Part 23 (1/2)
”By reputation merely,” replied the Marquis, setting a chair for his fair visitor, ”And as the uncle of Donna Sovrani.”
”Oh, reputation is nothing,” laughed the lady, known as the Princesse D'Agramont, an independent beauty of great wealth and brilliant attainments, ”Your butler can give you a reputation, or take it away from you! But the Cardinal's reputation is truly singular. It is goodness, merely! He is so good that he has become actually famous for it! Now I once thought that to become famous for goodness must surely imply that the person so celebrated had a very hypocritical nature,--the worst of natures indeed;--that of pretending to be what he was not,--but I was mistaken. Cardinal Bonpre IS good. Absolutely sincere and n.o.ble--therefore a living marvel in this age!”
”You are pleased to be severe, Princesse,” said the Marquis, ”Is sincerity so difficult to find?”
”The most difficult of virtues!” answered the Princesse, lightly tapping out a little tune with the jewelled handle of her riding whip on the arm of her chair, ”That is why I like horses and dogs so much--they are always honest. And for that reason I am now inclined to like Abbe Vergniaud whom I never liked before. He has turned honest!
To-day indeed he has been as straightforward as if he were not a man at all!--and I admire him for it. He and his son will be my guests at the Chateau D'Agramont.”
”What a very strange woman you are!” said Fontenelle, with a certain languid admiration beginning to glimmer in his eyes, ”You always do things that n.o.body else would dare do--and yet . . . no lovers!”
She turned herself swiftly round and surveyed him with a bright scorn that swept him as with a lightning flash from head to heel.
”Lovers! Who would be bored by them! Such delightful company! So unselfish in their demands--so tender and careful of a woman's feelings! Pouf! Cher ami!--you forget! I was the wife of the late Prince D'Agramont!”
”That explains a great many of your moods certainly,” said the Marquis smiling.
”Does it not? Le beau Louis!--romantic Louis!--poet Louis!--musician Louis!--Louis, who talked pretty philosophies by the hour,--Louis who looked so beautiful by moonlight,--who seemed fastidious and refined to a degree that was almost ethereal!--Louis who swore, with pa.s.sion flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes, that I was the centre of the universe to him, and that no other woman had ever occupied, would ever occupy, or SHOULD ever occupy his thoughts!--yes, he was an ideal lover and husband indeed!” said the Princesse smiling coldly, ”I gave him all my life and love, till one day, when I found I was sharing his caresses with my plumpest dairymaid, who called him ”HER Louis”! Then I thought it was time to put an end to romance. TIENS!” and she gave a little shrug and sigh, ”It is sad to think he died of over-eating.”
The Marquis laughed.
”You are incorrigible, belle Loyse!” he said, ”You should write these things, not speak them.”
”Really! And do I not write them? Yes, you know I do, and that you envy me my skill. The Figaro is indebted to me for many admirable essays. At the same time I do not give you permission to call me Loyse.”
”Forgive me!” and the Marquis folded his hands with an air of mock penitence.
”Perhaps I will, presently,” and she laughed, ”But meanwhile I want you to do something for me.”
”Toujours a votre service, madame!” and Fontenelle bowed profoundly.
”How theatrical you look! You are alarmingly like Miraudin;--and one MUST draw the line at Miraudin! This is a day of truth according to the Abbe Vergniaud; how dare you say you are at my service when you do not mean it?”
”Princesse, I protest . . .”
”Oh, protest as much as you like,--on the way to Rome!”
The Marquis started.
”To Rome?”
”Yes, to Rome. I am going, and I want someone to look after me. Will you come? All Paris will say we have eloped together.” She laughed merrily.
The Marquis stood perplexed and silent.
”Well, what is it?” went on the Princesse gaily, ”Is there some faint sense of impropriety stealing over you? Not possible! Dear me, your very muscles are growing rigid! You will not go?”
”Madame, if you will permit me to be frank with you,--I would rather not!”
”A la bonheur!--then I have you!” And the Princesse rose, a dazzling smile irradiating her features, ”You have thrown open your heart! You have begun to reform! You love Sylvie Hermenstein--yes!--you positively LOVE her!”