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In two minutes, if +Lampron is not late-- + +Rat-a-tat-tat! + +"Come in." + +"It is twelve o'clock, my friend; are you coming?" + +It was Lampron. + +For the last hour I had had my hat on my head, my stick between my legs, +and had been turning over my essay with gloved hands. He laughed at me. +I don't care. We walked, for the day was clear and warm. All the world +was out and about. Who can stay indoors on May Day? As we neared the +Chamber of Deputies, perambulators full of babies in white capes came +pouring from all the neighboring streets, and made their resplendent way +toward the Tuileries. Lampron was in a talkative mood. He was pleased +with the hanging of his pictures, and his plan of compaign against +Mademoiselle Jeanne. + +"She is sure to have heard of it, Fabien, and perhaps is there already. +Who can tell?" + +"Oh, cease your humbug! Yes, very possibly she is there before us. I +have had a feeling that she would be for these last four days." + +"You don't say so!" + +"I have pictured her a score of times ascending the staircase on her +father's arm. We are at the foot, lost in the crowd. Her noble, clear- +cut profile stands out against the Gobelin tapestries which frame it with +their embroidered flowers; one would say some maiden of bygone days had +come to life, and stepped down from her tapestried panel." + +"Gentlemen!" said Lampron, with a sweep of his arm which took in the +whole of the Place de la Concorde, "allow me to present to you the +intending successor of Counsellor Mouillard, lawyer, of Bourges. Every +inch of him a man of business!" + +We were getting near. Crowds were on their way to the exhibition from +all sides, women in spring frocks, many of the men in white waistcoats, +one hand in pocket, gayly flourishing their canes with the other, as much +as to say, "Look at me-well-to-do, jaunty, and out in fine weather." The +turnstiles were crowded, but at last we got through. We made but one +step across the gravel court, the realm of sculpture where antique gods +in every posture formed a mythological circle round the modern busts in +the central walk. There was no loitering here, for my heart was +elsewhere. We cast a look at an old wounded Gaul, an ancestor unhonored +by the crowd, and started up the staircase--no Jeanne to lead the way. +We came to the first room of paintings. Sylvestre beamed like a man who +feels at home. + +"Quick, Sylvestre, where is the sketch? Let's hurry to it." + +But he dragged me with him around several rooms. + +Have you ever experienced the intoxication of color which seizes the +uninitiated at the door of a picture-gallery? So many staring hues +impinge upon the eyes, so many ideas take confused shape and struggle +together in the brain, that the eyes grow weary and the brain harassed. +It hovers undecided like an insect in a meadow full of flowers. The +buzzing remarks of the crowd add to the feeling of intoxication. They +distract one's attention before it can settle anywhere, and carry it off +to where some group is gathered before a great name, a costly frame, an +enormous canvas, or an outrage on taste; twenty men on a gallows against +a yellow sky, with twenty crows hovering over them, or an aged +antediluvian, some mighty hunter, completely nude and with no property +beyond a loaded club. One turns away, and the struggle begins again +between the eye, attracted by a hundred subjects, and the brain, which +would prefer to study one. + +With Lampron this danger has no existence; he takes in a room at a +glance. He has the sportsman's eye which, in a covey of partridges, +marks its bird at a glance. He never hesitates. "That is the thing to +make for," he says, "come along"--and we make for it. He plants himself +right in front of the picture, with both hands in his overcoat pockets, +and his chin sunk in his collar; says nothing, but is quite happy +developing an idea which has occurred to him on his way to it; comparing +the picture before him with some former work by the same artist which he +remembers. His whole soul is concentrated on the picture. And when he +considers that I have understood and penetrated the meaning of the work, +he gives his opinion in few words, but always the right ones, summing up +a long sequence of ideas which I must have shared with him, since I see +exactly as he does. + +In this way we halted before the "Martyrdom of Saint Denis," by Bonnat, +the two "Adorations," by Bouguereau, a landscape of Bernier's, some other +landscapes, sea pieces, and portraits. + +At last we left the oil paintings. + +In the open gallery, which runs around the inside of the huge oblong and +looks on the court, the watercolors, engravings, and drawings slumbered, +neglected. Lampron went straight to his works. I should have awarded +them the medaille d'honneur; an etching of a man's head, a large +engraving of the Virgin and Infant Jesus from the Salon Carre at the +Louvre, and the drawing which represents-- + +"Great Heavens! Sylvestre, she's perfectly lovely; she will make a great +mistake if she does not come and see herself!" + +"She will come, my dear sir; but I shall not be there to see her." + +"Are you going?" + +"I leave you to stalk your game; be patient, and do not forget to come +and tell me the news this evening." + +"I promise." + +And Lampron vanished. + +The drawing was hung about midway between two doorways draped with +curtains, that opened into the big galleries. I leaned against the +woodwork of one of them, and waited. On my left stretched a solitude +seldom troubled by the few visitors who risk themselves in the realms of +pen and pencil. These, too, only came to get fresh air, or to look down +on the many-colored crowd moving among the white statues below. + +At my right, on the contrary, the battling currents of the crowd kept +passing and repassing, the provincial element easily distinguished by its +jaded demeanor. Stout, exhausted matrons, breathless fathers of +families, crowded the sofas, raising discouraged glances to the walls, +while around them turned and tripped, untiring as at a dance, legions of +Parisiennes, at ease, on their high heels, equally attentive to the +pictures, their own carriage, and their neighbors' gowns. + +O peaceful functionaries, you whose business it is to keep an eye upon +this ferment! unless the ceaseless flux of these human phenomena lull +you to a trance, what a quantity of silly speeches you must hear! I +picked up twenty in as many minutes. + +Suddenly there came a sound of little footsteps in the gallery. Two +little girls had just come in, two sisters, doubtless, for both had the +same black eyes, pink dresses, and white feathers in their hats. +Hesitating, with outstretched necks, like fawns on the border of a glade, +they seemed disappointed at the unexpected length of the gallery. They +looked at each other and whispered. Then both smiled, and turning their +backs on each other, they set off, one to the right, the other to the +left, to examine the drawings which covered the walls. They made a rapid +examination, with which art had obviously little to do; they were looking +for something, and I thought it might be for Jeanne's portrait. And so +it turned out; the one on my side soon came to a stop, pointed a finger +to the wall, and gave a little cry. The other ran up; they clapped their +hands. + +Bravo, bravo!" + +Then off they went again through the farther door. + +I guessed what they were about to do. + +I trembled from head to foot, and hid myself farther behind the curtains. + +Not a minute elapsed before they were back, not two this time, but three, +and the third was Jeanne, whom they were pulling along between them. + +They brought her up to Lampron's sketch, and curtsied neatly to her. + +Jeanne bent down, smiled, and seemed pleased. Then, a doubt seizing her, +she turned her head and saw me. The smile died away; she blushed, a tear +seemed ready to start to her eyes. Oh, rapture! Jeanne, you are +touched; Jeanne, you understand! + +A deep joy surged across my soul, so deep that I never have felt its +like. + +Alas! at that instant some one called, "Jeanne!" + +She stood up, took the two little girls by the hand, and was gone. + +Far better had it been had I too fled, carrying with me that dream of +delight! + +But no, I leaned forward to look after them. In the doorway beyond I saw +M. Charnot. A young man was with him, who spoke to Jeanne. She answered +him. Three words reached me: + +"It's nothing, George." + +The devil! She loves another! + + + May 2d. + +In what a state of mind did I set out this morning to face my examiners! +Downhearted, worn out by a night of misery, indifferent to all that might +befall me, whether for good or for evil. + +I considered myself, and indeed I was, very wretched, but I never thought +that I should return more wretched than I went. + +It was lovely weather when at half past eleven I started for the Law +School with an annotated copy of my essay under my arm, thinking more of +the regrets for the past and plans for the future with which I had +wrestled all night, than of the ordeal I was about to undergo. I met in +the Luxembourg the little girl whom I had kissed the week before. She +stopped her hoop and stood in my way, staring with wideopen eyes and a +coaxing, cunning look, which meant, "I know you, I do!" I passed by +without noticing. She pouted her lip, and I saw that she was thinking, +"What's the matter with him?" + +What was the matter? My poor little golden-locks, when you are grown a +fair woman I trust you may know as little of it as you do to-day. + +I went up the Rue Soufliot, and entered the stuffy courtyard on the +stroke of noon. + +The morning lectures were over. Beneath the arcades a few scattered +students were walking up and down. I avoided them for fear of meeting a +friend and having to talk. Several professors came running from their +lunch, rather red in the face, at the summons of the secretary. These +were my examiners. + +It was time to get into costume, for the candidate, like the criminal, +has his costume. The old usher, who has dressed me up I don't know how +many times in his hired gowns, saw that I was downcast, and thought I +must be suffering from examination fever, a peculiar malady, which is +like what a young soldier feels the first time he is under fire. + +We were alone in the dark robing-room; he walked round me, brushing and +encouraging me; doctors of law have a moral right to this touch of the +brush. + +"It will be all right, Monsieur Mouillard, never fear. No one has been +refused a degree this morning." + +"I am not afraid, Michu." + +"When I say 'no one,' there was one refused--you never heard the like. +Just imagine--a little to the right, please, Monsieur Mouillard--imagine, +I say, a candidate who knew absolutely nothing. That is nothing +extraordinary. But this fellow, after the examination was over, +recommended himself to mercy. 'Have compassion on me, gentlemen,' he +said, 'I only wish to be a magistrate!' Capital, isn't it?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"You don't seem to think so. You don't look like laughing this morning." + +"No, Michu, every one has his bothers, you know." + +"I said to myself as I looked at you just now, Monsieur Mouillard has +some bother. Button up all the way, if you please, for a doctor's essay; +if-you-please. It's a heartache, then?" + +"Something of the kind." + +He shrugged his shoulders and went before me, struggling with an +asthmatic chuckle, until we came to the room set apart for the +examination. + +It was the smallest and darkest of all, and borrowed its light from a +street which had little enough to spare, and spared as little as it +could. On the left against the wall is a raised desk for the candidate. +At the end, on a platform before a bookcase, sit the six examiners in red +robes, capes with three bands of ermine, and gold-laced caps. Between +the candidate's desk and the door is a little enclosure for spectators, +of whom there were about thirty when I entered. + +My performance, which had a chance of being brilliant, was only fair. + +The three first examiners had read my essay, especially M. Flamaran, who +knew it well and had enjoyed its novel and audacious propositions. He +pursed up his mouth preparatory to putting the first question, like an +epicure sucking a ripe fruit. And when at length he opened it, amid the +general silence, it was to carry the discussion at once up to such +heights of abstraction that a good number of the audience, not +understanding a word of it, stealthily made for the door. + +Each successive answer put fresh spirit into him. + +"Very good," he murmured, "very good; let us carry it a step farther. +Now supposing " + +And, the demon of logic at his heels, we both went off like inspired +lunatics into a world of hypotheses where never man had set foot. He was +examining no longer, he was inventing and intoxicating himself with +deductions. No one was right or wrong. We were reasoning about +chimeras, he radiant, I cool, before his gently tickled colleagues. I +never realized till then what imagination a jurist's head could contain. + +Perspiring freely, he set down a white mark, having exceeded by ten +minutes the recognized time for examination. + +The second examiner was less enthusiastic. He made very few +suppositions, and devoted all his art to convicting me of a contradiction +between page seventeen and page seventy-nine. He kept repeating, "It's a +serious matter, sir, very serious." But, nevertheless, he bestowed a +second white mark on me. I only got half white from the third. The rest +of the examination was taken up in matters extraneous to the subject of +my essay, a commonplace trial of strength, in which I replied with +threadbare arguments to outworn objections. + +And then it ended. Two hours had passed. + +I left the room while the examiners made up their minds. + +A few friends came up to me. + +"Congratulations, old man, I bet on six whites." + +"Hallo, Larive! I never noticed you." + +"I quite believe you; you didn't notice anybody, you still look +bewildered. Is it the emotion inseparable from--" + +"I dare say." + +"The candidate is requested to return to the examination room!" said the +usher. + +And old Michu added, in a whisper, "You have passed. I told you so. You +won't forget old Michu, sir." + +M. Flamaran conferred my degree with a paternal smile, and a few kind +words for "this conscientious study, full of fresh ideas on a difficult +subject." + +I bowed to the examiners. Larive was waiting for me in the courtyard, +and seized me by the arm. + +"Uncle Mouillard will be pleased." + +"I suppose so." + +"Better pleased than you." + +"That's very likely." + +"He might easily be that. Upon my word I can't understand you. These +two years you have been working like a gang of niggers for your degree, +and now you have got it you don't seem to care a bit. You have won a +smile from Flamaran and do not consider yourself a spoiled child of +Fortune! What more did you want? Did you expect that Mademoiselle +Charnot would come in person--" + +"Look here, Larive--" + +"To look on at your examination, and applaud your answers with her neatly +gloved hands? Surely you know, my dear fellow, that that is no longer +possible, and that she is going to be married." + +"Going to be married?" + +"Don't pretend you didn't know it." + +"I have suspected as much since yesterday; I met her at the Salon, and +saw a young man with her." + +"Fair?" + +"Yes." + +"Tall?" + +"Rather." + +"Good-looking?" + +"H'm--well" + +"Dufilleul, old chap, friend Dufilleul. Don't you know Dufilleul?" + +"No." + +"Oh, yes you do--a bit of a stockjobber, great at ecarte, studied law in +our year, and is always to be seen at the Opera with little Tigra of the +Bouffes." + +"Poor girl!" + +"You pity her?" + +"It's too awful." + +"What is?" + +"To see an unhappy child married to a rake who--" + +"She will not be the first." + +"A gambler!" + +"Yes, there is that, to be sure." + +"A fool, as it seems, who, in exchange for her beauty, grace, and youth, +can offer only an assortment of damaged goods! Yes, I do pity girls +duped thus, deceived and sacrificed by the very purity that makes them +believe in that of others." + +"You've some queer notions! It's the way of the world. If the innocent +victims were only to marry males of equal innocence, under the +guardianship of virtuous parents, the days of this world would be +numbered, my boy. I assure you that Dufilleul is a good match, handsome +for one thing--" + +"That's worth a deal!" + +"Rich." + +"The deuce he is!" + +"And then a name which can be divided." + +"Divided?" + +"With all the ease in the world. A very rare quality. At his marriage +he describes himself as Monsieur du Filleul. A year later he is Baron du +Filleul. At the death of his father, an old cad, he becomes Comte du +Filleul. If the young wife is pretty and knows how to cajole her +husband, she may even become a marquise." + +"Ugh!" + +"You are out of spirits, my poor fellow; I will stand you an absinthe, +the only beverage that will suit the bitterness of your heart." + +"No, I shall go home." + +"Good-by, then. You don't take your degree cheerfully." + +"Good-by." + +He spun round on his heels and went down the Boulevard St. Michel. + +So all is over forever between her and me, and, saddest of all, she is +even more to be pitied than I. Poor girl! I loved her deeply, but I did +it awkwardly, as I do everything, and missed my chance of speaking. The +mute declaration which I risked, or rather which a friend risked for me, +found her already engaged to this beast who has brought more skill to the +task, who has made no blots at the National Library, who has dared all +when he had everything to fear-- + +I have allowed myself to be taken by her maiden witchery. All the fault, +all the folly is mine. She has given me no encouragement, no sign of +liking me. If she smiled at St. Germain it was because she was surprised +and flattered. If she came near to tears at the Salon it was because she +pitied me. I have not the shadow of a reproach to make her. + +That is all I shall ever get from her--a tear, a smile. That's all; +never mind, I shall contrive to live on it. She has been my first love, +and I shall keep her a place in my heart from which no other shall drive +her. I shall now set to work to shut this poor heart which did so wrong +to open.... I thought to be happy to-night, and I am full of sorrow. +Henceforward I think I shall understand Sylvestre better. Our sorrows +will bring us nearer. I will go to see him at once, and will tell him +so. + +But first I must write to my uncle to tell him that his nephew is a +Doctor of Law. All the rest, my plans, my whole future can be put off +till to-morrow, or the day after, unless I get disgusted at the very +thought of a future and decide to conjugate my life in the present +indicative only. That is what I feel inclined to do. + + + May 4th. + +Lampron has gone to the country to pass a fortnight in an out-of-the-way +place with an old relative, where he goes into hiding when he wishes to +finish an engraving. + +But Madame Lampron was at home. After a little hesitation I told her +all, and I am glad I did so. She found in her simple, womanly heart just +the counsel that I needed. One feels that she is used to giving +consolation. She possesses the secret of that feminine deftness which is +the great set-off to feminine weakness. Weak? Yes, women perhaps are +weak, yet less weak than we, the strong sex, for they can raise us to our +feet. She called me, "My dear Monsieur Fabien," and there was balm in +the very way she said the words. I used to think she wanted refinement; +she does not, she only lacks reading, and lack of reading may go with the +most delicate and lofty feelings. No one ever taught her certain turns +of expression which she used. "If your mother was alive," said she, +"this is what she would say." And then she spoke to me of God, who alone +can determinate man's trials, either by the end He ordains, or the +resignation He inspires. I felt myself carried with her into the regions +where our sorrows shrink into insignificance as the horizon broadens +around them. And I remember she uttered this fine thought, "See how my +son has suffered! It makes one believe, Monsieur Fabien, that the elect +of the earth are the hardest tried, just as the stones that crown the +building are more deeply cut than their fellows." + +I returned from Madame Lampron's, softened, calmer, wiser. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A VISIT FROM MY UNCLE + + May 5th. + +A letter from M. Mouillard breathing fire and fury. Were I not so low +spirited I could laugh at it. + +He would have liked me, after taking my degree at two in the afternoon, +to take the train for Bourges the same evening, where my uncle, his +practice, and provincial bliss awaited me. M. Mouillard's friends had +had due notice, and would have come to meet me at the station. In short, +I am an ungrateful wretch. At least I might have fixed the hour of my +imminent arrival, for I can not want to stop in Paris with nothing there +to detain me. But no, not a sign, not a word of returning; simply the +announcement that I have passed. This goes beyond the bounds of mere +folly and carelessness. M. Mouillard, his most elementary notions of +life shaken to their foundations, concludes in these words: + + "Fabien, I have long suspected it; some creature has you in bondage. + I am coming to break the bonds! + "BRUTUS MOUILLARD." + +I know him well; he will be here tomorrow. + + May 6th. +No uncle as yet. + + May 7th. +No more uncle than yesterday. + + May 8th. +Total eclipse continues. No news of M. Mouillard. This is very strange. + + + May 9th. +This evening at seven o'clock, just as I was going out to dine, I saw, a +few yards away, a tall, broad-brimmed hat surmounting a head of lank +white hair, a long neck throttled in a white neckcloth, a frock-coat +flapping about a pair of attenuated legs. I lifted up my voice: + +"Uncle!" + +He opened his arms to me and I fell into them. His first remark was: + +"I trust at least that you have not yet dined." + +"No, uncle." + +"To Foyot's, then!" + +When you expect to meet a man in his wrath and get an invitation to +dinner, you feel almost as if you had been taken in. You are heated, +your arguments are at your fingers' ends, your stock of petulance is +ready for immediate use; and all have to be stored in bond. + +When I had recovered from my surprise, I said: + +"I expected you sooner, from your letter." + +"Your suppositions were correct. I have been two days here, at the Grand +Hotel. I went there on account of the dining-room, for my friend +Hublette (you remember Hublette at Bourges) told me: 'Mouillard, you must +see that room before you retire from business.'" + +"I should have gone to see you there, uncle, if I had known it." + +"You would not have found me. Business before pleasure, Fabien. I had +to see three barristers and five solicitors. You know that business of +that kind can not wait. I saw them. Business over, I can indulge my +feelings. Here I am. Does Foyot suit you?" + +"Certainly, uncle." + +"Come on, then nephew, quick, march! Paris, makes one feel quite young +again!" + +And really Uncle Mouillard did look quite young, almost as young as he +looked provincial. His tall figure, and the countrified cut of his coat, +made all who passed him turn to stare, accustomed as Parisians are to +curiosities. He tapped the wood pavement with his stick, admired the +effects of Wallace's philanthropy, stopped before the enamelled street- +signs, and grew enthusiastic over the traffic in the Rue de Vaugirard. + +The dinner was capital--just the kind a generous uncle will give to a +blameless nephew. M. Mouillard, who has a long standing affection for +chambertin, ordered two bottles to begin with. He drank the whole of one +and half of the other, eating in proportion, and talked unceasingly and +positively at the top of his voice, as his wont was. He told me the +story of two of his best actions this year, a judicial separation--my +uncle is very strong in judicial separations--and the abduction of a +minor. At first I looked out for personal allusions. But no, he told +the story from pure love of his art, without omitting an interlocutory +judgment, or a judgment reserved, just as he would have told the story of +Helen and Paris, if he had been employed in that well-known case. Not a +word about myself. I waited, yet nothing came but the successive steps +in the action. + +After the ice, M. Mouillard called for a cigar. + +"Waiter, what cigars have you got?" + +"Londres, conchas, regalias, cacadores, partagas, esceptionales. Which +would you like, sir?" + +"Damn the name! a big one that will take some time to smoke." + +Emile displayed at the bottom of a box an object closely resembling a +distaff with a straw through the middle, doubtless some relic of the last +International Exhibition, abandoned by all, like the Great Eastern, on +account of its dimensions. My uncle seized it, stuck it in the amber +mouthpiece that is so familiar to me, lighted it, and under the pretext +that you must always first get the tobacco to burn evenly, went out +trailing behind him a cloud of smoke, like a gunboat at full speed. + +We "did" the arcades round the Odeon, where my uncle spent an eternity +thumbing the books for sale. He took them all up one after another, from +the poetry of the decedents to the Veterinary Manual, gave a glance at +the author's name, shrugged his shoulders, and always ended by turning to +me with: + +"You know that writer?" + +"Why, yes, uncle." + +"He must be quite a new author; I can't recall that name." + +M. Mouillard forgot that it was forty-five years since he had last +visited the bookstalls under the Odeon. + +He thought he was a student again, loafing along the arcades after +dinner, eager for novelty, careless of draughts. Little by little he +lost himself in dim reveries. His cigar never left his lips. The ash +grew longer and longer yet, a lovely white ash, slightly swollen at the +tip, dotted with little black specks, and connected with the cigar by a +thin red band which alternately glowed and faded as he drew his breath. + +M. Mouillard was so lost in thought, and the ash was getting so long, +that a young student--of the age that knows no mercy-was struck by these +twin phenomena. I saw him nudge a friend, hastily roll a cigarette, and, +doffing his hat, accost my uncle. + +"Might I trouble you for a light, sir!" + +M. Mouillard emitted a sigh, turned slowly round, and bent two terrible +eyes upon the intruder, knocked off the ash with an angry gesture, and +held out the ignited end at arm's length. + +"With pleasure, sir!" + +Then he replaced the last book he had taken up--a copy of Musset--and +called me. + +"Come, Fabien." + +Arm in arm we strolled up the Rue de Medicis along the railings of the +Luxembourg. + +I felt the crisis approaching. My uncle has a pet saying: "When a thing +is not clear to me, I go straight to the heart of it like a ferret." + +The ferret began to work. + +"Now, Fabien, about these bonds I mentioned? Did I guess right?" + +"Yes, uncle, I have been in bondage." + +"Quite right to make a clean breast of it, my boy; but we must break your +bonds." + +"They are broken." + +"How long ago?" + +"Some days ago." + +"On your honor?" + +"Yes." + +"That's quite right. You'd have done better to keep out of bondage. But +there, you took your uncle's advice; you saw the abyss, and drew back +from it. Quite right of you." + +"Uncle, I will not deceive you. Your letter arrived after the event. +The cause of the rupture was quite apart from that." + +"And the cause was?" + +"The sudden shattering of my illusions." + +"Men still have illusions about these creatures?" + +"She was a perfect creature, and worthy of all respect." + +"Come, come!" + +"I must ask you to believe me. I thought her affections free." + +"And she was--" + +"Betrothed." + +"Really now, that's very funny!" + +"I did not find it funny, uncle. I suffered bitterly, I assure you." + +"I dare say, I dare say. The illusions you spoke of anyhow, it's all +over now?" + +"Quite over." + +"Well, that being the case, Fabien, I am ready to help you. Confess +frankly to me. How much is required?" + +"How much?" + +"Yes, you want something, I dare say, to close the incident. You know +what I mean, eh? to purchase what I might call the veil of oblivion. +How much?" + +"Why, nothing at all, uncle." + +"Don't be afraid, Fabien; I've got the money with me." + +"You have quite mistaken the case, uncle; there is no question of money. +I must tell you again that the young lady is of the highest +respectability." + +My uncle stared. + +"I assure you, uncle. I am speaking of Mademoiselle Jeanne Charnot." + +"I dare say." + +"The daughter of a member of the Institute." + +"What!" + +My uncle gave a jump and stood still. + +"Yes, of Mademoiselle Charnot, whom I was in love with and wished to +marry. Do you understand?" + +He leaned against the railing and folded his arms. + +"Marry! Well, I never! A woman you wanted to marry?" + +"Why, yes; what's the matter?" + +"To marry! How could I have imagined such a thing? Here were matters of +the utmost importance going on, and I knew nothing about them. Marry! +You might be announcing your betrothal to me at this moment if you'd- +Still you are quite sure she is betrothed?" + +"Larive told me so." + +"Who's Larive?" + +"A friend of mine." + +"Oh, so you have only heard it through a friend?" + +"Yes, uncle. Do you really think there may still be hope, that I still +have a chance?" + +"No, no; not the slightest. She is sure to be betrothed, very much +betrothed. I tell you I am glad she is. The Mouillards do not come to +Paris for their wives, Fabien--we do not want a Parisienne to carry on +the traditions of the family, and the practice. A Parisienne! I shudder +at the thought of it. Fabien, you will leave Paris with me to-morrow. +That's understood." + +"Certainly not, uncle." + +"Your reasons?" + +"Because I can not leave my friends without saying goodby, and because I +have need to reflect before definitely binding myself to the legal +profession." + +"To reflect! You want to reflect before taking over a family practice, +which has been destined for you since you were an infant, in view of +which you have been working for five years, and which I have nursed for +you, I, your uncle, as if you had been my son?" + +"Yes, uncle." + +"Don't be a fool! You can reflect at Bourges quite as well as here. +Your object in staying here is to see her again." + +"It is not." + +"To wander like a troubled spirit up and down her street. By the way, +which is her street?" + +"Rue de l'Universite." + +My uncle took out his pocketbook and made a note, "Charnot, Rue de +l'Universite." Then all his features expanded. He gave a snort, which I +understood, for I had often heard it in court at Bourges, where it meant, +"There is no escape now. Old Mouillard has cornered his man." + +My uncle replaced his pencil in its case, and his notebook in his pocket, +and merely added: + +"Fabien, you're not yourself to-night. We'll talk of the matter another +time. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." He was counting on his +fingers. "These return tickets are very convenient; I need not leave +before to-morrow evening. And, what's more, you'll go with me, my boy." + +M. Mouillard talked only on indifferent subjects during our brief walk +from the Rue Soufflot to catch the omnibus at the Odeon. There he shook +me by the hand and sprang nimbly into the first bus. A lady in black, +with veil tightly drawn over a little turned up nose, seeing my uncle +burst in like a bomb, and make for the seat beside her, hurriedly drew in +the folds of her dress, which were spread over the seat. My uncle +noticed her action, and, fearing he had been rude, bent over toward her +with an affable expression. "Do not disturb yourself, Madame. I am not +going all the way to Batignolles; no farther, indeed, than the +Boulevards. I shall inconvenience you for a few moments only, a very few +moments, Madame." I had time to remark that the lady, after giving her +neighbor a glance of Juno-like disdain, turned her back upon him, and +proceeded to study the straps hanging from the roof. + +The brake was taken off, the conductor whistled, the three horses, their +hoofs hammering the pavement, strained for an instant amid showers of +sparks, and the long vehicle vanished down the Rue de Vaugirard, bearing +with it Brutus and his fortunes. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A FAMILY BREACH + +May 10th. + +It is an awful fate to be the nephew of M. Mouillard! I always knew he +was obstinate, capable alike of guile and daring, but I little imagined +what his intentions were when he left me! + +My refusal to start, and my prayer for a respite before embarking in his +practice, drove him wild. He lost his head, and swore to drag me off, +'per fas et nefas'. He has mentally begun a new action--Mouillard v. +Mouillard, and is already tackling the brief; which is as much as to say +that he is fierce, unbridled, heartless, and without remorse. + +Some might have bent. I preferred to break. + +We are strangers for life. I have just seen him to the landing of my +staircase. + +He came here about a quarter of an hour ago, proud, and, I may say, +swaggering, as he does over his learned friends when he has found a flaw +in one of their pleadings. + +"Well, nephew?" + +"Well, uncle?" + +"I've got some news for you." + +"Indeed?" + +M. Mouillard banged his hat down furiously upon my table. + +"Yes, you know my maxim: when anything does not seem quite clear to me--" + +"You ferret it out." + +"Quite so; I have always found it answer. Your business did not seem +clear to me. Was Mademoiselle Charnot betrothed, or was she not? To +what extent had she encouraged your attentions? You never would have +told me the story correctly, and I never should have known. That being +so, I put my maxim into practice, and went to see her father." + +"You did that?" + +"Certainly I did." + +"You have been to see Monsieur Charnot?" + +"In the Rue de l'Universite. Wasn't it the simplest thing to do? +Besides, I was not sorry to make the acquaintance of a member of the +Institute. And I must admit that he behaved very nicely to me--not a bit +stuck up." + +"And you told him?" + +"My name to begin with: Brutus Mouillard. He reflected a bit, just a +moment, and recalled your appearance: a shy youth, a bachelor of arts, +wearing an eyeglass." + +"Was that all his description?" + +"Yes, he remembered seeing you at the National Library, and once at his +house. I said to him, 'That is my nephew, Monsieur Charnot.' He replied, +'I congratulate you, sir; he seems a youth of parts.'--'That he is, but +his heart is very inflammable.'--'At his age, sir, who is not liable to +take fire?' That was how we began. Your friend Monsieur Charnot has a +pretty wit. I did not want to be behindhand with him, so I answered, +'Well, sir, it caught fire in your house.' He started with fright and +looked all round the room. I was vastly amused. Then we came to +explanations. I put the case before him, that you were in love with his +daughter, without my consent, but with perfectly honorable intentions; +that I had guessed it from your letters, from your unpardonable neglect +of your duties to your family, and that I hurried hither from Bourges to +take in the situation. With that I concluded, and waited for him to +develop. There are occasions when you must let people develop. I could +not jump down his throat with, 'Sir, would you kindly tell me whether +your daughter is betrothed or not?' You follow me? He thought, no +doubt, I had come to ask for his daughter's hand, and passing one hand +over his forehead, he replied, 'Sir, I feel greatly flattered by your +proposal, and I should certainly give it my serious attention, were it +not that my daughter's hand is already sought by the son of an old +schoolfellow of mine, which circumstance, as you will readily understand, +does not permit of my entertaining an offer which otherwise should have +received the most mature consideration.' I had learned what I came for +without risking anything. Well, I didn't conceal from him that, so far +as I was concerned, I would rather you took your wife from the country +than that you brought home the most charming Parisienne; and that the +Mouillards from father to son had always taken their wives from Bourges. +He entered perfectly into my sentiments, and we parted the best of +friends. Now, my boy, the facts are ascertained: Mademoiselle Charnot is +another's; you must get your mourning over and start with me to-night. +To-morrow morning we shall be in Bourges, and you'll soon be laughing +over your Parisian delusions, I warrant you!" + +I had heard my uncle out without interrupting him, though wrath, +astonishment, and my habitual respect for M. Mouillard were struggling +for the mastery within me. I needed all my strength of mind to answer, +with apparent calm. + +"Yesterday, uncle, I had not made up my mind; today I have." + +"You are coming?" + +"I am not. Your action in this matter, uncle--I do not know if you are +aware of it--has been perfectly unheard-of. I can not acknowledge your +right to act thus. It puts between you and me two hundred miles of rail, +and that forever. Do you understand me? You have taken the liberty of +disclosing a secret which was not yours to tell; you have revealed a +passion which, as it was hopeless, should not have been further +mentioned, and certainly not exposed to such humiliation. You went to +see Monsieur Charnot without reflecting whether you were not bringing +trouble into his household; without reflecting, further, whether such +conduct as yours, which may perhaps be usual among your business +acquaintances, was likely to succeed with me. Perhaps you thought it +would. You have merely completed an experiment, begun long ago, which +proves that we do not understand life in the same way, and that it will +be better for both of us if I continue to live in Paris, and you continue +to live at Bourges." + +"Ha! that's how you take it, young man, is it? You refuse to come? you +try to bully me?" + +"Yes." + +"Consider carefully before you let me leave here alone. You know the +amount of your fortune--fourteen hundred francs a year, which means +poverty in Paris." + +"Yes, I do." + +"Well, then, attend to what I am about to say. For years past I have +been saving my practice for you--that is, an honorable and lucrative +position all ready for you to step into. But I am tired at length of +your fads and your fancies. If you do not take up your quarters at +Bourges within a fortnight from now, the Mouillard practice will change +its name within three weeks!" My uncle sniffed with emotion as he looked +at me, expecting to see me totter beneath his threats. I made no answer +for a moment; but a thought which had been harassing me from the +beginning of our interview compelled me to say: + +"I have only one thing to ask you, Monsieur Mouillard." + +"Further respite, I suppose? Time to reflect and fool me again? No, a +hundred times no! I've had enough of you; a fortnight, not a day more!" + +"No, sir; I do not ask for respite." + +"So much the better, for I should refuse it. What do you want?" + +"Monsieur Mouillard, I trust that Jeanne was not present at the +interview, that she heard none of it, that she was not forced to blush--" + +My uncle sprang to his feet, seized his gloves, which lay spread out on +the table, bundled them up, flung them passionately into his hat, clapped +the whole on his head, and made for the door with angry strides. + +I followed him; he never looked back, never made answer to my "Good-by, +uncle." But, at the sixth step, just before turning the corner, he +raised his stick, gave the banisters a blow fit to break them, and went +on his way downstairs exclaiming: + +"Damnation!" + + + May 20th. + +And so we have parted with an oath, my uncle and I! That is how I have +broken with the only relative I possess. It is now ten days since then. +I now have five left in which to mend the broken thread of the family +tradition, and become a lawyer. But nothing points to such conversion. +On the contrary, I feel relieved of a heavy weight, pleased to be free, +to have no profession. I feel the thrill of pleasure that a fugitive +from justice feels on clearing the frontier. Perhaps I was meant for a +different course of life than the one I was forced to follow. As a child +I was brought up to worship the Mouillard practice, with the fixed idea +that this profession alone could suit me; heir apparent to a lawyer's +stool--born to it, brought up to it, without any idea, at any rate for a +long time, that I could possibly free myself from the traditions of the +law's sacred jargon. + +I have quite got over that now. The courts, where I have been a frequent +spectator, seem to me full of talented men who fine down and belittle +their talents in the practice of law. Nothing uses up the nobler virtues +more quickly than a practice at the bar. Generosity, enthusiasm, +sensibility, true and ready sympathy--all are taken, leaving the man, in +many instances nothing but a skilful actor, who apes all the emotions +while feeling none. And the comedy is none the less repugnant to me +because it is played through with a solemn face, and the actors are +richly recompensed. + +Lampron is not like this. He has given play to all the noble qualities +of his nature. I envy him. I admire his disinterestedness, his broad +views of life, his faith in good in spite of evil, his belief in poetry +in spite of prose, his unspoiled capacity for receiving new impressions +and illusions--a capacity which, amid the crowds that grow old in mind +before they are old in body, keeps him still young and boyish. I think +I might have been devoted to his profession, or to literature, or to +anything but law. + +We shall see. For the present I have taken a plunge into the unknown. +My time is all my own, my freedom is absolute, and I am enjoying it. + +I have hidden nothing from Lampron. As my friend he is pleased, I can +see, at a resolve which keeps me in Paris; but his prudence cries out +upon it. + +"It is easy enough to refuse a profession," he said; "harder to find +another in its place. What do you intend to do?" + +"I don't know." + +"My dear fellow, you seem to be trusting to luck. At sixteen that might +be permissible, at twenty-four it's a mistake." + +"So much the worse, for I shall make the mistake. If I have to live on +little--well, you've tried that before now; I shall only be following +you." + +"That's true; I have known want, and even now it attacks me sometimes; +it's like influenza, which does not leave its victims all at once; but it +is hard, I can tell you, to do without the necessaries of life; as for +its luxuries--" + +"Oh, of course, no one can do without its luxuries." + +"You are incorrigible," he answered, with a laugh. Then he said no more. +Lampron's silence is the only argument which struggles in my heart in +favor of the Mouillard practice. Who can guess from what quarter the +wind will blow? + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE BEATEN PATH + + June 5th. + +The die is cast; I will not be a lawyer. + +The tradition of the Mouillards is broken for good, Sylvestre is defeated +for good, and I am free for good--and quite uncertain of my future. + +I have written my uncle a calm, polite, and clearly worded letter to +confirm my decision. He has not answered it, nor did I expect an answer. + +I expected, however, that he would be avenged by some faint regret on my +part, by one of those light mists that so often arise and hang about our +firmest resolutions. But no such mist has arisen. + +Still, Law has had her revenge. Abandoned at Bourges, she has recaptured +me at Paris, for a time. I realized that it was impossible for me to +live on an income of fourteen hundred francs. The friends whom I +discreetly questioned, in behalf of an unnamed acquaintance, as to the +means of earning money, gave me various answers. Here is a fairly +complete list of their expedients: + +"If your friend is at all clever, he should write a novel." + +"If he is not, there is the catalogue of the National Library: ten hours +of indexing a day." + +"If he has ambition, let him become a wine-merchant." + +"No; 'Old Clo,' and get his hats gratis." + +"If he is very plain, and has no voice, he can sing in the chorus at the +opera." + +"Shorthand writer in the Senate is a peaceful occupation." + +"Teacher of Volapuk is the profession of the future." + +"Try 'Hallo, are you there?' in the telephones." + +"Wants to earn money? Advise him first not to lose any!" + +The most sensible one, who guessed the name of the acquaintance I was +interested in, said: + +"You have been a managing clerk; go back to it." + +And as the situation chanced to be vacant, I went back to my old master. +I took my old seat and den as managing clerk between the outer office and +Counsellor Boule's glass cage. I correct the drafts of the inferior +clerks; I see the clients and instruct them how to proceed. They often +take me for the counsellor himself. I go to the courts nearly every day, +and hang about chief clerks' and judges' chambers; and go to the theatre +once a week with the "paper" supplied to the office. + +Do I call this a profession? No, merely a stop-gap which allows me to +live and wait for something to turn up. I sometimes have forebodings +that I shall go on like this forever, waiting for something which will +never turn up; that this temporary occupation may become only too +permanent. + +There is an old clerk in the office who has never had any other +occupation, whose appearance is a kind of warning to me. He has a red +face--the effect of the office stove, I think--straight, white hair, +the expression when spoken to of a startled sheep-gentle, astonished, +slightly flurried. His attenuated back is rounded off with a stoop +between the neck and shoulders. He can hardly keep his hands from +shaking. His signature is a work of art. He can stick at his desk for +six hours without stirring. While we lunch at a restaurant, he consumes +at the office some nondescript provisions which he brings in the morning +in a paper bag. On Sundays he fishes, for a change; his rod takes the +place of his pen, and his can of worms serves instead of inkstand. + +He and I have already one point of resemblance. The old clerk was once +crossed in love with a flowergirl, one Mademoiselle Elodie. He has told +me this one tragedy of his life. In days gone by I used to think this +thirty-year-old love-story dull and commonplace; to-day I understand +M. Jupille; I relish him even. He and I have become sympathetic. I no +longer make him move from his seat by the fire when I want to ask him a +question: I go to him. On Sundays, on the quays by the Seine, I pick him +out from the crowd intent upon the capture of tittlebats, because he is +seated upon his handkerchief. I go up to him and we have a talk. + +"Fish biting, Monsieur Jupille?" + +"Hardly at all." + +"Sport is not what it used to be?" + +"Ah! Monsieur Mouillard, if you could have seen it thirty years ago!" + +This date is always cropping up with him. Have we not all our own date, +a few months, a few days, perhaps a single hour of full-hearted joy, for +which half our life has been a preparation, and of which the other half +must be a remembrance? + + + June 5th. + +"Monsieur Mouillard, here is an application for leave to sign judgment in +a fresh matter." + +"Very well, give it me." + + +"To the President of the Civil Court: + +"Monsieur Plumet, of 27 Rue Hauteville, in the city of Paris, by +Counsellor Boule, his advocate, craves leave--" + +It was a proceeding against a refractory debtor, the commonest thing in +the world. + +"Monsieur Massinot!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Who brought these papers?" + +"A very pretty little woman brought them this morning while you were out, +sir." + +"Monsieur Massinot, whether she was pretty or not, it is no business of +yours to criticise the looks of the clients." + +"I did not mean to offend you, Monsieur Mouillard." + +"You have not offended me, but you have no business to talk of a 'pretty +client.' That epithet is not allowed in a pleading, that's all. The lady +is coming back, I suppose?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Little Madame Plumet soon called again, tricked out from head to foot in +the latest fashion. She was a little flurried on entering a room full of +jocular clerks. Escorted by Massinot, both of them with their eyes fixed +on the ground, she reached my office. I closed the door after her. She +recognized me. + +"Monsieur Mouillard! What a pleasant surprise!" + +She held out her hand to me so frankly and gracefully that I gave her +mine, and felt sure, from the firm, expressive way in which she clasped +it, that Madame Plumet was really pleased to see me. Her ruddy cheeks +and bright eyes recalled my first impression of her, the little +dressmaker running from the workshop to the office, full of her love for +M. Plumet and her grievances against the wicked cabinetmaker. + +"What, you are back again with Counsellor Boule? I am surprised!" + +"So am I, Madame Plumet, very much surprised. But such is life! How is +Master Pierre progressing?" + +"Not quite so well, poor darling, since I weaned him. I had to wean him, +Monsieur Mouillard, because I have gone back to my old trade." + +"Dressmaking?" + +"Yes, on my own account this time. I have taken the flat opposite to +ours, on the same floor. Plumet makes frames, while I make gowns. +I have already three workgirls, and enough customers to give me a start. +I do not charge them very dear to begin with. + +One of my customers was a very nice young lady--you know who! I have not +talked to her of you, but I have often wanted to. By the way, Monsieur +Mouillard, did I do my errand well?" + +"What errand?" + +"The important one, about the portrait at the Salon." + +"Oh, yes; very well indeed. I must thank you." + +"She came?" + +"Yes, with her father." + +"She must have been pleased! The drawing was so pretty. Plumet, who is +not much of a talker, is never tired of praising it. I tell you, he and +I did not spare ourselves. He made a bit of a fuss before he would take +the order; he was in a hurry--such a hurry; but when he saw that I was +bent on it he gave in. And it is not the first time he has given in. +Plumet is a good soul, Monsieur Mouillard. When you know him better you +will see what a good soul he is. Well, while he was cutting out the +frame, I went to the porter's wife. What a business it was! I am glad +my errand was successful!" + +"It was too good of you, Madame Plumet; but it was useless, alas! she is +to marry another." + +"Marry another? Impossible!" + +I thought Madame Plumet was about to faint. Had she heard that her son +Pierre had the croup, she could not have been more upset. Her bosom +heaved, she clasped her hands, and gazed at me with sorrowful compassion. + +"Poor Monsieur Mouillard!" + +And two tears, two real tears, coursed down Madame Plumet's cheeks. +I should have liked to catch them. They were the only tears that had +been shed for me by a living soul since my mother died. + +I had to tell her all, every word, down to my rival's name. When she +heard that it was Baron Dufilleul, her indignation knew no bounds. She +exclaimed that the Baron was an awful man; that she knew all sorts of +things about him! Know him? she should think so! That such a union was +impossible, that it could never take place, that Plumet, she knew, would +agree with her: + +"Madame Plumet," I said, "we have strayed some distance from the business +which brought you here. Let us return to your affairs; mine are +hopeless, and you can not remedy them." + +She got up trembling, her eyes red and her feelings a little hurt. + +"My action? Oh, no! I can't attend to it to-day. I've no heart to talk +about my business. What you've told me has made me too unhappy. Another +day, Monsieur Mouillard, another day." + +She left me with a look of mystery, and a pressure of the hand which +seemed to say: "Rely on me!" + +Poor woman! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +I GO TO ITALY + +June 10th. + +In the train. We have passed the fortifications. The stuccoed houses of +the suburbs, the factories, taverns, and gloomy hovels in the debatable +land round Paris are so many points of sunshine in the far distance. The +train is going at full speed. The fields of green or gold are being +unrolled like ribbons before my eyes. Now and again a metallic sound and +a glimpse of columns and advertisements show that we are rushing through +a station in a whirlwind of dust. A flash of light across our path is a +tributary of the river. I am off, well on my way, and no one can stop +me--not Lampron, nor Counsellor Boule, nor yet Plum et. The dream of +years is about to be realized. I am going to see Italy--merely a corner +of it; but what a pleasure even that is, and what unlooked-for luck! + +A few days ago, Counsellor Boule called me into his office. + +"Monsieur Mouillard, you speak Italian fluently, don't you?" + +"Yes, sir." "Would you like a trip at a client's expense?" + +"With pleasure, wherever you like." + +"To Italy?" + +"With very great pleasure." + +"I thought so, and gave your name to the court without asking your +consent. It's a commission to examine documents at Milan, to prove some +copies of deeds and other papers, put in by a supposititious Italian heir +to establish his rights to a rather large property. You remember the +case of Zampini against Veldon and others?" + +"Quite well." + +"It is Zampini's copies of the deeds on which he bases his claim which +you will have to compare with the originals, with the help of a clerk +from the Record Office and a sworn translator. You can go by Switzerland +or by the Corniche route, as you please. You will be allowed six hundred +francs and a fortnight's holiday. Does that suit you?" + +"I should think so!" + +"Then pack up and be off. You must be at Milan by the morning of the +eighteenth." + +I ran to tell the news to Lampron, who was filled with surprise and not a +little emotion at the mention of Italy. And here I am flying along in +the Lyons express, without a regret for Paris. All my heart leaps +forward toward Switzerland, where I shall be to-morrow. I have chosen +this green route to take me to the land of blue skies. Up to the last +moment I feared that some obstacle would arise, that the ill-luck which +dogs my footsteps would keep me back, and I am quite surprised that it +has let me off. True, I nearly lost the train, and the horse of cab No. +7382 must have been a retired racer to make up for the loss of time +caused by M. Plumet. + +Counsellor Boule sent me on a business errand an hour before I started. +On my way back, just as I was crossing the Place de l'Opera in the +aforesaid cab, a voice hailed me: + +"Monsieur Mouillard!" + +I looked first to the right and then to the left, till, on a refuge, I +caught sight of M. Plumet struggling to attract my attention. I stopped +the cab, and a smile of satisfaction spread over M. Plumet's countenance. +He stepped off the refuge. I opened the cab-door. But a brougham +passed, and the horse pushed me back into the cab with his nose. I +opened the door a second time; another brougham came by; then a third; +finally two serried lines of traffic cut me off from M. Plumet, who kept +shouting something to me which the noise of the wheels and the crowd +prevented me from hearing. I signalled my despair to M. Plumet. He rose +on tiptoe. I could not hear any better. + +Five minutes lost! Impossible to wait any longer! Besides, who could +tell that it was not a trap to prevent my departure, though in friendly +guise? I shuddered at the thought and shouted: + +"Gare de Lyon, cabby, as fast as you can drive!" + +My orders were obeyed. We got to the station to find the train made up +and ready to start, and I was the last to take a ticket. + +I suppose M. Plumet managed to escape from his refuge. + + + GENEVA. + +On my arrival I found, keeping order on the way outside the station, the +drollest policeman that ever stepped out of a comic opera. At home we +should have had to protect him against the boys; here he protects others. + +Well, it shows that I am really abroad. + +I have only two hours to spare in this town. What shall I see? The +country; that is always beautiful, whereas many so-called "sights" are +not. I will make for the shores of the lake, for the spot where the +Rhone leaves it, to flow toward France. The Rhone, which is so muddy at +Avignon, is clean here; deep and clear as a creek of the sea. It rushes +along in a narrow blue torrent compressed between a quay and a line of +houses. + +The river draws me after it. We leave the town together, and I am soon +in the midst of those market-gardens where the infant Topffer lost +himself, and, overtaken by nightfall, fell to making his famous analysis +of fear. The big pumping wheels still overtop the willows, and cast +their shadows over the lettuce-fields. In the distance rise slopes of +woodland, on Sundays the haunt of holiday-makers. The Rhone leaps and +eddies, singing over its gravel beds. Two trout-fishers are taxing all +their strength to pull a boat up stream beneath the shelter of the bank + +Perhaps I was wrong in not waiting to hear what M. Plumet had to tell me. +He is not the kind of man to gesticulate wildly without good reason. + + + ON THE LAKE. + +The steamer is gaining the open water and Geneva already lies far behind. +Not a ripple on the blue water that shades into deep blue behind us. +Ahead the scene melts into a milky haze. A little boat, with idle sails +embroidered with sunlight, vanishes into it. On the right rise the +mountains of Savoy, dotted with forests, veiled in clouds which cast +their shadows on the broken slopes. The contrast is happy, and I can not +help admiring Leman's lovely smile at the foot of these rugged mountains. + +At the bend in the banks near St. Maurice-en-Valais, the wind catches us, +quite a squall. The lake becomes a sea. At the first roll an +Englishwoman becomes seasick. She casts an expiring glance upon Chillon, +the ancient towers of which are being lashed by the foam. Her husband +does not think it worth his while to cease reading his guide-book or +focusing his field-glass for so trifling a matter. + + + ON THE DILIGENCE + +I am crossing the Simplon at daybreak, with rosepink glaciers on every +side. We are trotting down the Italian slope. How I have longed for the +sight of Italy! Hardly had the diligence put on the brake, and begun +bowling down the mountain-side, before I discovered a change on the face +of all things. The sky turned to a brighter blue. At the very first +glance I seemed to see the dust of long summers on the leaves of the +firs, six thousand feet above the sea, in the virgin atmosphere of the +mountain-tops: and I was very near taking the creaking of my loosely +fixed seat for the southern melody of the first grasshopper. + + + BAVENO + +No one could be mistaken; this shaven, obsequious, suavely jovial +innkeeper is a Neapolitan. He takes his stand in his mosaic-paved hall, +and is at the service of all who wish for information about Lago +Maggiore, the list of its sights; in a word, the programme of the piece. + + + ISOLA BELLA, ISOLA MADRE. + +Yes, they are scraped clean, carefully tended, pretty, all a-blowing and +a-growing; but unreal. The palm trees are unhomely, the tropical plants +seem to stand behind footlights. Restore them to their homes, or give me +back Lake Leman, so simply grand. + + + MENAGGIO. + +After the sky-blue of Maggiore and the vivid green of Lugano, comes the +violet-blue of Como, with its luminous landscape, its banks covered with +olives, Roman ruins, and modern villas. Never have I felt the air so +clear. Here for the first time I said to myself: "This is the spot where +I would choose to dwell." I have even selected my house; it peeps out +from a mass of pomegranates, evergreens, and citrons, on a peninsula +around which the water swells with gentle murmur, and whence the view is +perfect across lake, mountain, and sky. + +A nightingale is singing, and I can not help reflecting that his fellows +here are put to death in thousands. Yes, the reapers, famed in poems and +lithographs, are desperate bird-catchers. At the season of migration +they capture thousands of these weary travellers with snares or limed +twigs; on Maggiore alone sixty thousand meet their end. We have but +those they choose to leave us to charm our summer nights. + +Perhaps they will kill my nightingale in the Carmelite garden. The idea +fills me with indignation. + +Then my thoughts run back to my rooms in the Rue de Rennes, and I see +Madame Menin, with a dejected air, dusting my slumbering furniture; +Lampron at work, his mother knitting; the old clerk growing sleepy with +the heat and lifting his pen as he fancies he has got a bite; Madame +Plumet amid her covey of workgirls, and M. Plumet blowing away with +impatient breath the gold dust which the gum has failed to fix on the +mouldings of a newly finished frame. + +M. Plumet is pensive. He is burdened with a secret. I am convinced I +did wrong in not waiting longer on the Place de L'Opera. + + + MILAN. + +At last I am in Milan, an ancient city, but full of ideas and energy, my +destination, and the cradle of the excellent Porfirio Zampini, suspected +forger. The examination of documents does not begin till the day after +to-morrow, so I am making the best of the time in seeing the sights. + +There are four sights to see at Milan if you are a musician, and three if +you are not: the Duomo, 'vulgo', cathedral; "The Marriage of the Virgin," +by Raphael; "The Last Supper," by Leonardo; and, if it suits your tastes, +a performance at La Scala. + +I began with the Duomo, and on leaving it I received the news that still +worries me. + +But first of all I must make a confession. When I ascended through the +tropical heat to the marble roof of the cathedral, I expected so much +that I was disappointed. Surprise goes for so much in what we admire. +Neither this mountain of marble, nor the lacework and pinnacles which +adorn the enormous mass, nor the amazing number of statues, nor the sight +of men smaller than flies on the Piazza del Duomo, nor the vast stretch +of flat country which spreads for miles on every side of the city--none +of these sights kindled the spark of enthusiasm within me which has often +glowed for much less. No, what pleased me was something quite different, +a detail not noticed in the guide-books, I suppose. + +I had come down from the roof and was wandering in the vast nave from +pillar to pillar, when I found myself beneath the lantern. I raised my +eyes, but the flood of golden light compelled me to close them. The +sunlight passing through the yellow glass of the windows overhead +encircled the mighty vault of the lantern with a fiery crown, and played +around the walls of its cage in rays which, growing fainter as they fell, +flooded the floor with their expiring flames, a mysterious dayspring, +a diffused glory, through which litany and sacred chant winged their way +up toward the Infinite. + +I left the cathedral tired out, dazed with weariness and sunlight, and +fell asleep in a chair as soon as I got back to my room, on the fifth +floor of the Albergo dell' Agnello. + +I had been asleep for about an hour, perhaps, when I thought I heard a +voice near me repeating "Illustre Signore!" + +I did not wake. The voice continued with a murmur of sibilants: + +"Illustrissimo Signore!" + +This drew me from my sleep, for the human ear is very susceptible to +superlatives. + +"What is it?" + +"A letter for your lordship. As it is marked 'Immediate,' I thought I +might take the liberty of disturbing your lordship's slumbers." + +"You did quite right, Tomaso." + +"You owe me eight sous, signore, which I paid for the postage." + +"There's half a franc, keep the change." + +He retired calling me Monsieur le Comte; and all for two sous-- +O fatherland of Brutus! The letter was from Lampron, who had forgotten +to put a stamp on it. + + "MY DEAR FRIEND: + + "Madame Plumet, to whom I believe you have given no instructions so + to do, is at present busying herself considerably about your + affairs. I felt I ought to warn you, because she is all heart and + no brains, and I have often seen before the trouble into which an + overzealous friend may get one, especially if the friend be a woman. + + "I fear some serious indiscretion has been committed, for the + following reasons. + + "Yesterday evening Monsieur Plumet came to see me, and stood pulling + furiously at his beard, which I know from experience is his way of + showing that the world is not going around the right way for him. + By means of questions, I succeeded, after some difficulty, in + dragging from him about half what he had to tell me. The only thing + which he made quite clear was his distress on finding that Madame + Plumet was a woman whom it was hard to silence or to convince by + argument. + + "It appears that she has gone back to her old trade of dress-making, + and that one of her first customers--God knows how she got there!-- + was Mademoiselle Jeanne Charnot. + + "Well, last Monday Mademoiselle Jeanne was selecting a hat. She was + blithe as dawn, while the dressmaker was gloomy as night. + + "'Is your little boy ill, Madame Plumet?' + + "'No, Mademoiselle.' + + "'You look so sad.' + + "Then, according to her husband's words, Madame Plumet took her + courage in her two hands, and looking her pretty customer in the + face, said: + + "'Mademoiselle, why are you marrying?' + + "'What a funny question! Why, because I am old enough; because I + have had an offer; because all young girls marry, or else they go + into convents, or become old maids. Well, Madame Plumet, I never + have felt a religious vocation, and I never expected to become an + old maid. Why do you ask such a question?' + + "'Because, Mademoiselle, married life may be very happy, but it may + be quite the reverse!' + + "After giving expression to this excellent aphorism, Madame Plumet, + unable to contain herself any longer, burst into tears. + + "Mademoiselle Jeanne, who had been laughing before, was now amazed + and presently grew rather anxious. + + "Still, her pride kept her from asking any further questions, and + Madame Plumet was too much frightened to add a word to her answer. + But they will meet again the day after to-morrow, on account of the + hat, as before. + + "Here the story grew confused, and I understood no more of it. + + "Clearly there is more behind this. Monsieur Plumet never would + have gone out of his way merely to inform me that his wife had given + him a taste of her tongue, nor would he have looked so upset about + it. But you know the fellow's way; whenever it's important for him + to make himself clear he loses what little power of speech he has, + becomes worse than dumb-unintelligible. He sputtered inconsequent + ejaculations at me in this fashion: + + "'To think of it, to-morrow, perhaps! And you know what a + business! Oh, damnation! Anyhow, that must not be! Ah! Monsieur + Lampron, how women do talk!' + + "And with this Monsieur Plumet left me. + + "I must confess, old fellow, that I am not burning with desire to + get mixed up in this mess, or to go and ask Madame Plumet for the + explanation which her husband was unable to give me. I shall bide + my time. If anything turns up to-morrow, they are sure to tell me, + and I will write you word. + + "My mother sends you her love, and begs you to wrap up warmly in the + evening; she says the twilight is the winter of hot climates. + + "The dear woman has been a little out of sorts for the last two + days. Today she is keeping her bed. I trust it is nothing but a + cold. + + "Your affectionate friend, + + "SYLVESTRE LAMPRON." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +STARTLING NEWS FROM SYLVESTRE + + MILAN, June 18th. + +The examination of documents began this morning. I never thought we +should have such a heap to examine, nor papers of such a length. The +first sitting passed almost entirely in classifying, in examining +signatures, in skirmishes of all kinds around this main body. + +My colleagues and I are working in a room in the municipal Palazzo del +Marino, a vast deserted building used, I believe, as a storehouse. Our +leathern armchairs and the table on which the documents are arranged +occupy the middle of the room. Along the walls are several cupboards, +nests of registers and rats; a few pictures with their faces to the wall; +some carved wood scutcheons, half a dozen flagstaffs and a triumphal arch +in cardboard, now taken to pieces and rotting--gloomy apparatus of bygone +festivals. + +The persons taking part in the examination besides the three Frenchmen, +are, in the first place, a little Italian judge, with a mean face, +wrinkled like a winter apple, whose eyelids always seem heavy with sleep; +secondly, a clerk, shining with fat, his dress, hair, and countenance +expressive of restrained jollity, as he dreams voluptuous dreams of the +cool drinks he means to absorb through a straw when the hour of +deliverance shall sound from the frightful cuckoo clock, a relic of the +French occupation, which ticks at the end of the room; thirdly, a +creature whose position is difficult to determine--I think he must be +employed in some registry; he is here as a mere manual laborer. This +third person gives me the idea of being very much interested in the +fortunes of Signore Porfirio Zampini, for on each occasion, when his +duties required him to bring us documents, he whispered in my ear: + +"If you only knew, my lord, what a man Zampini is! what a noble heart, +what a paladin!" + +Take notice that this "paladin" is a macaroni-seller, strongly suspected +of trying to hoodwink the French courts. + +Amid the awful heat which penetrated the windows, the doors, even the +sun-baked walls, we had to listen to, read, and compare documents. Gnats +of a ferocious kind, hatched by thousands in the hangings of this +hothouse, flew around our perspiring heads. Their buzzing got the upper +hand at intervals when the clerk's voice grew weary and, diminishing in +volume, threatened to fade away into snores. + +The little judge rapped on the table with his paperknife and urged the +reader afresh upon his wild career. My colleague from the Record Office +showed no sign of weariness. Motionless, attentive, classing the +smallest papers in his orderly mind, he did not even feel the' gnats +swooping upon the veins in his hands, stinging them, sucking them, and +flying off red and distended with his blood. + +I sat, both literally and metaphorically, on hot coals. Just as I came +into the room, the man from the Record Office handed me a letter which +had arrived at the hotel while I was out at lunch. It was a letter from +Lampron, in a large, bulky envelope. Clearly something important must +have happened. + +My fate, perhaps, was settled, and was in the letter, while I knew it +not. I tried to get it out of my inside pocket several times, for to me +it was a far more interesting document than any that concerned Zampini's +action. I pined to open it furtively, and read at least the first few +lines. A moment would have sufficed for me to get at the point of this +long communication. But at every attempt the judge's eyes turned slowly +upon me between their half-closed lids, and made me desist. No--a +thousand times no! This smooth-tongued, wily Italian shall have no +excuse for proving that the French, who have already such a reputation +for frivolity, are a nation without a conscience, incapable of fulfilling +the mission with which they are charged. + +And yet.... there came a moment when he turned his back and began to +sort a fresh bundle with the man of records. Here was an unlooked-for +opportunity. I cut open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and found +eight pages! Still I began: + + + "MY DEAR FRIEND: + + "In spite of my anxiety about my mother, and the care her illness + demands (to-day it is found to be undoubted congestion of the + lungs), I feel bound to tell you the story of what has happened in + the Rue Hautefeuille, as it is very important--" + +"Excuse me, Monsieur Mou-il-ard," said the little judge, half turning +toward me, "does the paper you have there happen to be number twenty- +seven, which we are looking for?" + +"Oh, dear, no; it's a private letter." + +"A private letter? I ask pardon for interrupting you." + +He gave a faint smile, closed his eyes to show his pity for such +frivolity, and turned away again satisfied, while the other members of +the Zampini Commission looked at me with interest. + +The letter was important. So much the worse, I must finish it: + + "I will try to reconstruct the scene for you, from the details which + I have gathered. + + "The time is a quarter to ten in the morning. There is a knock at + Monsieur Plumet's door. The door opposite is opened half-way and + Madame Plumet looks out. She withdraws in a hurry, 'with her heart + in her mouth,' as she says; the plot she has formed is about to + succeed or fail, the critical moment is at hand; the visitor is her + enemy, your rival Dufilleul. + + "He is full of self-confidence and comes in plump and flourishing, + with light gloves, and a terrier at his heels. + + "'My portrait framed, Plumet?' + + "'Yes, my lord-yes, to be sure.' + + "'Let's see it.' + + "I have seen the famous portrait: a miniature of the newly created + baron, in fresh butter, I think, done cheap by some poor girl who + gains her living by coloring photographs. It is intended for + Mademoiselle Tigra of the Bouffes. A delicate attention from + Dufilleul, isn't it? While Jeanne in her innocence is dreaming of + the words of love he has ventured to utter to her, and cherishes but + one thought, one image in her heart, he is exerting his ingenuity to + perpetuate the recollection of that image's adventures elsewhere. + + "He is pleased with the elaborate and costly frame which Plumet has + made for him. + + "'Very nice. How much?' + + "'One hundred and twenty francs.' + + "'Six louis? very dear.' + + "'That's my price for this kind of work, my lord; I am very + busy just now, my lord.' + + "'Well, let it be this once. I don't often have a picture framed; + to tell the truth, I don't care for pictures.' + + "Dufilleul admires and looks at himself in the vile portrait + which he holds outstretched in his right hand, while his left hand + feels in his purse. Monsieur Plumet looks very stiff, very unhappy, + and very nervous. He evidently wants to get his customer off the + premises. + + "The rustling of skirts is heard on the staircase. Plumet turns + pale, and glancing at the half-opened door, through which the + terrier is pushing its nose, steps forward to close it. It is too + late. + + "Some one has noiselessly opened it, and on the threshold stands + Mademoiselle Jeanne in walking-dress, looking, with bright eyes and + her most charming smile, at Plumet, who steps back in a fright, and + Dufilleul, who has not yet seen her. + + "'Well, sir, and so I've caught you!' + + "Dufilleul starts, and involuntarily clutches the portrait to his + waistcoat. + + "'Mademoiselle-- No, really, you have come--?' + + "'To see Madame Plumet. What wrong is there in that?' + + "'None whatever--of course not.' + + "'Not the least in the world, eh? Ha, ha! What a trifle flurries + you. Come now, collect yourself. There is nothing to be frightened + at. As I was coming upstairs, your dog put his muzzle out; I + guessed he was not alone, so I left my maid with Madame Plumet, and + came in at the right-hand door instead of the left. Do you think it + improper?' + + "'Oh, no, Mademoiselle.' + + "'However, I am inquisitive, and I should like to see what you are + hiding there.' + + "'It's a portrait.' + + "'Hand it to me.' + + "'With pleasure; unfortunately it's only a portrait of myself.' + + "'Why unfortunately? On the contrary, it flatters you--the nose is + not so long as the original; what do you say, Monsieur Plumet?' + + "'Do you think it good?' + + "'Very.' + + "'How do you like the frame?' + + "'It's very pretty.' + + "'Then I make you a present of it, Mademoiselle.' + + "'Why! wasn't it intended for me?' + + "'I mean--well! to tell the truth, it wasn't; it's a wedding + present, a souvenir--there's nothing extraordinary in that, is + there?' + + "'Nothing whatever. You can tell me whom it's for, I suppose?' + + "'Don't you think that you are pushing your curiosity too far?' + + "'Well, really!' + + "'Yes, I mean it.' + + "'Since you make such a secret of it, I shall ask Monsieur Plumet to + tell me. Monsieur Plumet, for whom is this portrait?' + + "Plumet, pale as death, fumbled at his workman's cap, like a naughty + child. + + "'Why, you see, Mademoiselle--I am only a poor framemaker.' + + "'Very well! I shall go to Madame Plumet, who is sure to know, and + will not mind telling me.' + + "Madame Plumet, who must have been listening at the door, came in at + that moment, trembling like a leaf, and prepared to dare all. + + "I beg you won't, Mademoiselle,' broke in Dufilleul; 'there is no + secret. I only wanted to tease you. The portrait is for a friend + of mine who lives at Fontainebleau.' + + "'His name?' + + "'Gonin--he's a solicitor.' + + "'It was time you told me. How wretched you both looked. Another + time tell me straight out, and frankly, anything you have no reason + to conceal. Promise you won't act like this again.' + + "'I promise.' + + "'Then, let us make peace.' + + "She held out her hand to him. Before he could grasp it, Madame + Plumet broke in: + + "'Excuse me, Mademoiselle, I can not have you deceived like this in + my house. Mademoiselle, it is not true!' + + "'What is not true, Madame?' + + "'That this portrait is for Monsieur Gonin, or anybody else at + Fontainebleau.' + + "Mademoiselle Charnot drew back in surprise. + + "'For whom, then?' + + "'An actress.' + + "'Take care what you are saying, Madame.' + + "'For Mademoiselle Tigra of the Bouffes.' + + "'Lies!' cried Dufilleul. 'Prove it, Madame; prove your story, + please!' + + "'Look at the back,' answered Madame Plumet, quietly. + + "Mademoiselle Jeanne, who had not put down the miniature, turned it + over, read what was on the back, grew deathly pale, and handed it to + her lover. + + "'What does it say?' said Dufilleul, stooping over it. + + "It said: 'From Monsieur le Baron D----- to Mademoiselle T-----, + Boulevard Haussmann. To be delivered on Thursday.' + + "'You can see at once, Mademoiselle, that this is not my writing. + It's an abominable conspiracy. Monsieur Plumet, I call upon you to + give your wife the lie. She has written what is false; confess it!' + + "The frame-maker hid his face in his hands and made no reply. + + "'What, Plumet, have you nothing to say for me?' + + "Mademoiselle Charnot was leaving the room. + + "'Where are you going, Mademoiselle? Stay, you will soon see that + they lie!' + + "She was already half-way across the landing when Dufilleul caught + her and seized her by the hand. + + "'Stay, Jeanne, stay!' + + "'Let me go, sir!' + + "'No, hear me first; this is some horrible mistake. I swear' + + "At this moment a high-pitched voice was heard on the staircase. + + "'Well, George, how much longer are you going to keep me?' + + "Dufilleul suddenly lost countenance and dropped Mademoiselle + Charnot's hand. + + "The young girl bent over the banisters, and saw, at the bottom of + the staircase, exactly underneath her, a woman looking up, with head + thrown back and mouth still half-opened. Their eyes met. Jeanne at + once turned away her gaze. + + "Then, turning to Madame Plumet, who leaned motionless against the + wall: + + "'Come, Madame,' she said, 'we must go and choose a hat.' And she + closed the dressmaker's door behind her. + + "This, my friend, is the true account of what happened in the Rue + Hautefeuille. I learned the details from Madame Plumet in person, + who could not contain herself for joy as she described the success + of her conspiracy, and how her little hand had guided old Dame + Fortune's. For, as you will doubtless have guessed, the meeting + between Jeanne and her lover, so dreaded by the framemaker, had been + arranged by Madame Plumet unknown to all, and the damning + inscription was also in her handwriting. + + "I need not add that Mademoiselle Charnot, upset by the scene, had a + momentary attack of faintness. However, she soon regained her usual + firm and dignified demeanor, which seems to show that she is a woman + of energy. + + "But the interest of the story does not cease here. I think the + betrothal is definitely at an end. A betrothal is always a + difficult thing to renew, and after the publicity which attended the + rupture of this one, I do not see how they can make it up again. + One thing I feel sure of is, that Mademoiselle Jeanne Charnot will + never change her name to Madame Dufilleul. + + "Do not, however, exaggerate your own chances. They will be less + than you think for some time yet. I do not believe that a young + girl who has thus been wounded and deceived can forget all at once. + There is even the possibility of her never forgetting--of living + with her sorrow, preferring certain peace of mind, and the simple + joys of filial devotion, to all those dreams of married life by + which so many simple-hearted girls have been cruelly taken in. + + "In any case do not think of returning yet, for I know you are + capable of any imprudence. Stay where you are, examine your + documents, and wait. + + "My mother and I are passing through a bitter trial. She is ill, I + may say seriously ill. I would sooner bear the illness than my + present anxiety. + "Your friend, + "SYLVESTRE LAMPRON. + + "P. S.--Just as I was about to fasten up this letter, I got a note + from Madame Plumet to tell me that Monsieur and Mademoiselle Charnot + have left Paris. She does not know where they have gone." + + +I became completely absorbed over this letter. Some passages I read a +second time; and the state of agitation into which it threw me did not at +once pass away. I remained for an indefinite time without a notion of +what was going on around me, entirely wrapped up in the past or the +future. + +The Italian attendant brought me back to the present with a jerk of his +elbow. He was replacing the last register in the huge drawers of the +table. He and I were alone. My colleagues had left, and our first +sitting had come to an end without my assistance, though before my eyes. +They could not have gone far, so, somewhat ashamed of my want of +attention, I put on my hat, and went to find them and apologize. The +little attendant caught me by the sleeve, and gave a knowing smile at the +letter which I was slipping into my pocketbook. + +"E d'una donna?" he asked. + +"What's that to you?" + +"I am sure of it; a letter from a man would never take so long to read; +and, 'per Bacco', you were a time about it! 'Oh, le donne, illustre +signore, le downe!'" + +"That's enough, thank you." + +I made for the door, but he threw himself nimbly in my way, grimacing, +raising his eyebrows, one finger on his ribs. "Listen, my lord, I can +see you are a true scholar, a man whom fame alone can tempt. I could get +your lordship such beautiful manuscripts--Italian, Latin, German +manuscripts that never have been edited, my noble lord!" + +"Stolen, too!" I replied, and pushed past him. + +I went out, and in the neighboring square, amicably seated at the same +table, under the awning of a cafe, I found my French colleagues and the +Italian judge. At a table a little apart the clerk was sucking something +through a straw. And they all laughed as they saw me making my way +toward them through the still scorching glare of the sun. + + + MILAN, June 25th. + +Our mission was concluded to-day. Zampini is a mere rogue. Brought face +to face with facts he could not escape from, he confessed that he had +intended to "have a lark" with the French heirs by claiming to be the +rightful heir himself, though he lacked two degrees of relationship to +establish his claim. + +We explained to him that this little "lark" was a fraudulent act which +exposed him at least to the consequence of having to pay the costs of the +action. He accepted our opinion in the politest manner possible. I +believe he is hopelessly insolvent. He will pay the usher in macaroni, +and the barrister in jests. + +My colleagues, the record man and the translator, leave Milan to-morrow. +I shall go with them. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A SURPRISING ENCOUNTER + + MILAN, June 26th. + +I have just had another letter from Sylvestre. My poor friend is very +miserable; his mother is dead--a saint if ever there was one. I was very +deeply touched by the news, although I knew this lovable woman very +slightly--too slightly, indeed, not having been a son, or related in any +way to her, but merely a passing stranger who found his way within the +horizon of her heart, that narrow limit within which she spread abroad +the treasures of her tenderness and wisdom. How terribly her son must +feel her loss! + +He described in his letter her last moments, and the calmness with which +she met death, and added: + + "One thing, which perhaps you will not understand, is the remorse + which is mingled with my sorrow. I lived with her forty years, and + have some right to be called 'a good son.' But, when I compare the + proofs of affection I gave her with those she gave me, the + sacrifices I made for her with those she made for me; when I think + of the egoism which found its way into our common life, on which I + founded my claims to merit, of the wealth of tenderness and sympathy + with which she repaid a few walks on my arm, a few kind words, and + of her really great forbearance in dwelling beneath the same roof + with me--I feel that I was ungrateful, and not worthy of the + happiness I enjoyed. + + "I am tortured by the thought that it is impossible for me to repair + all my neglect, to pay a debt the greatness of which I now recognize + for the first time. She is gone. All is over. My prayers alone + can reach her, can tell her that I loved her, that I worshipped her, + that I might have been capable of doing all that I have left undone + for her. + + "Oh, my friend, what pleasant duties have I lost! I mean, at least, + to fulfil her last wishes, and it is on account of one of them that + I am writing to you. + + "You know that my mother was never quite pleased at my keeping at + home the portrait of her who was my first and only love. She would + have preferred that my eyes did not recall so often to my heart the + recollection of my long-past sorrows. I withstood her. On her + death-bed she begged me to give up the picture to, those who should + have had it long ago. 'So long as I was here to comfort you in the + sorrows which the sight of it revived in you,' she said, 'I did not + press this upon you; but soon you will be left alone, with no one to + raise you when your spirits fail you. They have often begged you to + give up the picture to them. The time is come for you to grant + their prayers.' + + "I promised. + + "And now, dear friend, help me to keep my promise. I do not wish to + write to them. My hand would tremble, and they would tremble when + they saw my writing. Go and see them. + + "They live about nine miles from Milan, on the Monza road, but + beyond that town, close to the village of Desio. The villa is + called Dannegianti, after its owners. It used to be hidden among + poplars, and its groves were famous for their shade. You must send + in your card to the old lady of the house together with mine. They + will receive you. Then you must break the news to them as you think + best, that, in accordance with the dying wish of Sylvestre Lampron's + mother, the portrait of Rafaella is to be given in perpetuity to the + Villa Dannegianti. Given, you understand. + + "You may even tell them that it is on its way. I have just arranged + with Plumet about packing it. He is a good workman, as you know. + To-morrow all will be ready, and my home an absolute void. + + "I intend to take refuge in hard work, and I count upon you to + alleviate to some extent the hardships of such a method of + consolation. + + "SYLVESTRE LAMPRON." + + +When I got Lampron's letter, at ten in the morning, I went at once to see +the landlord of the Albergo dell' Agnello. + +"You can get me a carriage for Desio, can't you?" + +"Oh, your lordship thinks of driving to Desio? That is quite right. It +is much more picturesque than going by train. A little way beyond Monza. +Monza, sir, is one of our richest jewels; you will see there--" + +"Yes," said I, repeating my Baedeker as accurately as he, "the Villa +Reale, and the Iron Crown of the Emperors of the West." + +"Exactly so, sir, and the cathedral built--" + +"By Theodolinda, Queen of the Lombards, A.D. 595, restored in the +sixteenth century. I know; I only asked whether you could get me a +decent carriage." + +"A matchless one! At half-past three, when the heat is less intense, +your lordship will find the horses harnessed. You will have plenty of +time to get to Desio before sunset, and be back in time for supper." + +At the appointed time I received notice. My host had more than kept his +word, for the horses sped through Milan at a trot which they did not +relinquish when we got into the Como road, amid the flat and fertile +country which is called the garden of Italy. + +After an hour and a half, including a brief halt at Monza, the coachman +drew up his horses before the first house in Desio--an inn. + +It was a very poor inn, situated at the corner of the main street and of +a road which branched off into the country. In front of it a few plane- +trees, trained into an arbor, formed an arch of shade. A few feet of +vine clambered about their trunks. The sun was scorching the leaves and +the heavy bunches of grapes which hung here and there. The shutters were +closed, and the little house seemed to have been lulled to sleep by the +heat and light of the atmosphere and the buzzing of the gnats. + +"Oh, go in; they'll wake up at once," said the coachman, who had divined +my thoughts. + +Then, without waiting for my answer, like a man familiar with the customs +of the country, he took his horses down the road to the stable. + +I went in. A swarm of bees and drones were buzzing like a whirlwind +beneath the plane-trees; a frightened white hen ran cackling from her +nest in the dust. No one appeared. I opened the door; still nobody was +to be seen. Inside I found a passage, with rooms to right and left and a +wooden staircase at the end. The house, having been kept well closed, +was cool and fresh. As I stood on the threshold striving to accustom my +eyes to the darkness of the interior, I heard the sound of voices to my +right: + +"Picturesque as you please, but the journey has been a failure! These +people are no better than savages; introductions, distinctions, and I may +say even fame, had no effect upon them!" + +"Do you think they have even read your letters?" "That would be still +worse, to refuse to read letters addressed to them! No, I tell you, +there's no excuse." + +"They have suffered great trouble, I hear, and that is some excuse for +them, father." + +"No, my dear, there is no possible excuse for their keeping hidden +treasures of such scientific interest. I do not consider that even an +Italian nobleman, were he orphan from his cradle, and thrice a widower, +has any right to keep locked up from the investigation of scholars an +unequalled collection of Roman coins, and a very presentable show of +medallions and medals properly so-called. Are you aware that this +boorish patrician has in his possession the eight types of medal of the +gens Attilia?" + +"Really?" + +"I am certain of it, and he has the thirty-seven of the gens Cassia, one +hundred and eighteen to one hundred and twenty-one of the gens Cornelia, +the eleven Farsuleia, and dozens of Numitoria, Pompeia, and Scribonia, +all in perfect condition, as if fresh from the die. Besides these, he +has some large medals of the greatest rarity; the Marcus Aurelius with +his son on the reverse side, Theodora bearing the globe, and above all +the Annia Faustina with Heliogabalus on the reverse side, an incomparable +treasure, of which there is only one other example, and that an imperfect +one, in the world--a marvel which I would give a day of my life to see; +yes, my dear, a day of my life!" + +Such talk as this, in French, in such an inn as this! + +I felt a presentiment, and stepped softly to the right-hand door. + +In the darkened room, lighted only by a few rays filtered between the +slats of the shutters, sat a young girl. Her hat was hung upon a nail +above her head; one arm rested on a wretched white wood table; her head +was bent forward in mournful resignation. On the other side of the +table, her father was leaning back in his chair against the whitewashed +wall, with folded arms, heightened color, and every sign of extreme +disgust. Both rose as I entered--Jeanne first, M. Charnot after her. +They were astonished at seeing me. + +I was no less astounded than they. + +We stood and stared at each other for some time, to make sure that we +were not dreaming. + +M. Charnot was the first to break the silence. He did not seem +altogether pleased at my appearance, and turned to his daughter, whose +face had grown very red and yet rather chilling: + +"Jeanne, put your hat on; it is time to go to the station." Then he +addressed me: + +"We shall leave you the room to yourself, sir; and since the most +extraordinary coincidence"--he emphasized the words--"has brought you to +this damnable village, I hope you will enjoy your visit." + +"Have you been here long, Monsieur?" + +"Two hours, Monsieur, two mortal hours in this inn, fried by the sun, +bored to death, murdered piecemeal by flies, and infuriated by the want +of hospitality in this out-of-the-way hole in Lombardy." + +"Yes, I noticed that the host was nowhere to be seen, and that is the +reason why I came in here; I had no idea that I should have the honor of +meeting you." + +"Good God! I'm not complaining of him! He's asleep in his barn over +there. You can wake him up; he doesn't mind showing himself; he even +makes himself agreeable when he has finished his siesta." + +"I only wish to ask him one question, which perhaps you could answer, +Monsieur; then I need not waken him. Could you tell me the way to the +Villa Dannegianti?" + +M. Charnot walked up to me, looked me straight in the eyes, shrugged his +shoulders, and burst out laughing. + +"The Villa Dannegianti!" + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"Are you going to the Villa Dannegianti?" + +"Yes, Monsieur." + +"Then you may as well turn round and go home again." + +"Why?" + +"Because there's no admission." + +"But I have a letter of introduction." + +"I had two, Monsieur, without counting the initials after my name, which +are worth something and have opened the doors of more than one foreign +collection for me; yet they denied me admission! Think of it! The +porter of that insolent family denied me admission! Do you expect to +succeed after that?" + +"I do, Monsieur." + +My words seemed to him the height of presumption. + +"Come, Jeanne," he said, "let us leave this gentleman to his youthful +illusions. They will soon be shattered--very soon." + +He gave me an ironical smile and made for the door. + +At this moment Jeanne dropped her sunshade. I picked it up for her. + +"Thank you, Monsieur," she said. + +Of course these words were no more than ordinarily polite. She would +have said the same to the first comer. Nothing in her attitude or her +look displayed any emotion which might put a value on this common form of +speech. But it was her voice, that music I so often dream of. Had it +spoken insults, I should have found it sweet. It inspired me with the +sudden resolution of detaining this fugitive apparition, of resting, if +possible, another hour near her to whose side an unexpected stroke of +fortune had brought me. + +M. Charnot had already left the room; his rotund shadow rested on the +wall of the passage. He held a travelling-bag in his hand. + +"Monsieur," said I, "I am sorry that you are obliged to return already to +Milan. I am quite certain of admission to the Villa Dannegianti, and it +would have given me pleasure to repair a mistake which is clearly due +only to the stupidity of the servants." + +He stopped; the stroke had told. + +"It is certainly quite possible that they never looked at my card or my +letters. But allow me to ask, since my card did not reach the host, what +secret you possess to enable yours to get to him?" + +"No secret at all, still less any merit of my own. I am the bearer of +news of great importance to the owners of the villa, news of a purely +private nature. They will be obliged to see me. My first care, when I +had fulfilled my mission, would have been to mention your name. You +would have been able to go over the house, and inspect a collection of +medals which, I have heard, is a very fine one." + +"Unique, Monsieur!" + +"Unfortunately you are going away, and to-morrow I have to leave Milan +myself, for Paris." + +"You have been some time in Italy, then?" + +"Nearly a fortnight." + +M. Charnot gave his daughter a meaning look, and suddenly became more +friendly. + +"I thought you had just come. We have not been here so long," he added; +"my daughter has been a little out of sorts, and the doctor advised us to +travel for change of air. Paris is not healthful in this very hot +weather." + +He looked hard at me to see whether his fib had taken me in. I replied, +with an air of the utmost conviction, "That is putting it mildly. Paris, +in July, is uninhabitable." + +"That's it, Monsieur, uninhabitable; we were forced to leave it. We soon +made up our minds, and, in spite of the time of the year, we turned our +steps toward the home of the classics, to Italy, the museum of Europe. +And you really think, then, that by means of your good offices we should +have been admitted to the villa?" + +"Yes, Monsieur, but owing only to the missive with which I am entrusted." + +M. Charnot hesitated. He was probably thinking of the blot of ink, and +certainly of M. Mouillard's visit. But he doubtless reflected that +Jeanne knew nothing of the old lawyer's proceedings, that we were far +from Paris, that the opportunity was not to be lost; and in the end his +passion for numismatics conquered at once his resentment as a bookworm +and his scruples as a father. + +"There is a later train at ten minutes to eight, father," said Jeanne. + +"Well, dear, do you care to try your luck again, and return to the +assault of that Annia Faustina?" + +"As you please, father." + +We left the inn together by the by-road down the hill. I could not +believe my eyes. This old man with refined features who walked on my +left, leaning on his malacca cane, was M. Charnot. The same man who +received me so discourteously the day after I made my blot was now +relying on me to introduce him to an Italian nobleman; on me, a lawyer's +clerk. I led him on with confidence, and both of us, carried away by our +divers hopes, he dreaming of medals, I of the reopened horizon full of +possibilities, conversed on indifferent subjects with a freedom hitherto +unknown between us. + +And this charming Parisienne, whose presence I divined rather than saw, +whom I dared not look in the face, who stepped along by her father's +side, light of foot, her eyes seeking the vault of heaven, her ear +attentive though her thoughts were elsewhere, catching her Parisian +sunshade in the hawthorns of Desio, was Jeanne, Jeanne of the flower- +market, Jeanne whom Lampron had sketched in the woods of St. Germain! It +did not seem possible. + +Yet it was so, for we arrived together at the gates of the Villa +Dannegianti, which is hardly a mile from the inn. + +I rang the bell. The fat, idle, insolent Italian porter was beginning to +refuse me admission, with the same words and gestures which he had so +often used. But I explained, in my purest Tuscan, that I was not of the +ordinary kind of importunate tourist. I told him that he ran a serious +risk if he did not immediately hand my card and my letter--Lampron's card +in an envelope--to the Comtesse Dannegianti. + +From his stony glare I could not tell whether I had produced any +impression, nor even whether he had understood. He turned on his heel +with his keys in one hand and the letter in the other, and went on his +way through the shady avenue, rolling his broad back from side to side, +attired in a jacket which might have fitted in front, but was all too +short behind. + +The shady precincts of which Lampron wrote did not seem to have been +pruned. The park was cool and green. At the end of the avenue of plane- +trees, alternating with secular hawthorns cut into pyramids, we could see +the square mass of the villa just peeping over the immense clumps of +trees. Beyond it the tops and naked trunks of a group of umbrella pines +stood silhouetted against the sky. + +The porter returned, solemn and impassive. He opened the gate without a +word. We all passed through--M. Charnot somewhat uneasy at entering +under false pretenses, as I guessed from the way he suddenly drew up his +head. Jeanne seemed pleased; she smoothed down a fold which the wind had +raised in her frock, spread out a flounce, drew herself up, pushed back a +hairpin which her fair tresses had dragged out of its place, all in +quick, deft, and graceful movements, like a goldfinch preening its +feathers. + +We reached the terrace, and arranged that M. and Mademoiselle Charnot +should wait in an alley close at hand till I received permission to visit +the collections. + +I entered the house, and following a lackey, crossed a large mosaic-paved +hall, divided by columns of rare marbles into panels filled with mediocre +frescoes on a very large scale. At the end of this hall was the +Countess's room, which formed a striking contrast, being small, panelled +with wood, and filled with devotional knick-knacks that gave it the look +of a chapel. + +As I entered, an old lady half rose from an armchair, which she could +have used as a house, the chair was so large and she was so small. At +first I could distinguish only two bright, anxious eyes. She looked at +me like a prisoner awaiting a verdict. I began by telling her of the +death of Lampron's mother. Her only answer was an attentive nod. She +guessed something else was coming and stood on guard, so to speak. I +went on and told her that the portrait of her daughter was on its way to +her. Then she forgot everything--her age, her rank, and the mournful +reserve which had hitherto hedged her about. Her motherly heart alone +spoke within her; a ray of light had come to brighten the incurable gloom +which was killing her; she rushed toward me and fell into my arms, and I +felt against my heart her poor aged body shaking with sobs. She thanked +me in a flood of words which I did not catch. Then she drew back and +gazed at me, seeking to read in my eyes some emotion responsive to her +own, and her eyes, red and swollen and feverishly bright, questioned me +more clearly than her words. + +"How good are you, sir! and how generous is he! What life does he lead? +Has he ever lived down the sorrow which blasted his youth here? Men +forget more easily, happily for them. I had given up all hope of +obtaining the portrait. Every year I sent him flowers which meant, +'Restore to us all that is left of our dead Rafaella.' Perhaps it was +unkind. I did reproach myself at times for it. But I was her mother, +you know; the mother of that peerless girl! And the portrait is so good, +so like! He has never altered it? tell me; never retouched it? Time +has not marred the lifelike coloring? I shall now have the mournful +consolation I have so long desired; I shall always have before me the +counterpart of my lost darling, and can gaze upon that face which none +could depict save he who loved her; for, dreadful though it be to think +of, the image of the best beloved will change and fade away even in a +mother's heart, and at times I doubt whether my old memory is still +faithful, and recalls all her grace and beauty as clearly as it used to +do when the wound was fresh in my heart and my eyes were still filled +with the loveliness of her. Oh, Monsieur, Monsieur! to think that I +shall see that face once more!" + +She left me as quickly as she had come, and went to open a door on the +left, into an adjoining room, whose red hangings threw a ruddy glow upon +the polished floor. + +"Cristoforo!" she cried, "Cristoforo! come and see a French gentleman +who brings us great news. The portrait of our Rafaella, Cristoforo, the +portrait we have so long desired, is at last to be given to us!" + +I heard a chair move, and a slow footstep. Cristoforo appeared, with +white hair and black moustache, his tall figure buttoned up in an old- +fashioned frockcoat, the petrified, mummified remains of a once handsome +man. He walked up to me, took both my hands and shook them +ceremoniously. His face showed no traces of emotion; his eyes were dry, +and he had not a word to say. Did he understand? I really do not know. +He seemed to think the affair was an ordinary introduction. As I looked +at him his wife's words came back to me, "Men forget sooner." She gazed +at him as if she would put blood into his veins, where it had long ceased +to flow. + +"Cristoforo, I know this will be a great joy to you, and you will join +with me in thanking Monsieur Lampron for his generosity. You, sir, will +express to him all the Count's gratitude and my own, and also the +sympathy we feel for him in his recent loss. Besides, we shall write to +him. Is Monsieur Lampron rich?" + +"I had forgotten to tell you, Madame, that my friend will accept nothing +but thanks." + +"Ah, that is truly noble of him, is it not, Cristoforo?" + +All the answer the old Count made was to take my hands and shake them +again. + +I used the opportunity to put forward my request in behalf of M. Charnot. +He listened attentively. + +"I will give orders. You shall see everything--everything." + +Then, considering our interview at an end, he bowed and withdrew to his +own apartments. + +I looked for the Countess Dannegianti. She had sunk into her great +armchair, and was weeping hot tears. + +Ten minutes later, M. Charnot and Jeanne entered with me into the +jealously guarded museum. + +Museum was the only name to give to a collection of such artistic value, +occupying, as it did, the whole of the ground floor to the right of the +hall. Two rooms ran parallel to each other, filled with pictures, +medals, and engravings, and were connected by a narrow gallery devoted to +sculpture. + +Hardly was the door opened when M. Charnot sought the famous medals with +his eye. There they were in the middle of the room in two rows of cases. +He was deeply moved. I thought he was about to make a raid upon them, +attracted after his kind by the 'auri sacra fames', by the yellow gleam +of those ancient coins, the names, family, obverse and reverse of which +he knew by heart. But I little understood the enthusiast. + +He drew out his handkerchief and spectacles, and while he was wiping the +glasses he gave a rapid and impatient glance at the works that adorned +the walls. None of them could charm the numismatist's heart. After he +had enjoyed the pleasure of proving how feeble in comparison were the +charms of a Titian or a Veronese, then only did M. Charnot walk step by +step to the first case and bend reverently over it. + +Yet the collection of paintings was unworthy of such disdain. The +pictures were few, but all were signed with great names, most of them +Italian, a few Dutch, Flemish, or German. I began to work systematically +through them, pleased at the want of a catalogue and the small number of +inscriptions on the frames. To be your own guide doubles your pleasure; +you can get your impression of a picture entirely at first hand; you are +filled with admiration without any one having told you that you are bound +to go into ecstasies. You can work out for yourself from a picture, by +induction and comparison, its subject, its school, and its author, unless +it proclaims, in every stroke of the brush, "I am a Hobbema," +"a Perugino," or "a Giotto." + +I was somewhat distracted, however, by the voice of the old numismatist, +as he peered into the cases, and constrained his daughter to share in the +exuberance of his learned enthusiasm. + +"Jeanne, look at this; crowned head of Cleopatra, Mark Antony on the +reverse; in perfect condition, isn't it? See, an Italian 'as-Iguvium +Umbriae', which my friend Pousselot has sought these thirty years! Oh, +my dear, this is important: Annius Verus on the reverse of Commodus, both +as children, a rare example--yet not as rare as--Jeanne, you must engrave +this gold medal in your heart, it is priceless: head of Augustus with +laurel, Diana walking on the reverse. You ought to take an interest in +her. Diana the fair huntress. + +This collection is heavenly! Wait a minute; we shall soon come to the +Annia Faustina." + +Jeanne made no objection, but smiled softly upon the Cleopatra, the +Umbrian 'as', and the fair huntress. + +Little by little her father's enthusiasm expanded over the vast +collection of treasures. He took out his pocketbook and began to make +notes. Jeanne raised her eyes to the walls, took one glance, then a +second, and, not being called back to the medals, stepped softly up to +the picture at which I had begun. + +She went quickly from one to another having evidently no more than a +child's untutored taste for pictures. As I, on the contrary, was getting +on very slowly, she was bound to overtake me. You may be sure I took no +steps to prevent it, and so in a very short time we were both standing +before the same picture, a portrait of Holbein the younger. A subject of +conversation was ready to hand. + +"Mademoiselle," said I, "do you like this Holbein?" + +"You must admit, sir, that the old gentleman is exceedingly plain." + +"Yes, but the painting is exquisite. See how powerful is the drawing of +the head, how clear and deep the colors remain after more than three +hundred years. What a good likeness it must have been! The subject +tells his own story: he must have been a nobleman of the court of Henry +VIII, a Protestant in favor with the King, wily but illiterate, +and wishing from the bottom of his heart that he were back with the +companions of his youth at home in his country house, hunting and +drinking at his ease. It is really the study of a man's character. +Look at this Rubens beside it, a mere mass of flesh scarcely held +together by a spirit, a style that is exuberantly material, all color and +no expression. Here you have spirituality on one side and materialism on +the other, unconscious, perhaps, but unmistakable. Compare, again, +with these two pictures this little drawing, doubtless by Perugino, +just a sketch of an angel for an Annunciation; notice the purity of +outline, the ideal atmosphere in which the painter lives and with which +he impregnates his work. You see he comes of a school of poets and +mystics, gifted with a second sight which enabled them to beautify this +world and raise themselves above it." + +I was pleased with my little lecture, and so was Jeanne. I could tell it +by her surprised expression, and by the looks she cast toward her father, +who was still taking notes, to see whether she might go on with her first +lesson in art. + +He smiled in a friendly way, which meant: + +"I'm happy here, my dear, thank you; 'va piano va sano'." + +This was as good as permission. We went on our way, saluting, as we +passed, Tintoretto and Titian, Veronese and Andrea Solari, old Cimabue, +and a few early paintings of angular virgins on golden backgrounds. + +Jeanne was no longer bored. + +"And is this," she would say, "another Venetian, or a Lombard, or a +Florentine?" + +We soon completed the round of the first room, and made our way into the +gallery beyond, devoted to sculpture. The marble gods and goddesses, +the lovely fragments of frieze or cornice from the excavations at Rome, +Pompeii, or Greece, had but a moderate interest for Mademoiselle Charnot. +She never gave more than one glance to each statue, to some none at all. + +We soon came to the end of the gallery, and the door which gave access +into the second room of paintings. + +Suddenly Jeanne gave an exclamation of surprise. + +"What is that?" she said. + +Beneath the large and lofty window, fanned on the outside by leafy +branches, a wooden panel, bearing an inscription, stood upright against +the wall. The words were painted in black on a white ground, and +arranged with considerable skill, after the style of the classic epitaphs +which the Italians still cultivate. + +I drew aside the folds of a curtain: + +"It is one of those memorial tablets, Mademoiselle, such as people hang +up in this part of the country upon the church doors on the day of the +funeral. It means: + +"To thee, Rafaella Dannegianti--who, aged twenty years and few months-- +having fully experienced the sorrows and illusions of this world--on +January 6--like an angel longing for its heavenly home--didst wing thy +way to God in peace and happiness--the clergy of Desioand the laborers +and artificers of the noble house of Dannegianti--tender these last +solemn offices." + +"This Rafaella, then, was the Count's daughter?" + +"His only child, a girl lovely and gracious beyond rivalry." + +"Oh, of course, beyond rivalry. Are not all only daughters lovely and +perfect when once they are dead?" she replied with a bitter smile. +"They have their legend, their cult, and usually a flattering portrait. +I am surprised that Rafaella's is not here. I imagine her portrait as +representing a tall girl, with long, well-arched eyebrows, and brown +eyes--" + +"Greenish-brown." + +"Green, if you prefer it; a small nose, cherry lips, and a mass of light +brown hair." + +"Golden brown would be more correct." + +"Have you seen it, then? Is there one?" + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, and it lacks no perfection that you could imagine, +not even that smile of happy youth which was a falsehood ere the paint +had yet dried on the canvas. Here, before this relic, which recalls it +to my thoughts, I must confess that I am touched." + +She looked at me in astonishment. + +"Where is the portrait? Not here?" + +"No, it is at Paris, in my friend Lampron's studio." + +"O--oh!" She blushed slightly. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, it is at once a masterpiece and a sad reminder. The +story is very simple, and I am sure my friend would not mind my telling +it to you--to you if to no other--before these relics of the past. + +"When Lampron was a young man travelling in Italy he fell in love with +this young girl, whose portrait he was painting. He loved her, perhaps +without confessing it to himself, certainly without avowing it to her. +Such is the way of timid and humble men of heart, men whose love is +nearly always misconstrued when it ceases to be unnoticed. My friend +risked the happiness of his life, fearlessly, without calculation--and +lost it. A day came when Rafaella Dannegianti was carried off by her +parents, who shuddered at the thought of her stooping to a painter, even +though he were a genius." + +"So she died?" + +"A year later. He never got over it. Even while I speak to you, he in +his loneliness is pondering and weeping over these very lines which you +have just read without a suspicion of the depth of their bitterness." + +"He has known bereavement," said she; "I pity him with all my heart." + +Her eyes filled with tears. She repeated the words, whose meaning was +now clear to her, "A to Rafaella." Then she knelt down softly before the +mournful inscription. I saw her bow her head. Jeanne was praying. + +It was touching to see the young girl, whom chance had placed before this +simple testimony of a sorrow now long past, deeply moved by the sad tale +of love, filled with tender pity for the dead Rafaella, her fellow in +youth and beauty and perhaps in destiny, finding in her heart the tender +impulse to kneel without a word, as if beside the grave of a friend. The +daylight's last rays streaming in through the window illumined her bowed +head. + +I drew back, with a touch of awe. + +M. Charnot appeared. + +He went up to his daughter and tapped her on the shoulder. She rose with +a blush. + +"What are you doing there?" he said. + +Then he adjusted his glasses and read the Italian inscription. + +"You really take unnecessary trouble in kneeling down to decipher a thing +like that. You can see at once that it's a modern panel, and of no +value. Monsieur," he added, turning to me, "I do not know what your +plans are, but unless you intend to sleep at Desio, we must be off, for +the night is falling." + +We left the villa. + +Out of doors it was still light, but with the afterglow. The sun was out +of sight, but the earth was still enveloped, as it were, in a haze of +luminous dust. + +M. Charnot pulled out his watch. + +"Seven minutes past eight. What time does the last train start, Jeanne?" + +"At ten minutes to eight." + +"Confusion! we are stranded in Desio! The mere thought of passing the +night in that inn gives me the creeps. I see no way out of it unless +Monsieur Mouillard can get us one of the Count's state coaches. There +isn't a carriage to be got in this infernal village!" + +"There is mine, Monsieur, which luckily holds four, and is quite at your +service." + +"Upon my word, I am very much obliged to you. The drive by moonlight +will be quite romantic." + +He drew near to Jeanne and whispered in her ear: + +"Are you sure you've wraps enough? a shawl, or a cape, or some kind of +pelisse?" + +She gave a merry nod of assent. + +"Don't worry yourself, father; I am prepared for all emergencies." + +At half-past eight we left Desio together, and I silently blessed the +host of the Albergo dell' Agnello, who had assured me that the carriage +road was "so much more picturesque." I found it so, indeed. + +M. Charnot and Jeanne faced the horses. I sat opposite to M. Charnot, +who was in the best of spirits after all the medals he had seen. +Comfortably settled in the cushions, careless of the accidents of the +road, with graphic and untiring forefinger, he undertook to describe his +travels in Greece, whither he had been sent on some learned enterprise by +the Minister of Education, and had carried an imagination already +prepossessed and dazzled with Homeric visions. He told his story well +and with detail, combining the recollections of the scholar with the +impressions of an artist. The pediment of the Parthenon, the oleanders +of the Ilissus, the stream "that runs in rain-time," the naked peak of +Parnassus, the green slopes of Helicon, the blue gulf of Argus, the pine +forest beside Alpheus, where the ancients worshipped "Death the Gentle"-- +all of them passed in recount upon his learned lips. + +I must acknowledge, to my shame, that I did not listen to all he said, +but, in a favorite way I have, reserved some of my own freedom of +thought, while I gave him complete freedom of speech. And I am bound to +say he did not abuse it, but consented to pause at the frontiers of +Thessaly. Then followed silence. I gave him room to stretch. Soon, +lulled by the motion of the carriage, the stream of reminiscence ran more +slowly--then ran dry. M. Charnot slept. + +We bowled at a good pace, without jolting, over the white road. A warm +mist rose around us laden with the smell of vegetation, ripe corn, and +clover from the overheated earth and the neighboring fields, which had +drunk their full of sunlight. Now and again a breath of fresh air was +blown to us from the mountains. As the darkness deepened the country +grew to look like a vast chessboard, with dark and light squares of grass +and corn land, melting at no great distance into a colorless and unbroken +horizon. But as night blotted out the earth, the heaven lighted up its +stars. Never have I seen them so lustrous nor in such number. Jeanne +reclined with her eyes upturned toward those limitless fields of prayer +and vision; and their radiance, benignly gentle, rested on her face. Was +she tired or downcast, or merely dreaming? I knew not. But there was +something so singularly poetic in her look and attitude that she seemed +to me to epitomize in herself all the beauty of the night. + +I was afraid to speak. Her father's sleep, and our consequent isolation, +made me ill at ease. She, too, seemed so careless of my presence, so far +away in dreamland, that I had to await opportunity, or rather her leave, +to recall her from it. + +Finally she broke the silence herself. A little beyond Monza she drew +closer her shawl, that the night wind had ruffled, and bent over toward +me: + +"You must excuse my father; he is rather tired this evening, for he has +been on his feet since five o'clock." + +"The day has been so hot, too, Mademoiselle, and the medals 'came not in +single spies, but in battalions'; he has a right to sleep after the +battle." + +"Dear old father! You gave him a real treat, for which he will always be +obliged to you." + +"I trust the recollection of to-day will efface that of the blot of ink, +for which I am still filled with remorse." + +"Remorse is rather a serious word." + +"No, Mademoiselle, I really mean remorse, for I wounded the feelings of a +gentleman who has every claim on my respect. I never have dared to speak +of this before. But if you would be kind enough to tell Monsieur Charnot +how sorry I have been for it, you would relieve me of a burden." + +I saw her eyes fixed upon me for a moment with a look of attention not +previously granted to me. She seemed pleased. + +"With all my heart," she said. + +There was a moment's silence. + +"Was this Rafaella, whose story you have told me, worthy of your friend's +long regret?" + +"I must believe so." + +"It is a very touching story. Are you fond of Monsieur Lampron?" + +"Beyond expression, Mademoiselle; he is so openhearted, so true a friend, +he has the soul of the artist and the seer. I am sure you would rate him +very highly if you knew him." + +"But I do know him, at least by his works. Where am I to be seen now, +by the way? What has become of my portrait?" + +"It's at Lampron's house, in his mother's room, where Monsieur Charnot +can go and see it if he likes." + +"My father does not know of its existence," she said, with a glance at +the slumbering man of learning. + +"Has he not seen it?" + +"No, he would have made so much ado about nothing. So Monsieur Lampron +has kept the sketch? I thought it had been sold long ago." + +"Sold! you did not think he would sell it!" + +"Why not? Every artist has the right to sell his works." + +"Not work of that kind." + +"Just as much as any other kind." + +"No, he could not have done that. He would no more sell it than he would +sell the portrait of Rafaella Dannegianti. They are two similar relics, +two precious reminiscences." + +Mademoiselle Charnot turned, without a reply, to look at the country +which was flying past us in the darkness. + +I could just see her profile, and the nervous movement of her eyelids. + +As she made no attempt to speak, her silence emboldened me. + +"Yes, Mademoiselle, two similar relics, yet sometimes in my hours of +madness--as to-day, for instance, here, with you near me--I dare to think +that I might be less unfortunate than my friend--that his dream is gone +forever--but that mine might return to me--if you were willing." + +She quickly turned toward me, and in the darkness I saw her eyes fixed on +mine. + +Did the darkness deceive me as to the meaning of this mute response? Was +I the victim of a fresh delusion? I fancied that Jeanne looked sad, that +perhaps she was thinking of the oaths sworn only to be broken by her +former lover, but that she was not quite displeased. + +However, it lasted only for a second. When she spoke, it was in a higher +key: + +"Don't you think the breeze is very fresh this evening?" + +A long-drawn sigh came from the back part of the carriage. M. Charnot +was waking up. + +He wished to prove that he had only been meditating. + +"Yes, my dear, it's a charming evening," he replied; "these Italian +nights certainly keep up their reputation." + +Ten minutes later the carriage drew up, and M. Charnot shook hands with +me before the door of his hotel. + +"Many thanks, my dear young sir, for this delightful drive home! I hope +we shall meet again. We are off to Florence to-morrow; is there anything +I can do for you there?" + +"No, thank you." + +Mademoiselle Charnot gave me a slight bow. I watched her mount the first +few steps of the staircase, with one hand shading her eyes from the glare +of the gaslights, and the other holding up her wraps, which had come +unfolded and were falling around her. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Came not in single spies, but in battalions +Men forget sooner +Skilful actor, who apes all the emotions while feeling none +Sorrows shrink into insignificance as the horizon broadens +Surprise goes for so much in what we admire +To be your own guide doubles your pleasure +You must always first get the tobacco to burn evenly + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Ink Stain, v2 +by Rene Bazin + diff --git a/3973.zip b/3973.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe6e262 --- /dev/null +++ b/3973.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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