Part 29 (1/2)
”And what is his present occupation?”
”As usual, madam, superintending his kitchen and shop.”
”Is he alone in his business?”
”Oh, no! madam; he is a.s.sisted by his son, a fine dark handsome young man.”
”His son then lives with him?”
”Yes, madam, and he is married.”
”Married!-but it is not of this young man I wish to speak, but of his sister, of Genevieve; tell me of her.”
”I only learned, madam, that she had married a tailor, named Guerard-who, after having been very unsuccessful in business, died suddenly, leaving her wholly dest.i.tute with two young children.”
I immediately wrote the following note to my early friend:-
”The comtesse du Barry having heard of the misfortunes of madame Guerard, and knowing how much she is deserving of a better fate, is desirous of being useful to her. She therefore requests madame Guerard will call next Monday, at two o'clock, on her at her hotel, rue de la p.u.s.s.ienne.”
Poor Genevieve nearly fainted when she received this note, which was conveyed to her by a footman wearing my livery. She could not imagine to whom she was indebted for procuring her such exalted patronage, and she and her family spent the intervening hours before her appointed interview in a thousand conjectures on the subject. On Monday, punctually at two o'clock, she was at the hotel dressed in her best, her lovely countenance setting off the humble style of even her holiday garb. She knew me the instant she saw me; and, in the frank simplicity of her own heart imagining she could judge of mine, she ran to me, and threw herself into my arms, exclaiming,
”Oh, my dear Jeannette, what pleasure does it afford me to meet you again. Oh! I see how it is; you are the friend of the comtesse du Barry, and it is to you I shall owe my future good fortune, as I do this present mark of her favor.”
”No, my good Genevieve,” cried I, weeping for joy, ”she who now embraces you is the comtesse du Barry.”
After we had a little recovered ourselves, I took my friend by the hand, and led her to a sofa, where we seated ourselves side by side. Returning to the scenes of our early youth, I related to Genevieve all that had occurred since-my adventures, faults, and favour. When I had concluded my recital, Genevieve commenced hers, but it was soon told. There is little to relate in the life of a woman who has pa.s.sed her days in the virtuous discharge of her duties.
Our mutual confidences being over, and having again exchanged a most affectionate embrace, I put into the hands of my companion a portfolio, containing 30,000 livres in bank bills. I promised her likewise to obtain for her some lucrative situation. ”Do more than this for me!” cried Genevieve. ”Since you will still grant me your friends.h.i.+p, secure for me the happiness of occasionally meeting you. I can with truth declare, that of all your proofs of kindness and regard, that which I prefer is the pleasure of seeing you.”
This ingenuous request touched my heart, and I replied to it by fondly caressing the warm-hearted Genevieve, and a.s.suring her that my purse and my house should be ever open to her. We then resumed our interesting reminiscences, and Genevieve was the first to speak of her brother. At the name of Nicolas I felt the blood mount to my very forehead, and an indefinable sensation pa.s.sed over me at the mention of him who had possessed my virgin love. I strove, however, to conceal from my friend the powerful emotion which agitated me, and I replied, with apparent tranquillity, that I should be happy to a.s.sist her brother with the best of my credit and influence; and I kept my word by obtaining for him, at the solicitation, of his sister, some lucrative situation, the exact nature of which I do not now recollect, where they resided together in ease and comfort. I had only to recommend them to the notice of M. de Boulogne, who felt himself much flattered at being selected by me to make the fortunes of my two friends.
From this time Genevieve visited me as frequently as she could, and her society delighted me; whilst, in her conversation I found a frankness and sincerity which I had vainly sought for at court. She had loved me when a simple milliner, and she cherished the same fond regard for me in my improved situation. Her friends.h.i.+p has not forsaken me in my reverses; and I feel quite a.s.sured that death only will dissolve the tender friends.h.i.+p which still subsists between us. As for her brother, he spared me much shame and confusion by never seeking my presence; a meeting with him would indeed have overwhelmed me with painful recollections.
And now, my friend, I am about to relate to you an adventure, the bare mention of which covers my cheek with guilty blushes; fain would I conceal it from you, but my promise is given to lay my whole heart before you, and it shall be done, cost what it may.
I know not why it should ever have been permitted you gentlemen to frame laws, which, while they permit you, in the gratification of your pa.s.sions, to descend ever so low in the scale of society without any disgrace attaching itself to you from the obscure condition of the object of your search, to us females it is prohibited, under penalty of incurring the utmost degradation, to gratify the inclination of our hearts when awakened by one of more humble rank than our own. A great lord may love a kitchen maid, a n.o.ble duke, like M. de Villeroi, may indulge his fancy for a waiting-woman, and yet lose no portion of his dignity, or of the esteem in which the world holds him; but, on the other hand, woe to the high-born dame who should receive the homage of an obscure citizen, or the n.o.ble countess who should lend a favourable ear to the sighs of her valet de chambre; the public voice would loud and angrily inveigh against so flagrant a breach of decorum. And why should this be? But, my friend, do you not see in my seeking to defend so weak a cause sufficient intimation that such a justification involves a consciousness of requiring it? Alas! I plead guilty, and will no longer delay the painful confession I have to make.
Do you remember a singularly handsome young man, who, during my abode with madame Lagarde, fascinated me till my very senses seemed bewildered by my pa.s.sion. You know how he betrayed me, and how, through him, I was expelled the house, as well as the termination of this foolish adventure. You are now to pa.s.s over seven or eight years, and take your place with me in the drawing-room, in which I stood when I rang to summon a servant to convey a letter to the duc de Villeroi. You may remember what I told you in the last chapter of the person who entered, of his agitation and his blushes, and of his fixing his eyes with deep meaning upon me till he quitted the room-this servant was Noel!
Had I listened to the dictates of prudence, I should, without loss of time, have obtained against him a lettre de cachet, which would have freed me from all chance of discovery through his means; but I could not listen to such cool-blooded, though cautious, suggestions. One idea only took possession of my mind-the absurd desire to know what had become of Noel since we separated, and by what accident I now found him wearing my livery in the castle. With this intent I availed myself of the first moment I was secure from interruption, to summon him to my presence. He threw himself at my feet, imploring of me to pardon his audacity. ”Alas, madam!” said he, ”I am more unfortunate than guilty. I saw you walking some time since, and I could obtain no rest or peace till I was fortunate enough to obtain admission to your establishment. Punish me for my temerity if you will; expel me from the castle, have me confined in a prison, I deserve it all; but, voluntarily, I cannot leave this house; and if you will only permit my stay, I solemnly vow you shall see nothing in my conduct but the zeal of an attached and respectful servant.”
I was weak enough to pardon Noel and shortly after to raise him to the rank of valet de chambre, which brought him infinitely too much about me.
Yes, my friend, the woman is, after all attempts to excuse it, blamable for bestowing her affection on one below herself in the scale of society. Nature herself appears to have planted in our bosoms a kind of instinct, which warns us from it, and a prejudice against all those who so degrade themselves. It is different with men; they can confer rank and elevation on the beloved object. A woman should always have reason to look up to and feel proud of the man to whom she consigns her heart; this species of vanity is mixed with the n.o.blest love, and the woman who can overlook it, acts from pa.s.sion of the lowest, basest kind. How easy is it to reason! Alas! Why have I not always acted as well as I speak.
I was thus again a second time enthralled by Noel, and much more so, too, than I will now tell you. My faithful Henriette, whose devoted attachment for me kept her ever watchful of my safety and reputation, was thunderstruck at perceiving what I vainly strove to conceal from her; and, as she has since told me, was long in deciding whether to speak to me of the affair, when an unexpected incident arose, which determined her, at every risk of my displeasure, to use her endeavors to put an end to so disgraceful a connexion, which must infallibly have ended in my disgrace.
One night, or rather midnight, all was at rest in the castle, and I was sleeping peacefully in the arms of Noel, when all at once I was awakened by the sudden opening of an outer door, which announced to me the approach of the king, who had merely one more door to open ere he would be in my apartment. Noel, terrified, leaped quickly out of bed, and ran to seek refuge in a small chamber adjoining where Henriette slept. Happily she was yet awake; and, by the light of a night-lamp or veilleuse recognized Noel, who, with clasped hands, conjured her to take pity upon him. Henriette saw the danger, and putting out her hand, seized him, and drawing him rapidly towards her, made him lie down beside her. Noel, struck with her goodness, was preparing to offer her the same marks of his grat.i.tude he had shown me of his respect; but repulsing him, she said in a low voice, ”Wretch, think not it is on your account I thus expose my reputation; 'tis to save that of my beloved mistress; either conduct yourself with silent respect or you are lost.” At this threat Noel 's courage melted away and he lay still as a frightened child. ”Listen,” said Henriette, ”if you do not quit this place to-morrow at break of day, without seeking to see madame again, I will denounce you to the king, who will inflict upon you the most dreadful punishment.”