Books: Cosmopolis, v2
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Paul Bourget >> Cosmopolis, v2
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"I will read to you the letter which the Baron left for me with Florent,"
said Dorsenne, who indeed read the very courteous note Hafner had written
to him, in which he excused himself for choosing his own house as a
rendezvous for the four witnesses. "One can not ignore so polite a
note."
"There are too many dear sirs, and too many compliments," said
Montfanon, brusquely. "Sit here," he continued, relinquishing his
armchair to Florent, "and inform the two men of our names and address,
adding that we are at their service and ignoring the first inaccuracy on
their part. Let them return!.... And you, Dorsenne, since you are
afraid of wounding that gentleman, I will not prevent you from going to
his house--personally, do you hear--to warn him that Monsieur Chapron,
here present, has chosen for his first second a disagreeable person, an
old duellist, anything you like, but who desires strict form, and, first
of all, a correct call made upon us by them, in order to settle
officially upon a rendezvous."
"What did I tell you?" asked Dorsenne, when he with Florent descended
Montfanon's staircase. "He is a different man since you mentioned the
Baron to him. The discussion between them will be a hot one. I hope he
will not spoil all by his folly. On my honor, if I had guessed whom
Gorka would choose I should not have suggested to you the old leaguer,
as I call him."
"And I, if Monsieur de Montfanon should make me fight at five paces,"
replied Chapron, with a laugh, "would be grateful to you for having
brought me into relations with him. He is a whole-souled man, as was my
poor father, as is Maitland. I adore such people."
"Is there no means of having at once heart and head?" said Julien to
himself, on reaching the Palais Savorelli, where Hafner lived, and
recalling the Marquis's choler on the one hand, and on the other the
egotism of Maitland, of which Florent's last words reminded him. His
apprehension of the afternoon returned in a greater degree, for he knew
Montfanon to be very sensitive on certain points, and it was one of those
points which would be wounded to the quick by the forced relations with
Gorka's witnesses. "I do not trust Hafner," thought he; "if the cunning
fellow has accepted the mission utterly contrary to his tastes, his
habits, almost to his age, it must be to connive with his future son-in-
law and to conciliate all. Perhaps even the marriage had been already
settled? I hope not. The Marquis would be so furious he would require
the duel to a letter."
The young man had guessed aright. Chance, which often brings one event
upon another, decreed that Ardea, at the very moment that he was
deliberating with Gorka as to the choice of another second, received a
note from Madame Steno containing simply these words: "Your proposal has
been made, and the answer is yes. May I be the first to embrace you,
Simpaticone?"
An ingenious idea occurred to him; to have arranged by his future father-
in-law the quarrel which he considered at once absurd, useless, and
dangerous. The eagerness with which Gorka had accepted Hafner's name,
proved, as Dorsenne and Florent had divined, his desire that his
perfidious mistress should be informed of his doings. As for the Baron,
he consented--oh, irony of coincidences!--by saying to Peppino Ardea
words almost identical with those which Montfanon had uttered to
Dorsenne:
"We will draw up, in advance, an official plan of conciliation, and, if
the matter can not be arranged, we will withdraw."
It was in such terms that the memorable conversation was concluded, a
conversation truly worthy of the combinazione which poor Fanny's marriage
represented. There had been less question of the marriage itself than
that of the services to be rendered to the infidelity of the woman who
presided over the sorry traffic! Is it necessary to add that neither
Ardea nor his future father-in-law had made the shadow of an allusion to
the true side of the affair? Perhaps at any other time the excessive
prudence innate to the Baron and his care never to compromise himself
would have deterred him from the possible annoyances which might arise
from an interference in the adventure of an exasperated and discarded
lover. But his joy at the thought that his daughter was to become a
Roman princess--and with what a name!--had really turned his brain.
He had, however, the good sense to say to the stunned Ardea: "Madame
Steno must know nothing of it, at least beforehand. She would not fail
to inform Madame Gorka, and God knows of what the latter would be
capable."
In reality, the two men were convinced that it was essential, directly or
indirectly, to beware of warning Maitland. They employed the remainder
of the afternoon in paying their visit to Florent, then in sending
telegram after telegram to announce the betrothal, with which charming
Fanny seemed more satisfied since Cardinal Guerillot had consented, at
simply a word from her, to preside at her baptism. The Baron, in the
face of that consent, could not restrain his joy. He loved his daughter,
strange man, somewhat in the manner in which a breeder loves a favorite
horse which has won the Grand Prix for him. When Dorsenne arrived,
bearing Chapron's note and Montfanon's message, he was received with a
cordiality and a complaisance which at once enlightened him upon the
result of the matrimonial intrigue of which Alba had spoken to him.
"Anything that your friend wishes, my dear sir.... Is it not so,
Peppino?" said the Baron, seating himself at his table. "Will you
dictate the letter yourself, Dorsenne?.... See, is this all right? You
will understand with what sentiments we have accepted this mission when
you learn that Fanny is betrothed to Prince Ardea, here present. The
news dates from three o'clock. So you are the first to know it, is he
not, Peppino?" He had drawn up not less than two hundred despatches.
"Return whenever you like with the Marquis.... I simply ask, under the
circumstances, that the interview take place, if it be possible, between
six and seven, or between nine and ten, in order not to interfere with
our little family dinner."
"Let us say nine o'clock," said Dorsenne. "Monsieur de Montfanon is
somewhat formal. He would like to have your reply by letter."
"Prince Ardea to marry Mademoiselle Hafner!" That cry which the news
brought by Julien wrested from Montfanon was so dolorous that the young
man did not think of laughing. He had thought it wiser to prepare his
irascible friend, lest the Baron might make some allusion to the grand
event during the course of the conversation, and that the other might not
make some impulsive remark.
"Did I not tell you that the girl's Catholicism was a farce? Did I not
tell Monseigneur Guerillot? This was what she aimed at all those years,
with such perfect hypocrisy? It was the Palais Castagna. And she will
enter there as mistress!.... She will bring there the dishonor of that
pirated gold on which there are stains of blood! Warn them, that they do
not speak to me of it, or I will not answer for myself.... The second of
a Gorka, the father-in-law of an Ardea, he triumphs, the thief who should
by rights be a convict!.... But we shall see. Will not all the other
Roman princes who have no blots upon their escutcheons, the Orsinis, the
Colonnas, the Odeschalchis, the Borgheses, the Rospigliosis, not combine
to prevent this monstrosity? Nobility is like love, those who buy those
sacred things degrade them in paying for them, and those to whom they are
given are no better than mire.... Princess d'Ardea! That creature!
Ah, what a disgrace!.... But we must remember our engagement relative to
that brave young Chapron. The boy pleases me; first, because very
probably he is going to fight for some one else and out of a devotion
which I can not very well understand! It is devotion all the same, and
it is chivalry!.... He desires to prevent that miserable Gorka from
calling forth a scandal which would have warned his sister.... And then,
as I told him, he respects the dead.... Let us.... I have my wits no
longer about me, that intelligence has so greatly disturbed me....
Princess d'Ardea!.... Well, write that we will be at Monsieur Hafner's
at nine o'clock.... I do not want any of those people at my house....
At yours it would not be proper; you are too young. And I prefer going
to the father-in-law's rather than to the son-inlaw's. The rascal has
made a good bargain in buying what he has bought with his stolen
millions. But the other.... And his great-great-uncle might have been
Jules Second, Pie Fifth, Hildebrand; he would have sold all just the
same!.... He can not deceive himself! He has heard the suit against
that man spoken of! He knows whence come those millions! He has heard
their family, their lives spoken of! And he has not been inspired with
too great a horror to accept the gold of that adventurer. Does he not
know what a name is? Our name! It is ourselves, our honor, in the
mouths, in the thoughts, of others! How happy I am, Dorsenne, to have
been fifty-two years of age last month. I shall be gone before having
seen what you will see, the agony of all the aristocrats and royalties.
It was only in blood that they fell! But they do not fall. Alas! They
fix themselves upon the ground, which is the saddest of all. Still, what
matters it? The monarchy, the nobility, and the Church are everlasting.
The people who disregard them will die, that is all. Come, write your
letter, which I will sign. Send it away, and you will dine with me. We
must go into the den provided with an argument which will prevent this
duel, and sustaining our part toward our client. There must be an
arrangement which I would accept myself. I like him, I repeat."
The excitement which began to startle Dorsenne was only augmented during
dinner, so much the more so as, on discussing the conditions of that
arrangement he hoped to bring about, the recollection of his terrible
youth filled the thoughts and the discourse of the former duellist. Was
it, indeed, the same personage who recited the verses of a hymn in the
catacombs a few hours before? It only required the feudal in him to be
reawakened to transform him. The fire in his eyes and the color in his
face betrayed that the duel in which he had thought best to engage, out
of charity, intoxicated him on his own statement. It was the old
amateur, the epicure of the sword, very ungovernable, which stirred
within that man of faith, in whom passion had burned and who had loved
all excitement, including that of danger, as to-day he loved his ideas,
as he loved his flagi mmoderately. He no longer thought of the three
women to be spared suspicion, nor of the good deed to be accomplished.
He saw all his old friends and their talent for fighting, the thrusts of
this one, the way another had of striking, the composure of a third, and
then this refrain interrupted constantly his warlike anecdotes: "But why
the deuce has Gorka chosen that Hafner for his second?.... It is
incomprehensible.".... On entering the carriage which was to bear them
to their interview, he heard Dorsenne say to the coachman: "Palais
Savorelli."
"That is the final blow," said he, raising his arm and clenching his
fist. "The adventurer occupies the Pretender's house, the house of the
Stuarts.".... He repeated: "The house of the Stuarts!" and then lapsed
into a silence which the writer felt to be laden with more storminess
than his last denunciation. He did not emerge from his meditations until
ushered into the salon of the ci-devant jeweller, now a grand seigneur--
into one of the salons, rather, for there were five. There Montfanon
began to examine everything around him, with an air of such contempt and
pride that, notwithstanding his anxiety, Dorsenne could not resist
laughing and teasing him by saying:
"You will not pretend to say that there are no pretty things here? These
two paintings by Moroni, for example?"
"Nothing that is appropriate," replied Montfanon. "Yes, they are two
magnificent portraits of ancestors, and this man has no ancestors!....
There are some weapons in that cupboard, and he has never touched a
sword! And there is a piece of tapestry representing the miracles of the
loaves, which is a piece of audacity! You may not believe me, Dorsenne,
but it is making me ill to be here.... I am reminded of the human toil,
of the human soul in all these objects, and to end here, paid for how?
Owned by whom? Close your eyes and think of Schroeder and of the others
whom you do not know. Look into the hovels where there is neither
furniture, fire, nor bread. Then, open your eyes and look at this."
"And you, my dear friend," replied the novelist, "I conjure you to think
of our conversation in the catacombs, to think of the three ladies in
whose names I besought you to aid Florent."
"Thank you," said Montfanon, passing his hand over his brow, "I promise
you to be calm."
He had scarcely uttered those words when the door opened, disclosing to
view another room, lighted also, and which, to judge by the sound of
voices, contained several persons. No doubt Madame Steno and Alba,
thought Julien; and the Baron entered, accompanied by Peppino Ardea.
While going through the introductions, the writer was struck by the
contrast offered between his three companions. Hafner and Ardea in
evening dress, with buttonhole bouquets, had the open and happy faces of
two citizens who had clear consciences. The usually sallow complexion of
the business man was tinged with excitement, his eyes, as a rule so hard,
were gentler. As for the Prince, the same childish carelessness lighted
up his jovial face, while the hero of Patay, with his coarse boots, his
immense form enveloped in a somewhat shabby redingote, exhibited a face
so contracted that one would have thought him devoured by remorse.
A dishonest intendant, forced to expose his accounts to generous and
confiding masters, could not have had a face more gloomy or more anxious.
He had, moreover, put his one arm behind his back in a manner so formal
that neither of the two men who entered offered him their hands. That
appearance was without doubt little in keeping with what the father and
the fiance of Fanny had expected; for there was, when the four men were
seated, a pause which the Baron was the first to break. He began in his
measured tones, in a voice which handles words as the weight of a usurer
weighs gold pieces to the milligramme:
"Gentlemen, I believe I shall express our common sentiment in first of
all establishing a point which shall govern our meeting.... We are here,
it is understood, to bring about the work of reconciliation between two
men, two gentlemen whom we know, whom we esteem--I might better say, whom
we all love.".... He turned, in pronouncing those words, successively to
each of his three listeners, who all bowed, with the exception of the
Marquis. Hafner examined the nobleman, with his glance accustomed to
read the depths of the mind in order to divine the intentions. He saw
that Chapron's first witness was a troublesome customer, and he
continued: "That done, I beg to read to you this little paper." He drew
from his pocket a sheet of folded paper and placed upon the end of his
nose his famous gold 'lorgnon': "It is very trifling, one of those
directives, as Monsieur de Moltke says, which serve to guide operations,
a plan of action which we will modify after discussion. In short, it is
a landmark that we may not launch into space."
"Pardon, sir," interrupted Montfanon, whose brows contracted still more
at the mention of the celebrated field-marshal, and, stopping by a
gesture the reader, who, in his surprise, dropped his lorgnon upon the
table on which his elbow rested. "I regret very much," he continued, "to
be obliged to tell you that Monsieur Dorsenne and I"--here he turned to
Dorsenne, who made an equivocal gesture of vexation"--can not admit the
point of view in which you place yourself.... You claim that we are here
to arrange a reconciliation. That is possible.... I concede that it is
desirable.... But I know nothing of it and, permit me to say, you do not
know any more. I am here--we are here, Monsieur Dorsenne and I, to
listen to the complaints which Count Gorka has commissioned you to
formulate to Monsieur Florent Chapron's proxies. Formulate those
complaints, and we will discuss them. Formulate the reparation you claim
in the name of your client and we will discuss it. The papers will
follow, if they follow at all, and, once more, neither you nor we know
what will be the issue of this conversation, nor should we know it,
before establishing the facts."
"There is some misunderstanding, sir," said Ardea, whom Montfanon's words
had irritated somewhat. He could not, any more than Hafner, understand
the very simple, but very singular, character of the Marquis, and he
added: "I have been concerned in several 'rencontres'--four times as
second, and once as principal--and I have seen employed without
discussion the proceeding which Baron Hafner has just proposed to you,
and which of itself is, perhaps, only a more expeditious means of
arriving at what you very properly call the establishment of facts."
"I was not aware of the number of your affairs, sir," replied Montfanon,
still more nervous since Hafner's future son-in-law joined in the
conversation; "but since it has pleased you to tell us I will take the
liberty of saying to you that I have fought seven times, and that I have
been a second fourteen.... It is true that it was at an epoch when the
head of your house was your father, if I remember right, the deceased
Prince Urban, whom I had the honor of knowing when I served in the
zouaves. He was a fine Roman nobleman, and did honor to his name. What
I have told you is proof that I have some competence in the matter of a
duel.... Well, we have always held that seconds were constituted to
arrange affairs that could be arranged, but also to settle affairs, as
well as they can, that seem incapable of being arranged. Let us now
inquire into the matter; we are here for that, and for nothing else."
"Are these gentlemen of that opinion?" asked Hafner in a conciliatory
voice, turning first to Dorsenne, then to Ardea: "I do not adhere to my
method," he continued, again folding his paper. He slipped it into his
vest-pocket and continued: "Let us establish the facts, as you say.
Count Gorka, our friend, considers himself seriously, very seriously,
offended by Monsieur Florent Chapron in the course of the discussion in a
public street. Monsieur Chapron was carried away, as you know, sirs,
almost to--what shall I say?--hastiness, which, however, was not followed
by consequences, thanks to the presence of mind of Monsieur Gorka....
But, accomplished or not, the act remains. Monsieur Gorka was insulted,
and he requires satisfaction.... I do not believe there is any doubt
upon that point which is the cause of the affair, or, rather, the whole
affair."
"I again ask your pardon, sir," said Montfanon, dryly, who no longer took
pains to conceal his anger, "Monsieur Dorsenne and I can not accept your
manner of putting the question.... You say that Monsieur Chapron's
hastiness was not followed by consequences by reason of Monsieur Gorka's
presence of mind. We claim that there was only on the part of Monsieur
Chapron a scarcely indicated gesture, which he himself restrained. In
consequence you attribute to Monsieur Gorka the quality of the insulted
party; you are over-hasty. He is merely the plaintiff, up to this time.
It is very different."
"But by rights he is the insulted party," interrupted Ardea. "Restrained
or not, it constitutes a threat of assault. I did not wish to claim to
be a duellist by telling you of my engagements. But this is the A B C of
the 'codice cavalleresco', if the insult be followed by an assault, he
who receives the blow is the offended party, and the threat of an assault
is equivalent to an actual assault. The offended party has the choice of
a duel, weapons and conditions. Consult your authors and ours:
Chateauvillars, Du Verger, Angelini and Gelli, all agree."
"I am sorry for their sakes," said Montfanon, and he looked at the Prince
with a contraction of the brows almost menacing, "but it is an opinion
which does not hold good generally, nor in this particular case. The
proof is that a duellist, as you have just said," his voice trembled as
he emphasized the insolence offered by the other, "a bravo, to use the
expression of your country, would only have to commit a justifiable
murder by first insulting him at whom he aims with rude words. The
insulted person replies by a voluntary gesture, on the signification of
which one may be mistaken, and you will admit that the bravo is the
offended party, and that he has the choice of weapons."
"But, Marquis," resumed Hafner, with evident disgust, so greatly did the
cavilling and the ill-will of the nobleman irritate him, "where are you
wandering to? What do you mean by bringing up chicanery of this sort?"
"Chicanery!" exclaimed Montfanon, half rising.
"Montfanon!" besought Dorsenne, rising in his turn and forcing the
terrible man to be seated.
"I retract the word," said the Baron, "if it has insulted you. Nothing
was farther from my thoughts.... I repeat that I apologize, Marquis....
But, come, tell us what you want for your client, that is very simple....
And then we will do all we can to make your demands agree with those of
our client.... It is a trifling matter to be adjusted."
"No, sir," said Montfanon, with insolent severity, "it is justice to be
rendered, which is very different. What we, Monsieur Dorsenne and I,
desire," he continued in a severe voice, "is this: Count Gorka has
gravely insulted Monsieur Chapron. Let me finish," he added upon a
simultaneous gesture on the part of Ardea and of Hafner. "Yes, sirs,
Monsieur Chapron, known to us all for his perfect courtesy, must have
been very gravely insulted, even to make the improper gesture of which
you just spoke. But it was agreed upon between these two gentlemen, for
reasons of delicacy which we had to accept--it was agreed, I say, that
the nature of the insult offered by Monsieur Gorka to Monsieur Chapron
should not be divulged.... We have the right, however, and I may add the
duty devolves upon us, to measure the gravity of that insult by the
excess of anger aroused in Monsieur Chapron.... I conclude from it that,
to be just, the plan of reconciliation, if we draw it up, should contain
reciprocal concessions. Count Gorka will retract his words and Monsieur
Chapron apologize for his hastiness."
"It is impossible," exclaimed the Prince; "Gorka will never accept that."
"You, then, wish to have them fight the duel?" groaned Hafner.
"And why not?" said Montfanon, exasperated. "It would be better than
for the one to nurse his insults and the other his blow."
"Well, sirs," replied the Baron, rising after the silence which followed
that imprudent whim of a man beside himself, "we will confer again with
our client. If you wish, we will resume this conversation tomorrow at
ten o'clock, say here or in any place convenient to you.... You will
excuse me, Marquis. Dorsenne has no doubt told you under what
circumstances--"
"Yes, he has told me," interrupted Montfanon, who again glanced at the
Prince, and in a manner so mournful that the latter felt himself blush
beneath the strange glance, at which, however, it was impossible to feel
angry. Dorsenne had only time to cut short all other explanations by
replying to Justus Hafner himself.
"Would you like the meeting at my house? We shall have more chance to
escape remarks."
"You have done well to change the place," said Montfanon, five minutes
later, on entering the carriage with his young friend.
They had descended the staircase without speaking, for the brave and
unreasonable Marquis regretted his strangely provoking attitude of the
moment before.
"What would you have?" he added. "The profaned palace, the insolent
luxury of that thief, the Prince who has sold his family, the Baron whose
part is so sinister. I could no longer contain myself! That Baron,
above all, with his directives! Words to repeat when one is German,
to a French soldier who fought in 1870, like those words of Monsieur de
Moltke! His terms, too, applied to honor and that abominable politeness
in which there is servility and insolence!.... Still, I am not satisfied
with myself. I am not at all satisfied."
There was in his voice so much good-nature, such evident remorse at not
having controlled himself in so grave a situation, that Dorsenne pressed
his hand instead of reproaching him, as he said:
"It will do to-morrow.... We will arrange all; it has only been
postponed."
"You say that to console me," said the Marquis, "but I know it was very
badly managed. And it is my fault! Perhaps we shall have no other
service to render our brave Chapron than to arrange a duel for him under
the most dangerous conditions. Ah, but I became inopportunely angry!....
But why the deuce did Gorka select such a second? It is
incomprehensible!.... Did you see what the cabalistic word gentleman
means to those rascals: Steal, cheat, assassinate, but have carriages
perfectly appointed, a magnificent mansion, well-served dinners, and fine
clothes!.... No, I have suffered too much! Ah, it is not right; and on
what a day, too? God! That the old man might die!".... he added, in a
voice so low that his companion did not hear his words.
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