The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 1 (of 3)

by Lewis Wingfield

  CHAPTER V.

  THE HALF-BROTHERS.

  Never was there a greater bit of luck for the Lorge hermits than theepigram that was too pungent, and its consequences. With the arrivalof the fugitives there was inaugurated a new _regime_. Cobwebs seemedto vanish at a stroke. The dismal old chateau stirred and rubbed itseyes, for, as by magic, the spirit of ennui who had his dwelling therewas routed and put to flight.

  The Abbe Pharamond was made of quicksilver. Such a mass of ubiquitousever-moving energy would have awakened the seven sleepers. Everyonefelt his influence; and no one had a word to say against him, exceptToinon and Jean Boulot. Even the objections of these, as might beexpected in low-born persons, were of the vaguest. The one found faultwith his effeminate manners and mincing ways, the other vowed that hewas so sweet as to be mawkish. Balanced one on either knee, theprodigies (with clean pinafores and polished visages) were taught towarble the amorous ditties of the south, an absurd performance whichfrequently brought over Madame de Vaux in the shanderydan, and causedher to explode with laughter. His presence acted like a magnet. Therewas always a stock of the neatest compliments on hand for Angelique;the most respectfully rapt attention for the baron's platitudes. Hewas constantly riding to Montbazon on his way to somewhere else, benton organizing a picnic or a hunt, and even discovered and dragged fromtheir retreats into the light a variety of country gentlemen whoseldom left their burrows. "If the dear man were a layman!" grievedthe baroness. "The very thing for Angelique." But since he was achurchman, she must do her best with the other.

  "Pooh! Stuff and nonsense!" objected the baron. "They were of goodfamily--could boast, indeed, of most superior blood--but were as pooras church mice, both."

  Whereupon his spouse remarked from out her nightcap folds that she diddislike a mole. Was not the marquis a good-natured gentleman, ifstupid, and was he not plainly devoted to his brothers--proud at leastof one? It could be seen with half an eye that the abbe's influencewas great, and would grow greater. Out of Gabrielle's wealth, after deBreze's death, he would, of course, provide for his brothers in afitting and lavish manner.

  Gabrielle fell at once, and without resistance, under the spell of theabbe. She had never known so charming and accomplished a person.Faugh! the tawdry butterflies of Versailles! The gaudy numskulls! Merecontemptible machines, that mopped and mowed to order. In Pharamondshe beheld for the first time a man whose masterful nature somehowcompelled obedience. Among other fascinating ways, he had a trick(aware of a trim and graceful figure) of tossing himself down in apicturesque attitude at Gabrielle's feet, burningly eager for advice;and on considering the interview afterwards, she was pleasantlysurprised to find how she had shone--how undoubtedly, yetunaccountably, sage had been her counsel. "He exerts a good influenceover me," she murmured. "Like flowers under the sun's first rays Iexpand. Till he arrived, I knew not how dense had been our darkness.Alas! if Clovis were a little like him how different had been myfate!"

  Even Clovis was the better for the abbe's advent. His brother wouldwalk straight into his sanctum and drag him from his books to joinsome party of pleasure; but, lest he should turn restive, would arguein his nimble fashion, as they rode along, upon abstruse points ofphilosophy. Though not fully believing in the tremendous powersclaimed by the prophet, he declared himself open to conviction withregard to Mesmer; and Gabrielle was amazed to perceive how animatedher husband could become in his efforts to convince the doubter. Whenhounded from the capital, Mesmer had travelled south before settlingat Spa, and the abbe had seen him perform his marvels. Hunted out ofParis by the Academy of Medicine, persecution had produced the usualresult--attacked, defended, abused, glorified, Fame shook all herbauble bells, and rescued his name from neglect. At Montpelier, hisfollowing was so great that he and his small staff could not supplythe necessary treatment. There was no denying that under his magneticpasses certain patients did recover. However much argument mightmeander, it always came back to that point. In what the mysterioushealing fluid consisted, was the difficult question. Did an invisiblecurrent actually flow from the manipulator to the patient, or was itbut the effect of ascendency of will--of the strong nature bearingdown the weak?

  During the discussions on the subject, the abbe would jokingly wavehis whip at the chevalier, whose sleek figure jogged behind. "There isa case in point," he laughed. "Phebus's will is completely subservientto mine, and he knows it. Tell them, chevalier, is there anything Icould not make you do?"

  Then the broad visage of Phebus would beam with respectful pride as hesurveyed his clever brother. "No, abbe," he would quietly rejoin. "Youare wiser and better than I, and I am content that you should thinkfor both."

  Then in his turn would Clovis laugh as he glanced at the attentiveGabrielle. "We must be careful, lest," he observed, slyly, "we forfeitour independence. While pretending to disbelieve, he is deceiving us,for he is himself gifted with magnetic powers of a high order. I vow Iam half influenced already, and must take precautions lest I become aslave."

  Those were pleasant rides under the yellowing foliage in the lateautumn of '89. Clovis was galvanised into a semblance of activity, andappeared under the process to have half realized how charming was hiswife. Instead of provokingly staring without seeing her, he observedhow fresh was her complexion, how silken and golden and heavy were theloose plaits of her unpowdered hair. To her astonishment, followingthe abbe's lead, he became almost attentive, guiding her horse overdifficult ground, even marking the fact when she was tired.

  And so it came about, as by touch of fairy wand, that Gabrielle, alonein the desert, had found a following. The husband whom she adored wasdisplaying a ghostly kindness, with which for the present she wascontent. If he only would appreciate the prodigies--but that, underbeneficent influence, would follow, doubtless. The newly-arrivedswains vied with each other in endeavouring to forestall her wishes.The abbe ordered everyone about for the general good and herparticular behoof, like some hovering farseeing deity; while the lesspretentious chevalier plodded at her heel like a wheezy spaniel, asactive as his redundancy permitted.

  In their way, good looking fellows both. The chevalier was short andvery fair, with pale blue eyes and a weak mouth, producing a somewhatwashed-out effect. His nose was aquiline and delicately moulded. Inmany respects he bore a curious resemblance to his majesty thereigning monarch. The abbe, his junior by several years, looked adecade younger at least. He was slim and wiry, built on a small scale,with well-turned limbs and white hands remarkable for their fragility.Indeed, in considering his appearance people always remembered thesoft, twining fingers which looked as weak as a woman's, and which, ina hand-shake, could give so firm a grip. His face was round and pale,his lips thin and tightly pressed together, his eyes steel-grey with astrongly accentuated pupil. There was something about his usualexpression that suggested a particularly high-bred white cat--duepossibly to a purring manner and an air of sensual complacency. Butthere were moments--not unknown to the chevalier--when the eyes couldgleam with tawny lightning, darken with thunder-clouds, while thesmall even teeth were ground in passion, and the pale face turnedlivid. Like all seemingly light and effeminate beings, who are reallyof wrought steel, the gay and frolicsome abbe could become a sweepingwhirlwind; but since he usually managed to have his way unchallenged,serious atmospheric disturbances were of rare occurrence. As the eyesof an angry cat seem to be illumined from behind, so on rare occasionsof excessive wrath those of the abbe assumed a malevolent glitter, inface of which the chevalier cowered, despite his breadth of beam. Hisplump uncertain hands grew moist, his words were few and husky; hewhimpered and breathed hard; and the privileged observer could havelittle doubt that there was absolutely nothing he could not be goadedto essay under pressure from Abbe Pharamond.

  On a certain mild evening in October, master and serf were riding homefrom Montbazon, and the latter unconsciously shrank and stopped hishorse, conscious of the glitter that he feared. Wistfully and humblyhe
looked up, anxious to ascertain wherein he had offended.

  "The de Vaux are a charming family," remarked the abbe, airily kissinghis fingertips. "I compliment you, dear brother."

  When the abbe chose to gibe, the chevalier sniffed somethingdisagreeable.

  "Ha, ha! How lugubrious a countenance for a favoured lover! As dolefulas a bee who's lost his sting! When do we propose to marry? Never keepa lady waiting!"

  "What do you mean?" stammered Phebus, mopping his brow.

  "Madame de Vaux expects you to propose for Angelique."

  "But I don't want to marry Angelique."

  "What! Not the delightful shoot from the family tree of which we hearso much? Like the Indian banyan its proportions darken the sky. Whynot--tell me?"

  "Because I do not wish to marry at all," replied Phebus.

  "And why--and why--and why?" laughed Pharamond, in elfish mood. "Nay,do not tell me. Cannot I read into your erring soul as through a sheetof dirty glass? Because you are hopelessly enamoured of your brother'shandsome wife!"

  Phebus started and turned scarlet.

  "Don't look so exasperatingly sheepish! you quivering mass of jelly,"sneered Pharamond.

  An explosion of laughter resounded through the wood and ceased, andthe glitter shone forth again.

  "Do you know that it is extremely wrong to nourish a flame for one'sbrother's wife?" he inquired dryly. "Most reprehensible in itself andnot unlikely to lead to complications. Will Clovis approve, thinkyou?"

  Perceiving that Phebus was too confused and upset by the sudden attackto answer, the abbe frisked on, urging forward both horses with hiswhip.

  "See!" he observed, addressing nature generally. "How lenient MotherChurch can be to the shortcomings of the weak! Do I blame this culpritfor adoring the lovely Gabrielle? Not a bit! If he did not his heartwould be of stone instead of pulp. Stout Phebus is consumed withhopeless adoration. But is it hopeless? Ah! There's the rub. Don'tbabble like an idiot, but confess. Have we openly given vent to ourboiling passion? Yes, or no?"

  The chevalier bent his head and sobbed out, "I'm a miserable wickedwretch!"

  "Of course you are," affably agreed the abbe. "Make a clean breast ofit to Mother Church, who will straightway absolve the sinner. Do weadore her to the ends of our fat fingers? Eh?"

  "How can I help adoring her?" replied harassed Phebus.

  "Certainly not--how could you?" echoed his tormentor. "Ho! ho! ho!ho!" The abbe's mocking laugh reverberated among the trees. "I've halfa mind to tell Clovis--shall I? How he'd enjoy the jest!" And atcontemplation of the maze of mischief that might result from such aproceeding, he laughed again, "Ho! ho!"

  "Does she return your love? Have you really made the trial?" heinquired suddenly, with a sneer upon his lips. "No? Then, my poorfellow, I am genuinely sorry for your plight. Presto! The Church hasrun away! Behold a doctor; hearken to words of wisdom. Your ailment'svery bad, but curable. This is a queer world, I'd have you know, inwhich there is one unpardonable crime, failure. We hunt down andexterminate the exposed bungler, who, if he bungles, and would yetsave his skin, must take precautions not to be found out. Now I foundyou out at once, you simple oaf, so you deserve to be delivered toClovis. I ought to sacrifice so paltry a specimen of intrigue, butthen--are you not, too, my brother?"

  The chevalier knitted his brows in a vain effort to comprehend whatunderlay the abbe's banter.

  "Oh! what a tender brother!" the latter continued; "for I will evenassist you in your quest. Yes, I, the virtuous Abbe Pharamond. Thedoctor prescribes a fervent wooing--a scaling of the ramparts--astorming of the citadel. You have gone too timidly to work. Betweenthis husband and wife there can be no bond of union. That much weknow. _Ergo_, the heart of the beauty is yet to win, since she isfancy free. You shall try your luck in earnest, and I will give youall my help--on one condition."

  "You will!" murmured Phebus, melted to tears by admiring gratitude,"How shall I repay such kindness?"

  "Thus. You try your hand and do your best, but if you fail you retirefor ever from the field. If she likes you, well and good. Win and wearher and be happy. If not, promise to worry her no more with annoyingimportunities."

  The suggested arrangement was so singular, that the chevalier,recovering himself a little, knew not what to think. What could hisastute brother be driving at? Why should he desire to throw thehitherto unstained wife into a lover's arms? Had he a spite againstthe marquis? No. Against Gabrielle? Hardly. Perhaps he was sorry, asPhebus had been, to observe Clovis's neglect, and anxious to seeAriadne consoled? How kind of the abbe to select him, the chevalier,as the proposed comforter! A new vista of possibilities unrolleditself. Unaided he would have gone on sympathetically sighing, butwith the abbe's encouragement and active assistance, wonders might beaccomplished.

  The latter was beaming on him now with bonhomie. Clearly he wished,fraternally, to see sister-in-law and brother happy, and imbued withthe spirit of the times in which they lived, was doing his best tomake them so. Warmly the chevalier blurted out his thanks. His brotherwas good and kind, as he always meant to be, though now and then sopuzzling and strange. He would follow his instructions dutifully tothe letter, and Gabrielle won, would be till death her slave.

  "That is well," assented the abbe with a friendly clap on theshoulder. "You have beaten about the bush too long, instead of makingstraight for the goal. Women have sharp instincts, and since theyrequire wooing, despise too bashful swains. This very night the coastshall be kept clear for you. The balmy autumn breeze is to love vowsthe softest of accompaniments. I will retain Clovis in his study witharguments about the prophet he reveres."

  The two jogged on in amicable silence, both equally satisfied, to allappearances, with the result of the conference, until the peakedturrets of Lorge frowned black against a primrose sunset. Then, beforeentering the courtyard, the abbe turned and whispered sternly, "Acompact, mind, which you will break at your peril. Win or withdraw. Donot attempt to deceive me, for I never forgive deceit."