The Mesmerist's Victim

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  FATHER AND SON.

  The knight of Redcastle knew he should find his father at their ParisLodgings. Since his rupture with Richelieu, he found life insupportableat Versailles and he tried to conquer torpor by agitation, and by changeof residence.

  With frightful spells of swearing, he was pacing the little garden whenhe saw his son appear. In his expectation he snapped at any branch. Hegreeted him with a mixture of spite and curiosity; but when he saw hismoody face, paleness, rigid lines of feature, and set of the mouth, itfroze the flow of questions he was about to let go.

  "You? by what hazard?"

  "I am bringing bad news," returned the captain gravely.

  The baron staggered.

  "Are we quite alone?" asked the younger man.

  "Yes."

  "But I think we had better go in, as certain things should not be spokenunder the light of heaven."

  Affecting unconcern and even to smile, the baron followed his son intothe low sitting room where Philip carefully closed the doors.

  "Father, my sister and I are going to take leave of you."

  "What is this?" said the old noble surprised. "How about the army?"

  "I am not in the army: happily, the King does not require my services."

  "I do not understand the 'happily?'"

  "I am not driven to the extremity of preferring dishonor tofortune--there you have it."

  "But your sister? does she entertain the same ideas about duty?" askedthe baron frowning.

  "She has had to rank them beneath those the utmost necessity."

  The baron rose from his chair, grumbling:

  "What a foolish pack these riddle-makers are!"

  "If what I say is an enigma to you, then I will make it clear. My sisteris obliged to go away lest she be dishonored."

  The baron laughed.

  "Thunder, what model children I have!" he sneered. "The boy gives up hisregiment and the girl a stool-of-state at a princess's feet, all forfear of dishonor. We are going back to the time of Brutus and Lucretia.In my era, though we had no philosophy, if any one saw dishonor coming,he whipped out his sword and ran the dishonor through the middle. I knowit was a sharp method, for a philosopher who does not like to seebloodshed. But, any way, military officers are not cut out forphilosophers."

  "I have as much consciousness as you on what honor imposes; but bloodwill not redeem---- "

  "A truce to your pretty phrases of philosophy," cried the old man;irritated into trying to be majesty. "I came near saying poltroons."

  "You were quite right not to say it," retorted the young chevalier,quivering.

  The baron proudly bore the threatening and implacable glance.

  "I thought that a man was born to me in my house," said he: "a man whowould cut out the tongue of the first knave who dared to tell ofdishonor to the Taverney Redcastles."

  "Sometimes the shame comes from an inevitable misfortune, sir, and thatis the case of my sister and myself."

  "I pass to the lady. If according to my reasoning, a man ought to attackthe dagger, the woman should await it with a firm foot. Where would bethe triumph of virtue unless it meets and defeats vice? Now, if mydaughter is so weak as to feel like running away---- "

  "My sister is not weak, but she has fallen victim to a plot ofscoundrels who have cowardly schemed to stain unblemished honor. Iaccuse nobody. The crime was conceived in the dark; let it die in thedark, for I understand in my own way the honor of my house."

  "But how do you know?" asked the baron, his eyes glowing with joy at thehope of securing a fresh hold on the plunder. "In this case, Philip, theglory and honor of our house have not vanished; we triumph."

  "Ugh! you are really the very thing I feared," said the captain withsupreme disgust; "you have betrayed yourself--lacking presence of mindbefore your judge as righteousness before your son."

  "I have no luck with my children," said the baron; "a fool and a brute."

  "I have yet to say two things to you. The King gave you a collar ofpearls and diamonds---- "

  "To your sister."

  "To you. But words matter not. My sister does not wear such jewels.Return them or if you like not to offend his Majesty, keep them."

  He handed the casket to his father who opened it, and threw it on thechiffonier.

  "We are not rich since you have pledged or sold the property of ourmother--for which I am not blaming you, but so we must choose. If youkeep this lodging, we will go to Taverney."

  "Nay, I prefer Taverney," said the baron, fumbling with his lace ruffleswhile his lips quivered without Philip appearing to notice theagitation.

  "Then we take this house."

  "I will get out at once," and the baron thought, "down at Taverney Iwill be a little king with three thousand a-year."

  He picked up the case of jewels and walked to the door, saying with anatrocious smile:

  "Philip, I authorise you to dedicate your first philosophical work tome. As for Andrea's first work, advise her to call it Louis, or Louise,as the case may be. It is a lucky name."

  He went forth, chuckling.

  With bloodshot eye, and a brow of fire, Philip clutched his swordhilt,saying:

  "God grant me patience and oblivion."