Part 33 (1/2)
Two days after his arrival he rode off to Sonnay-le-Loir. It was the right thing for an officer on leave to pay a visit of ceremony to the General in command of the division, as well as to the Prefect of the department, and this necessity came in very well at the moment.
Madame de Sainfoy spoke confidently, but she was in reality not quite easy in her mind. She had seen and heard nothing of General Ratoneau since the day when Urbain put his short letter into her hand. Sometimes, impatient and anxious, worried by Helene's pale face and the fear of some soft-hearted weakness on Herve's part, she found it difficult to bear day after day of suspense and silence. Suppose the affair were going ill, and not well! Suppose that, after all, the Prefect had refused to gratify the General, and that no imperial command was coming to break down Herve's resistance, strong enough in that quarter! Georges promised her, as he rode away, that the matter should be cleared up to her satisfaction.
He found the town of Sonnay-le-Loir, and General Ratoneau himself, in a state of considerable agitation. The excellent Prefect was very ill. He was never a strong man physically, and the nervous irritation caused by such a colleague as Ratoneau might have been partly the cause of his present collapse. Sorely against his will he had listened to Ratoneau's fresh argument, and had consented to stop a whole string of political arrests by forwarding the marriage the General had set his heart upon.
His own personal danger, if he had defied the General, would have been by no means small. Simon was right; Ratoneau could have represented his mild measures in such a light as to ruin him, along with those Angevin gentlemen whom he was trying by gentle means to reconcile with the Empire. At that precise moment he could not even punish the man he suspected of betraying him. Ratoneau had protected his tool so far as to leave him nameless; but in any case, from the imperial point of view, a man who denounced Chouans was doing his duty. As to the fact of sending up Mademoiselle de Sainfoy's name to the Emperor and suggesting for her the very husband whom her father had refused to accept--the chief sin, in the eyes of that day, was the unfriendly action towards her father.
The whole system was odious; it appeared more or less so, according to the degree of refinement in the officials who had to work it; yet it came from the Emperor, and could not be entirely set aside; also every marriage, in one way or another, was an arranged thing; it must suit family politics, if not the interests of the Empire. Nothing strange from the outside--and all the world would look at it so--in the marriage of the Comte de Sainfoy's daughter with the local General of division.
The lady's unwillingness was a mere detail, of which the laws of society would take no cognizance. The sentimental view which called such a marriage sacrilege was absurd, after all, and the Prefect knew it.
Indeed, after the first, the thought of Helene's face did not trouble him so much as that of the _coup de patte_ in store for her father, the stealthy blow to come from himself, the old, the trusted fellow-countryman.
But the injury to Herve de Sainfoy weighed lightly, after all, when balanced with the arrest and ruin of Joseph de la Mariniere and possibly his young nephew, as well as of Monsieur des Barres, Monsieur de Bourmont, the Messieurs d'Ombre, and other men more or less suspected of conspiring against the Empire. Even if this, perhaps deserved, had been all! but the Prefect knew very well that an enemy such as Ratoneau would not be satisfied without his own degradation.
He had yet one resource, delay. There was the chance that Herve de Sainfoy might arrange some other marriage for his daughter; and the Prefect went so far as to consider the possibility of sending him a word of warning, but then thought it too dangerous, not quite trusting Herve's discretion, and gave up the idea. From day to day he put off sending the necessary papers to Paris. From day to day, after the eventful interview, he managed to avoid any private conversation with Ratoneau. This was possible, as the General was occupied in reviewing the troops in the neighbourhood, and was absent from Sonnay for several days. Then a new ally stepped in on Helene's side, and touched the Prefect gently, but effectively. When General Ratoneau returned to Sonnay, the very day before Georges de Sainfoy's visit, he was met by the news that a slight stroke of paralysis had deprived Monsieur de Mauves of his speech, and of the use of his right hand. Going at once to the Prefecture, roughly demanding an interview with the Prefect, he encountered a will stronger than his own in that of the Sonnay doctor, who absolutely refused to let any one into the sickroom.
”But he must have written to Paris--he must--he promised me that he would,” Ratoneau a.s.sured Georges de Sainfoy, who stood before him frowning doubtfully. ”He dared not disappoint me. I have him under my thumb, I tell you--like that--” he crushed a fly on the table.
”I see--but why all this delay?” said the young man.
Ratoneau drummed with his fist and whistled. ”Delay, yes--” he said. ”I meant Monsieur le Prefet to give an account of himself yesterday--I suppose I am as impatient as you are--” he grinned. ”After all, monsieur, this official business takes time. It is only a fortnight since I brought the good man to his marrow-bones. Ah, I wish you had seen him! the grimaces he made! When I went first he defied me, as bold as you please. Your father was his friend, he would do nothing to annoy your father. Then, when I went back with a little more information, he began to see all his beloved Chouans in prison, as well as himself. I had him then. He began to see, perhaps, that a man in my position was not such an impossible husband for a young girl of good family. Ha, ha!”
”A fortnight seems to me quite long enough to write to Paris and get an answer,” said Georges.
He was a little sorry for himself. He wished he had seen Ratoneau for the first time on horseback, a smart, correct officer, reviewing his troops. Then it would have been easy enough to accept him as a brother-in-law. But this red-faced, slovenly creature in careless undress, made even more repulsive by his uncanny likeness to Napoleon--vulgar in manners, bragging in talk! De Sainfoy had met strange varieties of men among his brother officers, but never anything quite so forbidding as this. He did not give his sister a thought of pity; it was not in him; but he had a moment of sympathy with his father, of surprise at his mother. However, he was not the man to be conquered by prejudice. If the affair was disagreeable, all the more reason to push it through quickly, to reach any advantages it might bring. His smooth young brow had a new line across it; that was all.
”You talk of the Prefect's 'beloved Chouans,' Monsieur le General,” he said. ”It seems to me that in any case he is not fit for his position.
It sounds like treason, what you say.”
”Ah! that is another question,” said Ratoneau. ”That need not concern us just now, you and me. He must do what we want, first of all; later on we shall see. Remember, Monsieur le Vicomte, any active measures against the Chouans would touch your family--your connections, at least. Very complicated, the state of society in this province. I wish for nothing better than to sweep out all these tiresome people, but it behoves me to move gently.”
Georges could not help smiling. ”That must be against your principles and your inclinations, Monsieur le General.”
”It is against my interests,” Ratoneau said, drily enough.
”Inclinations--well, yes. I should be sorry to annoy Monsieur Urbain de la Mariniere, who is on my side in these affairs. He is a sensible man.
His brother's right place is in a state prison. As to that son of his--well, he wants a sharp lesson, and one of these days he will have it. He is an impudent young scoundrel, that little La Mariniere.”
Ratoneau lifted his dark eyes and looked straight at Georges, who flushed under his gaze.
”But perhaps you think better of your cousin?” the General said.
”No--I dislike him. He is a presumptuous fellow.”
”Presumptuous in what way?”
Georges shrugged his shoulders. There were limits to the complaisance he found due to this future relation; the family secrets, the family confidences, though they might indirectly concern him, should at least be kept from him for the present. Georges knew all his sister's story, as far as her mother knew it. The story was safe, though out of no kindness to Helene.
”He thinks too much of himself,” said Georges, and laughed rather awkwardly. ”He orders his betters about as if he were the chief landowner of the country, instead of a farmer's son. This happened to me the other night, Monsieur le General.”