Part 11 (1/2)
BOOK 2.
CHAPTER VII. THE BLUE BAND
Love, like any other human malady, should be treated according to the age and temperament of the sufferer. Madame de Nailles, who was a very keen observer, especially where her own interests were concerned, lent herself with the best possible grace to everything that might amuse and distract Jacqueline, of whom she had by this time grown afraid. Not that she now dreaded her as a rival. The att.i.tude of coldness and reserve that the young girl had adopted in her intercourse with Marien, her stepmother could see, was no evidence of coquetry. She showed, in her behavior to the friend of the family, a freedom from embarra.s.sment which was new to her, and a frigidity which could not possibly have been a.s.sumed so persistently. No! what struck Madame de Nailles was the suddenness of this transformation. Jacqueline evidently took no further interest in Marien; she had apparently no longer any affection for herself--she, who had been once her dear little mamma, whom she had loved so tenderly, now felt herself to be considered only as a stepmother. Fraulein Schult, too, received no more confidences. What did it all mean?
Had Jacqueline, through any means, discovered a secret, which, in her hands, might be turned into a most dangerous weapon? She had a way of saying before the guilty pair: ”Poor papa!” with an air of pity, as she kissed him, which made Madame de Nailles's flesh creep, and sometimes she would amuse herself by making ambiguous remarks which shot arrows of suspicion into a heart already afraid. ”I feel sure,” thought the Baroness, ”that she has found out everything. But, no! it seems impossible. How can I discover what she knows?”
Jacqueline's revenge consisted in leaving her stepmother in doubt. She more than suspected, not without cause, that Fraulein Schult was false to her, and had the wit to baffle all the clever questions of her 'promeneuse'.
”My wors.h.i.+p of a man of genius--a great artist? Oh! that has all come to an end since I have found out that his devotion belongs to an elderly lady with a fair complexion and light hair. I am only sorry for him.”
Jacqueline had great hopes that these cruel words would be reported--as they were--to her stepmother, and, of course, they did not mitigate the Baroness's uneasiness. Madame de Nailles revenged herself for this insult by dismissing the innocent echo of the impertinence--of course, under some plausible pretext. She felt it necessary also to be very cautious how she treated the enemy whom she was forced to shelter under her own roof. Her policy--a policy imposed on her by force of circ.u.mstances--was one of great indulgence and consideration, so that Jacqueline, soon feeling that she was for the present under no control, took the bit between her teeth. No other impression can adequately convey an idea of the sort of fury with which she plunged into pleasure and excitement, a state of mind which apparently, without any transition, succeeded her late melancholy. She had done with sentiment, she thought, forever. She meant to be practical and positive, a little Parisienne, and ”in the swim.” There were plenty of examples among those she knew that she could follow. Berthe, Helene, and Claire Wermant were excellent leaders in that sort of thing. Those three daughters of the 'agent de change' were at this time at Treport, in charge of a governess, who let them do whatever they pleased, subject only to be scolded by their father, who came down every Sat.u.r.day to Treport, on that train that was called the 'train des maris'. They had made friends with two or three American girls, who were called ”fast,” and Jacqueline was soon enrolled in the ranks of that gay company.
The cure that was begun on the wooden horse at Blackfern's was completed on the sea-sh.o.r.e.
The girls with whom she now a.s.sociated were nine or ten little imps of Satan, who, with their hair flying in the wind and their caps over one ear, made the quiet beach ring with their boy-like gayety. They were called ”the Blue Band,” because of a sort of uniform that they adopted.
We speak of them intentionally as masculine, and not feminine, because what is masculine best suited their appearance and behavior, for, though all could flirt like coquettes of experience, they were more like boys than girls, if judged by their age and their costume.
These Blues lived close to one another on that avenue that is edged with chalets, cottages, and villas, whose lower floors are abundantly provided with great gla.s.s windows, which seem to let the ocean into their very rooms, as well as to lay bare everything that pa.s.ses in them to the public eye, as frankly as if their inmates bivouacked in the open street. Nothing was private; neither the meals, nor the coming and going of visitors. It must be said, however, that the inhabitants of these gla.s.s houses were very seldom at home. Bathing, and croquet, or tennis, at low water, on the sands, searching for sh.e.l.ls, fis.h.i.+ng with nets, dances at the Casino, little family dances alternating with concerts, to which even children went till nine o'clock, would seem enough to fill up the days of these young people, but they had also to make boating excursions to Cayeux, Crotoy, and Hourdel, besides riding parties in the beautiful country that surrounded the Chateau of Lizerolles, where they usually dismounted on their return.
At Lizerolles they were received by Madame d'Argy, who was delighted that they provided safe amus.e.m.e.nt for her son, who appeared in the midst of this group of half-grown girls like a young c.o.c.k among the hens of his harem. Frederic d'Argy, the young naval officer, who was enjoying his holiday, as M. de Nailles had said, was enjoying it exceedingly.
How often, long after, on board the s.h.i.+p Floye, as he paced the silent quarter-deck, far from any opportunity of flirting, did he recall the forms and faces of these young girls, some dark, some fair, some rosy-half-women and half-children, who made much of him, and scolded him, and teased him, and contended for his attentions, while no better could be had, on purpose to tease one another. Oh! what a delightful time he had had! They did not leave him to himself one moment. He had to lift them into their saddles, to a.s.sist them as they clambered over the rocks, to superintend their attempts at swimming, to dance with them all by turns, and to look after them in the difficult character of Mentor, for he was older than they, and were they not entrusted to his care?
What a serious responsibility! Had not Mentor even found himself too often timid and excited when one little firm foot was placed in his hand, when his arm was round one little waist, when he could render her as a cavalier a thousand little services, or accept with gladness the role of her consoler. He did everything he could think of to please them, finding all of them charming, though Jacqueline never ceased to be the one he preferred, a preference which she might easily have inferred from the poor lad's unusual timidity and awkwardness when he was brought into contact with her. But she paid no attention to his devotion, accepting himself and all he did for her as, in some sort, her personal property.
He was of no consequence, he did not count; what was he but her comrade and former playfellow?
Happily for Fred, he took pleasure in the familiarity with which she treated him--a familiarity which, had he known it, was not flattering.
He was in the seventh heaven for a whole fortnight, during which he was the recipient of more dried flowers and bows of ribbon than he ever got in all the rest of his life--the American girls were very fond of giving keepsakes--but then his star waned. He was no longer the only one. The grown-up brother of the Wermants came to Treport--Raoul, with his air of a young man about town--a boulevardier, with his jacket cut in the latest fas.h.i.+on, with his c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l of a boat, which he managed as well on salt water as on fresh, sculling with his arms bare, a cigarette in his mouth, a monocle in his eye, and a pith-helmet, such as is worn in India. The young ladies used to gather on the sands to watch him as he struck the water with the broad blade of his scull, near enough for them to see and to admire his nautical ability. They thought all his jokes amusing, and they delighted in his way of seizing his partner for a waltz and bearing her off as if she were a prize, hardly allowing her to touch the floor.
Fred thought him, with his stock of old jokes, very ill-mannered. He laughed at his sculling, and had a great mind to strike him after he saw him waltzing with Jacqueline. But he had to acknowledge the general appreciation felt for the fellow whom he called vulgar.
Raoul Wermant did not stay long at Treport. He had only come to see his sisters on his way to Dieppe, where he expected to meet a certain Leah Skip, an actress from the 'Nouveautes'. If he kept her waiting, however, for some days, it was because he was loath to leave the handsome Madame de Villegry, who was living near her friend Madame de Nailles, recruiting herself after the fatigues of the winter season. Such being the situation, the young girls of the Blue Band might have tried in vain to make any impression upon him. But the hatred with which he inspired Fred found some relief in the composition of fragments of melancholy verse, which the young mids.h.i.+pman hid under his mattresses. It is not an uncommon thing for naval men to combine a love of the sea with a love of poetry. Fred's verses were not good, but they were full of dejection.
The poor fellow compared Raoul Wermant to Faust, and himself to Siebel.
He spoke of
The youth whose eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with salt tears, Whose heart was troubled by a thousand fears, Poor slighted lover!-since in his heavy heart All his illusions perish and depart.
Again, he wrote of Siebel:
O Siebel!--thine is but the common fate!
They told thee Fortune upon youth would wait; 'Tis false when love's in question-and you may--
Here he enumerated all the proofs of tenderness possible for a woman to give her lover, and then he added:
You may know all, poor Siebel!--all, some day, When weary of this life and all its dreams, You learn to know it is not what it seems; When there is nothing that can cheer you more, All that remains is fondly to adore!
And after trying in vain to find a rhyme for lover, he cried: