Part 9 (1/2)
So thinking, he travelled to Paris, leaving his uniform behind him, and dressed just as an ordinary man about town, quietly, but with exquisite care and neatness.
As soon as he had settled himself in a modest hotel in one of the streets of the Avenue de l'Ope, he wrote a discreetly-worded note to one of the secretaries of the Ministry of War, a former schoolfellow of his, with whom he had had previous communications of a confidential sort, asking him to arrange a private interview for him with the Minister at the earliest possible date, and, if possible, to dine with him the next evening. The next morning he called to pay his respects to Madame de Bourbon and the marquise at the hotel they had taken in the Avenue Neuilly.
He met the marquise alone in the salon. She received him quietly and almost coldly--but this he had expected.
”So you have finally decided,” she said. ”I thought from your letter that you would do so. How very different you look _en civile_! Really, although we naturally hate the sight of them, still, it must be admitted that those German uniforms do make a good-looking man look his best.”
”Yes,” replied Victor, choking down his chagrin as best he might; ”to a certain extent it is true, after all, that the feathers make the bird, and so, of course, the clothes make the man. Still, I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to tolerate me for the future without my German plumage. As you say, I have made my decision. I have broken with Germany for ever. Henceforth, I am a son of France--and, Adelaide, I have come to ask a daughter of France to help me to serve her.”
”Of France!” she echoed, drawing herself up, and looking at him with a half-angry glint in her eyes, ”of what France? Of this nation of sn.o.bs and shopkeepers, ruled by a combination of stockbrokers, heavy-witted bourgeoisie and political adventurers? or the old France--my France--the France of my ancestors, as it was in the days when the great Louis said: 'L'etat c'est moi'? The one is not worth saving; the other might be worth restoring.”
”But this France of the bourgeoisie must first be saved, so that we may make out of it the foundation for the throne of the great Louis.
If we succeed, Adelaide, as it is still possible that we may do, we shall be strong enough to abolish the salic law and to enthrone you as Empress of the French.”
”Of France, if you please! My ancestors were Kings of France. Even the Corsican dared only style himself Emperor of the French. You seem to forget that I am a daughter of the Bourbons, a scion of the older line, and that therefore France is my personal heritage. But come,”
she went on, with a swift change of tone and manner, ”it will be time enough to talk about that when I am nearer to my inheritance than I am now. You said that you wanted my help--how? What can I do now, left alone as I am?”
”Not quite alone, Adelaide,” he said, half reproachfully. ”Have I not given up everything, even, as some would say, sacrificed honour itself, to help you to win back that which is your own by every right?
And you can help me as no one else can. I have a friend in the Ministry of War--Gaston Leraulx, one of the secretaries. We were school-fellows and college friends. He is to dine with me to-night, and he will arrange an interview with the Minister of War. I shall ask you to come with me to that interview.”
”What do you say, Victor? You wish me, a princess of the House of Bourbons to enter the bureau of one of these ministers--these politicians who are ruling in the place of the old n.o.blesse--men whom we might perhaps have employed as lacqueys?”
”That is true,” he replied; ”but remember, Adelaide, that time brings its differences. My ancestors were n.o.bles when yours were kings. If the old order of things is to be restored we must use these people as means to an end. I ask you to come with me to the Minister of War, so that you may help me to convince him, from your own knowledge, of the terrible mistake that he made when he refused to entertain the project that my father placed before him.
”You can tell him that strange story of how my father in his despair committed his body and his secret to the sea; how the sea gave it up into the hands of our worst enemies--the enemies of yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow--England and America; and how, even now, they are spending their millions upon that upon which France would not even risk a few paltry thousands.
”When I place my papers before him he will see that they are identical with my father's, and I shall give him others which will make it impossible for him to doubt my faith; and you, you will be there to help me with your knowledge, with the prestige of your name, and with your beauty. The General may be all that you think him, but do not forget that he is a Frenchman, and that all Frenchmen who are not quite mad respect and admire at least two things----”
”And those are--what?” she said, taking a couple of steps towards him, and speaking in a low, earnest tone. ”Am I to understand you to mean that this man--I know that he is one of the most able men that France can boast of--might perhaps be made an instrument of?”
”I mean,” said Victor, taking her hand unresistingly, ”that General Ducros is himself an aristocrat, a man whose forefathers served yours well; that he is a Frenchman whose spirit will recognise yours as being of similar lineage, whose eyes will not be blind, and whose ears will not be deaf. Surely, Adelaide, you see by this time what I mean: you see how, with you, I may succeed in everything, and, without you, I may fail. And, remember, if I fail there is an end of everything.
This is our last hope. If it is not realised, these accursed English and Americans will be masters of the situation, masters of the world, indeed. Surely, Adelaide, for the sake of all that is past and all that may be to come you will not say no?”
”No, Victor; I will not,” she replied, still allowing her hand to rest in his, and yet thinking the while of that other man, whose face was ever present to her eyes, and whose voice was ever echoing in her ears. ”I will visit this Minister of yours with you. His name is good, and perhaps he may not be unworthy of it. At any rate, he is not disgraced by one of those new t.i.tles of the First or Second Empire. If I can help you I will; trust me for that. When it is arranged send me a telegram and our carriage is at your disposal. Ah, who is this?”
At this moment the door opened, and the lacquey announced:
”Monsieur le Comte de Valdemar; Ma'm'selle la Comtesse de Valdemar.”
Victor Fargeau saw at a glance that the count and Sophie were dressed in half-mourning, and instantly divined that their visit was one of condolence. This, of course, gave him a most excellent excuse to make his adieux.
There was just a glimmer of taunting mockery in Sophie's brilliant eyes as she recognised the das.h.i.+ng young cavalry officer in the sober garb of civil life, but it pa.s.sed like a flash, and as they shook hands she said:
”A most unexpected meeting, captain!” And then, with a look of frank challenge, ”No doubt it is most important business that has brought you to Paris _en civile_.”
”It is not without importance, countess, at least to my own poor and presently insignificant self. Whether,” he went on, with a swift involuntary glance at Adelaide, who was receiving the condolences of the count, ”it will ever be of importance to others is one of the secrets of fate; and, if so, you, who are no doubt justly credited with knowing half the secrets of Europe, will probably be one of the first to discover the fact.”
”I wonder whether that is intended for a compliment or the reverse,”
said Sophie, with a look of challenge coming back into her eyes. ”You see, captain, there are two sorts of people who are supposed to know everything--diplomatists and spies.”