by Eugène Sue
Then seeing the marquis was about to protest, she added:
“M. de Maillefort, I am not in a passion, I am calm, and I am saying exactly what I mean. I am telling you exactly what I should do, and after the insulting demand of my son and his accomplice, it is no longer maternal love or even indifference I feel for him; it is contempt, it is hatred, yes, hatred, do you hear? Tell him so. All the affection I once felt for this scoundrel I shall now bestow upon my daughters.”
“This woman would do what she says,” thought the marquis, with a feeling of horror. “It is useless to insist further. Reason is no match for such blind obstinacy as this. This woman, as she says, would watch her son kill himself before her very eyes unmoved. This is a pride of race that amounts to the stupid ferocity of the brute. Poor Gerald! Poor Herminie!”
CHAPTER XXII.
A FINAL VICTORY.
AFTER A MOMENT’S silence, during which Madame de Senneterre sat positively panting with rage at this odious revelation which she could not yet fully make up her mind to believe, viz., that her son wished to marry a music teacher who supported herself by her own exertions, M. de Maillefort said, coldly, and exactly as if the foregoing conversation had never taken place:
“Madame, what do you think of the nobility and illustriousness of the house of Haut-Martel?”
At first Madame de Senneterre gazed at the hunchback with evident surprise, then she said:
“Really, monsieur, this question is most extraordinary.”
“And why, madame?”
“What, monsieur, you see me crushed under the blow that has just struck me, or, rather, that you have just dealt me, unintentionally, no doubt,” she added, with bitter irony, “and then ask me without rhyme or reason what I think of the illustriousness of the house of Haut-Martel.”
“My question is less extraordinary, as you do not seem to think there can be the slightest ameliorating circumstance in the blow that has just overtaken you. So once more I ask, what do you think of the house of Haut-Martel?”
“There is not an older or more illustrious family in France, you most know very well, as you are closely connected with it on your father’s side.”
“I am now the head of that house, madame.”
“You?” exclaimed Madame de Senneterre.
And strange to say the lady’s acerbity of manner gave place to a sort of envious deference for the new representative of this powerful family.
“But I thought that the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, who has resided on his estates in Germany since that idiotic revolution of 1830—”
“That Prince Duc de Haut-Martel is dead, madame, and as he had neither brothers nor children, and as I am his cousin-germain, I inherit his estates and title.”
“Then this event must have occurred very recently.”
“I received the first intimation of it through the Austrian ambassador, and last night I had an official confirmation of the fact.”
“So you are now the Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel?” said Madame de Senneterre, with mingled admiration and envy.
“Precisely, and without troubling myself very much about it, as you see.”
“But your position is magnificent,” exclaimed this monomaniac, quite forgetting the son whose despair might end in suicide. “Why, you are now one of the greatest noblemen in France.”
“Good Heavens! yes. My newly acquired dignities enable me to aspire to anything, do they not? And to think that only yesterday I was but a simple marquis! What a change to-day, is there not? Don’t you find my hump a little smaller since you have heard that I am so great a nobleman?”
“One should no more sneer at rank than at religion, monsieur.”
“Certainly not. There are plenty of other subjects for ridicule. But I forgot to tell you that the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel left me estates in Hungary which yield a yearly income of about fifty thousand crowns, free of all incumbrances.”
“One hundred and fifty thousand francs! Why, though no one knows the exact amount of your fortune, you are supposed to be very rich already, monsieur,” replied Madame de Senneterre, with a sort of jealous envy.
“I scarcely know the exact amount of my income, myself,” said the hunchback, “for my tenants, poor souls! pay me only when they can do so without too great an effort; but even in the worst of times I can generally count upon at least sixty thousand francs a year, to say nothing of the fact — of course, this is little more than an empty honour — that the electors of the arrondissement in which my estates are located propose to do me the honour of making me their deputy, their former representative having recently died; so you see that wealth and honours are falling upon me thick as hail.”
“Then you have an income of more than two hundred thousand francs, and are Prince Duc de Haut-Martel and—”
“Prospective deputy, besides. Don’t forget that.”
“Your position is certainly a very enviable one.”
“Yes, and with my figure and appearance I can aspire to the most beautiful woman in the land, can I not? Say, what a pity it is that Mlle. de Beaumesnil is in love with a handsome young man! But for that, I might have married her myself.”
A new thought suddenly occurred to Madame de Senneterre, and after a moment’s reflection the avaricious creature, casting a keen glance at M. de Maillefort, said:
“I think I understand you, M. le marquis.”
“Let me see if you do.”
“The question you asked me just now as to what I thought of the house of Haut-Martel was intended to suggest a sort of compensation for the terrible disappointment my unworthy son has caused me.”
“You are right, madame.”
“And as you have unexpectedly become the head of an illustrious house, you do not want it to become extinct.”
“There is some truth in that, also,” replied the hunchback, not a little surprised at Madame de Senneterre’s penetration, though he was far from suspecting the lady’s real thought.
“Yes, I admit that I would not like the name to die out, madame,” he added, after a slight pause.
“And as you know that only a carefully reared girl of noble birth would be capable of bearing this noble name as it should be borne, and of understanding the sacred obligations she would have to fulfil towards the man to whom she owed such a magnificent position, you are thinking of my eldest daughter, — and believe you can thus offer me an adequate compensation for the misery my son’s insubordination has caused me.”
“I! marry?” exclaimed the hunchback, even more revolted than surprised by Madame de Senneterre’s heartless proposal.
But anxious to see how far the blindness, hardness of heart, and love of greed would carry this cruel parent, he responded with one of those half way refusals that seem to be made only in the hope of seeing them overcome.
“I think of such a marriage! Besides, even if I did, would there be any possibility of compassing it? Think of it, madame, at my age and deformed as I am, while your daughter Bertha is a charming girl of barely twenty. She would laugh in my face and she would do perfectly right.”
“You are mistaken, monsieur,” replied this incomparable parent, gravely. “In the first place, Mlle. de Senneterre has been reared in habits of respect and submission from which I feel sure she will never depart. Besides, she knows that she is poor, and that she would never be likely to attain another position to be compared with that you offer her.”
“But again let me remind you that I am old and ugly and a hunchback besides.”
“M. le marquis, my daughters have been brought up in such a way that they would not dare to so much as look at the husband I select for them until the marriage ceremony is over.”
“A pleasant surprise you would give the poor child that married me!”
“I repeat, M. le marquis, that my daughters have not those lewd imaginations that are capable only of a carnal appreciation of a husband. If I tell my daughter my wishes, that will suffice.”
�
��I am strongly inclined to tell this heartless, unscrupulous woman what I think of her,” the hunchback said to himself; “but what should I gain by it? She is an egregious fool, and there is nothing for me to do but answer the fool according to her folly.”
So seeing that Madame de Senneterre was awaiting his reply with keen anxiety, the marquis said:
“You said a few minutes ago, and very sensibly, I think, that one should no more speak lightly of rank than of religion, did you not?”
“Yes, M. le marquis.”
“You will admit, too, probably, that it is equally wrong to treat marriage lightly.”
“Certainly, M. le marquis.”
“Then allow me to say that your desire to see your daughter Bertha Princesse de Haut-Martel would result in nothing more or less than a cruel mockery of religion, nobility of rank, and marriage, — three sacred things, as you call them.”
“How is that, monsieur?”
“Mlle. de Senneterre would outrage all the laws of marriage and religion, or rather of nature and the Creator, which is even worse, by pledging love and fidelity to an old hunchback like me; and I, in turn, would bring disgrace and ridicule upon the nobility in general, and upon the houses of Senneterre and Haut-Martel in particular, by running any risk of perpetuating their illustrious line with a set of hideous little hunchbacks made in my image. They might serve as convincing proof of my wife’s resignation and faithfulness, but they would certainly give the world a droll opinion of our great historic races.”
“Really, M. le marquis — I—”
“You are going to cite Prince Eugène, possibly, as an example for me, and I ought, perhaps, to feel greatly flattered by the comparison, but it would not be well to impair the lustre of such rarities by multiplying them. I am extremely grateful to you for your kind offer, and Mlle. Bertha, believe me, will be equally grateful to me for having declined it. It depends entirely upon you, however, whether a union of our two powerful houses is realised or not, and also whether this income of two hundred thousand francs is allowed to go out of your family. I make haste to assure you that I am too thoroughly convinced of my own unworthiness to venture to lift my eyes to you, madame la duchesse,” added the hunchback, with a low, though decidedly ironical bow. “In the first place I should make you the most detestable husband in the world, and then I have no inclination for marriage.”
“It is hardly necessary to decline with such alacrity a proposition that has never been made to you,” replied the Duchesse de Senneterre, rather spitefully. “You would oblige me by explaining yourself more clearly, however, for I never was good at solving enigmas. You are kind enough to speak of a union of our two houses, and of preventing your fortune from going out of my family, but I haven’t the slightest idea how you propose to bring these things about.”
“First permit me to say — not at all by way of reproach, understand — that you were not so very difficult to please in regard to lineage when Gerald’s marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil was under consideration. Beaumesnil is not an aristocratic name by any means, — the grandfather of the late count, though a highly respected man, was simply M. Joseph Vert-Puis, a very wealthy banker.”
“I know perfectly well that Mlle. Vert-Puis de Beaumesnil is a mere nobody, so far as birth is concerned, but—”
“But the numerous millions gild this recently ennobled plebeian, do they not? Very well, though that number of millions may have to be divided by four or five, what would you say to a notice couched in the following terms:
“M. le Marquis de Maillefort, Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, etc., etc., has the honour to inform you of the marriage of Mlle. Herminie de Haut-Martel, with M. le Duc de Senneterre.”
Madame de Senneterre, surprised beyond expression, gazed wonderingly at the hunchback, who continued:
“The marriage contract stipulates that all male children that may be born of this marriage shall take the name of Senneterre-Haut-Martel, which I fancy will sound quite as well as Noailles-Noailles, Rohan-Rochefort, or Montmorency-Luxembourg, and as Mlle. Herminie Haut-Martel is an only child, and I am very frugal in my tastes, the young couple will have, up to the time of my death, one hundred and fifty thousand francs a year to sustain their exalted rank in a suitable manner.”
“I really do not understand you at all, M. de Maillefort. You have never been married, and you have no daughter.”
“No, but what is there to prevent me from adopting one, and thus giving her my name and fortune?”
“Nothing, of course. But who are the parents of this girl you contemplate adopting?”
“She is an orphan, and, as I told you before, she is a music teacher, and supports herself by giving lessons.”
“What!” exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, “that same creature Gerald is crazy about?”
“Enough, madame,” said the marquis, sternly. “I will not permit any one to speak in that way in my presence of a young lady whom I love and esteem sufficiently to give her my name.”
“But what you say is so strange—”
“Strange or not, do you accept my proposal, yes or no?”
“Accept — monsieur? Accept for a daughter-in-law — a — a person who has given music lessons for a living?”
“Such sensitiveness on your part is truly heroic, doubtless, but I must call your attention to the fact that your son has little or nothing, and that Mlle. Herminie de Maillefort, though she has done such a scandalous thing as to earn an honest living, would bring M. de Senneterre two hundred thousand francs a year, and an alliance with the Haut-Martel family. I also take the liberty of reminding you that your son will probably kill himself if he does not marry this young lady. I know you would rather see him dead than married to some one beneath him, for the mother of the Gracchi is not to be compared with you, so far as stoicism is concerned, but it is none the less certain that the extinction of the house of Senneterre in such a fashion would cause a frightful scandal, which would, I think, be even worse than a mésalliance, especially when a Senneterre makes a mésalliance with a Maillefort de Haut-Martel.”
“But, monsieur, every one will know that this young person is only your adopted child.”
“All I can say in reply to that objection, madame, is that I, myself, could never have had so beautiful, so affectionate, and so truly noble a child.”
“You know her well, then?”
“You certainly ask a singular question, madame. What! can you believe that I — being the man you know me to be — would give my name to a person who would not be an honour to that name?”
“But, monsieur,” exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, in a tone of sorrowful reproach, “there can be no denying the fact that your adopted daughter has been a — a professional artiste.”
“My adopted daughter, will, indeed, have the terrible misfortune to be and to have been a musical artiste of a high order. This is truly deplorable. I weep — I mourn — I bewail the fact. But, alas! you know the proverb, ‘The prettiest girl in the world has some fault.’”
“And her patrons, do they belong to our set?”
“No, she is too proud for that.”
“Mon Dieu! marquis, you place me in a very embarrassing position.”
“I shall be able to put an end to this perplexity, I think. Listen attentively,” continued M. de Maillefort, no longer in an ironical manner, but in firm, even stern tones. “I tell you plainly, once for all, that, if you refuse your consent, I shall go straight to Herminie, tell her exactly, what I intend to do for her, and prove to her that though, as a nameless and penniless girl, her dignity demanded the advances she asked from you, lest it might be said that she had forced herself upon the Senneterre family from ambitious or mercenary motives, as the adopted child of M. de Maillefort, who brings an illustrious name and a fortune of two hundred thousand francs a year to her husband, she need feel no such scruples. As Herminie adores Gerald, and my reasoning is perfectly just and sensible, I think, in fact I am sure, that she will be guided by me. Your son
will make the usual formal application for your consent, and then there is nothing more to be said.”
“Monsieur—”
“It will pain Gerald a good deal, I am sure, to have to dispense with your consent, for he loves you — blindly — that is the proper word to use in this connection; but in order to spare him all remorse, I shall repeat your words to him, madame: ‘I had rather see him dead, than married to one beneath him.’ Atrocious, or, rather, senseless words, when I, myself, assured you that Gerald could not find a wife more worthy of him than the one he has chosen!”
“You surely would not create discord between my son and me, monsieur.”
“I shall certainly do everything in my power to ensure Gerald’s peace of mind and happiness, since you are so stubborn and opinionated as to be willing to sacrifice both to your absurd prejudices—”
“That expression, monsieur—”
“These prejudices are not only absurd, madame, but after the adoption I propose, there is no longer even an excuse for them. One word more. If you have the good sense to prefer to live in peace and on affectionate terms with your son, and spare yourself, as well as him, a most deplorable scandal, you will go to Herminie’s home to-morrow — any further inquiries being entirely unnecessary after what I have told you about her.”
“I — monsieur — I, go first to the home of this young person?”
“You will be obliged to degrade yourself to that extent, the degradation being the more terrible, as Herminie, for certain reasons, must remain ignorant of my intention of adopting her until after your visit. So it will be to Mlle. Herminie, the poor music teacher, that you will go to give your consent to her marriage with your son.”
“Never, monsieur, never will I so lower myself as to do this thing.”
“But remember that there is nothing really humiliating about this step, and that no one will witness it but me, for I shall be there at the time.”
“I tell you that it is impossible, monsieur. Never will I subject myself to such a humiliation.”
