emotions.
+The intense happiness of at last knowing himself beloved by his adored
+Isabelle made him exultant and joyful, while the terrible thought that
+she never would be his made his heart sink within him. Little by
+little, however, he grew calmer, as his mind dwelt lovingly upon the
+picture Isabelle had drawn of the Château de Sigognac restored to its
+ancient splendour, and as he sat musing he had a wonderful vision of
+it—so glowing and vivid that it was like reality. He saw before him the
+facade of the château, with its large windows shining in the sunlight,
+and its many weather-cocks, all freshly gilded, glistening against the
+bright blue sky, whilst the columns of smoke rising from every chimney,
+so long cold and unused, told of plenty and prosperity within, and his
+good faithful Pierre, in a rich new suit of livery, stood between
+Miraut and Beelzebub at the great entrance door awaiting him. He saw
+himself, in sumptuous attire, proudly leading his fair Isabelle by the
+hand towards the grand old home of his forefathers; his beautiful
+Isabelle, dressed like a princess, wearing ornaments bearing a device
+which seemed to be that of one of the greatest, most illustrious
+families of France, and with a ducal coronet upon her shapely head. But
+with it all she did not appear to be proud or haughty—she was just her
+own sweet, modest self—and in the hand that was free she carried the
+little wild rose, fresh as when it was first plucked, that he had given
+her, and from time to time raised and pressed it tenderly to her lips
+as she inhaled its fragrance; it seemed more precious to her than all
+the superb jewels that she wore. As they approached the château a most
+stately and majestic old man, whose breast was covered with orders, and
+whose face seemed not entirely unfamiliar to de Sigognac, stepped forth
+from the portico to meet and welcome them. But what greatly surprised
+him was that a remarkably handsome young man, of most proud and lofty
+bearing, accompanied the old prince, who closely resembled the Duke of
+Vallombreuse, and who smilingly advanced and offered a cordial
+salutation and welcome to Isabelle and himself. A great crowd of
+tenantry stationed near at hand hailed them with lusty cheers, making
+many demonstrations of hearty joy and delight, and his own happiness
+seemed to be complete. Suddenly the sound of a horn was heard, and at a
+little distance he saw the beautiful Yolande de Foix, radiant and
+charming as ever, riding slowly by—apparently returning from the chase.
+He followed her with his eyes admiringly, but felt no regret as her
+figure was lost to view amid the thick gorse bushes bordering the road
+down which she was going, and turned with ever increasing love and
+adoration to the sweet being at his side. The memory of the fair
+Yolande, whom he had once worshipped in a vague, boyish way, faded
+before the delicious reality of his passionate love for Isabelle; who
+satisfied so fully every requirement of his nature, and had so
+thoroughly healed the wound made by the scorn and ridicule of the
+other, that it seemed to be entirely forgotten then.
+
+It was not easy for de Sigognac to rouse himself after this entrancing
+vision, which had been so startlingly real, and fix his attention upon
+the verses he had promised to revise and alter for Isabelle, but when
+at last he had succeeded, he threw himself into his task with
+enthusiasm, and wrote far into the night—inspired by the thought of the
+sweet lips that had called him her poet, and that were to pronounce the
+words he penned; and he was rewarded for his exertions by Isabelle’s
+sweetest smile, and warmest praise and gratitude.
+
+At the theatre the next evening the crowd was even greater than before,
+and the crush unprecedented. The reputation of Captain Fracasse, the
+valiant conqueror of the Duke of Vallombreuse; increased hourly, and
+began to assume a chimerical and fabulous character. If the labours of
+Hercules had been ascribed to him, there would have been some credulous
+ones to believe the tale, and he was endowed by his admirers with the
+prowess of a dozen good knights and brave, of the ancient times of
+chivalrous deeds. Some of the young noblemen of the place talked of
+seeking his acquaintance, and giving a grand banquet in his honour;
+more than one fair lady was desperately in love with him, and had
+serious thoughts of writing a billet-doux to tell him so. In short, he
+was the fashion, and everybody swore by him. As for the hero of a this
+commotion, he was greatly annoyed at being thus forcibly dragged forth
+from the obscurity in which he had desired to remain, but it was not
+possible to avoid it, and he could only submit. For a few moments he
+did think of bolting, and not making his appearance again upon the
+stage in Poitiers; but the remembrance of the disappointment it would
+be to the worthy tyrant, who was in an ecstasy of delight over the
+riches pouring into the treasury, prevented his carrying out this
+design. And, indeed, as he reminded himself, were not these honest
+comedians, who had rescued him from his misery and despair, entitled in
+all fairness to profit, so far as they could, by this unexpected and
+overwhelming favour which he had all unwittingly gained? So, resigning
+himself as philosophically as he could to his fate, he buckled his
+sword-belt, draped his cloak over his shoulder, put on his mask and
+calmly awaited his call to the stage.
+
+As the receipts were so large, Hérode, like a generous manager, had
+doubled the usual number of lights, so that the theatre was almost as
+radiant as if a flood of sunshine had been poured into it. The fair
+portion of the audience, hoping to attract the attention of the valiant
+Captain Fracasse, had arrayed themselves in all their splendour; not a
+diamond was left in its casket; they sparkled and flashed, every one,
+on necks and arms more or less white and round, and on heads more or
+less shapely, but all filled with an ardent desire to please the hero
+of the hour; so the scene was a brilliant one in every way. Only one
+box yet remained unoccupied, the best situated and most conspicuous in
+the whole house; every eye was turned upon it, and much wonder
+expressed at the apathy manifested by those who had secured it, for all
+the rest of the spectators had been long settled in their places. At
+length, just as the curtain was rising, a young lady entered and took
+her seat in the much observed box, accompanied by a gentleman of
+venerable and patriarchal appearance; apparently an indulgent old
+uncle, a slave to the caprices of his pretty niece, who had renounced
+his comfortable after-dinner nap by the fire, in order to obey her
+behest and escort her to the theatre. She, slender and erect as Diana,
+was very richly and elegantly dressed, in that peculiar and exquisite
+shade of delicate sea green which can be worn only by the purest
+blondes, and which seemed to enhance the dazzling whiteness of her
+uncovered shoulders, and the rounded, slender neck, diaphanous as
+alabaster, that proudly sustained her small, exquisitely poised head.
+Her hair, clustering in sunny ringlets round her brow, was like living
+gold, it made a glory round her head, and the whole audience was
+enraptured with her beauty, though an envious mask concealed so much of
+it; all, indeed, save the snow-white forehead, the round dimpled chin,
+the ripe red lips, whose tint was rendered yet more vivid by the
+contrast with the black velvet that shaded them, the perfect oval of
+the face, and a dainty little ear, pink as a sea-shell—a combination of
+charms worthy of a goddess, and which made every one impatient to see
+the radiant, beauteous whole. They were soon gratified; for the young
+deity, either incommoded by the heat, or else wishing to show a queenly
+generosity to the gazing throng, took off the odious mask, and
+disclosed to view a pair of brilliant eyes, dark and blue as lapis
+lazuli, shaded with rich golden fringes, a piquant, perfectly cut
+little nose, half Grecian, half aquiline, and cheeks tinged with a
+delicate flush that would have put a rose-leaf to shame. In fine, it
+was Yolande de Foix, more radiantly beautiful than ever, who, leaning
+forward in a negligent, graceful pose, looked nonchalantly about the
+house, not in the least discomposed by the many eyes fixed boldly and
+admiringly upon her. A loud burst of applause, that greeted the first
+appearance of the favourite actor, drew attention from her for a
+moment, as de Sigognac stalked forward upon the stage in the character
+of Captain Fracasse. As he paused, to wait until his admirers would
+allow him to begin his first tirade, he looked negligently round the
+eager audience, and when his eyes fell upon Yolande de Foix, sitting
+tranquil and radiant in her box, calmly surveying him with her glorious
+eyes, he suddenly turned dizzy and faint; the lights appeared first to
+blaze like suns, and then sink into darkness; the heads of the
+spectators seemed sinking into a dense fog; a cold perspiration started
+out on him from head to foot; he trembled violently, and felt as if his
+legs were giving way under him; composure, memory, courage, all seemed
+to have failed him, as utterly as if he had been struck by lightning.
+
+Oh, shame! oh, rage! oh, too cruel stroke of fate! for him, a de
+Sigognac, to be seen by her—the haughty beauty that he used to worship
+from afar—in this grotesque array, filling so unworthy, so ridiculous a
+part, for the amusement of the gaping multitude! and he could not hide
+himself, he could not sink into the earth, away from her contemptuous,
+mocking gaze. He felt that he could not, would not bear it, and for a
+moment was upon the point of flying; but there seemed to be leaden
+soles to his shoes, which he could by no means raise from the ground.
+He was powerless to move hand or foot, and stood there in a sort of
+stupefaction; to the great astonishment of Scapin, who, thinking that
+he must have forgotten his part, whispered to him the opening phrases
+of his tirade. The public thought that their favourite actor desired
+another round of applause, and broke out afresh, clapping, stamping,
+crying bravo, making a tremendous racket, which little respite gave
+poor de Sigognac time to collect his scattered senses, and, with a
+mighty effort, he broke the spell that had bound him, and threw himself
+into his part with such desperation that his acting was more
+extravagant and telling than ever. It fairly brought down the house.
+The haughty Yolande herself could not forbear to smile, and her old
+uncle, thoroughly aroused, laughed heartily, and applauded with all his
+might. No one but Isabelle had the slightest idea of the reason of
+Captain Fracasse’s unwonted fury—but she saw at once who was looking
+on, and knowing how sensitive he was, realized the effect it must
+infallibly produce upon him. She furtively watched the proud beauty as
+she modestly played her own part, and thought, not without a keen pang
+through her faithful, loving heart, that here would be a worthy mate
+for the Baron de Sigognac, when he had succeeded in re-establishing the
+lost splendour of his house. As to the poor young nobleman, he resolved
+not to glance once again at Yolande, lest he should be seized by a
+sudden transport of rage and do something utterly rash and disgraceful,
+but kept his eyes fixed, whenever he could, upon his sweet, lovely
+Isabelle. The sight of her dear face was balm to his wounded spirit—her
+love, of which he was now so blissfully sure, consoled him for the
+openly manifested scorn of the other, and from her he drew strength to
+go on bravely with his detested part.
+
+It was over at last—the piece was finished—and when de Sigognac tore
+off his mask, like a man who is suffocating, his companions were
+alarmed at his altered looks. He was fairly livid, and let himself fall
+upon a bench standing near like a lifeless body. Seeing that he was
+very faint, Blazius hastened to fetch some wine—his sovereign remedy
+for every ill—but de Sigognac rejected it, and signed that he wanted
+water instead.
+
+“A great mistake,” said the pedant, shaking his head disapprovingly, “a
+sad mistake—water is only fit for frogs, and fish, and such-like
+cold-blooded creatures—it does not do for human beings at all. Every
+water-bottle should be labelled, ’For external use only.’ Why, I should
+die instantly if so much as a drop of the vile stuff found its way down
+my throat. Take my advice, Captain Fracasse, and let it alone. Here,
+have some of this good strong wine; it will set you right in a jiffy.”
+
+But de Sigognac would not be persuaded, and persisted in motioning for
+water. When it was brought, cool and fresh, he eagerly swallowed a
+large draught of the despised liquid, and found himself almost
+immediately revived by it—his face resuming a more natural hue, and the
+light returning to his eyes. When he was able to sit up and look about
+him again, Hérode approached, in his turn, and said, “You played
+admirably this evening, and with wonderful spirit, Captain Fracasse,
+but it does not do to take too much out of yourself in this way—such
+violent exertions would quickly do for you. The comedian’s art consists
+in sparing himself as much as possible, whilst producing striking
+effects; he should be calm amidst all his simulated fury, and cool in
+his apparently most burning rage. Never did actor play this part as
+superbly as you have done to-night—_that_ I am bound to acknowledge—but
+this is too dear a price to pay for it.”
+
+“Yes, wasn’t I absurd in it?” answered the baron bitterly. “I felt
+myself supremely ridiculous throughout—but especially when my head went
+through the guitar with which Leander was belabouring me.”
+
+“You certainly did put on the most comically furious airs imaginable,”
+the tyrant replied, “and the whole audience was convulsed with
+laughter. Even Mlle. Yolande de Foix, that very great, and proud, and
+noble lady, condescended to smile. I saw her myself.”
+
+“It was a great honour for me assuredly,” cried de Sigognac, with
+flaming cheeks, “to have been able to divert so great a lady.”
+
+“Pardon me, my lord,” said the tyrant, who perceived the painful flush
+that covered the baron’s face, “I should have remembered that the
+success which is so prized by us poor comedians, actors by profession,
+cannot but be a matter of indifference to one of your lordship’s rank.”
+
+“You have not offended me, my good Hérode,” de Sigognac hastened to
+reply, holding out his hand to the honest tyrant with a genial smile,
+“whatever is worth doing is worth doing well. But I could not help
+remembering that I had dreamed of and hoped for very different triumphs
+from this.”
+
+Isabelle, who meantime had been dressing for the other piece, passed
+near de Sigognac just then, and gave him such an angelic look—so full
+of tenderness, sympathy, and passionate love—that he quite forgot the
+haughty Yolande, and felt really happy again. It was a divine balm,
+that healed his wounded pride—for the moment at least; but such wounds
+are all too apt to open and bleed again and again.
+
+The Marquis de Bruyères was at his post as usual, and though very much
+occupied in applauding Zerbine, yet found time to go and pay his
+respects to Mlle. Yolande de Foix. He related to her, without
+mentioning the baron’s name, the affair of the duel between Captain
+Fracasse and the Duke of Vallombreuse saying that he ought to be able
+to give all the details of that famous encounter better than anybody
+else, since he had been present as one of the seconds.
+
+“You need not be so mysterious about it,” answered Yolande, “for it is
+not difficult to divine that your Captain Fracasse is no other than the
+Baron de Sigognac. Didn’t I myself see him leaving his old owl-haunted
+towers in company with this little _Bohémienne_, who plays her part of
+ingenuous young girl with such a precious affectation of modesty?” she
+added, with a forced laugh. “And wasn’t he at your château with these
+very players? Judging from his usual stupid, silly air, I would not
+have believed him capable of making such a clever mountebank, and such
+a faithful gallant.”
+
+As he conversed with Yolande, the marquis was looking about the house,
+of which he had a much better view than from his own place near the
+stage, and his attention was caught and fixed by the masked lady, whom
+he had not seen before, as his back was always turned to her box.
+Although her head and figure were much enveloped and disguised in a
+profusion of black laces, the attitude and general contour of this
+mysterious beauty seemed strangely familiar to him, and there was
+something about her that reminded him forcibly of the _marquise_, his
+own wife. “Bah!” said he to himself, “how foolish I am; she must be all
+safe at the Château de Bruyères, where I left her.” But at that very
+moment he caught sight of a diamond ring—a large solitaire, peculiarly
+set—sparkling on her finger, which was precisely like one that the
+Marquise de Bruyères always wore.
+
+A little troubled by this strange coincidence, he took leave abruptly
+of the fair Yolande and her devoted old uncle, and hastened to the
+masked lady’s box. But, prompt as his movements had been, he was too
+late—the nest was empty—the bird had flown. The lady, whoever she might
+be, had vanished, and the suspicious husband was left in considerable
+vexation and perplexity. “Could it be possible,” he murmured, as his
+doubts became almost certainty, “that she was sufficiently infatuated
+to fall in love with that miserable Leander, and follow him here?
+Fortunately I had the rascal thoroughly thrashed, so I am even with
+him, how ever it may be.” This thought restored his ruffled serenity,
+and he made his way as fast as he could to the green-room, to rejoin
+the _soubrette_, who had been impatiently expecting him, and did not
+hesitate to rate him soundly for his unwonted delay.
+
+When all was over, and Leander—who had been feeling excessively anxious
+about the sudden disappearance of his _marquise_—was free, he
+immediately repaired to the open square where he had been first bidden
+to meet the carriage sent to fetch him, and where he had found it
+awaiting him nightly ever since. The little page, who was there alone,
+put a letter and a small package into his hand, without a word, and
+then running swiftly away, before Leander had time to question him,
+vanished in the darkness. The note, which was signed simply _Marie_,
+was from the _marquise_, who said that she feared her husband’s
+suspicions had been excited, and that it would no longer be safe for
+them to meet just then, bade him an affectionate farewell until it
+might be their good fortune to see each other again, expressed much
+regret at this unlucky _contretemps_, and begged him to accept the gold
+chain she sent therewith as a little souvenir, to remind him of the
+many happy hours they had spent together. Leander was at first very
+much vexed and disappointed, but was somewhat reconciled and consoled
+when he felt the weight of his golden treasure, and saw its length and
+thickness; and, on the whole, was rather glad to come off with such
+flying colours from an adventure that might have brought down a yet
+more severe punishment than that he had already received upon his
+devoted head.
+
+When Isabelle regained her own room she found a very rich and elegant
+casket awaiting her there, which had been placed conspicuously on the
+dressing-table, where it could not fail to meet her eye the moment she
+entered the chamber. A folded paper was lying under one corner of the
+casket, which must have contained some very precious gems, for it was a
+real marvel of beauty itself. The paper was not sealed, and bore only
+these two words, evidently written by a weak and trembling hand, “For
+Isabelle.” A bright flush of indignation overspread her sweet face when
+she perceived it, and without even yielding to her feminine curiosity
+so far as to open the richly carved and inlaid casket for a peep at its
+contents, she called for Maître Bilot, and ordered him peremptorily to
+take it immediately out of her room, and give it back to whomsoever
+owned it, for she would not suffer it to remain where it was another
+minute. The landlord affected astonishment, and swore by all he held
+sacred that he did not know who had put the casket there, nor whose it
+was; though it must be confessed that he had his suspicions, and felt
+very sure that they were correct. In truth, the obnoxious jewel-case
+had been secretly placed upon Isabelle’s table by old Mme. Léonarde, to
+whom the Duke of Vallombreuse had had recourse, in the hope that she
+might be able to aid him, and in the full belief, shared by her, that
+the superb diamonds which the beautiful casket contained would
+accomplish all that he desired with Isabelle. But his offering only
+served to rouse her indignation, and she spoke very severely to Maître
+Bilot, commanding him to remove it instantly from her sight, and to be
+careful not to mention this fresh affront to Captain Fracasse. The
+worthy landlord could not help feeling enthusiastic admiration for the
+conduct of the young actress, who rejected jewels that would have made
+a duchess envious, and as he retired bowed to her as respectfully and
+profoundly as he would have done to a queen. After he had withdrawn and
+she was left alone, Isabelle, feeling agitated and feverish, opened her
+window for a breath of fresh air, and to cool her burning cheeks and
+brow. She saw a bright light issuing from a couple of windows in the
+mansion of the Duke of Vallombreuse—doubtless in the room where the
+wounded young nobleman lay—but the garden and the little alley beneath
+her seemed absolutely deserted. In a moment, however, she caught a low
+whisper from the latter, not intended for her ears, which said, “She
+has not gone to bed yet.” She softly leaned out of her window—the room
+within was not lighted, so she could not be seen—and peering anxiously
+into the darkness thought she could distinguish two cloaked figures
+lurking in the alley, and farther away, near one end of it, a third
+one, apparently on the watch. They seemed to feel that they were
+observed, and all three presently slunk away and vanished, leaving
+Isabelle half in doubt as to whether they were the creatures of her
+excited imagination, or had been real men prowling there. Tired at last
+of watching, without hearing or seeing anything more, she withdrew from
+the window, closed and secured it softly, procured a light, saw that
+the great, clumsy bolt on her door was property adjusted, and made her
+preparations for bed; lying down at last and trying to sleep, for she
+was very tired, but haunted by vague fears and doubts that made her
+anxious and uneasy. She did not extinguish her light, but placed it
+near the bed, and strove to reassure herself and reason away her
+nameless terror; but all in vain. At every little noise—the cracking of
+the furniture or the falling of a cinder in the fire-place, she started
+up in fresh alarm, and could not close her eyes. High up in the wall of
+one side of her room was a small round window—a bull’s eye—evidently
+intended to give light and air to some dark inner chamber or closet,
+which looked like a great black eye in the gray wall, keeping an
+unwinking watch upon her, and Isabelle found herself again and again
+glancing up at it with a shudder. It was crossed by two strong iron
+bars, leaving four small apertures, so that there could not possibly be
+any danger of intrusion from that quarter, yet she could not avoid
+feeling nervous about it, and at times fancied that she could see two
+gleaming eye-balls in its black depths. She lay for a long time
+perfectly motionless gazing at it, like one under a spell, and at last
+was paralyzed with horror when a head actually appeared at one of the
+four openings—a small, dark head, with wild, tangled elf-locks hanging
+about it; next came a long, thin arm with a claw-like hand, then the
+shoulder followed, and finally the whole body of a slender, emaciated
+little girl wriggled dexterously, though with much difficulty, through
+the narrow aperture, and the child dropped down upon the floor as
+lightly and noiselessly as a feather, a snow-flake, or a waft of
+thistle-down. She had been deceived by Isabelle’s remaining so long
+perfectly quiet, and believed her asleep; but when she softly
+approached the bed, to make sure that her victim’s slumber had not been
+disturbed by her own advent, an expression of extreme surprise was
+depicted on her face, as she got a full view of the head lying upon the
+pillow and the eyes fixed upon her in speechless terror. “The lady of
+the necklace!” she exclaimed aloud. “Yes, the lady of the necklace!”
+putting one hand, as she spoke, caressingly upon the string of pearl
+beads round her little, thin, brown neck. Isabelle, for her part,
+though half dead with fright, had recognised the little girl she had
+first seen at the Blue Sun inn, and afterwards on the road to the
+Château de Bruyères, in company with Agostino, the brigand. She tried
+to cry out for help, but the child put her hand quickly and firmly over
+her mouth.
+
+“Don’t scream,” she said reassuringly, “nothing shall hurt you.
+Chiquita promised that she would never kill nor harm the good, sweet
+lady, who gave her the pearls that she meant to steal.”
+
+“But what have you come in here for, my poor child?” asked Isabelle,
+gradually recovering her composure, but filled with surprise at this
+strange intrusion.
+
+“To open the great bolt on your door there that you are so careful to
+close every night,” answered Chiquita, in the most matter-of-fact way.
+“They chose me for it because I am such a good climber, and as thin and
+supple as a snake; there are not many holes that I cannot manage to
+crawl through.”
+
+“And why were you to open my door, Chiquita? so that thieves could come
+in and steal what few things I have here? There is nothing of value
+among them, I assure you.”
+
+“Oh, no!” Chiquita replied disdainfully, “it was to let the men in who
+were to carry you off.”
+
+“My God! I am lost!” cried poor Isabelle, wringing her hands in
+despair.
+
+“Not at all,” said Chiquita, “and you need not be so frightened. I
+shall just leave the bolt as it is, and they would not dare to force
+the door; it would make too much noise, and they would be caught at it;
+they’re not so silly as that, never fear.”
+
+“But I should have shrieked at the top of my voice, and clung to the
+bedstead with all my might, if they had tried to take me,” exclaimed
+Isabelle excitedly, “so that I would have been heard by the people in
+the neighbouring rooms, and I’m sure they would have come to my
+rescue.”
+
+“A good gag will stifle any shrieks,” said Chiquita sententiously, with
+a lofty contempt for Isabelle’s ignorance that was very amusing, “and a
+blanket rolled tightly about the body prevents any movements; that is
+an easy matter you see. They would have carried you off without the
+slightest difficulty, for the stable boy was bribed, and was to open
+the back door for them.”
+
+“Who has laid this wicked plot?” asked the poor, frightened, young
+girl, with a trembling voice, horror-stricken at the danger she had
+escaped.
+
+“The great lord who has given them all such heaps of money; oh! such
+quantities of big gold pieces—by the handful,” said Chiquita, her great
+dark eyes glittering with a fierce, covetous expression, strange and
+horrible to see in one so young. “But all the same, _you_ gave me the
+pearls, and he shall not hurt you; he shall not have you if you don’t
+want to go. I will tell them that you were awake, and there was a man
+in the room, so that I could not get in and open the door for them;
+they will all go away quietly enough; you need not be afraid. Now let
+me have one good look at you before I go—oh, how sweet and pretty you
+are—and I love you, yes, I do, ever so much; almost as much as
+Agostino. But what is this?” cried she suddenly, pouncing upon a knife
+that was lying on the table near the bed. “Why, you have got the very
+knife I lost; it was my father’s knife. Well, you may keep it—it’s a
+good one.”
+
+‘When this viper bites you, make sure
+That you must die, for there’s no cure.’
+
+
+“See, this is the way to open it, and then you use it like this: strike
+from below upwards—the blade goes in better that way—and it’s so sharp
+it will go through anything. Carry it in the bosom of your dress, and
+it is always ready; then if anybody bothers you, out with it, and paf!
+you have them ripped up in no time,” and the strange, eerie little
+creature accompanied her words with appropriate gestures, by way of
+illustration. This extraordinary lesson in the art of using a knife,
+given in the dead of night, and under such peculiar circumstances,
+seemed like a nightmare to Isabelle.
+
+“Be sure you hold the knife like this, do you see? tightly clasped in
+your fingers—as long as you have it no one can harm you, but you can
+hurt them. Now, I must go—adieu, and don’t forget Chiquita.”
+
+So saying, the queer little elf pushed a table up to the wall under the
+bull’s eye, mounted it, sprang up and caught hold of the iron bar with
+the agility of a monkey, swung herself up in some extraordinary
+fashion, wriggled through the small opening and disappeared, chanting
+in a rude measure, “Chiquita whisks through key-holes, and dances on
+the sharp points of spear-heads and the broken glass on garden walls,
+without ever hurting herself one bit—and nobody can catch her.”
+
+Isabelle, left alone, awaited the break of day with trembling
+impatience, unable to sleep after the fright and agitation she had
+experienced, and momentarily dreading some fresh cause of alarm; but
+nothing else happened to disturb her. When she joined her companions at
+breakfast, they were all struck with her extreme pallor, and the
+distressed expression of her countenance. To their anxious questions
+she replied by giving an account of her nocturnal adventure, and de
+Sigognac, furious at this fresh outrage, could scarcely be restrained
+from going at once to demand, satisfaction for it from the Duke of
+Vallombreuse, to whom he did not hesitate to attribute this villainous
+scheme.
+
+“I think,” said Blazius, when he could make himself heard, “that we had
+better pack up, and be off as soon as we can for Paris; the air is
+becoming decidedly unwholesome for us in this place.”
+
+After a short discussion all the others agreed with him, and it was
+decided that they should take their departure from Poitiers the very
+next day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+THE PONT-NEUF
+
+
+It would be too long and tedious to follow our comedians, step by step,
+on their way up to Paris, the great capital. No adventures worthy of
+being recorded here befell them; as they were in good circumstances
+financially, they could travel rapidly and comfortably, and were not
+again subjected to such hardships and annoyances as they had endured in
+the earlier stages of their long journey. At Tours and Orléans they
+stopped to give a few representations, which were eminently successful,
+and very satisfactory to the troupe as well as the public. No attempt
+being made to molest them in any way, Blazius after a time forgot his
+fears, which had been excited by the vindictive character of the Duke
+of Vallombreuse, but Isabelle could not banish from her memory the
+wicked plot to abduct her, and many times saw again in her dreams
+Chiquita’s wild, weird face, with the long, tangled elf-locks hanging
+around it, just as it had appeared to her that dreadful night at the
+_Armes de France_, glaring at her with fierce, wolfish eyes. Then she
+would start up, sobbing and trembling, in violent agitation, and it
+required the most tender soothing from her companion, Zerbine, whose
+room she had shared ever since they quitted Poitiers, to quiet and
+reassure her. The _soubrette_, thoroughly enamoured of Isabelle as of
+old, was devoted to her, and took great delight in watching over and
+ministering to her; an own sister could not have been kinder or more
+affectionately considerate.
+
+The only evidence that de Sigognac gave of the anxiety which he
+secretly felt, was his always insisting upon occupying the room nearest
+Isabelle’s, and he used to lie down in his clothes, with his drawn
+sword on the bed beside him, so as to be ready in case of any sudden
+alarm. By day he generally walked on in advance of the chariot, taking
+upon himself the duty of a scout; redoubling his vigilance wherever
+there happened to be bushes, thickets, high walls, or lurking places of
+any kind, favourable to an ambuscade, near the roadside. If he
+perceived from afar a group of travellers approaching, whose appearance
+seemed to him in the least suspicious, he would instantly draw his
+sword and fall back upon the chariot, around which the tyrant, Scapin,
+Blazius and Leander formed an apparently strong guard; though, of the
+last two mentioned, one was incapacitated for active service by age,
+and the other was as timid as a hare. Some times, varying his tactics
+like a good general, who thinks of and provides against every
+emergency, the baron would constitute himself a rear guard, and follow
+the chariot at a little distance, keeping watch over the road behind
+them. But all his precautions were needless, for no attack was made
+upon the travellers, or any attempt to interfere with them, and they
+proceeded tranquilly on their way, “without let or hindrance.” Although
+it was winter, the season was not a rigorous one, and our comedians,
+well fortified against the cold by plenty of warm clothing and good
+nourishing food, did not mind their exposure to the weather, and found
+their journey a very enjoyable affair. To be sure, the sharp, frosty
+air brought a more brilliant colour than usual into the cheeks of the
+fair members of the troupe, but no one could say that it detracted from
+their charms; and even when it extended, as it did sometimes, to their
+pretty little noses, it could not be found serious fault with, for
+everything is becoming to a young and beautiful woman.
+
+At last they drew near to the capital—following the windings of the
+Seine, whose waters flow past royal palaces, and many another edifice
+of world-wide renown—and at four o’clock of a bright winter afternoon
+came in sight of its spires and domes. The smoke rising from its forest
+of chimneys hung over it in a semi-transparent cloud, through which the
+sun shone, round and red, like a ball of fire. As they entered the city
+by the Porte Saint Bernard, a glorious spectacle greeted their
+wondering eyes. In front of them Notre Dame stood out in bold relief,
+with its magnificent flying buttresses, its two stately towers, massive
+and majestic, and its slender, graceful spire, springing from the lofty
+roof at the point of intersection of the nave and transepts. Many other
+lesser towers and spires rose above churches and chapels that were lost
+amid the densely crowded houses all about them, but de Sigognac had
+eyes only for the grand old cathedral, which overwhelmed him with
+astonishment and delight. He would have liked to linger for hours and
+gaze upon that splendid triumph of architecture, but he needs must go
+forward with the rest, however reluctantly. The wonderful and unceasing
+whirl and confusion in the narrow, crowded streets, through which they
+made their way slowly, and not without difficulty, perplexed and
+distracted him, accustomed as he had been all his life to the vast
+solitude of the Landes, and the deathly stillness that reigned almost
+unbroken in his own desolate old château; it seemed to him as if a
+mill-wheel were running round and round in his head, and he could feel
+himself staggering like a drunken man. The Pont-Neuf was soon reached,
+and then de Sigognac caught a glimpse of the famous equestrian statue
+in bronze of the great and good king, Henri IV, which stands on its
+lofty pedestal and seems to be keeping guard over the splendid bridge,
+with its ever-rolling stream of foot-passengers, horsemen, and vehicles
+of every kind and description, from the superb court carriage to the
+huckster’s hand-cart; but in a moment it was lost to view, as the
+chariot turned into the then newly opened Rue Dauphine. In this street
+was a fine big hotel, frequently patronized by ambassadors from foreign
+lands, with numerous retinues; for it was so vast that it could always
+furnish accommodations for large parties arriving unexpectedly. As the
+prosperous state of their finances admitted of their indulging in such
+luxury, Hérode had fixed upon this house as their place of abode in
+Paris; because it would give a certain prestige to his troupe to be
+lodged there, and show conclusively that they were not mere needy,
+vagabond players, gaining a precarious livelihood in their wanderings
+through the provinces, but a company of comedians of good standing,
+whose talents brought them in a handsome revenue.
+
+Upon their arrival at this imposing hostelry, they were first shown
+into an immense kitchen, which presented an animated, busy scene—a
+whole army of cooks bustling about the great roaring fire, and around
+the various tables, where all sorts of culinary rites were in active
+progress; while the mingling of savoury odours that pervaded the whole
+place so tickled the olfactory organs of Blazius, Hérode, and Scapin,
+the gourmands of the troupe, that their mouths expanded into the
+broadest of grins, as they edged as near as possible to the numerous
+saucepans, etc., from which they issued. In a few moments a servant
+came to conduct them to the rooms that had been prepared for them, and
+just as they turned away from the blazing fire, round which they had
+gathered, to follow him, a traveller entered and approached it, whose
+face seemed strangely familiar to de Sigognac. He was a tall, powerful
+man, wearing large spurs, which rang against the stone floor at every
+step, and the great spots of mud—some of them not yet dry—with which he
+was bespattered from head to foot, showed that he must have been riding
+far and fast. He was a fierce-looking fellow, with an insolent,
+devil-may-care, arrogant sort of expression, and bold, swaggering gait,
+yet he started at sight of the young baron, and plainly shrunk from his
+eye; hastening on to the fire and bending over it, with his back turned
+to de Sigognac, under pretence of warming his hands. In vain did our
+hero try to recall when and where he had seen the man before, but he
+was positive that he had come in contact with him somewhere, and that
+recently; and he was conscious of a vague feeling of uneasiness with
+regard to him, that he could not account for. However, there was
+nothing for him to do but follow his companions, and they all went to
+their respective chambers, there to make themselves presentable for the
+meal to which they were shortly summoned, and which they thoroughly
+enjoyed, as only hungry travellers can. The fare was excellent, the
+wine capital, the dining-room well lighted, warm, and comfortable, and
+all were in high spirits; congratulating each other upon having happily
+reached the end of their long journey at last, and drinking to their
+own future success in this great city of Paris. They indulged in the
+flattering hope of producing a sensation here as well as at Poitiers,
+and even dared to dream of being commanded to appear before the court,
+and of being rewarded royally for their exertions to please. Only de
+Sigognac was silent and preoccupied, and Isabelle, whose thoughts were
+all of him, cast anxious glances at him, and wished that she could
+charm away his melancholy. He was seated at the other end of the table,
+and still puzzling over the face that he had seen in the kitchen, but
+he soon looked towards her, and caught her lovely eyes fixed upon him,
+with such an adorable expression of chaste love and angelic tenderness
+in their shadowy depths, that all thoughts save of her were at once
+banished from his mind. The warmth of the room had flushed her cheeks a
+little, her eyes shone like stars, and she looked wonderfully
+beautiful; the young Duke of Vallombreuse would have been more madly
+enamoured of her than ever if he could have seen her then. As for de
+Sigognac, he gazed at her with unfeigned delight, his dark, expressive
+eyes eloquent of adoring love and deep reverence. A new sentiment
+mingled with his passion now—ever since she had opened her heart to
+him, and let him see all its heavenly purity and goodness—which
+elevated, ennobled, and intensified it. He knew now the true, lofty
+beauty of her soul, that it was akin to the angels, and but for the
+keen, ever-increasing grief he suffered because of her firm refusal to
+give herself wholly to him, his happiness, in possessing her faithful,
+devoted love, would have been too perfect for this life of trials and
+sorrow.
+
+When supper was over, de Sigognac accompanied Isabelle to the
+threshhold of her own room, and said ere he left her, “Be sure to
+fasten your door securely, my sweet Isabelle, for there are so many
+people about in a great hotel like this that one cannot be too
+careful.”
+
+“You need have no fears for me here, my dear baron,” she replied; “only
+look at this lock, and you will be convinced of that. Why it is strong
+enough for a prison door, and the key turns thrice in it. And here is a
+great thick bolt besides—actually as long as my arm. The window is
+securely barred, and there is no dreadful bull’s eye, or opening of any
+kind in the wall, to make me afraid. Travellers so often have articles
+of value with them that I suppose it is necessary for them to have such
+protections against thieves. Make yourself easy about me, de Sigognac!
+never was the enchanted princess of a fairy tale, shut up in her strong
+tower guarded by dragons, in greater security than am I in this
+fortress of mine.”
+
+“But sometimes it chances that the magic charms and spells, represented
+by these bolts and bars, are insufficient, my beloved Isabelle, and the
+enemy manages to force his way in, despite them all—and the mystic
+signs, phylacteries, and abracadabras into the bargain.”
+
+“Yes; but that is when the princess within secretly favours his
+efforts,” said Isabelle, with a mischievous smile, “and in some
+mysterious way constitutes herself his accomplice; being tired of her
+seclusion, perhaps, or else in love with the bold intruder—neither of
+which is my case you know, de Sigognac! Surely if I’m not afraid—I, who
+am more timid than the trembling doe when she hears the dread sound of
+the hunter’s horn and the baying of the hounds you should not fear—you,
+who are brave as Alexander the Great himself. Sleep in peace to-night,
+my friend, I pray you, and sleep soundly—not with one eye open, as you
+have done so often of late for my sake; and now, good night.”
+
+She held out to him a pretty little hand, white and soft enough to have
+belonged to a veritable princess, which he kissed as reverently as if
+it had been a queen’s; then waited to hear her turn the big, clumsy,
+iron key three times in the lock—no easy task for her delicate
+fingers—and push home the heavy bolt. Breathing a fervent blessing upon
+her, he turned away reluctantly towards his own door. As he paused an
+instant before it he saw a shadow moving, turned round quickly, and
+caught sight of the very man he had been thinking of, and puzzling
+over, so much that evening—whose approach he had not heard at
+all—passing stealthily along the corridor, presumably on his way to his
+own room. Not an extraordinary circumstance, that; but the baron’s
+suspicions were instantly aroused, and under pretext of trying to
+introduce his key into the lock, he furtively watched him the whole
+length of the passage, until a turn in it hid him from view, as he
+gained an unfrequented part of the house; a moment later, the sound of
+a door being softly opened and closed announced that he had probably
+reached his own chamber, and then all was still again.
+
+“Now what does this mean?” said de Sigognac to himself, and haunted by
+a vague feeling of anxiety and uneasiness, he could not even bring
+himself to lie down upon his bed and rest his weary frame; so, after
+pacing restlessly about the room for a while, he concluded to occupy
+himself in writing a letter to his good old Pierre; he had promised to
+apprise him of his arrival in Paris. He was careful that the
+handwriting should be very large, clear, and distinct, for the faithful
+old servant was not much of a scholar, and addressed him as follows:
+
+MY GOOD PIERRE:—Here I am at last, actually in Paris, the great
+capital, where, according to general belief, I am to fall in with some
+sort of good fortune or other, that will enable me to re-establish the
+ancient prosperity of my house—though in truth I cannot see where I am
+to look for it. However, some happy chance may bring me into relations
+with the court, and if I could only get to speak to the king—the great
+dispenser of all favours—the important and famous services rendered by
+my ancestors to his royal predecessors would surely incline him to
+listen to me with indulgence and interest. His gracious majesty could
+not, it seems to me, suffer a noble family, that had devoted all their
+possessions to the service of king and country, in many wars, to die
+out so miserably, if once he knew of it. Meantime, for want of other
+employment, I have taken to acting, and have made a little money
+thereby—part of which I shall send to you, as soon as I can find a good
+opportunity. It would have been better perhaps if I had enlisted as a
+soldier; but I could not give up my liberty, and however
+poverty-stricken a man may be, his pride revolts at the idea of putting
+himself under the orders of those whom his noble ancestors used to
+command. The only adventure worth relating that has befallen me since I
+left you was a duel that I fought at Poitiers, with a certain young
+duke, who is held to be invincible; but, thanks to your good
+instructions, I was able to get the better of him easily. I ran him
+through the right arm, and could just as well have run him through the
+body, and left him dead upon the field, for his defence was weak and
+insufficient—by no means equal to his attack, which was daring and
+brilliant, though very reckless—and several times he was entirely at my
+mercy, as he grew heated and angry. He has not been so thoroughly
+trained to preserve his _sang-froid_, whatever may happen, as I, and I
+now appreciate, for the first time, your wonderful patience and
+perseverance in making me a master of the noble art of fencing, and how
+valuable my proficiency in it will be to me. Your scholar does you
+honour, my brave Pierre, and I won great praise and applause for my
+really too easy victory. In spite of the constant novelty and
+excitement of my new way of life, my thoughts often return to dwell
+upon my poor old château, crumbling gradually into ruin over the tombs
+of my ancestors. From afar it does not seem so desolate and forlorn,
+and there are times when I fancy myself there once more, gazing up at
+the venerable family portraits, wandering through the deserted rooms,
+and I find a sort of melancholy pleasure in it. How I wish that I could
+look into your honest, sunburnt face, lighted up with the glad smile
+that always greeted me—and I am not ashamed to confess that I long to
+hear Beelzebub’s contented purring, Miraut’s joyful bark, and the loud
+whinnying of my poor old Bayard, who never failed to recognise my step.
+Are they all still alive—the good, faithful, affectionate creatures—and
+do they seem to remember me? Have you been able to keep yourself and
+them from starvation thus far? Try to hold out until my return, my good
+Pierre, so as to share my fate—be it bright or dark, happy or sad—that
+we may finish our days together in the place where we have suffered so
+much, yet which is so dear to us all. If I am to be the last of the de
+Sigognacs, I can only say, the will of God be done. There is still a
+vacant place left for me in the vault where my forefathers lie.
+
+“BARON DE SIGOGNAC.”
+
+
+The baron sealed this letter with the ring bearing his family arms,
+which was the only jewel remaining in his possession; directed it, and
+put it into his portfolio, to wait until he should find an opportunity
+to forward it to Gascony. Although by this time it was very late, he
+could still hear the vague roar of the great city, which, like the
+sound of the ocean, never entirely ceases, and was so strange and novel
+to him, in contrast with the profound silence of the country that he
+had been accustomed to all his life long. As he sat listening to it, he
+thought he heard cautious footsteps in the corridor, and extinguishing
+his light, softly opened his door just a very little way, scarcely more
+than a crack—and caught a glimpse of a man, enveloped in a large cloak,
+stealing along slowly in the direction the other one had taken. He
+listened breathlessly until he heard him reach, and quietly enter,
+apparently the same door. A few minutes later, while he was still on
+the lookout, another one came creeping stealthily by, making futile
+efforts to stifle the noise of his creaking boots. His suspicions now
+thoroughly aroused, de Sigognac continued his watch, and in about half
+an hour came yet another—a fierce, villainous looking fellow, and fully
+armed, as every one of his predecessors had been also. This strange
+proceeding seemed very extraordinary and menacing to the baron, and the
+number of the men—four—brought to his mind the night attack upon him in
+the streets of Poitiers, after his quarrel with the Duke of
+Vallombreuse. This recollection was like a ray of light, and it
+instantly flashed upon him that the man he had seen in the kitchen was
+no other than one of those precious rascals, who had been routed so
+ignominiously—and these, without doubt, were his comrades. But how came
+they there? in the very house with him—not by chance surely. They must
+have followed him up to Paris, stage by stage, in disguise, or else
+keeping studiously out of his sight, Evidently the young duke’s
+animosity was still active, as well as his passion, and he had not
+renounced his designs upon either Isabelle or himself. Our hero was
+very brave by nature, and did not feel the least anxiety about his own
+safety trusting to his good sword to defend himself against his
+enemies—but he was very uneasy in regard to his sweet Isabelle, and
+dreaded inexpressibly what might be attempted to gain possession of
+her. Not knowing which one of them the four desperadoes had in view
+now, he determined not to relax his vigilance an instant, and to take
+such precautions as he felt pretty sure would circumvent their plans,
+whatever they might be. He lighted all the candles there were in his
+room—a goodly number—and opened his door, so that they threw a flood of
+light on that of Isabelle’s chamber, which was exactly opposite his
+own. Next he drew his sword, laid it, with his dagger, on a table he
+had drawn out in front of the door, and then sat down beside it, facing
+the corridor, to watch. He waited some time without hearing or seeing
+anything. Two o’clock had rung out from a neighbouring church tower
+when a slight rustling caught his listening ear, and presently one of
+the four rascals—the very man he had first seen—emerged from the shadow
+into the bright light streaming out into the passage from his open
+door. The baron had sprung to his feet at the first sound, and stood
+erect on the threshold, sword in hand, with such a lofty, heroic, and
+triumphant air, that Mérindol—for it was he—passed quickly by, without
+offering to molest him, with a most deprecating, crestfallen
+expression; a laughable contrast to his habitual fierce insolence. His
+three doughty comrades followed in quick succession—but not one of them
+dared to attack de Sigognac, and they slunk out of sight as rapidly as
+possible. He saluted each one with a mocking gesture as he passed, and
+stood tranquilly watching them as long as he could see them. In a few
+minutes he had the satisfaction of hearing the stamping of horses’ feet
+in the court-yard below, then the opening of the outer door to let them
+pass out into the street, and finally a great clattering of hoofs as
+they galloped off down the Rue Dauphine.
+
+At breakfast the next morning the tyrant said to de Sigognac, “Captain,
+doesn’t your curiosity prompt you to go out and look about you a little
+in this great city—one of the finest in the world, and of such high
+renown in history? If it is agreeable to you I will be your guide and
+pilot, for I have been familiar from my youth up with the rocks and
+reefs, the straits and shallows, the scyllas and charybdises of this
+seething ocean, which are often so dangerous—sometimes so fatal—to
+strangers, and more especially to inexperienced country people. I will
+be your Palinurus—but I promise you that I shall not allow myself to be
+caught napping, and so fall overboard, like him that Virgil tells us
+about. We are admirably located here for sight-seeing; the Pont-Neuf,
+which is close at hand, you know, is to Paris what the Sacra Via was to
+ancient Rome—the great resort and rallying place of high and low, great
+and small, noble men, gentlemen, _bourgeois_, working men, rogues and
+vagabonds. Men of every rank and profession under the sun are to be
+found gathered together at this general rendezvous.”
+
+“Your kind proposition pleases me greatly, my good Hérode,” de Sigognac
+replied, “and I accept it with thanks; but be sure to tell Scapin that
+he must remain here, and keep a sharp watch over all who come and go;
+and, above all, that he must not let any one gain access to Isabelle.
+The Duke of Vallombreuse has not given up his designs against her and
+me—I feel very anxious about her safety,” and therewith he recounted
+the occurrences of the preceding night.
+
+“I don’t believe they would dare to attempt anything in broad
+daylight,” said the tyrant; “still it is best to err on the safe side,
+and we will leave Scapin, Blazius and Leander to keep guard over
+Isabelle while we are out. And, by the way, I will take my sword with
+me, too, so that I can be of some assistance in case they should find
+an opportunity to fall upon you in the streets.”
+
+After having made every arrangement for Isabelle’s safety, de Sigognac
+and his companion sallied forth into the Rue Dauphine, and turned
+towards the Pont-Neuf. It was quickly reached, and when they had taken
+a few steps upon it a magnificent view suddenly burst upon them, which
+held the young baron enthralled. In the immediate foreground, on the
+bridge itself, which was not encumbered with a double row of houses,
+like the Pont au Change and the Pont Saint Michel, was the fine
+equestrian statue of that great and good king, Henri IV, rivalling in
+its calm majesty the famous one of Marcus Aurelius, on the Capitoline
+Hill at Rome. A high railing, richly gilded, protected its pedestal
+from injury by mischievous street arabs, and the deep, strong tints of
+the bronze horse and rider stood out vigorously against the appropriate
+background formed by the distant hill-sides beyond the Pont Rouge. On
+the left bank of the river the spire of the venerable old church of
+Saint Germain des Pres pointed upwards from amid the houses that
+completely hemmed it in, and the lofty roof of the unfinished Hôtel de
+Nevers towered conspicuously above all its surroundings. A little
+farther on was the only tower still standing of the famous, and
+infamous, Hôtel de Nesle, its base bathed by the river, and though it
+was in a ruinous condition it still lifted itself up proudly above the
+adjacent buildings. Beyond it lay the marshy Grenouillere, and in the
+blue, hazy distance could be distinguished the three crosses on the
+heights of Calvary, or Mont-Valérien. The palace of the Louvre occupied
+the other bank right royally, lighted up by the brilliant winter
+sunshine, which brought out finely all the marvellous details of its
+rich and elaborate ornamentation. The long gallery connecting it with
+the Tuileries, which enabled the monarch to pass freely from his city
+palace to his country house, especially challenged their admiration;
+with its magnificent sculptures, its historical bas-reliefs and
+ornamented cornices, its fretted stonework, fine columns and pilasters,
+it rivalled the renowned triumphs of the best Greek and Roman
+architects. Beyond the gardens of the Tuileries, where the city ended,
+stood the Porte de la Conférence, and along the river bank, outside of
+it, were the trees of Cours-la-Reine, the favourite promenade of the
+fashionable world, which was thronged of an afternoon with gay and
+luxurious equipages. The two banks, which we have thus hastily
+sketched, framed in the most animated scene imaginable; the river being
+covered with boats of all sorts and descriptions, coming and going,
+crossing and recrossing, while at the quay, beside the Louvre, lay the
+royal barges, rich with carving and gilding, and gay with
+bright-coloured awnings, and near at hand rose the historic towers of
+Saint Germain l’Auxerrois.
+
+After gazing silently for a long time at this splendid view, de
+Sigognac turned away reluctantly at his companion’s instance, and
+joined the little crowd already gathered round the “Samaritan,” waiting
+to see the bronze figure surmounting the odd little hydraulic edifice
+strike the hour with his hammer on the bell of the clock. Meanwhile
+they examined the gilt bronze statue of Christ, standing beside the
+Samaritan, who was leaning on the curb of the well, the astronomic dial
+with its zodiac, the grotesque stone mask pouring out the water drawn
+up from the river below, the stout figure of Hercules supporting the
+whole thing, and the hollow statue, perched on the topmost pinnacle,
+that served as a weathercock, like the Fortune on the Dogana at Venice
+and the Giralda at Seville. As the hands on the clock-face at last
+pointed to ten and twelve respectively, the little chime of bells
+struck up a merry tune, while the bronze man with the hammer raised his
+ponderous arm and deliberately struck ten mighty blows, to the great
+delight of the spectators. This curious and ingenious piece of
+mechanism, which had been cunningly devised by one Lintlaer, a Fleming,
+highly amused and interested de Sigognac, to whom everything of the
+kind was absolutely new and surprising.
+
+“Now,” said Hérode, “we will glance at the view from the other side of
+the bridge, though it is not so magnificent as the one you have already
+seen, and is very much shut in by the buildings on the Pont au Change
+yonder. However, there is the tower of Saint Jacques, the spire of
+Saint Méderic, and others too numerous to mention; and that is the
+Sainte Chapelle—a marvel of beauty, so celebrated, you know, for its
+treasures and relics. All the houses in that direction are new and
+handsome, as you see; when I was a boy I used to play at hop-scotch
+where they now stand. Thanks to the munificence of our kings, Paris is
+being constantly improved and beautified, to the great admiration and
+delight of everybody; more especially of foreigners, who take home
+wondrous tales of its splendour.”
+
+“But what astonishes me,” said de Sigognac, “more even than the
+grandeur and sumptuousness of the buildings, both public and private,
+is the infinite number of people swarming everywhere—in the streets and
+open squares, and on the bridges—like ants when one has broken into an
+ant hill; they are all rushing distractedly about, up and down, back
+and forth, as if life and death depended upon their speed. How strange
+it is to think that every individual in this immense crowd must be
+lodged and fed—and what a prodigious amount of food and wine it must
+take to satisfy them all.”
+
+And indeed, it was not surprising that the great numbers of people,
+moving in every direction, should strike one unaccustomed to the
+crowded thoroughfares of large cities as extraordinary. On the
+Pont-Neuf an unceasing stream of vehicles rolled in each direction—fine
+carriages, richly decorated and gilded, drawn by two or four prancing
+horses, with lackeys in brilliant liveries clinging on behind, and
+stately coachmen on the box; less pretentious carriages with more quiet
+steeds and fewer servants; heavy carts laden with stone, wood, or
+wine-barrels, whose drivers swore loudly at the detentions they were
+frequently obliged to submit to, and which were unavoidable in such a
+crush of vehicles; and among them all, gentlemen on horseback,
+threading their way carefully in and out among the press of carts and
+carriages, and endeavouring to avoid coming in contact with their muddy
+wheels—not always successfully; while here and there a sedan chair
+crept slowly along, keeping upon the edge of the stream, so as not to
+be crushed; and the narrow, raised walk on either side was thronged
+with pedestrians. Presently a drove of cattle made its appearance on
+the bridge, and then the uproar and confusion became terrible indeed;
+horses, as well as foot-passengers, were frightened, and tried to run
+away from danger, requiring all the strength of their drivers to
+restrain them. Soon after that excitement was over a detachment of
+soldiers came marching along, with drums beating and colours flying,
+and everybody had to make way for the valiant sons of Mars, no matter
+at what inconvenience to themselves. And so it went on, one thing after
+another—a constant scene of bustle, hurry, and commotion. As de
+Sigognac and the tyrant strolled slowly along they were beset by
+beggars, more or less impudent and pertinacious, and by all sorts of
+odd characters, plying various extraordinary vocations for the
+amusement of the passers-by, for which they seemed to be liberally
+enough remunerated. Here was an improvisatore, singing, not
+unmelodiously, his rather clever verses; there a blind man, led by a
+stout, jolly-looking old woman, who recited his dolorous history in a
+whining voice, and appealed to the charity of the ever-changing
+multitude; farther on a charlatan, loudly claiming to be able to cure
+“all the ills that flesh is heir to” by his magical compound—and
+finding plenty of dupes; and next to him a man with a monkey, whose
+funny tricks caused much merriment. Suddenly a great tumult arose near
+the other end of the bridge, and in a moment a compact crowd had
+gathered around four men, who, with loud cries and imprecations, were
+fighting with swords—apparently with great fury, though in reality it
+was only a mock combat, probably intended to give a good chance to the
+thieves and pickpockets in the throng, with whom they were in league;
+such tactics being very common, as well as successful. By Hérode’s
+advice, de Sigognac refrained from mingling with the crowd immediately
+around the combatants, so he could not get a very good view of them;
+but he was almost sure that they were the very men he had met first in
+the streets of Poitiers, to their great discomfiture, and had seen
+again the previous night at the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, where they
+certainly had gained no advantage to make up for their former defeat.
+He communicated his suspicions to the tyrant, but the rascals had
+already slipped away, and it would have been as useless to attempt to
+find them in the throng as to look for a needle in a haystack.
+
+“It certainly is possible,” said Hérode, thoughtfully, “that this
+quarrel was gotten up with a view to involving you in it, by some means
+or other, for we are undoubtedly followed and watched by the emissaries
+of the Duke of Vallombreuse. One of the scoundrels might have made
+believe that you were in the way, or that you had struck him, and
+falling upon you suddenly, before you had time to draw your sword, have
+given you a thrust that would have done for you; and if he failed to
+wound you mortally; the others could have pretended to come to their
+comrade’s aid, and have completed the job—nothing would have been
+easier. Then they would have separated, and slipped away through the
+crowd, before any one could interfere with them, or else have stood
+their ground, and declared unanimously that they had been obliged to
+attack you in self defence. It is next to impossible in such cases to
+prove that the act was premeditated, and there is no redress for the
+unhappy victim of such a conspiracy.”
+
+“But I am loath to believe,” said the brave, generous young baron,
+“that any gentleman could be capable of such an utterly base and
+unworthy act as this—what, send a set of hired ruffians to foully
+assassinate his rival! If he is not satisfied with the result of our
+first encounter, I am willing and ready to cross swords with him again
+and again, until one or the other of us is slain. That is the way that
+such matters are arranged among men of honour, my good Hérode!”
+
+“Doubtless,” replied the tyrant, dryly, “but the duke well
+knows—despite his cursed pride—that the result of another meeting with
+you could not but be disastrous to himself. He has tried the strength
+of your blade, and learned by bitter experience that its point is
+sharp. You may be sure that he hates you like the very devil, and will
+not scruple to make use of any means whatever to revenge himself for
+his defeat at your hands.”
+
+“Well, if he does not care to try my sword again, we could fight on
+horseback with pistols. He could not accuse me of having any advantage
+of him there.”
+
+Talking thus the two had reached the Quai de l’Ecole, and there a
+carriage just missed running over de Sigognac, though he did his best
+to get out of its way. As it was, only his extremely slender figure
+saved him from being crushed between it and the wall, so close did it
+come to him—notwithstanding the fact that there was plenty of room on
+the other side, and that the coachman could easily have avoided the
+foot passenger he actually seemed to pursue. The windows of the
+carriage were all closed, and the curtains drawn down, so that it was
+impossible to tell whether it had any inmates or not—but if de Sigognac
+could have peeped within he would have seen, reclining languidly upon
+the luxurious cushions, a handsome young nobleman, richly dressed,
+whose right arm was supported by a black silk scarf, arranged as a
+sling. In spite of the warm red glow from the crimson silk curtains, he
+was very pale, and, though so remarkably handsome, his face wore such
+an expression of hatred and cruelty, that he would have inspired
+dislike, rather than admiration—as he sat there with a fierce frown
+contracting his brow, and savagely gnawing his under lip with his
+gleaming white teeth. In fine, the occupant of the carriage that had so
+nearly run over the Baron de Sigognac was no other than the young Duke
+of Vallombreuse.
+
+“Another failure!” said he to himself, with an oath, as he rolled along
+up the broad quay past the Tuileries. “And yet I promised that stupid
+rascal of a coachman of mine twenty-five _louis_ if he could be adroit
+enough to run afoul of that confounded de Sigognac—who is the bane of
+my life—and drive over him, as if by accident. Decidedly the star of my
+destiny is not in the ascendant—this miserable little rustic lordling
+gets the better of me in everything. Isabelle, sweet Isabelle, adores
+_him_, and detests me—he has beaten my lackeys, and dared to wound
+_me_. But there shall be an end of this sort of thing, and that
+speedily—even though he be invulnerable, and bear a charmed life, he
+must and shall be put out of my way—I swear it! though I should be
+forced to risk my name and my title to compass it.”
+
+“Humph!” said Hérode, drawing a long breath; “why those brutes must be
+of the same breed as the famous horses of that Diomedes, King of
+Thrace, we read of, that pursued men to tear them asunder, and fed upon
+their flesh. But at least you are not hurt, my lord, I trust! That
+coachman saw you perfectly well, and I would be willing to wager all I
+possess in the world that he purposely tried to run over you—he
+deliberately turned his horses towards you—I am sure of it, for I saw
+the whole thing. Did you observe whether there was a coat of arms on
+the panel? As you are a nobleman yourself I suppose you must be
+familiar with the devices of the leading families in France.”
+
+“Yes, I am of course,” answered de Sigognac, “but I was too much
+occupied in getting out of the way of the swift rolling carriage to
+notice whether there was anything of that kind on it or not.”
+
+“That’s a pity,” rejoined the tyrant regretfully, “for if we only knew
+that, we should have a clew that might lead to our discovering the
+truth about this most suspicious affair. It is only too evident that
+some one is trying to put you out of the way, _quibuscumque viis_, as
+the pedant would say. Although we unfortunately have no proof of it, I
+am very much inclined to think that this same carriage belongs to his
+lordship, the Duke of Vallombreuse, who wished to indulge himself in
+the pleasure of driving over the body of his enemy in his chariot, in
+true classical and imperial style.”
+
+“What extraordinary idea have you got into your head now, Sir Hérode?”
+said de Sigognac, rather indignantly. “Come, that would be too infamous
+and villainous a proceeding for any gentleman to be guilty of, and you
+must remember that after all the Duke of Vallombreuse is one, and that
+he belongs to a very high and noble family. Besides, did not we leave
+him in Poitiers, laid up with his wound? How then could he possibly be
+in Paris, when we have only just arrived here ourselves?”
+
+“But didn’t we stop several days at Tours? and again at Orléans? And
+even if his wound were not entirely healed he could easily travel in
+his luxurious carriage, by easy stages, from Poitiers to Paris. His
+hurt was not of a dangerous character, you know, and he is young and
+vigorous. You must be on your guard, my dear captain, unceasingly;
+never relax your vigilance for one moment, for I tell you there are
+those about who seek your life. You once out of the way, Isabelle
+would, be in the duke’s power—for what could we, poor players, do
+against such a great and powerful nobleman? Even if Vallombreuse
+himself be not in Paris—though I am almost positive that he is—his
+emissaries are, as you know, and but for your own courage and
+watchfulness you would have been assassinated in your bed by them last
+night.”
+
+This de Sigognac could not dispute, and he only nodded in token of
+assent, as he grasped the hilt of his sword, so as to be ready to draw
+it at the slightest cause for suspicion or alarm. Meantime they had
+walked on as far as the Porte de la Conférence, and now saw ahead of
+them a great cloud of dust, and through it the glitter of bayonets.
+They stepped aside to let the cavalcade pass, and saw that the soldiers
+preceded the carriage of the king, who was returning from Saint Germain
+to the Louvre. The curtains of the royal vehicle were raised, and the
+glasses let down, so that the people could distinctly see their
+sovereign, Louis XIII, who, pale as a ghost and dressed all in black,
+sat as motionless as an effigy in wax. Long, dark brown hair fell about
+his mournful, ghastly countenance, upon which was depicted the same
+terrible ennui that drove Philip II of Spain, to seclude himself so
+much, during the later years of his life, in the silence and solitude
+of the dreary Escorial. His eyes were fixed on vacancy, and seemed
+utterly lifeless—no desire, no thought, no will lent them light or
+expression. A profound disgust for and weariness of everything in this
+life had relaxed his lower lip, which fell sullenly, in a morose,
+pouting way. His hands, excessively thin and white, lay listlessly upon
+his knees, like those of certain Egyptian idols. And yet, for all,
+there was a truly royal majesty about this mournful figure, which
+personified France, and in whose veins flowed sluggishly the generous
+blood of Henri IV.
+
+The young baron had always thought of the king as a sort of
+supernatural being, exalted above all other men. Glorious and majestic
+in his person, and resplendent in sumptuous raiment, enriched with gold
+and precious stones; and now he saw only this sad, motionless figure,
+clad in dismal black, and apparently unconscious of his surroundings,
+sunk in a profound reverie that none would dare to intrude upon. He had
+dreamed of a gracious, smiling sovereign, showering good gifts upon his
+loyal subjects, and here was an apathetic, inanimate being, who seemed
+capable of no thought for any one but himself. He was sadly
+disappointed, shocked, amazed; and he felt, with a sinking heart, how
+hopeless was his own case. For even should he be able to approach this
+mournful, listless monarch, what sympathy could be expected from him?
+The future looked darker than ever now to this brave young heart.
+Absorbed in these sorrowful reflections he walked silently along beside
+his companion, who suspected his taciturn mood, and did not intrude
+upon it, until, as the hour of noon approached, he suggested that they
+should turn their steps homeward, so as to be in time for the mid-day
+meal. When they reached the hotel they were relieved to find that
+nothing particular had happened during their absence. Isabelle, quietly
+seated at table with the others when they entered, received the baron
+with her usual sweet smile, and held out her little white hand to him.
+The comedians asked many questions about his first experiences in
+Paris, and inquired mischievously whether he had brought his cloak, his
+purse, and his handkerchief home with him, to which de Sigognac
+joyfully answered in the affirmative. In this friendly banter he soon
+forgot his sombre thoughts, and asked himself whether he had not been
+the dupe of a hypochondriac fancy, which could see nothing anywhere but
+plots and conspiracies.
+
+He had not been alarmed without reason however, for his enemies, vexed
+but not discouraged by the failure of their several attempts upon him,
+had by no means renounced their determination to make away with him.
+Mérindol, who was threatened by the duke with being sent back to the
+galleys whence he had rescued him, unless he and his comrades succeeded
+in disposing of the Baron de Sigognac, resolved to invoke the
+assistance of a certain clever rascal of his acquaintance, who had
+never been known to fail in any job of that kind which he undertook. He
+no longer felt himself capable to cope with the baron, and moreover
+now, laboured under the serious disadvantage of being personally known
+to him. He went accordingly to look up his friend, Jacquemin Lampourde
+by name, who lodged not very far from the Pont-Neuf, and was lucky
+enough to find him at home, sleeping off the effects of his last
+carouse. He awoke him with some difficulty, and was violently abused
+for his pains. Then, having quietly waited until his friend’s first
+fury was exhausted, he announced that he had come to consult with him
+on important business, having an excellent job to intrust to him, and
+begging that he would be good enough to listen to what he had to say.
+
+“I never listen to anybody when I am drunk,” said Jacquemin Lampourde,
+majestically, putting his elbow on his knee as he spoke, and resting
+his head on his hand—“and besides, I have plenty of money—any quantity
+of gold pieces. We plundered a rich English lord last night, who was a
+walking cash-box, and I am a gentleman of wealth just at present.
+However, one evening at lansquenet may swallow it all up. I can’t
+resist gambling you know, and I’m deuced unlucky at it, so I will see
+you to-night about this little matter of yours. Meet me at the foot of
+the bronze statue on the Pont-Neuf at midnight. I shall be as fresh and
+bright as a lark by that time, and ready for anything. You shall give
+me your instructions then, and we will agree upon my share of the
+spoils. It should be something handsome, for I have the vanity to
+believe that no one would come and disturb a fellow of my calibre for
+any insignificant piece of business. But after all I am weary of
+playing the thief and pickpocket—it is beneath me—and I mean to devote
+all my energies in future to the noble art of assassination; it is more
+worthy of my undisputed prowess. I would rather be a grand, man-slaying
+lion than any meaner beast of prey. If this is a question of killing I
+am your man—but one thing more, it must be a fellow who will defend
+himself. Our victims are so apt to be cowardly, and give in without a
+struggle—it is no better than sticking a pig—and that I cannot stand,
+it disgusts me. A good manly resistance, the more stubborn the better,
+gives a pleasant zest to the task.”
+
+“You may rest easy on that score,” Mirindol replied, with a malicious
+smile; “you will find a tough customer to handle, I promise you.”
+
+“So much the better,” said Lampourde, “for it is a long time since I
+have found an adversary worth crossing swords with. But enough of this
+for the present. Good-bye to you, and let me finish my nap.”
+
+But he tried in vain to compose himself to sleep again, and, after
+several fruitless efforts, gave it up as a bad job; then began to shake
+a companion, who had slept soundly on the floor under the table during
+the preceding discussion, and when he had succeeded in rousing him,
+both went off to a gaming-house, where lansquenet was in active
+progress. The company was composed of thieves, cut-throats,
+professional bullies, ruffians of every sort, lackeys, and low fellows
+of various callings, and a few well-to-do, unsophisticated _bourgeois_,
+who had been enticed in there—unfortunate pigeons, destined to be
+thoroughly plucked. Lampourde, who played recklessly, had soon lost all
+his boasted wealth, and was left with empty pockets. He took his bad
+luck with the utmost philosophy.
+
+“Ouf!” said he to his companion, when they had gone out into the
+street, and the cool, night air blew refreshingly upon his heated face,
+“here am I rid of my money, and a free man again. It is strange that it
+should always make such a brute of me. It surprises me no longer that
+rich men should invariably be such stupid fools. Now, that I haven’t a
+penny left, I feel as gay as a lark—ready for anything. Brilliant ideas
+buzz about my brain, like bees around the hive. Lampourde’s himself
+again. But there’s the Samaritan striking twelve, and a friend of mine
+must be waiting for me down by the bronze Henri IV, so goodnight.”
+
+He quitted his companion and walked quickly to the rendezvous, where he
+found Mérindol, diligently studying his own shadow in the moonlight;
+and the two ruffians, after looking carefully about them to make sure
+that there was no one within ear-shot, held a long consultation, in
+very low tones. What they said we do not know; but, when Lampourde
+quitted the agent of the Duke of Vallombreuse, he joyously jingled the
+handful of gold pieces in his pocket, with an imprudent audacity that
+showed conclusively how much he was respected by the thieves and cut
+throats who haunted the Pont-Neuf.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+THE CROWNED RADISH
+
+
+Jacquemin Lampourde, after parting company with Mérindol, seemed in
+great uncertainty as to which way he should go, and had not yet decided
+when he reached the end of the Pont-Neuf. He was like the donkey
+between two bundles of hay; or, if that comparison be not pleasing,
+like a piece of iron between two magnets of equal power. On the one
+side was lansquenet, with the fascinating excitement of rapidly winning
+and losing the broad gold pieces that he loved; and on the other the
+tavern, with its tempting array of bottles; for he was a drunkard as
+well as a gambler, this same notorious Jacquemin Lampourde. He stood
+stock still for a while, debating this knotty point with himself, quite
+unable to come to a decision, and growing very much vexed at his own
+hesitation, when suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to him, and,
+plunging his hand into his well-filled pocket, he drew forth a gold
+piece, which he tossed into the air, crying, “Head for the tavern, tail
+for lansquenet.” The coin rang upon the pavement as it fell, and he
+kneeled down to see what fate had decided for him; head was up. “Very
+well,” said he, philosophically, as he picked up the piece of money,
+carefully wiped off the mud, and put it back in his pocket, “I’ll go
+and get drunk.” Then, with long strides, he made off to his favourite
+tavern, which had the advantage of being in the immediate vicinity of
+his own lodgings, so that with a few zigzags he was at home, after he
+had filled himself with wine from the soles of his boots to the apple
+in his throat. It was not an inviting-looking place, this same tavern,
+with the odd device of an enormous radish, bearing a golden crown—now
+rather tarnished—which had served as its sign for many generations of
+wine-drinkers. The heavy wooden shutters were all closed when Lampourde
+reached it; but by the bright light streaming through their crevices,
+and the sounds of song and revelry that reached his ear, he knew that
+there must be a numerous company within. Knocking on the door in a
+peculiar way with the handle of his sword, he made himself known as an
+_habitué_ of the house, and was promptly admitted—the door being
+carefully made fast again the moment he had entered. The large, low
+room into which he made his way was filled with the smoke from many
+pipes, and redolent with the fumes of wine. A cheerful wood fire was
+blazing on the hearth, lighting up the array of bottles in the bar,
+which was placed near it, where the master of the establishment sat
+enthroned, keeping a watchful eye on the noisy crowd gathered round the
+many small tables with which the room abounded, drinking, smoking,
+playing at various games, and singing ribald songs. Lampourde paid no
+attention to the uproarious throng, further than to look about and make
+sure that none of his own particular friends and associates were among
+them. He found an unoccupied table, to which a servant quickly brought
+a bottle of fine old Canary wine, very choice and rare, which was
+reserved for a few privileged and appreciative customers, who could
+afford to indulge in such luxuries. Although he was quite by himself,
+two glasses were placed before him, as his dislike of drinking alone
+was well known, and at any moment a comrade might come in and join him.
+Meantime he slowly filled his glass, raised it to the level of his
+eyes, and looked long and lovingly through the beautiful, clear topaz
+of the generous wine. Having thus satisfied the sense of sight, he
+passed to that of smell, and held the glass under his nostrils, where
+he could enjoy the delicious aroma arising from it, giving the wine a
+rotary motion as he did so, in a very artistic manner; then, putting
+the glass to his lips, he let a few drops trickle slowly down over his
+tongue to his palate, lengthening out the enjoyment as much as
+possible, and approving smack of relish as he at last swallowed the
+smooth nectar. Thus Maître Jacquemin Lampourde managed to gratify three
+of the five senses man is blessed with by means of a single glass of
+wine. He pretended that the other two might also have a share of the
+enjoyment—that of touch by the highly polished surface and swelling
+curves of the wine-glass, and that of hearing by the merry ringing when
+two glasses are clinked together, or by the musical sounds to be
+brought forth from a glass by drawing the moistened finger round and
+round the edge of it. But these are fantastic and paradoxical ideas,
+which only serve to show the vicious refinement of this fastidious
+ruffian. He had been but a few minutes alone when an odd-looking,
+shabbily dressed individual came in, who rejoiced in a remarkably pale
+face, which looked as if it had been chalked, and a nose as red and
+fiery as a live coal; the idea of how many casks of wine and bottles of
+brandy must have been imbibed to bring it to such an intensity of
+erubescence would be enough to terrify the ordinary drinker. This
+singular countenance was like a cheese, with a bright, red cherry stuck
+in the middle of it; and to finish the portrait it would only be
+necessary to add two apple seeds, placed a little obliquely, for the
+eyes, and a wide gash for a mouth. Such was Malartic—the intimate
+friend, the Pylades, the Euryalus, the “fidus Achates” of Jacquemin
+Lampourde; who certainly was not handsome—but his mental and moral
+qualities made up for his little physical disadvantages. Next to
+Lampourde—for whom he professed the most exalted admiration and
+respect—he was accounted the most skillful swordsman in Paris; he was
+always lucky at cards, and could drink to any extent without becoming
+intoxicated. For the rest, he was a man of great delicacy and honour,
+in his way—ready to run any risk to help or support a friend, and
+capable of enduring any amount of torture rather than betray his
+comrades—so that he enjoyed the universal and unbounded esteem of his
+circle.
+
+Malartic went straight to Lampourde’s table, sat down opposite to him,
+silently seized the glass the other had promptly filled, and drained it
+at a single draught; evidently his method differed from his friend’s,
+but that it was equally efficacious his nose bore indisputable witness.
+The two men drank steadily and in silence until they had emptied their
+third bottle, and then called for pipes. When they had puffed away for
+a while, and enveloped themselves in a dense cloud of smoke, they fell
+into conversation, deploring the bad times since the king, his court
+and followers, had all gone to Saint Germain, and comparing notes as to
+their own individual doings since their last meeting. Thus far they had
+paid no attention whatever to the company round them, but now such a
+loud discussion arose over the conditions of a bet between two men
+about some feat that one of them declared he could perform and the
+other pronounced impossible, that they both looked round to see what it
+was all about. A man of lithe, vigorous frame, with a complexion dark
+as a Moor’s, jet-black hair and flashing eyes, was drawing out of his
+red girdle a large, dangerous looking knife, which, when opened, was
+nearly as long as a sword, and called in Valencia, where it was made, a
+_navaja_. He carefully examined and tested the edge and point of this
+formidable weapon, with which he seemed satisfied, said to the man he
+had been disputing with, “I am ready!” then turned and called,
+“Chiquita! Chiquita!”
+
+At the sound of her name a little girl, who had been sleeping, rolled
+up in a cloak, on the floor in a dark corner, rose and came towards
+Agostino—for it was he of course—and, fixing her large dark eyes upon
+his face earnestly, said, “Master, what do you want me to do? I am
+ready to obey you here as everywhere else, because you are so brave,
+and have so many red marks on your _navaja_.”
+
+Chiquita said this rapidly, in a patois which was as unintelligible to
+the Frenchmen around her as German, Hebrew or Chinese. Agostino took
+her by the hand and placed her with her back against the door, telling
+her to keep perfectly still, and the child, accustomed to that sort of
+thing, showed neither alarm nor surprise, but stood quietly, looking
+straight before her with perfect serenity, while Agostino, at the other
+end of the room, standing with one foot advanced, balanced the dread
+_navaja_ in his hand. Suddenly with a quick jerking movement he sent it
+flying through the air, and it struck into the wooden door, just over
+Chiquita’s head. As it darted by, like a flash of lightning, the
+spectators had involuntarily closed their eyes for a second, but the
+fragile child’s long dark eyelashes did not even quiver. The brigand’s
+wonderful skill elicited a loud burst of admiration and applause from
+an audience not easily surprised or pleased, in which even the man who
+had lost his wager joined enthusiastically. Agostino went and drew out
+the knife, which was still vibrating, and returning to his place this
+time sent it in between Chiquita’s arm—which was hanging down by her
+side—and her body; if it had deviated a hair’s breadth it must have
+wounded her. At this everybody cried “Enough!” but Agostino insisted
+upon aiming at the other side as well, so as to prove to them that
+there was no chance about it; that it was purely a matter of skill.
+Again the terrible _navaja_ flew through the air, and went straight to
+the mark, and Chiquita, very much delighted at the applause that
+followed, looked about her proudly, glorying in Agostino’s triumph. She
+still wore Isabelle’s pearl beads round her slender brown neck; in
+other respects was much better dressed than when we first saw her, and
+even had shoes on her tiny feet; they seemed to worry and annoy her
+very much, it is true, but she found them a necessary nuisance on the
+cold Paris pavements, and so had to submit to wearing them with as good
+a grace as she could muster. When Agostino gave her leave to quit her
+position she quietly returned to her corner, rolled herself up anew in
+the large cloak, and fell sound asleep again, while he, after pocketing
+the five _pistoles_ he had won, sat down to finish his measure of cheap
+wine; which he did very slowly, intending to remain where he was as
+long as possible; he had no lodging place yet in Paris, having arrived
+that very evening, and this warm room was far more comfortable than a
+refuge in some convent porch, or under the arch of a bridge perhaps,
+where he had feared that he and Chiquita might have to lie shivering
+all night long.
+
+Quiet being restored, comparatively speaking, Lampourde and Malartic
+resumed their interrupted conversation, and after a few remarks upon
+the strange performance they had just witnessed—in which Lampourde
+especially praised Agostino’s marvellous skill, and Malartic warmly
+commended Chiquita’s wonderful courage and _sang-froid_—the former
+confided to his friend that he had a piece of work in prospect, in
+which he would need some assistance, and desired to have his opinion as
+to which of their comrades would be best suited for his purpose. He
+told him that, in the first place, he was commissioned to despatch a
+certain Captain Fracasse, an actor, who had dared to interfere with the
+love affair of a very great lord. In this, of course, he would not
+require any aid; but he had also to make arrangements for the abduction
+of the lady, a very beautiful young actress, who was beloved by both
+the nobleman and the comedian, and who would be zealously defended by
+the members of the dramatic company to which she belonged; so that he
+should be obliged to resort to some stratagem, and would probably need
+the help of several hands to carry it out—adding that they were sure of
+being well paid, for the young lord was as generous and open handed as
+he was wealthy and determined. Thereupon they fell to discussing the
+respective merits of their numerous friends and acquaintances—gentlemen
+of the same stamp as themselves—and having decided upon four, and
+determined to keep an eye upon Agostino, who seemed a clever rascal and
+might be of use, they called for another bottle of wine. When that was
+finished Jacquemin Lampourde was indisputably drunk, and having loyally
+kept his word, retired, somewhat unsteadily, to his own quarters in a
+high state of maudlin satisfaction, accompanied by his friend Malartic,
+whom he had invited to spend the night with him. By this time—it was
+nearly four o’clock in the morning—the Crowned Radish was almost
+deserted, and the master of the establishment, seeing that there was no
+prospect of further custom, told his servants to rouse up and turn out
+all the sleepers—Agostino and Chiquita among the rest—and his orders
+were promptly executed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+A DOUBLE ATTACK
+
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse was not a man to neglect his love affairs, any
+more than his enemies. If he hated de Sigognac mortally, he felt for
+Isabelle that furious passion which the unattainable is apt to excite
+in a haughty and violent nature like his, that has never met with
+resistance. To get possession of the young actress had become the
+ruling thought of his life. Spoiled by the easy victories he had always
+gained heretofore, in his career of gallantry, his failure in this
+instance was utterly incomprehensible to him, as well as astonishing
+and maddening. He could not understand it. Oftentimes in the midst of a
+conversation, at the theatre, at church, at the court, anywhere and
+everywhere, the thought of it would suddenly rush into his mind,
+sweeping everything before it, overwhelming him afresh with wonder and
+amazement. And indeed it could not be easy for a man who did not
+believe that such an anomaly as a truly virtuous woman ever
+existed—much less a virtuous actress—to understand Isabelle’s firm
+resistance to the suit of such a rich and handsome young nobleman as
+himself. He sometimes wondered whether it could be that after all she
+was only playing a part, and holding back for a while so as to obtain
+more from him in the end—tactics that he knew were not unusual—but the
+indignant, peremptory way in which she had rejected the casket of
+jewels proved conclusively that no such base motives actuated Isabelle.
+All his letters she had returned unopened. All his advances she had
+persistently repulsed; and he was at his wit’s end to know what to do
+next. Finally he concluded to send for old Mme. Léonarde to come and
+talk the matter over with him; he had kept up secret relations with
+her, as it is always well to have a spy in the enemy’s camp. The duke
+received her, when she came in obedience to his summons, in his own
+particular and favoured room, to which she was conducted by a private
+staircase. It was a most dainty and luxurious apartment, fitted up with
+exquisite taste, and hung round with portraits of beautiful
+women—admirably painted by Simon Vouet, a celebrated master of that
+day—representing different mythological characters, and set in richly
+carved oval frames. These were all likenesses of the young duke’s
+various mistresses, each one displaying her own peculiar charms to the
+greatest possible advantage, and having consented to sit for her
+portrait—in a costume and character chosen by the duke—as a special
+favour, without the most remote idea that it was to form part of a
+gallery.
+
+When the duenna had entered and made her best curtsey, the duke
+condescendingly signed to her to be seated, and immediately began to
+question her eagerly about Isabelle—as to whether there were any signs
+yet of her yielding to his suit, and also how matters were progressing
+between her and the detested Captain Fracasse. Although the crafty old
+woman endeavoured to put the best face upon everything, and was very
+diplomatic in her answers to these searching questions, the information
+that she had to give was excessively displeasing to the imperious young
+nobleman, who had much ado to control his temper sufficiently to
+continue the conversation. Before he let her go he begged her to
+suggest some plan by which he could hope to soften the obdurate
+beauty—appealing to her great experience in such intrigues, and
+offering to give her any reward she chose to claim if she would but
+help him to succeed. She had nothing better to propose, however, than
+secretly administering a strong narcotic to Isabelle, and concerting
+some plan to deliver her into his hands while unconscious from the
+effects of it; which even the unscrupulous young duke indignantly
+rejected. Whereupon, fixing her wicked old eyes admiringly upon his
+handsome face, and apparently moved by a sudden inspiration, she said:
+“But why does not your lordship conduct this affair in person? why not
+begin a regular and assiduous courtship in the good old style? You are
+as beautiful as Adonis, my lord duke! You are young, fascinating,
+powerful, wealthy, a favourite at court, rich in everything that is
+pleasing to the weaker sex; and there is not a woman on earth who could
+long hold out against you, if you would condescend, my lord, to plead
+your own cause with her.”
+
+“By Jove! the old woman is right,” said Vallombreuse to himself,
+glancing complacently at the reflection of his own handsome face and
+figure in a full-length mirror opposite to him; “Isabelle may be
+virtuous and cold, but she is not blind, and Nature has not been so
+unkind to me that the sight of me should inspire her with horror. I can
+at least hope to produce the same happy effect as a fine statue or
+picture, which attracts and charms the eye by its symmetry, or its
+beautiful and harmonious colouring. Then, kneeling at her feet, I can
+softly whisper some of those persuasive words that no woman can listen
+to unmoved—accompanied by such passionately ardent looks that the ice
+round her heart will melt under them and vanish quite away. Not one of
+the loftiest, haughtiest ladies at the court has ever been able to
+withstand them—they have thawed the iciest, most immaculate of them
+all; and besides, it surely cannot fail to flatter the pride of this
+disdainful, high-spirited little actress to have a real duke actually
+and openly kneeling at her feet. Yes, I will take the old woman’s
+advice, and pay my court to her so charmingly and perseveringly that I
+shall conquer at last—she will not be able to withstand me, my sweet
+Isabelle. And it will be a miracle indeed if she has a regret left then
+for that cursed de Sigognac; who shall no longer interfere between my
+love and me—that I swear! She will soon forget him in my arms.”
+
+Having dismissed old Mme. Léonarde with a handsome gratuity, the duke
+next summoned his valet, Picard, and held an important consultation
+with him, as to his most becoming costumes, finally deciding upon a
+very rich but comparatively plain one, all of black velvet; whose
+elegant simplicity he thought would be likely to suit Isabelle’s
+fastidious taste better than any more gorgeous array, and in which it
+must be confessed that he looked adorably handsome—his really beautiful
+face and fine figure appearing to the utmost advantage.
+
+His toilet completed, he sent a peremptory order to his coachman to
+have the carriage, with the four bays, ready in a quarter of an hour.
+When Picard had departed on this errand, Vallombreuse began pacing
+slowly to and fro in his chamber, glancing into the mirror each time he
+passed it with a self-satisfied smile. “That proud little minx must be
+deucedly cross-grained and unappreciative,” said he, “if she does not
+perceive how much more worthy I am of her admiration than that shabby
+de Sigognac. Oh, yes! she’ll be sure to come round, in spite of her
+obstinate affectation of such ferocious virtue, and her tiresome,
+Platonic love for her impecunious suitor. Yes, my little beauty, your
+portrait shall figure in one of those oval frames ere long. I think
+I’ll have you painted as chaste Diana, descended from the sky, despite
+her coldness, to lavish sweet kisses on Endymion. You shall take your
+place among those other goddesses, who were as coy and hard to please
+at first as yourself, and who are far greater ladies, my dear, than you
+ever will be. Your fall is at hand, and you must learn, as your betters
+have done before you, that there’s no withstanding the will of a
+Vallombreuse. ‘Frango nec frangor,’ is my motto.”
+
+A servant entered to announce that the carriage awaited his lordship’s
+pleasure, and during the short drive from his own house to the Rue
+Dauphine, the young duke, despite his arrogant assurance, felt his
+heart beating faster than usual as he wondered how Isabelle would
+receive him. When the splendid carriage, with its four prancing horses
+and servants in gorgeous liveries, drove into the courtyard of the
+hotel where the comedians were stopping, the landlord himself, cap in
+hand, rushed out to ask the pleasure of the lordly visitor; but, rapid
+as were his movements, the duke had already alighted before he could
+reach him. He cut short the obsequious host’s obeisances and breathless
+offers of service by an impatient gesture, and said peremptorily:
+
+“Mlle. Isabelle is stopping here. I wish to see her. Is she at home? Do
+not send to announce my visit; only let me have a servant to show me
+the way to her room.”
+
+“My lord, let me have the glory of conducting your lordship myself—such
+an honour is too great for a rascally servant—I myself am not worthy of
+so distinguished a privilege.”
+
+“As you please,” said Vallombreuse, with haughty negligence, “only be
+quick about it. There are people at every window already, staring down
+at me as if I were the Grand Turk in person.”
+
+He followed his guide, who, with many bows and apologies, preceded him
+upstairs, and down a long, narrow corridor with doors on either side,
+like a convent, until they reached Isabelle’s room, where the landlord
+paused, and, bowing lower than ever, asked what name he should have the
+honour of announcing.
+
+“You can go, now,” the duke replied, laying his hand on the door; “I
+will announce myself.”
+
+Isabelle was sitting by the window, diligently studying her part in a
+new play to be shortly put in rehearsal, and, at the moment the Duke of
+Vallombreuse softly entered her chamber, was repeating, in a low voice
+and with closed eyes, the verses she was learning by heart—just as a
+child does its lessons. The light from the window shone full upon her
+beautiful head and face—seen in profile—and her lovely figure, thrown
+back in a negligent attitude full of grace and _abandon_. She made a
+most bewitching picture thus, and with a delicious effect of
+chiaroscuro that would have enchanted an artist—it enthralled the young
+duke.
+
+Supposing that the intruder who entered so quietly was only the
+chambermaid, come to perform some forgotten duty, Isabelle did not
+interrupt her study or look up, but went on composedly with her
+recitation. The duke, who had breathlessly advanced to the centre of
+the room, paused there, and stood motionless, gazing with rapture upon
+her beauty. As he waited for her to open her eyes and become aware of
+his presence, he sank gracefully down upon one knee, holding his hat so
+that its long plume swept the floor, and laying his hand on his heart,
+in an attitude that was slightly theatrical perhaps, but as respectful
+as if he had been kneeling before a queen. Excitement and agitation had
+flushed his pale cheeks a little, his eyes were luminous and full of
+fire, a sweet smile hovered on his rich, red lips, and he had never
+looked more splendidly, irresistibly handsome in his life. At last
+Isabelle moved, raised her eyelids, turned her head, and perceived the
+Duke of Vallombreuse, kneeling within six feet of her. If Perseus had
+suddenly appeared before her, holding up Medusa’s horrid head, the
+effect would have been much the same. She sat like a statue,
+motionless, breathless, as if she had been petrified, or frozen
+stiff—her eyes, dilated with excessive terror, fixed upon his face, her
+lips parted, her throat parched and dry, her tongue paralyzed—unable to
+move or speak. A ghastly pallor overspread her horror-stricken
+countenance, a deathly chill seized upon all her being, and for one
+dreadful moment of supreme anguish she feared that she was going to
+faint quite away; but, by a desperate, prodigious effort of will, she
+recalled her failing senses, that she might not leave herself entirely
+defenceless in the power of her cruel persecutor.
+
+“Can it be possible that I inspire such overwhelming horror in your
+gentle breast, my sweet Isabelle,” said Vallombreuse in his most dulcet
+tones, and without stirring from his position, “that the mere sight of
+me produces an effect like this? Why, a wild beast, crouching to spring
+upon you from his lair, with angry roar and blazing eyeballs, could not
+terrify you more. My presence here may be a little sudden and
+startling, I admit; but you must not be too hard upon one who lives
+only to love and adore you. I knew that I risked your anger when I
+decided to take this step; but I could not exist any longer without a
+sight of you, and I humbly crave your pardon if I have offended you by
+my ardour and devotion. I kneel at your feet, fair lady, a despairing
+and most unhappy suppliant for your grace and favour.”
+
+“Rise, my lord, I beseech you,” said the frightened, trembling girl,
+speaking with great difficulty and in a voice that sounded strange in
+her own ears; “such a position does not become your rank. I am only an
+actress, and my poor attractions do not warrant such homage. Forget
+this fleeting fancy, I pray you, and carry elsewhere the ardour and
+devotion that are wasted upon me, and that so many great and noble
+ladies would be proud and happy to receive and reward.”
+
+“What do I care for other women, be they what they may?” cried
+Vallombreuse impetuously, as he rose in obedience to her request; “it
+is _your_ pride and purity that I adore, _your_ beauty and goodness
+that I worship; your very cruelty is more charming to me than the
+utmost favour of any other woman in the world. Your sweet modesty and
+angelic loveliness have inspired in me a passion that is almost
+delirium, and unless you can learn to love me I shall die—I cannot live
+without you. You need not be afraid of me,” he added, as Isabelle
+recoiled when he made one step forward, and tried to open the window
+with her trembling hands, as if she meant to throw herself out in case
+of his coming any nearer; “see, I will stay where I am. I will not
+touch you, not even the hem of your garment, so great is my respect for
+you, charming Isabelle! I do not ask anything more than that you will
+deign to suffer my presence here a little longer now, and permit me to
+pay my court to you, lay siege to your heart, and wait patiently until
+it surrenders itself to me freely and of its own accord, as it surely
+will. The most respectful lover could not do more.”
+
+“Spare me this useless pursuit, my lord,” pleaded Isabelle, “and I will
+reward you with the warmest gratitude; but love you I cannot, now or
+ever.”
+
+“You have neither father, brother, husband, or affianced lover,”
+persisted Vallombreuse, “to forbid the advances of a gallant gentleman,
+who seeks only to please and serve you. My sincere homage is surely not
+insulting to you; why do you repulse me so? Oh! you do not dream what a
+splendid prospect would open out before you if you would but yield to
+my entreaties. I would surround you with everything that is beautiful
+and dainty, luxurious and rare. I would anticipate your every wish; I
+would devote my whole life to your service. The story of our love
+should be more enchanting, more blissful than that of Love himself with
+his delicious Psyche—not even the gods could rival us. Come, Isabelle,
+do not turn so coldly away from me, do not persevere in this maddening
+silence, nor drive to desperation and desperate deeds a passion that is
+capable of anything, of everything, save renouncing its adored object,
+your own sweet, charming self!”
+
+“But this love, of which any other woman would be justly proud,” said
+Isabelle modestly, “I cannot return or accept; you _must_ believe me,
+my lord, for I mean every word I say, and I shall never swerve from
+this decision. Even if the virtue and purity that I value more highly
+than life itself were not against it, I should still feel myself
+obliged to decline this dangerous honour.”
+
+“Deign to look upon me with favour and indulgence, my sweet Isabelle,”
+continued Vallombreuse, without heeding her words, “and I will make you
+an object of envy to the greatest and noblest ladies in all France. To
+any other woman I should say—take what you please of my treasures—my
+châteaux, my estates, my gold, my jewels—dress your lackeys in liveries
+richer than the court costumes of princes—have your horses shod with
+silver—live as luxuriously as a queen—make even Paris wonder at your
+lavish splendour if you will—though Paris is not easily roused to
+wonder—but I well know that you have a soul far above all such sordid
+temptations as these. They would have no weight with you, my noble
+Isabelle! But there _is_ a glory that may touch you—that of having
+conquered Vallombreuse—of leading him captive behind your chariot
+wheels—of commanding him as your servant, and your slave. Vallombreuse,
+who has never yielded before—who has been the commander, not the
+commanded—and whose proud neck has never yet bowed to wear the fetters
+that so many fair hands have essayed to fasten round it.”
+
+“Such a captive would be too illustrious for my chains,” said Isabelle,
+firmly, “and as I could never consent to accept so much honour at your
+hands, my lord, I pray you to desist, and relieve me of your presence.”
+
+Hitherto the Duke of Vallombreuse had managed to keep his temper under
+control; he had artfully concealed his naturally violent and
+domineering spirit under a feigned mildness and humility, but, at
+Isabelle’s determined and continued—though modest and
+respectful—resistance to his pleading, his anger was rapidly rising to
+boiling point. He felt that there was love—devoted love—for another
+behind her persistent rejection of his suit, and his wrath and jealousy
+augmented each other. Throwing aside all restraint, he advanced towards
+her impetuously—whereat she made another desperate effort to tear open
+the casement. A fierce frown contracted his brow, he gnawed his under
+lip savagely, and his whole face was transformed—if it had been
+beautiful enough for an angel’s before, it was like a demon’s now.
+
+“Why don’t you tell the truth,” he cried, in a loud, angry voice, “and
+say that you are madly in love with that precious rascal, de Sigognac?
+_That_ is the real reason for all this pretended virtue that you
+shamelessly flaunt in men’s faces. What is there about that cursed
+scoundrel, I should like to know, that charms you so? Am I not
+handsomer, of higher rank, younger, richer, as clever, and as much in
+love with you as he can possibly be? aye, and more—ten thousand times
+more.”
+
+“He has at least one quality that you are lacking in, my lord,” said
+Isabelle, with dignity; “he knows how to respect the woman he loves.”
+
+“That’s only because he cares so little about you, my charmer!” cried
+Vallombreuse, suddenly seizing Isabelle, who vainly strove to escape
+from him, in his arms, and straining her violently to his
+breast—despite her frantic struggles, and agonized cry for help. As if
+in response to it, the door was suddenly opened, and the tyrant, making
+the most deprecating gestures and profound bows, entered the room and
+advanced towards Isabelle, who was at once released by Vallombreuse,
+with muttered curses at this most inopportune intrusion.
+
+“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle,” said Hérode, with a furtive glance
+at the duke, “for interrupting you. I did not know that you were in
+such good company; but the hour for rehearsal has struck, and we are
+only waiting for you to begin.”
+
+He had left the door ajar, and an apparently waiting group could be
+discerned without, consisting of the pedant, Scapin, Leander, and
+Zerbine; a reassuring and most welcome sight to poor Isabelle. For one
+instant the duke, in his rage, was tempted to draw his sword, make a
+furious charge upon the intruding _canaille_, and disperse them “_vi et
+armis_”—but a second thought stayed his hand, as he realized that the
+killing or wounding of two or three of these miserable actors would not
+further his suit; and besides, he could not stain his noble hands with
+such vile blood as theirs. So he put force upon himself and restrained
+his rage, and, bowing with icy politeness to Isabelle, who, trembling
+in every limb, had edged nearer to her friends, he made his way out of
+the room; turning, however, at the threshold to say, with peculiar
+emphasis, “Au revoir, mademoiselle!”—a very simple phrase certainly,
+but replete with significance of a very terrible and threatening nature
+from the way in which it was spoken. His face was so expressive of evil
+passions as he said it that Isabelle shuddered, and felt a violent
+spasm of fear pass over her, even though the presence of her companions
+guaranteed her against any further attempts at violence just then. She
+felt the mortal anguish of the fated dove, above which the cruel kite
+is circling swiftly in the air, drawing nearer with every rapid round.
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse regained his carriage, which awaited him in
+the court followed by the obsequious landlord, with much superfluous
+and aggravating ceremony that he would gladly have dispensed with, and
+the next minute the rumble of wheels indicated to Isabelle that her
+dangerous visitor had taken his departure.
+
+Now, to explain the timely interruption that came so opportunely to
+rescue Isabelle from her enemy’s clutches. The arrival of the duke in
+his superb carriage at the hotel in the Rue Dauphine had caused an
+excitement and flutter throughout the whole establishment, which soon
+reached the ears of the tyrant, who, like Isabelle, was busy learning
+his new part in the seclusion of his own room. In the absence of de
+Sigognac, who was detained at the theatre to try on a new costume, the
+worthy tyrant, knowing the duke’s evil intentions, determined to keep a
+close watch over his actions, and having summoned the others, applied
+his ear to the key-hole of Isabelle’s door, and listened attentively to
+all that passed within—holding himself in readiness to interfere at any
+moment, if the duke should venture to offer violence to the defenceless
+girl—and to his prudence and courage it was due that she escaped
+further persecution, on that occasion, from her relentless and
+unscrupulous tormentor.
+
+That day was destined to be an eventful one. It will be remembered that
+Lampourde, the professional assassin, had received from Mérindol—acting
+for the Duke Of Vallombreuse—a commission to put Captain Fracasse
+quietly out of the way, and accordingly that worthy was dodging about
+on the Pont-Neuf, at the hour of sunset, waiting to intercept his
+intended victim, who would necessarily pass that way in returning to
+his hotel. Jacquemin awaited his arrival impatiently, frequently
+breathing on his fingers and rubbing them vigorously, so that they
+should not be quite numb with the cold when the moment for action came,
+and stamping up and down in order to warm his half-frozen feet. The
+weather was extremely cold, and the sun had set behind the Pont Rouge,
+in a heavy mass of blood-red clouds. Twilight was coming on apace, and
+already there were only occasional foot-passengers, or vehicles, to be
+encountered hurrying along the deserted streets.
+
+At last de Sigognac appeared, walking very fast, for a vague anxiety
+about Isabelle had taken possession of him, and he was in haste to get
+back to her. In his hurry and preoccupation he did not notice
+Lampourde, who suddenly approached and laid hold of his cloak, which he
+snatched off, with a quick, strong jerk that broke its fastenings.
+Without stopping to dispute the cloak with his assailant, whom he
+mistook at first for an ordinary foot-pad, de Sigognac instantly drew
+his sword and attacked him. Lampourde, on his side, was ready for him,
+and pleased with the baron’s way of handling his weapon, said to
+himself, though in an audible tone, “Now for a little fun.” Then began
+a contest that would have delighted and astonished a connoisseur in
+fencing—such swift, lightning-like flashing of the blades, as they gave
+and parried cut and thrust—the clashing of the steel, the blue sparks
+that leaped from the contending swords as the fight grew more
+furious—Lampourde keeping up meanwhile an odd running commentary, as
+his wonder and admiration grew momentarily greater and more
+enthusiastic, and he had soon reached an exulting mood. Here at last
+was a “foeman worthy of his steel,” and he could not resist paying a
+tribute to the amazing skill that constantly and easily baffled his
+best efforts, in the shape of such extraordinary and original
+compliments that de Sigognac was mightily amused thereby. As usual, he
+was perfectly cool and self-possessed, keeping control of his temper as
+well as of his sword—though by this time he felt sure that it was
+another agent of the Duke of Vallombreuse’s he had to deal with, and
+that his life, not his cloak, was the matter at stake. At last
+Lampourde, who had begun to entertain an immense respect for his
+valiant opponent, could restrain his curiosity no longer, and eagerly
+asked,
+
+“Would it be indiscreet, sir, to inquire who was your instructor?
+Girolamo, Paraguante, or Cote d’Acier would have reason to be proud of
+such a pupil. Which one of them was it?”
+
+“My only master was an old soldier, Pierre by name,” answered de
+Sigognac, more and more amused at the oddities of the accomplished
+swordsman he was engaged with. “Stay, take that! it is one of his
+favourite strokes.”
+
+“The devil!” cried Lampourde, falling back a step, “I was very nearly
+done for, do you know! The point of your sword actually went through my
+sleeve and touched my arm—I felt the cold steel; luckily for me it was
+not broad daylight—I should have been winged; but you are not
+accustomed, like me, to this dim, uncertain light for such work. All
+the same, it was admirably well done, and Jacquemin Lampourde
+congratulates you upon it, sir! Now, pay attention, to me—I will not
+take any mean advantage of such a glorious foe as you are, and I give
+you fair warning that I am going to try on you my own secret and
+special thrust Captain Fracasse—the crowning glory of my art, the ‘ne
+plus ultra’ of my science—the elixir of my life. It is known only to
+myself, and up to this time has been infallible. I have never failed to
+kill my man with it. If you can parry it I will teach it to you. It is
+my only possession, and I will leave it to you if you survive it;
+otherwise I will take my secret to the grave with me. I have never yet
+found any one capable of executing it, unless indeed it be
+yourself—admirable, incomparable swordsman that you are! It is a joy to
+meet such an one. But suppose we suspend hostilities a moment to take
+breath.”
+
+So saying Jacquemin Lampourde lowered the point of his sword, and de
+Sigognac did the same. They stood eyeing each other for a few moments
+with mutual admiration and curiosity, and then resumed the contest more
+fiercely than ever—each man doing his best, as he had need to do, and
+enjoying it. After a few passes, de Sigognac became aware that his
+adversary was preparing to give the decisive blow, and held himself on
+his guard against a surprise; when it came, delivered with terrible
+force, he parried it so successfully that Lampourde’s sword was broken
+short off in the encounter with his own trusty weapon, leaving only the
+hilt and a few inches of the blade in his hand.
+
+“If you have not got the rest of my sword in your body,” cried
+Lampourde, excitedly, “you are a great man!—a hero!—a god!”
+
+“No,” de Sigognac replied calmly, “it did not touch me; and now, if I
+chose, I could pin you to the wall like a bat; but that would be
+repugnant to me, though you did waylay me to take my life, and besides,
+you have really amused me with your droll sayings.
+
+“Baron,” said Jacquemin Lampourde, calmly, “permit me, I humbly pray
+you, to be henceforth, so long as I live, your devoted admirer, your
+slave, your dog! I was to be paid for killing you—I even received a
+portion of the money in advance, which I have spent. But never mind
+that; I will pay it back, every penny of it, though I must rob some one
+else to do it.”
+
+With these words he picked up de Sigognac’s cloak, and having put it
+carefully, even reverentially, over his shoulders, made him a profound
+obeisance, and departed.
+
+Thus the efforts of the Duke of Vallombreuse, to advance his suit and
+to get rid of his rival, had once more failed ignominiously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+LAMPOURDE’S DELICACY
+
+
+It is easy to imagine the frame of mind in which the Duke of
+Vallombreuse returned home after his repulse by Isabelle, and her
+rescue from his arms by the timely intervention of her friends, the
+comedians. At sight of his face, fairly livid and contorted with
+suppressed rage, his servants trembled and shrunk away from him—as well
+they might—for his natural cruelty was apt to vent itself upon the
+first unhappy dependent that happened to come in his way when his wrath
+was excited. He was not an easy master to serve, even in his most
+genial mood—this haughty, exacting young nobleman—and in his frantic
+fits of anger he was more savage and relentless than a half-starved
+tiger. Upon entering his own house he rushed through it like a
+whirlwind, shutting every door behind him with such a violent bang that
+the very walls shook, and pieces of the gilt mouldings round the panels
+were snapped off, and scattered on the floor. When he reached his own
+room he flung down his hat with such force that it was completely
+flattened, and the feather broken short off. Then, unable to breathe
+freely, he tore open his rich velvet _pourpoint_, as he rushed
+frantically to and fro, without any regard for the superb diamond
+buttons that fastened it, which flew in every direction. The
+exquisitely fine lace ruffles round his neck were reduced to shreds in
+a second, and with a vigorous kick he knocked over a large arm-chair
+that stood in his way, and left it upside down, with its legs in the
+air.
+
+“The impudent little hussy!” he cried, as he continued his frenzied
+walk, like a wild beast in a cage. “I have a great mind to have her
+thrown into prison, there to be well-whipped, and have her hair shaved
+off, before being sent to a lunatic asylum—or better still to some
+strict convent where they take in bad girls who have been forcibly
+rescued from lives of infamy. I could easily manage it. But no, it
+would be worse than useless—persecution would only make her hate me
+more, and would not make her love that cursed de Sigognac a bit less.
+How can I punish her? what on earth shall I do?” and still he paced
+restlessly to and fro, cursing and swearing, and raving like a madman.
+While he was indulging in these transports of rage, without paying any
+attention to how the time was passing, evening drew on, and it was
+rapidly growing dark when his faithful Picard, full of commiseration,
+screwed up his courage to the highest point, and ventured to go softly
+in—though he had not been called, and was disobeying orders—to light
+the candles in his master’s room; thinking that he was quite gloomy
+enough already without being left in darkness as well, and hoping that
+the lights might help to make him more cheerful. They did seem to
+afford him some relief, in that they caused a diversion; for his
+thoughts, which had been all of Isabelle and her cruel repulse of his
+passionate entreaties, suddenly flew to his successful rival, the Baron
+de Sigognac.
+
+“But how is this?” he cried, stopping short in his rapid pacing up and
+down the room. “How comes it that that miserable, degraded wretch has
+not been despatched before this? I gave the most explicit orders about
+it to that good-for-nothing Mérindol. In spite of what Vidalinc says, I
+am convinced that I shall succeed with Isabelle when once that cursed
+lover of hers is out of my way. She will be left entirely at my mercy
+then, and will have to submit to my will and pleasure with the best
+grace she can muster—for I shall not allow any sulking or tears.
+Doubtless she clings so obstinately to that confounded brute in the
+belief that she can induce him to marry her in the end. She means to be
+Mme. la Baronne de Sigognac—the aspiring little actress! That must be
+the reason of all this mighty display of mock modesty, and of her
+venturing to repulse the attentions of a duke, as scornfully, by Jove!
+as if he were a stable-boy. But she shall rue it—the impertinent little
+minx! and I’ll have no mercy shown to the audacious scoundrel who dared
+to disable this right arm of mine. Halloa there! send Mérindol up to me
+instantly, do you hear?”
+
+Picard flew to summon him, and in a few moments the discomfited bully
+made his appearance; pale from abject terror, with teeth chattering and
+limbs trembling, as he was ushered into the dread presence of his angry
+lord. In spite of his efforts to assume the _sang-froid_ he was so far
+from feeling, he staggered like a drunken man, though he had not drank
+enough wine that day to drown a fly, and did not dare to lift his eyes
+to his master’s face.
+
+“Well, you cowardly beast,” said Vallombreuse angrily, how long, pray,
+are you going to stand there speechless, like a stupid fool, with that
+hang-dog air, as if you already had the rope that you so richly deserve
+round your wicked neck? “I only awaited your lordship’s orders,”
+stammered Mérindol, trying to appear at ease, and failing lamentably.
+“My lord duke knows that I am entirely devoted to his service—even to
+being hanged, if it seems good to your lordship.”
+
+“Enough of that cant!” interrupted the duke impatiently. “Didn’t I
+charge you to have that cursed de Sigognac, otherwise Captain Fracasse,
+cleared out of my way? You have not done it—my orders have not been
+obeyed. It is worth while, upon my word, to keep confounded hired
+rascals to do such work for me, at this rate! All that you are good for
+is to stuff yourself in the kitchen, you dastardly beast, and to guzzle
+my good wine from morning until night. But I’ve had enough of this, by
+Jove! and if there is not a change, and that without any further loss
+of time, to the hangman you shall go—do you hear? just as sure as you
+stand there, gaping like a drivelling idiot.”
+
+“My lord duke,” said Mérindol in a trembling voice, “is unjust to his
+faithful servant, who desires nothing but to do his lord’s bidding. But
+this Baron de Sigognac is not to be disposed of so easily as my lord
+believes. Never was there a braver, more fearless man. In our first
+attack on him, at Poitiers, he got the better of us in a most wonderful
+way—we never saw the like of it—and all he had to fight with was a
+dull, rusty sword, not intended for use at all; a theatre sword, just
+for looks. And when we tried to do for him here in Paris, the very
+night he got here, it all came to naught, because he was so watchful,
+and somehow suspected what we were up to, and was ready for us; and
+that upset our beautiful little plan entirely. I never was so surprised
+in my life; and there was nothing for us to do, the whole four of us,
+but to get out of his sight as fast as we could, and he standing there
+laughing at us. Oh! he’s a rare one, is Captain Fracasse. And now he
+knows my face, so I can’t go near him myself. But I have engaged the
+services of a particular friend of mine—the bravest man and the best
+fighter in Paris—he hasn’t his equal in the world with the sword, they
+all say. He is lying in wait for him on the Pont-Neuf now, at this very
+moment, and there’ll be no mistake this time. Lampourde will be sure to
+despatch him for us—if it is not done already—and that without the
+slightest danger of your lordship’s name being mixed up with the affair
+in any way, as it might have been if your lordship’s own servants had
+done it.”
+
+“The plan is not a bad one,” said the young duke, somewhat mollified,
+“and perhaps it is better that it should be done in that way. But are
+you really sure of the courage and skill of this friend of yours? He
+will need both to get the better of that confounded de Sigognac, who is
+no coward, and a master hand with the sword, I am bound to acknowledge,
+though I do hate him like the devil.”
+
+“My lord need have no fears,” said Mérindol enthusiastically, being now
+more at his ease. “Jacquemin Lampourde is a hero, a wonder, as
+everybody will tell your lordship. He is more valiant than Achilles, or
+the great Alexander. He is not spotless certainly, like the Chevalier
+Bayard, but he is fearless.”
+
+Picard, who had been hovering about for a few minutes in an uneasy way,
+now seeing that his master was in a better humour, approached and told
+him that a very odd-looking man was below, who asked to see him
+immediately on most important business.
+
+“You may bring him in,” said the duke, “but just warn him, Picard, that
+if he dares to intrude upon me for any trifling matter, I’ll have him
+skinned alive before I let him go.”
+
+Mirindol was just about leaving the room, when the entrance of the
+newcomer rooted him to the spot; he was so astonished and alarmed that
+he could not move hand or foot. And no wonder, for it was no other than
+the hero whose name he had just spoken—Jacquemin Lampourde in
+person—and the bare fact of his having dared to penetrate so boldly
+into the dread presence of that high and mighty seignior, the Duke of
+Vallombreuse, ignoring entirely the agent through whom his services had
+been engaged, showed of itself that something very extraordinary must
+have taken place.
+
+Lampourde himself did not seem to be in the least disconcerted, and
+after winking at his friend furtively in a very knowing way, stood
+unabashed before the duke, with the bright light of the many wax
+candles shining full upon his face. There was a red mark across his
+forehead, where his hat had been pressed down over it, and great drops
+of sweat stood on it, as if he had been running fast, or exercising
+violently. His eyes, of a bluish gray tint, with a sort of metallic
+lustre in them, were fixed upon those of the haughty young nobleman,
+with a calm insolence that made Mérindol’s blood run cold in his veins;
+his large nose, whose shadow covered all one side of his face, as the
+shadow of Mount Etna covers a considerable portion of the island of
+Sicily, stood out prominently, almost grotesquely, in profile; his
+mustache, with its long stiff points carefully waxed, which produced
+exactly the effect of an iron skewer stuck through his upper lip, and
+the “royal” on his chin curled upward, like a comma turned the wrong
+way, all contributed to make up a very extraordinary physiognomy, such
+as caricaturists dote on. He wore a large scarlet cloak, wrapped
+closely about his erect, vigorous form, and in one hand, which he
+extended towards the duke, he held suspended a well filled purse—a
+strange and mysterious proceeding which Mirindol could by no means
+understand.
+
+“Well, you rascal,” said the duke, after staring for a moment in
+astonishment at this odd-looking specimen, “what does this mean? Are
+you offering alms to me, pray, or what? with your purse there held out
+at arm’s length, apparently for my acceptance.”
+
+“In the first place, my lord duke,” said Lampourde, with perfect
+_sang-froid_ and gravity, “may it not displease your highness, but I am
+not a rascal. My name is Jacquemin Lampourde, and I ply the sword for a
+living. My profession is an honourable one. I have never degraded
+myself by taking part in trade of any kind, or by manual labour.
+Killing is my business, at the risk of my own life and limb—for I
+always do my work alone, unaided, armed only with my trusty sword. Fair
+play is a jewel, and I would scorn to take a mean advantage of anybody.
+I always give warning before I attack a man, and let him have a chance
+to defend himself—having a horror of treachery, and cowardly, sneaking
+ways. What profession could be more noble than mine, pray? I am no
+common, brutal assassin, my lord duke, and I beseech your lordship to
+take back that offensive epithet, which I could never accept, save in a
+friendly, joking way—it outrages too painfully the sensitive delicacy
+of my _amour-propre_, my lord!”
+
+“Very well, so be it, Maître Jacquemin Lampourde, since you desire it,”
+answered Vallombreuse, very much amused at the oddity of his strange
+visitor. “And now have the goodness to explain your business here, with
+a purse in your hand, that you certainly appear to be steadily offering
+to me.”
+
+Jacquemin satisfied by this concession to his susceptibility, suddenly
+jerked his head forward, without bending his body, while he waved the
+hat that he held slowly to and fro, making, according to his ideas, a
+salute that was a judicious mingling of the soldier’s and the
+courtier’s—which ceremony being concluded, he proceeded as follows with
+his explanation:
+
+“Here is the whole thing in a nutshell, my lord duke! I received, from
+Mérindol—acting for your lordship—part payment in advance for
+despatching a certain Baron de Sigognac, commonly called Captain
+Fracasse. On account of circumstances beyond my control, I have not
+been able to finish the job, and as I am a great stickler for honesty,
+and honour also, I have hastened to bring back to you, my lord duke,
+the money that I did not earn.”
+
+With these words he advanced a step, and with a gesture that was not
+devoid of dignity, gently laid the purse down on a beautiful Florentine
+mosaic table, that stood at the duke’s elbow.
+
+“Verily,” said Vallombreuse sneeringly, “we seem to have here one of
+those droll bullies who are good for naught but to figure in a comedy;
+an ass in a lion’s skin, whose roar is nothing worse than a bray. Come,
+my man, own up frankly that you were afraid of that same de Sigognac.”
+
+“Jacquemin Lampourde has never been afraid of anybody in his life,” the
+fighting man replied, drawing himself up haughtily, “and no adversary
+has ever seen his back. Those who know me will tell your lordship that
+easy victories have no charm for me. I love danger and court it. I take
+positive delight in it. I attacked the Baron de Sigognac ‘_secundum
+artem_,’ and with one of my very best swords—made by Alonzo de Sahagun,
+the elder, of Toledo.”
+
+“Well, and what happened then?” said the young duke eagerly. “It would
+seem that you could not have been victorious, since you wish to refund
+this money, which was to pay you for despatching him.”
+
+“First let me inform your highness that in the course of my duels and
+combats, of one sort and another, I have left no less than thirty-seven
+men stretched dead upon the ground—and that without counting in all
+those I have wounded mortally or crippled for life. But this Baron de
+Sigognac intrenched himself within a circle of flashing steel as
+impenetrable as the walls of a granite fortress. I called into
+requisition all the resources of my art against him, and tried in every
+possible way to surprise him off his guard, but he was ready for
+everything—as quick as a flash, as firm as a rock—he parried every
+thrust triumphantly, magnificently, with the most consummate science,
+and a grace and ease I have never seen equalled. He kept me busy
+defending myself too all the time, and more than once had nearly done
+for me. His audacity was astonishing, his _sang-froid_ superb, and his
+perfect mastery over his sword, and his temper, sublime—he was not a
+man, but a god. I could have fallen down and worshipped him. At the
+risk of being spitted on his sword, I prolonged the fight as much as I
+dared, so as to enjoy his marvellous, glorious, unparalleled method to
+the utmost. However, there had to be an end of it, and I thought I was
+sure of despatching him at last by means of a secret I possess—an
+infallible and very difficult thrust, taught and bequeathed to me by
+the great Girolamo of Naples, my beloved master—no man living has a
+knowledge of it but myself—there is no one else left capable of
+executing it to perfection, and upon that depends its success. Well, my
+lord duke, Girolamo himself could not have done it better than I did
+to-night. I was thunderstruck when my opponent did not go down before
+it as if he had been shot. I expected to see him lying dead at my feet.
+But not at all, by Jove! That devil of a Captain Fracasse parried my
+blow with dazzling swiftness, and with such force that my blade was
+broken short off, and I left completely at his mercy, with nothing but
+the stump in my hand. See here, my lord duke! just look what he did to
+my precious, priceless Sahagun.” And Jacquemin Lampourde, with a
+piteous air, drew out and exhibited the sorry remains of his trusty
+sword—almost weeping over it—and calling the duke’s attention to the
+perfectly straight and even break.
+
+“Your highness can see that it was a prodigious blow that snapped this
+steel like a pipe-stem, and it was done with such ease and precision.
+To despatch Captain Fracasse by fair means is beyond my skill, my lord
+duke, and I would scorn to resort to treachery. Like all truly brave
+men, he is generous. I was left entirely defenceless, and he could have
+spitted me like an ortolan just by extending his arm, but he refrained;
+he let me go unscathed. A miraculous display of delicacy, as well as
+chivalrous generosity, from a gentleman assaulted in the gloaming on
+the Pont-Neuf. I owe my life to him, and moreover, such a debt of
+gratitude as I shall never be able to repay. I cannot undertake
+anything more against him, my lord duke; henceforth he is sacred to me.
+Besides, it would be a pity to destroy such a swordsman—good ones are
+rare in these degenerate days, and growing more so every year. I don’t
+believe he has his equal on earth. Most men handle a sword as if it
+were a broomstick nowadays, and then expect to be praised and
+applauded, the clumsy, stupid fools! Now, I have given my reasons for
+coming to inform your highness that I must resign the commission I had
+accepted. As for the money there, I might perhaps have been justified
+in keeping it, to indemnify me for the great risk and peril I incurred,
+but such a questionable proceeding would be repugnant to my tender
+conscience and my honest pride, as your highness can understand.”
+
+“In the name of all the devils in the infernal regions, take back your
+money!” cried Vallombreuse impetuously, “or I will have you pitched out
+of the window yonder, you and your money both. I never heard of such a
+scrupulous scoundrel in my life. You, Mérindol, and your cursed crew,
+have not a spark of honour or honesty among you all; far enough from
+it.” Then perceiving that Lampourde hesitated about picking up the
+purse, he added, “Take it, I tell you! I give it to you to drink my
+health with.”
+
+“In that, my lord duke, you shall be religiously obeyed,” Lampourde
+replied joyfully; “however, I do not suppose that your highness will
+object to my dedicating part of it to lansquenet.” And he stretched out
+his long arm, seized the purse, and with one dexterous movement, like a
+juggler, chucked it jingling into the depths of his pocket.
+
+“It is understood then, my lord duke, that I retire from the affair so
+far as the Baron de Sigognac is concerned,” continued Lampourde, “but,
+if agreeable to your highness, it will be taken in hand by my ‘_alter
+ego_,’ the Chevalier Malartic, who is worthy to be intrusted with the
+most delicate and hazardous enterprises, because of his remarkable
+adroitness and superior ability, and he is one of the best fellows in
+the world into the bargain. I had sketched out a scheme for the
+abduction of the young actress, in whom your highness condescends to
+take an interest, which Malartic will now carry out, with all the
+wonderful perfection of detail that characterizes his clever way of
+doing things. Mérindol here, who knows him, will testify to his rare
+qualifications, my lord duke, and you could not find a better man for
+your purpose. I am presenting a real treasure to your lordship in
+tendering Malartic’s services. When he is wanted your highness has only
+to send a trusty messenger to mark a cross in chalk on the left-hand
+door-post of the Crowned Radish. Malartic will understand, and repair
+at once, in proper disguise, to this house, to receive your lordship’s
+last orders.”
+
+Having finished this triumphant address, Maître Jacquemin Lampourde
+again saluted the duke as before, then put his hat on his head and
+stalked majestically out of the room, exceedingly well satisfied with
+his own eloquence, and what he considered courtly grace, in the
+presence of so illustrious a nobleman. His oddity and originality,
+together with his strange mingling of lofty notions of honour and
+rascality, had greatly amused and interested the young Duke of
+Vallombreuse, who was even willing to forgive him for not having
+despatched de Sigognac; for, if even this famous professional duellist
+could not get the better of him, he really must be invincible, and in
+consequence the thought of his own defeat became less galling and
+intolerable to his pride and vanity. Moreover, he had not been able to
+get rid of an uncomfortable consciousness, even in his most angry mood,
+that his endeavouring to compass de Sigognac’s assassination was rather
+too great an enormity, not on account of any conscientious scruples,
+but simply because his rival was a gentleman; he would not have
+hesitated a second about having half-a-dozen _bourgeois_ murdered, if
+they had been rash or unfortunate enough to interfere with him, the
+blood of such base, ignoble creature being of no more consequence in
+his eyes than so much water. Vallombreuse would have liked to despatch
+his enemy himself in honourable combat, but that was rendered
+impossible by the baron’s superior ability as a swordsman, of which he
+still had a painful reminder in his wounded arm; which was scarcely
+healed yet, and would prevent his indulging in anything like a duel for
+some time to come. So his thoughts turned to the abduction of the young
+actress; a pleasanter subject to dwell upon, as he felt not the
+slightest doubt that once he had her to himself, separated from de
+Sigognac and her companions, she would not long be able to withstand
+his eloquent pleading and personal attractions. His self-conceit was
+boundless, but not much to be wondered at, considering his invariable
+and triumphant success in affairs of gallantry; so, in spite of his
+recent repulse, he flattered himself that he only required a fitting
+opportunity to obtain from Isabelle all that he desired.
+
+“Let me have her for a few days in some secluded place,” said he to
+himself, “where she cannot escape from me, or have any intercourse with
+her friends, and I shall be sure to win her heart. I shall be so kind
+and good and considerate to her, treat her with so much delicacy and
+devotion, that she cannot help feeling grateful to me; and then the
+transition to love will be easy and natural. But when once I have won
+her, made her wholly mine, then she shall pay dearly for what she has
+made me suffer. Yes, my lady, I mean to have my revenge—you may rest
+assured of that.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+MALARTIC AT WORK
+
+
+If the Duke of Vallombreuse had been furious after his unsuccessful
+visit to Isabelle, the Baron de Sigognac was not less so, when, upon
+his return that evening, he learned what had taken place during his
+absence. The tyrant and Blazius were almost obliged to use force to
+prevent his rushing off, without losing a minute, to challenge the duke
+to mortal combat—a challenge sure to be refused; for de Sigognac, being
+neither the brother nor husband of the injured fair one, had no earthly
+right to call any other gentleman to account for his conduct towards
+her; in France all men are at liberty to pay their court to every
+pretty woman.
+
+As to the attack upon the baron on the Pont-Neuf, there could be no
+doubt that it was instigated by the Duke of Vallombreuse; but how to
+prove it? that was the difficulty. And even supposing it could be
+proved, what good would that do? In the eyes of the world the Baron de
+Sigognac, who carefully concealed his real rank, was only Captain
+Fracasse, a low play-actor, upon whom a great noble, like the Duke of
+Vallombreuse, had a perfect right to inflict a beating, imprisonment,
+or even assassination, if it so pleased him; and that without incurring
+the blame, or serious disapproval, of his friends and equals.
+
+So far as Isabelle was concerned, if the affair were made public,
+nobody would believe that she was really pure and virtuous—the very
+fact of her being an actress was enough to condemn her—for her sake it
+was important to keep the matter secret if possible. So there was
+positively no means of calling their enemy to account for his flagrant
+misdeeds, though de Sigognac, who was almost beside himself with rage
+and indignation, and burning to avenge Isabelle’s wrongs and his own,
+swore that he would punish him, even if he had to move heaven and earth
+to compass it. Yet, when he became a little calmer, he could not but
+acknowledge that Hérode and Blazius were right in advising that they
+should all remain perfectly quiet, and feign the most absolute
+indifference; but at the same time keep their eyes and ears very wide
+open, and be unceasingly on their guard against artful surprises, since
+it was only too evident that the vindictive young duke, who was
+handsome as a god and wicked as the devil, did not intend to abandon
+his designs upon them; although thus far he had failed ignominiously in
+everything he had undertaken against them.
+
+A gentle, loving remonstrance from Isabelle, as she held de Sigognac’s
+hands, all hot and trembling with suppressed rage, between her own
+soft, cool palms, and caressingly interlaced her slender white fingers
+with his, did more to pacify him than all the rest, and he finally
+yielded to her persuasions; promising to keep quiet himself, and allow,
+things to go on just as usual.
+
+Meantime the representations of the troupe had met with splendid
+success. Isabelle’s modest grace and refined beauty, Serafina’s more
+brilliant charms, the _soubrette’s_ sparkling vivacity and bewitching
+coquetry, the superb extravagances of Captain Fracasse, the tyrant’s
+majestic mien, Leander’s manly beauty, the grotesque good humour of the
+pedant, Scapin’s spicy deviltries, and the duenna’s perfect acting had
+taken Paris by storm, and their highest hopes were likely to be
+realized. Having triumphantly won the approbation of the Parisians,
+nothing was wanting but to gain also that of the court, then at Saint
+Germain, and a rumour had reached their ears that they were shortly to
+be summoned thither; for it was asserted that the king, having heard
+such favourable reports of them, had expressed a desire to see them
+himself. Whereas Hérode, in his character of treasurer, greatly
+rejoiced, and all felt a pleasant excitement at the prospect of so
+distinguished an honour. Meanwhile the troupe was often in requisition
+to give private representations at the houses of various people of rank
+and wealth in Paris, and it quickly became the fashion among them to
+offer this very popular style of entertainment to their guests.
+
+Thus it befell that the tyrant, being perfectly accustomed to that sort
+of thing, was not at all surprised, or suspicious of evil, when one
+fine morning a stranger, of most venerable and dignified mien,
+presented himself at the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, and asked to speak
+with him on business. He appeared to be the major-domo, or steward, of
+some great nobleman’s establishment, and, in effect, announced to
+Hérode that he had been sent to consult with him, as manager of the
+troupe, by his master, the Comte de Pommereuil.
+
+This highly respectable old functionary was richly dressed in black
+velvet, and had a heavy gold chain round his neck. His face was
+slightly sunburnt; the wavy hair that fell upon his shoulders, his
+thick, bushy eyebrows, heavy mustache, and long, sweeping beard were
+all white as snow. He had the most patriarchal, benevolent air
+imaginable, and a very gentle, yet dignified manner. The tyrant could
+not help admiring him very much, as he said, courteously, “Are you,
+sir, the famous Hérode I am in quest of, who rules with a hand as firm
+as Apollo’s the excellent company of comedians now playing in Paris?
+Their renown has gone abroad, beyond the walls of the city, and
+penetrated even to my master’s ears, on his estate out in the country.”
+
+“Yes, I have the honour to be the man you seek,” the tyrant answered,
+bowing very graciously.
+
+“The Comte de Pommereuil greatly desires to have you give one of your
+celebrated representations at his château, where guests of high rank
+are sojourning at this moment, and I have come to ascertain whether it
+will be possible for you to do so. The distance is not very
+considerable, only a few leagues. The comte, my master, is a very great
+and generous seignior, who is prepared to reward your illustrious
+company munificently for their trouble, and will do everything in his
+power to make them comfortable while they are under his roof.”
+
+“I will gladly do all that I can to please your noble master,” the
+tyrant replied, “though it will be a little difficult for us to leave
+Paris at present, just in the height of the season; even if it be only
+for a short absence.”
+
+“Three days would suffice for this expedition,” said the venerable
+major-domo persuasively; “one for the journey, the second for the
+representation, and the third for the return to Paris. There is a
+capital theatre at the château, furnished with everything that is
+requisite, so that you need not be encumbered with much luggage—nothing
+beyond your costumes. Here is a purse containing a hundred _pistoles_
+that the Comte de Pommereuil charged me to put into your hands, to
+defray the expenses of the journey. You will receive as much more
+before you return, and there will be handsome presents for the
+actresses forthcoming, of valuable jewels, as souvenirs of the
+occasion.”
+
+After a momentary hesitation, the tyrant accepted the well-filled purse
+tendered to him, and, with a gesture of acquiescence, put it into his
+pocket.
+
+“I am to understand then that you accept, and I may tell my master that
+you will give a representation at the château, as he desires?”
+
+“Yes, I place myself and my company at his disposition,” Hérode said,
+smilingly. “And now let me know what day you want us to go, and which
+of our pieces your master prefers.”
+
+“Thursday is the day my master designated; as for selecting the play,
+that he leaves to your own good taste and discretion.”
+
+“Very well; and now you have only to give me directions as to the road
+we must take to reach the château. Be as explicit as you can, I pray
+you, so that there may be no danger of our going astray.”
+
+The agent of the Comte de Pommereuil accordingly gave the most minute
+and exact directions possible, but ended by saying, “Never mind, you
+need not burden your memory with all these troublesome details! I will
+send you a lackey to serve as guide.”
+
+Matters being thus satisfactorily arranged, the charming old major-domo
+took leave of Hérode, who accompanied him down the stairs and across
+the court to the outer door of the hotel, and departed, looking back to
+exchange a last polite sign of farewell ere he turned the corner of the
+street. If the honest tyrant could have seen him as he walked briskly
+away, the moment he was safely out of sight, he would have been
+astonished at the way the broad, stooping shoulders straightened
+themselves up, and at the rapid, vigorous step that succeeded to the
+slow, rather infirm gait of his venerable visitor—but these things our
+worthy Hérode neither saw nor suspected.
+
+On Wednesday morning, as the comedians were finishing the packing of
+their chariot, which stood ready for departure in the courtyard of the
+hotel, with a pair of fine spirited horses before it that the tyrant
+had hired for the journey, a tall, rather fierce-looking lackey,
+dressed in a neat livery and mounted on a stout pony, presented himself
+at the outer door, cracking his whip vigorously, and announcing himself
+as the guide, sent according to promise by the considerate major-domo,
+to conduct them to the Château de Pommereuil.
+
+Eight clear strokes rang out from the Samaritan just as the heavy
+vehicle emerged into the Rue Dauphine, and our company of players set
+forth on their ill-fated expedition. In less than half an hour they had
+left the Porte Saint Antoine and the Bastile behind them, passed
+through the thickly settled _faubourg_ and gained the open country;
+advancing towards Vincennes, which they could distinguish in the
+distance, with its massive keep partially veiled by a delicate blue
+mist, that was rapidly dispersing under the influence of the bright,
+morning sunshine. As the horses were fresh, and travelled at a good
+pace, they soon came up with the ancient fortress—which was still
+formidable in appearance, though it could not have offered any adequate
+resistance to the projectiles of modern artillery. The gilded crescents
+on the minarets of the chapel built by Pierre de Montereau shone out
+brightly, as if joyous at finding themselves in such close proximity to
+the cross—the sign of redemption. After pausing a few minutes to admire
+this monument of the ancient splendour of our kings, the travellers
+entered the forest, where, amid the dense growth of younger trees,
+stood a few majestic old oaks—contemporaries doubtless of the one under
+which Saint Louis, that king of blessed memory, used to sit and
+dispense justice to his loyal subjects in person—a most becoming and
+laudable occupation for a monarch.
+
+The road was so little used that it was grass-grown in many places, and
+the chariot rolled so smoothly and noiselessly along over it that they
+occasionally surprised a party of rabbits frolicking merrily together,
+and were very much amused to see them scamper away, in as great a hurry
+as if the hounds were at their heels. Farther on a frightened deer
+bounded across the road in front of them, and they could watch its
+swift, graceful flight for some distance amid the leafless trees. The
+young baron was especially interested in all these things, being
+country-bred, and it was a delight unspeakable to him to see the
+fields, the hedgerows, the forest, and the wild creatures of the wood
+once more. It was a pleasure he had been deprived of ever since he had
+frequented cities and towns, where there is nothing to look at but
+dingy houses, muddy streets and smoky chimneys—the works of man not of
+God. He would have pined in them for the fresh country air if he had
+not had the sweet companionship of the lovely woman he adored; in whose
+deep, blue eyes he saw a whole heaven of bliss.
+
+Upon emerging from the wood the road wound up a steep hill-side, so the
+horses were stopped, to rest a few minutes before beginning the ascent,
+and de Sigognac, profiting by the opportunity thus afforded him, said
+to Isabelle, “Dear heart, will you get down and walk a little way with
+me? You will find it a pleasant change and rest after sitting still in
+the chariot so long. The road is smooth and dry, and the sunshine
+deliciously warm—do come!”
+
+Isabelle joyfully acceded to this request, and putting her hand into
+the one extended to help her, jumped lightly down. It was a welcome
+means of according an innocent tête-à-tête to her devoted lover, and
+both felt as if they were treading on air, they were so happy to find
+themselves alone together, as, arm in arm, they walked briskly forward,
+until they were out of sight of their companions. Then they paused to
+look long and lovingly into each other’s eyes, and de Sigognac began
+again to pour out to Isabelle “the old, old story,” that she was never
+weary of hearing, but found more heavenly sweet at every telling. They
+were like the first pair of mortal lovers in Paradise, entirely
+sufficient to and happy in each other. Yet even then Isabelle gently
+checked the passionate utterances of her faithful suitor, and strove to
+moderate his rapturous transports, though their very fervour made her
+heart rejoice, and brought a bright flush to her cheeks and a happy
+light to her eyes that rendered her more adorably beautiful than ever.
+
+“Whatever you may do or say, my darling,” he answered, with a sweet,
+tender smile, “you will never be able to tire out my constancy. If need
+be, I will wait for you until all your scruples shall have vanished of
+themselves—though it be not till these beautiful, soft brown tresses,
+with their exquisite tinge of gold where the sun shines on them, shall
+have turned to silver.”
+
+“Oh!” cried Isabelle, “I shall be so old and so ugly then that even
+your sublime courage will be daunted, and I fear that in rewarding your
+perseverance and fidelity by the gift of myself I should only be
+punishing my devoted knight and brave champion.”
+
+“You will never be ugly, my beloved Isabelle, if you live to be a
+hundred,” he replied, with an adoring glance, “for yours is not the
+mere physical beauty, that fades away and vanishes—it is the beauty of
+the soul, which is immortal.”
+
+“All the same you would be badly off,” rejoined Isabelle, “if I were to
+take you at your word, and promise to be yours when I was old and gray.
+But enough of this jesting,” she continued gravely, “let us be serious!
+You know my resolution, de Sigognac, so try to content yourself with
+being the object of the deepest, truest, most devoted love that was
+ever yet bestowed on mortal man since hearts began to beat in this
+strange world of ours.”
+
+“Such a charming avowal ought to satisfy me, I admit, but it does not!
+My love for you is infinite—it can brook no bounds—it is ever
+increasing—rising higher and higher, despite your heavenly voice, that
+bids it keep within the limits you have fixed for it.”
+
+“Do not talk so, de Sigognac! you vex me by such extravagances,” said
+Isabelle, with a little pout that was as charming as her sweetest
+smile; for in spite of herself her heart beat high with joy at these
+fervent protestations of a love that no coldness could repel, no
+remonstrance diminish.
+
+They walked on a little way in silence—de Sigognac not daring to say
+more then, lest he should seriously displease the sweet creature he
+loved better than his own life. Suddenly she drew her arm out of his,
+and with an exclamation of delight, sprang to a little bank by the
+road-side, where she had spied a tiny violet, peeping out from amid the
+dead leaves that had lain there all the winter through—the first
+harbinger of spring, smiling up at her a friendly greeting, despite the
+wintry cold of February. She knelt down and gently cleared away the dry
+leaves and grass about it, carefully broke the frail little stem, and
+returned to de Sigognac’s side with her treasure—more delighted than if
+she had found a precious jewel lying hidden among the mosses.
+
+“Only see, how exquisitely beautiful and delicate it is”—said she,
+showing it to him—“with its dear little petals scarcely unrolled yet to
+return the greeting of this bright, warm sunshine, that has roused it
+from its long winter sleep.”
+
+“It was not the sunshine, however bright and warm,” answered de
+Sigognac, “but the light of your eyes, sweet Isabelle, that made it
+open out to greet you—and it is exactly the colour too of those dear
+eyes of yours.”
+
+“It has scarcely any fragrance, but that is because it’s so cold,” said
+Isabelle, loosening her scarf, and putting it carefully inside the ruff
+that encircled her slender, white neck. In a few minutes she took it
+out again, inhaled its rich perfume, pressed it furtively to her lips,
+and offered it to de Sigognac.
+
+“See how sweet it is now! The warmth I imparted to it has reassured the
+little modest, timid blossom, and it breathes out its incomparable
+fragrance in gratitude to me.”
+
+“Say rather that it has received it from you,” he replied, raising the
+violet tenderly to his lips, and taking from it the kiss Isabelle had
+bestowed—“for this delicate, delicious odour has nothing gross or
+earthly about it—it is angelically pure and sweet, like yourself, my
+own Isabelle.”
+
+“Ah! the naughty flatterer,” said she, smiling upon him with all her
+heart in her eyes. “I give him a little flower that he may enjoy its
+perfume, and straightway he draws from it inspiration for all sorts of
+high-flown conceits, and fine compliments. There’s no doing anything
+with him—to the simplest, most commonplace remark he replies with a
+poetical flight of fancy.”
+
+However, she could not have been very seriously displeased, for she
+took his arm again, and even leaned upon it rather more heavily than
+the exigencies of the way actually required; which goes to prove that
+the purest virtue is not insensible to pretty compliments, and that
+modesty itself knows how to recompense delicate flattery.
+
+Not far from the road they were travelling stood a small group of
+thatched cottages—scarcely more than huts—whose inhabitants were all
+afield at their work, excepting a poor blind man, attended by a little
+ragged boy, who sat on a stone by the wayside, apparently to solicit
+alms from those who passed by. Although he seemed to be extremely aged
+and feeble, he was chanting a sort of lament over his misfortunes, and
+an appeal to the charity of travellers, in a loud, whining, yet
+vigorous voice; promising his prayers to those who gave him of their
+substance, and assuring them that they should surely go to Paradise as
+a reward for their generosity. For some time before they came up with
+him, Isabelle and de Sigognac had heard his doleful chant—much to the
+annoyance of the latter; for when one is listening, entranced, to the
+sweet singing of the nightingale, it is sorely vexatious to be intruded
+upon by the discordant croaking of a raven. As they drew near to the
+poor old blind man, they saw his little attendant bend down and whisper
+in his ear, whereupon he redoubled his groans and supplications—at the
+same time holding out towards them a small wooden bowl, in which were a
+few coppers, and shaking it, so as to make them rattle as loudly as
+possible, to attract their attention. He was a venerable looking old
+man, with a long white beard, and seemed to be shivering with cold,
+despite the great, thick, woollen cloak in which he was wrapped. The
+child, a wild-looking little creature, whose scanty, tattered clothing
+was but a poor protection against the stinging cold, shrunk timidly
+from notice, and tried to hide himself behind his aged charge.
+Isabelle’s tender heart was moved to pity at the sight of so much
+misery, and she stopped in front of the forlorn little group while she
+searched in her pocket for her purse—not finding it there she turned to
+her companion and asked him to lend her a little money for the poor old
+blind beggar, which the baron hastened to do—though he was thoroughly
+out of patience with his whining jeremiads—and, to prevent Isabelle’s
+coming in actual contact with him, stepped forward himself to deposit
+the coins in his wooden bowl. Thereupon, instead of tearfully thanking
+his benefactor and invoking blessings upon his head, after the usual
+fashion of such gentry, the blind man—to Isabelle’s inexpressible
+alarm—suddenly sprang to his feet, and straightening himself up with a
+jerk, opened his arms wide, as a vulture spreads its wings for flight,
+gathered up his ample cloak about his shoulders with lightning rapidity
+and flung it from him with a quick, sweeping motion like that with
+which the fisherman casts his net. The huge, heavy mantle spread itself
+out like a dense cloud directly above de Sigognac, and falling over and
+about him enveloped him from head to foot in its long, clinging folds,
+held firmly down by the lead with which its edges were weighted—making
+him a helpless prisoner—depriving him at once of sight and breath, and
+of the use of his hands and feet. The young actress, wild with terror,
+turned to fly and call for help, but before she could stir, or utter a
+sound, a hand was clapped over her mouth, and she felt herself lifted
+from the ground. The old blind beggar, who, as by a miracle, had
+suddenly become young and active, and possessed of all his faculties,
+had seized her by the shoulders, while the boy took her by the feet,
+and they carried her swiftly and silently round a clump of bushes near
+by to where a man on horseback and masked, was waiting for them. Two
+other men, also mounted and masked, and armed to the teeth, were
+standing close at hand, behind a wall that prevented their being seen
+from the road. Poor Isabelle, nearly fainting with fright, was lifted
+up in front of the first horseman, and seated on a cloak folded so as
+to serve for a cushion; a broad leather strap being passed round her
+waist, which also encircled that of the rider, to hold her securely in
+her place. All this was done with great rapidity and dexterity, as if
+her captors were accustomed to such manœuvres, and then the horseman,
+who held her firmly with one hand, shook his bridle with the other,
+drove his spurs into the horse’s sides, and was off like a flash—the
+whole thing being done in less time than it takes to describe it.
+Meanwhile de Sigognac was struggling fiercely and wildly under the
+heavy cloak that enveloped him—like a gladiator entangled in his
+adversary’s net—beside himself with rage and despair, as he gasped for
+breath in his stifling prison, and realized that this diabolical
+outrage must be the work of the Duke of Vallombreuse. Suddenly, like an
+inspiration, the thought flashed into his mind of using his dagger to
+free himself from the thick, clinging folds, that weighed him down like
+the leaden cloaks of the wretched condemned spirits we read of with a
+shudder in Dante’s Inferno. With two or three strong, quick strokes he
+succeeded in cutting through it, and casting it from him, with a fierce
+imprecation, perceived Isabelle’s abductors, still near at hand,
+galloping across a neighbouring field, and apparently making for a
+thick grove at a considerable distance from where he was standing. As
+to the blind beggar and the child, they had disappeared—probably hiding
+somewhere near by—but de Sigognac did not waste a second thought on
+them; throwing off his own cloak, lest it should impede him, he started
+swiftly in pursuit of the flying enemy and their fair prize, with fury
+and despair in his heart. He was agile and vigorous, lithe of frame,
+fleet of foot, the very figure for a runner, and he quickly began to
+gain on the horsemen. As soon as they became aware of this one of them
+drew a pistol from his girdle and fired at their pursuer, but missed
+him; whereupon de Sigognac, bounding rapidly from side to side as he
+ran, made it impossible for them to take aim at him, and effectually
+prevented their arresting his course in that way. The man who had
+Isabelle in front of him tried to ride on in advance, and leave the
+other two to deal with the baron, but the young actress struggled so
+violently on the horse’s neck, and kept clutching so persistently at
+the bridle, that his rider could not urge him to his greatest speed.
+Meantime de Sigognac was steadily gaining upon them; without slackening
+his pace he had managed to draw his sword from the scabbard, and
+brandished it aloft, ready for action, as he ran. It is true that he
+was one against three—that he was on foot while they were on
+horseback—but he had not time to consider the odds against him, and he
+seemed possessed of the strength of a giant in Isabelle’s behalf.
+Making a prodigious effort, he suddenly increased his speed, and coming
+up with the two horsemen, who were a little behind the other one,
+quickly disposed of them, by vigorously pricking their horses’ flanks
+with the point of his sword; for, what with fright and pain, the
+animals, after plunging violently, threw off all restraint and
+bolted—dashing off across country as if the devil were after them, and
+carrying their riders with them, just as de Sigognac had expected and
+intended that they should do. The brave young baron was nearly
+spent—panting, almost sobbing, as he struggled desperately on—feeling
+as if his heart would burst at every agonizing throb; but he was indued
+with supernatural strength and endurance, and as Isabelle’s voice
+reached his ear calling, “Help, de Sigognac, help!” he cleared with a
+bound the space that separated them, and leaping up to catch the broad
+leathern strap that was passed round her and her captor, answered in a
+hoarse, shrill tone, “I am here.” Clinging to the strap, he ran along
+beside the galloping horse—like the grooms that the Romans called
+_desultores_—and strove with all his might to pull the rider down out
+of his saddle. He did not dare to use his sword to disable him, as they
+struggled together, lest he should wound Isabelle also; and, meantime,
+the man on horseback was trying his utmost to shake off his fierce
+assailant-unsuccessfully, because he had both hands fully occupied with
+his horse and his captive, who was doing all she could to slip from his
+grasp, and throw herself into her lover’s arms. Loosing his hold on the
+rein for a second, the horseman managed to draw a knife from his
+girdle, and with one blow severed the strap to which the baron was
+clinging; then, driving his spurs into the horse’s sides made the
+frightened animal spring suddenly forward, while de Sigognac—who was
+not prepared for this emergency, and found himself deprived of all
+support—fell violently upon his back in the road. He was up again in an
+instant, and flying after Isabelle, who was now being borne rapidly
+away from him, and whose cries for help came more and more faintly to
+his ear; but the moment he had lost made his pursuit hopeless, and he
+knew that it was all in vain when he saw her disappear behind the
+thicket her ravisher had been aiming for from the first. His heart sank
+within him, and he staggered as he still ran feebly on—feeling now the
+effects of his superhuman exertions, and fearing at each step that his
+feet would carry him no farther. He was soon overtaken by Hérode and
+Scapin, who, alarmed by the pistol shot, and fearing that something was
+wrong, had started in hot pursuit, though the lackey who served them as
+guide had done all that he possibly could to hinder them, and in a few
+faltering words he told them what had occurred.
+
+“Vallombreuse again!” cried the tyrant, with an oath. “But how the
+devil did he get wind of our expedition to the Château de Pommereuil?
+or can it be possible that it was all a plot from the beginning, and we
+are bound on a fool’s errand? I really begin to think it must be so. If
+it is true, I never saw a better actor in my life than that respectable
+old major-domo, confound him! But let us make haste and search this
+grove thoroughly; we may find some trace of poor Isabelle; sweet
+creature that she is! Rough old tyrant though I be, my heart warms to
+her, and I love her more tenderly than I do myself. Alas! I’m afraid,
+that this poor, innocent, little fly is caught in the toils of a cruel
+spider, who will take care never to let us get sight of her again.”
+
+“I will crush him,” said de Sigognac, striking his heel savagely on the
+ground, as if he actually had the spider under it. “I will crush the
+life out of him, the venomous beast!” and the fierce, determined
+expression of his usually calm, mild countenance showed that this was
+no idle threat, but that he was terribly in earnest.
+
+“Look,” cried Hérode, as they dashed through the thicket, “there they
+are!”
+
+They could just discern, through the screen of leafless but thickly
+interlaced branches, a carriage, with all the curtains carefully
+closed, and drawn by four horses lashed to a gallop, which was rapidly
+rolling away from them in the distance. The two men whose horses had
+run away with them had them again under control, and were riding on
+either side of it—one of them leading the horse that had carried
+Isabelle and her captor. _He_ was doubtless mounting guard over her in
+the carriage—perhaps using force to keep her quiet—at thought of which
+de Sigognac could scarcely control the transport of rage and agony that
+shook him. Although the three pursuers followed the fugitives, as fast
+as they could run, it was all of no avail, for they soon lost sight of
+them altogether, and nothing remained to be done but to ascertain, if
+possible, the direction they had taken, so as to have some clew to poor
+Isabelle’s whereabouts. They had considerable difficulty in making out
+the marks of the carriage wheels, for the roads were very dry; and when
+at length they had succeeded in tracing them to a place where four
+roads met they lost them entirely—it was utterly impossible to tell
+which way they had gone. After a long and fruitless search they turned
+back sorrowfully to join their companions, trying to devise some plan
+for Isabelle’s rescue, but feeling acutely how hopeless it was. They
+found the others in the chariot waiting for them, just where the tyrant
+and Scapin had left them, for their false guide had put spurs to his
+horse and ridden off after his confederates, as soon as he became aware
+that their undertaking had proved successful. When Hérode asked an old
+peasant woman, who came by with a bundle of fagots on her back, how far
+it was to the Château de Pommereuil, she answered that there was no
+place of that name anywhere in the country round. Upon being questioned
+closely, she said that she had lived in the neighbourhood for seventy
+years, knew every house within many leagues, and could positively
+assure them that there was no such Château within a day’s journey. So
+it was only too evident that they were the dupes of the clever agents
+of the Duke of Vallombreuse, who had at last succeeded in getting
+possession of Isabelle, as he had sworn that he would do. Accordingly,
+all of the party turned back towards Paris, excepting de Sigognac, the
+tyrant and Scapin, who had decided to go on to the next village, where
+they hoped to be able to procure horses, with which to prosecute their
+search for Isabelle and her abductors.
+
+After the baron’s fall, she had been swiftly taken on to the other side
+of the thicket, where the carriage stood awaiting her; then lifted down
+from the horse and put into it, in spite of her frantic struggles and
+remonstrances. The man who had held her in front of him got down also
+and sprang in after her, closing the door with a bang, and instantly
+they were off at a tremendous pace. He seated himself opposite to her,
+and when she impetuously tried to pull aside the curtain, so that she
+could see out of the window nearest to her, he respectfully but firmly
+restrained her.
+
+“Mademoiselle, I implore you to keep quiet,” he said, with the utmost
+politeness, “and not oblige me to use forcible means to restrain so
+charming and adorable a creature as your most lovely self. No harm
+shall come to you—do not be afraid!—only kindness is intended;
+therefore I beseech you do not persist in vain resistance. If you will
+only submit quietly, you shall be treated with as much consideration
+and respect as a captive queen, but if you go on acting like the devil,
+struggling and shrieking, I have means to bring you to terms, and I
+shall certainly resort to them. _This_ will stop your screaming,
+mademoiselle, and _this_ will prevent your struggling.”
+
+As he spoke he drew out of his pocket a small gag, very artistically
+made, and a long, thick, silken cord, rolled up into a ball.
+
+“It would be barbarous indeed,” he continued, “to apply such a thing as
+this to that sweet, rosy mouth of yours, mademoiselle, as I am sure
+that you will admit—or to bind together those pretty, delicate, little
+wrists, upon which no worse fetters than diamond bracelets should ever
+be placed.”
+
+Poor Isabelle, furious and frightened though she was, could not but
+acknowledge to herself that further physical resistance then would be
+worse than useless, and determined to spare herself at least such
+indignities as she was at that moment threatened with; so, without
+vouchsafing a word to her attendant, she threw herself back into the
+corner of the carriage, closed her eyes, and tried to keep perfectly
+still. But in spite of her utmost endeavours she could not altogether
+repress an occasional sob, nor hold back the great tears that welled
+forth from under her drooping eyelids and rolled down over her pale
+cheeks, as she thought of de Sigognac’s despair and her own danger.
+
+“After the nervous excitement comes the moist stage;” said her masked
+guardian to himself, “things are following their usual and natural
+course. I am very glad of it, for I should have greatly disliked to be
+obliged to act a brutal part with such a sweet, charming girl as this.”
+
+Now and then Isabelle opened her eyes and cast a timid glance at her
+abductor, who finally said to her, in a voice he vainly strove to
+render soft and mild:
+
+“You need not be afraid of me, mademoiselle! I would not harm you in
+any way for the world. If fortune had been more generous to me I
+certainly would never have undertaken this enterprise against such a
+lovely, gentle young lady as you are; but poor men like me are driven
+to all sorts of expedients to earn a little money; they have to take
+whatever comes within their reach, and sacrifice their scruples to
+their necessities.”
+
+“You do admit then,” said Isabelle vehemently, “that you have been
+bribed to carry me off? An infamous, cruel, outrageous thing it is.”
+
+“After what I have had to do,” he replied, “it would be idle to deny
+it. There are a good many philosophers like myself in Paris,
+mademoiselle, who, instead of indulging in love affairs, and intrigues
+of various sorts, of their own, interest themselves in those of other
+people, and, for a consideration, make use of their courage, ingenuity
+and strength to further them. But to change the subject, how charming
+you were in that last new play! You went through the scene of the
+avowal with a grace I have never seen equalled. I applauded you to the
+echo; the pair of hands that kept it up so perseveringly and
+vigorously, you know, belonged to me.”
+
+“I beg you to dispense with these ill-judged remarks and compliments,
+and to tell me where you are taking me, in this strange, outrageous
+manner, against my will, and, in despite of all the ordinary usages of
+civilized society.”
+
+“I cannot tell you that, mademoiselle, and besides, it would do you no
+sort of good to know. In our profession, you see, we are obliged to
+observe as much secrecy and discretion as confessors and physicians.
+Indeed, in such affairs as this we often do not know the names of the
+parties we are working for ourselves.”
+
+“Do you mean to say that you do not know who has employed you to commit
+this abominable, cruel crime?”
+
+“It makes no difference whether I know his name or not, since I am not
+at liberty to disclose it to you. Think over your numerous admirers,
+mademoiselle! the most ardent and least favoured one among them would
+probably be at the bottom of all this.”
+
+Finding that she could not get any information from him, Isabelle
+desisted, and did not speak again. She had not the slightest doubt that
+the Duke of Vallombreuse was the author of this new and daring
+enterprise. The significant and threatening way in which he had said
+“_au revoir, mademoiselle_,” as he quitted her presence after she had
+repulsed him a few days before, had haunted her, and she had been in
+constant dread ever since of some new outrage. She hoped, against hope,
+that de Sigognac, her valiant lover, would yet come to her rescue, and
+thought proudly of the gallant deeds he had already done in her behalf
+that day—but how was he to find out where to seek her?
+
+“If worst comes to worst,” she said to herself, “I still have
+Chiquita’s knife, and I can and will escape from my persecutor in that
+way, if all other means fail.”
+
+For two long hours she sat motionless, a prey to sad and terrible
+thoughts and fears, while the carriage rolled swiftly on without
+slackening its speed, save once, for a moment, when they changed
+horses. As the curtains were all lowered, she could not catch even a
+glimpse of the country she was passing through, nor tell in what
+direction she was being driven. At last she heard the hollow sound of a
+drawbridge under the wheels; the carriage stopped, and her masked
+companion, promptly opening the door, jumped nimbly out and helped her
+to alight. She cast a hurried glance round her, as she stepped down,
+saw that she was in a large, square court, and that all the tall,
+narrow windows in the high brick walls that surrounded it had their
+inside shutters carefully closed. The stone pavement of the spacious
+courtyard was in some places partly covered with moss, and a few weeds
+had sprung up in the corners, and along the edges by the walls. At the
+foot of a broad, easy flight of steps, leading up to a covered porch,
+two majestic Egyptian sphinxes lay keeping guard; their huge rounded
+flanks mottled here and there with patches of moss and lichens.
+Although the large château looked lonely and deserted, it had a grand,
+lordly air, and seemed to be kept in perfect order and repair. Isabelle
+was led up the steps and into the vestibule by the man who had brought
+her there, and then consigned to the care of a respectable-looking
+majordomo, who preceded her up a magnificent staircase, and into a
+suite of rooms furnished with the utmost luxury and elegance. Passing
+through the first—which was enriched with fine old carvings in oak,
+dark with age—he left her in a spacious, admirably proportioned
+apartment, where a cheery wood fire was roaring up the huge chimney,
+and she saw a bed in a curtained alcove. She chanced to catch sight of
+her own face in the mirror over an elaborately furnished
+dressing-table, as she passed it, and was startled and shocked at its
+ghastly pallor and altered expression; she scarcely could recognise it,
+and felt as if she had seen a ghost—poor Isabelle! Over the high,
+richly ornamented chimney-piece hung a portrait of a gentleman, which,
+as she approached the fire, at once caught and riveted her attention.
+The face seemed strangely familiar to her, and yet she could not
+remember where she had seen it before. It was pale, with large, black
+eyes, full red lips, and wavy brown hair, thrown carelessly back from
+it-apparently the likeness of a man about forty years of age and it had
+a charming air of nobility and lofty pride, tempered with benevolence
+and tenderness, which was inexpressibly attractive. The portrait was
+only half-length—the breast being covered with a steel cuirass, richly
+inlaid with gold, which was partly concealed by a white scarf, loosely
+knotted over it. Isabelle, despite her great alarm and anxiety, could
+not long withdraw her eyes or her thoughts from this picture, which
+seemed to exert a strange fascination over her. There was something
+about it that at the first glance resembled the Duke of Vallombreuse,
+but the expression was so different that the likeness disappeared
+entirely upon closer examination. It brought vague memories to
+Isabelle’s mind that she tried in vain to seize—she felt as if she must
+be looking at it in a dream. She was still absorbed in reverie before
+it when the major-domo reappeared, followed by two lackeys, in quiet
+livery, carrying a small table set for one person, which they put down
+near the fire; and as one of them took the cover off an old-fashioned,
+massive silver tureen, he announced to Isabelle that her dinner was
+ready. The savoury odour from the smoking soup was very tempting, and
+she was very hungry; but after she had mechanically seated herself and
+dipped her spoon into the broth, it suddenly occurred to her that the
+food might contain a narcotic—such things had been done—and she pushed
+away the plate in front of her in alarm. The major-domo, who was
+standing at a respectful distance watching her, ready to anticipate her
+every wish, seemed to divine her thought, for he advanced to the table
+and deliberately partook of all the viands upon it, as well as of the
+wine and water—as if to prove to her that there was nothing wrong or
+unusual about them. Isabelle was somewhat reassured by this, and
+feeling that she would probably have need of all her strength, did
+bring herself to eat and drink, though very sparingly. Then, quitting
+the table, she sat down in a large easy-chair in front of the fire to
+think over her terrible position, and endeavour to devise some means of
+escape from it. When the servants had attended to their duties and left
+her alone again, she rose languidly and walked slowly to the
+window—feeling as weak as though she had had a severe illness, after
+the violent emotions and terrors of the day, and as if she had aged
+years in the last few hours. Could it be possible that only that very
+morning she and de Sigognac had been walking together, with hearts full
+of happiness and peace—and she had rapturously hailed the appearance of
+the first spring violet as an omen of good, and gathered the sweet
+little blossom to bestow upon the devoted lover who adored her? And
+now, alas! alas! they were as inexorably and hopelessly separated as if
+half the globe lay between them. No wonder that her breast heaved
+tumultuously with choking sobs, and hot tears rained down over her
+pallid cheeks, as she wept convulsively at the thought of all she had
+lost. But she did not long indulge her grief—she remembered that at any
+moment she might have need of all her coolness and fortitude—and making
+a mighty effort, like the brave heroine that she was, she regained
+control over herself, and drove back the gushing tears to await a more
+fitting season. She was relieved to find that there were no bars at the
+window, as she had feared; but upon opening the casement and leaning
+out she saw immediately beneath her a broad moat, full of stagnant
+water, which surrounded the château, and forbade any hope of succour or
+escape on that side. Beyond the moat was a thick grove of large trees,
+which entirely shut out the view; and she returned to her seat by the
+fire, more disheartened and cast down than ever. She was very nervous,
+and trembled at the slightest sound—casting hasty, terrified glances
+round the vast apartment, and dreading lest an unseen door in some
+shadowy corner should be softly opened, or a hidden panel in the wall
+be slipped aside, to admit her relentless enemy to her presence. She
+remembered all the horrible tales she had ever heard of secret passages
+and winding staircases in the walls, that are supposed to abound in
+ancient castles; and the mysterious visitants, both human and
+supernatural, that are said to be in the habit of issuing from them, in
+the gloaming, and at midnight. As the twilight deepened into darkness,
+her terror increased, and she nearly fainted from fright when a servant
+suddenly entered with lights.
+
+While poor Isabelle was suffering such agony in one part of the
+château, her abductors were having a grand carouse in another. They
+were to remain there for a while as a sort of garrison, in case of an
+attack by de Sigognac and his friends; and were gathered round the
+table in a large room down on the ground floor—as remote as possible
+from Isabelle’s sumptuous quarters. They were all drinking like
+sponges, and making merry over their wine and good cheer, but one of
+them especially showed the most remarkable and astounding powers of
+ingurgitation—it was the man who had carried off the fair prize before
+him on his horse; and, now that the mask was thrown aside, he disclosed
+to view the deathly pale face and fiery red nose of Malartic, bosom
+friend and “_alter ego_” of Maître Jacquemin Lampourde.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+VALLOMBREUSE
+
+
+Isabelle sat for a long time perfectly motionless in her luxurious
+chamber, sunk in a sad reverie, apparently entirely oblivious of the
+glow of light, warmth, and comfort that closed her in—glancing up
+occasionally at the portrait over the chimney-piece, which seemed to be
+smiling down upon her and promising her protection and peace, while it
+more than ever reminded her of some dear face she had known and loved
+long ago. After a time, however, her mood changed. She grew restless,
+and rising, began to wander aimlessly about the room; but her
+uneasiness only increased, and finally, in desperation, she resolved to
+venture out into the corridor and look about her, no matter at what
+risk. Anything would be better than this enforced inactivity and
+suspense. She tried the door with a trembling hand, dreading to find
+herself locked in, but it was not fastened, and seeing that all was
+dark outside, she took up a small lamp, that had been left burning on a
+side table, and boldly setting forth, went softly down the long flight
+of stairs, in the hope of finding some means of exit from the château
+on the lower floor. At the foot of the stairs she came to a large
+double door, one leaf of which yielded easily when she timidly tried to
+open it, but creaked dolefully as it turned on its hinges. She
+hesitated for a moment, fearing that the noise would alarm the servants
+and bring them out to see what was amiss; but no one came, and taking
+fresh courage, she moved on and passed into a lofty, vaulted hall, with
+high-backed, oaken benches ranged against the tapestry-covered walls,
+upon which hung several large trophies of arms, and sundry swords,
+shields, and steel gauntlets, which caught and flashed back the light
+from her lamp as she held it up to examine them. The air was heavy,
+chilly, and damp. An awful stillness reigned in this deserted hall.
+Isabelle shivered as she crept slowly along, and nearly stumbled
+against a huge table, with massive carved feet, that stood in the
+centre of the tesselated marble pavement. She was making for a door,
+opposite the one by which she had entered; but, as she approached it,
+was horror-stricken when she perceived two tall men, clad in armour,
+standing like sentinels, one on either side of it. She stopped short,
+then tried to turn and fly, but was so paralyzed with terror that she
+could not stir, expecting every instant that they would pounce upon her
+and take her prisoner, while she bitterly repented her temerity in
+having ventured to leave her own room, and vainly wished herself back
+by the quiet fireside there. Meanwhile the two dread figures stood as
+motionless as herself—the silence was unbroken, and “the beating of her
+own heart was the only sound she heard.” So at last she plucked up
+courage to look more closely at the grim sentinels, and could not help
+smiling at her own needless alarm, when she found that they were suits
+of armour, indeed, but without men inside of them—just such as one sees
+standing about in the ancient royal palaces of France. Passing them
+with a saucy glance of defiance, and a little triumphant toss of the
+head, Isabelle entered a vast dining room, with tall, sculptured
+buffets, on which stood many superb vessels of gold and silver,
+together with delicate specimens of exquisite Venetian and Bohemian
+glass, and precious pieces of fine porcelain, fit for a king’s table.
+Large handsome chairs, with carved backs, were standing round the great
+dining-table, and the walls, above the heavy oaken wainscot, were hung
+with richly embossed Cordova leather, glowing with warm, bright tints
+and golden arabesques.
+
+She did not linger to examine and admire all the beautified things
+dimly revealed to her by the feeble light of her small lamp, but
+hurried on to the third door, which opened into an apartment yet more
+spacious and magnificent than the other two. At one end of it was a
+lordly dais, raised three steps above the inlaid floor, upon which
+stood a splendid great arm-chair, almost a throne, under a canopy
+emblazoned with a brilliant coat of arms and surmounted by a tuft of
+nodding plumes. Still hurrying on, Isabelle next entered a sumptuous
+bed-chamber, and, as she paused for an instant to hold up her lamp and
+look about her, fancied that she could hear the regular breathing of a
+sleeper in the immense bed, behind the crimson silk curtains which were
+closely drawn around it. She did not dare to stop and investigate the
+matter, but flew on her way, as lightly as any bird, and next found
+herself in a library, where the white busts surmounting the well-filled
+book-cases stared down at her with their hard, stony eyes, and made her
+shudder as she nervously sought for an exit, without delaying one
+moment to glance at the great variety of curious and beautiful objects
+scattered lavishly about, which, under any ordinary circumstances,
+would have held her enthralled.
+
+Running at right angles with the library, and opening out of it, was
+the picture gallery, where the family portraits were arranged in
+chronological order on one side, while opposite to them was a long row
+of windows, looking into the court. The shutters were closed, but near
+the top of each one was a small circular opening, through which the
+moon shone and faintly lighted the dusky gallery, striking here and
+there directly upon the face of a portrait, with an indescribably weird
+and startling effect. It required all of Isabelle’s really heroic
+courage to keep on past the long line of strange faces, looking down
+mockingly it seemed to her from their proud height upon her trembling
+form as she glided swiftly by, and she was thankful to find, at the end
+of the gallery, a glass door opening out upon the court. It was not
+fastened, and after carefully placing her lamp in a sheltered corner,
+where no draughts could reach it, she stepped out under the stars. It
+was a relief to find herself breathing freely in the fresh, pure air,
+though she was actually no less a prisoner than before, and as she
+stood looking up into the clear evening sky, and thinking of her own
+true lover, she seemed to feel new courage and hope springing up in her
+heart.
+
+In one corner of the court she saw a strong light shining out through
+the crevices in the shutters that closed several low windows, and heard
+sounds of revelry from the same direction—the only signs of life she
+had detected about the whole place. Her curiosity was excited by them,
+and she stole softly over towards the quarter from whence they came,
+keeping carefully in the shadow of the wall, and glancing anxiously
+about to make sure that no one was furtively watching her. Finding a
+considerable aperture in one of the wooden shutters she peeped through
+it, and saw a party of men gathered around a table, eating and drinking
+and making merry in a very noisy fashion. The light from a lamp with
+three burners, which was suspended by a copper chain from the low
+ceiling, fell full upon them, and although she had only seen them
+masked before, Isabelle instantly recognised those who had been
+concerned in her abduction. At the head of the table sat Malartic,
+whose extraordinary face was paler and nose redder than ever, and at
+sight of whom the young girl shuddered and drew back. When she had
+recovered herself a little, she looked in again upon the repulsive
+scene, and was surprised to see, at the other end of the table, and
+somewhat apart from the others, Agostino, the brigand, who had now laid
+aside the long white beard in which he had played the part of the old
+blind beggar so successfully. A great deal of loud talking was going
+on, constantly interrupted by bursts of laughter, but Isabelle could
+not hear distinctly enough through the closed window to make out what
+they were saying. Even if she had been actually in the room with them,
+she would have found much of their conversation incomprehensible, as it
+was largely made up of the extraordinary slang of the Paris street
+Arabs and rascals generally. From time to time one or the other of the
+participants in this orgy seemed to propose a toast, whereupon they
+would all clink their glasses together before raising them to their
+lips, drain them at a draught, and applaud vociferously, while there
+was a constant drawing of corks and placing of fresh bottles on the
+table by the servant who was waiting upon them. Just as Isabelle,
+thoroughly disgusted with the brutality of the scene before her, was
+about to turn away, Malartic rapped loudly on the table to obtain a
+hearing, and after making a proposition, which met with ready and
+cordial assent, rose from his seat, cleared his throat, and began to
+sing, or rather shout, a ribald song, all the others joining in the
+chorus, with horrible grimaces and gesticulations, which so frightened
+poor Isabelle that she could scarcely find strength to creep away from
+the loathsome spectacle.
+
+Before re-entering the house she went to look at the drawbridge, with a
+faint hope that she might chance upon some unexpected means of escape,
+but all was secure there, and a little postern, opening on the moat,
+which she discovered near by, was also carefully fastened, with bolts
+and bars strong enough to keep out an army. As these seemed to be the
+only means of exit from the château, she felt that she was a prisoner
+indeed, and understood why it had not been deemed necessary to lock any
+of the inner doors against her. She walked slowly back to the gallery,
+entered it by the glass door, found her lamp burning tranquilly just
+where she had left it, retraced her steps swiftly through the long
+suite of spacious apartments already described and flew up the grand
+staircase to her own room, congratulating herself upon not having been
+detected in her wanderings. She put her lamp down in the antechamber,
+but paused in terror on the threshold of the inner room, stifling a
+shriek that had nearly escaped her as she caught sight of a strange,
+wild figure crouching on the hearth. But her fears were short-lived,
+for with an exclamation of delight the intruder sprang towards her and
+she saw that it was Chiquita—but Chiquita in boy’s clothes.
+
+“Have you got the knife yet?” said the strange little creature abruptly
+to Isabelle—“the knife with three bonny red marks.”
+
+“Yes, Chiquita, I have it here in my bosom,” she replied. “But why do
+you ask? Is my life in danger?”
+
+“A knife,” said the child with fierce, sparkling eyes, “a knife is a
+faithful friend and servant; it never betrays or fails its master, if
+he is careful to give it a drink now and then, for a knife is often
+thirsty you know.”
+
+“You frighten me, you naughty child!” exclaimed Isabelle, much troubled
+and agitated by these sinister, extravagant words, which perhaps, she
+thought, might be intended as a friendly warning.
+
+“Sharpen the edge on the marble of the chimney-piece, like this,”
+continued Chiquita, “and polish the blade on the sole of your shoe.”
+
+“Why do you tell me all this?” cried Isabelle, turning very pale.
+
+“For nothing in particular, only he who would defend himself gets his
+weapons ready—that’s all.”
+
+These odd, fierce phrases greatly alarmed Isabelle, yet Chiquita’s
+presence in her room was a wonderful relief and comfort to her. The
+child apparently cherished a warm and sincere affection for her, which
+was none the less genuine because of its having arisen from such a
+trivial incident—for the pearl beads were more precious than diamonds
+to Chiquita. She had given a voluntary promise to Isabelle never to
+kill or harm her, and with her strange, wild, yet exalted notions of
+honour she looked upon it as a solemn obligation and vow, by which she
+must always abide—for there was a certain savage nobility in Chiquita’s
+character, and she could be faithful unto death. Isabelle was the only
+human being, excepting Agostino, who had been kind to her. She had
+smiled upon the unkempt child, and given her the coveted necklace, and
+Chiquita loved her for it, while she adored her beauty. Isabelle’s
+sweet countenance, so angelically mild and pure, exercised a wonderful
+influence over the neglected little savage, who had always been
+surrounded by fierce, haggard faces, expressive of every evil passion,
+and disfigured by indulgence in the lowest vices, and excesses of every
+kind.
+
+“But how does it happen that you are here, Chiquita?” asked Isabelle,
+after a short silence. “Were you sent to keep guard over me?”
+
+“No, I came alone and of my own accord,” answered Chiquita, “because I
+saw the light and fire. I was tired of lying all cramped up in a
+corner, and keeping quiet, while those beastly men drank bottle after
+bottle of wine, and gorged themselves with the good things set before
+them. I am so little, you know, so young and slender, that they pay no
+more attention to me than they would to a kitten asleep under the
+table. While they were making a great noise I slipped quietly away
+unperceived. The smell of the wine and the food sickened me. I am used
+to the sweet perfume of the heather, and the pure resinous odour of the
+pines. I cannot breathe in such an atmosphere as there is down below
+there.”
+
+“And you were not afraid to wander alone, without a light, through the
+long, dark corridors, and the lonely, deserted rooms?”
+
+“Chiquita does not know what it is to be afraid—her eyes can see in the
+dark, and her feet never stumble. The very owls shut their eyes when
+they meet her, and the bats fold their wings when she comes near their
+haunts. Wandering ghosts stand aside to let her pass, or turn back when
+they see her approaching. Night is her comrade and hides no secrets
+from her, and Chiquita never betrays them to the day.”
+
+Her eyes flashed and dilated as she spoke, and Isabelle looked at her
+with growing wonder, not unmixed with a vague sensation of fear.
+
+“I like much better to stay here, in this heavenly quiet, by the fire
+with you,” continued the child, “than down there in all the uproar. You
+are so beautiful that I love to look at you-you are like the Blessed
+Virgin that I have seen shining above the altar. Only from afar though,
+for they always chase me out of the churches with the dogs, because I
+am so shabby and forlorn. How white your hand is! Mine looks like a
+monkey’s paw beside it—and your hair is as fine and soft as silk, while
+mine is all rough and tangled. Oh! I am so horribly ugly—you must think
+so too.”
+
+“No, my dear child,” Isabelle replied, touched by her naive expressions
+of affection and admiration, “I do not think so. You have beauty
+too—you only need to make yourself neat and clean to be as pretty a
+little girl as one would wish to see.”
+
+“Do you really think so? Are you telling me true? I would steal fine
+clothes if they would make me pretty, for then Agostino would love me.”
+
+This idea brought a little flush of colour to her thin brown cheeks,
+and for a few minutes she seemed lost in a pleasant reverie.
+
+“Do you know where we are?” asked Isabelle, when Chiquita looked up at
+her again.
+
+“In a château that belongs to the great seignior who has so much money,
+and who wanted to carry you off at Poitiers. I had only to draw the
+bolt and it would have been done then. But you gave me the pearl
+necklace, and I love you, and I would not do anything you did not
+like.”
+
+“Yet you have helped to carry me off this time,” said Isabelle
+reproachfully. “Is it because you don’t love me any more that you have
+given me up to my enemies?”
+
+“Agostino ordered me, and I had to obey; besides, some other child
+could have played guide to the blind man as well as I, and then I could
+not have come into the château with you, do you see?—here I may be able
+to do something to help you. I am brave, active and strong, though I am
+so small, and quick as lightning too—and I shall not let anybody harm
+you.”
+
+“Is this château very far from Paris?” asked Isabelle, drawing Chiquita
+up on her lap. “Did you hear any one mention the name of this place?”
+
+“Yes, one of them called it—now what was it?” said the child, looking
+up at the ceiling and absently scratching her head, as if to stimulate
+her memory.
+
+“Try to remember it, my child!” said Isabelle, softly stroking
+Chiquita’s brown cheeks, which flushed with delight at the unwonted
+caress—no one had ever petted the poor child in her life before.
+
+“I think that it was Val-lom-breuse,” said Chiquita at last,
+pronouncing the syllables separately and slowly, as if listening to an
+inward echo. “Yes, Vallombreuse, I am sure of it now. It is the name of
+the seignior that your Captain Fracasse wounded in a duel—he would have
+done much better if he had killed him outright—saved a great deal of
+trouble to himself and to you. He is very wicked, that rich duke,
+though he does throw his gold about so freely by the handfuls—just like
+a man sowing grain. You hate him, don’t you? and you would be glad if
+you could get away from him, eh?”
+
+“Oh yes, indeed!” cried Isabelle impetuously. “But alas! it is
+impossible—a deep moat runs all around this château the drawbridge is
+up, the postern securely fastened—there is no way of escape.”
+
+“Chiquita laughs at bolts and bars, at high walls and deep moats.
+Chiquita can get out of the best guarded prison whenever she pleases,
+and fly away to the moon, right before the eyes of her astonished
+jailer. If you choose, before the sun rises your Captain Fracasse shall
+know where the treasure that he seeks is hidden.”
+
+Isabelle was afraid, when she heard these incoherent phrases, that the
+child was not quite sane, but her little face was so calm, her dark
+eyes so clear and steady, her voice so earnest, and she spoke with such
+an air of quiet conviction, that the supposition was not admissible,
+and the strange little creature did seem to be possessed of some of the
+magic powers she claimed. As if to convince Isabelle that she was not
+merely boasting, she continued, “Let me think a moment, to make a
+plan—don’t speak nor move, for the least sound interferes with me—I
+must listen to the spirit.”
+
+Chiquita bent down her head, put her hand over her eyes, and remained
+for several minutes perfectly motionless; then she raised her head and
+without a word went and opened the window, clambered up on the sill,
+and gazed out intently into the darkness.
+
+“Is she really going to take flight?” said Isabelle to herself, as she
+anxiously watched Chiquita’s movements, not knowing what to expect.
+Exactly opposite to the window, on the other side of the moat, was an
+immense tree, very high and old, whose great branches, spreading out
+horizontally, overhung the water; but the longest of them did not reach
+the wall of the château by at least ten feet. It was upon this tree,
+however, that Chiquita’s plan for escape depended. She turned away from
+the window, drew from her pocket a long cord made of horse-hair, very
+fine and strong, which she carefully unrolled to its full length and
+laid upon the floor; then produced from another pocket an iron hook,
+which she fastened securely to the cord. This done to her satisfaction,
+she went to the window again, and threw the end of the cord with the
+hook into the branches of the tree. The first time she was
+unsuccessful; the iron hook fell and struck against the stone wall
+beneath the casement; but at the second attempt the hook caught and
+held, and Chiquita, drawing the cord taut, asked Isabelle to take hold
+of it and bear her whole weight on it, until the branch was bent as far
+as possible towards the château—coming five or six feet nearer to the
+window where they were. Then Chiquita tied the cord firmly to the
+ornamental iron railing of the tiny balcony, with a knot that could not
+slip, climbed over, and grasping the cord with both hands, swung
+herself off, and hung suspended over the waters of the moat far below.
+Isabelle held her breath. With a rapid motion of the hands Chiquita
+crossed the clear space, reached the tree safely, and climbed down into
+it with the agility of a monkey.
+
+“Now undo the knot so that I can take the cord with me,” she said, in a
+low but very distinct tone of voice to Isabelle, who began to breathe
+freely again, “unless, indeed, you would like to follow me. But you
+would be frightened and dizzy, and might fall, so you had better stay
+where you are. Good-bye! I am going straight to Paris, and shall soon
+be back again; I can get on quickly in this bright moonlight.”
+
+Isabelle did as she was bid, and the branch, being no longer held by
+the cord, swung back to its original position. In less than a minute
+Chiquita had scrambled down to the ground, and the captive soon lost
+sight of her slender little figure as she walked off briskly towards
+the capital.
+
+All that had just occurred seemed like a strange dream to Isabelle, now
+that she found herself alone again. She remained for some time at the
+open casement, looking at the great tree opposite, and trembling as she
+realized the terrible risk Chiquita had run for her sake—feeling warm
+gratitude and tender affection for the wild, incomprehensible little
+creature, who manifested such a strong attachment for herself, and a
+new hope sprang up in her heart as she thought that now de Sigognac
+would soon know where to find her. The cold night air at last forced
+her to close the window, and after arranging the curtains over it
+carefully, so as to show no signs of having been disturbed, she
+returned to her easy-chair by the fire; and just in time, for she had
+scarcely seated herself when the major-domo entered, followed by the
+two servants, again carrying the little table, set for one, with her
+supper daintily arranged upon it. A few minutes earlier and Chiquita’s
+escape would have been discovered and prevented. Isabelle, still
+greatly agitated by all that had passed, could not eat, and signed to
+the servants to remove the supper untouched. Whereupon the major-domo
+himself put some bread and wine on a small table beside the bed, and
+placed on a chair near the fire a richly trimmed dressing-gown, and
+everything that a lady could require in making her toilet for the
+night. Several large logs of wood were piled up on the massive
+andirons, the candles were renewed, and then the major-domo,
+approaching Isabelle with a profound obeisance, said to her that if she
+desired the services of a maid he would send one to her. As she made a
+gesture of dissent he withdrew, after again bowing to her most
+respectfully. When they had all gone, Isabelle, quite worn out, threw
+herself down on the outside of the bed without undressing, so as to be
+ready in case of any sudden alarm in the night; then took out
+Chiquita’s knife, opened it, and laid it beside her. Having taken these
+precautions, she closed her eyes, and hoped that she could for a while
+forget her troubles in sleep; but she had been so much excited and
+agitated that her nerves were all quivering, and it was long before she
+even grew drowsy. There were so many strange, incomprehensible noises
+in the great, empty house to disturb and startle her; and in her own
+room, the cracking of the furniture, the ticking of a death-watch in
+the wall near her bed, the gnawing of a rat behind the wainscot, the
+snapping of the fire. At each fresh sound she started up in terror,
+with her poor heart throbbing as if it would burst out of her breast, a
+cold perspiration breaking out on her forehead, and trembling in every
+limb. At last, however, weary nature had to succumb, and she fell into
+a deep sleep, which lasted until she was awakened by the sun shining on
+her face. Her first thought was to wonder that she had not yet seen the
+Duke of Vallombreuse; but she was thankful for his absence, and hoped
+that it would continue until Chiquita should have brought de Sigognac
+to the rescue.
+
+The reason why the young duke had not yet made his appearance was one
+of policy. He had taken especial pains to show himself at Saint Germain
+on the day of the abduction—had joined the royal hunting party, and
+been exceedingly and unwontedly affable to all who happened to come in
+contact with him. In the evening he had played at cards, and lost
+ostentatiously sums that would have been of importance to a less
+wealthy man—being all the time in a very genial mood—especially after
+the arrival of a mounted messenger, who brought him a little note. Thus
+the duke’s desire to be able to establish an incontestable alibi, in
+case of need, had spared Isabelle thus far the infliction of his hated
+presence; but while she was congratulating herself upon it, and
+welcoming the sunshine that streamed into her room, she heard the
+drawbridge being let down, and immediately after a carriage dashed over
+it and thundered into the court. Her heart sank, for who would be
+likely to enter in that style save the master of the house? Her face
+grew deathly pale, she reeled, and for one dreadful moment felt as if
+she should faint; but, rallying her courage, she reminded herself that
+Chiquita had gone to bring de Sigognac to her aid, and determined
+afresh to meet bravely whatever trials might be in store for her, until
+her beloved knight and champion should arrive, to rescue her from her
+terrible danger and irksome imprisonment. Her eyes involuntarily sought
+the portrait over the chimney-piece, and after passionately invoking
+it, and imploring its aid and protection, as if it had been her patron
+saint, she felt a certain sense of ease and security, as if what she
+had so earnestly entreated would really be accorded to her.
+
+A full hour had elapsed, which the young duke had employed in the
+duties of the toilet, and in snatching a few minutes of repose after
+his rapid night-journey, when the major-domo presented himself, and
+asked respectfully if Isabelle would receive the Duke of Vallombreuse.
+
+“I am a prisoner,” she replied, with quiet dignity, “and this demand,
+which would be fitting and polite in any ordinary case, is only a
+mockery when addressed to one in my position. I have no means of
+preventing your master’s coming into this room, nor can I quit it to
+avoid him. I do not accept his visit but submit to it. He must do as he
+pleases about it, and come and go when he likes. He allows me no choice
+in the matter. Go and tell him exactly what I have said to you.”
+
+The major-domo bowed low, and retired backward to the door, having
+received strict orders to treat Isabelle with the greatest respect and
+consideration. In a few minutes he returned, and announced the Duke of
+Vallombreuse.
+
+Isabelle half rose from her chair by the fire, but turned very pale and
+fell back into it, as her unwelcome visitor made his appearance at the
+door. He closed it and advanced slowly towards her, hat in hand, but
+when he perceived that she was trembling violently, and looked ready to
+faint, he stopped in the middle of the room, made a low bow, and said
+in his most dulcet, persuasive tones:
+
+“If my presence is too unbearably odious now to the charming Isabelle,
+and she would like to have a little time to get used to the thought of
+seeing me, I will withdraw. She is my prisoner, it is true, but I am
+none the less her slave.”
+
+“This courtesy is tardy,” Isabelle replied coldly, “after the violence
+you have made use of against me.”
+
+“That is the natural result,” said the duke, with a smile, “of pushing
+people to extremity by a too obstinate and prolonged resistance. Having
+lost all hope, they stop at nothing—knowing that they cannot make
+matters any worse, whatever they do. If you had only been willing to
+suffer me to pay my court to you in the regular way, and shown a little
+indulgence to my love, I should have quietly remained among the ranks
+of your passionate adorers; striving, by dint of delicate attentions,
+chivalrous devotion, magnificent offerings, and respectful yet ardent
+solicitations, to soften that hard heart of yours. If I could not have
+succeeded in inspiring it with love for me, I might at least have
+awakened in it that tender pity which is akin to love, and which is so
+often only its forerunner. In the end, perhaps, you would have repented
+of your cruel severity, and acknowledged that you had been unjust
+towards me. Believe me, my charming Isabelle, I should have neglected
+nothing to bring it about.”
+
+“If you had employed only honest and honourable means in your suit,”
+Isabelle rejoined, “I should have felt very sorry that I had been so
+unfortunate as to inspire an attachment I could not reciprocate, and
+would have given you my warm sympathy, and friendly regard, instead of
+being reluctantly compelled, by repeated outrages, to hate you instead.
+
+“You do hate me then?—you acknowledge it?” the duke cried, his voice
+trembling with rage; but he controlled himself, and after a short pause
+continued, in a gentler tone, “Yet I do not deserve it. My only wrongs
+towards you, if any there be, have come from the excess and ardour of
+my love; and what woman, however chaste and virtuous, can be seriously
+angry with a gallant gentleman because he has been conquered by the
+power of her adorable charms? whether she so desired or not.”
+
+“Certainly, that is not a reason for dislike or anger, my lord, if the
+suitor does not overstep the limits of respect, as all women will
+agree. But when his insolent impatience leads him to commit excesses,
+and he resorts to fraud, abduction, and imprisonment, as you have not
+hesitated to do, there is no other result possible than an
+unconquerable aversion. Coercion is always and inevitably revolting to
+a nature that has any proper pride or delicacy. Love, true love, is
+divine, and cannot be furnished to order, or extorted by violence. It
+is spontaneous, and freely given—not to be bought, nor yet won by
+importunity.”
+
+“Is an unconquerable aversion then all that I am to expect from you?”
+said Vallombreuse, who had become pale to ghastliness, and been
+fiercely gnawing his under lip, while Isabelle was speaking, in her
+sweet, clear tones, which fell on his ear like the soft chiming of
+silver bells, and only served to enhance his devouring passion.
+
+“There is yet one means of winning my friendship and gratitude—be noble
+and generous, and give me back the liberty of which you have deprived
+me. Let me return to my companions, who must be anxiously seeking for
+me, and suffering keenly because of their fears for my safety. Let me
+go and resume my lowly life as an actress, before this outrageous
+affair—which may irreparably injure my reputation—has become generally
+known, or my absence from the theatre been remarked by the public.”
+
+“How unfortunate it is,” cried the duke, angrily, “that you should ask
+of me the only thing I cannot do for you. If you had expressed your
+desire for an empire, a throne, I would have given it to you—or if you
+had wished for a star, I would have climbed up into the heavens to get
+it for you. But here you calmly ask me to open the door of this cage,
+little bird, to which you would never come back of your own accord, if
+I were stupid enough to let you go. It is impossible! I know well that
+you love me so little, or rather hate me so much, that you would never
+see me again of your own free will—that my only chance of enjoying your
+charming society is to lock you up—keep you my prisoner. However much
+it may cost my pride, I must do it—for I can no more live without you
+than a plant without the light. My thoughts turn to you as the
+heliotrope to the sun. Where you are not, all is darkness for me. If
+what I have dared to do is a crime, I must make the best of it, and
+profit by it as much as I can—for you would never forgive nor overlook
+it, whatever you may say now. Here at least I have you—I hold you. I
+can surround you with my love and care, and strive to melt the ice of
+your coldness by the heat of my passion. Your eyes must behold me—your
+ears must listen to my voice. I shall exert an influence over you, if
+only by the alarm and detestation I am so unfortunate as to inspire in
+your gentle breast; the sound of my footsteps in your antechamber will
+make you start and tremble. And then, besides all that, this captivity
+separates you effectually from the miserable fellow you fancy that you
+love—and whom I abhor; because he has dared to turn your heart away
+from me. I can at least enjoy this small satisfaction, of keeping you
+from him; and I will not let you go free to return to him—you may be
+perfectly sure of that, my fair lady!”
+
+“And how long do you intend to keep me captive?—not like a Christian
+gentleman, but like a lawless corsair.”
+
+“Until you have learned to love me—or at least to say that you have,
+which amounts to the same thing.”
+
+Then he made her a low bow, and departed, with as self-satisfied and
+jaunty an air as if he had been in truth a favoured suitor. Half an
+hour later a lackey brought in a beautiful bouquet, of the rarest and
+choicest flowers, while the stems were clasped by a magnificent
+bracelet, fit for a queen’s wearing. A little piece of folded paper
+nestled among the flowers—a note from the duke—and the fair prisoner
+recognised the handwriting as the same in which “For Isabelle” was
+written, on the slip of paper that accompanied the casket of jewels at
+Poitiers. The note read as follows:
+
+“DEAR ISABELLE—I send you these flowers, though I know they will be
+ungraciously received. As they come from me, their beauty and fragrance
+will not find favour in your eyes. But whatever may be their fate, even
+though you only touch them to fling them disdainfully out of the
+window, they will force you to think for a moment—if it be but in
+anger—of him who declares himself, in spite of everything, your devoted
+adorer,
+
+“VALLOMBREUSE.”
+
+
+This note, breathing of the most specious gallantry, and tenacity of
+purpose, did produce very much the effect it predicted; for it made
+Isabelle exceedingly angry; and, without even once inhaling the
+delicious perfume of the flowers, or pausing for an instant to admire
+their beauty, she flung the bouquet, diamond bracelet and all, out into
+the antechamber. Never surely were lovely blossoms so badly treated;
+and yet Isabelle was excessively fond of them; but she feared that if
+she even allowed them to remain a little while in her room, their donor
+would presume upon the slight concession. She had scarcely resumed her
+seat by the fire, after disposing of the obnoxious bouquet, when a maid
+appeared, who had been sent to wait upon her. She was a pretty, refined
+looking girl, but very pale, and with an air of deep melancholy—as if
+she were brooding over a secret sorrow. She offered her services to
+Isabelle without looking up, and in a low, subdued voice, as if she
+feared that the very walls had ears. Isabelle allowed her to take down
+and comb out her long, silky hair, which was very much dishevelled, and
+to arrange it again as she habitually wore it; which was quickly and
+skilfully done. Then the maid opened a wardrobe and took out several
+beautiful gowns, exquisitely made and trimmed, and just Isabelle’s
+size; but she would not even look at them, and sharply ordered that
+they should instantly be put back where they belonged, though her own
+dress was very much the worse for the rough treatment it had been
+subjected to on the preceding day, and it was a trial to the sweet,
+dainty creature to be so untidy. But she was determined to accept
+nothing from the duke, no matter how long her captivity might last. The
+maid did not insist, but acceded to her wishes with a mild, pitying
+air—just as indulgence is shown, as far as possible, to all the little
+whims and caprices of prisoners condemned to death. Isabelle would have
+liked to question her attendant, and endeavour to elicit some
+information from her, but the girl was more like an automaton than
+anything else, and it was impossible to gain more than a monosyllable
+from her lips. So Isabelle resigned herself with a sigh to her mute
+ministerings, not without a sort of vague terror.
+
+After the maid had retired, dinner was served as before, and Isabelle
+made a hearty meal—feeling that she must keep up her strength, and also
+hopeful of hearing something in a few hours more from her faithful
+lover. Her thoughts were all of him, and as she realized the dangers to
+which he would inevitably be exposed for her sake, her eyes filled with
+tears, and a sharp pang shot through her heart. She was angry with
+herself for being the cause of so much trouble, and fain to curse her
+own beauty—the unhappy occasion of it all. She was absorbed in these
+sad thoughts when a little noise as if a hail-stone had struck against
+the window pane, suddenly aroused her. She flew to the casement, and
+saw Chiquita, in the tree opposite, signing to her to open it, and
+swinging back and forth the long horse-hair cord, with the iron hook
+attached to it. She hastened to comply with the wishes of her strange
+little ally, and, as she stepped back in obedience to another sign, the
+hook, thrown with unerring aim, caught securely in the iron railing of
+the little balcony. Chiquita tied the other end of the cord to the
+branch to which she was clinging, and then began to cross over the
+intervening space as before; but ere she was half-way over, the knot
+gave way, and poor Isabelle for one moment of intense agony thought
+that the child was lost. But, instead of falling into the moat beneath
+her, Chiquita, who did not appear to be in the least disconcerted by
+this accident, swung over against the wall below the balcony, and
+climbing up the cord hand over hand, leaped lightly into the room,
+before Isabelle had recovered her breath. Finding her very pale, and
+tremulous, the child said smilingly, “You were frightened, eh? and
+thought Chiquita would fall down among the frogs in the moat. When I
+tied my cord to the branch, I only made a slip-knot, so that I could
+bring it back with me. I must have looked like a big spider climbing up
+its thread,” she added, with a laugh.
+
+“My dear child,” said Isabelle, with much feeling, and kissing
+Chiquita’s forehead, “you are a very brave little girl.”
+
+“I saw your friends. They had been searching and searching for you; but
+without Chiquita they would never have found out where you were hidden.
+The captain was rushing about like an angry lion—his eyes flashed
+fire—he was magnificent. I came back with him. He rode, and held me in
+front of him. He is hidden in a little wood not far off, he and his
+comrades—they must keep out of sight, you know. This evening, as soon
+as it is dark, they will try to get in here to you—by the tree, you
+know. There’s sure to be a scrimmage—pistol shots and swords
+clashing—oh! it will be splendid; for there’s nothing so fine as a good
+fight; when the men are in earnest, and fierce and brave. Now don’t you
+be frightened and scream, as silly women do; nothing upsets them like
+that. You must just remain perfectly quiet, and keep out of their way.
+If you like, I will come and stay by you, so that you will not be
+afraid.”
+
+“Don’t be uneasy about that, Chiquita! I will not annoy my brave
+friends, who come to save my life at the risk of their own, by any
+foolish fears or demonstrations; that I promise you.”
+
+“That’s right,” the child replied, “and until they come, you can defend
+yourself with my knife, you know. Don’t forget the proper way to use
+it. Strike like this, and then do so; you can rip him up beautifully.
+As for me, I’m going to hunt up a quiet corner where I can get a nap.
+No, I can’t stay here, for we must not be seen together; it would never
+do. Now do you be sure to keep away from that window. You must not even
+go near it, no matter what you hear, for fear they might suspect that
+you hoped for help from that direction. If they did, it would be all up
+with us; for they would send out and search the woods, and beat the
+bushes, and find our friends where they lie hidden. The whole thing
+would fall through, and you would have to stop here with this horrid
+duke that you hate so much.”
+
+“I will not go near the window,” Isabelle answered, “nor even look
+towards it, however much I may wish to. You may depend upon my
+discretion, Chiquita, I do assure you.”
+
+Reassured upon this important point, Chiquita crept softly away, and
+went back to the lower room where she had left the ruffians carousing.
+They were still there—lying about on the benches and the floor, in a
+drunken sleep, and evidently had not even missed her. She curled
+herself up in a corner, as far as might be from the loathsome brutes,
+and was asleep in a minute. The poor child was completely tired out;
+her slender little feet had travelled eight leagues the night before,
+running a good part of the way, and the return on horseback had perhaps
+fatigued her even more, being unaccustomed to it. Although her fragile
+little body had the strength and endurance of steel, she was worn out
+now, and lay, pale and motionless, in a sleep that seemed like death.
+
+“Dear me! how these children do sleep to be sure,” said Malartic, when
+he roused himself at last and looked about him. “In spite of our
+carouse, and all the noise we made, that little monkey in the corner
+there has never waked nor stirred. Halloa! wake up you fellows! drunken
+beasts that you are. Try to stand up on your hind legs, and go out in
+the court and dash a bucket of cold water over your cursed heads. The
+Circe of drunkenness has made swine of you in earnest—go and see if the
+baptism I recommend will turn you back into men, and then we’ll take a
+little look round the place, to make sure there’s no plot hatching to
+rescue the little beauty we have in charge.”
+
+The men scrambled to their feet slowly and with difficulty, and
+staggered out into the court as best they might, where the fresh air,
+and the treatment prescribed by Malartic, did a good deal towards
+reviving them; but they were a sorry looking set after all, and there
+were many aching heads among them. As soon as they were fit for it,
+Malartic took three of the least tipsy of them, and leading the way to
+a small postern that opened on the moat, unchained a row-boat lying
+there, crossed the broad ditch, ascended a steep flight of steps
+leading up the bank on the other side, and, leaving one man to guard
+the boat, proceeded to make a tour of inspection in the immediate
+vicinity of the château; fortunately without stumbling on the party
+concealed in the wood, or seeing anything to arouse their suspicions;
+so they returned to their quarters perfectly satisfied that there was
+no enemy lurking near.
+
+Meantime Isabelle, left quite alone, tried in vain to interest herself
+in a book she had found lying upon one of the side-tables. She read a
+few pages mechanically, and then, finding it impossible to fix her
+attention upon it, threw the volume from her and sat idly in front of
+the fire, which was blazing cheerily, thinking of her own true lover,
+and praying that he might be preserved from injury in the impending
+struggle. Evening came at last—a servant brought in lights, and soon
+after the major-domo announced a visit from the Duke of Vallombreuse.
+He entered at once, and greeted his fair captive with the most finished
+courtesy. He looked very handsome, in a superb suit of pearl gray
+satin, richly trimmed with crimson velvet, and Isabelle could not but
+admire his personal appearance, much as she detested his character.
+
+“I have come to see, my adorable Isabelle, whether _I_ shall be more
+kindly received than my flowers,” said he, drawing up a chair beside
+hers. “I have not the vanity to think so, but I want you to become
+accustomed to my presence. To-morrow another bouquet, and another
+visit.”
+
+“Both will be useless, my lord,” she replied, “though I am sorry to
+have to be so rude as to say so—but I had much better be perfectly
+frank with you.”
+
+“Ah, well!” rejoined the duke, with a malicious smile, “I will dispense
+with hope, and content myself with reality. You do not know, my poor
+child, what a Vallombreuse can do—you, who vainly try to resist him. He
+has never yet known what it was to have an unsatisfied desire—he
+invariably gains his ends, in spite of all opposition—nothing can stop
+him. Tears, supplication, laments, threats, even dead bodies and
+smoking ruins would not daunt him. Do not tempt him too powerfully, by
+throwing new obstacles in his way, you imprudent child!”
+
+Isabelle, frightened by the expression of his countenance as he spoke
+thus, instinctively pushed her chair farther away from his, and felt
+for Chiquita’s knife. But the wily duke, seeing that he had made a
+mistake, instantly changed his tone, and begging her pardon most humbly
+for his vehemence, endeavoured to persuade her, by many specious
+arguments, that she was wrong in persistently turning a deaf ear to his
+suit—setting forth at length, and in glowing words, all the advantages
+that would accrue to her if she would but yield to his wishes, and
+describing the happiness in store for her. While he was thus eloquently
+pleading his cause, Isabelle, who had given him only a divided
+attention, thought that she heard a peculiar little noise in the
+direction whence the longed-for aid was to come, and fearing that
+Vallombreuse might hear it also, hastened to answer him the instant
+that he paused, in a way to vex him still further—for she preferred his
+anger to his love-making. Also, she hoped that by quarrelling with him
+she would be able to prevent his perceiving the suspicious little
+sound—now growing louder and more noticeable.
+
+“The happiness that you so eloquently describe, my lord, would be for
+me a disgrace, which I am resolved to escape by death, if all other
+means fail me. You never shall have me living. Formerly I regarded you
+with indifference, but now I both hate and despise you, for your
+infamous, outrageous and violent behaviour to me, your helpless victim.
+Yes, I may as well tell you openly—and I glory in it—that I do love the
+Baron de Sigognac, whom you have more than once so basely tried to
+assassinate, through your miserable hired ruffians.”
+
+The strange noise still kept on, and Isabelle raised her voice to drown
+it. At her audacious, defiant words, so distinctly and impressively
+enunciated—hurled at him, as it were—Vallombreuse turned pale, and his
+eyes flashed ominously; a light foam gathered about the corners of his
+mouth, and he laid hold of the handle of his sword. For an instant he
+thought of killing Isabelle himself, then and there. If he could not
+have her, at least no one else should. But he relinquished that idea
+almost as soon as it occurred to him, and with a hard, forced laugh
+said, as he sprang up and advanced impetuously towards Isabelle, who
+retreated before him:
+
+“Now, by all the devils in hell, I cannot help admiring you immensely
+in this mood. It is a new role for you, and you are deucedly charming
+in it. You have got such a splendid colour, and your eyes are so
+bright—you are superb, I declare. I am greatly flattered at your
+blazing out into such dazzling beauty on my account—upon my word I am.
+You have done well to speak out openly—I hate deceit. So you love de
+Sigognac, do you? So much the better, say I—it will be all the sweeter
+to call you mine. It will be a pleasing variety to press ardent kisses
+upon sweet lips that say ‘I hate you,’ instead of the insipid,
+everlasting ‘I love you,’ that one gets a surfeit of from all the
+pretty women of one’s acquaintance.”
+
+Alarmed at this coarse language, and the threatening gestures that
+accompanied it, Isabelle started back and drew out Chiquita’s knife.
+
+“Bravo!” cried the duke—“here comes the traditional poniard. We are
+being treated to a bit of high tragedy. But, my fierce little beauty,
+if you are well up in your Roman history, you will remember that the
+chaste Mme. Lucretia did not make use of her dagger until _after_ the
+assault of Sextus, the bold son of Tarquin the Proud. That ancient and
+much-cited example is a good one to follow.”
+
+And without paying any more attention to the knife than to a bee-sting,
+he had violently seized Isabelle in his arms before she could raise it
+to strike.
+
+Just at that moment a loud cracking noise was heard, followed by a
+tremendous crash, and the casement fell clattering to the floor, with
+every pane of glass in it shattered; as if a giant had put his knee
+against it and broken it in; while a mass of branches protruded through
+the opening into the room. It was the top of the tree that Chiquita had
+made such good use of as a way of escape and return. The trunk, sawed
+nearly through by de Sigognac and his companions, was guided in its
+fall so as to make a means of access to Isabelle’s window; both
+bridging the moat, and answering all the purposes of a ladder.
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse, astonished at this most extraordinary
+intrusion upon his love-making, released his trembling victim, and drew
+his sword. Chiquita, who had crept into the room unperceived when the
+crash came, pulled Isabelle’s sleeve and whispered, “Come into this
+corner, out of the way; the dance is going to begin.”
+
+As she spoke, several pistol shots were heard without, and four of the
+duke’s ruffians—who were doing garrison duty came rushing up the
+stairs, four steps at a time, and dashed into the room-sword in hand,
+and eager for the fray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+THE AMETHYST RING
+
+
+The topmost branches of the tree, protruding through the window,
+rendered the centre of the room untenable, so Malartic and his three
+aids ranged themselves two and two against the wall on either side of
+it, armed with pistols and swords—ready to give the assailants a warm
+welcome.
+
+“You had better retire, my lord duke, or else put on a mask,” whispered
+Malartic to the young nobleman, “so that you may not be seen and
+recognised in this affair.”
+
+“What do I care?” cried Vallombreuse, flourishing his sword. “I am not
+afraid of anybody in the world—and besides, those who see me will never
+go away from this to tell of it.”
+
+“But at least your lordship will place this second Helen in some safe
+retreat. A stray bullet might so easily deprive your highness of the
+prize that cost so dear—and it would be such a pity.”
+
+The duke, finding this advice judicious, went at once over to where
+Isabelle was standing beside Chiquita, and throwing his arms round her
+attempted to carry her into the next room. The poor girl made a
+desperate resistance, and slipping from the duke’s grasp rushed to the
+window, regardless of danger, crying, “Save me, de Sigognac! save me!”
+A voice from without answered, “I am coming,” but, before he could
+reach the window, Vallombreuse had again seized his prey, and succeeded
+in carrying her into the adjoining room, closing and bolting the stout
+oaken door behind him just as de Sigognac bounded into the chamber he
+had quitted. His entrance was so sudden, and so swiftly and boldly
+made, that he entirely escaped the pistol shots aimed at him, and the
+four bullets all fell harmless. When the smoke had cleared away and the
+“garrison” saw that he was unhurt, a murmur of astonishment arose, and
+one of the men exclaimed aloud that Captain Fracasse—the only name by
+which _they_ knew him—must bear a charmed life; whereupon, Malartic
+cried, “Leave him to me, I’ll soon finish him, and do you three keep a
+strict guard over the window there; for there will be more to follow
+this one if I am not mistaken.”
+
+But he did not find his self-imposed task as easy as he supposed—for de
+Sigognac was ready for him, and gave him plenty to do, though his
+surprise and disappointment were overwhelming when he found that
+Isabelle was nowhere to be seen.
+
+“Where is she?” he cried impetuously. “Where is Isabelle? I heard her
+voice in here only a moment ago.”
+
+“Don’t ask me!” Malartic retorted. “_You_ didn’t give her into my
+charge.” And all this time their swords were flashing and clashing, as
+the combat between them grew more animated.
+
+A moment later, before the men had finished reloading their pistols,
+Scapin dashed in through the window, throwing a remarkable somersault
+like an acrobat as he came, and seeing that the three ruffians had laid
+down their swords beside them on the floor while attending to their
+other weapons, he seized upon them all, ere their owners had recovered
+from their astonishment at his extraordinary advent, and hurled them
+through the broken casement down into the moat. Then, laying hold of
+one of the three from behind, and pinning down his arms securely, he
+placed him in front of himself for a shield—turning him dexterously
+this way and that, in order to keep his body always between his own and
+the enemy; so that they dared not fire upon him lest they should kill
+their comrade, who was vehemently beseeching them to spare his life,
+and vainly struggling to escape from Scapin’s iron grip.
+
+The combat between de Sigognac and Malartic was still going on, but at
+last, the baron—who had already wounded his adversary slightly, and
+whose agony and desperation at being kept from prosecuting his search
+for Isabelle were intense—wrested Malartic’s sword from his grasp, by a
+dexterous manœuvre with his own, and putting his foot upon it as it lay
+on the floor raised the point of his blade to the professional
+ruffian’s throat, crying “Surrender, or you are a dead man!”
+
+At this critical moment another one of the besieging party burst in
+through the window, who, seeing at a glance how matters stood, said to
+Malartic in an authoritative tone, “You can surrender without dishonour
+to this valiant hero—you are entirely at his mercy. You have done your
+duty loyally—now consider yourself a prisoner of war.”
+
+Then turning to de Sigognac, he said, “You may trust his word, for he
+is an honourable fellow in his way, and will not molest you again—I
+will answer for him.”
+
+Malartic made a gesture of acquiescence, and the baron let him
+go—whereupon the discomfited bully picked up his sword, and with a
+crestfallen air walked off very disconsolately to a corner, where he
+sat down and occupied himself in staunching the blood that was flowing
+from his wound. The other three men were quickly conquered, and, at the
+suggestion of the latest comer, were securely bound hand and foot as
+they lay upon the floor, and then left to reflect upon their
+misfortunes.
+
+“They can’t do any more mischief now,” said Jacquemin Lampourde,
+mockingly; for it was that famous fighting man in person, who, in his
+enthusiastic admiration, or rather adoration, for de Sigognac, had
+offered his services on this momentous occasion—services by no means to
+be despised. As to the brave Hérode, he was doing good service in
+fighting the rest of the garrison below. They had hastened out and
+crossed the moat in the little row-boat as quickly as possible after
+the alarm was given, but arrived too late, as we have seen, to prevent
+the assailants from ascending their strange scaling ladder. So they
+determined to follow, hoping to overtake and dislodge some of them. But
+Hérode, who had found the upper branches bending and cracking in a very
+ominous manner under his great weight, was forced to turn about and
+make his way back to the main trunk, where, under cover of darkness, he
+quietly awaited the climbing foe. Mérindol, who commanded this
+detachment of the garrison, was first, and being completely taken by
+surprise was easily dislodged and thrown down into the water below. The
+next one, aroused to a sense of his danger by this, pulled out a pistol
+and fired, but in the agitation of the moment, and the darkness, missed
+his aim, so that he was entirely at the tyrant’s mercy, and in an
+instant was held suspended over the deep waters of the moat. He clung
+desperately to a little branch he had managed to lay hold of, and made
+such a brave fight for his life, that Hérode, who was merciful by
+nature, though so fierce of aspect, decided to make terms with him, if
+he could do so without injuring the interests of his own party; and
+upon receiving a solemn promise from him to remain strictly neutral
+during the remainder of the fray, the powerful actor lifted him up,
+with the greatest ease, and seated him in safety upon the tree-trunk
+again. The poor fellow was so grateful that he was even better than his
+word, for, making use of the password and giving a pretended order from
+Mérindol to the other two, who were some distance behind him and
+ignorant of what had happened, he sent them off post-haste to attend to
+an imaginary foe at some distance from the château; availing himself of
+their absence to make good his escape, after heartily thanking Hérode
+for his clemency. The moon was just rising, and by its light the tyrant
+spied the little row-boat, lying not very far off at the foot of a
+flight of steps in the steep bank, and he was not slow to make use of
+it to cross the moat, and penetrate into the interior court of the
+château—the postern having been fortunately left open. Looking about
+him, to see how he could best rejoin his comrades within the building,
+his eyes fell upon the porch guarded by the two huge, calm sphinxes,
+and he wisely concluded that through it must lie his way to the scene
+of action.
+
+Meantime de Sigognac, Scapin and Lampourde, having a chance to look
+about them, were horrified to find that they were prisoners in the room
+where the battle had been fought. In vain they tried to burst open the
+stout oaken door which was their only means of egress—for the tree had,
+but a moment before, given way and fallen with a loud crash into the
+moat; in vain they strove to cut through one of the panels, or force
+the lock from its fastenings. To de Sigognac this delay was maddening,
+for he knew that the Duke of Vallombreuse had carried Isabelle away,
+and that he must still be with her. He worked like a giant himself, and
+incited the others to redouble their efforts; making battering rams of
+various pieces of furniture—resorting to every means that their
+ingenuity could devise—but without making the least impression on the
+massive barrier. They had paused in dismay, when suddenly a slight,
+grinding noise was heard, like a key turning in a lock, and the door,
+so unsuccessfully attacked, opened as if by magic before them.
+
+“What good angel has come to our aid?” cried de Sigognac; “and by what
+miracle does this door open of itself, after having so stoutly resisted
+all our efforts?”
+
+“There is neither angel nor miracle; only Chiquita,” answered a quiet
+little voice, as the child appeared from behind the door, and fixed her
+great, dark, liquid eyes calmly on de Sigognac. She had managed to slip
+out with Vallombreuse and Isabelle, entirely unnoticed by the former,
+and in the hope of being of use to the latter.
+
+“Where is Isabelle?” cried the baron, as he crossed the threshold and
+looked anxiously round the anteroom, which was dimly lighted by one
+little flickering lamp. For a moment he did not perceive her; the Duke
+of Vallombreuse, surprised at the sudden opening of the door, which he
+had believed to be securely fastened and impenetrable, had retreated
+into a corner, and placed Isabelle, who was almost fainting from terror
+and exhaustion, behind him. She had sunk upon her knees, with her head
+leaning against the wall, her long hair, which had come down, falling
+about her, and her dress in the utmost disorder; for she had struggled
+desperately in the arms of her captor; who, feeling that his fair
+victim was about to escape from his clutches, had vainly striven to
+snatch a few kisses from the sweet lips so temptingly near his own.
+
+“Here she is,” said Chiquita, “in this corner, behind the Duke of
+Vallombreuse; but to get to her you must first kill him.”
+
+“Of course I shall kill him,” cried de Sigognac, advancing sword in
+hand towards the young duke, who was ready to receive him.
+
+“We shall see about that, Sir Captain Fracasse—doughty knight of
+_Bohémiennes!_” said Vallombreuse disdainfully, and the conflict began.
+The duke was not de Sigognac’s equal at this kind of work, but still he
+was skilful and brave, and had had too much good instruction to handle
+his sword like a broom-stick, as Lampourde expressed it. He stood
+entirely upon the defensive, and was exceedingly wary and prudent,
+hoping, as his adversary must be already considerably fatigued by his
+encounter with Malartic, that he might be able to get the better of him
+this time, and retrieve his previous defeat. At the very beginning he
+had succeeded in raising a small silver whistle to his lips with his
+left hand—and its shrill summons brought five or six armed attendants
+into the room.
+
+“Carry away this woman,” he cried, “and put out those two rascals. I
+will take care of the captain myself.”
+
+The sudden interruption of these fresh forces astonished de Sigognac,
+and as he saw two of the men lift up and carry off Isabelle—who had
+fainted quite away—he was thrown for an instant off his guard, and very
+nearly run through the body by his opponent.
+
+Roused to a sense of his danger, he attacked the duke with renewed
+fury, and with a terrible thrust, that made him reel, wounded him
+seriously in the upper part of the chest.
+
+Meanwhile Lampourde and Scapin had shown the duke’s lackeys that it
+would not be a very easy matter to put them out, and were handling them
+rather roughly, when the cowardly fellows, seeing that their master was
+wounded, and leaning against the wall, deathly pale, thought that he
+was done for, and although they were fully armed, took to their heels
+and fled, deaf to his feeble cry for assistance. While all this was
+going on, the tyrant was making his way up the grand staircase, as fast
+as his corpulence would permit, and reached the top just in time to see
+Isabelle, pale, dishevelled, motionless, and apparently dead, being
+borne along the corridor by two lackeys. Without stopping to make any
+inquiries, and full of wrath at the thought that the sweet girl had
+fallen a victim to the wickedness of the cruel Duke of Vallombreuse, he
+drew his sword, and fell upon the two men with such fury that they
+dropped their light burden and fled down the stairs as fast as their
+legs could carry them. Then he knelt down beside the unconscious girl,
+raised her gently in his arms, and found that her heart was beating,
+though but feebly, and that she apparently had no wound, while she
+sighed faintly, like a person beginning to revive after a swoon. In
+this position he was found by de Sigognac, who had effectually gotten
+rid of Vallombreuse, by the famous and well-directed thrust that had
+thrown Jacquemin Lampourde into a rapture of admiration and delight. He
+knelt down beside his darling, took both her hands in his, and said, in
+the most tender tones, that Isabelle heard vaguely as if in a dream:
+
+“Rouse yourself, dear heart, and fear nothing. You are safe now, with
+your own friends, and your own true lover—nobody can harm or frighten
+you again.”
+
+Although she did not yet open her eyes, a faint smile dawned upon the
+colourless lips, and her cold, trembling, little fingers feebly
+returned the tender pressure of de Sigognac’s warm hands. Lampourde
+stood by, and looked down with tearful eyes upon this touching
+group—for he was exceedingly romantic and sentimental, and always
+intensely interested in a love affair. Suddenly, in the midst of the
+profound silence that had succeeded to the uproar of the mêlée, the
+winding of a horn was heard without, and in a moment energetically
+repeated. It was evidently a summons that had to be instantly obeyed;
+the drawbridge was lowered in haste, with a great rattling of chains,
+and a carriage driven rapidly into the court, while the red flaring
+light of torches flashed through the windows of the corridor. In
+another minute the door of the vestibule was thrown open, and hasty
+steps ascended the grand staircase. First came four tall lackeys, in
+rich liveries, carrying lights, and directly behind them a tall,
+noble-looking man, who was dressed from head to foot in black velvet,
+with an order shining on his breast—of those that are usually reserved
+for kings and princes of the blood, and only very exceptionally
+bestowed, upon the most illustrious personages.
+
+When the four lackeys reached the landing at the head of the stairs,
+they silently ranged themselves against the wall, and stood like
+statues bearing torches; without the raising of an eyelid, or the
+slightest change in the stolid expression of their countenances to
+indicate that they perceived anything out of the usual way—exhibiting
+in perfection that miraculous imperturbability and self-command which
+is peculiar to well-bred, thoroughly trained menservants. The gentleman
+whom they had preceded paused ere he stepped upon the landing. Although
+age had brought wrinkles to his handsome face, and turned his abundant
+dark hair gray, it was still easy to recognise in him the original of
+the portrait that had so fascinated Isabelle, and whose protection she
+had passionately implored in her distress.
+
+It was the princely father of Vallombreuse—the son bearing a different
+name, that of a duchy he possessed, until he in his turn should become
+the head of the family, and succeed to the title of prince.
+
+At sight of Isabelle, supported by de Sigognac and the tyrant, whose
+ghastly pallor made her look like one dead, the aged gentleman raised
+his arms towards heaven and groaned.
+
+“Alas! I am too late,” said he, “for all the haste I made,” and
+advancing a few steps he bent over the prostrate girl, and took her
+lifeless hand in his. Upon this hand, white, cold and diaphanous, as if
+it had been sculptured in alabaster, shone a ring, set with an amethyst
+of unusual size. The old nobleman seemed strangely agitated as it
+caught his eye. He drew it gently from Isabelle’s slender finger, with
+a trembling hand signed to one of the torch-bearers to bring his light
+nearer, and by it eagerly examined the device cut upon the stone; first
+holding it close to the light and then at arm’s length; as those whose
+eyesight is impaired by age are wont to do. The Baron de Sigognac,
+Hérode and Lampourde anxiously watched the agitated movements of the
+prince, and his change of expression, as he contemplated this jewel,
+which he seemed to recognise; and which he turned and twisted between
+his fingers, with a pained look in his face, as if some great trouble
+had befallen him.
+
+“Where is the Duke of Vallombreuse?” he cried at last, in a voice of
+thunder. “Where is that monster in human shape, who is unworthy of my
+race?”
+
+He had recognised, without a possibility of doubt, in this ring, the
+one bearing a fanciful device, with which he had been accustomed, long
+ago, to seal the notes he wrote to Cornelia—Isabelle’s mother, and his
+own youthful love. How happened it that this ring was on the finger of
+the young actress, who had been forcibly and shamefully abducted by
+Vallombreuse? From whom could she have received it? These questions
+were torturing to him.
+
+“Can it be possible that she is Cornelia’s daughter and mine?” said the
+prince to himself. “Her profession, her age, her sweet face, in which I
+can trace a softened, beautified likeness of her mother’s, but which
+has a peculiarly high bred, refined expression, worthy of a royal
+princess, all combine to make me believe it must be so. Then, alas!
+alas! it is his own sister that this cursed libertine has so wronged,
+and he has been guilty of a horrible, horrible crime. Oh! I am cruelly
+punished for my youthful folly and sin.”
+
+Isabelle at length opened her eyes, and her first look fell upon the
+prince, holding the ring that he had drawn from her finger. It seemed
+to her as if she had seen his face before—but in youth, without the
+gray hair and beard. It seemed also to be an aged copy of the portrait
+over the chimney-piece in her room, and a feeling of profound
+veneration filled her heart as she gazed at him. She saw, too, her
+beloved de Sigognac kneeling beside her, watching her with tenderest
+devotion; and the worthy tyrant as well—both safe and sound. To the
+horrors of the terrible struggle had succeeded the peace and security
+of deliverance. She had nothing more to fear, for her friends or for
+herself—how could she ever be thankful enough?
+
+The prince, who had been gazing at her with passionate earnestness, as
+if her fair face possessed an irresistible charm for him, now addressed
+her in low, moved tones:
+
+“Mademoiselle, will you kindly tell me how you came by this ring, which
+recalls very dear and sacred memories to me? Has it been long in your
+possession?”
+
+“I have had it ever since my infancy; it is the only thing that my poor
+mother left me,” Isabelle replied, with gentle dignity.
+
+“And who was your mother? Will you, tell me something about her?”
+continued the prince, with increasing emotion.
+
+“Her name was Cornelia, and she was an actress, belonging to the same
+troupe that I am a member of now.”
+
+“Cornelia! then there is no possible doubt about it,” murmured the
+prince to himself, in great agitation. “Yes, it is certainly she whom I
+have been seeking all these years—and now to find her thus!”
+
+Then, controlling his emotion, he resumed his usual calm, majestic
+demeanour, and turning back to Isabelle, said to her, “Permit me to
+keep this ring for the present; I will soon give it back to you.”
+
+“I am content to leave it in your lordship’s hands,” the young actress
+replied, in whose mind the memory of a face, that she had seen long
+years ago bending over her cradle, was growing clearer and more
+distinct every moment.
+
+“Gentlemen,” said the prince, turning to de Sigognac and his
+companions, “under any other circumstances I might find your presence
+here, in my château, with arms in your hands, unwarranted, but I am
+aware of the necessity that drove you to forcibly invade this mansion,
+hitherto sacred from such scenes as this—I know that violence must be
+met with violence, and justifies it; therefore I shall take no further
+notice of what has happened here to-night, and you need have no fears
+of any evil consequences to yourselves because of your share in it. But
+where is the Duke of Vallombreuse? that degenerate son who disgraces my
+old age.”
+
+As if in obedience to his father’s call, the young duke at that moment
+appeared upon the threshold of the door leading into what had been
+Isabelle’s apartment, supported by Malartic. He was frightfully pale,
+and his clinched hand pressed a handkerchief tightly upon his wounded
+chest. He came forward with difficulty, looking like a ghost. Only a
+strong effort of will kept him from falling—an effort that gave to his
+face the immobility of a marble mask. He had heard the voice of his
+father, whom, depraved and shameless as he was, he yet respected and
+dreaded, and he hoped to be able to conceal his wound from him. He bit
+his lips so as not to cry out or groan in his agony, and resolutely
+swallowed down the bloody foam that kept rising and filling his mouth.
+He even took off his hat, in spite of the frightful pain the raising of
+his arm caused him, and stood uncovered and silent before his angry
+parent.
+
+“Sir,” said the prince, severely, “your misdeeds transcend all limits,
+and your behaviour is such that I shall be forced to implore the king
+to send you to prison, or into exile. You are not fit to be at large.
+Abduction—imprisonment—criminal assault. These are not simple
+gallantries; and though I might be willing to pardon and overlook many
+excesses, committed in the wildness of licentious youth, I never could
+bring myself to forgive a deliberate and premeditated crime. Do you
+know, you monster,” he continued approaching Vallombreuse, and
+whispering in his ear, so that no one else could hear, “do you know who
+this young girl is? this good and chaste Isabelle, whom you have
+forcibly abducted, in spite of her determined and virtuous resistance!
+She is your own sister!
+
+“May she replace the son you are about to lose,” the young duke
+replied, attacked by a sudden faintness, and an agony of pain which he
+felt that he could not long endure and live; “but I am not as guilty as
+you suppose. Isabelle is pure—stainless. I swear it, by the God before
+whom I must shortly appear. Death does not lie, and you may believe
+what I say, upon the word of a dying gentleman.”
+
+These words were uttered loudly and distinctly, so as to be heard by
+all. Isabelle turned her beautiful eyes, wet with tears, upon de
+Sigognac, and read in those of her true and faithful lover that he had
+not waited for the solemn attestation, “in extremis,” of the Duke of
+Vallombreuse to believe in the perfect purity of her whom he adored.
+
+“But what is the matter?” asked the prince, holding out his hand to his
+son, who staggered and swayed to and fro in spite of Malartic’s efforts
+to support him, and whose face was fairly livid.
+
+“Nothing, father,” answered Vallombreuse, in a scarcely articulate
+voice, “nothing—only I am dying”—and he fell at full length on the
+floor before the prince could clasp him in his arms, as he endeavoured
+to do.
+
+“He did not fall on his face,” said Jacquemin Lampourde, sententiously;
+“it’s nothing but a fainting fit. He may escape yet. We duellists are
+familiar with this sort of thing, my lord; a great deal more so than
+most medical men, and you may depend upon what I say.”
+
+“A doctor! a doctor!” cried the prince, forgetting his anger as he saw
+his son lying apparently lifeless at his feet. “Perhaps this man is
+right, and there may be some hope for him yet. A fortune to whomsoever
+will save my son!—my only son!—the last scion of a noble race. Go! run
+quickly! What are you about there?—don’t you understand me? Go, I say,
+and run as fast as you can; take the fleetest horse in the stable.”
+
+Whereupon two of the imperturbable lackeys, who had held their torches
+throughout this exciting scene without moving a muscle, hastened off to
+execute their master’s orders. Some of his own servants now came
+forward, raised up the unconscious Duke of Vallombreuse with every
+possible care and precaution, and by his father’s command carried him
+to his own room and laid him on his own bed, the aged prince following,
+with a face from which grief and anxiety had already driven away all
+traces of anger. He saw his race extinct in the death of this son, whom
+he so dearly loved—despite his fault—and whose vices he forgot for the
+moment, remembering only his brilliant and lovable qualities. A
+profound melancholy took complete possession of him, as he stood for a
+few moments plunged in a sorrowful reverie that everybody respected.
+
+Isabelle, entirely revived, and no longer feeling at all faint, had
+risen to her feet, and now stood between de Sigognac and the tyrant,
+adjusting, with a trembling hand, her disordered dress and dishevelled
+hair. Lampourde and Scapin had retired to a little distance from them,
+and held themselves modestly aloof, whilst the men within, still bound
+hand and foot, kept as quiet as possible; fearful of their fate if
+brought to the prince’s notice. At length that aged nobleman returned,
+and breaking the terrible silence that had weighed upon all, said, in
+severe tones, “Let all those who placed their services at the
+disposition of the Duke of Vallombreuse, to aid him in indulging his
+evil passions and committing a terrible crime, quit this château
+instantly. I will refrain from placing you in the hands of the public
+executioner, though you richly deserve it. Go now! vanish! get ye back
+to your lairs! and rest assured that justice will not fail to overtake
+you at last.”
+
+These words were not complimentary, but the trembling offenders were
+thankful to get off so easily, and the ruffians, whom Lampourde and
+Scapin had unbound, followed Malartic down the stairs in silence,
+without daring to claim their promised reward. When they had
+disappeared, the prince advanced and took Isabelle by the hand, and
+gently detaching her from the group of which she had formed a part, led
+her over to where he had been standing, and kept her beside him.
+
+“Stay here, mademoiselle,” he said; “your place is henceforth by my
+side. It is the least that you can do to fulfil your duty as my
+daughter, since you are the innocent means of depriving me of my son.”
+And he wiped away a tear, that, despite all his efforts to control his
+grief, rolled down his withered cheek. Then turning to de Sigognac, he
+said, with an incomparably noble gesture, “Sir, you are at liberty to
+withdraw, with your brave companions. Isabelle will have nothing to
+fear under her father’s protection, and this château will be her home
+for the present. Now that her birth is made known it is not fitting
+that my daughter should return to Paris with you. I thank you, though
+it costs me the hope of perpetuating my race, for having spared my son
+a disgraceful action—what do I say? An abominable crime. I would rather
+have a bloodstain on my escutcheon than a dishonourable blot. Since
+Vallombreuse was infamous in his conduct, you have done well to kill
+him. You have acted like a true gentleman, which I am assured that you
+are, in chivalrously protecting weakness, innocence and virtue. You are
+nobly in the right. That my daughter’s honour has been preserved
+unstained, I owe to you—and it compensates me for the loss of my son—at
+least my reason tells me that it should do so; but the father’s heart
+rebels, and unjust ideas of revenge might arise, which I should find it
+difficult to conquer and set at rest. Therefore you had better go your
+way now, and whatever the result may be I will not pursue or molest
+you. I will try to forget that a terrible necessity turned your sword
+against my son’s life.”
+
+“My lord,” said de Sigognac, with profound respect, “I feel so keenly
+for your grief as a father, that I would have accepted any reproaches,
+no matter how bitter and unjust, from you, without one word of protest
+or feeling of resentment; even though I cannot reproach myself for my
+share in this disastrous conflict. I do not wish to say anything to
+justify myself in your eyes, at the expense of the unhappy Duke of
+Vallombreuse, but I beg you to believe that this quarrel was not of my
+seeking. He persistently threw himself in my way, and I have done
+everything I could to spare him, in more than one encounter. Even here
+it was his own blind fury that led to his being wounded. I leave
+Isabelle, who is dearer to me than my own soul, in your hands, and
+shall grieve my whole life long for this sad victory; which is a
+veritable and terrible defeat for me, since it destroys my happiness.
+Ah! if only I could have been slain myself, instead of your unhappy
+son; it would have been better and happier for me.”
+
+He bowed with grave dignity to the prince, who courteously returned his
+salute, exchanged a long look, eloquent of passionate love and
+heart-breaking regret, with Isabelle, and went sadly down the grand
+staircase, followed by his companions—not however without glancing back
+more than once at the sweet girl he was leaving—who to save herself
+from falling, leaned heavily against the railing of the landing,
+sobbing as if her heart would break, and pressing a handkerchief to her
+streaming eyes. And, so strange a thing is the human heart, the Baron
+de Sigognac departed much comforted by the bitter grief and tears of
+her whom he so devotedly loved and worshipped. He and his friends went
+on foot to the little wood where they had left their horses tied to the
+trees, found them undisturbed, mounted and returned to Paris.
+
+“What do you think, my lord, of all these wonderful events?” said the
+tyrant, after a long silence, to de Sigognac, beside whom he was
+riding. “It all ends up like a regular tragi-comedy. Who would ever
+have dreamed, in the midst of the mêlée, of the sudden entrance upon
+the scene of the grand old princely father, preceded by torches, and
+coming to put a little wholesome restraint on the too atrociously
+outrageous pranks of his dissolute young son? And then the recognition
+of Isabelle as his daughter, by means of the ring with a peculiar
+device of his own engraved upon it; haven’t you seen exactly the same
+sort of thing on the stage? But, after all, it is not so surprising
+perhaps as it seems at the first glance—since the theatre is only a
+copy of real life. Therefore, real life should resemble it, just as the
+original does the portrait, eh? I have always heard that our sweet
+little actress was of noble birth. Blazius and old Mme. Léonarde
+remember seeing the prince when he was devoted to Cornelia. The duenna
+has often tried to persuade Isabelle to seek out her father, but she is
+of too modest and gentle a nature to take a step of that kind; not
+wishing to intrude upon a family that might reject her, and willing to
+content herself in her own lowly, position.”
+
+“Yes, I knew all about that,” rejoined de Sigognac, “for Isabelle told
+me some time ago her mother’s history, and spoke of the ring; but
+without attaching any importance to the fact of her illustrious origin.
+It is very evident, however, from the nobility and delicacy of her
+nature, without any other proof, that princely blood flows in her
+veins; and also the refined, pure, elevated type of her beauty
+testifies to her descent. But what a terrible fatality that this cursed
+Vallombreuse should turn out to be her brother! There is a dead body
+between us now—a stream of blood separates us—and yet, I could not save
+her honour in any other way. Unhappy mortal that I am! I have myself
+created the obstacle upon which my love is wrecked, and killed my hopes
+of future bliss with the very sword that defended the purity of the
+woman I adore. In guarding her I love, I have put her away from me
+forever. How could I go now and present myself to Isabelle with
+blood-stained hands? Alas! that the blood which I was forced to shed in
+her defence should have been her brother’s. Even if she, in her
+heavenly goodness, could forgive me, and look upon me without a feeling
+of horror, the prince, her father, would repulse and curse me as the
+murderer of his only son. I was born, alas! under an unlucky star.”
+
+“Yes, it is all very sad and lamentable, certainly,” said the tyrant;
+“but worse entanglements than this have come out all right in the end.
+You must remember that the Duke of Vallombreuse is only half-brother to
+Isabelle, and that they were aware of the relationship but for a few
+minutes before he fell dead at our feet; which must make a great
+difference in her feelings. And besides, she hated that overbearing
+nobleman, who pursued her so cruelly with his violent and scandalous
+gallantries. The prince himself was far from being satisfied with his
+wretched son—who was ferocious as Nero, dissolute as Heliogabalus, and
+perverse as Satan himself, and who would have been hanged ten times
+over if he had not been a duke. Do not be so disheartened! things may
+turn out a great deal better than you think now.”
+
+“God grant it, my good Hérode,” said de Sigognac fervently. “But
+naturally I cannot feel happy about it. It would have been far better
+for all if I had been killed instead of the duke, since Isabelle would
+have been safe from his criminal pursuit under her father’s care. And
+then, I may as well tell you all, a secret horror froze the very marrow
+in my bones when I saw that handsome young man, but a moment before so
+full of life, fire, and passion, fall lifeless, pale and stiff at my
+feet. Hérode, the death of a man is a grave thing, and though I cannot
+suffer from remorse for this one, since I have committed no crime,
+still, all the time I see Vallombreuse before me, lying, motionless and
+ghastly, with the blood oozing slowly from his wound. It haunts me. I
+cannot drive the horrid sight away.”
+
+“That is all wrong,” said the tyrant, soothingly—for the other was much
+excited—“for you could not have done otherwise. Your conscience should
+not reproach you. You have acted throughout, from the very beginning to
+the end, like the noble gentleman that you are. These scruples are
+owing to exhaustion, to the feverishness due to the excitement you have
+gone through, and the chill from the night air. We will gallop on
+swiftly in a moment, to set our blood flowing more freely, and drive
+away these sad thoughts of yours. But one thing must be promptly done;
+you must quit Paris, forthwith, and retire for a time to some quiet
+retreat, until all this trouble is forgotten. The violent death of the
+Duke of Vallombreuse will make a stir at the court, and in the city, no
+matter how much pains may be taken to keep the facts from the public,
+and, although he was not at all popular, indeed very much the reverse,
+there will be much regret expressed, and you will probably be severely
+blamed. But now let us put spurs to these lazy steeds of ours, and try
+to get on a little faster.”
+
+While they are galloping towards Paris, we will return to the
+château—as quiet now as it had been noisy a little while before. In the
+young duke’s room, a candelabrum, with several branches, stood on a
+round table, so that the light from the candles fell upon the bed,
+where he lay with closed eyes, as motionless as a corpse, and as pale.
+The walls of the large chamber, above a high wainscot of ebony picked
+out with gold, were hung with superb tapestry, representing the history
+of Medea and Jason, with all its murderous and revolting details. Here,
+Medea was seen cutting the body of Pelias into pieces, under pretext of
+restoring his youth—there, the madly jealous woman and unnatural mother
+was murdering her own children; in another panel she was fleeing,
+surfeited with vengeance, in her chariot, drawn by huge dragons
+breathing out flames of fire. The tapestry was certainly magnificent in
+quality and workmanship, rich in colouring, artistic in design, and
+very costly—but inexpressibly repulsive. These mythological horrors
+gave the luxurious room an intensely disagreeable, lugubrious aspect,
+and testified to the natural ferocity and cruelty of the person who had
+selected them. Behind the bed the crimson silk curtains had been drawn
+apart, exposing to view the representation of Jason’s terrible conflict
+with the fierce, brazen bulls that guarded the golden fleece, and
+Vallombreuse, lying senseless below them, looked as if he might have
+been one of their victims. Various suits of clothes, of the greatest
+richness and elegance, which had been successively tried on and
+rejected, were scattered about, and in a splendid great Japanese vase,
+standing on an ebony table near the head of the bed, was a bouquet of
+beautiful flowers, destined to replace the one Isabelle had already
+refused to receive—its glowing tints making a strange contrast with the
+death-like face, which was whiter than the snowy pillow it rested on.
+The prince, sitting in an arm-chair beside the bed, gazed at his
+unconscious son with mournful intentness, and bent down from time to
+time to listen at the slightly parted lips; but no fluttering breath
+came through them; all was still. Never had the young duke looked
+handsomer. The haughty, fierce expression, habitual with him, had given
+place to a serenity that was wonderfully beautiful, though so like
+death. As the father contemplated the perfect face and form, so soon to
+crumble into dust, he forgot, in his overwhelming grief, that the soul
+of a demon had animated it, and he thought sorrowfully of the great
+name that had been revered and honoured for centuries past, but which
+could not go down to centuries to come. More even than the death of his
+son did he mourn for the extinction of his home.
+
+Isabelle stood at the foot of the bed, with clasped hands, praying with
+her whole soul for this new-found brother, who had expiated his crime
+with his life—the crime of loving too much, which woman pardons so
+easily.
+
+The prince, who had been for some time holding his son’s icy cold hand
+between both his own, suddenly thought that he could feel a slight
+warmth in it, and not realizing that he himself had imparted it,
+allowed himself to hope again.
+
+“Will the doctor never come?” he cried impatiently; “something may yet
+be done; I am persuaded of it.”
+
+Even as he spoke the door opened, and the surgeon appeared, followed by
+an assistant carrying a case of instruments. He bowed to the prince,
+and without saying one word went straight to the bedside, felt the
+patient’s pulse, put his hand over his heart, and shook his head
+despondingly. However, to make sure, he drew a little mirror of
+polished steel from his pocket, removed it from its case, and held it
+for a moment over the parted lips; then, upon examining its surface
+closely, he found that a slight dimness was visible upon it. Surprised
+at this unexpected indication of life, he repeated the experiment, and
+again the little mirror was dimmed—Isabelle and the prince meantime
+breathlessly watching every movement, and even the expression of the
+doctor’s face.
+
+“Life is not entirely extinct,” he said at last, turning to the anxious
+father, as he wiped the polished surface of his tiny mirror. “The
+patient still breathes, and as long as there is life there is hope, But
+do not give yourself up to a premature joy that might render your grief
+more bitter afterwards. I only say that the Duke of Vallombreuse has
+not yet breathed his last; that is all. Now, I am going to probe the
+wound, which perhaps is not fatal, as it did not kill him at once.”
+
+“You must not stay here, Isabelle,” said the prince, tenderly; “such
+sights are too trying for a young girl like you. Go to your own room
+now, my dear, and I will let you know the doctor’s verdict as soon as
+he has pronounced it.”
+
+Isabelle accordingly withdrew, and was conducted to an apartment that
+had been made ready for her; the one she had occupied being all in
+disorder after the terrible scenes that had been enacted there.
+
+The surgeon proceeded with his examination, and when it was finished
+said to the prince, “My lord, will you please to order a cot put up in
+that corner yonder, and have a light supper sent in for my assistant
+and myself? We shall remain for the night with the Duke of
+Vallombreuse, and take turns in watching him. I must be with him
+constantly, so as to note every symptom; to combat promptly those that
+are unfavorable, and aid those that are the reverse. Your highness may
+trust everything to me, and feel assured that all that human skill and
+science can do towards saving your son’s life shall be faithfully done.
+Let me advise you to go to your own room now and try to get some rest;
+I think I may safely answer for my patient’s life until the morning.”
+
+A little calmed and much encouraged by this assurance, the prince
+retired to his own apartment, where every hour a servant brought him a
+bulletin from the sick-room.
+
+As to Isabelle, lying in her luxurious bed and vainly trying to sleep,
+she lived over again in imagination all the wonderful as well as
+terrible experiences of the last two days, and tried to realize her new
+position; that she was now the acknowledged daughter of a mighty
+prince, than whom only royalty was higher; that the dreaded Duke of
+Vallombreuse, so handsome and winning despite his perversity, was no
+longer a bold lover to be feared and detested, but a brother, whose
+passion, if he lived, would doubtless be changed into a pure and calm
+fraternal affection. This château, no longer her prison, had become her
+home, and she was treated by all with the respect and consideration due
+to the daughter of its master. From what had seemed to be her ruin had
+arisen her good fortune, and a destiny radiant, unhoped-for, and beyond
+her wildest flights of fancy. Yet, surrounded as she was by everything
+to make her happy and content, Isabelle was far from feeling so—she was
+astonished at herself for being sad and listless, instead of joyous and
+exultant—but the thought of de Sigognac, so infinitely dear to her, so
+far more precious than any other earthly blessing, weighed upon her
+heart, and the separation from him was a sorrow for which nothing could
+console her. Yet, now that their relative positions were so changed,
+might not a great happiness be in store for her? Did not this very
+change bring her nearer in reality to that true, brave, faithful, and
+devoted lover, though for the moment they were parted? As a poor
+nameless actress she had refused to accept his offered hand, lest such
+an alliance should be disadvantageous to him and stand in the way of
+his advancement, but now—how joyfully would she give herself to him.
+The daughter of a great and powerful prince would be a fitting wife for
+the Baron de Sigognac. But if he were the murderer of her father’s only
+son; ah! then indeed they could never join hands over a grave. And even
+if the young duke should recover, he might cherish a lasting resentment
+for the man who had not only dared to oppose his wishes and designs,
+but had also defeated and wounded him. As to the prince, good and
+generous though he was, still he might not be able to bring himself to
+look with favour upon the man who had almost deprived him of his son.
+Then, too, he might desire some other alliance for his new-found
+daughter—it was not impossible—but in her inmost heart she promised
+herself to be faithful to her first and only love; to take refuge in a
+convent rather than accept the hand of any other; even though that
+other were as handsome as Apollo, and gifted as the prince of a fairy
+tale. Comforted by this secret vow, by which she dedicated her life and
+love to de Sigognac, whether their destiny should give them to each
+other or keep them asunder, Isabelle was just falling into a sweet
+sleep when a slight sound made her open her eyes, and they fell upon
+Chiquita, standing at the foot of the bed and gazing at her with a
+thoughtful, melancholy air.
+
+“What is it, my dear child?” said Isabelle, in her sweetest tones. “You
+did not go away with the others, then? I am glad; and if you would like
+to stay here with me, Chiquita, I will keep you and care for you
+tenderly; as is justly due to you, my dear, for you have done a great
+deal for me.”
+
+“I love you dearly,” answered Chiquita, “but I cannot stay with you
+while Agostino lives; he is my master, I must follow him. But I have
+one favour to beg before I leave you; if you think that I have earned
+the pearl necklace now, will you kiss me? No one ever did but you, and
+it was so sweet.”
+
+“Indeed I will, and with all my heart,” said Isabelle, taking the
+child’s thin face between her hands and kissing her warmly on her brown
+cheeks, which flushed crimson under the soft caress.
+
+“And now, good-bye!” said Chiquita, when after a few moments of silence
+she had resumed her usual _sang-froid_. She turned quickly away, but,
+catching sight of the knife she had given Isabelle, which lay upon the
+dressing-table, she seized it eagerly, saying, “Give me back my knife
+now; you will not need it any more,” and vanished.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+A FAMILY PARTY
+
+
+The next morning found the young Duke of Vallombreuse still living,
+though his life hung by so slender a thread, that the surgeon, who
+anxiously watched his every breath, feared from moment to moment that
+it might break. He was a learned and skilful man, this same Maître
+Laurent, who only needed some favourable opportunity to bring him into
+notice and make him as celebrated as he deserved to be. His remarkable
+talents and skill had only been exercised thus far “in anima vili,”
+among the lower orders of society—whose living or dying was a matter of
+no moment whatever. But now had come at last the chance so long sighed
+for in secret, and he felt that the recovery of his illustrious patient
+was of paramount importance to himself. The worthy doctor’s
+_amour-propre_ and ambition were both actively engaged in this
+desperate duel he was fighting with Death, and he set his teeth and
+determined that the victory must rest with him. In order to keep the
+whole glory of the triumph for himself, he had persuaded the prince—not
+without difficulty—to renounce his intention of sending for the most
+celebrated surgeons in Paris, assuring him that he himself was
+perfectly capable to do all that could be done, and pleading that
+nothing was more dangerous than a change of treatment in such a case as
+this. Maître Laurent conquered, and feeling that there was now no
+danger of his being pushed into the background, threw his whole heart
+and strength into the struggle; yet many times during that anxious
+night he feared that his patient’s life was slipping away from his
+detaining grasp, and almost repented him of having assumed the entire
+responsibility. But with the morning came encouragement, and as the
+watchful surgeon stood at the bedside, intently gazing upon the ghastly
+face on the pillow, he murmured to himself:
+
+“No, he will not die—his countenance has lost that terrible,
+hippocratic look that had settled upon it last evening when I first saw
+him—his pulse is stronger, his breathing free and natural. Besides, he
+_must_ live—his recovery will make my fortune. I must and will tear him
+out of the grim clutches of Death—fine, handsome, young fellow that he
+is, and the heir and hope of his noble family—it will be long ere his
+tomb need be made ready to receive him. He will help me to get away
+from this wretched little village, where I vegetate ignobly, and eat my
+heart out day by day. Now for a bold stroke!—at the risk of producing
+fever—at all risks—I shall venture to give him a dose of that
+wonder-working potion of mine.” Opening his case of medicines, he took
+out several small vials, containing different preparations—some red as
+a ruby, others green as an emerald—this one yellow as virgin gold, that
+bright and colourless as a diamond—and on each one a small label
+bearing a Latin inscription. Maître Laurent, though he was perfectly
+sure of himself, carefully read the inscriptions upon those he had
+selected several times over, held up the tiny vials one after another,
+where a ray of sunshine struck upon them, and looked admiringly through
+the bright transparent liquids they contained—then, measuring with the
+utmost care a few drops from each, compounded a potion after a secret
+recipe of his own; which he made a mystery of, and refused to impart to
+his fellow practitioners. Rousing his sleeping assistant, he ordered
+him to raise the patient’s head a little, while, with a small spatula,
+he pried the firmly set teeth apart sufficiently to allow the liquid he
+had prepared to trickle slowly into the mouth. As it reached the throat
+there was a spasmodic contraction that gave Maître Laurent an instant
+of intense anxiety—but it was only momentary, and the remainder of the
+dose was swallowed easily and with almost instantaneous effect. A
+slight tinge of colour showed itself in the pallid cheeks, the eyelids
+trembled and half unclosed, and the hand that had lain inert and
+motionless upon the counterpane stirred a little. Then the young duke
+heaved a deep sigh, and opening his eyes looked vacantly in about him,
+like one awakening from a dream, or returning from those mysterious
+regions whither the soul takes flight when unconsciousness holds this
+mortal frame enthralled. Only a glance, and the long eyelashes fell
+again upon the pale cheeks—but a wonderful change had passed over the
+countenance.
+
+“I staked everything on that move,” said Maître Laurent to himself,
+with a long breath of relief, “and I have won. It was either kill or
+cure—and it has not killed him. All glory be to Æsculapius, Hygeia, and
+Hippocrates!”
+
+At this moment a hand noiselessly put aside the hangings over the door,
+and the venerable head of the prince appeared—looking ten years older
+for the agony and dread of the terrible night just passed.
+
+“How is he, Maître Laurent?” he breathed, in broken, scarcely audible
+tones.
+
+The surgeon put his finger to his lips, and with the other hand pointed
+to the young duke’s face-still raised a little on the pillows, and no
+longer wearing its death-like look; then, with the light step habitual
+with those who are much about the sick, he went over to the prince,
+still standing on the threshold, and drawing him gently outside and
+away from the door, said in a low voice, “Your highness can see that
+the patient’s condition, so far from growing worse, has decidedly
+improved. Certainly he is not out of danger yet—his state is very
+critical—but unless some new and totally unforeseen complication should
+arise, which I shall use every effort to prevent, I think that we can
+pull him through, and that he will be able to enjoy life again as if he
+had never been hurt.”
+
+The prince’s care-worn face brightened and his fine eyes flashed at
+these hopeful words; he stepped forward to enter the sick-room, but
+Maître Laurent respectfully opposed his doing so.
+
+“Permit me, my lord, to prevent your approaching your son’s bedside
+just now—doctors are often very disagreeable, you know, and have to
+impose trying conditions upon those to whom their patients are dear. I
+beseech you not to go near the Duke of Vallombreuse at present. Your
+beloved presence might, in the excessively weak and exhausted condition
+of my patient, cause dangerous agitation. Any strong emotion would be
+instantly fatal to him, his hold upon life is still so slight. Perfect
+tranquility is his only safety. If all goes well—as I trust and believe
+that it will—in a few days he will have regained his strength in a
+measure, his wound will be healing, and you can probably be with him as
+much as you like, without any fear of doing him harm. I know that this
+is very trying to your highness, but, believe me, it is necessary to
+your son’s well-being.”
+
+The prince, very much relieved, and yielding readily to the doctor’s
+wishes, returned to his own apartment; where he occupied himself with
+some religious reading until noon, when the major-domo came to announce
+that dinner was on the table.
+
+“Go and tell my daughter, the Comtesse Isabelle de Lineuil—such is the
+title by which she is to be addressed henceforth—that I request her to
+join me at dinner,” said the prince to the major-domo, who hastened off
+to obey this order.
+
+Isabelle went quickly down the grand staircase with a light step, and
+smiled to herself as she passed through the noble hall where she had
+been so frightened by the two figures in armour, on the occasion of her
+bold exploring expedition the first night after her arrival at the
+château. Everything looked very different now—the bright sunshine was
+pouring in at the windows, and large fires of juniper, and other
+sweet-smelling woods, had completely done away with the damp, chilly,
+heavy atmosphere that pervaded the long disused rooms when she was in
+them before.
+
+In the splendid dining-room she found a table sumptuously spread, and
+her father already seated at it, in his large, high-backed, richly
+carved chair, behind which stood two lackeys, in superb liveries. As
+she approached him she made a most graceful curtsey, which had nothing
+in the least theatrical about it, and would have met with approbation
+even in courtly circles. A servant was holding the chair destined for
+her, and with some timidity, but no apparent embarrassment, she took
+her seat opposite to the prince. She was served with soup and wine, and
+then with course after course of delicate, tempting viands; but she
+could not eat her heart was too full—her nerves were still quivering,
+from the terror and excitement of the preceding day and night.
+
+She was dazzled and agitated by this sudden change of fortune, anxious
+about her brother, now lying at the point of death, and, above all,
+troubled and grieved at her separation from her lover—so she could only
+make a pretence of dining, and played languidly with the food on her
+plate.
+
+“You are eating nothing, my dear _comtesse_,” said the prince, who had
+been furtively watching her; “I pray you try to do better with this bit
+of partridge I am sending you.”
+
+At this title of _comtesse_, spoken as a matter of course, and in such
+a kind, tender tone, Isabelle looked up at the prince with astonishment
+written in her beautiful, deep blue eyes, which seemed to plead timidly
+for an explanation.
+
+“Yes, Comtesse de Lineuil; it is the title which goes with an estate I
+have settled on you, my dear child, and which has long been destined
+for you. The name of Isabelle alone, charming though it be, is not
+suitable for _my_ daughter.”
+
+Isabelle, yielding to the impulse of the moment—as the servants had
+retired and she was alone with her father—rose, and going to his side,
+knelt down and kissed his hand, in token of gratitude for his delicacy
+and generosity.
+
+“Rise, my child,” said he, very tenderly, and much moved, “and return
+to your place. What I have done is only just. It calls for no thanks. I
+should have done it long ago if it had been in my power. In the
+terrible circumstances that have reunited us, my dear daughter, I can
+see the finger of Providence, and through them I have learned your
+worth. To your virtue alone it is due that a horrible crime was not
+committed, and I love and honour you for it; even though it may cost me
+the loss of my only son. But God will be merciful and preserve his
+life, so that he may repent of having so persecuted and outraged the
+purest innocence. Maître Laurent, in whom I have every confidence,
+gives me some hope this morning; and when I looked at Vallombreuse—from
+the threshold of his room only—I could see that the seal of death was
+no longer upon his face.”
+
+They were interrupted by the servants, bringing in water to wash their
+fingers, in a magnificent golden bowl, and this ceremony having been
+duly gone through with, the prince threw down his napkin and led the
+way into the adjoining _salon_, signing to Isabelle to follow him. He
+seated himself in a large arm-chair in front of the blazing wood fire,
+and bidding Isabelle place herself close beside him, took her hand
+tenderly between both of his, and looked long and searchingly at this
+lovely young daughter, so strangely restored to him. There was much of
+sadness mingled with the joy that shone in his eyes, for he was still
+very anxious about his son, whose life was in such jeopardy; but as he
+gazed upon Isabelle’s sweet face the joy predominated, and he smiled
+very lovingly upon the new _comtesse_, as he began to talk to her of
+long past days.
+
+“Doubtless, my beloved child, in the midst of the strange events that
+have brought us together, in such an odd, romantic, almost supernatural
+manner, the thought has suggested itself to your mind, that during all
+the years that have passed since your infancy I have not sought you
+out, and that chance alone has at last restored the long-lost child to
+her neglectful father. But you are so good and noble that I know you
+would not dwell upon such an idea, and I hope that you do not so
+misjudge me as to think me capable of such culpable neglect, now that
+you are getting a little better acquainted with me. As you must know,
+your mother, Cornelia, was excessively proud and high-spirited. She
+resented every affront, whether intended as such or not, with
+extraordinary violence, and when I was obliged, in spite of my most
+heartfelt wishes, to separate myself from her, and reluctantly submit
+to a marriage that I could not avoid, she obstinately refused to allow
+me to provide for her maintenance in comfort and luxury, as well as for
+you and your education. All that I gave her, and settled on her, she
+sent back to me with the most exaggerated disdain, and inexorably
+refused to receive again. I could not but admire, though I so deplored,
+her lofty spirit, and proud rejection of every benefit which I desired
+to confer upon her, and I left in the hands of a trusty agent, for her,
+the deeds of all the landed property and houses I had destined for her,
+as well as the money and jewels—so that she could at any time reclaim
+them, if she would—hoping that she might see fit to change her mind
+when the first flush of anger was over. But, to my great chagrin, she
+persisted in her refusal of everything, and changing her name, fled
+from Paris into the provinces; where she was said to have joined a
+roving band of comedians. Soon after that I was sent by my sovereign on
+several foreign missions that kept me long away from France, and I lost
+all trace of her and you. In vain were all my efforts to find you both,
+until at last I heard that she was dead. Then I redoubled my diligence
+in the search for my little motherless daughter, whom I had so tenderly
+loved; but all in vain. No trace of her could I find. I heard, indeed,
+of many children among these strolling companies, and carefully
+investigated each case that came to my knowledge; but it always ended
+in disappointment. Several women, indeed, tried to palm off their
+little girls upon me as my child, and I had to be on my guard against
+fraud; but I never failed to sift the matter thoroughly, even though I
+knew that deceit was intended, lest I should unawares reject the dear
+little one I was so anxiously seeking. At last I was almost forced to
+conclude that you too had perished; yet a secret intuition always told
+me that you were still in the land of the living. I used to sit for
+hours and think of how sweet and lovely you were in infancy; how your
+little rosy fingers used to play with and pull my long mustache—which
+was black then, my dear—when I leaned over to kiss you in your
+cradle—recalling all your pretty, engaging little baby tricks,
+remembering how fond and proud I was of you, and grieving over the loss
+that I seemed to feel more and more acutely as the years went on. The
+birth of my son only made me long still more intensely for you, instead
+of consoling me for your loss, or banishing you from my memory, and
+when I saw him decked with rich laces and ribbons, like a royal babe,
+and playing with his jewelled rattle, I would think with an aching
+heart that perhaps at that very moment my dear little daughter was
+suffering from cold and hunger, or the unkind treatment of those who
+had her in charge. Then I regretted deeply that I had not taken you
+away from your mother in the very beginning, and had you brought up as
+my daughter should be—but when you were born I did not dream of our
+parting. As years rolled on new anxieties tortured me. I knew that you
+would be beautiful, and how much you would have to suffer from the
+dissolute men who hover about all young and pretty actresses—my blood
+would boil as I thought of the insults and affronts to which you might
+be subjected, and from which I was powerless to shield you—no words can
+tell what I suffered. Affecting a taste for the theatre that I did not
+possess, I never let an opportunity pass to see every company of
+players that I could hear of—hoping to find you at last among them. But
+although I saw numberless young actresses, about your age, not one of
+them could have been you, my dear child—of that I was sure. So at last
+I abandoned the hope of finding my long-lost daughter, though it was a
+bitter trial to feel that I must do so. The princess, my wife, had died
+three years after our marriage, leaving me only one
+child—Vallombreuse—whose ungovernable disposition has always given me
+much trouble and anxiety. A few days ago, at Saint Germain, I heard
+some of the courtiers speak in terms of high praise of Hérode’s troupe,
+and what they said made me determine to go and see one of their
+representations without delay, while my heart beat high with a new
+hope—for they especially lauded a young actress, called Isabelle; whose
+graceful, modest, high-bred air they declared to be irresistible, and
+her acting everything that could be desired—adding that she was as
+virtuous as she was beautiful, and that the boldest libertines
+respected her immaculate purity. Deeply agitated by a secret
+presentiment, I hastened back to Paris, and went to the theatre that
+very night. There I saw you, my darling, and though it would seem to be
+impossible for even a father’s eye to recognise, in the beautiful young
+woman of twenty, the babe that he had kissed in its cradle, and had
+never beheld since, still I knew you instantly—the very moment you came
+in sight—and I perceived, with a heart swelling with happiness and
+thankfulness, that you were all that I could wish. Moreover, I
+recognised the face of an old actor, who had been I knew in the troupe
+that Cornelia joined when she fled from Paris, and I resolved to
+address myself first to him; so as not to startle you by too abrupt a
+disclosure of my claims upon you. But when I sent the next morning to
+the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, I learned that Hérode’s troupe had just
+gone to give a representation at a château in the environs of Paris,
+and would be absent three days. I should have endeavoured to wait
+patiently for their return, had not a brave fellow, who used to be in
+my service, and has my interest at heart, come to inform me that the
+Duke of Vallombreuse, being madly in love with a young actress named
+Isabelle, who resisted his suit with the utmost firmness and
+determination, had arranged to gain forcible possession of her in the
+course of the day’s journey—the expedition into the country being
+gotten up for that express purpose—that he had a band of hired ruffians
+engaged to carry out his nefarious purpose and bring his unhappy victim
+to this château—and that he had come to warn me, fearing lest serious
+consequences should ensue to my son, as the young actress would be
+accompanied by brave and faithful friends, who were armed, and would
+defend her to the death. This terrible news threw me into a frightful
+state of anxiety and excitement. Feeling sure, as I did, that you were
+my own daughter, I shuddered at the thought of the horrible crime that
+I might not be in time to prevent, and without one moment’s delay set
+out for this place—suffering such agony by the way as I do not like
+even to think of. You were already delivered from danger when I
+arrived, as you know, and without having suffered anything beyond the
+alarm and dread—which must have been terrible indeed, my poor child!
+And then, the amethyst ring on your finger confirmed, past any
+possibility of doubt, what my heart had told me, when first my eyes
+beheld you in the theatre.”
+
+“I pray you to believe, dear lord and father,” answered Isabelle, “that
+I have never accused you of anything, nor considered myself neglected.
+Accustomed from my infancy to the roving life of the troupe I was with,
+I neither knew nor dreamed of any other. The little knowledge that I
+had of the world made me realize that I should be wrong in wishing to
+force myself upon an illustrious family, obliged doubtless by powerful
+reasons, of which I knew nothing, to leave me in obscurity. The
+confused remembrance I had of my origin sometimes inspired me—when I
+was very young—with a certain pride, and I would say to myself, when I
+noticed the disdainful air with which great ladies looked down upon us
+poor actresses, I also am of noble birth. But I outgrew those fancies,
+and only preserved an invincible self-respect, which I have always
+cherished. Nothing in the world would have induced me to dishonour the
+illustrious blood that flows in my veins. The disgraceful license of
+the _coulisses_, and the loathsome gallantries lavished upon all
+actresses, even those who are not comely, disgusted me from the first,
+and I have lived in the theatre almost as if in a convent. The good old
+pedant has been like a watchful father to me, and as for Hérode, he
+would have severely chastised any one who dared to touch me with the
+tip of his finger, or even to pronounce a vulgar word in my presence.
+Although they are only obscure actors, they are very honourable, worthy
+men, and I trust you will be good enough to help them if they ever find
+themselves in need of assistance. I owe it partly to them that I can
+lift my forehead for your kiss without a blush of shame, and proudly
+declare myself worthy, so far as purity is concerned, to be your
+daughter. My only regret is to have been the innocent cause of the
+misfortune that has overtaken the duke, your son. I could have wished
+to enter your family, my dear father, under more favourable auspices.”
+
+“You have nothing to reproach yourself with, my sweet child, for you
+could not divine these mysteries, which have been suddenly disclosed by
+a combination of circumstances that would be considered romantic and
+improbable, even in a novel; and my joy at finding you as worthy in
+every way to be my beloved and honoured daughter, as if you had not
+lived amid all the dangers of such a career, makes up for the pain and
+anxiety caused by the illness and danger of my son. Whether he lives or
+dies, I shall never for one moment blame you for anything in connection
+with his misfortune. In any event, it was your virtue and courage that
+saved him from being guilty of a crime that I shudder to contemplate.
+And now, tell me, who was the handsome young man among your liberators
+who seemed to direct the attack, and who wounded Vallombreuse? An actor
+doubtless, though it appeared to me that he had a very noble bearing,
+and magnificent courage.”
+
+“Yes, my dear father,” Isabelle replied, with a most lovely and
+becoming blush, “he is an actor, a member of our troupe; but if I may
+venture to betray his secret, which is already known to the Duke of
+Vallombreuse, I will tell you that the so-called Captain Fracasse
+conceals under his mask a noble countenance, as indeed you already
+know, and under his theatrical pseudonym, the name of an illustrious
+family.”
+
+“True!” rejoined the prince, “I have heard something about that
+already. It would certainly have been astonishing if an ordinary,
+low-born actor had ventured upon so bold and rash a course as running
+counter to a Duke of Vallombreuse, and actually entering into a combat
+with him; it needs noble blood for such daring acts. Only a gentleman
+can conquer a gentleman, just as a diamond can only be cut by a
+diamond.”
+
+The lofty pride of the aged prince found much consolation in the
+knowledge that his son had not been attacked and wounded by an
+adversary of low origin; there was nothing compromising in a duel
+between equals, and he drew a deep breath of relief at thought of it.
+
+“And pray, what is the real name of this valiant champion?” smilingly
+asked the prince, with a roguish twinkle in his dark eyes—“this
+dauntless knight, and brave defender of innocence and purity!”
+
+“He is the Baron de Sigognac,” Isabelle replied blushingly, with a
+slight trembling perceptible in her sweet, low voice. “I reveal his
+name fearlessly to you, my dear father, for you are both too just and
+too generous to visit upon his head the disastrous consequences of a
+victory that he deplores.”
+
+“De Sigognac?” said the prince. “I thought that ancient and illustrious
+family was extinct. Is he not from Gascony?”
+
+“Yes; his home is in the neighbourhood of Dax.”
+
+“Exactly—and the de Sigognacs have an appropriate coat of arms—three
+golden storks on an azure field. Yes, it is as I said, an ancient and
+illustrious family—one of the oldest and most honourable in France.
+Paramede de Sigognac figured gloriously in the first crusade. A
+Raimbaud de Sigognac, the father of this young man without doubt, was
+the devoted friend and companion of Henri IV, in his youth, but was not
+often seen at court in later years. It was said that he was embarrassed
+financially, I remember.”
+
+“So much so, that when our troupe sought refuge of a stormy night under
+his roof, we found his son living in a half ruined château, haunted by
+bats and owls, where his youth was passing in sadness and misery. We
+persuaded him to come away with us, fearing that he would die there of
+starvation and melancholy—but I never saw misfortune so bravely borne.”
+
+“Poverty is no disgrace,” said the prince, “and any noble house that
+has preserved its honour unstained may rise again from its ruins to its
+ancient height of glory and renown. But why did not the young baron
+apply to some of his father’s old friends in his distress? or lay his
+case before the king, who is the natural refuge of all loyal gentlemen
+under such circumstances?”
+
+“Misfortunes such as his are apt to breed timidity, even with the
+bravest,” Isabelle replied, “and pride deters many a man from betraying
+his misery to the world. When the Baron de Sigognac consented to
+accompany us to Paris, he hoped to find some opportunity there to
+retrieve his fallen fortunes; but it has not presented itself. In order
+not to be an expense to the troupe, he generously and nobly insisted
+upon taking the place of one of the actors, who died on the way, and
+who was a great loss to us. As he could appear upon the stage always
+masked, he surely did not compromise his dignity by it.”
+
+“Under this theatrical disguise, I think that, without being a
+sorcerer, I can detect a little bit of romance, eh?” said the prince,
+with a mischievous smile. “But I will not inquire too closely; I know
+how good and true you are well enough not to take alarm at any
+respectful tribute paid to your charms. I have not been with you long
+enough yet as a father, my sweet child, to venture upon sermonizing.”
+
+As he paused, Isabelle raised her lovely eyes, in which shone the
+purest innocence and the most perfect loyalty, to his, and met his
+questioning gaze unflinchingly. The rosy flush which the first mention
+of de Sigognac’s name had called up was gone, and her countenance
+showed no faintest sign of embarrassment or shame. In her pure heart
+the most searching looks of a father, of God himself, could have found
+nothing to condemn. Just at this point the doctor’s assistant was
+announced, who brought a most favourable report from the sick-room. He
+was charged to tell the prince that his son’s condition was eminently
+satisfactory—a marked change for the better having taken place; and
+that Maître Laurent considered the danger past—believing that his
+recovery was now only a question of time.
+
+A few days later, Vallombreuse, propped up on his pillows, received a
+visit from his faithful and devoted friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc,
+whom he had not been permitted to see earlier. The prince was sitting
+by the bedside, affectionately watching every flitting expression on
+his son’s face, which was pathetically thin and pale, but handsomer
+than ever; because the old haughty, fierce look had vanished, and a
+soft light, that had never been in them before, shone in his beautiful
+eyes, whereat his father’s heart rejoiced exceedingly. Isabelle stood
+at the other side of the bed, and the young duke had clasped his thin,
+startlingly white fingers round her hand. As he was forbidden to speak,
+save in monosyllables—because of his injured lung—he took this means of
+testifying his sympathy with her, who had been the involuntary cause of
+his being wounded and in danger of losing his life, and thus made her
+understand that he cherished no resentments. The affectionate brother
+had replaced the fiery lover, and his illness, in calming his ardent
+passion, had contributed not a little to make the transition a less
+difficult one than it could possibly have been otherwise. Isabelle was
+now for him really and only the Comtesse de Lineuil, his dear sister.
+He nodded in a friendly way to Vidalinc, and disengaged his hand for a
+moment from Isabelle’s to give it to him—it was all that the doctor
+would allow—but his eyes were eloquent enough to make up for his
+enforced silence.
+
+In the course of a few weeks, Vallombreuse, who had gained strength
+rapidly, was able to leave his bed and recline upon a lounge near the
+open window; so as to enjoy the mild, delightful air of spring, that
+brought colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes. Isabelle was often
+with him, and read aloud for hours together to entertain him; as Maître
+Laurent’s orders were strict that he should not talk, even yet, any
+more than was actually necessary. One day, when Isabelle had finished a
+chapter in the volume from which she was reading to him, and was about
+to begin another, he interrupted her, and said, “My dear sister, that
+book is certainly very amusing, and the author a man of remarkable wit
+and talent; but I must confess that I prefer your charming conversation
+to your delightful reading. Do you know, I would not have believed it
+possible to gain so much, in losing all hope of what I desired more
+ardently than I had ever done anything in my whole life before. The
+brother is very much more kindly treated than the suitor—are you aware
+of that? You are as sweet and amiable to the one as you were severe and
+unapproachable to the other. I find in this calm, peaceful affection,
+charms that I had never dreamed of, and you reveal to me a new side of
+the feminine character, hitherto utterly unknown to me. Carried away by
+fiery passions, and irritated to madness by any opposition, I was like
+the wild huntsman of the ancient legend, who stopped for no obstacle,
+but rode recklessly over everything in his path. I looked upon whatever
+beautiful woman I was in pursuit of as my legitimate prey. I scouted
+the very idea of failure, and deemed myself irresistible. At the
+mention of virtue, I only shrugged my shoulders, and I think I may say,
+without too much conceit, to the only woman I ever pursued who did not
+yield to me, that I had reason not to put much faith in it. My mother
+died when I was a mere baby; you, my sweet sister, were not near me,
+and I have never known, until now, all the purity, tenderness, and
+sublime courage of which your sex is capable. I chanced to see you. An
+irresistible attraction, in which, perhaps, the unknown tie of blood
+had its influence, drew me to you, and for the first time in my life a
+feeling of respect and esteem mingled with my passion. Your character
+delighted me, even when you drove me to despair. I could not but
+secretly approve and admire the modest and courteous firmness with
+which you rejected my homage. The more decidedly you repulsed me, the
+more I felt that you were worthy of my adoration. Anger and admiration
+succeeded each other in my heart, and even in my most violent paroxysms
+of rage I always respected you. I descried the angel in the woman, and
+bowed to the ascendency of a celestial purity. Now I am happy and
+blessed indeed; for I have in you precisely what I needed, without
+knowing it—this pure affection, free from all earthly
+taint—unalterable—eternal. I possess at last the love of a soul.”
+
+“Yes, my dear brother, it is yours,” Isabelle replied; “and it is a
+great source of happiness to me that I am able to assure you of it. You
+have in me a devoted sister and friend, who will love you doubly to
+make up for the years we have lost—above all, now that you have
+promised me to correct the faults that have so grieved and alarmed our
+dear father, and to exhibit only the good qualities of which _you_ have
+plenty.”
+
+“Oh! you little preacher,” cried Vallombreuse, with a bright, admiring
+smile; “how you take advantage of my weakness. However, it is perfectly
+true that I have been a dreadful monster, but I really do mean to do
+better in future—if not for love of virtue itself, at least to avoid
+seeing my charming sister put on a severe, disapproving air, at some
+atrocious escapade of mine. Still, I fear that I shall always be Folly,
+as you will be Reason.”
+
+“If you will persist in paying me such high-flown compliments,” said
+Isabelle, with a little shrug of her pretty shoulders, “I shall
+certainly resume the reading, and you will have to listen to a long
+story that the corsair is just about to relate to the beautiful
+princess, his captive, in the cabin of his galley.”
+
+“Oh, no! surely I do not deserve such a severe punishment as that. Even
+at the risk of appearing garrulous, I do so want to talk a little. That
+confounded doctor has kept me mute long enough in all conscience, and I
+am tired to death of having the seal of silence upon my lips, like a
+statue of Hippocrates.”
+
+“But I am afraid you may do yourself harm; remember that your wound is
+scarcely healed yet, and the injured lung is still very irritable.
+Maître Laurent laid such stress upon my reading to you, so that you
+should keep quiet, and give your chest a good chance to get strong and
+well again.”
+
+“Maître Laurent doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and only wants to
+prolong his own importance to me. My lungs work as well as ever they
+did. I feel perfectly myself again, and I’ve a great mind to order my
+horse and go for a canter in the forest.”
+
+“You had better talk than do such a wildly imprudent thing as that; it
+is certainly less dangerous.”
+
+“I shall very soon be about again, my sweet little sister, and then I
+shall have the pleasure of introducing you into the society suitable to
+your rank—where your incomparable grace and beauty will create a
+sensation, and bring crowds of adorers to your feet. From among them
+you will be able to select a husband, eh?” “I can have no desire to do
+anything of that kind, Vallombreuse, and pray do not think this the
+foolish declaration of a girl who would be very sorry to be taken at
+her word. I am entirely in earnest, I do assure you. I have bestowed my
+hand so often in the last act of the pieces I have played that I am in
+no hurry to do it in reality. I do not wish for anything better than to
+remain quietly here with the prince and yourself.”
+
+“But, my dear girl, a father and brother will not always content you—do
+not think it! Such affection cannot satisfy the demands of the heart
+forever.”
+
+“It will be enough for me, however, and if some day they fail me, I can
+take refuge in a convent.”
+
+“Heaven forbid! that would be carrying austerity too far indeed. I pray
+you never to mention it again, if you have any regard for my peace of
+mind. And now tell me, my sweet little sister, what do you think of my
+dear friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc? does not he seem to be
+possessed of every qualification necessary to make a good husband?”
+
+“Doubtless, and the woman that he marries will have a right to consider
+herself fortunate but however charming and desirable your friend may
+be, my dear Vallombreuse, _I_ shall never be that woman.”
+
+“Well, let him pass, then—but tell me what you think of the Marquis de
+l’Estang, who came to see me the other day, and gazed spell-bound at my
+lovely sister all the time he was here. He was so overwhelmed by your
+surpassing grace, so dazzled by your exquisite beauty, that he was
+struck dumb, and when he tried to pay you pretty compliments, did
+nothing but stammer and blush. Aside from this timidity, which made him
+appear to great disadvantage, and which your ladyship should readily
+excuse, since you yourself were the cause of it, the marquis is an
+accomplished and estimable gentleman. He is handsome, young, of high
+birth and great wealth. He would do capitally for my fair sister, and
+is sure to address himself to the prince—if indeed he has not already
+done so—as an aspirant to the honour of an alliance with her.”
+
+“As I have the honour of belonging to this illustrious family,” said
+Isabelle a little impatiently, for she was exceedingly annoyed by this
+banter, “too much humility would not become me, therefore I will not
+say that I consider myself unworthy of such an alliance; but if the
+Marquis de l’Estang should ask my hand of my father, I would refuse
+him. I have told you, my dear brother, more than once, that I do not
+wish to marry—and you know it too—so pray don’t tease me any more about
+it.”
+
+“Oh! what a fierce, determined little woman is this fair sister of
+mine. Diana herself was not more inaccessible, in the forests and
+valleys of Haemus—yet, if the naughty mythological stories may be
+believed, she did at last smile upon a certain Endymion. You are vexed,
+because I casually propose some suitable candidates for the honour of
+your hand; but you need not be, for, if _they_ do not please you, we
+will hunt up one who will.”
+
+“I am not vexed, my dear brother, but you are certainly talking far too
+much for an invalid, and I shall tell Maître Laurent to reprimand you,
+or not permit you to have the promised bit of fowl for your supper.”
+
+“Oh! if that’s the case I will desist at once,” said Vallombreuse, with
+a droll air of submission, “for I’m as hungry as an ogre—but rest
+assured of one thing, my charming sister: No one shall select your
+husband but myself.”
+
+To put an end to this teasing, Isabelle began to read the corsair’s
+long story, without paying any attention to the indignant protests that
+were made, and Vallombreuse, to revenge himself, finally closed his
+eyes and pretended to be asleep; which feigned slumber soon became
+real, and Isabelle, perceiving that it was so, put aside her book and
+quietly stole away.
+
+This conversation, in which, under all his mischievous banter, the duke
+seemed to have a definite and serious purpose in view, worried Isabelle
+very much, in spite of her efforts to banish it from her mind. Could it
+be that Vallombreuse was nursing a secret resentment against de
+Sigognac? He had never once spoken his name, or referred to him in any
+way, since he was wounded by him; and was he trying to place an
+insurmountable barrier between his sister and the baron, by bringing
+about her marriage with another? or was he simply trying to find out
+whether the actress transformed to a countess, had changed in
+sentiments as well as in rank? Isabelle could not answer these
+questions satisfactorily to herself. As she was the duke’s sister, of
+course the rivalry between him and de Sigognac could no longer exist;
+but, on the other hand, it was difficult to imagine that such a
+haughty, vindictive character as the young duke’s could have forgotten,
+or forgiven, the ignominy of his first defeat at the baron’s hands, and
+still less of the second more disastrous encounter. Although their
+relative positions were changed, Vallombreuse, in his heart, would
+doubtless always hate de Sigognac—even if he had magnanimity enough to
+forgive him, it could scarcely be expected that he should also love
+him, and be willing to welcome him as a member of his family. No, all
+hope of such a reconciliation must be abandoned. Besides, she feared
+that the prince, her father, would never be able to regard with favour
+the man who had imperilled the life of his only son. These sad thoughts
+threw poor Isabelle into a profound melancholy, which she in vain
+endeavoured to shake off. As long as she considered that her position
+as an actress would be an obstacle to de Sigognac, she had resolutely
+repelled the idea of a marriage with him, but now that an unhoped-for,
+undreamed-of stroke of destiny had heaped upon her all the good things
+that heart could desire, she would have loved to reward, with the gift
+of her hand and fortune, the faithful lover who had addressed her when
+she was poor and lowly—it seemed an actual meanness, to her generous
+spirit, not to share her prosperity with the devoted companion of her
+misery. But all that she could do was to be faithful to him—for she
+dared not say a word in his favour, either to the prince or to
+Vallombreuse.
+
+Very soon the young duke was well enough to join his father and sister
+at meals, and he manifested such respectful and affectionate deference
+to the prince, and such an ingenuous and delicate tenderness towards
+Isabelle, that it was evident he had, in spite of his apparent
+frivolity, a mind and character very superior to what one would have
+expected to find in such a licentious, ungovernable youth as he had
+been, and which gave promise of an honourable and useful manhood.
+Isabelle took her part modestly—but with a very sweet dignity, that sat
+well upon her—in the conversation at the table, and in the _salon_, and
+her remarks were so to the point, so witty, and so apropos, that the
+prince was astonished as well as charmed, and grew daily more proud of
+and devoted to his new treasure; finding a happiness and satisfaction
+he had longed for all his life in the affection and devotion of his
+children.
+
+At last Vallombreuse was pronounced well enough to mount his horse, and
+go for a ride in the forest—which he had long been sighing for—and
+Isabelle gladly consented to bear him company. They looked a
+wonderfully handsome pair, as they rode leisurely through the leafy
+arcades. But there was one very marked difference between them.
+
+The young man’s countenance was radiant with happiness and smiles, but
+the girl’s face was clouded over with an abiding melancholy.
+Occasionally her brother’s lively sallies would bring a faint smile to
+her sweet lips, but they fell back immediately into the mournful droop
+that had become habitual with them. Vallombreuse apparently did not
+perceive it—though in reality he was well aware of it, and of its
+cause—and was full of fun and frolic.
+
+“Oh! what a delicious thing it is to live,” he cried, “yet how seldom
+we think of the exquisite enjoyment there is in the simple act of
+breathing,” and he drew a long, deep breath, as if he never could get
+enough of the soft, balmy air. “The trees surely were never so green
+before, the sky so blue, or the flowers so fragrant. I feel as if I had
+been born into the world only yesterday, and was looking upon nature
+for the first time to-day. I never appreciated it before. When I
+remember that I might even now be lying, stiff and stark, under a fine
+marble monument, and that instead of that I am riding through an
+elysium, beside my darling sister, who has really learned to love me, I
+am too divinely happy. I do not even feel my wound any more. I don’t
+believe that I ever was wounded. And now for a gallop, for I’m sure
+that our good father is wearying for us at home.”
+
+In spite of Isabelle’s remonstrances he put spurs to his horse, and she
+could not restrain hers when its companion bounded forward, so off they
+went at a swift pace, and never drew rein until they reached the
+château. As he lifted his sister down from her saddle, Vallombreuse
+said, “Now, after to-day’s achievement, I can surely be treated like a
+big boy, and get permission to go out by myself.”
+
+“What! you want to go away and leave us already? and scarcely well yet,
+you bad boy!”
+
+“Even so, my sweet sister; I want to make a little journey that will
+take several days,” said Vallombreuse negligently.
+
+Accordingly, the very next morning he departed, after having taken an
+affectionate leave of the prince, his father; who did not oppose his
+going, as Isabelle had confidently expected, but seemed, on the
+contrary, to approve of it heartily. After receiving many charges to be
+careful and prudent, from his sister, which he dutifully promised to
+remember and obey, the young duke bade her good-bye also, and said, in
+a mysterious, yet most significant way,
+
+“Au revoir, my sweet little sister, you will be pleased with what I am
+about to do.” And Isabelle sought in vain for the key to the enigma.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+NETTLES AND COBWEBS
+
+
+The worthy tyrant’s advice was sensible and good, and de Sigognac
+resolved to follow it without delay. Since Isabelle’s departure, no
+attraction existed for him in the troupe, and he was very glad of a
+valid pretext for quitting it; though he could not leave his humble
+friends without some regrets. It was necessary that he should disappear
+for a while—plunge into obscurity, until the excitement consequent upon
+the violent death of the young Duke of Vallombreuse should be forgotten
+in some new tragedy in real life.
+
+So, after bidding farewell to the worthy comedians, who had shown him
+so much kindness, he departed from the gay capital—mounted on a stout
+pony, and with a tolerably well-filled purse—his share of the receipts
+of the troupe, which he had fairly earned. By easy stages he travelled
+slowly towards his own ruined château. After the storm the bird flies
+home to its nest, no matter how ragged and torn it may be. It was the
+only refuge open to him, and in the midst of his despondency he felt a
+sort of sad pleasure at the thought of returning to his ancestral
+home—desolate and forlorn as it was—where it would have been better,
+perhaps, for him to have quietly remained—for his fortunes were not
+improved, and this last crowning disaster had been ruinous to all his
+hopes and prospects of happiness.
+
+“Ah, well!” said he to himself, sorrowfully, as he jogged slowly on,
+“it was predestined that I should die of hunger and ennui within those
+crumbling walls, and under my poor, dilapidated, old roof, that lets
+the rain run through it like a huge sieve. No one can escape his
+destiny, and I shall accomplish mine. I am doomed to be the last de
+Sigognac.”
+
+Then came visions of what might have been, that made the sad present
+seem even darker by contrast; and his burden was well-nigh too heavy
+for him to bear, when he remembered all Isabelle’s goodness and
+loveliness—now lost to him forever. No wonder that his eyes were often
+wet with tears, and that there was no brightness even in the sunshine
+for him.
+
+It is needless to describe in detail a journey that lasted twenty days,
+and was not marked by any remarkable incidents or adventures. It is
+enough to say that one fine evening de Sigognac saw from afar the lofty
+towers of his ancient château, illuminated by the setting sun, and
+shining out in bold relief against the soft purple of the evening sky;
+whilst one of the few remaining casements had caught the fiery sunset
+glow, and looked like a great carbuncle set in the fine facade of the
+stately old castle. This sight aroused a strange tenderness and
+agitation in the young baron’s breast. It was true that he had suffered
+long and acutely in that dreary mansion, yet after all it was very dear
+to him—far more than he knew before he had quitted it—and he was deeply
+moved at seeing it again. In a few moments more the glorious god of day
+had sunk behind the western horizon, and the château seemed to retreat,
+until it became scarcely perceptible as the light faded, forming only a
+vague, gray blot in the distance as the gloaming succeeded to the glow.
+But de Sigognac knew every step of the way perfectly, and soon turned
+from the highway into the neglected, grass-grown road that led to the
+château. In the profound stillness, which seemed wonderfully peaceful
+and pleasant to him, he fancied that he could distinguish the distant
+barking of a dog, and that it sounded like Miraut. He stopped to
+listen; yes, there could be no doubt about it, and it was approaching.
+The baron gave a clear, melodious whistle—a signal well known of old to
+Miraut-and in a few moments the faithful dog, running as fast as his
+poor old legs could carry him, burst through a break in the
+hedge—panting, barking, almost sobbing for joy. He strove to jump up on
+the horse’s neck to get at his beloved master; he was beside himself
+with delight, and manifested it in the most frantic manner, whilst de
+Sigognac bent down to pat his head and try to quiet his wild
+transports. After bearing his master company a little way, Miraut set
+off again at full speed, to announce the good news to the others at the
+château—that is to say, to Pierre, Bayard, and Beelzebub—and bounding
+into the kitchen where the old servant was sitting, lost in sad
+thoughts, he barked in such a significant way that Pierre knew at once
+that something unusual had happened.
+
+“Can it be possible that the young master is coming? said he aloud,
+rising, in compliance with Miraut’s wishes, who was pulling at the
+skirts of his coat, and imploring him with his eyes to bestir himself
+and follow him. As it was quite dark by this time, Pierre lighted a
+pine torch, which he carried with him, and as he turned into the road
+its ruddy light suddenly flashed upon de Sigognac and his horse.
+
+“Is it really you, my lord?” cried Pierre, joyfully, as he caught sight
+of his young master; “Miraut had tried to tell me of your arrival in
+his own way before I left the house, but as I had not heard anything
+about your even thinking of coming, I feared that he might be mistaken.
+Welcome home to your own domain, my beloved master! We are overjoyed to
+see you.”
+
+“Yes, my good Pierre, it is really I, and not my wraith. Miraut was not
+mistaken. Here I am again, if not richer than when I went away, at
+least all safe and sound. Come now, lead the way with your torch, and
+we will go into the château.”
+
+Pierre, not without considerable difficulty, opened the great door, and
+the Baron de Sigognac rode slowly through the ancient portico,
+fantastically illuminated by the flaring torchlight, in which the three
+sculptured storks overhead seemed to be flapping their wings, as if in
+joyful salutation to the last representative of the family they had
+symbolized for so many centuries. Then a loud, impatient whinny, like
+the blast of a trumpet, was heard ringing out on the still night air,
+as Bayard, in his stable, caught the welcome sound of his master’s
+voice.
+
+“Yes, yes, I hear you, my poor old Bayard,” cried de Sigognac, as he
+dismounted in the court, and threw the bridle to Pierre; “I am coming
+to say how d’you do,” and as he turned he stumbled over Beelzebub, who
+was trying to rub himself against his master’s legs, purring and mewing
+alternately to attract his attention. The baron stooped down, took the
+old black cat up in his arms, and tenderly caressed him as he advanced
+towards the stables; then put him down gently as he reached Bayard’s
+stall, and another touching scene of affectionate greeting was enacted.
+The poor old pony laid his head lovingly on his master’s shoulder, and
+actually tried to kick up his hind legs in a frisky way in honour of
+the great event; also, he received the horse that de Sigognac had
+ridden all the way from Paris, and which was put in the stall beside
+his own, very politely, and seemed pleased to have a companion in his
+solitary grandeur.
+
+“And now that I have responded to the endearments of my dumb friends,”
+said the baron to Pierre, “we will go into the kitchen, and examine
+into the condition of your larder. I had but a poor breakfast this
+morning, and no dinner at all, being anxious to push on and reach my
+journey’s end before nightfall. I am as hungry as a bear, and will be
+glad of anything, no matter what.”
+
+“I have not much to put before you, my lord, and I fear that you will
+find it but sorry fare after the delicacies you must have been
+accustomed to in Paris; but though it will not be tempting, nor over
+savoury, it will at least satisfy your hunger.”
+
+“That is all that can be required of any food,” answered de Sigognac,
+“and I am not as ungrateful as you seem to think, my good Pierre, to
+the frugal fare of my youth, which has certainly made me healthy,
+vigorous, and strong. Bring out what you have, and serve it as proudly
+as if it were of the choicest and daintiest; I will promise to do
+honour to it, for I am desperately hungry.”
+
+The old servant bustled about joyously, and quickly had the table ready
+for his master; then stood behind his chair, while he ate and drank
+with a traveller’s appetite, as proudly erect as if he had been a grand
+major-domo waiting on a prince. According to the old custom, Miraut and
+Beelzebub, stationed on the right and on the left, watched their
+master’s every motion, and received a share of everything that was on
+the table. The great kitchen was lighted, not very brilliantly, by a
+torch, stuck in an iron bracket just inside the broad, open chimney, so
+that the smoke should escape through it and not fill the room, and the
+scene was so exactly a counterpart of the one described at the
+beginning of this narrative, that the baron, struck with the perfect
+resemblance, fancied that he must have been dreaming, and had never
+quitted his ancient château at all. Everything was precisely as he had
+left it, excepting that the nettles and weeds had grown a little
+taller, and the cobweb draperies a little more voluminous; all else was
+unchanged. Unconsciously lapsing into the old ways, de Sigognac fell
+into a deep reverie after he had finished his simple repast, which
+Pierre, as of old, respected, and even Miraut and Beelzebub did not
+venture to intrude upon. All that had occurred since he last sat at his
+own table passed in review before him, but seemed like adventures that
+he had read of, not actually participated in himself. It had all passed
+into the background. Captain Fracasse, already nearly obliterated,
+appeared like a pale spectre in the far distance; his combats with the
+Duke of Vallombreuse seemed equally unreal. In fine, everything that he
+had seen, done, and suffered, had sunk into shadowy vagueness; but his
+love for Isabelle had undergone no change; it had neither diminished
+nor grown cold; it was as passionate and all-absorbing as ever; it was
+his very life; yet rather like an aspiration of the soul than a real
+passion, since with it all he knew that the angelic being who was its
+object, and whom he worshipped from afar, could never, never be his.
+The wheels of his chariot, which for a brief space had turned aside
+into a new track, were back in the old rut again, and realizing that
+there could be no further escape from it possible for him, he gave way
+sullenly to a despairing, stolid sort of resignation, that he had no
+heart to struggle against, but yielded to it passively; blaming himself
+the while for having presumed to indulge in a season of bright hopes
+and delicious dreams. Why the devil should such an unlucky fellow as he
+had always been venture to aspire to happiness? It was all foolishness,
+and sure to end in bitter disappointment; but he had had his lesson
+now, and would be wiser for the future.
+
+He sat perfectly motionless for a long time, plunged in a sad
+reverie—sunk in a species of torpor; but he roused himself at last, and
+perceiving that his faithful old follower’s eyes were fixed upon him,
+full of timid questioning that he did not venture to put into words,
+briefly related to him the principal incidents of his journey up to the
+capital, and his short stay there. When he graphically described his
+two duels with the Duke of Vallombreuse—the old man, filled with pride
+and delight at the proficiency of his beloved pupil, could not restrain
+his enthusiasm, and snatching up a stick gave vigorous illustrations of
+all the most salient points of the encounters as the baron delineated
+them, ending up with a wild flourish and a shout of triumph.
+
+“Alas! my good Pierre,” said he, with a sigh, when quiet was restored,
+“you taught me how to use my sword only too well. My unfortunate
+victory has been my ruin, and has sent me back, hopeless and bereaved,
+to this poor old crumbling château of mine, where I am doomed to drag
+out the weary remainder of my days in sorrow and misery. I am
+peculiarly unhappy, in that my very triumphs have only made matters
+worse for me—it would have been better far for me, and for all, if I
+had been wounded, or even killed, in this last disastrous encounter,
+instead of my rival and enemy, the young Duke of Vallombreuse.”
+
+“The de Sigognacs are never beaten,” said the old retainer loftily. “No
+matter what may come of it, I am glad, my dear young master, that you
+killed that insolent duke. The whole thing was conducted in strict
+accordance with the code of honour—what more could be desired? How
+could any valiant gentleman object to die gloriously, sword in hand, of
+a good, honest wound, fairly given? He should consider himself most
+fortunate.”
+
+“Ah well! perhaps you are right—I will not dispute you,” said de
+Sigognac, smiling secretly at the old man’s philosophy. “But I am very
+tired, and would like to go to my own room now—will you light the lamp,
+my good Pierre, and lead the way?”
+
+Pierre obeyed, and the baron, preceded by his old servant and followed
+by his old dog and cat, slowly ascended the ancient staircase. The
+quaint frescoes were gradually fading, growing ever paler and more
+indistinct, and there were new stains on the dull blue sky of the
+vaulted ceiling, where the rain and melting snow of winter storms had
+filtered through from the dilapidated roof. The ruinous condition of
+everything in and about the crumbling old château, to which de Sigognac
+had been perfectly accustomed before he quitted it, and taken as a
+matter of course, now struck him forcibly, and increased his dejection.
+He saw in it the sad and inevitable decadence of his race, and said to
+himself, “If these ancient walls had any pity for the last forlorn
+remnant of the family they have sheltered for centuries, they would
+fall in and bury me in their ruins.”
+
+When he reached the landing at the head of the stairs he took the lamp
+from Pierre’s hand, bade him good-night and dismissed him—not willing
+that even his faithful old servant, who had cared for him ever since
+his birth, should witness his overpowering emotion. He walked slowly
+through the great banqueting hall, where the comedians had supped on
+that memorable night, and the remembrance of that gay scene rendered
+the present dreary solitude and silence more terrible than they had
+ever seemed to him before. The death-like stillness was only broken by
+the horrid gnawing of a rat somewhere in the wall, and the old family
+portraits glared down at him reproachfully, as he passed on below them
+with listless step and downcast eyes, oblivious of everything but his
+own deep misery, and his yearning for his lost Isabelle. As he came
+under the last portrait of all, that of his own sweet young mother, he
+suddenly looked up, and as his eyes rested on the calm, beautiful
+countenance—which had always worn such a pathetic, mournful expression
+that it used to make his heart ache to look at it in his boyish days—it
+seemed to smile upon him. He was startled for an instant, and then,
+thrilling with a strange, exquisite delight, and inspired with new hope
+and courage, he said in a low, earnest tone, “I accept my dear dead
+mother’s smile as a good omen—perhaps all may not be lost even yet—I
+will try to believe so.”
+
+After a moment of silent thought, he went on into his own chamber, and
+put down the small lamp he carried, upon the little table, where still
+lay the stray volume of Ronsard’s poems that he had been reading—or
+rather trying to read—on that tempestuous night when the old pedant
+knocked at his door. And there was his bed, where Isabelle had
+slept—the very pillow upon which her dear head had rested. He trembled
+as he stood and gazed at it, and saw, as in a vision, the perfect form
+lying there again in his place, and the sweetest face in all the world
+turned towards him, with a tender smile parting the ripe red lips, a
+rosy flush mantling in the delicate cheeks, and warm lovelight shining
+in the deep blue eyes. He stood spell-bound—afraid to move or
+breathe—and worshipped the beautiful vision with all his soul and
+strength, as if it had been indeed divine—but alas! it faded as
+suddenly as it had appeared, and he felt as if the doors of heaven had
+been shut upon him. He hastily undressed, and threw himself down in the
+place where Isabelle had actually reposed; passionately kissed the
+pillow that had been hallowed by the touch of her head, and bedewed it
+with his tears. He lay long awake, thinking of the angelic being who
+loved him and whom he adored, whilst Beelzebub, rolled up in a ball,
+slept at his feet, and snored like the traditional cat of Mahomet, that
+lay and slumbered upon the prophet’s sleeve.
+
+When morning came, de Sigognac was more impressed than ever with the
+dilapidated, crumbling condition of his ancient mansion. Daylight has
+no mercy upon old age and ruins; it reveals with cruel distinctness the
+wrinkles, gray hairs, poverty, misery, stains, fissures, dust and mould
+in which they abound; but more kindly night softens or conceals all
+defects, with its friendly shade, spreading over them its mantle of
+darkness. The rooms that used to seem so vast to their youthful owner
+had shrunken, and looked almost small and insignificant to him now, to
+his extreme surprise and mortification; but he soon regained the
+feeling of being really at home, and resumed his former way of life
+completely; just as one goes back to an old garment, that has for a
+time been laid aside, and replaced by a new one. His days were spent
+thus: early in the morning he went to say a short prayer in the
+half-ruined chapel where his ancestors lay, ere he repaired to the
+kitchen where his simple breakfast awaited him; that disposed of, he
+and old Pierre fetched their swords, and fought their friendly duels;
+after which he mounted Bayard, or the pony he had brought home with
+him, and went off for long, solitary rides over the desolate Landes.
+Returning late in the afternoon he sat, sad and silent as of old, until
+his frugal supper was prepared, partook of it, also in silence, and
+then retired to his lonely chamber, where he tried to read some musty
+old volume which he knew by heart already, or else flung himself on his
+bed—never without kissing the sacred pillow that had supported
+Isabelle’s beloved head—and lay there a prey to mournful and bitter
+meditations, until at last he could forget his troubles and grief in
+sleep. There was not a vestige left of the brilliant Captain Fracasse,
+nor of the high-spirited rival of the haughty Duke of Vallombreuse; the
+unfortunate young Baron de Sigognac had relapsed entirely into the
+sad-eyed, dejected master of Castle Misery.
+
+One morning he sauntered listlessly down into the garden, which was
+wilder and more overgrown than ever—a tangled mass of weeds and
+brambles. He mechanically directed his steps towards the straggling
+eglantine that had had a little rose ready for each of the fair
+visitors that accompanied him when last he was there, and was surprised
+and delighted to see that it again held forth, as if for his
+acceptance, two lovely little blossoms that had come out to greet him,
+and upon each of which a dewdrop sparkled amid the frail, delicately
+tinted petals. He was strangely moved and touched by the sight of these
+tiny wild roses, which awoke such tender, precious memories, and he
+repeated to himself, as he had often done before, the words in which
+Isabelle had confessed to him that she had furtively kissed the little
+flower, his offering, and dropped a tear upon it, and then secretly
+given him her own heart in exchange for it—surely the sweetest words
+ever spoken on this earth. He gently plucked one of the dainty little
+roses, passionately inhaled its delicate fragrance and pressed a kiss
+upon it, as if it had been her lips, which were not less sweet, and
+soft, and fresh. He had done nothing but think of Isabelle ever since
+their separation, and he fully realized now, if he had not before, how
+indispensable she was to his happiness. She was never out of his mind,
+waking or sleeping, for he dreamed of her every night, and his love
+grew fonder, if that were possible, as the weary days went on. She was
+so good and true, so pure and sweet, so beautiful, so everything that
+was lovely and desirable, “made of all creatures’ best,” a veritable
+angel in human guise. Ah! how passionately he loved her—how could he
+live without her? Yet he feared—he was almost forced to believe—that he
+had lost her irreparably, and that for him hope was dead. Those were
+terrible days for the poor, grief-stricken young baron, and he felt
+that he could not long endure such misery and live. Two or three months
+passed away thus, and one day when de Sigognac chanced to be in his own
+room, finishing a sonnet addressed to Isabelle, Pierre entered, and
+announced to his master that there was a gentleman without who wished
+to speak with him.
+
+“A gentleman, who wants to see me!” exclaimed the astonished baron.
+“You must be either romancing or mad, my good Pierre! There is no
+gentleman in the world who can have anything to say to me. However, for
+the rarity of the thing, you may bring in this extraordinary mortal—if
+such there really be, and you are not dreaming, as I shrewdly suspect.
+But tell me his name first, or hasn’t he got any?”
+
+“He declined to give it, saying that it would not afford your lordship
+any information,” Pierre made answer, as he turned back and opened wide
+both leaves of the door.
+
+Upon the threshold appeared a handsome young man, dressed in a rich and
+elegant travelling costume of chestnut brown cloth trimmed with green,
+and holding in his hand a broad felt hat with a long green plume;
+leaving his well shaped, proudly carried head fully exposed to view, as
+well as the delicate, regular features of a face worthy of an ancient
+Greek statue. The sight of this fine cavalier did not seem to make an
+agreeable impression upon de Sigognac, who turned very pale, and
+rushing to where his trusty sword was suspended, over the head of his
+bed, drew it from the scabbard, and turned to face the new-comer with
+the naked blade in his hand.
+
+“By heaven, my lord duke, I believed that I had killed you!” he cried
+in excited tones. “Is it really you—your very self—or your wraith that
+stands before me?”
+
+“It is really I—my very self—Hannibal de Vallombreuse, in the flesh,
+and no wraith; as far from being dead as possible,” answered the young
+duke, with a radiant smile. “But put up that sword I pray you, my dear
+baron! We have fought twice already, you know, and surely that is
+enough. I do not come as an enemy, and if I have to reproach myself
+with some little sins against you, you have certainly had your revenge
+for them, so we are quits. To prove that my intentions are not hostile,
+but of the most friendly nature if you will so allow, I have brought
+credentials, in the shape of this commission, signed by the king, which
+gives you command of a regiment. My good father and I have reminded his
+majesty of the devotion of your illustrious ancestors to his royal
+ones, and I have ventured to bring you this good news in person. And
+now, as I am your guest, I pray you have something or other killed, I
+don’t care what, and put on the spit to roast as quickly as may be—for
+the love of God give me something to eat—I am starving. The inns are so
+far apart and so abominably bad down here that there might almost as
+well be none at all, and my baggage-wagon, stocked with edibles, is
+stuck fast in a quagmire a long way from this. So you see the
+necessities of the case.”
+
+“I am very much afraid, my lord duke, that the fare I can offer will
+seem to you only another form of revenge on my part,” said de Sigognac
+with playful courtesy; “but do not, I beseech you, attribute to
+resentment the meagre repast for which I shall be obliged to claim your
+indulgence. You must know how gladly I would put before you a sumptuous
+meal if I could; and what we can give you will at least, as my good
+Pierre says, satisfy hunger, though it may not gratify the palate. And
+let me now say that your frank and cordial words touch me deeply, and
+find an echo in my inmost heart. I am both proud and happy to call you
+my friend—henceforth you will not have one more loyal and devoted than
+myself—and though you may not often have need of my services, they will
+be, none the less, always at your disposition. Halloa! Pierre! do you
+go, without a moment’s delay, and hunt up some fowls, eggs, meat,
+whatever you can find, and try to serve a substantial meal to this
+gentleman, my friend, who is nearly dying with hunger, and is not used
+to it like you and I.”
+
+Pierre put in his pocket some of the money his master had sent him from
+Paris—which he had never touched before—mounted the pony, and galloped
+off to the nearest village in search of provisions. He found several
+fowls—such as they were—a splendid Bayonne ham, a few bottles of fine
+old wine, and by great good luck, discovered, at the priest’s house, a
+grand big _pâté_ of ducks’ livers—a delicacy worthy of a bishop’s or a
+prince’s table—and which he had much difficulty to obtain from his
+reverence, who was a bit of a gourmand, at an almost fabulous price.
+But this was evidently a great occasion, and the faithful old servant
+would spare no pains to do it honour. In less than an hour he was at
+home again, and leaving the charge of the cooking to a capable woman he
+had found and sent out to the château, he immediately proceeded to set
+the table, in the ancient banqueting hall—gathering together all the
+fine porcelain and dainty glass that yet remained intact in the two
+tall buffets—evidences of former splendour. But the profusion of gold
+and silver plate that used to adorn the festive board of the de
+Sigognacs had all been converted into coin of the realm long ago.
+
+When at last the old servant announced that dinner was ready, the two
+young men took their places opposite to each other at table, and
+Vallombreuse, who was in the gayest, most jovial mood, attacked the
+viands with an eagerness and ferocity immensely diverting to his host.
+After devouring almost the whole of a chicken, which, it is true,
+seemed to have died of a consumption, there was so little flesh on its
+bones, he fell back upon the tempting, rosy slices of the delicate
+Bayonne ham, and then passed to the _pâté_ of ducks’ livers, which he
+declared to be supremely delicious, exquisite, ambrosial—food fit for
+the gods; and he found the sharp cheese, made of goat’s milk, which
+followed, an excellent relish. He praised the wine, too—which was
+really very old and fine and drank it with great gusto, out of his
+delicate Venetian wine-glass. Once, when he caught sight of Pierre’s
+bewildered, terrified look, as he heard his master address his merry
+guest as the Duke of Vallombreuse—who ought to be dead, if he was
+not—he fairly roared with laughter, and was as full of fun and frolic
+as a school-boy out for a holiday; Meantime de Sigognac, whilst he
+endeavoured to play the attentive host, and to respond as well as he
+could to the young duke’s lively sallies, could not recover from his
+surprise at seeing him sitting there opposite to himself, as a guest at
+his own table—making himself very much at home, too, in the most
+charming, genial, easy way imaginable—and yet he was the haughty,
+overbearing, insolent young nobleman, who had been his hated rival;
+whom he had twice encountered and defeated, in fierce combat, and who
+had several times tried to compass his death by means of hired
+ruffians. What could be the explanation of it all?
+
+The Duke of Vallombreuse divined his companion’s thoughts, and when the
+old servant had retired, after placing a bottle of especially choice
+wine and two small glasses on the table, he looked up at de Sigognac
+and said, with the most amicable frankness, “I can plainly perceive, my
+dear baron, in spite of your admirable courtesy, that this unexpected
+step of mine appears very strange and inexplicable to you. You have
+been saying to yourself, How in the world has it come about, that the
+arrogant, imperious Vallombreuse has been transformed, from the
+unscrupulous, cruel, blood-thirsty tiger that he was, into the
+peaceable, playful lamb he seems to be now—which a ‘gentle shepherdess’
+might lead about with a ribbon round its neck!—I will tell you. During
+the six weeks that I was confined to my bed, I made various
+reflections, which the thoughtless might pronounce cowardly, but which
+are permitted to the bravest and most valiant when death stares them in
+the face. I realized then, for the first time, the relative value of
+many things, and also how wrong and wicked my own course had been; and
+I promised myself to do very differently for the future, if I
+recovered. As the passionate love that Isabelle inspired in my heart
+had been replaced by a pure and sacred fraternal affection—which is the
+greatest blessing of my life—I had no further reason to dislike you.
+You were no longer my rival; a brother cannot be jealous in that way of
+his own sister; and then, I was deeply grateful to you, for the
+respectful tenderness and deference I knew you had never failed to
+manifest towards her, when she was in a position that authorized great
+license. You were the first to recognise her pure, exalted soul, while
+she was still only an obscure actress. When she was poor, and despised
+by those who will cringe to her now, you offered to her—lowly as was
+her station—the most precious treasure that a nobleman can possess: the
+time-honoured name of his ancestors. You would have made her your wife
+then—now that she is rich, and of high rank, she belongs to you of
+right. The true, faithful lover of Isabelle, the actress, should be the
+honoured husband of the Comtesse de Lineuil.”
+
+“But you forget,” cried de Sigognac, in much agitation, “that she
+always absolutely refused me, though she knew that I was perfectly
+disinterested.”
+
+“It was because of her supreme delicacy, her angelic susceptibility,
+and her noble spirit of self-sacrifice that she said that. She feared
+that she would necessarily be a disadvantage to you—an obstacle in the
+way of your advancement. But the situation is entirely changed now.”
+
+“Yes, now it is I who would be a disadvantage to her; have I then a
+right to be less generous and magnanimous than she was?”
+
+“Do you still love my sister?” said Vallombreuse, in a grave tone. “As
+her brother, I have the right to ask this question.”
+
+“I love her with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength,”
+de Sigognac replied fervently, “as much and more than ever man loved
+woman on this earth—where nothing is perfect—save Isabelle.”
+
+“Such being the case, my dear Captain of Mousquetaires, and governor of
+a province—soon to be—have your horse saddled, and come with me to the
+Château of Vallombreuse, so that I may formally present you to the
+prince, my father, as the favoured suitor of the Comtesse de Lineuil,
+my sister. Isabelle has refused even to think of the Chevalier de
+Vidalinc, or the Marquis de l’Estang, as aspirants to her hand—both
+right handsome, attractive, eligible young fellows, by Jove!—but I am
+of opinion that she will accept, without very much persuasion, the
+Baron de Sigognac.”
+
+The next day the duke and the baron were riding gaily forward, side by
+side, on the road to Paris.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+CHIQUITA’S DECLARATION OF LOVE
+
+
+A compact crowd filled the Place de Grève, despite the early hour
+indicated by the clock of the Hôtel de Ville.
+
+The tall buildings on the eastern side of the square threw their
+shadows more than half-way across it, and upon a sinister-looking
+wooden framework, which rose several feet above the heads of the
+populace, and bore a number of ominous, dull red stains. At the windows
+of the houses surrounding the crowded square, a few heads were to be
+seen looking out from time to time, but quickly drawn back again as
+they perceived that the interesting performance, for which all were
+waiting, had not yet begun. Clinging to the transverse piece of the
+tall stone cross, which stood at that side of the open square nearest
+the river, was a forlorn, little, ragged boy, who had climbed up to it
+with the greatest difficulty, and was holding on with all his might,
+his arms clasped round the cross-piece and his legs round the upright,
+in a most painful and precarious position. But nothing would have
+induced him to abandon it, so long as he could possibly maintain
+himself there, no matter at what cost of discomfort, or even actual
+distress, for from it he had a capital view of the scaffold, and all
+its horribly fascinating details—the wheel upon which the criminal was
+to revolve, the coil of rope to bind him to it, and the heavy bar to
+break his bones.
+
+If any one among the anxious crowd of spectators, however, had
+carefully studied the small, thin countenance of the child perched up
+on the tall stone cross, he would have discovered that its expression
+was by no means that of vulgar curiosity. It was not simply the fierce
+attractions of an execution that had drawn thither this wild,
+weird-looking young creature, with his sun-burned complexion, great,
+flashing, dark eyes, brilliant white teeth, unkempt masses of thick,
+black hair, and slender brown hands—which were convulsively clinging to
+the rough, cold stone. The delicacy of the features would seem to
+indicate a different sex from the dress—but nobody paid any attention
+to the child, And all eyes were turned towards the scaffold, or the
+direction from which the cart bearing the condemned criminal was to
+come. Among the groups close around the scaffold were several faces we
+have seen before; notably, the chalky countenance and fiery red nose of
+Malartic, and the bold profile of Jacquemin Lampourde, also several of
+the ruffians engaged in the abduction of Isabelle, as well as various
+other _habitués_ of the Crowned Radish. The Place de Grève, to which
+sooner or later they were all pretty sure to come and expiate their
+crimes with their lives, seemed to exercise a singular fascination over
+murderers, thieves, and criminals of all sorts, who invariably gathered
+in force to witness an execution. They evidently could not resist it,
+and appeared to find a fierce satisfaction in watching the terrible
+spectacle that they themselves would some day probably furnish to the
+gaping multitude. Then the victim himself always expected his friends’
+attendance—he would be hurt and disappointed if his comrades did not
+rally round him at the last. A criminal in that position likes to see
+familiar faces in the throng that hems him in. It gives him courage,
+steadies his nerves.
+
+He cannot exhibit any signs of cowardice before those who appreciate
+true merit and bravery, according to his way of thinking, and pride
+comes to his aid. A man will meet death like a Roman under such
+circumstances, who would be weak as a woman if he were despatched in
+private.
+
+The criminal to be executed on that occasion was a thief, already
+notorious in Paris for his daring and dexterity, though he had only
+been there a few months. But, unfortunately for himself—though very
+much the reverse for the well-to-do citizens of the capital in
+general—he had not confined himself to his legitimate business. In his
+last enterprise—breaking into a private dwelling to gain possession of
+a large sum of money that was to be kept there for a single night—he
+had killed the master of the house, who was aroused by his entrance;
+and, not content to stop there, had also brutally murdered his wife, as
+she lay quietly sleeping in her bed—like a tiger, that has tasted blood
+and is wild for more. So atrocious a crime had roused the indignation
+of even his own unscrupulous, hardened companions, and it was not long
+ere his hiding-place was mysteriously revealed, and he was arrested,
+tried, and condemned to death. Now he was to pay the penalty of his
+guilt.
+
+As the fatal hour approached, a carriage drove down along the quay,
+turned into the Place de Grève, and attempted to cross it; but,
+becoming immediately entangled in the crowd, could make little or no
+progress, despite the utmost exertions of the majestic coachman and
+attendant lackeys to induce the people to make way for it, and let it
+pass.
+
+But for the grand coat of arms and ducal coronet emblazoned on the
+panels, which inspired a certain awe as well as respect in the motley
+throng of pedestrians, the equipage would undoubtedly have been roughly
+dealt with-but as it was, they contented themselves with resolutely and
+obstinately barring its passage, after it had reached the middle of the
+square. The indignant coachman did not dare to urge his spirited horses
+forward at all hazards, ruthlessly trampling down the unlucky
+individuals who happened to be directly in his way, as he would
+certainly have done in any ordinary crowd, for the _canaille_, that
+filled the Place de Grève to overflowing, was out in too great force to
+be trifled with—so there was nothing for it but patience.
+
+“These rascals are waiting for an execution, and will not stir, nor let
+us stir, until it is over,” said a remarkably handsome young man,
+magnificently dressed, to his equally fine looking, though more
+modestly attired friend, who was seated beside him in the luxurious
+carriage. “The devil take the unlucky dog who must needs be broken on
+the wheel just when we want to cross the Place de Grève. Why couldn’t
+he have put it off until to-morrow morning, I should like to know!”
+
+“You may be sure that the poor wretch would be only too glad to do so
+if he could,” answered the other, “for the occasion is a far more
+serious matter to him than to us.”
+
+“The best thing we can do under the circumstances, my dear de Sigognac,
+is to turn our heads away if the spectacle is too revolting—though it
+is by no means easy, when something horrible is taking place close at
+hand. Even Saint Augustine opened his eyes in the arena at a loud cheer
+from the people, though he had vowed to himself beforehand to keep them
+closed.”
+
+“At all events, we shall not be detained here long,” rejoined de
+Sigognac, “for there comes the prisoner. See, Vallombreuse, how the
+crowd gives way before him, though it will not let us move an inch.”
+
+A rickety cart, drawn by a miserable old skeleton of a horse, and
+surrounded by mounted guards, was slowly advancing through the dense
+throng towards the scaffold. In it were a venerable priest, with a long
+white beard, who was holding a crucifix to the lips of the condemned
+man, seated beside him, the executioner, placed behind his victim, and
+holding the end of the rope that bound him, and an assistant, who was
+driving the poor old horse. The criminal, whom every one turned to gaze
+at, was no other than our old acquaintance, Agostino, the brigand.
+
+“Why, what is this!” cried de Sigognac, in great surprise. “I know that
+man—he is the fellow who stopped us on the highway, and tried to
+frighten us with his band of scarecrows, as poor Matamore called them.
+I told you all about it when we came by the place where it happened.”
+
+“Yes, I remember perfectly,” said Vallombreuse; “it was a capital
+story, and I had a good laugh over it. But it would seem that the
+ingenious rascal has been up to something more serious since then—his
+ambition has probably been his ruin. He certainly is no coward—only
+look what a good face he puts on it.”
+
+Agostino, holding his head proudly erect, but a trifle paler than usual
+perhaps, seemed to be searching for some one in the crowd. When the
+cart passed slowly in front of the stone cross, he caught sight of the
+little boy, who had not budged from his excessively uncomfortable and
+wearisome position, and a flash of joy shone in the brigand’s eyes, a
+slight smile parted his lips, as he made an almost imperceptible sign
+with his head, and said, in a low tone, “Chiquita!”
+
+“My son, what was that strange word you spoke?” asked the priest. “It
+sounded like an outlandish woman’s name. Dismiss all such subjects from
+your mind, and fix your thoughts on your own hopes of salvation, for
+you stand on the threshold of eternity.”
+
+“Yes, my father, I know it but too well, and though my hair is black
+and my form erect, whilst you are bowed with age, and your long beard
+is white as snow, you are younger now than I—every turn of the wheels,
+towards that scaffold yonder, ages me by ten years.”
+
+During this brief colloquy the cart had made steady progress, and in a
+moment more had stopped at the foot of the rude wooden steps that led
+up to the scaffold, which Agostino ascended slowly but
+unfalteringly—preceded by the assistant, supported by the priest, and
+followed by the executioner. In less than a minute he was firmly bound
+upon the wheel, and the executioner, having thrown off his showy
+scarlet cloak, braided with white, and rolled up his sleeves, stooped
+to pick up the terrible bar that lay at his feet. It was a moment of
+intense horror and excitement. An anxious curiosity, largely mixed with
+dread, oppressed the hearts of the spectators, who stood motionless,
+breathless, with pale faces, and straining eyes fixed upon the tragic
+group on the fatal scaffold. Suddenly a strange stir ran through the
+crowd—the child, who was perched up on the cross, had slipped quickly
+down to the ground, and gliding like a serpent through the closely
+packed throng, reached the scaffold, cleared the steps at a bound, and
+appeared beside the astonished executioner, who was just in the act of
+raising the ponderous bar to strike, with such a wild, ghastly, yet
+inspired and noble countenance—lighted up by a strength of will and
+purpose that made it actually sublime—that the grim dealer of death
+paused involuntarily, and withheld the murderous blow about to fall.
+
+“Get out of my way, thou puppet!” he roared in angry tones, as he
+recovered his _sang-froid_, “or thou wilt get thy accursed head
+smashed.”
+
+But Chiquita paid no attention to him—she did not care whether she was
+killed too, or not. Bending over Agostino, she passionately kissed his
+forehead, whispered “I love thee!”—and then, with a blow as swift as
+lightning, plunged into his heart the knife she had reclaimed from
+Isabelle. It was dealt with so firm a hand, and unerring an aim, that
+death was almost instantaneous—scarcely had Agostino time to murmur
+“Thanks.”
+
+With a wild burst of hysterical laughter the child sprang down from the
+scaffold, while the executioner, stupefied at her bold deed, lowered
+his now useless club; uncertain whether or not he should proceed to
+break the bones of the man already dead, and beyond his power to
+torture.
+
+“Well done, Chiquita, well done, and bravely!” cried Malartic—who had
+recognised her in spite of her boy’s clothes—losing his self-restraint
+in his admiration. The other ruffians, who had seen Chiquita at the
+Crowned Radish, and wondered at and admired her courage when she stood
+against the door and let Agostino fling his terrible _navaja_ at her
+without moving a muscle, now grouped themselves closely together so as
+to effectually prevent the soldiers from pursuing her. The fracas that
+ensued gave Chiquita time to reach the carriage of the Duke of
+Vallombreuse—which, taking advantage of the stir and shifting in the
+throng, was slowly making its way out of the Place de Grève. She
+climbed up on the step, and catching sight of de Sigognac within,
+appealed to him, in scarcely audible words, as she panted and
+trembled—“I saved your Isabelle, now save me!”
+
+Vallombreuse, who had been very much interested by this strange and
+exciting scene, cried to the coachman, “Get on as fast as you can, even
+if you have to drive over the people.”
+
+But there was no need—the crowd opened as if by magic before the
+carriage, and closed again compactly after it had passed, so that
+Chiquita’s pursuers could not penetrate it, or make any progress—they
+were completely baffled, whichever way they turned. Meanwhile the
+fugitive was being rapidly carried beyond their reach. As soon as the
+open street was gained, the coachman had urged his horses forward, and
+in a very few minutes they reached the Porte Saint Antoine. As the
+report of what had occurred in the Place de Grève could not have
+preceded them, Vallombreuse thought it better to proceed at a more
+moderate pace—fearing that their very speed might arouse suspicion—and
+gave orders accordingly; as soon as they were fairly beyond the gate he
+took Chiquita into the carriage—where she seated herself, without a
+word, opposite to de Sigognac. Under the calmest exterior she was
+filled with a preternatural excitement—not a muscle of her face moved;
+but a bright flush glowed on her usually pale cheeks, which gave to her
+magnificent dark eyes—now fixed upon vacancy, and seeing nothing that
+was before them—a marvellous brilliancy. A complete transformation had
+taken place in Chiquita—this violent shock had torn asunder the
+childish chrysalis in which the young maiden had lain dormant—as she
+plunged her knife into Agostino’s heart she opened her own. Her love
+was born of that murder—the strange, almost sexless being, half child,
+half goblin, that she had been until then, existed no longer—Chiquita
+was a woman from the moment of that heroic act of sublime devotion. Her
+passion, that had bloomed out in one instant, was destined to be
+eternal—a kiss and a stab, that was Chiquita’s love story.
+
+The carriage rolled smoothly and swiftly on its way towards
+Vallombreuse, and when the high, steep roof of the château came in
+sight the young duke said to de Sigognac, “You must go with me to my
+room first, where you can get rid of the dust, and freshen up a bit
+before I present you to my sister—who knows nothing whatever of my
+journey, or its motive. I have prepared a surprise for her, and I want
+it to be complete—so please draw down the curtain on your side, while I
+do the same on mine, in order that we may not be seen, as we drive into
+the court, from any of the windows that command a view of it. But what
+are we to do with this little wretch here?”
+
+Chiquita, who was roused from her deep reverie by the duke’s question,
+looked gravely up at him, and said, “Let some one take me to Mlle.
+Isabelle—she will decide what is to be done with me.”
+
+With all the curtains carefully drawn down the carriage drove over the
+drawbridge and into the court. Vallombreuse alighted, took de
+Sigognac’s arm, and led him silently to his own apartment, after having
+ordered a servant to conduct Chiquita to the presence of the Comtesse
+de Lineuil. At sight of her Isabelle was greatly astonished, and,
+laying down the book she was reading, fixed upon the poor child a look
+full of interest, affection, and questioning.
+
+Chiquita stood silent and motionless until the servant had retired,
+then, with a strange solemnity, which was entirely new in her, she went
+up to Isabelle, and timidly taking her hand, said:
+
+“My knife is in Agostino’s heart. I have no master now, and I must
+devote myself to somebody. Next to him who is dead I love you best of
+all the world. You gave me the pearl necklace I wished for, and you
+kissed me. Will you have me for your servant, your slave, your dog?
+Only give me a black dress, so that I may wear mourning for my lost
+love—it is all I ask. I will sleep on the floor outside your door, so
+that I shall not be in your way. When you want me, whistle for me, like
+this,”—and she whistled shrilly—“and I will come instantly. Will you
+have me?”
+
+In answer Isabelle drew Chiquita into her arms, pressed her lips to the
+girl’s forehead warmly, and thankfully accepted this soul, that
+dedicated itself to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+HYMEN! OH HYMEN!
+
+
+Isabelle, accustomed to Chiquita’s odd, enigmatical ways, had refrained
+from questioning her—waiting to ask for explanations until the poor
+girl should have become more quiet, and able to give them. She could
+see that some terrible catastrophe must have occurred, which had left
+all her nerves quivering, and caused the strong shudders that passed
+over her in rapid succession; but the child had rendered her such good
+service, in her own hour of need, that she felt the least she could do
+was to receive and care for the poor little waif tenderly, without
+making any inquiries as to her evidently desperate situation. After
+giving her in charge to her own maid, with orders that she should be
+properly clothed, and made thoroughly comfortable in every way,
+Isabelle resumed her reading—or rather tried to resume it; but her
+thoughts would wander, and after mechanically turning over a few pages
+in a listless way, she laid the book down, beside her neglected
+embroidery, on a little table at her elbow. Leaning her head on her
+hand, and closing her eyes, she lapsed into a sorrowful reverie—as,
+indeed, she had done of late many times every day.
+
+“Oh! what has become of de Sigognac?” she said to herself. “Where can
+he be? and does he still think of me, and love me as of old? Yes, I am
+sure he does; he will be true and faithful to me so long as he lives,
+my brave, devoted knight! I fear that he has gone back to his desolate,
+old château, and, believing that my brother is dead, does not dare to
+approach me. It must be that chimerical obstacle that stands in his
+way—otherwise he would surely have tried to see me again—or at least
+have written to me. Perhaps I ought to have sent him word that
+Vallombreuse had recovered; yet how could I do that? A modest woman
+shrinks from even seeming to wish to entice her absent lover back to
+her side. How often I think that I should be far happier if I could
+have remained as I was—an obscure actress; then I could at least have
+had the bliss of seeing him every day, and of enjoying in peace the
+sweetness of being loved by such a noble, tender heart as his. Despite
+the touching affection and devotion that my princely father lavishes
+upon me, I feel sad and lonely in this magnificent château. If
+Vallombreuse were only here his society would help to pass the time;
+but he is staying away so long—and I try in vain to make out what he
+meant when he told me, with such a significant smile, as he bade me
+adieu, that I would be pleased with what he was about to do. Sometimes
+I fancy that I do understand; but I dare not indulge myself with such
+blissful thoughts for an instant. If I did, and were mistaken after
+all, the disappointment would be too cruel—too heart-rending. But, if
+it only could be true! ah! if it only might! I fear I should go mad
+with excess of joy.”
+
+The young Comtesse de Lineuil was still absorbed in sad thoughts when a
+tall lackey appeared, and asked if she would receive his lordship, the
+Duke of Vallombreuse who had just arrived, at the château and desired
+to speak with her.
+
+“Certainly, I shall be delighted to see him,” she said in glad
+surprise; “ask him to come to me at once.”
+
+In a few minutes—which had seemed like hours to Isabelle—the young duke
+made his appearance, with beaming eyes, rosy cheeks, light, elastic
+step, and that air of glorious health and vigour which had
+distinguished him before his illness. He threw down his broad felt hat
+as he came in, and, hastening to his sister’s side, took her pretty
+white hands and raised them to his lips.
+
+“Dearest Isabelle,” he cried, “I am so rejoiced to see you again! I was
+obliged to stay away from you much longer than I wished, for it is a
+great deprivation to me now not to be with you every day—I have gotten
+so thoroughly into the habit of depending upon your sweet society. But
+I have been occupied entirely with your interests during my absence,
+and the hope of pleasing my darling sister, and adding to her
+happiness, has helped me to endure the long separation from her.”
+
+“The way to please me most, as you ought to have known,” Isabelle
+replied, “was to stay here at home quietly with your father and me, and
+let us take care of you, instead of rushing off so rashly—with your
+wound scarcely healed, or your health fully re-established—on some
+foolish errand or other, that you were not willing to acknowledge.”
+
+“Was I ever really wounded, or ill?” said Vallombreuse, laughing. “Upon
+my word I had forgotten all about it. Never in my life was I in better
+health than at this moment, and my little expedition has done me no end
+of good. But you, my sweet sister, are not looking as well as when I
+left you; you have grown thin and pale. What is the matter? I fear that
+you find your life here at the château very dull. Solitude and
+seclusion are not at all the thing for a beautiful young woman, I know.
+Reading and embroidery are but melancholy pastimes at best and there
+must be moments when even the gravest, most sedate of maidens grows
+weary of gazing out upon the stagnant waters of the moat, and longs to
+look upon the face of a handsome young knight.”
+
+“Oh! what an unmerciful tease you are, Vallombreuse, and how you do
+love to torment me with these strange fancies of yours. You forget that
+I have had the society of the prince, who is so kind and devoted to me,
+and who abounds in wise and instructive discourse.”
+
+“Yes, there is no doubt that our worthy father is a most learned and
+accomplished gentleman, honoured and admired at home and abroad; but
+his pursuits and occupations are too grave and weighty for you to
+share, my dear little sister, and I don’t want to see your youth passed
+altogether in such a solemn way. As you would not smile upon my friend,
+the Chevalier de Vidalinc, nor condescend to listen to the suit of the
+Marquis de l’Estang, I concluded to go in search of somebody that would
+be more likely to please your fastidious taste, and, my dear, I have
+found him. Such a charming, perfect, ideal husband he will make! I am
+convinced that you will dote upon him.”
+
+“It is downright cruelty, Vallombreuse, to persecute me as you do, with
+such unfeeling jests. You know perfectly well that I do not wish to
+marry; I cannot give my hand without my heart, and my heart is not mine
+to give.”
+
+“But you will talk very differently, I do assure you, my dear little
+sister, when you see the husband I have chosen for you.”
+
+“Never! never!” cried Isabelle, whose voice betrayed her distress. “I
+shall always be faithful to a memory that is infinitely dear and
+precious to me; for I cannot think that you intend to force me to act
+against my will.”
+
+“Oh, no! I am not quite such a tyrant as that; I only ask you not to
+reject my protégé before you have seen him.”
+
+Without waiting for her reply, Vallombreuse abruptly left the room, and
+returned in a moment with de Sigognac, whose heart was throbbing as if
+it would burst out of his breast. The two young men, hand in hand,
+paused on the threshold, hoping that Isabelle would turn her eyes
+towards them; but she modestly cast them down and kept them fixed upon
+the floor, while her thoughts flew far away, to hover about the beloved
+being who she little dreamed was so near her. Vallombreuse, seeing that
+she took no notice of them, and had fallen into a reverie, advanced
+towards her, still holding de Sigognac by the hand, and made a
+ceremonious bow, as did also his companion; but while the young duke
+was smiling and gay, de Sigognac was deeply agitated, and very pale.
+Brave as a lion when he had to do with men, he was timid with women—as
+are all generous, manly hearts.
+
+“Comtesse de Lineuil,” said Vallombreuse, in an emphatic tone of voice,
+“permit me to present to you one of my dearest friends, for whom I
+entreat your favour—the Baron de Sigognac.”
+
+As he pronounced this name, which she at first believed to be a jest on
+her brother’s part, Isabelle started, trembled violently, and then
+glanced up timidly at the newcomer.
+
+When she saw that Vallombreuse had not deceived her, that it was really
+he, her own true lover, standing there before her, she turned deathly
+pale, and had nearly fallen from her chair; then the quick reaction
+came, and a most lovely blush spread itself all over her fair face, and
+even her snowy neck, as far as it could be seen. Without a word, she
+sprang up, and throwing her arms round her brother’s neck hid her face
+on his shoulder, while two or three convulsive sobs shook her slender
+frame and a little shower of tears fell from her eyes. By this
+instinctive movement, so exquisitely modest and truly feminine,
+Isabelle manifested all the exceeding delicacy and purity of her
+nature. Thus were her warm thanks to Vallombreuse, whose kindness and
+generosity overcame her, mutely expressed; and as she could not follow
+the dictates of her heart, and throw herself into her lover’s arms, she
+took refuge in her transport of joy with her brother, who had restored
+him to her.
+
+Vallombreuse supported her tenderly for a few moments, until he found
+she was growing calmer, when he gently disengaged himself from her
+clasping arms, and drawing down the hands with which she had covered
+her face, to hide its tears and blushes, said, “My sweet sister, do
+not, I pray you, hide your lovely face from us; I fear my protégé will
+be driven to believe that you entertain such an invincible dislike to
+him you will not even look at him.”
+
+Isabelle raised her drooping head, and turning full upon de Sigognac
+her glorious eyes, shining with a celestial joy, in spite of the
+sparkling tear-drops that still hung upon their long lashes, held out
+to him her beautiful white hand, which he took reverentially in both
+his own, and bending down pressed fervently to his lips. The passionate
+kiss he imprinted upon it thrilled through Isabelle’s whole being, and
+for a second she turned faint and giddy; but the delicious ecstasy,
+which is almost anguish, of such emotion as hers, is never hurtful, and
+she presently looked up and smiled reassuringly upon her anxious lover,
+as the colour returned to her lips and cheeks, and the warm light to
+her eyes.
+
+“And now tell me, my sweet little sister,” began Vallombreuse, with an
+air of triumph, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “wasn’t I right
+when I declared that you would smile upon the husband I had chosen for
+you? and would not be discouraged, though you were so obstinate? If I
+had not been equally so, this dear de Sigognac would have gone back to
+his far-away château, without even having seen you; and that would have
+been a pity, as you must admit.”
+
+“Yes, I do admit it, my dearest brother, and also that you have been
+adorably kind and good to me. You were the only one who, under the
+circumstances, could bring about this reunion, and we both know how to
+appreciate what you have so nobly and generously done for us.”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” said de Sigognac warmly; “your brother has given us
+ample proof of the nobility and generosity of his nature—he
+magnanimously put aside the resentment that might seem legitimate, and
+came to me with his hand outstretched, and his heart in it. He revenges
+himself nobly for the harm I was obliged to do him, by imposing an
+eternal gratitude upon me—a light burden, that I shall bear joyfully so
+long as I live.”
+
+“Say nothing more about that, my dear baron!” Vallombreuse exclaimed.
+“You would have done as much in my place. The differences of two
+valiant adversaries are very apt to end in a warm mutual attachment—we
+were destined from the beginning to become, sooner or later, a devoted
+pair of friends; like Theseus and Pirithous, Nisus and Euryalus, or
+Damon and Pythias. But never mind about me now, and tell my sister how
+you were thinking of her, and longing for her, in that lonely château
+of yours; where, by the way, I made one of the best meals I ever had in
+my life, though you do pretend that starvation is the rule down there.”
+
+“And _I_ had a charming supper there too,” said Isabelle with a smile,
+“which I look back upon with the greatest pleasure.”
+
+“Nevertheless,” rejoined de Sigognac, “plenty does not abound there—but
+I cannot regret the blessed poverty that was the means of first winning
+me your regard, my precious darling! I am thankful for it—I owe
+everything to it.”
+
+“_I_ am of opinion,” interrupted Vallombreuse, with a significant
+smile, “that it would be well for me to go and report myself to my
+father. I want to announce your arrival to him myself, de Sigognac! Not
+that he will need to be specially prepared to receive you, for I am
+bound to confess—what may surprise my little sister here—that he knew
+such a thing might come about, and was equally implicated with my
+graceless self in this little conspiracy. But one thing yet—tell me
+before I go, Isabelle, Comtesse de Lineuil, whether you really do
+intend to accept the Baron de Sigognac as your husband—I don’t want to
+run any risk of making a blunder at this stage of the proceedings, you
+understand, after having conducted the negotiations successfully up to
+this point. You do definitely and finally accept him, eh?—that is
+well—and now I will go to the prince. Engaged lovers sometimes have
+matters to discuss that even a brother may not hear, so I will leave
+you together, feeling sure that you will both thank me for it in your
+hearts. Adieu!—make the most of your time, for I shall soon return to
+conduct de Sigognac to the prince.”
+
+With a laughing nod the young duke picked up his hat and went away,
+leaving the two happy lovers alone together, and—however agreeable his
+company may have been to them, it must be admitted that his absence
+was, as he had predicted, very welcome to both. The Baron de Sigognac
+eagerly approached Isabelle, and—again possessed himself of her fair
+hand, which she did not withdraw from his warm, loving clasp. Neither
+spoke, and for a few minutes the fond lovers stood side by side and
+gazed into each other’s eyes. Such silence is more eloquent than any
+words. At last de Sigognac said softly, “I can scarcely believe even
+yet in the reality of so much bliss. Oh! what a strange, contradictory
+destiny is mine. You loved me, my darling, because I was poor and
+unhappy—and thus my past misery was the direct cause of my present
+felicity. A troupe of strolling actors, who chanced to seek refuge
+under my crumbling roof, held in reserve for me an angel of purity and
+goodness—a hostile encounter has given me a devoted friend—and, most
+wonderful of all, your forcible abduction led to your meeting the fond
+father who had been seeking you so many years in vain. And all this
+because a Thespian chariot went astray one stormy night in the Landes.”
+
+“We were destined for each other—it was all arranged for us in heaven
+above. Twin souls are sure to come together at last, if they can only
+have patience to wait for the meeting. I felt instinctively, when we
+met at the Château de Sigognac, that you were my fate. At sight of you
+my heart, which had always lain dormant before, and never responded to
+any appeal, thrilled within me, and, unasked, yielded to you all its
+love and allegiance. Your very timidity won more for you than the
+greatest boldness and assurance could have done, and from the first
+moment of our acquaintance I resolved never to give myself to any one
+but you, or God.”
+
+“And yet, cruel, hard-hearted child that you were—though so divinely
+good and lovely—you refused your hand to me, when I sued for it on my
+knees. I know well that it was all through generosity, and that of the
+noblest—but, my darling, it was a very cruel generosity too.”
+
+“I will do my best to atone for it now, my dearest de Sigognac, in
+giving you this hand you wished for, together with my heart, which has
+long been all your own. The Comtesse de Lineuil is not bound to be
+governed by the scruples of Isabelle, the actress. I have had only one
+fear—that your pride might keep you from ever seeking me again as I am
+now. But, even if you had given me up, you would never have loved
+another woman, would you, de Sigognac? You would have been faithful to
+me always, even though you had renounced me—I felt so sure of that.
+Were you thinking of me down there in your ancient château, when
+Vallombreuse broke in upon your solitude?”
+
+“My dearest Isabelle, by day I had only one thought—of you—and at
+night, when I kissed the sacred pillow on which your lovely head had
+rested, before laying my own down upon it, I besought the god of dreams
+to show me your adored image while I slept.”
+
+“And were your prayers sometimes answered?”
+
+“Always—not once was I disappointed—and only when morning came did you
+leave me, vanishing through ‘the ivory gates.’ Oh I how interminable
+the sad, lonely days seemed to me, and how I wished that I could sleep,
+and dream of you, my angel, all the weary time.”
+
+“I saw you also in my dreams, many nights in succession. Our souls must
+have met, de Sigognac, while our bodies lay wrapped in slumber. But
+now, thanks be to God, we are reunited—and forever. The prince, my
+father, knew and approved of your being brought here, Vallombreuse
+said, so we can have no opposition to our wishes to fear from him. He
+has spoken to me of you several times of late in very flattering terms;
+looking at me searchingly, the while, in a way that greatly agitated
+and troubled me, for I did not know what might be in his mind, as
+Vallombreuse had not then told me that he no longer hated you, and I
+feared that he would always do so after his double defeat at your
+hands. But all the terrible anxiety is over now, my beloved, and
+blessed peace and happiness lie before us.”
+
+At this moment the door opened, and the young duke announced to de
+Sigognac that his father was waiting to receive him. The baron
+immediately rose from his seat beside Isabelle, bowed low to her, and
+followed Vallombreuse to the prince’s presence. The aged nobleman,
+dressed entirely in black, and with his breast covered with orders, was
+sitting in a large arm-chair at a table heaped up with books and
+papers, with which he had evidently been occupied. His attitude was
+stately and dignified, and the expression of his noble, benevolent
+countenance affable in the extreme. He rose to receive de Sigognac,
+gave him a cordial greeting, and politely bade him be seated.
+
+“My dear father,” said Vallombreuse, “I present to you the Baron de
+Sigognac; formerly my rival, now my friend, and soon to be my brother,
+if you consent. Any improvement that you may see in me is due to his
+influence, and it is no light obligation that I owe to him—though he
+will not admit that there is any. The baron comes to ask a favour of
+you, which I shall rejoice to see accorded to him.”
+
+The prince made a gesture of acquiescence, and looked reassuringly at
+de Sigognac, as if inviting him to speak fearlessly for himself.
+Encouraged by the expression of his eyes, the baron rose, and, with a
+low bow, said, in clear, distinct tones, “Prince, I am here to ask of
+you the hand of Mlle. la Comtesse Isabelle de Lineuil, your daughter.”
+
+The old nobleman looked at him steadily and searchingly for a moment,
+and then, as if satisfied with his scrutiny, answered: “Baron de
+Sigognac, I accede to your request, and consent to this alliance, with
+great pleasure—so far, that is, as my paternal will accords with the
+wishes of my beloved daughter—whom I should never attempt to coerce in
+anything. The Comtesse de Lineuil must be consulted in this matter, and
+herself decide the question which is of such vital importance to her. I
+cannot undertake to answer for her—the whims and fancies of young
+ladies are sometimes so odd and unexpected.”
+
+The prince said this with a mischievous smile—as if he had not long
+known that Isabelle loved de Sigognac with all her heart, and was
+pining for him. After a brief pause, he added: “Vallombreuse, go and
+fetch your sister, for, without her, I cannot give a definite answer to
+the Baron de Sigognac.”
+
+The young duke accordingly went for Isabelle, who was greatly alarmed
+at this summons, and obeyed it in fear and trembling. Despite her
+brother’s assurances, she could not bring herself to believe in the
+reality of such great happiness. Her breast heaved tumultuously, her
+face was very pale, at each step her knees threatened to give way under
+her, and when her father drew her fondly to his side she was forced to
+grasp the arm of his chair tightly, to save herself from falling.
+
+“My daughter,” said the prince gravely, “here is a gentleman who does
+you the honour to sue for your hand. For my own part, I should hail
+this union with joy—for he is of an ancient and illustrious family, of
+stainless reputation and tried courage, and appears to me to possess
+every qualification that heart could desire. I am perfectly satisfied
+with him—but has he succeeded in pleasing you, my child? Young heads do
+not always agree with gray ones. Examine your own heart carefully, and
+tell me if you are willing to accept the Baron de Sigognac as your
+husband. Take plenty of time to consider—you shall not be hurried, my
+dear child, in so grave a matter as this.”
+
+The prince’s kindly, cordial smile gave evidence that he was in a
+playful mood, and Isabelle, plucking up courage, threw her arms round
+her father’s neck, and said in the softest tones, “There is no need for
+me to consider or hesitate, my dear lord and father! Since the Baron de
+Sigognac is so happy as to please you, I confess, freely and frankly,
+that I have loved him ever since we first met, and have never wished
+for any other alliance. To obey, you in this will be my highest
+happiness.”
+
+“And now clasp hands, my children, and exchange the kiss of betrothal,”
+cried the Duke of Vallombreuse gaily. “Verily, the romance ends more
+happily than could have been expected after such a stormy beginning.
+And now the next question is, when shall the wedding be?”
+
+“It will take a little time to make due preparation,” said the prince.
+“So many people must be set to work, in order that the marriage of my
+only daughter may be worthily celebrated. Meanwhile, Isabelle, here is
+your dowry, the deed of the estate of Lineuil—from which you derive
+your title, and which yields you an income of fifty thousand crowns per
+annum—together with rent-rolls, and all the various documents
+appertaining thereto”—and he handed a formidable roll of papers to her.
+“As to you, my dear de Sigognac, I have here for you a royal ordinance,
+which constitutes you governor of a province; and no one, I venture to
+say, could be more worthy of this distinguished honour than yourself.”
+
+Vallombreuse, who had gone out of the room while his father was
+speaking, now made his appearance, followed by a servant carrying a box
+covered with crimson velvet.
+
+He took it from the lackey at the door, and advancing, placed it upon
+the table in front of Isabelle.
+
+“My dear little sister,” said he, “will you accept this from me as a
+wedding gift?”
+
+On the cover was inscribed “For Isabelle,” in golden letters, and it
+contained the very casket which the Duke of Vallombreuse had offered at
+Poitiers to the young actress, and which she had so indignantly refused
+to receive, or even look at.
+
+“You will accept it this time?” he pleaded, with a radiant smile; “and
+honour these diamonds of finest water, and these pearls of richest
+lustre, by wearing them, for _my_ sake. They are not more pure and
+beautiful than yourself.”
+
+Isabelle smilingly took up a magnificent necklace and clasped it round
+her fair neck, to show that she harboured no resentment; then put the
+exquisite bracelets on her round, white arms, and decked herself with
+the various superb ornaments that the beautiful casket contained.
+
+And now we have only to add, that a week later Isabelle and de Sigognac
+were united in marriage in the chapel at Vallombreuse, which was
+brilliantly lighted, and filled with fragrance from the profusion of
+flowers that converted it into a very bower. The music was heavenly,
+the fair bride adorably beautiful, with her long white veil floating
+about her, and the Baron de Sigognac radiant with happiness. The
+Marquis de Bruyères was one of his witnesses, and a most brilliant and
+aristocratic assemblage “assisted” at this notable wedding in high
+life. No one, who had not been previously informed of it, could ever
+have suspected that the lovely bride—at once so noble and modest, so
+dignified and graceful, so gentle and refined, yet with as lofty a
+bearing as a princess of the blood royal—had only a short time before
+been one of a band of strolling players, nightly fulfilling her duties
+as an actress. While de Sigognac, governor of a province, captain of
+mousquetaires, superbly dressed, dignified, stately and affable, the
+very beau-ideal of a distinguished young nobleman, had nothing about
+him to recall the poor, shabby, disconsolate youth, almost starving in
+his dreary, half-ruined château, whose misery was described at the
+beginning of this tale.
+
+After a splendid collation, graced by the presence of the bride and
+groom, the happy pair vanished; but we will not attempt to follow them,
+or intrude upon their privacy—turning away at the very threshold of the
+nuptial chamber, singing, in low tones, after the fashion of the
+ancients, “Hymen! oh Hymen!”
+
+The mysteries of such sacred happiness as theirs should be respected;
+and besides, sweet, modest Isabelle would have died of shame if so much
+as a single one of the pins that held her bodice were indiscreetly
+drawn out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+It will be readily believed that our sweet Isabelle had not forgotten,
+in her exceeding happiness as Mme. la Baronne de Sigognac, her former
+companions of Hérode’s troupe. As she could not invite them to her
+wedding because they would have been so much out of place there—she
+had, in commemoration of that auspicious occasion, sent handsome and
+appropriate gifts to them all; offered with a grace so charming that it
+redoubled their value. So long as the company remained in Paris, she
+went often to see them play; applauding her old friends heartily, and
+judiciously as well, knowing just where the applause should be given.
+The young _baronne_ did not attempt to conceal the fact that she had
+formerly been an actress herself—not parading it, but referring to it
+quietly, if necessary, as a matter of course; an excellent method to
+disarm ill-natured tongues, which would surely have wagged vigorously
+had any mystery been made about it. In addition, her illustrious birth
+and exalted position imposed silence upon those around her, and her
+sweet dignity and modesty had soon won all hearts—even those of her own
+sex—until it was universally conceded that there was not a greater or
+truer lady in court circles than the beautiful young Baronne de
+Sigognac.
+
+The king, Louis XIII, having heard Isabelle’s eventful history, praised
+her highly for her virtuous conduct, and evinced great interest in de
+Sigognac, whom he heartily commended for his respectful, honourable
+gallantry, under circumstances that, according to general opinion,
+would authorize all manner of license. His deference to defenceless
+virtue peculiarly pleased the chaste, reserved monarch, who had no
+sympathy with, or indulgence for the wild, unbridled excesses of the
+licentious youth of his capital and court. As to Vallombreuse, he had
+entirely changed and amended his way of life, and seemed to find
+unfailing pleasure and satisfaction, as well as benefit, in the
+companionship of his new friend and brother, to whom he was devoted,
+and who fully reciprocated his warm affection; while the prince, his
+father, joyfully dwelt in the bosom of his reunited family, and found
+in it the happiness he had vainly sought before. The young husband and
+wife led a charming life, more and more in love with and devoted to
+each other, and never experiencing that satiety of bliss which is
+ruinous to the most perfect happiness. Although Isabelle had no
+concealments from her husband, and shared even her inmost thoughts with
+him, yet for a time she seemed very much occupied with some mysterious
+business—apparently exclusively her own.
+
+She had secret conferences with her steward, with an architect, and
+also with certain sculptors and painters—all without de Sigognac’s
+knowledge, and by the connivance of Vallombreuse, who seemed to be her
+confidant, aider and abettor.
+
+One fine morning, several months after their marriage, Isabelle said to
+de Sigognac, as if a sudden thought had struck her: “My dear lord, do
+you never think of your poor, deserted, old château? and have you no
+desire to return to the birthplace of our love?”
+
+“I am not so unfeeling as that, my darling, and I have thought of it
+longingly many times of late. But I did not like to propose the journey
+to you without being sure that it would please you. I did not like to
+tear you away from the delights of the court—of which you are the chief
+ornament—and take you to that poor, old, half-ruined mansion, the haunt
+of rats and owls, where I could not hope to make you even comfortable,
+yet, which I prefer, miserable as it is, to the most luxurious palaces;
+for it was the home of my ancestors, and the place where I first saw
+you, my heart’s delight!—spot ever sacred and dear to me, upon which I
+should like to erect an altar.”
+
+“And I,” rejoined Isabelle, “often wonder whether the eglantine in the
+garden still blooms, as it did for me.”
+
+“It does,” said de Sigognac, “I am sure of it—having once been blessed
+by your touch, it must be always blooming—even though there be none to
+see.”
+
+“Ah! my lord, unlike husbands in general, you are more gallant after
+marriage than before,” Isabelle said, laughingly, yet deeply touched by
+his tender words, “and you pay your wife compliments as if she were
+your ladylove. And now, since I have ascertained that your wishes
+accord with my whim, will it please your lordship to set out for the
+Château de Sigognac this week? The weather is fine. The great heat of
+summer is over, and we can really enjoy the journey. Vallombreuse will
+go with us, and I shall take Chiquita. She will be glad to see her own
+country again.”
+
+The needful preparations were soon made, and the travelling party set
+off in high spirits. The journey was rapid and delightful. Relays of
+horses had been sent on in advance by Vallombreuse, so that in a few
+days they reached the point where the road leading to the Château de
+Sigognac branched off from the great post-road. It was about two
+o’clock of a bright, warm afternoon when the carriage turned off the
+highway, and as they got, at the same moment, their first view of the
+château, de Sigognac could not believe the testimony of his own eyes—he
+was bewildered, dazzled, overwhelmed—he no longer recognised the
+familiar details which had been so deeply impressed upon his memory.
+All was changed, as if by magic. The road, smooth, free from grass and
+weeds, and freshly gravelled, had no more ruts; the hedges, neatly
+trimmed and properly tended, no longer reached out long, straggling
+arms to catch the rare passer-by; the tall trees on either side had
+been carefully pruned, so that their branches met in an arch overhead,
+and framed in a most astonishing picture. Instead of the dreary ruin,
+slowly crumbling into dust, a fine new château rose before
+them—resembling the old one as a son resembles his father. It was an
+exact reproduction—nothing had been changed, only renewed—it was simply
+the ancient mansion rejuvenated. The walls were smooth and unbroken,
+the lofty towers intact, rising proudly at the four angles of the
+building, with their freshly gilded weathercocks gleaming in the
+sunlight. A handsome new roof, tastefully ornamented with a pretty
+design in different coloured slates, had replaced the broken,
+weather-stained tiles, through which the rain used to find its way down
+into the frescoed hall, and the long suite of deserted rooms. Every
+window had bright large panes of clear glass shining in its casement,
+and a magnificent great door, turning smoothly and noiselessly upon its
+huge hinges, had superseded the old, worm-eaten one, that used to groan
+and creak piteously when opened ever so little. Above it shone the de
+Sigognac arms—three golden storks upon an azure field, with this noble
+motto—entirely obliterated of old—“Alta petunt.”
+
+For a few moments de Sigognac gazed at it all in silence, overcome by
+astonishment and emotion. Then he suddenly turned to Isabelle, with
+joyful surprise written in every line of his speaking countenance, and
+seizing her hands passionately, and holding them firmly clasped in his,
+said: “It is to you, my kind, generous fairy, that I owe this
+marvellous transformation of my poor, dilapidated, old château. You
+have touched it with your wand and restored its ancient splendour,
+majesty and youth. I cannot tell you how enchanted, how gratified I am
+by this wonderful surprise. It is unspeakably charming and delightful,
+like everything that emanates from my good angel. Without a word or
+hint from me, you have divined, and carried out, the secret and most
+earnest wish of my heart.”
+
+“You must also thank a certain sorcerer, who has greatly aided me in
+all this,” said Isabelle softly, touched by her husband’s emotion and
+delight, and pointing to Vallombreuse, who was sitting opposite to her.
+The two young men clasped hands for a moment, and smiled at each other
+in friendly fashion. There was a perfect under standing between these
+kindred spirits now, and no words were needed on either side.
+
+By this time the carriage had reached the château, where Pierre, in a
+fine new livery—and a tremor of delight—was waiting to receive them.
+After an affectionate, as well as respectful, greeting from the
+faithful old servant, they entered the grand portico, which had been,
+like all the rest, admirably restored, and, alighting from the
+carriage, paused a moment to admire its magnificent proportions ere
+they passed on into the frescoed hall, where eight or ten tall lackeys
+were drawn up in line, and bowed profoundly to their new master and
+mistress. Skilful artists had retouched the ancient frescoes, and made
+them glow with all their original brilliant tints. The colossal figures
+of Hercules were still supporting the heavy cornice, and the busts of
+the Roman emperors looked out majestically from their niches. Higher
+up, the vine climbing on its trellis was as luxuriant as in the olden
+time, and there were no unsightly stains on the bright blue sky of the
+vaulted roof to mar its beauty. A like metamorphosis had been worked
+everywhere—the worm-eaten woodwork had been renewed, the uneven floors
+relaid, the tarnished gilding restored to its original splendour—and
+the new furniture throughout had been made exactly like the old that it
+replaced. The fine old tapestry in de Sigognac’s own room had been
+minutely copied, down to the smallest detail, and the hangings of the
+bed were of green and white brocade, in precisely the same delicate
+tint and graceful pattern as the old.
+
+Isabelle, with her innate delicacy and perfect taste, had not aimed at
+producing a sensation, by any overwhelming magnificence or dazzling
+splendour in renovating the intrinsically fine old Château de Sigognac,
+but had simply wished to gratify and delight the heart of her husband,
+so tenderly loved, in giving back to him the impressions and
+surroundings of his childhood and youth, robbed of their misery and
+sadness. All was bright and gay now in this lordly mansion, erst so
+dreary and melancholy; even the sombre old family portraits, cleansed,
+retouched and revarnished by skilful hands, smiled down upon them, as
+if pleased with the new order of things; especially their own handsome,
+richly gilt frames.
+
+After looking through the interior of the château, de Sigognac and
+Isabelle went out into the court, where no weeds or nettles were to be
+seen, no grass growing up between the paving stones, no heaps of
+rubbish in the corners, and through the clear glass panes of the
+numerous windows looking into it were visible the folds of the rich
+curtains in the chambers that were formerly the favourite haunt of owls
+and bats. They went on down into the garden, by a noble flight of broad
+stone steps, no longer tottering and moss-grown, and turned first to
+seek the wild eglantine which had offered its delicate little rose to
+the young actress, on the memorable morning when the baron had decided
+to go forth from his ruined castle for love of her. It had another
+dainty blossom ready for her now, which Isabelle received from de
+Sigognac’s hand, with tears, that told of a happiness too deep for
+words, welling up into her eyes, and exchanged with her adored and
+adoring husband a long, fond look, that seemed to give to each a
+glimpse of heaven.
+
+The gardeners had been busy too, and had converted the neglected
+wilderness we made acquaintance with long ago into a veritable little
+paradise. At the end of the well-ordered and exquisitely arranged
+garden, Pomona still stood in her cool grotto, restored to all the
+beauty of her youth, while a stream of pure, sparkling water poured
+from the lion’s mouth, and fell with a musical murmur into the marble
+basin. Even in their best and most glorious days the garden and the
+château had never known greater beauty and luxury than now. The baron,
+ever more and more astonished and enchanted, as he rambled slowly
+through it all, like one in a delicious dream, kept Isabelle’s arm
+pressed tenderly to his heart, and was not ashamed to let her see the
+tears that at last he could no longer restrain, and which came from a
+very full heart.
+
+“Now,” said Isabelle, “that we have seen everything here, we must go
+and inspect the different pieces of property we have been able to buy
+back, so as to reconstruct, as nearly as possible, the ancient barony
+of Sigognac. I will leave you for a few moments, to go and put on my
+riding habit; I shall not be long, for I learned to make changes of
+that sort very rapidly in my old profession, you know. Will you,
+meantime, go and select our horses, and order that they should be made
+ready?”
+
+Vallombreuse accompanied de Sigognac to the stables, where they found
+ten splendid horses contentedly munching their oats in their oaken
+stalls. Everything was in perfect order, but ere the baron had time to
+admire and praise, as he wished to do, a loud whinnying that was almost
+deafening suddenly burst forth, as good old Bayard peremptorily claimed
+his attention. Isabelle had long ago sent orders to the château that
+the superannuated pony should always have the best place in the stable,
+and be tenderly cared for. His manger was full of ground oats, which he
+seemed to be enjoying with great gusto, and he evidently approved
+highly of the new regime. In his stall Miraut lay sleeping, but the
+sound of his master’s voice aroused him, and he joyfully jumped up and
+came to lick his hand, and claim the accustomed caress. As to
+Beelzebub, though he had not yet made his appearance, it must not be
+attributed to a want of affection on his part, but rather to an excess
+of timidity. The poor old cat had been so unsettled and alarmed at the
+invasion of the quiet château by an army of noisy workmen, and all the
+confusion and changes that had followed, that he had fled from his
+usual haunts, and taken up his abode in a remote attic; where he lay in
+concealment, impatiently waiting for darkness to come, so that he might
+venture out to pay his respects to his beloved master.
+
+The baron, after petting Bayard and Miraut until they were in ecstasies
+of delight, chose from among the horses a beautiful, spirited chestnut
+for himself, the duke selected a Spanish jennet, with proudly arched
+neck and flowing mane, which was worthy to carry an Infanta, and an
+exquisite white palfrey, whose skin shone like satin, was brought out
+for the _baronne_. In a few moments Isabelle came down, attired in a
+superb riding habit, which consisted of a dark blue velvet basque,
+richly braided with silver, over a long, ample skirt of silver-gray
+satin, and her broad hat of white felt, like a cavalier’s, was trimmed
+with a floating, dark blue feather. Her beautiful hair was confined in
+the most coquettish little blue and silver net, and as she came
+forward, radiant with smiles, she was a vision of loveliness, that drew
+forth fervent exclamations of delight from her two devoted and adoring
+knights. The Baronne de Sigognac certainly was enchantingly beautiful
+in her rich equestrian costume, which displayed the perfection of her
+slender, well-rounded figure to the greatest advantage, and there was a
+high-bred, dainty look about her which bore silent witness to her
+illustrious origin. She was still the sweet, modest Isabelle of old,
+but she was also the daughter of a mighty prince, the sister of a proud
+young duke, and the honoured wife of a valiant gentleman, whose race
+had been noble since before the crusades. Vallombreuse, remarking it,
+could not forbear to say: “My dearest sister, how magnificent you look
+to-day! Hippolyte, queen of the Amazons, was never more superb, or more
+triumphantly beautiful, than you are in this most becoming costume.”
+
+Isabelle smiled in reply, as she put her pretty little foot into de
+Sigognac’s hand, and sprang lightly into her saddle.
+
+Her husband and brother mounted also, and the little cavalcade set
+forth in high glee, making the vaulted portico ring with their merry
+laughter, as they rode through it. Just in front of the château they
+met the Marquis de Bruyères, and several other gentlemen of the
+neighbourhood, coming to pay their respects. They wished to go back
+into the château and receive their guests properly, saying that they
+could ride out at any time, but the visitors would not listen to such a
+thing, and turning their horses’ heads proposed to ride with them. The
+party, increased by six or eight cavaliers in gala dress—for the
+provincial lordlings had made themselves as fine as possible to do
+honour to their new neighbours—was really very imposing; a cortege
+worthy of a princess. They rode on between broad green fields, through
+woods and groves and highly cultivated farms, all of which had now been
+restored to the estate they had originally belonged to; and the
+grateful, adoring glances that the Baron de Sigognac found opportunity
+to bestow upon his lovely _baronne_, made her heart beat high with a
+happiness almost too perfect for this weary world of trials and
+sorrows.
+
+As they were riding through a little pine wood, near the boundary line
+of the estate, the barking of hounds was heard, and presently the party
+met the beautiful Yolande de Foix, followed by her old uncle, and one
+or two attendant cavaliers. The road was very narrow, and there was
+scarcely room to pass, though each party endeavoured to make way for
+the other. Yolande’s horse was prancing about restively, and the skirt
+of her long riding-habit brushed Isabelle’s as she passed her. She was
+furiously angry, and sorely tempted to address some cutting words to
+the “_Bohémienne_” she had once so cruelly insulted; but Isabelle, who
+had a soul above such petty malice, and had long ago forgiven Yolande
+for her unprovoked insolence, felt how much her own triumph must wound
+the other’s proud spirit, and with perfect dignity and grace bowed to
+Mlle. de Foix, who could not do less than respond by a slight
+inclination of her haughty head, though her heart was filled with rage,
+and she had much ado to control herself. The Baron de Sigognac, with a
+quiet, unembarrassed air, had bowed respectfully to the fair huntress,
+who looked eagerly, but in vain, into the eyes of her former adorer for
+a spark of the old flame that used to blaze up in them at sight of her.
+Angry and disappointed, she gave her horse a sharp cut with the whip,
+and swept away at a gallop.
+
+“Now, by Venus and all the Loves,” said Vallombreuse to the Marquis de
+Bruyères, beside whom he was riding, “that girl is a beauty, but she
+looked deucedly savage and cross. How she did glare at my sister, eh!
+as if she wanted to stab her.”
+
+“When one has long been the acknowledged queen of a neighbourhood,” the
+marquis replied, “it is not pleasant to be dethroned, you know, and
+every one must admit that Mme. la Baronne de Sigognac bears off the
+palm.”
+
+The gay cavalcade, after a long ride, returned to the château, to find
+a sumptuous repast awaiting them in the magnificent banqueting hall,
+where the poor young baron had once supped with the wandering
+comedians, upon their own provisions. What a transformation had been
+effected! now a superb service of silver, bearing the family arms,
+shone upon the fine damask that covered the table, in which also the
+three storks were apparent, while beautiful porcelain and dainty glass,
+lovely flowers and luscious fruits contributed to the attractions of
+the bountifully furnished board. Isabelle sat in the same place she had
+occupied on the eventful night that had changed the destiny of the
+young lord of the château, and she could not but think of, and live
+over, that widely different occasion, as did also the baron, and the
+married lovers exchanged furtive smiles and glances, in which tender
+memories and bright hopes were happily mingled.
+
+Near one of the tall buffets stood a large, fine-looking man with a
+thick black beard, dressed in black velvet, and wearing a massive chain
+of silver round his neck, who kept a watchful eye upon the numerous
+lackeys waiting on the guests, and from time to time gave an order,
+with a most majestic air. Presiding over another buffet, on which were
+neatly arranged numerous wine-bottles of different forms and
+dimensions, was another elderly man, of short, corpulent figure, and
+with a jolly red face, who stepped about actively and lightly, despite
+his age and weight, dispensing the wine to the servants as it was
+needed. At first de Sigognac did not notice them, but chancing to
+glance in their direction, was astonished to recognise in the first the
+tragic Hérode, and in the second the grotesque Blazius. Isabelle,
+seeing that her husband had become aware of their presence, whispered
+to him, that in order to provide for the old age of those two devoted
+and faithful friends she had thought it well to give them superior
+positions in their household; in which they would have only easy duties
+to perform, as they had to direct others in their work, not to do any
+themselves; and the baron heartily approved and commended what his
+sweet young wife, ever considerate for others, had been pleased to do.
+
+Course succeeded to course, and bottle to bottle—there was much
+laughing and talking around the convivial board, and the host was
+exerting himself to do honour to the festive occasion, when he felt a
+head laid on his knee, and a tattoo vigorously played by a pair of paws
+on his leg that was well known to him of old. Miraut and Beelzebub, who
+had slipped into the room, and under the table, without being detected,
+thus announced their presence to their indulgent master. He did not
+repulse them, but managed, without attracting notice, to give them a
+share of everything on his plate, and was especially amused at the
+almost insatiable voracity of the old black cat—who had evidently been
+fasting in his hiding-place in the attic. He actually seemed to enjoy,
+like an epicure, the rich and dainty viands that had replaced the
+frugal fare of long ago, and ate so much that when the meal was over he
+could scarcely stand, and made his way with difficulty into his
+master’s bed-chamber, where he curled himself up in a luxurious
+arm-chair and settled down comfortably for the night.
+
+Vallombreuse kept pace with the Marquis de Bruyères, and the other
+guests, in disposing of the choice wines, that did credit to the
+pedant’s selection; but de Sigognac, who had not lost his temperate
+habits, only touched his lips to the edge of his wine-glass, and made a
+pretence of keeping them company. Isabelle, under pretext of fatigue,
+had withdrawn when the dessert was placed upon the table. She really
+was very tired, and sent at once for Chiquita, now promoted to the
+dignity of first lady’s maid, to come and perform her nightly duties.
+The wild, untutored child had—under Isabelle’s judicious, tender and
+careful training—developed into a quiet, industrious and very beautiful
+young girl. She still wore mourning for Agostino, and around her neck
+was the famous string of pearl beads—it was a sacred treasure to
+Chiquita, and she was never seen without it. She attended to her duties
+quickly and deftly—evidently taking great delight in waiting upon the
+mistress she adored—and kissed her hand passionately, as she never
+failed to do, when all was finished and she bade her good-night.
+
+When, an hour later, de Sigognac entered the room in which he had spent
+so many weary, lonely nights—listening to the wind as it shrieked and
+moaned round the outside of the desolate château, and wailed along the
+corridors-feeling that life was a hard and bitter thing, and fancying
+that it would never bring anything but trials and misery to him—he saw,
+by the subdued light from the shaded lamp, the face to him most
+beautiful in all the world smiling lovingly to greet him from under the
+green and white silken curtains that hung round his own bed, where it
+lay resting upon the pillow he had so often kissed, and moistened with
+his tears. His eyes were moist now—but from excess of happiness, not
+sorrow—as he saw before him the blessed, blissful realization of his
+vision.
+
+Towards morning Beelzebub, who had been excessively uneasy and restless
+all night, managed, with great difficulty, to clamber up on the bed,
+where he rubbed his nose against his master’s hand—trying at the same
+time to purr in the old way, but failing lamentably. The baron woke
+instantly, and saw poor Beelzebub looking at him appealingly, with his
+great green eyes unnaturally dilated, and momentarily growing dim; he
+was trembling violently, and as his master’s kind hand was stretched
+out to stroke his head, fell over on his side, and with one
+half-stifled cry, one convulsive shudder, breathed his last.
+
+“Poor Beelzebub!” softly said Isabelle, who had been roused from her
+sweet slumber by his dying groan, “he has lived through all the misery
+of the old time, but will not be here to share and enjoy the prosperity
+of the new.”
+
+Beelzebub, it must be confessed, fell a victim to his own
+intemperance—a severe fit of indigestion, consequent upon the enormous
+supper he had eaten, was the cause of his death—his long-famished
+stomach was not accustomed to, nor proof against, such excesses. This
+death, even though it was only that of a dumb beast, touched de
+Sigognac deeply; for poor Beelzebub had been his faithful companion,
+night and day, through many long, weary years of sadness and poverty,
+and had always shown the warmest, most devoted affection for him. He
+carefully wrapped the body in a piece of fine, soft cloth, and waited,
+until evening should come, to bury it himself; when he would be safe
+from observation and possible ridicule. Accordingly, after nightfall,
+he took a spade, a lantern, and poor Beelzebub’s body, which was stiff
+and stark by that time, and went down into the garden, where he set to
+work to dig the grave, under the sacred eglantine, in what seemed to
+him like hallowed ground. He wanted to make it deep enough to insure
+its not being disturbed by any roaming beast of prey, and worked away
+diligently, until his spade struck sharply against some hard substance,
+that he at first thought must be a large stone, or piece of rock
+perhaps. He attempted, in various ways, to dislodge it, but all in
+vain, and it gave out such a peculiar, hollow sound at every blow, that
+at last he threw down his spade and took the lantern to see what the
+strange obstacle might be.
+
+He was greatly surprised at finding the corner of a stout oaken chest,
+strengthened with iron bands, much rusted, but still intact. He dug all
+round it, and then, using his spade as a lever, succeeded in raising
+it, though it was very heavy, to the edge of the hole, and sliding it
+out on the grass beside it; then he put poor Beelzebub into the place
+it had occupied, and filled up the grave. He carefully smoothed it
+over, replaced the sod, and when all was finished to his satisfaction,
+went in search of his faithful old Pierre, upon whose discretion and
+secrecy he knew that he could rely. Together they carried the
+mysterious strong box into the château, but not without great
+difficulty and frequent pauses to rest, because of its immense weight.
+Pierre broke open the chest with an axe, and the cover sprang back,
+disclosing to view a mass of gold coins—all ancient, and many of them
+foreign. Upon examination, a quantity of valuable jewelry, set with
+precious stones, was found mingled with the gold, and, under all, a
+piece of parchment, with a huge seal attached, bearing the three storks
+of the de Sigognacs, still in a good state of preservation; but the
+writing was almost entirely obliterated by dampness and mould. The
+signature, however, was still visible, and letter by letter the baron
+spelled it out—“Raymond de Sigognac.” It was the name of one of his
+ancestors, who had gone to serve his king and country in the war then
+raging, and never returned; leaving the mystery of his death, or
+disappearance, unsolved. He had only one child, an infant son, and when
+he left home—in those troublous times—must have buried all his
+treasures for safety, and they had remained undiscovered until this
+late day. Doubtless, he had confided the secret of their whereabouts to
+some trusty friend or retainer, who, perhaps, had died suddenly before
+he could disclose it to the rightful heir. From the time of that
+Raymond began the decadence of the de Sigognacs, who, previous to that
+epoch, had always been wealthy and powerful.
+
+Of course, the mystery about this treasure—so strangely brought to
+light—could never be cleared up now; but one thing was certain, beyond
+a question or a doubt, that the strong box and its contents belonged of
+right to the present Baron de Sigognac—the only living representative
+of the family. His first move was to seek his generous, devoted wife,
+so that he might show her the mysterious treasure he had found, and
+claim her sweet sympathy in his joy, which would be incomplete without
+it. After relating to her all the surprising incidents of the evening,
+he finished by saying, “Decidedly, Beelzebub was the good genius of the
+de Sigognacs—through his means I have become rich—and now that my
+blessed angel has come to me he has taken his departure; for there is
+nothing else left for him to do, since you, my love, have given me
+perfect happiness.”
+
+
+
+
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