by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XLIII. A FALSE FRIEND.
Night had set in dark and cold. The sky, which had been clear till thesun went down, was now covered with gray and lurid clouds; a strong windraised here and there, in circling eddies, the snow that was beginningto fall thick and fast.
The lamps threw a dubious light into the interior of Dr. Baleinier'scarriage, in which he was seated alone with Adrienne de Cardoville.The charming countenance of the latter, faintly illumined by the lampsbeneath the shade of her little gray hat, looked doubly white and purein contrast with the dark lining of the carriage, which was now filledwith that, sweet, delicious, and almost voluptuous perfume which hangsabout the garments of young women of taste. The attitude of the girl,seated next to the doctor, was full of grace. Her slight and elegantfigure, imprisoned in her high-necked dress of blue cloth, imprinted itswavy outline on the soft cushion against which she leaned; her littlefeet, crossed one upon the other, and stretched rather forward, restedupon a thick bear-skin, which carpeted the bottom of the carriage.In her hand, which was ungloved and dazzlingly white, she held amagnificently embroidered handkerchief, with which, to the greatastonishment of M. Baleinier, she dried her eyes, now filled with tears.
Yes; Adrienne wept, for she now felt the reaction from the painfulscenes through which she had passed at Saint-Dizier House; to thefeverish and nervous excitement, which had till then sustained her, hadsucceeded a sorrowful dejection. Resolute in her independence, proudin her disdain, implacable in her irony, audacious in her resistanceto unjust oppression, Adrienne was yet endowed with the most acutesensibility, which she always dissembled, however, in the presence ofher aunt and those who surrounded her.
Notwithstanding her courage, no one could have been less masculine, lessof a virago, than Mdlle. Cardoville. She was essentially womanly, but asa woman, she knew how to exercise great empire over herself, the momentthat the least mark of weakness on her part would have rejoiced oremboldened her enemies.
The carriage had rolled onwards for some minutes; but Adrienne, dryingher tears in silence, to the doctor's great astonishment, had not yetuttered a word.
"What, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne?" said M. Baleinier, truly surprised ather emotion; "what! you, that were just now so courageous, weeping?"
"Yes," answered Adrienne, in an agitated voice; "I weep in presence of afriend; but, before my aunt--oh! never."
"And yet, in that long interview, your stinging replies--"
"Ah me! do you think that I resigned myself with pleasure to that warof sarcasm? Nothing is more painful to me than such combats of bitterirony, to which I am forced by the necessity of defending myselffrom this woman and her friends. You speak of my courage: it does notconsist, I assure you, in the display of wicked feelings--but in thepower to repress and hide all that I suffer, when I hear myselftreated so grossly--in the presence, too, of people that I hate anddespise--when, after all, I have never done them any harm, and have onlyasked to be allowed to live alone, freely and quietly, and see thoseabout me happy."
"That's where it is: they envy your happiness, and that which you bestowupon others."
"And it is my aunt," cried Adrienne, with indignation, "my aunt, whosewhole life has been one long scandal that accuses me in this revoltingmanner!--as if she did not know me proud and honest enough never tomake a choice of which I should be ashamed! Oh! if I ever love, I shallproclaim it, I shall be proud of it: for love, as I understand it, isthe most glorious feeling in the world. But, alas!" continued Adrienne,with redoubled bitterness, "of what use are truth and honor, if they donot secure you from suspicions, which are as absurd as they are odious?"So saying, she again pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Come, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne," said M. Baleinier, in a voice fullof the softest unction, "becalm--it is all over now. You have in me adevoted friend." As he pronounced these last words, he blushed in spiteof his diabolical craft.
"I know you are my friend," said Adrienne: "I shall never forget that,by taking my part to-day, you exposed yourself to the resentment of myaunt--for I am not ignorant of her power, which is very great, alas! forevil."
"As for that," said the doctor, affecting a profound indifference, "wemedical men are pretty safe from personal enmities."
"Nay, my dear M. Baleinier! Mme. de Saint-Dizier and her friendsnever forgive," said the young girl, with a shudder. "It needed all myinvincible aversion, my innate horror for all that is base, cowardly,and perfidious, to induce me to break so openly with her. But if deathitself were the penalty, I could not hesitate and yet," she added, withone of those graceful smiles which gave such a charm to her beautifulcountenance, "yet I am fond of life: if I have to reproach myselfwith anything, it is that I would have it too bright, too fair, tooharmonious; but then, you know, I am resigned to my faults."
"Well, come, I am more tranquil," said the doctor, gayly; "for yousmile--that is a good sign."
"It is often the wisest course; and yet, ought I smile, after thethreats that my aunt has held out to me? Still, what can she do? what isthe meaning of this kind of family council? Did she seriously think thatthe advice of a M. D'Aigrigny or a M. Tripeaud could have influenced me?And then she talked of rigorous measures. What measures can she take; doyou know?"
"I think, between ourselves, that the princess only wished to frightenyou, and hopes to succeed by persuasion. She has the misfortune to fancyherself a mother of the Church, and dreams of your conversion," said thedoctor, maliciously, for he now wished to tranquillize Adrienne at anycost; "but let us think no more about it. Your fire eyes must shine withall their lustre, to fascinate the minister that we are going to see."
"You are right, dear doctor; we ought always avoid grief, for it has thedisadvantage of making us forget the sorrows of others. But here amI, availing myself of your kindness, without even telling you what Irequire."
"Luckily, we shall have plenty of time to talk over it, for ourstatesman lives at some distance."
"In two words, here's the mystery," answered Adrienne. "I told you whatreasons I had to interest myself in that honest workman. This morning hecame to me in great grief, to inform me that he was compromised by somesongs he had written (for he is a poet), and that, though innocent,he was threatened with an arrest; and if they put him into prison, hisfamily, whose sole support he is, would die of hunger. Therefore he cameto beg me to procure bail for him, so that he might be left at libertyto work: I promised immediately, thinking of your interest with theminister; for, as they were already in pursuit of the poor lad, I choseto conceal him in my residence, and you know how my aunt has twistedthat action. Now tell me, do you think, that, by means of yourrecommendation, the minister will grant me the freedom of this workman,bail being given for the same?"
"No doubt of it. There will not be the shadow of adifficulty--especially when you have explained the facts to him, withthat eloquence of the heart which you possess in perfection."
"Do you know, my dear Dr. Baleinier, why I have taken the resolution(which is perhaps a strange one) to ask you to accompany me to theminister's?"
"Why, doubtless, to recommend your friend in a more effective manner."
"Yes--but also to put an end, by a decisive step, to the calumnies whichmy aunt will be sure to spread with regard to me, and which she hasalready, you know, had inserted in the report of the commissary ofpolice. I have preferred to address myself at once, frankly and openly,to a man placed in a high social position. I will explain all to him,who will believe me, because truth has an accent of its own."
"All this, my dear Mdlle. Adrienne, is wisely planned. You will, as thesaw says, kill two birds with one stone--or rather, you will obtain byone act of kindness two acts of justice; you will destroy a dangerouscalumny, and restore a worthy youth to liberty."
"Come," said Adrienne, laughing, "thanks to this pleasing prospect, mylight heart has returned."
"How true that in life," said the doctor, philosophically, "everythingdepends on the point of view."
Adrienne
was so completely ignorant of the forms of a constitutionalgovernment, and had so blind a confidence in the doctor, that she didnot doubt for an instant what he told her. She therefore resumed withjoy: "What happiness it will be! when I go to fetch the daughters ofMarshal Simon, to be able to console this workman's mother, who is nowperhaps in a state of cruel anxiety, at not seeing her son return home!"
"Yes, you will have this pleasure," said M. Baleinier, with a smile;"for we will solicit and intrigue to such purpose, that the good, mothermay learn from you the release of her son before she even knows that hehas been arrested."
"How kind, how obliging you are!" said Adrienne. "Really, if the motivewere not so serious, I should be ashamed of making you lose so muchprecious time, my dear M. Baleinier. But I know your heart."
"I have no other wish, than to prove to you my profound devotion, mysincere attachment," said the doctor inhaling a pinch of snuff. Butat the same time, he cast an uneasy glance through the window, for thecarriage was just crossing the Place de l'Odeon, and in spite ofthe snow, he could see the front of the Odeon theatre brilliantlyilluminated. Now Adrienne, who had just turned her head towards thatside, might perhaps be astonished at the singular road they were taking.
In order to draw off her attention by a skillful diversion, the doctorexclaimed suddenly: "Bless me! I had almost forgotten."
"What is the matter, M. Baleinier?" said Adrienne, turning hastilytowards him.
"I had forgotten a thing of the highest importance, in regard to thesuccess of our petition."
"What is it, please?" asked the young girl, anxiously.
M. Baleinier gave a cunning smile. "Every man," said he, "has hisweakness--ministers even more than others. The one we are going to visithas the folly to attach the utmost importance to his title, and thefirst impression would be unfavorable, if you did not lay great stresson the Minister."
"Is that all, my dear M. Baleinier?" said Adrienne, smiling in her turn."I will even go so far as Your Excellency, which is, I believe, one ofhis adopted titles."
"Not now--but that is no matter; if you could even slide in a My Lord ortwo, our business would be done at once."
"Be satisfied! since there are upstart ministers as well as City-turnedgentlemen, I will remember Moliere's M. Jourdain, and feed full thegluttonous vanity of your friend."
"I give him up to you, for I know he will be in good hands," replied thephysician, who rejoiced to see that the carriage had now entered thosedark streets which lead from the Place de l'Odeon to the Pantheondistrict; "I do not wish to find fault with the minister for beingproud, since his pride may be of service to us on this occasion."
"These petty devices are innocent enough," said Mdlle. de Cardoville,"and I confess that I do not scruple to have recourse to them." Then,leaning towards the door-sash, she added: "Gracious! how sad and darkare these streets. What wind! what snow! In which quarter are we?"
"What! are you so ungrateful, that you do not recognize by the absenceof shops, your dear quarter of the Faubourg Saint Germain?"
"I imagine we had quitted it long ago."
"I thought so too," said the physician, leaning forward as if toascertain where they were, "but we are still there. My poor coachman,blinded by the snow, which is beating against his face, must have gonewrong just now--but we are all right again. Yes, I perceive we are inthe Rue Saint Guillaume--not the gayest of streets by the way--but, inten minutes, we shall arrive at the minister's private entrance, forintimate friends like myself enjoy the privilege of escaping the honorsof a grand reception."
Mdlle. de Cardoville, like most carriage-people, was so littleacquainted with certain streets of Paris, as well as with the customsof men in office, that she did not doubt for a moment the statements ofBaleinier, in whom she reposed the utmost confidence.
When they left the Saint-Dizier House, the doctor had upon his lips aquestion which he hesitated to put, for fear of endangering himself inthe eyes of Adrienne. The latter had spoken of important interests, theexistence of which had been concealed from her. The doctor, who wasan acute and skillful observer, had quite clearly remarked theembarrassment and anxiety of the princess and D'Aigrigny. He no longerdoubted, that the plot directed against Adrienne--one in which he wasthe blind agent, in submission to the will of the Order--related tointerests which had been concealed from him, and which, for that veryreason, he burned to discover; for every member of the dark conspiracyto which he belonged had necessarily acquired the odious vices inherentto spies and informers--envy, suspicion, and jealous curiosity.
It is easy to understand, therefore, that Dr. Baleinier, though quitedetermined to serve the projects of D'Aigrigny, was yet very anxiousto learn what had been kept from him. Conquering his irresolution, andfinding the opportunity favorable, and no time to be lost, he said toAdrienne, after a moment's silence: "I am going perhaps to ask you avery indiscreet question. If you think it such, pray do not answer."
"Nay--go on, I entreat you."
"Just now--a few minutes before the arrival of the commissary of policewas announced to your aunt--you spoke, I think, of some great interests,which had hitherto been concealed from you."
"Yes, I did so."
"These words," continued M. Baleinier, speaking slowly and emphatically,"appeared to make a deep impression on the princess."
"An impression so deep," said Adrienne, "that sundry suspicions of minewere changed to certainty."
"I need not tell you, my charming friend," resumed M. Baleinier, in abland tone, "that if I remind you of this circumstance, it is only tooffer you my services, in case they should be required. If not--andthere is the shadow of impropriety in letting me know more--forget thatI have said a word."
Adrienne became serious and pensive, and, after a silence of somemoments, she thus answered Dr. Baleinier: "On this subject, there aresome things that I do not know--others that I may tell you--others againthat I must keep from you: but you are so kind to-day, that I am happyto be able to give you a new mark of confidence."
"Then I wish to know nothing," said the doctor, with an air of humbledeprecation, "for I should have the appearance of accepting a kind ofreward; whilst I am paid a thousand times over, by the pleasure I feelin serving you."
"Listen," said Adrienne, without attending to the delicate scruples ofDr. Baleinier; "I have powerful reasons for believing that an immenseinheritance must, at no very distant period, be divided betweenthe members of my family, all of whom I do not know--for, after theRevocation of the Edict of Nantes, those from whom we are descendedwere dispersed in foreign countries, and experienced a great variety offortunes."
"Really!" cried the doctor, becoming extremely interested. "Where isthis inheritance, in whose hands?"
"I do not know."
"Now how will you assert your rights?"
"That I shall learn soon."
"Who will inform you of it?"
"That I may not tell you."
"But how did you find out the existence of this inheritance?"
"That also I may not tell you," returned Adrienne, in a soft andmelancholy tone, which remarkably contrasted with the habitual vivacityof her conversation. "It is a secret--a strange secret--and in thosemoments of excitement, in which you have sometimes surprised me, I havebeen thinking of extraordinary circumstances connected with this secret,which awakened within me lofty and magnificent ideas."
Adrienne paused and was silent, absorbed in her own reflections.Baleinier did not seek to disturb her. In the first place, Mdlle.de Cardoville did not perceive the direction the coach was taking;secondly, the doctor was not sorry to ponder over what he had justheard. With his usual perspicuity, he saw that the Abbe d'Aigrignywas concerned in this inheritance, and he resolved instantly to make asecret report on the subject; either M. d'Aigrigny was acting under theinstructions of the Order, or by his own impulse; in the one event, thereport of the doctor would confirm a fact; in the other, it would revealone.
For some time, therefore, the lady and Dr. Balei
nier remained perfectlysilent, no longer even disturbed by the noise of the wheels, for thecarriage now rolled over a thick carpet of snow, and the streets hadbecome more and more deserted. Notwithstanding his crafty treachery,notwithstanding his audacity and the blindness of his dupe, the doctorwas not quite tranquil as to the result of his machinations. Thecritical moment approached, and the least suspicion roused in themind of Adrienne by any inadvertence on his part, might ruin all hisprojects.
Adrienne, already fatigued by the painful emotions of the day, shudderedfrom time to time, as the cold became more and more piercing; in herhaste to accompany Dr. Baleinier, she had neglected to take either shawlor mantle.
For some minutes the coach had followed the line of a very high wall,which, seen through the snow, looked white against a black sky. Thesilence was deep and mournful. Suddenly the carriage stopped, andthe footman went to knock at a large gateway; he first gave two rapidknocks, and then one other at a long interval. Adrienne did not noticethe circumstance, for the noise was not loud, and the doctor hadimmediately begun to speak, to drown with his voice this species ofsignal.
"Here we are at last," said he gayly to Adrienne; "you must be verywinning--that is, you must be yourself."
"Be sure I will do my best," replied Adrienne, with a smile; then sheadded, shivering in spite of herself: "How dreadfully cold it is! I mustconfess, my dear Dr. Baleinier, that when I have been to fetch my poorlittle relations from the house of our workman's mother, I shall betruly glad to find myself once more in the warmth and light of my owncheerful rooms, for you know my aversion to cold and darkness."
"It is quite natural," said the doctor, gallantly; "the most charmingflowers require the most light and heat."
Whilst the doctor and Mdlle. de Cardoville exchanged these few words,a heavy gate had turned creaking upon its hinges, and the carriage hadentered a court-yard. The physician got down first, to offer his arm toAdrienne.
