Part 17 (1/2)
”We will speak of this again to-morrow.”
”As you like,” replied the lover, with somewhat affected indifference.
”If you wish to play the part of Iago with me, I warn you I am not disposed to jealousy.”
”To-morrow, I tell you, I shall enlighten myself as to this affair; whatever the result of my inquiries may be, I will tell you the truth.
After all, it was nothing but woman's gossip.”
”Very well, take your time. But I have another favor to ask of you.
Tomorrow I shall try to persuade the ladies to take a walk in the park.
Mademoiselle de Corandeuil will probably not go; you must do me the favor of sticking to Bergenheim and the little sister, and gradually to walk on ahead of us, in such a way as to give me an opportunity of speaking with this cruel creature alone for a few moments; for she has given me to understand that I shall not succeed in speaking with her alone under any circ.u.mstances, and it is absolutely necessary that I should do so.”
”There will be one difficulty in the way, though--they expect about twenty persons at dinner, and all her time will probably be taken up with her duties as hostess.”
”That is true,” exclaimed Gerfaut, jumping up so suddenly that he upset his chair.
”You still forget that Mademoiselle de Corandeuil's room is beneath us.”
”The devil is playing her hand!” exclaimed the lover, as he paced the room in long strides. ”I wish that during the night he would wring the neck of all these visitors. Now; then, she has her innings. Today and tomorrow this little despot's battle of Ligny will be fought and won; but the day after to-morrow, look out for her Waterloo!”
”Good-night, my Lord Wellington,” said Marillac, as he arose and took up his candlestick.
”Good-night, Iago! Ah! you think you have annoyed me with your mysterious words and melodramatic reticence?”
”To-morrow! to-morrow!” replied the artist as he left the room.
”Ce secret-la Se trahira.”
CHAPTER XI. A QUARREL
The next morning, before most of the inhabitants of the chateau had thought of leaving their beds, or at least their rooms, a man, on horseback, and alone, took his departure through a door opening from the stable-yard into the park. He wore a long travelling redingote trimmed with braid and fur, rather premature clothing for the season, but which the sharp cold air that was blowing at this moment made appear very comfortable. He galloped away, and continued this pace for about three-quarters of a mile, in spite of the unevenness of the road, which followed a nearly straight line over hilly ground. It would have been difficult to decide which to admire more, the horse's limbs or the rider's lungs; for the latter, during this rapid ride, had sung without taking breath, so to speak, the whole overture to Wilhelm Tell. We must admit that the voice in which he sang the andante of the Swiss mountaineer's chorus resembled a reed pipe more than a hautboy; but, to make amends when he reached the presto, his voice, a rather good ba.s.s, struck the horse's ears with such force that the latter redoubled his vigor as if this melody had produced upon him the effect of a trumpet sounding the charge on the day of battle.
The traveller, whom we have probably recognized by his musical feat, concluded his concert by stopping at the entrance to some woods which extended from the top of the rocks to the river, breaking, here and there, the uniformity of the fields. After gazing about him for some time, he left the road and, entering the woods on the right, stopped at the foot of a large tree. Near this tree was a very small brook, which took its source not far away and descended with a sweet murmur to the river, making a narrow bed in the clayey ground which it watered. Such was the modesty of its course that a little brighter green and fresher gra.s.s a few feet away from it were the only indications of its presence.
Nothing was wanting to make this an idyllic place for a rendezvous, neither the protecting shade, the warbling of birds in the trees, the picturesque landscape surrounding it, nor the soft gra.s.s.
After dismounting from his steed and tying him to the branches of an oak, thus conforming to the time-honored custom of lovers, the cavalier struck his foot upon the ground three or four times to start the circulation in his legs, and then drew from his pocket a very pretty Breguet watch.
”Ten minutes past eight,” said he; ”I am late and yet I am early. It looks as if the clocks at La Fauconnerie were not very well regulated.”
He walked up and down with a quick step whistling with a vengeance:
”Quand je quittai la Normandie J'attends--j'attends--”
a refrain which the occasion brought to his mind. When this pastime was exhausted he had recourse to another, the nature of which proved that if the expected beauty had not punctuality for a virtue, she was not one of those little exacting creatures always ready to faint or whose delicate nerves make them intolerant of their lovers' imperfections. Plunging his hand into one of the pockets in his redingote, the waiting cavalier drew out a sealskin case filled with Havana cigars, and, lighting one, began to smoke, while continuing his promenade.
But at the end of a few moments this palliative, like the first, had exhausted its effect.
”Twenty-five minutes past eight!” exclaimed Marillac, as he looked at his watch a second time; ”I should like to know what this little miniature rose takes me for? It was hardly worth the trouble of over-straining this poor horse, who looks as wet as if he had come out of the river. It is enough to give him inflammation of the lungs. If Bergenheim were to see him sweating and panting like this in this bleak wind, he would give me a sound blowing-up. Upon my word, it is becoming comical! There are no more young girls! I shall see her appear presently as spruce and conceited as if she had been playing the finest trick in the world. It will do for once; but if we sojourn in these quarters some time yet, she must be educated and taught to say, 'If you please' and 'Thanks.' Ah! ha! she has no idea what sort of man she is dealing with!