CHAPTER X. CONTRITION
Mlle. de Kercadiou walked with her aunt in the bright morning sunshineof a Sunday in March on the broad terrace of the Chateau de Sautron.
For one of her natural sweetness of disposition she had been oddlyirritable of late, manifesting signs of a cynical worldliness, whichconvinced Mme. de Sautron more than ever that her brother Quintinhad scandalously conducted the child's education. She appeared to beinstructed in all the things of which a girl is better ignorant, andignorant of all the things that a girl should know. That at least wasthe point of view of Mme. de Sautron.
"Tell me, madame," quoth Aline, "are all men beasts?" Unlike herbrother, Madame la Comtesse was tall and majestically built. In the daysbefore her marriage with M. de Sautron, ill-natured folk described heras the only man in the family. She looked down now from her noble heightupon her little niece with startled eyes.
"Really, Aline, you have a trick of asking the most disconcerting andimproper questions."
"Perhaps it is because I find life disconcerting and improper."
"Life? A young girl should not discuss life."
"Why not, since I am alive? You do not suggest that it is an improprietyto be alive?"
"It is an impropriety for a young unmarried girl to seek to know toomuch about life. As for your absurd question about men, when I remindyou that man is the noblest work of God, perhaps you will consideryourself answered."
Mme. de Sautron did not invite a pursuance of the subject. But Mlle. deKercadiou's outrageous rearing had made her headstrong.
"That being so," said she, "will you tell me why they find such anoverwhelming attraction in the immodest of our sex?"
Madame stood still and raised shocked hands. Then she looked down herhandsome, high-bridged nose.
"Sometimes--often, in fact, my dear Aline--you pass all understanding.I shall write to Quintin that the sooner you are married the better itwill be for all."
"Uncle Quintin has left that matter to my own deciding," Aline remindedher.
"That," said madame with complete conviction, "is the last and mostoutrageous of his errors. Who ever heard of a girl being left to decidethe matter of her own marriage? It is... indelicate almost to expose herto thoughts of such things." Mme. de Sautron shuddered. "Quintin is aboor. His conduct is unheard of. That M. de La Tour d'Azyr should paradehimself before you so that you may make up your mind whether he is theproper man for you!" Again she shuddered. "It is of a grossness, of...of a prurience almost... Mon Dieu! When I married your uncle, all thiswas arranged between our parents. I first saw him when he came to signthe contract. I should have died of shame had it been otherwise. Andthat is how these affairs should be conducted."
"You are no doubt right, madame. But since that is not how my own caseis being conducted, you will forgive me if I deal with it apart fromothers. M. de La Tour d'Azyr desires to marry me. He has been permittedto pay his court. I should be glad to have him informed that he maycease to do so."
Mme. de Sautron stood still, petrified by amazement. Her long faceturned white; she seemed to breathe with difficulty.
"But... but... what are you saying?" she gasped.
Quietly Aline repeated her statement.
"But this is outrageous! You cannot be permitted to play fast-and-loosewith a gentleman of M. le Marquis' quality! Why, it is little more thana week since you permitted him to be informed that you would become hiswife!"
"I did so in a moment of... rashness. Since then M. le Marquis' ownconduct has convinced me of my error."
"But--mon Dieu!" cried the Countess. "Are you blind to the great honourthat is being paid you? M. le Marquis will make you the first lady inBrittany. Yet, little fool that you are, and greater fool that Quintinis, you trifle with this extraordinary good fortune! Let me warn you."She raised an admonitory forefinger. "If you continue in this stupidhumour M. de La Tour d'Azyr may definitely withdraw his offer and departin justified mortification."
"That, madame, as I am endeavouring to convey to you, is what I mostdesire."
"Oh, you are mad."
"It may be, madame, that I am sane in preferring to be guided by myinstincts. It may be even that I am justified in resenting that the manwho aspires to become my husband should at the same time be paying suchassiduous homage to a wretched theatre girl at the Feydau."
"Aline!"
"Is it not true? Or perhaps you do not find it strange that M. de LaTour d'Azyr should so conduct himself at such a time?"
"Aline, you are so extraordinary a mixture. At moments you shock me bythe indecency of your expressions; at others you amaze me by the excessof your prudery. You have been brought up like a little bourgeoise, Ithink. Yes, that is it--a little bourgeoise. Quintin was always somethingof a shopkeeper at heart."
"I was asking your opinion on the conduct of M. de La Tour d'Azyr,madame. Not on my own."
"But it is an indelicacy in you to observe such things. You should beignorant of them, and I can't think who is so... so unfeeling as toinform you. But since you are informed, at least you should be modestlyblind to things that take place outside the... orbit of a properlyconducted demoiselle."
"Will they still be outside my orbit when I am married?"
"If you are wise. You should remain without knowledge of them. It... itdeflowers your innocence. I would not for the world that M. de La Tourd'Azyr should know you so extraordinarily instructed. Had you beenproperly reared in a convent this would never have happened to you."
"But you do not answer me, madame!" cried Aline in despair. "It is notmy chastity that is in question but that of M. de La Tour d'Azyr."
"Chastity!" Madame's lips trembled with horror. Horror overspread herface. "Wherever did you learn that dreadful, that so improper word?"
And then Mme. de Sautron did violence to her feelings. She realized thathere great calm and prudence were required. "My child, since you know somuch that you ought not to know, there can be no harm in my adding thata gentleman must have these little distractions."
"But why, madame? Why is it so?"
"Ah, mon Dieu, you are asking me riddles of nature. It is so because itis so. Because men are like that."
"Because men are beasts, you mean--which is what I began by asking you."
"You are incorrigibly stupid, Aline."
"You mean that I do not see things as you do, madame. I am notover-expectant as you appear to think; yet surely I have the right toexpect that whilst M. de La Tour d'Azyr is wooing me, he shall not bewooing at the same time a drab of the theatre. I feel that in this thereis a subtle association of myself with that unspeakable creature whichsoils and insults me. The Marquis is a dullard whose wooing takes theform at best of stilted compliments, stupid and unoriginal. They gainnothing when they fall from lips still warm from the contamination ofthat woman's kisses."
So utterly scandalized was madame that for a moment she remainedspeechless. Then--
"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed. "I should never have suspected you of soindelicate an imagination."
"I cannot help it, madame. Each time his lips touch my fingers I findmyself thinking of the last object that they touched. I at once retireto wash my hands. Next time, madame, unless you are good enough toconvey my message to him, I shall call for water and wash them in hispresence."
"But what am I to tell him? How... in what words can I convey such amessage?" Madame was aghast.
"Be frank with him, madame. It is easiest in the end. Tell him thathowever impure may have been his life in the past, however impure heintend that it shall be in the future, he must at least study puritywhilst approaching with a view to marriage a virgin who is herself pureand without stain."
Madame recoiled, and put her hands to her ears, horror stamped on herhandsome face. Her massive bosom heaved.
"Oh, how can you?" she panted. "How can you make use of such terribleexpressions? Wherever have you learnt them?"
"In church," said Aline.
"Ah, but in church many things are said that...
that one would not dreamof saying in the world. My dear child, how could I possibly say such athing to M. le Marquis? How could I possibly?"
"Shall I say it?"
"Aline!"
"Well, there it is," said Aline. "Something must be done to shelter mefrom insult. I am utterly disgusted with M. le Marquis--a disgusting man.And however fine a thing it may be to become Marquise de La Tour d'Azyr,why, frankly, I'd sooner marry a cobbler who practised decency."
Such was her vehemence and obvious determination that Mme. de Sautronfetched herself out of her despair to attempt persuasion. Aline was herniece, and such a marriage in the family would be to the credit of thewhole of it. At all costs nothing must frustrate it.
"Listen, my dear," she said. "Let us reason. M. le Marquis is away andwill not be back until to-morrow."
"True. And I know where he has gone--or at least whom he has gone with.Mon Dieu, and the drab has a father and a lout of a fellow who intendsto make her his wife, and neither of them chooses to do anything. Isuppose they agree with you, madame, that a great gentleman must havehis little distractions." Her contempt was as scorching as a thing offire. "However, madame, you were about to say?"
"That on the day after to-morrow you are returning to Gavrillac. M. deLa Tour d'Azyr will most likely follow at his leisure."
"You mean when this dirty candle is burnt out?"
"Call it what you will." Madame, you see, despaired by now ofcontrolling the impropriety of her niece's expressions. "At Gavrillacthere will be no Mlle. Binet. This thing will be in the past. It isunfortunate that he should have met her at such a moment. The chit isvery attractive, after all. You cannot deny that. And you must makeallowances."
"M. le Marquis formally proposed to me a week ago. Partly to satisfy thewishes of the family, and partly..." She broke off, hesitating a moment,to resume on a note of dull pain, "Partly because it does not seemgreatly to matter whom I marry, I gave him my consent. That consent,for the reasons I have given you, madame, I desire now definitely towithdraw."
Madame fell into agitation of the wildest. "Aline, I should neverforgive you! Your uncle Quintin would be in despair. You do not knowwhat you are saying, what a wonderful thing you are refusing. Have youno sense of your position, of the station into which you were born?"
"If I had not, madame, I should have made an end long since. If I havetolerated this suit for a single moment, it is because I realize theimportance of a suitable marriage in the worldly sense. But I ask ofmarriage something more; and Uncle Quintin has placed the decision in myhands."
"God forgive him!" said madame. And then she hurried on: "Leave thisto me now, Aline. Be guided by me--oh, be guided by me!" Her tone wasbeseeching. "I will take counsel with your uncle Charles. But do notdefinitely decide until this unfortunate affair has blown over. Charleswill know how to arrange it. M. le Marquis shall do penance, child,since your tyranny demands it; but not in sackcloth and ashes. You'llnot ask so much?"
Aline shrugged. "I ask nothing at all," she said, which was neitherassent nor dissent.
So Mme. de Sautron interviewed her husband, a slight, middle-aged man,very aristocratic in appearance and gifted with a certain shrewd sense.She took with him precisely the tone that Aline had taken with herselfand which in Aline she had found so disconcertingly indelicate. She evenborrowed several of Aline's phrases.
The result was that on the Monday afternoon when at last M. de La Tourd'Azyr's returning berline drove up to the chateau, he was met by M. leComte de Sautron who desired a word with him even before he changed.
"Gervais, you're a fool," was the excellent opening made by M. le Comte.
"Charles, you give me no news," answered M. le Marquis. "Of whatparticular folly do you take the trouble to complain?"
He flung himself wearily upon a sofa, and his long graceful bodysprawling there he looked up at his friend with a tired smile on thatnobly handsome pale face that seemed to defy the onslaught of age.
"Of your last. This Binet girl."
"That! Pooh! An incident; hardly a folly."
"A folly--at such a time," Sautron insisted. The Marquis looked aquestion. The Count answered it. "Aline," said he, pregnantly. "Sheknows. How she knows I can't tell you, but she knows, and she is deeplyoffended."
The smile perished on the Marquis' face. He gathered himself up.
"Offended?" said he, and his voice was anxious.
"But yes. You know what she is. You know the ideals she has formed. Itwounds her that at such a time--whilst you are here for the purpose ofwooing her--you should at the same time be pursuing this affair with thatchit of a Binet girl."
"How do you know?" asked La Tour d'Azyr.
"She has confided in her aunt. And the poor child seems to have somereason. She says she will not tolerate that you should come to kiss herhand with lips that are still contaminated from... Oh, you understand.You appreciate the impression of such a thing upon a pure, sensitivegirl such as Aline. She said--I had better tell you--that the nexttime you kiss her hand, she will call for water and wash it in yourpresence."
The Marquis' face flamed scarlet. He rose. Knowing his violent,intolerant spirit, M. de Sautron was prepared for an outburst. But nooutburst came. The Marquis turned away from him, and paced slowly tothe window, his head bowed, his hands behind his back. Halted there hespoke, without turning, his voice was at once scornful and wistful.
"You are right, Charles, I am a fool--a wicked fool! I have just enoughsense left to perceive it. It is the way I have lived, I suppose. I havenever known the need to deny myself anything I wanted." Then suddenly heswung round, and the outburst came. "But, my God, I want Aline as Ihave never wanted anything yet! I think I should kill myself in rage ifthrough my folly I should have lost her." He struck his brow with hishand. "I am a beast!" he said. "I should have known that if that sweetsaint got word of these petty devilries of mine she would despise me;and I tell you, Charles, I'd go through fire to regain her respect."
"I hope it is to be regained on easier terms," said Charles; and thento ease the situation which began to irk him by its solemnity, he madea feeble joke. "It is merely asked of you that you refrain from goingthrough certain fires that are not accounted by mademoiselle of toopurifying a nature."
"As to that Binet girl, it is finished--finished," said the Marquis.
"I congratulate you. When did you make that decision?"
"This moment. I would to God I had made it twenty-four hours ago. As itis--" he shrugged--"why, twenty-four hours of her have been enough forme as they would have been for any man--a mercenary, self-seeking littlebaggage with the soul of a trull. Bah!" He shuddered in disgust ofhimself and her.
"Ah! That makes it easier for you," said M. de Sautron, cynically.
"Don't say it, Charles. It is not so. Had you been less of a fool, youwould have warned me sooner."
"I may prove to have warned you soon enough if you'll profit by thewarning."
"There is no penance I will not do. I will prostrate myself at her feet.I will abase myself before her. I will make confession in the properspirit of contrition, and Heaven helping me, I'll keep to my purpose ofamendment for her sweet sake." He was tragically in earnest.
To M. de Sautron, who had never seen him other than self-contained,supercilious, and mocking, this was an amazing revelation. He shrankfrom it almost; it gave him the feeling of prying, of peeping through akeyhole. He slapped his friend's shoulder.
"My dear Gervais, here is a magnificently romantic mood. Enough said.Keep to it, and I promise you that all will presently be well. I will beyour ambassador, and you shall have no cause to complain."
"But may I not go to her myself?"
"If you are wise you will at once efface yourself. Write to her if youwill--make your act of contrition by letter. I will explain why you havegone without seeing her. I will tell her that you did so upon my advice,and I will do it tactfully. I am a good diplomat, Gervais. Trust me."
M. le Marquis raised his head, and showed a face
that pain was searing.He held out his hand. "Very well, Charles. Serve me in this, and countme your friend in all things."
Scaramouche: A Romance of the French Revolution Page 19
