Collected Works of Eugène Sue
Page 761
I met M. de Cernay, who from the Opéra had transferred his amorous worship to the Comédie-Française, in the suite of Mlle. — , a most enticing soubrette.
M. de Pommerive was heavier, more slanderous, and more wearisome than ever. Cernay greeted me with effusive cordiality, and asked me about my travels with Falmouth, for as yet nothing had transpired.
As I was very reserved on this subject, as much by natural tendency as by premeditation, Cernay and Pommerive ended by imagining the most unheard-of things on the pretended mystery of my adventures.
In accordance with my arrangement with the prince, I begged a man of my acquaintance, very intimate with the Russian ambassador, to present me to Madame de Fersen.
The prince had rented a handsome furnished mansion in the Faubourg St. Germain.
Before long his salons were the customary meeting-place of the corps diplomatique and of the cream of Parisian society, regardless of political opinions.
Madame de Fersen’s appearance in the world caused a sensation. Her beauty, her name, and her reputation as a woman versed in politics and interested in the great topics of the day, the respect which she inspired, all contributed to place her very high in public estimation.
In a short time the just appreciation of the rare qualities that distinguished her was followed by the most pronounced infatuation.
The women who shared her austere principles were delighted and proud to strengthen their ranks with such a recruit. Those, on the contrary, who might have dreaded her coldness, taking it as a mute censure of their flightiness, were charmed and surprised at her great amiability. Assured of not finding in her a rival, they became enthusiastic regarding the beautiful stranger.
I can scarcely express my happiness at Madame de Fersen’s success.
I went to her house for the first time one evening, five or six days after my arrival in Paris.
Though rather late, there were as yet few people assembled.
She greeted me very gracefully; but I observed in her a certain reserve, uneasiness, and sadness.
I fancied she wished to speak to me in private.
I was striving to ascertain what could be her anxiety, when, in the course of conversation, M. de Sérigny, at that time Minister of Foreign Affairs, spoke of children in connection with an admirable portrait which Lawrence had just exhibited at the Salon.
Madame de Fersen gave me a rapid glance, and then complained that her daughter was ailing and sad at finding herself thrown among strangers, and that no distraction had availed to draw her out of her melancholy, — neither games nor walks in the large gardens surrounding the mansion.
“But, madame,” said I, hoping to be understood, “would it not be better to send your daughter to the Tuileries Gardens? She would find there companions more of her own age, and their gaiety would doubtless divert her.”
A touching glance from Madame de Fersen showed me she had understood, for she replied, quickly: “Mon Dieu! you are right, monsieur. I am very sorry I did not think of that sooner. From to-morrow, I shall always send my little girl to the Tuileries. I am sure she will be very happy there, and already I feel assured she will get well.”
I was happy to see from this mysterious interchange of thoughts that Madame de Fersen’s heart read mine.
Fresh visitors interrupted the conversation, the circle grew larger, and I rose to go and chat with some ladies of my acquaintance.
“Ah, mon Dieu!” exclaimed Madame de — , “M. de Pommerive here! That man thrusts himself everywhere, then?”
In fact, there was Pommerive, with a less impudent air than usual, following in the steps of the chargé d’ affaires of some little German court, who was doubtless leading him up to Madame de Fersen.
“It is a presentation,” said Madame de — to me.
“If there were justice,” I replied, “it would be an exposition.”
“But how can Madame de Fersen receive affably so slanderous and false a man?” said Madame de — .
“To prove, doubtless, the weakness of that man’s calumnies,” replied I.
Pommerive made a profound bow to Madame de Fersen, then followed the chargé d’affaires, and both went in search of M. de Fersen.
A few minutes later, I found myself face to face with Pommerive.
“Hello! Are you here?” he cried.
This exclamation was so absurdly impertinent, that I answered:
“If I were less polite, M. de Pommerive, I might express my astonishment at finding you here.”
“I am not at all astonished at it,” said Pommerive with an impudent assurance, for which he was indebted to his age, and to a reputation for cynic cowardice, which I should have stated he was wont to boast of. “I did not expect to meet you; that is all. But listen.” Then, taking my arm, he led me to the recess of a window, saying as we moved along: “Do you know the Prince de Fersen very well?”
Pommerive was repugnant to me, but I was curious to know if people had heard of my having travelled with the princess, and as Pommerive was sure to pick up the slightest report, true or false, he might enlighten me on this subject.
“I do not know M. de Fersen any better than you know him,” I said.
“Then you know him very well,” he replied, conceitedly.
“How is that?”
“Certainly. I dined with him yesterday, a miserable dinner it is true, at Baron— ‘s, chargé d’affaires of — , who brought me here just now in his carriage!
And what a carriage! a wretched concern with a glass window in the back, a regular rattletrap. It is indeed a carriage which seems made expressly to help to digest his bad dinners, so hard is it; for that miserly fellow scrapes up dowries for his six hideous daughters from the allowance made him for entertaining; and he is right, for without dowry who the devil would look twice at any of his daughters? But I come back to the prince.”
“Very unfortunate for him, M. de Pommerive.”
“Oh, not at all! I shall be careful of the dear prince, for he appreciates me, and I have come to make an appointment for our business.”
“And what business, M. de Pommerive? May one, without being indiscreet, inquire into this diplomatic secret?”
“Oh, it is quite plain; he asked that miserly baron—” and here Pommerive opened a parenthesis to insert another piece of malice. “Speaking of this miserly baron,” he continued, “would you believe it? when he gives his wretched dinners, a sort of Maître Jacques goes once around the table with a miserable bottle of champagne, not iced, which he holds tightly in his arms, just as a nurse holds her precious nursling; and he says very quickly, as he passes on still more quickly, ‘Monsieur does not drink champagne,’ without any point of interrogation, the wretch, but with an accent of affirmation.”
“See now the value of punctuation, M. de Pommerive! But come back to the prince.”
“Well, M. de Fersen having asked the baron to point out to him some one of enlightenment and good taste who could coach him on theatrical matters, and give him information about the actors, the baron has had the good sense to present me.”
“Ah, I understand,” I replied, “you are going to be M. de Fersen’s dramatic cicerone.”
“That is it exactly; but, between us, I find this fondness for the theatre very ridiculous in a man like the prince. To judge by this sample he must be a poor sort of a fellow, this Fersen. I am not surprised at people saying that his wife directs all the diplomatic affairs. She has the appearance of a strong-minded woman, sharp and hard; and, moreover, they say a thirty-six carats virtue. What do I care about her virtue? I do not grudge it to her, though there is not a dissenting voice. It is astonishing!”
“There is something even more astonishing, M. de Pommerive.”
“And what is it, dear count?”
“It is that some straightforward, honourable man has not the courage to go to M. de Fersen and repeat word for word all the insolent things you have permitted yourself to say about him, so that he might kick you out of
his house.”
“Dash it! no one would surely go and repeat to him what I have said! I feel pretty safe on that score; but if any one did I would not care, I would stand by my words.”
“You are boasting, M. de Pommerive!”
“What, I boasting! That does not prevent that on one occasion they repeated to Verpuis — you know Verpuis, who was such a duellist — that I had said that he had only the courage of foolhardiness. Verpuis comes to me with his bullying air and asks me in the presence of twenty persons, ‘Did you make use of these words, yes or no?’
‘No, sir,’ I replied, also putting on a bullying air, ‘I said, on the contrary, that you had only the foolhardiness of courage.’”
“You certainly did not say that, M. de Pommerive!”
“I did, and the proof of it is that he kicked me. I then said that it was cowardly to insult a man who would not fight; and he took that.”
This disgusting boast of cowardice, for Pommerive had never quite lowered himself to that extent, revolted me. I turned my back upon the man, but could not shake him off readily.
“You will see,” said he, “one of your old flames, the pretty Madame de V —— , with whom M. de Sérigny, Minister of Foreign Affairs, is madly in love. They say really that he is crazy enough to be shut up in a lunatic asylum since he has been pursuing that little woman; he knows neither what he says, nor what he does. This diplomatic céladon would make you die with laughter, if he was not such a pitiable object. But here he comes. I must go and beg him not to forget my recommendation of my nephew. Let us hope that his ridiculous love affair has not made him lose his memory as well as his wits.”
And this insolent person approached M. de Sérigny with abject salutations.
At this moment Madame de V —— was announced.
I had not seen her since my return to Paris. I found her, if possible, looking younger, so much freshness, piquancy, and sparkle did that lively, mobile countenance display.
Madame de V —— dressed in a manner quite her own, but never showy or eccentric, and always with the most perfect taste.
The minister, who had got rid of Pommerive, watched with an anxious and jealous eye the numerous salutations which she acknowledged on all sides with her sparkling coquetry. He seemed somewhat easier when he saw Madame de V —— seated between Lady Bury and another lady.
M. de Sérigny, at that time Minister of Foreign Affairs, was a man of about fifty years of age, rather insignificant and careless in his appearance. He affected a brusqueness of manner, a heedless indifference, which, assumed or not, had always, people said, been of remarkable service to him in his career. He was a man of fine, broad mind, but in society he rarely made use of his intellectual faculties. His superiority was summed up in his taciturnity, and the sole expression of his countenance was concentrated in a smile. Now this silence and this smile, completing, interpreting, and explaining one another, could in turns be so admirably flattering, sarcastic, wicked, or absent, that this language had really a great significance.
Jealous to au excess, his passion for Madame de V —— was intense, at least according to the world of whom Pommerive was the faithful echo.
When a man of the age, character, and position of M. de Sérigny becomes seriously enamoured of a woman so frivolous and coquettish as Madame de V —— , his amorous life can only be a prolonged torture.
As I wished to observe M. de Sérigny in his rôle of martyr, I slid behind the easy chair in which sat Madame de V —— , and went to salute her.
I well knew the vivacity of her demeanour, and was quite prepared for the explosive friendly recognition. I had formerly rejected the conditions which might have made me succeed in obtaining her favours, but we had parted on the best of terms, and I had kept secret all that passed between us. Now Madame de V —— , who unfortunately had more than once exposed herself to being roughly handled, was naturally grateful to me for my prudence.
Scarcely had she heard my voice, therefore, than she turned abruptly, and holding out her hand exclaimed, with her customary volubility:
“What a delightful surprise! and how happy I am to see you once more! But have you fallen from the clouds that no one knew of your return? and I who have really so much to thank you for! Now then give me your arm, and we will settle ourselves in some solitary nook in the next parlour, for you cannot imagine all I have to say to you.”
Thereupon, up she jumps from her seat, and, making her way through the crowd surrounding the easy chair, she takes my arm, and we walk out of the big salon into another room which was nearly empty.
Standing talking at the entrance of this room were Madame de Fersen and M. de Sérigny.
Madame de V —— had such compromising ways that nothing with her was insignificant, and she found means during our short progress from one room to the other to call attention to herself by her affectation in whispering to me and then bursting into peals of laughter.
Just as we passed in front of Madame de Fersen, the latter, astonished at Madame de V — — ‘s noisy ways, gave me a look which seemed uneasy and almost inquiring.
The minister stared at me moodily, coloured up a little, assumed his most affable smile, and said to Madame de V — , with a foppish air, without being heard by the princess: “You are going to establish there a colony of admirers which will soon become more populous than the metropolis.”
“Provided you do not interfere in its administration,” retorted Madame de V —— , laughing playfully; then she added, in a low voice, “You must confess that there is nothing like love to make an idiot of a man. M. de Sérigny is a man of great intellect, and yet you heard him! Is it flattering to inspire a sentiment which is expressed so stupidly under pretence of being sincere?” While saying these words, she seated herself near a table covered with albums. I took a place near her, and we chatted.
During this conversation, two or three times my eyes met those of Madame de Fersen, who, each time she perceived I was looking at her, quickly turned her gaze.
M. de Sérigny watched Madame de V —— all the time and seemed on thorns.
A woman came up; Madame de Fersen took her arm and went into the salon.
The minister was doubtless coming towards us when he was arrested by Baron — , who, according to Pommerive, accumulated his daughters’ dowries from the appropriation for entertainments.
I do not know if the subject of his talk with M. de Sérigny was very important, but I have my doubts as to the attention given him by the minister, so engaged was he in watching Madame de V —— .
“Well,” said I to my companion, “it is then true? Those charming hands hold the fate of Europe? The reign of female sovereigns and of enslaved ministers is returning? How delightful! It looks as rococo as possible and seems very pretty. See now, for instance, at this very moment you are entangling wildly the destinies of the grand duchy of — , for the chargé d’ affaires of that poor little court seems to me to have exhausted all his arguments, and you look as if he had spoken Greek.”
“Let us for once exhaust this miserable subject of conversation,” said Madame de V —— with vivacity, “never to return to it. Yes, M. de Sérigny pays furious court to me, and I do not reject his attentions. I am even very coquettish with him, because it amuses me to tyrannise over a man in so high a position; and then, as they attribute to me as much influence over him as they attribute to him worship of me, you can have no idea of the snares laid for me by the corps diplomatique to make me talk. For my own amusement, I make quite innocently the most absurd half confidences, but you can well see that all this can hardly afford amusement to a boarding-school miss. This is my confession; grant me plenary absolution, at least out of pity, for M. de Sérigny is a wearisome sin. And now, in your turn, tell me of your travels, your adventures, your love affairs, and I will see if I can grant you absolution.”
“To speak in your own language, I will confess, in the first place, that my greatest sin is being still in love with you.”
I was at first tempted to attribute these tears to a skilful flash, but the mind of this woman was so mobile and inconstant that I believed in the sincerity of this temporary emotion, and I was touched by it. Softness in this woman, however, could only be an accident, and I replied:
“I have done for you what any honourable man would have done; but you, do something for me truly meritorious; come, love me frankly in your own way, as a coquette, heedlessly, faithlessly, if you will, and I will imitate you. One is never more amiable than when one has to implore forgiveness, therefore we shall be mutually charming. Nothing more delightful; we shall confide our faithlessness to one another, and will betray each other in the frankest way possible.”
“M. Arthur,” said Madame de V —— , still with a serious, softened air and with a voice trembling with emotion, “I am going to say something which to any other but you would appear improper and incomprehensible; but remember this, and believe that I honour you too much — I love you too much — to have you appear as M. de Sérigny’s successor.”