by Eugène Sue
“No, I assure you, his presumption excites my deepest indignation. A fellow like Macreuse to have such pretensions and perhaps be able to realise them, a man who from my school-days has always inspired me with both loathing and aversion! And this poor Mlle. de Beaumesnil whom I do not even know, but who becomes interesting in my eyes the minute she is in danger of becoming the wife of that rascal, — really I have half a mind to marry her myself, if only to spoil Macreuse’s plans and save the poor little thing from that villain’s clutches.”
“Oh, Gerald, my son,” cried the duchess, “your marriage would make me the happiest of mothers!”
“But — my liberty — my precious liberty!”
“But, Gerald, think of it, — with one of the most illustrious names in France, and then to become the richest and greatest landowner in France! Think of the power this immense fortune will give combined with a position like yours, my dear Gerald.”
“Yes, that is so,” answered Gerald, reflectively, “but think of me, too, condemned to a life of ennui, and silk hose every evening henceforth and for ever. Besides, remember those dear girls who love me so devotedly; for, having the good fortune to be young and poor, I am forced to believe that their love is entirely disinterested.”
“But, my dear,” insisted the duchess, urged on in spite of herself by her ambition to see her son make this wealthy marriage, “perhaps you exaggerate the requirements of duty too much. Because you are married is no reason—”
“Oh, mother, mother, to think I should ever hear you recommending laxity of morals after marriage!”
“You misunderstand my meaning entirely, my son,” replied Madame de Senneterre, considerably embarrassed. “I didn’t say anything of the kind. If I insist, it is not only to inspire you with a desire to supplant this abominable man, but also for humanity’s sake, so to speak.”
“Humanity’s sake?”
“Certainly, that poor little Mlle. de Beaumesnil would positively die of grief and despair if she is forced to live with such a monster. It would be a most generous and commendable act to save her from him.”
“Really, mother, I expect to hear you say in a minute or two that I shall deserve the Monthyon prize, if I contract this marriage.”
“Yes, if the Monthyon prize is to be awarded to the son who makes his mother the happiest of women,” replied Madame de Senneterre, looking up at Gerald with eyes full of tears.
Gerald loved his mother so devotedly that the emotion she manifested touched the young duke deeply, and he said, with a smile:
“Ah, what a dangerous thing a mother is! She seems to be quite capable of marrying you to the heiress of millions, even against your will, especially when there is danger that a scoundrel like Macreuse may be converted into a millionaire. The fact is, the more I think of it the more pleased I am at the idea of circumventing this hypocrite. What a blow it would be to him! But there is one difficulty, my dear mother, and it strikes me that I am a little late in thinking of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am by no means sure that I should please Mlle. de Beaumesnil.”
“You will only have to try to succeed in doing it, I am sure, my dear Gerald.”
“A true mother’s view of the matter.”
“I know you better than most people, perhaps.”
“You are not capable of giving an opinion on the matter, I see. Your affection blinds you, but I forgive you.”
“Leave the matter to me, Gerald. Only consent to be guided by me, and see if I don’t conduct the affair to a successful termination.”
“Do you know that one would take you for an inveterate match-maker if one didn’t know you,” said Gerald, gaily. “But all mothers are alike in one respect, when their children’s interests are at stake they become positive tigresses and lionesses. Very well, whatever your will may be I resign myself to it blindly.”
“My dear, good Gerald,” cried the delighted duchess, positively weeping with joy; “you cannot imagine how happy you have made me. That wretched Macreuse will die of spite.”
“That is so, mother. I shall give him the jaundice instead of the sword-thrust he would have declined to take.”
“Now, Gerald, let us talk the matter over sensibly.”
“So be it. I am listening.”
“As you have made up your mind, it is of the utmost importance that you should see Mlle. de Beaumesnil as soon as possible.”
“Very well.”
“This first interview, you must understand, is of great importance.”
“Unquestionably.”
“The fact is so apparent that I had a long talk with Mesdames de Mirecourt and de la Rochaiguë upon the subject this morning. From what the latter lady is able to judge of Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s character, this is the plan we think most expedient; but you shall judge for yourself, Gerald.”
“Very well, let me hear it.”
“We recognised from the first the impossibility of representing you as a serious-minded and settled man—”
“And you showed your good sense, for I should have proved you a set of base deceivers only too soon,” retorted Gerald, laughing.
“Of course there is no hope of avoiding the many censorious remarks which the frivolity of your conduct seems to justify, my poor Gerald, so the best thing we can do is to make everything that is said against you redound to your credit as much as possible.”
“Only mothers could show themselves such clever diplomatists as that.”
“Fortunately, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, judging from what Madame de la Rochaiguë says, — she talked with the girl awhile last evening, and the mind of a child of sixteen is not difficult to read, — fortunately, Ernestine de Beaumesnil seems to be very fond of luxury, splendour, and display, so we think it advisable that you should first appear before her in the character of one of the most elegant young men in Paris.”
“If you are clever enough to find such an opportunity, I consent, I am sure.”
“It is to-morrow afternoon, is it not, that you are to take part in that race in the Bois de Boulogne?”
“Yes, I promised that ninny, De Courville, who has a number of fine horses he is afraid to mount himself, that I would ride his horse, ‘Young Emperor,’ in the hurdle race.”
“Capital! Madame de la Rochaiguë shall take Mlle. de Beaumesnil to the race. They will call for me, and as soon as we reach the Bois it will seem the most natural thing in the world that you should come up and talk with us before the racing begins. Your jockey costume of orange satin with black velvet trimmings is extremely becoming to you.”
“One word, if you please, my dear mother.”
“Let me finish, please. Mlle. de Beaumesnil will see you among a crowd of fashionable young men, in which you shine preëminent, every one must admit. And, then, I don’t doubt that you will win the race. It is absolutely necessary that you should win it, Gerald.”
“It is the general opinion, mother, that the ‘Young Emperor’ and I will come out ahead, but—”
“You certainly ride superbly,” said the duchess, again interrupting her son; “and when Ernestine sees you excelling your competitors in the midst of frantic applause, there can be very little doubt that, upon one with the tastes and character she seems to have, the impression produced will be excellent; and if, after this first meeting, you make yourself as agreeable as you can be when you choose, that impudent Macreuse will appear odious in her eyes even if he should have the audacity to enter the lists.”
“May I be allowed to say a word now, my dear mother?”
“Certainly.”
“I see no objection to being introduced by you to Mlle. de Beaumesnil at a race in the Bois de Boulogne; but do you really think it advisable that the presentation should take place on a day that I am arrayed in the garb of a jockey?”
“But why not? I am sure the costume is extremely becoming to you.”
“It seems to me to savour too much of an actor.”
“Really, Ger
ald, you have the most peculiar ideas.”
“No, no, my dear mother, it is you who have such ideas, without suspecting it. But, seriously, you can present me to Mlle. de Beaumesnil where you please, when you please, and as you please, either afoot or on horseback, — you are at liberty to choose, you see. But I will not have recourse to the fascinations of a jockey’s costume. I don’t need them,” added Gerald, with a comical affectation of extreme complacency. “I shall dazzle and fascinate Mlle. de Beaumesnil by a host of admirable moral and conjugal qualities.”
“Really, Gerald, you are incorrigible. You can not treat even the most important things seriously.”
“What does that matter, provided the things are accomplished?”
The conversation between the duchess and her son was interrupted a second time by a valet who announced that the Baron de Ravil wished to see M. le duc on very important business, and that he was now waiting in the apartments of M. le duc.
“Very well,” said Gerald, though he was greatly surprised at this visit.
After the valet withdrew, the duchess said to her son:
“What business can you have with M. de Ravil? I can not bear the man. He is received everywhere, though, and I must confess that I set the example as much as any one, without really knowing why I do it.”
“The explanation is very simple. His father was a very popular man. He introduced his son into the same social circle in which he himself moved, and, once admitted, Ravil, the younger, continued to be received. I, too, dislike him thoroughly. I have not seen him since the day of that strange duel between the marquis and M. de Mornand, and I have no idea what he can want with me. By the way, I heard an anecdote yesterday that shows his real character, perfectly. A poor fellow who is not very well off in this world’s goods obligingly opened his purse to Ravil, and this is the way Ravil repaid him for his kindness: ‘Where the devil did the fool steal that two hundred louis he loaned to me?’ he exclaimed in the presence of a number of acquaintances afterward.”
“How shameful!” cried the duchess.
“I will go and see what he has to say,” remarked Gerald. “The man always seems to know everything that is going on. Wait for me, though, my dear mother. In a few minutes I may return as enthusiastic in regard to this cynical personage as you were exasperated against Macreuse.”
“That is very ungenerous in you, Gerald.”
“Well, at least admit that you and I are not very fortunate in our callers, this morning, my dear mother.”
And M. de Senneterre hurried off to join the baron.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A PURELY BUSINESS TRANSACTION.
GERALD GREETED M. de Ravil with a cold politeness which did not disconcert his guest in the least, however.
“To what am I to attribute the honour of your visit?” asked Gerald, dryly, without sitting down himself or requesting his visitor to be seated.
The baron, apparently entirely indifferent to this cool reception, replied:
“M. le duc, I came to call your attention to a very promising business matter.”
“I am not in business.”
“Would you like to marry, M. le duc?”
“Monsieur,” said Gerald, haughtily, “this question—”
“Excuse me, M. le duc, I called here in your interest, and necessarily, also, in my own. Will you consequently have the kindness to listen to me? What do you risk by doing so? I ask only ten minutes.”
“I am listening, monsieur,” replied Gerald, whose curiosity had been aroused by the baron’s question.
“I ask once more, then, M. le duc: ‘Would you like to marry?’ I must have a reply before continuing the conversation.”
“But monsieur, I—”
“Pardon me, I did not make my question explicit enough. Would you like to make a fabulously rich marriage, M. le duc?”
“Has M. de Ravil any particular person in view?”
“Possibly.”
“But you are a bachelor and a society man. Why do you not marry the lady yourself?”
“I have no fortune, monsieur; my name is comparatively insignificant; my appearance by no means prepossessing. In short, there isn’t the slightest chance of my making such a marriage, so I thought of you, M. le duc.”
“I am greatly obliged to you for your generosity, monsieur, but before we go any further, permit me to ask you a rather delicate question. I would not like to wound your feelings, you know, but—”
“I’m not at all sensitive.”
“I thought as much. Ah, well, what remuneration do you expect for your generous interest?”
“I ask one and a half per cent. of the dowry,” answered the cynic, boldly.
And perceiving the disgust and contempt which his words had excited, the baron said, coolly:
“I thought I gave you clearly to understand that it was a purely business transaction.”
“That is true, monsieur.”
“Then what is the use of mincing matters?”
“None at all,” replied Gerald, controlling himself; “so I will say very plainly that this charge of one and a half per cent. of the dowry seems to me quite reasonable.”
“Yes, isn’t it?”
“Certainly, but I must know to whom you think of marrying me, and how you will manage to bring the match about.”
“You are very fond of hunting, I believe, M. le duc.”
“Yes.”
“And you are an adept at it, I am told.”
“Yes.”
“Well, when your pointer or your setter have made a sure stand, they have done their duty, have they not? The rest depends upon the accuracy of your aim and the quickness of your fire.”
“If you mean by that, monsieur, that, when you have once told me there is a rich heiress in the market, your one and a half per cent. is earned, I—”
“Pardon me, M. le duc, I am too good a business man to come to you with any such proposition as that. In short, I stand ready to place you in a position which is not only admirable in every respect, but entirely inaccessible to any other person. Your own personal attractions and your illustrious name will easily do the rest.”
“And this position?”
“You must know, M. le duc, that I am not green enough to tell you my secret before you have given me your word as a gentleman that—”
“M. de Ravil,” said Gerald, interrupting the scoundrel whom he was strongly tempted to kick out of the house, “this jesting has lasted quite long enough.”
“What jesting, M. le duc?”
“You must understand that I cannot consider such a proposition seriously. Wed under your auspices, — that would be a little too ridiculous.”
“You refuse, then!”
“I have that honour.”
“Reflect, M. le duc. Remember that saying of Talleyrand—”
“You quote Talleyrand very often.”
“He is my teacher, M. le duc.”
“And you do him honour. But to what saying of the great diplomatist do you refer?”
“This, M. le duc: ‘One should always distrust one’s first impulse, because it is usually a good one.’ The saying is a wise one. Profit by it.”
“Ah, monsieur, you little know how much truth there is in what you say, and how extremely apropos it is, so far as you are concerned.”
“Indeed?”
“I accepted your counsel in advance, for if I had yielded to the first impulse which your proposition inspired, I — I should have—”
“Should have done what, M. le duc?”
“You are too shrewd not to suspect what it was, my dear baron, and I am too polite — to tell you — in my own house.”
“Pardon me, M. le duc, but I have no time to waste in guessing riddles. So you refuse my offer?”
“Yes.”
“One word more, M. le duc. I feel it my duty to warn you that to-night it will be too late, — in case you should change your mind, — for I have somebody else to put in your place. I wil
l even admit that I thought of this other person first, but, upon reflection, I decided that you would have a much better chance of success than the other man. To make the match and get my one and a half per cent. is what I am after, so if you decline my offer, I shall return to my first combination.”
“You are certainly a very cautious man, my dear baron, and it is a relief to know I shall not have the chagrin of seeing you lose, by reason of my refusal — for I still refuse — the honest gains you are endeavouring to secure by such honourable means. But are you not afraid that I may be so indiscreet as to noise your new industry abroad?”
“I should be only too delighted, M. le duc. Such a revelation would be a splendid advertisement for me, and bring me hosts of clients. Au revoir, then, M. le duc. I shall be none the less at your service another time.”
With a low bow to Gerald, the baron left the room as cool and unconcerned as he had entered it, and wended his way towards the Rue de la Madeleine, where his friend, Mornand, lived.
“This dukeling, doubtless, suspected that Mlle. de Beaumesnil is the lady in question, and means to rob me of my profits by winning the prize without my assistance,” the cynic said to himself as he walked along. “It is contemptible in him, but he hasn’t got her yet, and he won’t get her without a pretty hard fight, that is certain. But it is a great pity! The fellow is a duke, and handsome and clever, too. I was sure of success with him, and now I’ve got to fall back on that ass, Mornand. I was wise not to say anything about my intentions in relation to the Duc de Senneterre, to that old sneak, Rochaiguë. There was plenty of time to do that, if this handsome gosling responded to my call, as well as to take back all I had said in Mornand’s favour, and give the necessary instructions to that old female rake of a Laîné, the governess. Whatever I want done, she will do, and she can be of incalculable assistance to me — self-interest will ensure her devotion and prudence. Fortunately, too, I have managed to get on the right side of Rochaiguë, so now I have nothing to do but state the case to Mornand, who must be waiting very impatiently to hear the result of my interview with the baron.”
Pursuing this train of thought, M. de Ravil had reached the corner of the Rue Champs Élysées, where he had first met Herminie when the latter was on her way to the house of Madame de Beaumesnil.
