The Duke's Motto: A Melodrama

by Justin H. McCarthy

  XII

  FLORA

  Peyrolles prepared to be frank. He put up his hand, and whispered behindit cautiously: "The married life of the Prince de Gonzague and the widowof Nevers has not been ideally happy."

  AEsop grinned at him in derision. "You surprise me!" he commented,ironically.

  Peyrolles went on: "The marriage is only a marriage in name. Whatarguments succeeded in persuading so young a widow to marry again so soonI do not, of course, know." He paused for a moment and frowned a little,for AEsop, though saying nothing, was lolling out his tongue at himmockingly. Then he went on, with a somewhat ruffled manner: "At allevents, whatever the arguments were, they succeeded, and the Duchess deNevers became the Princess de Gonzague. After the ceremony the Princessde Gonzague told her husband that she lived only in the hope ofrecovering her child, and that she would kill herself if she were notleft in peace."

  He paused for a moment. AEsop spurred him on: "Well, go on, go on."

  Peyrolles cleared his throat. Being frank was neither habitual norpleasant. "As the princess had absolute control of the wealth of her deadhusband, the Duke de Nevers, and as she promised to allow my master theuse of her fortune as long as he--"

  Again he paused, and AEsop interpolated: "Left her in peace."

  Peyrolles accepted the suggestion. "Exactly--my master, who is a perfectgentleman, accepted the situation. Since that day they seldom meet,seldom speak. The princess always wears mourning--"

  AEsop shivered. "Cheerful spouse."

  Peyrolles went on: "While the Prince de Gonzague lives a bright life, andsets the mode in wit, dress, vice--in every way the perfect gentleman,and now the favorite companion and friend of his melancholy majesty,whose natural sadness at the loss of the great cardinal he does his bestto alleviate."

  AEsop laughed mockingly as Peyrolles mouthed his approvals. "Lucky groom.But if he can spend the money, why does he want the girl?"

  Peyrolles answered, promptly: "To please the princess, and prove himselfthe devoted husband."

  AEsop was persistent: "What is the real reason?"

  Peyrolles, with a grimace, again consented to be frank: "As Mademoisellede Nevers is not proved to be dead, the law assumes her to be alive, andit is as the guardian of this impalpable young person that my dear masterhandles the revenues of Nevers. If she were certainly dead, my masterwould inherit."

  AEsop still required information. "Then why the devil does he want toprove that she lives?"

  There was again a touch of condescension in Peyrolles's manner: "You arenot so keen as you think, good AEsop. Mademoiselle de Nevers, recovered,restored to her mother's arms, the recognized heiress of so much wealth,might seem to be a very lucky young woman. But even lucky young women arenot immortal."

  AEsop chuckled. "Oh, oh, oh! If the lost-and-found young lady were to diesoon after her recovery the good Louis de Gonzague would inherit withoutfurther question. I fear my little gypsy is not promised a long life."

  Peyrolles smiled sourly. "Let me see your little gypsy."

  AEsop hesitated for a moment. It evidently went against his grain tooblige Peyrolles--or, for that matter, any man, in anything; but in thisinstance to oblige served his own turn. He rose, and, passing the door ofthe Inn, crossed the space of common land to where the caravan stood, adeserted monument of green and red.

  The hunchback tapped at the door and whispered through the lock: "Are youthere, Flora?"

  A woman's voice answered from within--a young voice, a sweet voice, aslightly impatient voice. "Yes," it said.

  "Come out," AEsop commanded, curtly.

  Then the gaudy door of the caravan yielded, and a pretty gypsy girtappeared in the opening. She was dark-haired, she was bright-eyed, shewas warmly colored. She seemed to be about eighteen years of age, but herfigure already had a rich Spanish fulness and her carriage was swayingand voluptuous. Most men would have been glad enough to stand for a whilein adoration of so pleasing a picture, but AEsop was not as most men. Hisattitude to women when they concerned him personally was not ofadoration. In this case the girl did not concern him personally, and hehad no interest in her youth or her charms save in so far as they mightserve the business he had in hand.

  The girl looked at him with a little frown, and spoke with a little noteof fretfulness in her voice: "So you have come at last. I have been sotired of waiting for you, mewed up in there."

  AEsop answered her, roughly: "That's my business. Here is a gentleman whowants to speak with you."

  As he spoke he beckoned to Peyrolles, who rose from his seat and movedwith what he considered to be dignity towards the pair, making great playof cane, great play of handkerchief, great play of jewelled-hilted swordflapping against neatly stockinged leg.

  He saluted the gypsy in what he conceived to be the grand manner. "Canyou tell fortunes, pretty one?"

  The gypsy laughed, and showed good teeth as she did so. "Surely, on thepalm or with the cards--all ways."

  "Can you tell your own fortune?" Peyrolles questioned, with a faint tingeof malice in the words.

  Flora laughed again, and answered, unhesitatingly: "To dance my waythrough the world, to enjoy myself as much as I can in the sunshine, toplease pretty gentlemen, to have money to spend, to wear fine clothes anddo nice things and enjoy myself, to laugh often and cry little. That ismy fortune, I hope."

  Peyrolles shook his head and looked very wise. "Perhaps I can tell you abetter fortune."

  Flora was impressed by the manner of the grand gentleman, for to her heseemed a grand gentleman. "Tell me, quick!" she entreated.

  Peyrolles condescended to explain: "Seventeen years ago a girl of noblebirth, one year old, was stolen from her mother and given to gypsies."

  Flora, listening, counted on her fingers: "Seventeen, one, eighteen--why,just my age."

  Peyrolles approved. "You are hearing the voice of Nature--excellent."

  AEsop put in his word: "That mother has been looking for her child eversince."

  Peyrolles summed up the situation with a malign smile: "We believe wehave found her."

  Flora began to catch the drift of the conversation, and was eager formore knowledge. "Go on--go on! I always dreamed of being a great lady."

  Peyrolles raised a chastening finger. "Patience, child, patience. Theprince, my master, honors the fair to-day in company with a most exaltedpersonage. I will bring him here to see you dance. If he recognizes you,your fortune is made."

  Flora questioned, cunningly: "How can he recognize a child of one?"

  Peyrolles lifted to his eyes the elaborately laced kerchief he had beencarrying in his right hand, and appeared to be a prey to violentemotions. "Your father was his dearest friend," he murmured, in a tearfulvoice. "He would see his features in you."

  Flora clapped her hands. "I hope he will."

  AEsop, looking cynically from the girl to the man and from the man to thegirl, commented, dryly: "I think he will."

  Peyrolles considered the interview had lasted long enough. He signed tothe girl to retire with the air of a grandee dismissing some vassal."Enough. Retire to your van till I come for you."

  Flora pouted and pleaded: "Don't be long. I'm tired of being in there."

  AEsop snapped at her, sharply: "Do as you are told. You are not a princessyet."

  The girl frowned, the girl's eyes flashed, but her acquaintance with AEsophad given her the thoroughly justifiable impression that he was a manwhom it was better to obey, and she retired into the caravan and shut thegreen-and-red door with a bang behind her.

  AEsop turned with a questioning grin to Peyrolles. "Well?" he said.

  Peyrolles looked approval. "I think she'll do. I'll go and find theprince at once."

  "I will go a little way with you," AEsop said, more perhaps because hethought his company might exasperate the sham grand man than for anyother reason. He knew Peyrolles would think it unbecoming his dignity tobe seen in close companionship with the shabbily habited hunchback, hencehis display of friendship. As he l
inked his black arm in the yellow-satinarm of Peyrolles, he added: "I have taken every care to make our taleseem plausible. The gypsies will swear that they stole her seventeenyears ago."

  Peyrolles nodded, looking askance at him, and wishing that destiny hadnot compelled him to make use of such an over-familiar agent, and theprecious pair went over the bridge together and disappeared from theneighborhood of the little Inn, and the spirit of solitude seemed againto brood over the locality. But it was not suffered to brood for verylong. As soon as the voices and the footsteps of Peyrolles and AEsop wereno longer audible; the green-and-red door of the caravan was againcautiously opened, and cautiously the head of the pretty gypsy girl wasthrust out into the air. When she saw that the pair had disappeared, sheran lightly down the steps of the caravan, and, crossing the common,paused under the windows of the Inn, where she began to sing in a sweet,rich voice a verse of a Spanish gypsy song:

  "Come to the window, dear; Listen and lean while I say A Romany word in your ear, And whistle your heart away."