by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER IV
While the ensnared conspirators against the state were receivingsentence in one district of Paris, in another district the inhabitantswere entertaining themselves.
Paris does not mourn very long. Paris is like the earth: one half of itis always illumined by the sun. On this fateful evening the incroyablesand the merveilleuses were amusing themselves within the walls of thePalace of Narcissus.
The members of Cythera's Brigade took great pains to make outsidersbelieve that they never troubled themselves about that half of the worldwhich was in shadow--that half called politics.
In the salon of the fascinating Countess Themire Dealba not a word washeard relating to affairs of state. The beautiful women who were bandedtogether to learn the secrets which threatened the present order ofgovernment worked in an imperceptible manner. They did not belong to theordinary class of spies--those who collect every ill-natured word, everytrifling occurrence of the street. No, indeed! _They_ did nothing butamuse themselves. They were merry society women, trusty friends andconfidantes. They moved in the best circles; no one ever saw themexchange a word with a police commissioner. If any one in the companyhappened to speak of anything even remotely connected with politics,some one quickly changed the subject to a more innocent theme; and if astranger chanced to mention so delicate a matter as, say, the dinnerwhich had been given by the emperor's nephew at Very's, which costseventy-five thousand francs, while forty thousand laborers werestarving, then the witty Countess Themire herself turned theconversation to the "toilet rivalry" between the Mesdames Tallien andRecamier.
On this particular evening the Countess Dealba was discussing thebeauties of the latest opera with a few of her most intimate friends,when the Marquis de Fervlans approached, and, bending over her,whispered: "I must see you alone; find an opportunity to leave the room,and join me in the conservatory."
At that time it was the fashion to clothe children in garments similarto those worn by their elders. A company of little ones, therefore,looked like an assemblage of Lilliputian merveilleuses and incroyables.The little men and women also accompanied their mamas to receptions andthe theatre, where they joined in the conversation, danced vis-a-viswith their elders, made witty remarks, criticized the toilets and theplay, gave an opinion as to whether Hardy's confections or those ofRiches were the better, and if it were safe to depend on the friendshipof the Czar Alexander.
In this company of little ones the Countess Amelie was, beyond a doubt,the most conspicuous.
One could not have imagined anything more interesting or entertainingthan the manner of this miniature dame when left by her mama to do thehonors of the house. The dignity with which the child performed herduties was enchanting. She understood perfectly how to entertain hermother's guests, how to spice her conversation with piquant anecdotes,how to mimic the manner of affected personages. She was, in a word, aprodigy!
Countess Themire, knowing she might safely trust her little daughter toperform the duties of hostess, followed De Fervlans to the conservatory.
"We have been outwitted," he began at once. "They vanished twelve hoursbefore we learned that they had flown."
The countess shrugged her shoulders and tossed her head.
"Why do you think it necessary to tell me this?" she inquired, with atouch of asperity. "Have you not got enough police to arrest thefugitives, who must pass through the entire country in their flight?"
"Yes, we have quite enough spies, and they are very skilful; but thefugitives are a trifle more skilful. They have disguised themselves soeffectually that it is impossible to trace them. They seized a publiccoach by force, changed the number on it, and sent it back from theboundary by an accomplice, who left it in the Rue Muffetard. Even shouldwe succeed in tracing their flight, by the time we discovered them theywould have crossed the boundary of Switzerland, or would be sailing overthe ocean. No; we must begin all over again. There is but one expedient:_you_ must travel in search of the fugitives, and bring them back."
"I go in search of them and bring them back?" repeated the countess, ina startled tone.
"The first part of your task will not be so difficult," continued DeFervlans. "The imprisoned marquis will not reveal the destination of thefugitives; but we have learned, through your clever little daughter,that they have gone to a country where there is order, but where thereare no police. That, methinks, is not a very difficult riddle to solve.You need only journey from place to place until you find such a country.The fugitives will be certain to betray themselves by their secrecy,and I have not the least doubt but your search will be rewarded beforethe year is out. For one year you shall have the command of threehundred thousand francs. When you discover the fugitives you will knowvery well what to do. The man is young and an enthusiast--an easyconquest, I should fancy; and when you have ensnared him the maid's fateis decided. We want the man, the maid, and the steel casket; any one ofthe three, however, will be of great value to us. You will keep usadvised as to your progress, and we, of course, will assist you all wecan. You know that we have secret agents all over Europe. And now, youwill do well to prepare for an immediate departure; there is not amoment to be lost."
"But good, heavens! how can I take Amelie on such a journey?"
"You are not to take her with you--of what are you thinking? That manhas already seen the child, and would recognize her at once."
"You surely cannot mean that I am to desert my daughter?"
"Don't you think Amelie will be in safe hands if you leave her in _my_care?" asked De Fervlans, with a glance that would have made any one whohad not heard his words believe he was making a declaration of love."Besides, it will not be the first time you leave her to the care ofanother."
"That is true," sighed the countess; "I ought to be accustomed toparting with her. Have not I trusted her to the care of a police spy?and all for my own advantage! Oh, what a wretched profession I havechosen for myself and my child!"
"A profession that yields a handsome income, madame," supplemented themarquis, a trifle sharply. "You ought not to complain. Surely theregime is not to blame that you married a roue, who squandered yourfortune, and then was killed in a duel about a rope-dancer, leaving youa clever little daughter and a half-million of debts! What else couldyou have done to have earned a living for yourself and child?"
"I might have sent the child to a foundling asylum, and soughtemployment for myself in the gobelin factory. It would have been betterhad I done so!"
"I doubt it, countess. The path of virtue is only for those womenwho--have large feet! You are too fairy-like, and would have found theway too rough. It is much better, believe me, to serve the state. Whatwould you? Is there not a comforting word due to the conscience of thesoldier who has killed a fellow-being in the interest of his country?Don't you suppose his heart aches when he looks upon the death-strugglesof the man he has killed without having a personal grudge against him?We are all soldiers of the state. When we assault an enemy, we do notinquire if we hurt him; we kill him! and the safety of our fatherlandhallows the deed."
"But that which we are doing is immoral," interposed the countess.
"And that which our enemy is doing is not immoral, I presume? Are nottheir beautiful women, their polished courtiers, acting as spies in oursalons? We are only using their own weapons against them."
"That may be; but it was a repulsive thought that prompted the using ofchildren as instruments in this deadly game."
"Were not they the first to set us an example? Was not it a repulsivethought which prompted them to hold over the heads of an entire peoplethat hellish machine of torture in the shape of a smiling child? No,madame; we need not be ashamed of what we are doing. Our men areengaged in warfare against their men; our lovely women are engaged inwarfare against their lovely women; and our little children are engagedin warfare against their little children. Your little Amelie is ahistorical figure, and deserves a monument."
The marquis, perceiving that his sophistry was not without it
s effect onthe lovely woman, continued:
"And then, madame, if you are weary of the role you and your littledaughter are playing with such success, the opportunity is now offeredto you to quit your present mode of life. Your financial affairs areutterly ruined; you are only the nominal possessor of the estate youinherited from your ancestors. If you succeed in the task which you areabout to undertake, the entire sum of money, the interest of which youreceive annually, becomes your own. Five millions of francs deserve somesacrifice. With this sum you can become an independent woman, and yourdaughter will never be reproached with having been, in her childhood, amember of Cythera's Brigade."
Countess Themire deliberated a few moments; then she asked:
"May I not kiss my daughter farewell?"
"Leave your kiss with me, and I will deliver it faithfully!" smilinglyresponded the marquis.
"How can you jest at such a moment? Suppose my absence lasts a longtime?"
"That is very probable."
"Am I not even to hear from my child--not even to let her know that I amliving?"
"Certainly, countess; you may communicate with her through me. Moreover,it rests with yourself how soon you will return. Until that time itshall be my pleasure to take care of Amelie; you may rest in peace as tothat!"
"Yes; she could not be in worse hands than in those of her mother!"bitterly rejoined the countess. "The first letter, then, must be one offarewell."
She rose, went into her boudoir, and wrote on a sheet of paper:
"MY DEAR CHILD: I am compelled to take a journey. I shall write to you when I am ready to return. Until then, I leave you to perform the duties of hostess, and intrust my money-chest to your care. I embrace you a thousand times.
"Your old friend and little mama,
"THEMIRE."
She folded and sealed the letter, and handed it to De Fervlans.
"I shall be sure to deliver it," he said. "And now, send Jocrisse for afiacre; you must not use your own carriage for this. You can leave thepalace unperceived by the garden gate. Speak German wherever you go, andremember that you do not understand a word of French. I think you wouldbetter begin your search in Switzerland. And now, adieu, madame, untilwe meet again--"
"If only I might take one last look at my little daughter!" pleadinglyinterrupted the countess.
"Themire! You are actually beginning to grow sentimental. That does notbecome a soldier!"
"Had I suspected this," returned Themire, "I would not have givenAmelie's portrait to M. Cambray in that ridiculous farce. I wonder if Imight not get it from him?"
"No; he will not part with it; he says he is going to keep it as atalisman. Only M. Sanson has the privilege of relieving prisoners oftheir trinkets, and Cambray is still far enough from Sanson's reach! Ishall have another portrait painted of Amelie, and send it to you."
"But this picture was painted while yet she was an innocent child."
"Upon my word, madame, you are as sentimental as a professor's daughter!I begin to fear you will not accomplish your mission--that you will endby falling in love with the man you are to capture for us, and betray usto him."
Themire did not say another word, but hurried into her dressing-room.
De Fervlans wrote an order for one hundred and fifty thousand francs forthe Countess Themire Dealba for the first six months, added his wishesfor a pleasant and successful journey, then returned to the salon, wherehe gave the missive which had been intrusted to his care to Jocrisse.
Jocrisse placed it on a silver tray, and presented it to the tiny ladyof the house.
"Pray allow me, ladies and gentlemen," said the Lilliputian _grandedame_, as she broke the seal, "to read this letter--although I am onlyjust learning the alphabet!"
There were a number of persons in the company who understood and enjoyedthe concluding words.
The little countess lifted her gold-rimmed lorgnette to her eyes, andread her mother's letter.
She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and opened wide her blueeyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she proceeded to explain, "mama has been calledsuddenly away. She sends her greetings to you" (this was not in theletter, but the little diplomatist thought it best to atone for hermama's neglect) "until she returns, which will be very soon" (this alsowas a thought of her own). "I am to fulfil the duties of lady of thehouse."
Then she turned toward De Fervlans, and whispered, holding thelorgnette in front of her lips:
"Mama leaves her money-chest in my care"--adding, with naive sarcasm,"which means that she has left me to battle with her creditors."
