by Eugène Sue
The man withdrew, but returned a moment afterwards to say:
“I showed the visitor into mademoiselle’s drawing-room as madame ordered, but it is not Madame de Mirecourt.”
“Who is it, then?”
“M. le Marquis de Maillefort, madame.”
“That detestable man!” exclaimed the baron. “A visit at this hour is an inexcusable familiarity on his part.”
The baroness motioned to her husband to be more guarded before the servants, then whispered to Ernestine, who seemed surprised at this incident:
“M. de la Rochaiguë does not like M. de Maillefort, who is really one of the most spiteful and mischief-making hunchbacks imaginable.”
“A positive devil!” added Helena.
“It seems to me that I have heard my mother speak of a M. de Maillefort,” remarked Ernestine, thoughtfully.
“That is more than likely, my dearest child,” replied the baroness, smiling, “though no one ever speaks of M. de Maillefort as one’s good angel.”
“I do not recollect to have heard her say anything either good or bad about M. de Maillefort,” answered the orphan. “I merely remember the name.”
“And the name is that of a veritable ogre,” said the baron, spitefully.
“But if M. de Maillefort is so objectionable, why do you receive him, madame?” inquired the orphan, hesitatingly.
“Ah, my dear child, in society one is obliged to make many concessions, particularly when a person of M. de Maillefort’s birth is concerned.”
Then addressing the baron, she added:
“It is impossible to prolong the meal farther, for coffee has been served in the drawing-room.”
Madame de la Rochaiguë arose from the table. The baron, concealing his annoyance as best he could, offered his arm to his ward, and the entire party returned to the drawing-room where M. de Maillefort was waiting.
The marquis had so long been accustomed to concealing his love for Madame de Beaumesnil, — the one passion of his life, but one which she alone had divined, — that, on seeing Ernestine, he betrayed none of the interest he felt in her. He remembered, too, not without annoyance, that it would be necessary to appear curt and sarcastic before the orphan, as any sudden change in his manner or language would be sure to arouse the suspicions of the Rochaiguës, and, in order to protect Ernestine from them, and, perhaps, even from herself, or, in other words, to carry out her mother’s last wishes, he must carefully refrain from exciting the distrust of those around her.
M. de Maillefort, who was endowed with remarkably acute powers of perception, noted, with a pang of real anguish, the unpleasant impression his appearance seemed to make upon Ernestine; for the latter, still under the influence of the slanders that had been heaped upon him, had involuntarily shuddered, and averted her gaze from his distorted form.
Painful as the feelings of the marquis were, he had the courage to conceal them, and, advancing towards Madame de la Rochaiguë, with a smile on his lips and an ironical gleam in his eye, he said:
“I am very bold, am I not, my dear baroness? But you know, or rather you are ignorant, that one has friends only to impose upon their good nature, at least unless, like Mlle. de la Rochaiguë here,” he added, bowing low to that lady, “one has no faults at all, but is nothing more or less than an angel descended from heaven for the edification of the faithful. Then it is even worse, I believe, for when one is perfect, one inspires one’s friends with envy, or with admiration, for with many people these two sentiments are one and the same.”
Then, turning to M. de la Rochaiguë, he continued:
“Am I not right, baron? I appeal to you who have the good fortune not to wound either by your virtues or your failings.”
The baron smiled until he showed his long teeth in the most startling fashion, then, trying to conceal his ill-humour, he exclaimed:
“Ah, marquis, marquis, always sarcastic, but always charming!”
Then seeing that he could not avoid introducing M. de Maillefort to Ernestine, who was watching the hunchback with growing uneasiness, the baron said to his ward:
“My dear Ernestine, allow me to introduce M. le Marquis de Maillefort, one of my particular friends.”
After bowing to the young girl, who returned the bow with an embarrassed air, the hunchback said, with formal politeness:
“I am delighted, mademoiselle, to have still another reason for often coming to Madame de la Rochaiguë’s house.”
And as if he considered himself released from the necessity of paying any further attention to the orphan by this commonplace remark, he bowed again, and then took a seat beside the baroness, while her husband tried to conceal his ill-temper by sipping his coffee very slowly, and Helena took Ernestine a few steps aside, under pretext of calling her attention to the plants in a jardinière.
The marquis, without seeming to pay the slightest attention to Ernestine, never once lost sight of them. He had a remarkably keen sense of hearing, and he hoped to catch a few words of the conversation between the devotee and the orphan, while he chatted gaily with Madame de la Rochaiguë, both of them endeavouring to conceal their real thoughts under the airiest persiflage, and to try and discover what the other was driving at, in vulgar parlance.
The frivolous character of such a conversation favoured the hunchback’s intentions, so, while he listened to Madame de la Rochaiguë with a distrait ear, he listened eagerly with the other to Ernestine, the baron, and Helena.
The devotee and her brother, believing the marquis absorbed in his conversation with Madame de la Rochaiguë, reminded the orphan, in the course of their conversation, of the promise she had made to accompany Helena to church the next morning at nine o’clock, and also to go with the baron a couple of days afterwards to view the wonders of the Luxembourg.
Though there was nothing extraordinary in these plans, M. de Maillefort’s distrust of the Rochaiguë family was so great that he deemed it advisable to neglect no detail, however insignificant it might appear, so he noted these facts carefully, even while replying with his accustomed wit to Madame de la Rochaiguë’s commonplaces.
The hunchback’s attention had been divided in this way for, perhaps, a quarter of an hour, when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Helena make a whispered remark to Ernestine, accompanied by a glance at Madame de la Rochaiguë, as if to say that it was not worth while to interrupt her conversation, after which the orphan, Helena, and the baron left the room.
Madame de la Rochaiguë did not perceive their intention until the door closed behind them, but their departure suited her perfectly. The presence of other persons would prevent the explanation she considered it absolutely necessary to have with the marquis, for she was too shrewd and too well versed in the ways of the world not to have felt certain, as she had said to her husband, that the marquis, in thus renewing their acquaintance after a long interruption, had been actuated by a desire to meet the heiress, concerning whom, consequently, he must have some secret designs.
The hunchback’s love for Madame de Beaumesnil having been suspected by no one, and his last interview with the dying countess being likewise a secret, Madame de la Rochaiguë did not and could not suspect the solicitude the marquis felt concerning Ernestine.
But wishing to ascertain the designs of the hunchback, so as to circumvent them if they interfered with her own, Madame de la Rochaiguë abruptly changed the subject as soon as the door had closed upon the orphan, by saying:
“Well, marquis, what do you think of Mlle. de Beaumesnil?”
“I think her very generous.”
“Very generous, marquis? What do you mean by that?”
“Why, with her fortune, your ward would have a perfect right to be as ugly and humpbacked as I am. But does she really possess many admirable traits of character?”
“I have known her so short a time, I scarcely know how to answer you.”
“Why this reticence? You must feel sure that I did not come to ask your ward’s hand in marriage.
”
“Who knows?” retorted the baroness, laughing.
“I know, and I have told you.”
“Seriously, marquis, I am positive that at this very moment a hundred matrimonial projects have already been formed—”
“Against Mlle. de Beaumesnil?”
“‘Against’ is very suggestive. But one moment, marquis. I wish to be perfectly frank with you.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the hunchback, in mocking surprise. “Ah, well, so do I. Come, my dear baroness, let us have this little treat in the way of sincerity, which is such a rare thing, alas!”
And M. de Maillefort drew his chair nearer the sofa on which the baroness was seated.
CHAPTER XXII.
AN ORGY OF SINCERITY.
AFTER A MOMENT’S silence, Madame de la Rochaiguë, with a penetrating glance at M. de Maillefort, said:
“Marquis, I understand you.”
“Bah!”
“Understand you perfectly.”
“You do everything to perfection, so this does not surprise me. But let me hear the proofs of these surprising powers of penetration on your part.”
“For fear of harrowing my feelings too much, I will not count the number of years during which you never set foot in my house, and now you suddenly return with a truly flattering eagerness. So, being a sensible woman, and not a mere bundle of conceit, I say to myself—”
“Come, baroness, what is it you say to yourself?”
“I say to myself simply this: ‘After M. de Maillefort’s long desertion of me, to what am I now indebted for the novel pleasure of seeing him so often? It must be because I am Mlle. de Beaumesnil’s guardian, and because this most estimable marquis has some special reason for again favouring me with his visits.’”
“You are about right, baroness, upon my word.”
“What! you admit it?”
“I am compelled to.”
“You almost make me doubt my powers of penetration by your prompt confession, marquis.”
“Are we not striving to outdo each other in frankness?”
“True; I forgot that.”
“And now I, in my turn, will explain why I so suddenly ceased to visit your house. You see, madame, I am something of a stoic, and when anything gives me very great pleasure I suddenly renounce it, so I may not allow myself to become enervated by too much pleasure. That is why I suddenly ceased to visit you.”
“I would like to believe it, but—”
“You can at least try. As to the resumption of my visits—”
“Ah, that is the most curious part—”
“You have guessed the reason — pretty nearly.”
“Pretty nearly, marquis?”
“Yes, for though I have no special plans in relation to the subject of your ward’s marriage, I can’t help saying to myself that this great heiress is sure to draw a crowd of unscrupulous fortune-hunters around her, and Madame de la Rochaiguë’s house will soon be the scene of all sorts of amusing intrigues. A person who desires to see all the amusing acts of this comedy can view them from the reserved seats, so to speak, in Madame de la Rochaiguë’s house. At my age, and made as I am, I have no other amusement in the world except what observation affords me; so I intend to frequent Madame de la Rochaiguë’s house for that purpose. She will receive me, because she received me years ago, and because, after all, I am not any more stupid, nor any more of a bore than other people. So, from my quiet corner, I will watch the fierce struggle between the rival suitors. This is the truth, and now, baroness, you surely will not be so hard-hearted as to refuse me a place in your drawing-room where I can watch this contest, of which your ward is to be the prize.”
“But, marquis, you are not one of those persons who can watch people fight, without taking a hand in it yourself,” said Madame de la Rochaiguë, shaking her head.
“Well, I can’t say that I am.”
“So you will not remain neutral.”
“I don’t know about that,” answered the marquis.
Then, emphasising the words strongly, he added:
“As I am experienced in the ways of the world, as I have a horror of cowardice and conceit, and as I have always maintained my habit of plain speaking, I admit that if I should see a brave warrior, whose courage and worth have interested me, perfidiously attacked, I should be very likely to come to that person’s assistance with all the means at my disposal.”
“But this, permit me to say, monsieur,” responded the baroness, concealing her anger under a forced laugh, “is nothing more nor less than a sort of inquisition, of which you will be the inquisitor-general, and which will be located in my house.”
“Yes, in your house, or elsewhere; for you know, baroness, that if the whim should seize you, — every pretty woman, you know, must have her whims, and you are certainly entitled to a good many of them, — I repeat that, if the whim should seize you, you could easily tell your servants that in future you will never be at home to me.”
“Why, marquis, can you suppose — ?”
“I was only jesting,” replied M. de Maillefort, dryly. “The baron is too sensible a man to allow your doors to be closed against me without a cause, and he will spare me, I am sure, any explanation on the subject. I have the honour to tell you, my dear baroness, that having resolved to watch these very amusing doings, to see, in fact, how the richest heiress in France is married off, I can establish my point of observation almost anywhere, for, in spite of my diminutive stature, I can manage to see from almost any position, high or low.”
“Then, my dear marquis, you must confess that it is an offensive and defensive alliance you are proposing to me,” said Madame de la Rochaiguë, with the same forced smile.
“Not the least bit in the world. I shall neither be for you nor against you. I shall merely watch what goes on, with a keen eye, and perhaps try to aid this suitor, or to circumvent the other suitor, according to my best judgment and my feeble resources, if the desire seizes me, or rather if justice and truth demand it, for you know I am very peculiar in my notions.”
“But why not content yourself with the rôle of a looker-on? Why can you not remain neutral?”
“Because, as you yourself remarked just now, my dear baroness, I am not one of those persons who can watch others fight without taking a hand in the fight myself.”
“But,” said Madame de la Rochaiguë, quite at her wits’ end, “suppose, — and it is merely a supposition, for we have decided not to think of Ernestine’s marriage for a long time yet, — suppose, I say, that we did have some one in view for her, what would you do?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, upon my word!”
“Come, come, M. le marquis, you are not acting fairly with me. You have some scheme of your own.”
“Nothing of the kind. I do not know Mlle. de Beaumesnil; I have no suitor to suggest for her. I am, consequently, an entirely disinterested looker-on, and, this being the case, my dear baroness, I do not exactly understand why you should have any objection to my watching the amusing proceedings.”
“That is true,” said Madame de la Rochaiguë, recovering her composure, “for, after all, in marrying Ernestine, what can we have in view, except her happiness?”
“Nothing, of course.”
“Consequently, we have nothing to fear from your observation, as you call it, my dear marquis.”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”
“For, in case we should make a mistake—”
“Which may happen to any one, even one who has the best intentions in the world.”
“Certainly, marquis. Well, in that event, you would not fail to come to our assistance, and warn us of our danger.”
“That is what an observer is for,” laughingly remarked M. de Maillefort, rising to take leave.
“What, marquis, you are going so soon?”
“To my great regret. I must make the tour of five or six drawing-rooms, to hear what people are saying about your young heiress. You have no idea
how amusing, curious, and sometimes revolting the remarks upon the subject of her immense dowry are!”
“Ah, well, my dear marquis,” said Madame de la Rochaiguë, offering her hand to the hunchback in the most cordial manner, “I hope to see you often, very often; and as all this seems to interest you so much, I shall keep you fully posted.”
“And I, too, will promise to tell you everything I hear. It will be wonderfully amusing. And, by the way,” added the marquis, with the most careless air imaginable, though he had come to Madame de la Rochaiguë’s house as much to endeavour to secure some light upon an as yet impenetrable mystery as to see Ernestine,— “by the way, did you ever hear anything about an illegitimate child that M. de Beaumesnil left?”
“M. de Beaumesnil?” asked the baroness, with evident surprise.
“Yes,” replied the hunchback, for, in putting the question thus, he hoped to attain his object without endangering the secret he thought he had discovered in relation to Madame de Beaumesnil; “yes, did you never hear that M. de Beaumesnil had an illegitimate child?”
“No,” replied the baroness, “this is the first time I ever heard of any such rumour, though a long while ago there was some talk about a liaison the countess had prior to her marriage. It must, consequently, have been in connection with her that you heard this story of an illegitimate child, but I, myself, have never heard anything on the subject before.”
“Then whether this rumour relates to the count or the countess, there is evidently not the slightest truth in it, my dear baroness, for, by reason of your close connection with the family, you would have been sure to know of the matter.”
“And I assure you, marquis, that we have never heard or seen anything that would lead us to suppose that either M. or Madame de Beaumesnil left any illegitimate child.”
M. de Maillefort, who was endowed with an unusual amount of penetration, as well as tact, now felt fully convinced of Madame de la Rochaiguë’s entire ignorance of the existence of any illegitimate child, and the failure of this fresh attempt on his part caused him deep chagrin, particularly as he began to despair of discovering any trace of this unknown child, and of thus complying with Madame de Beaumesnil’s dying request.
