Books: L'Abbe Constantin, v2
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Ludovic Halevy >> L'Abbe Constantin, v2
"Mazette!"
When Madame Recamier saw her first wrinkles, and first gray hairs, she
said to a friend:
"Ah! my dear, there are no more illusions left for me! From the day
when I saw that the little chimney-sweeps no longer turned round in the
street to look at me, I understood that all was over."
The opinion of the confectioners' boys is, in similar cases, of equal
value with the opinion of the little chimney-sweeps. All was not over
for Susie and Bettina; on the contrary, all was only beginning.
Five minutes later, Mrs. Scott's carriage was ascending the Boulevard
Haussmann to the slow and measured trot of a pair of admirable horses.
Paris counted two Parisians the more.
The success of Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival was immediate, decisive,
like a flash of lightning. The beauties of Paris are not classed and
catalogued like the beauties of London; they do not publish their
portraits in the illustrated papers, or allow their photographs to be
sold at the stationers. However, there is always a little staff,
consisting of a score of women, who represent the grace, and charm, and
beauty of Paris, which women, after ten or twelve years' service, pass
into the reserve, just like the old generals. Susie and Bettina
immediately became part of this little staff. It was an affair of four-
and-twenty hours--of less than four-and-twenty hours, for all passed
between eight in the morning and midnight, the day after their arrival in
Paris.
Imagine a sort of little 'feerie', in three acts, of which the success
increases from tableau to tableau:
1st. A ride at ten in the morning in the Bois, with the two marvellous
grooms imported from America.
2d. A walk at six o'clock in the Allee des Acacias.
3d. An appearance at the opera at ten in the evening in Mrs. Norton's
box.
The two novelties were immediately remarked, and appreciated as they
deserved to be, by the thirty or forty persons who constitute a sort of
mysterious tribunal, and who, in the name of all Paris, pass sentence
beyond appeal. These thirty or forty persons have, from time to time,
the fancy to declare "delicious" some woman who is manifestly ugly.
That is enough; she is "delicious" from that moment.
The beauty of the two sisters was unquestionable. In the morning, it was
their grace, their elegance, their distinction that attracted universal
admiration; in the afternoon, it was declared that their walk had the
freedom and ease of two young goddesses; in the evening, there was but
one cry of rapture at the ideal perfection of their shoulders. From that
moment, all Paris had for the two sisters the eyes of the little pastry-
cook of the Rue d'Amsterdam; all Paris repeated his 'Mazette', though
naturally with the variations and developments imposed by the usages of
the world.
Mrs. Scott's drawing-room immediately became the fashion. The habitues
of three or four great American houses transferred themselves to the
Scotts, who had three hundred persons at their first Wednesday. Their
circle increased; there was a little of everything to be found in their
set--Americans, Spaniards, Italians, Hungarians, Russians, and even
Parisians.
When she had related her history to the Abbe Constantin, Mrs. Scott had
not told all--one never does tell all. In a word, she was a coquette.
Mr. Scott had the most perfect confidence in his wife, and left her
entire liberty. He appeared very little; he was an honorable man, who
felt a vague embarrassment at having made such a marriage, at having
married so much money.
Having a taste for business, he had great pleasure in devoting himself
entirely to the administering of the two immense fortunes which were in
his hands, in continually increasing them, and in saying every year to
his wife and sister in-law:
"You are still richer than you were last year!"
Not content with watching with much prudence and ability over the
interests which he had left in America, he launched in France into large
speculations, and was as successful in Paris as he had been in New York.
In order to make money, the first thing is to have no need of it.
They made love to Mrs. Scott to an enormous extent; they made love to her
in French, in Italian, in English, in Spanish; for she knew those four
languages, and there is one advantage that foreigners have over our poor
Parisians, who usually know only their mother tongue, and have not the
resource of international passions.
Naturally, Mrs. Scott did not drive her adorers from her presence. She
had ten, twenty, thirty at a time.
No one could boast of any preference; to all she opposed the same
amiable, laughing, joyous resistance. It was clear to all that the game
amused her, and that she did not for a moment take it seriously. Mr.
Scott never felt a moment's anxiety, and he was perfectly right. More,
he enjoyed his wife's successes; he was happy in seeing her happy. He
loved her dearly--a little more than she loved him. She loved him very
much, and that was all. There is a great difference between dearly and
very much when these two adverbs are placed after the verb to love.
As to Bettina, around her was a maddening whirl, an orgy of adulation.
Such fortune! Such beauty! Miss Percival arrived in Paris on the 15th
of April; a fortnight had not passed before the offers of marriage began
to pour upon her. In the course of that first year, she might, had she
wished it, have been married thirty-four times, and to what a variety of
suitors!
They asked her hand for a young exile, who, under certain circumstances,
might be called to ascend a throne--a very small one, it is true, but a
throne nevertheless.
They asked her hand for a young duke, who would make a great figure at
Court when France--as was inevitable--should recognize her errors, and
bow down before her legitimate masters.
They asked her hand for a young prince, who would have a place on the
steps of the throne when France--as was inevitable--should again knit
together the chain of the Napoleonic traditions.
They asked her hand for a young Republican deputy, who had just made a
most brilliant debut in the Chamber, and for whom the future reserved the
most splendid destiny, for the Republic was now established in France on
the most indestructible basis.
They asked her hand for a young Spaniard of the purest lineage, and she
was given to understand that the 'contrat' would be signed in the palace
of a queen, who does not live far from the Arc de Triomphe. Besides, one
can find her address in the 'Almanach Bottin', for at the present day,
there are queens who have their address in Bottin between an attorney and
a druggist; it is only the kings of France who no longer live in France.
They asked her hand for the son of a peer of England, and for the son of
a member of the highest Viennese aristocracy; for the son of a Parisian
banker, and for the son of a Russian ambassador; for a Hungarian count,
and for an Italian prince; and also for various excellent young men who
were nothing and had nothing--neither name nor fortune; but Bettina had
granted them a waltz, and, believing themselves irresistible, they hoped
that they had caused a flutter of that little heart.
But up to the present moment nothing had touched that little heart, and
the reply had been the same to all "No! no!" again "No!" always "No!"
Some days after that performance of Aida, the two sisters had a rather
long conversation on this great, this eternal question of marriage. A
certain name had been pronounced by Mrs. Scott which had provoked on the
part of Miss Percival the most decided and most energetic refusal, and
Susie had laughingly said to her sister:
"But, Bettina, you will be obliged to end by marrying."
"Yes, certainly, but I should be so sorry to marry without love. It
seems to me that before I could resolve to do such a thing I must be in
danger of dying an old maid, and I am not yet that."
"No, not yet."
"Let us wait, let us wait."
"Let us wait. But among all these lovers whom you have been dragging
after you for the last year, there have been some very nice, very
amiable, and it is really a little strange if none of them--"
"None, my Susie, none, absolutely none. Why should I not tell you the
truth? Is it their fault? Have they gone unskilfully to work? Could
they, in managing better, have found the way to my heart? or is the
fault in me? Is it perhaps, that the way to my heart is a steep, rocky,
inaccessible way, by which no one will ever pass? Am I a horrid little
creature, and, cold, and condemned never to love?"
"I do not think so."
"Neither do I, but up to the present time that is my history. No, I have
never felt anything which resembled love. You are laughing, and I can
guess why. You are saying to yourself, 'A little girl like that
pretending to know what love is!' You are right; I do not know, but I
have a pretty good idea. To love--is it not to prefer to all in the
world one certain person?"
"Yes; it is really that."
"Is it not never to weary of seeing that person, or of hearing him? Is
it not to cease to live when he is not there, and to immediately begin to
revive when he reappears?"
"Oh, but this is romantic love."
"Well, that is the love of which I dream, and that is the love which does
not come--not at all till now; and yet that person preferred by me to all
and everything does exist. Do you know who it is?"
"No, I do not know; I do not know, but I have a little suspicion."
"Yes, it is you, my dearest, and it is perhaps you, naughty sister, who
makes me so insensible and cruel on this point. I love you too much; you
fill my heart; you have occupied it entirely; there is no room for any
one else. Prefer any one to you! Love any one more than you! That will
never, never be!"
"Oh, yes, it will."
"Oh, no. Love differently, perhaps, but more--no. He must not count
upon that, this gentleman whom I expect, and who does not arrive."
"Do not be afraid, my Betty, there is room in your heart for all whom you
should love--for your husband, for your children, and that without your
old sister losing anything. The heart is very little, but it is also
very large."
Bettina tenderly embraced her sister; then, resting her head coaxingly on
Susie's shoulder, she said:
"If, however, you are tired of keeping me with you, if you are in a hurry
to get rid of me, do you know what I will do? I will put the names of
two of these gentlemen in a basket, and draw lots. There are two who at
the last extremity would not be absolutely disagreeable."
"Which two?"
"Guess."
"Prince Romanelli."
"For one! And the other?"
"Monsieur de Montessan."
"Those are the two! It is just that. Those two would be acceptable,
but only acceptable, and that is not enough."
This is why Bettina awaited with extreme impatience the day when she
should leave Paris, and take up their abode in Longueval. She was a
little tired of so much pleasure, so much success, so many offers of
marriage. The whirlpool of Parisian gayety had seized her on her
arrival, and would not let her go, not for one hour of halt or rest. She
felt the need of being given up to herself for a few days, to herself
alone, to consult and question herself at her leisure, in the complete
solitude of the country-in a word, to belong to herself again.
Was not Bettina all sprightly and joyous when, on the 14th of June, they
took the train for Longueval? As soon as she was alone in a coupe with
her sister:
"Ah!" she cried, "how happy I am! Let us breathe a little, quite alone,
you and me, for a few days. The Nortons and Turners do not come till the
25th, do they?"
"No, not till the 25th."
"We will pass our lives riding or driving in the woods, in the fields.
Ten days of liberty! And during those ten days no more lovers, no more
lovers! And all those lovers, with what are they in love, with me or my
money? That is the mystery, the unfathomable mystery."
The engine whistled; the train put itself slowly into motion. A wild
idea entered Bettina's head. She leaned out of the window and cried,
accompanying her words with a little wave of the hand:
"Good-by, my lovers, good-by."
Then she threw herself suddenly into a corner of the coupe with a hearty
burst of laughter.
"Oh, Susie, Susie!"
"What is the matter?"
"A man with a red flag in his hand; he saw me, and he looked so
astonished."
"You are so irrational!"
"Yes, it is true, to have called out of the window like that, but not to
be happy at thinking that we are going to live alone, 'en garcons'."
"Alone! alone! Not exactly that. To begin with, we shall have two
people to dinner to-night."
"Ah! that is true. But those two people, I shall not be at all sorry to
see them again. Yes, I shall be well pleased to see the old Cure again,
but especially the young officer."
"What! especially?"
"Certainly; because what the lawyer from Souvigny told us the other day
is so touching, and what that great artilleryman did when he was quite
little was so good, so good, that this evening I shall seek for an
opportunity of telling him what I think of it, and I shall find one."
Then Bettina, abruptly changing the course of the conversation,
continued:
"Did they send the telegram yesterday to Edwards about the ponies?"
"Yes, yesterday before dinner."
"Oh, you will let me drive them up to the house. It will be such fun to
go through the town, and to drive up at full speed into the court in
front of the entrance. Tell me, will you?"
"Yes, certainly, you shall drive the ponies."
"Oh, how nice of you, Susie!"
Edwards was the stud-groom. He had arrived at Longueval three days
before. He deigned to come himself--to meet Mrs. Scott and Miss
Percival. He brought the phaeton drawn by the four black ponies. He was
waiting at the station. The passage of the ponies through the principal
street of the town had made a sensation. The population rushed out of
their houses, and asked eagerly:
"What is it? What can it be?"
Some ventured the opinion:
"It is, perhaps, a travelling circus."
But exclamations arose on all sides:
"You did not notice the style of it--the carriage and the harness shining
like gold, and the little horses with their white rosettes on each side
of the head."
The crowd collected around the station, and those who were curious
learned that they were going to witness the arrival of the new owners of
Longueval. They were slightly disenchanted when the two sisters
appeared, very pretty, but in very simple travelling costumes.
These good people had almost expected the apparition of two princesses
out of fairy tales, clad in silk and brocade, sparkling with rubies and
diamonds. But they opened wide their eyes when they saw Bettina walk
slowly round the four ponies, caressing one after another lightly with
her hand, and examining all the details of the team with the air of a
connoisseur.
Having made her inspection, Bettina, without the least hurry, drew off
her long Swedish gloves, and replaced them by a pair of dog-skin which
she took from the pocket of the carriage apron. Then she slipped on to
the box in the place of Edwards, receiving from him the reins and whip
with extreme dexterity, without allowing the already excited horses to
perceive that they had changed hands.
Mrs. Scott seated herself beside her sister. The ponies pranced,
curveted, and threatened to rear.
"Be very careful, miss," said Edwards; "the ponies are very fresh to-
day."
"Do not be afraid," replied Bettina. "I know them."
Miss Percival had a hand at once very firm, very light, and very just.
She held in the ponies for a few moments, forcing them to keep their own
places; then, waving the long thong of her whip round the leaders, she
started her little team at once, with incomparable skill, and left the
station with an air of triumph, in the midst of a long murmur of
astonishment and admiration.
The trot of the black ponies rang on the little oval paving-stones of
Souvigny. Bettina held them well together until she had left the town,
but as soon as she saw before her a clear mile and a half of highroad-
almost on a dead level-she let them gradually increase their speed, till
they went like the wind.
"Oh! how happy I am, Susie!" cried she; "and we shall trot and gallop
all alone on these roads. Susie, would you like to drive? It is such a
delight when one can let them go at full speed. They are so spirited and
so gentle. Come, take the reins."
"No; keep them. It is a greater pleasure to me to see you happy."
"Oh, as to that, I am perfectly happy. I do like so much to drive four-
in-hand with plenty of space before me. At Paris, even in the morning,
I did not dare to any longer. They looked at me so, it annoyed me. But
here--no one! no one! no one!"
At the moment when Bettina, already a little intoxicated with the bracing
air and liberty, gave forth triumphantly these three exclamations, "No
one! no one! no one!" a rider appeared, walking his horse in the
direction of the carriage. It was Paul de Lavardens. He had been
watching for more than an hour for the pleasure of seeing the Americans
pass.
"You are mistaken," said Susie to Bettina; "there is some one."
"A peasant; they don't count; they won't ask me to marry them."
"It is not a peasant at all. Look!"
Paul de Lavardens, while passing the carriage, made the two sisters a
highly correct bow, from which one at once scented the Parisian.
The ponies were going at such a rate that the meeting was over like a
flash of lightning.
Bettina cried:
"Who is that gentleman who has just bowed to us?"
"I had scarcely time to see, but I seemed to recognize him."
"You recognized him?"
"Yes, and I would wager that I have seen him at our house this winter."
"Heavens! if it should be one of the thirty-four! Is all that going to
begin again?"
CHAPTER VI
A LITTLE DINNER FOR FOUR
That same day, at half-past seven, Jean went to fetch the Cure, and the
two walked together up to the house. During the last month a perfect
army of workmen had taken possession of Longueval; all the inns in the
village were making their fortunes.
Enormous furniture wagons brought cargoes of furniture and decorations
from Paris. Forty-eight hours before the arrival of Mrs. Scott,
Mademoiselle Marbeau, the postmistress, and Madame Lormier, the mayoress,
had wormed themselves into the castle, and the account they gave of the
interior turned every one's head. The old furniture had disappeared,
banished to the attics; one moved among a perfect accumulation of
wonders. And the stables! and the coach-houses! A special train had
brought from Paris, under the high superintendence of Edwards, a dozen
carriages--and such carriages! Twenty horses--and such horses!
The Abbe Constantin thought that he knew what luxury was. Once a year he
dined with his bishop, Monseigneur Faubert, a rich and amiable prelate,
who entertained rather largely. The Cure, till now, had, thought that
there was nothing in the world more sumptuous than the Episcopal palace
of Souvigny, or the castles of Lavardens and Longueval.
He began to understand, from what he was told of the new splendors of
Longueval, that the luxury of the great houses of the present day must
surpass to a singular degree the sober and severe luxury of the great
houses of former times.
As soon as the Cure and Jean had entered the avenue in the park, which
led to the house:
"Look! Jean," said the Cure; "what a change! All this part of the park
used to be quite neglected, and now all the paths are gravelled and
raked. I shall not be able to feel myself at home as I used to do: it
will be too grand. I shall not find again my old brown velvet easy-
chair, in which I so often fell asleep after dinner, and if I fall asleep
this evening what will become of me? You will think of it, Jean, and if
you see that I begin to forget myself, you will come behind me and pinch
my arm gently, won't you? You promise me?"
"Certainly, certainly, I promise you."
Jean paid but slight attention to the conversation of the Cure. He felt
extremely impatient to see Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival again, but this
impatience was mingled with very keen anxiety. Would he find them in the
great salon at Longueval the same as he had seen them in the little
dining-room at the vicarage? Perhaps, instead of those two women, so
perfectly simple and familiar, amusing themselves with this little
improvised dinner, and who, the very first day, had treated him with so
much grace and cordiality, would he find two pretty dolls-worldly,
elegant, cold, and correct? Would his first impression be effaced?
Would it disappear? or, on the contrary, would the impression in his
heart become still sweeter and deeper?
They ascended the six steps at the entrance, and were received in the
hall by two tall footmen with the most dignified and imposing air. This
hall had formerly been a vast, frigid apartment, with bare stone walls.
These walls were now covered with admirable tapestry, representing
mythological subjects. The Cure dared scarcely glance at this tapestry;
it was enough for him to perceive that the goddesses who wandered through
these shades wore costumes of antique simplicity.
One of the footmen opened wide the folding-doors of the salon. It was
there that one had generally found the old Marquise, on the right of the
high chimney-piece, and on the left had stood the brown velvet easy-
chair.
No brown easy-chair now! That old relic of the Empire, which was the
basis of the arrangement of the salon, had been replaced by a marvellous
specimen of tapestry of the end of the last century. Then a crowd of
little easy-chairs, and ottomans of all forms and all colors, were
scattered here and there with an appearance of disorder which was the
perfection of art.
As soon as Mrs. Scott saw the Cure and Jean enter, she rose, and going to
meet them, said:
"How kind of you to come, Monsieur le Cure, and you, too, Monsieur Jean.
How pleased I am to see you, my first, my only friends down here!"
Jean breathed again. It was the same woman.
"Will you allow me," added Mrs. Scott, "to introduce my children to you?
Harry and Bella, come here."
Harry was a very pretty little boy of six, and Bella a very charming
little girl, five years old. They had their mother's large, dark eyes,
and her golden hair.
After the Cure had kissed the two children, Harry, who was looking with
admiration at Jean's uniform, said to his mother:
"And the soldier, mamma, must we kiss him, too?"
"If you like," replied Mrs. Scott, "and if he will allow it."
A moment after, the two children were installed upon Jean's knees, and
overwhelming him with questions.
"Are you an officer?"
"Yes, I am an officer."
"What in?"
"In the artillery."
"The artillery! Oh, you are one of the men who fire the cannon. Oh, how
I should like to be quite near when they fire the cannon!"
"Will you take us some day when they fire the cannon? Tell me, will
you?"
Meanwhile, Mrs. Scott chatted with the Cure, and Jean, while replying to
the children's questions, looked at Mrs. Scott. She wore a white muslin
frock, but the muslin disappeared under a complete avalanche of little
flounces of Valenciennes. The dress was cut out in front in a large
square, her arms were bare to the elbow, a large bouquet of red roses at
the opening of her dress, a red rose fixed in her hair, with a diamond
'agraffe'--nothing more.
Mrs. Scott suddenly perceived that the children had taken entire
possession of Jean, and exclaimed:
"Oh, I beg your pardon. Harry, Bella!"
"Oh, pray let them stay with me."
"I am so sorry to keep you waiting for dinner; my sister is not down yet.
Oh! here she is!"
Bettina entered. The same frock of white muslin, the same delicate mass
of lace, the same red roses, the same grace, the same beauty, and the
same smiling, amiable, candid manner.
"How do you do, Monsieur le Cure? I am delighted to see you. Have you
pardoned my dreadful intrusion of the other day?"
Then, turning toward Jean and offering him her hand:
"How do you do, Monsieur--Monsieur--Oh! I can not remember your name,
and yet we seem to be already old friends, Monsieur--"
"Jean Reynaud."
"Jean Reynaud, that is it. How do you do, Monsieur Reynaud? I warn you
faithfully that when we really are old friends--that is to say, in about
a week--I shall call you Monsieur Jean. It is a pretty name, Jean."
Up to the moment when Bettina appeared Jean had said to himself:
"Mrs. Scott is the prettier!"
When he felt Bettina's little hand slip into his arm, and when she turned
toward him her delicious face, he said:
"Miss Percival is the prettier!"
But his perplexities gathered round him again when he was seated between
the two sisters. If he looked to the right, love threatened him from
that direction, and if he looked to the left, the danger removed
immediately, and passed to the left.
Conversation began, easy, animated, confidential. The two sisters were
charmed; they had already walked in the park; they promised themselves a
long ride in the forest tomorrow. Riding was their passion, their
madness. It was also Jean's passion, so that after a quarter of an hour
they begged him to join them the next day. There was no one who knew the
country round better than he did; it was his native place. He should be
so happy to do the honors of it, and to show them numbers of delightful
little spots which, without him, they would never discover.