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Phillipe de Massa >> Zibeline, v1
"Four thousand five hundred!" This was the final stroke. The last hand
had wiped out, by eight thousand points, the possessions of Landry's
adversary. The former losses of the unfortunate Marquis were now
augmented by one hundred and forty thousand francs. Henri became very
pale, but, summoning all his pride to meet the glances of the curious,
he arose, rang a bell, and called for a pen and a sheet of stamped paper.
Then, turning to Paul Landry, he said, calmly "Monsieur, I owe you four
hundred thousand francs. Debts of honor are payable within twenty-four
hours, but in order to realize this sum, I shall require more time.
How long a delay will you grant me?"
"As long as you wish, Monsieur."
"I thank you. I ask a month."
A waiter appeared, bringing the pen and paper.
"Oh, your word will be sufficient for me," said Landry.
"Pardon me!" said the Marquis. "One never knows what may happen. I
insist that you shall accept a formal acknowledgment of the debt."
And he wrote:
"I, the undersigned, acknowledge that I owe to Monsieur Paul Landry the
sum of four hundred thousand francs, which I promise to pay in thirty
days, counting from this date."
He dated, signed, and folded the paper, and handed it to Paul Landry.
Then, glancing at the clock, whose hands pointed to a quarter before
four, he said:
"Permit me to take leave of you, gentlemen. I have barely time to reach
Vincennes before roll-call."
He lighted a cigar, saluted the astonished assembly with perfect
coolness, slowly descended the stairs, and jumped into his carriage, the
chasseur of the restaurant holding open the door for him.
"To Vincennes!" he cried to the coachman; "and drive like the devil!"
CHAPTER V
A DESPERATE RESOLUTION
The chimneys and roofs of the tall houses along the boulevards stood out
sharp and clear in the light of the rising sun. Here and there squads of
street-cleaners appeared, and belated hucksters urged their horses toward
the markets; but except for these, the streets were deserted, and the
little coupe that carried Caesar and his misfortunes rolled rapidly
toward the Barriere du Trone.
With all the coach-windows lowered, in order to admit the fresh morning
air, the energetic nobleman, buffeted by ill-luck, suddenly raised his
head and steadily looked in the face the consequences of his defeat.
He, too, could say that all was lost save honor; and already, from the
depths of his virile soul, sprang the only resolution that seemed to him
worthy of himself.
When he entered his own rooms in order to dress, his mind was made up;
and although, during the military exercises that morning, his commands
were more abrupt than usual, no one would have suspected that his mind
was preoccupied by any unusual trouble.
He decided to call upon his superior officer that afternoon to request
from him authorization to seek an exchange for Africa. Then he went
quietly to breakfast at the pension of the officers of his own rank, who,
observing his calm demeanor, in contrast to their own, knew that he must
be unaware of the important news just published in the morning journals.
General de Lorencez, after an unsuccessful attack upon the walls of
Puebla, had been compelled to retreat toward Orizaba, and to intrench
there while waiting for reenforcements.
This military event awakened the liveliest discussions, and in the midst
of the repast a quartermaster entered to announce the reply to the
report, first presenting his open register to the senior lieutenant.
"Ah! By Jove, fellows! what luck!" cried that officer, joyously.
"What is it?" demanded the others in chorus.
"Listen to this!" And he read aloud: "'General Order: An expedition
corps, composed of two divisions of infantry, under the command of
General Forey, is in process of forming, in order to be sent to Mexico on
urgent business. The brigade of the advance guard will be composed of
the First Regiment of Zouaves and the Eighteenth Battalion of infantry.
As soon as these companies shall be prepared for war, this battalion will
proceed by the shortest route to Toulon; thence they will embark aboard
the Imperial on the twenty-sixth day of June next.'"
Arousing cheer drowned the end of the reading of this bulletin, the tenor
of which gave to Henri's aspiraitions an immediate and more advantageous
prospect immediate, because, as his company was the first to march, he
was assured of not remaining longer at the garrison; more advantageous,
because the dangers of a foreign expedition opened a much larger field
for his chances of promotion.
Consequently, less than a month remained to him in which to settle his
indebtedness. After the reading of the bulletin, he asked one of his
brother officers to take his place until evening, caught the first train
to town, and, alighting at the Bastille, went directly to the Hotel de
Montgeron, where he had temporary quarters whenever he chose to use them.
"Is the Duke at home?" he inquired of the Swiss.
Receiving an affirmative reply, he crossed the courtyard, and was soon
announced to his brother-in-law, the noble proprietor of La Sarthe,
deputy of the Legitimist opposition to the Corps Legislatif of the
Empire.
The Duc de Montgeron listened in silence to his relative's explanation
of his situation. When the recital was finished, without uttering a
syllable he opened a drawer, drew out a legal paper, and handed it to
Henri, saying:
"This is my marriage contract. Read it, and you will see that I have
had, from the head of my family, three hundred and fifteen thousand
livres income. I do not say this to you in order to contrast my riches
with your ruin, but only to prove to you that I was perfectly well able
to marry your sister even had she possessed no dot. That dot yields
seven hundred and fifteen thousand francs' income, at three per cent.
We were married under the law of community of goods, which greatly
simplifies matters when husband and wife have, as have Jeanne and myself,
but one heart and one way of looking at things. To consult her would be,
perhaps, to injure her. To-morrow I will sell the necessary stock, and
ere the end of the week Monsieur Durand, your notary and ours, shall hold
at your disposal the amount of the sum you lost last night."
The blood rose to the cheeks of the young officer.
"I--I" he stammered, pressing convulsively the hands of his brother-in-
law. "Shall I let you pay the ransom for my madness and folly? Shall I
a second time despoil my sister, already robbed by me of one half her
rightful share? I should die of shame! Or, rather--wait a moment!
Let us reverse our situations for an instant, and if you will swear to me
that, were you in my place, you would accept--Ah, you see! You hesitate
as much now as you hesitated little a moment ago in your simple and
cordial burst of generosity: Consequently, I refuse!"
"What do you mean to do, then?"
"To sell Prerolles immediately-to-day, if possible. This determination
troubles you because of the grief it will cause Jeanne. It will grieve
me, too. And the courage to tell this to her is the only effort to which
my strength is unequal. Only you can tell it in such a way as to soften
the blow--"
"I will try to do it," said the Duke.
"I thank you! As to the personal belongings and the family portraits,
their place is at Montgeron, is it not?"
"That is understood. Now, one word more, Henri."
"Speak!"
"Have you not another embarrassment to settle?"
"I have indeed, and the sooner the better. Unhappily--"
"You have not enough money," finished the Duke. "I have received this
morning twenty-five thousand francs' rent from my farms. Will you allow
me to lend them to you?"
"To be repaid from the price of the sale? Very willingly, this time."
And he placed in an envelope the notes handed him by his brother-in-law.
"This is the last will and testament of love," said the Marquis, as he
departed, to give the necessary instructions to his notary.
CHAPTER VI
THE FAREWELL
His debts were easily reckoned. He owed eight hundred thousand francs to
the Credit Foncier; four hundred thousand to Paul Landry; more than one
hundred thousand to various jewellers and shopkeepers; twenty-five
thousand to the Duc de Montgeron. It was necessary to sell the chateau
and the property at one million four hundred thousand francs, and the
posters advertising the sale must be displayed without delay.
Then he must say farewell to Fanny Dorville. Nothing should disturb a
sensible mind; the man who, with so much resolution, deprives himself of
his patrimonial estates should not meet less bravely the separation
imposed by necessity.
As soon as Henri appeared in Fanny's boudoir, she divined that her
presentiments of the previous night had not deceived her.
"You have lost heavily?" she asked.
"Very heavily," he replied, kissing her brow.
"And it was my fault!" she cried. "I brought you bad luck, and that
wretch of a Landry knew well what he was about when he made me cut the
cards that brought you misfortune!"
"No, no, my dear-listen! The only one in fault was I, who allowed
myself, through false pride, to be persuaded that I should not seem to
fear him."
"Fear him--a professional gambler, who lives one knows not how!
Nonsense! It is as if one should fight a duel with a fencing-master."
"What do you wish, my dear? The evil is done--and it is so great--"
"That you have not the means to pay the sum? Oh, but wait a moment."
And taking up a casket containing a superb collar of pearls, she said:
"This is worth fourteen thousand francs. You may well take them from me,
since it was you that gave them to me."
No doubt, she had read De Musset, and this action was perhaps a refection
of that of Marion, but the movement was sincere. Something of the stern
pride of this other Rolla was stirred; a sob swelled his bosom, and two
tears--those tears that rise to a soldier's eyes in the presence of
nobility and goodness--fell from his eyes upon the hair of the poor girl.
"I have not come to that yet," he said, after a short silence. "But we
must part--"
"You are about to marry?" she cried.
"Oh, no!"
"Ah, so much the better!"
In a few words he told her of his approaching departure, and said that he
must devote all his remaining time to the details of the mobilization of
troops.
"So--it is all over!" said Fanny, sadly. "But fear nothing! I have
courage, and even if I have the evil eye at play, I know of something
that brings success in war. Will you accept a little fetich from me?"
"Yes, but you persist in trying to give me something," he said, placing
on a table the sealed envelope he had brought.
"How good you are!" she murmured. "Now promise me one thing: let us
dine together once more. Not at the Provencaux, however. Oh, heavens!
no! At the Cafe Anglais--where we dined before the play the first time
we--"
The entrance of Heloise cut short the allusion to a memory of autumn.
"Ah, it is you," said Fanny nervously. "You come apropos."
"Is there a row in the family?" inquired Heloise.
"As if there could be!"
"What is it, then?"
"You see Henri, do you not?"
"Well, yes, I do, certainly. What then?"
"Then look at him long and well, for you will not see him again in many
a day. He is going to Mexico!"
"To exploit a mine?"
"Yes, Heloise," the officer replied, "a mine that will make the walls of
Puebla totter."
"In that case, good luck, my General!" said the duenna, presenting arms
with her umbrella.
Fanny could not repress a smile in spite of her tears. Her lover seized
this moment to withdraw from her arms and reach the stairs.
"And now, Marquis de Prerolles, go forth to battle!" cried the old
actress to him over the banisters, with the air of an artist who knows
her proper cue.
CHAPTER VII
THE VOW
Notwithstanding the desire expressed by his mistress, Henri firmly
decided not to repeat that farewell scene.
The matter that concerned him most was the wish not to depart without
having freed himself wholly from his debt to Paul Landry. Fortunately,
because of a kindly interest, as well as on account of the guaranty of
the Duc de Montgeron, a rich friend consented to advance the sum; so
that, one week before the day appointed for payment, the losing player
was able to withdraw his signature from the hands of his greedy creditor.
Relieved from this anxiety, Henri had asked, the night before the day set
for departure, for leave of absence for several hours, in order to visit
for the last time a spot very dear to him, upon whose walls placards now
hung, announcing the sale of the property to take place on the following
morning.
No one received warning of this visit in extremis save the steward, who
awaited his master before the gates of the chateau, the doors and windows
of which had been flung wide open.
At the appointed hour the visitor appeared at the end of the avenue,
advancing with a firm step between two hedges bordered with poplars,
behind which several brood-mares, standing knee-deep in the rich grass,
suckled their foal.
The threshold of the gate crossed, master and man skirted the lawn,
traversed the garden, laid out in the French fashion, and, side by side,
without exchanging a word, mounted the steps of the mansion. Entering
the main hall, the Marquis, whose heart was full of memories of his
childhood, stopped a long time to regard alternately the two suites of
apartments that joined the vestibule to the two opposite wings. Making a
sign to his companion not to follow him, Henri then entered the vast
gallery, wherein hung long rows of the portraits of his ancestors; and
there, baring his head before that of the Marshal of France whose name he
bore, he vowed simply, without excitement, and in a low tone, either to
vanquish the enemy or to add, after the manner of his forbears, a
glorious page to his family's history.
The object of his pilgrimage having thus been accomplished, the Marquis
ordered the steward to see that all the portraits were sent to the
Chateau de Montgeron; then, after pressing his hand in farewell, he
returned to the station by the road whence he had come, avoiding the
village in order to escape the curious eyes of the peasantry.
CHAPTER VIII
IN SEARCH OF GLORY
The next morning the 18th battalion of 'chasseurs', in dress uniform,
with knapsacks on their backs and fully armed, awaited in the Gare de
Lyon the moment to board the train destined to transport them to the
coast.
At a trumpet-call this movement was executed in silence, and in perfect
order; and only after all the men were installed did the functionaries
who kept the crowd in order take their own places in the carriages,
leaving a throng of relatives and friends jostling one another upon the
quay.
Fanny Dorville and her friend the duenna tried in vain to reach the
compartment wherein Henri had his place, already in marching order; the
presence of the Duc and the Duchesse de Montgeron prevented the two women
from approaching him. Nevertheless, at the moment when the train began
to move slowly out of the station, an employee found the means to slip
into the hands of the Marquis a small packet containing the little fetich
which his mistress had kept for him. It was a medallion of the Holy
Virgin, which had been blessed at Notre-Dame des-Victoires, and it was
attached to a long gold chain.
Thirty-six hours later, on the evening of the 26th of June, the battalion
embarked aboard the Imperial, which, with steam up, was due to leave the
Toulon roadstead at daybreak. At the moment of getting under weigh, the
officer in charge of the luggage, who was the last to leave the shore,
brought several despatches aboard the ship, and handed to Lieutenant de
Prerolles a telegram, which had been received the evening before at the
quay.
The Marquis opened it and read: "Chateau and lands sold for 1,450,000
francs. Everything paid, 1600 francs remain disposable."
"That is to say," thought the officer, sadly, "I have my pay and barely
three thousand francs' income!"
Leaning both elbows upon the taffrail, he gazed long at the shores of
France, which appeared to fly toward the horizon; then, brusquely turning
his eyes to the quarters filled with the strong figures and manly faces
of the young foot-soldiers of the 18th battalion, he said to himself that
among such men, under whatever skies or at whatever distance, one found
his country--glancing aloft where floated above his head the folds of his
flag.
CHAPTER IX
Twenty-three years after the events already recorded, on a cold afternoon
in February, the Bois de Boulogne appeared to be draped in a Siberian
mantle rarely seen at that season. A deep and clinging covering of snow
hid the ground, and the prolonged freezing of the lakes gave absolute
guaranty of their solidity.
A red sun, drowned in mist, threw a mild radiance over the landscape,
and many pedestrians stamped their feet around the borders of the lake
belonging to the Skaters' Club, and watched the hosts of pretty women
descending from their carriages, delighted at the opportunity afforded
them, by this return of winter, to engage in their favorite exercise.
Received on her arrival by one of the attendants posted at the entrance,
each of the fair skaters entered in turn a small building reserved for
ladies, whence she soon came forth in full skating array, ready to risk
herself on the ice, either alone or guided by the hand of some expert
cavalier.
Here and there, around the enclosure, large garden-seats, shaped like
sentry-boxes, were reserved for the mothers and sisters of the members of
the club, so that they could observe, from a comfortable shelter, the
evolutions of those in whom they were interested.
Within two of these nooks, side by side, sat the Duchesse de Montgeron,
president, and the Comtesse Desvanneaux, vice-president of the Charity
Orphan Asylum; the latter had come to look on at the first essay on the
ice of her daughter, Madame de Thomery; the former, to judge the skill of
her brother, General the Marquis de Prerolles, past-master in all
exercises of strength and skill.
At forty-five years of age, the young General had preserved the same
grace and slenderness that had distinguished him when he had first donned
the elegant tunic of an officer of chasseuys. His hair, cut rather
short, had become slightly gray on his temples, but his jaunty moustache
and well-trimmed beard were as yet innocent of a single silver thread.
The same energy shone in his eyes, the same sonority rang in his voice,
which had become slightly more brusque and authoritative from his long-
continued habit of command.
In a small round hat, with his hands in the pockets of an outing-jacket,
matching his knickerbockers in color, he strolled to and fro near his
sister, now encouraging Madame de Thomery, hesitating on the arm of her
instructor, now describing scientific flourishes on the ice, in rivalry
against the crosses dashed off by Madame de Lisieux and Madame de
Nointel--two other patronesses of the orphanage--the most renowned among
all the fashionable skaters. This sort of tourney naturally attracted
all eyes, and the idlers along the outer walks had climbed upon the
paling in order to gain a better view of the evolutions, when suddenly a
spectacle of another kind called their attention to the entrance-gate in
their rear.
Passing through the Porte Dauphine, and driven by a young woman enveloped
in furs, advanced swiftly, over the crisp snow, a light American sleigh,
to which was harnessed a magnificent trotter, whose head and shoulders
emerged, as from an aureole, through that flexible, circular ornament
which the Russians call the 'douga'.
Having passed the last turn of the path, the driver slackened her grasp,
and the horse stopped short before the entrance. His owner, throwing the
reins to a groom perched up behind, sprang lightly to the ground amid a
crowd of curious observers, whose interest was greatly enhanced by the
sight of the odd-looking vehicle.
The late-comer presented her card of invitation to the proper
functionary, and went across the enclosure toward the ladies' salon.
"Ah! there is Zibeline!" cried Madame Desvanneaux, with an affected air.
"Do you know her?" she inquired of the Duchesse de Montgeron.
"Not yet," the Duchess replied. "She did not arrive in Paris until the
end of spring, just at the time I was leaving town for the seashore. But
I know that she says her real name is Mademoiselle de Vermont, and that
she was born in Louisiana, of an old French family that emigrated to the
North, and recently became rich in the fur trade-from which circumstance
Madame de Nointel has wittily named her 'Zibeline.' I know also that she
is an orphan, that she has an enormous fortune, and has successively
refused, I believe, all pretenders who have thus far aspired to her
hand."
"Yes--gamblers, and fortune-hunters, in whose eyes her millions excuse
all her eccentricities."
"Do I understand that she has been presented to you?" asked the Duchess,
surprised.
"Well, yes-by the old Chevalier de Sainte-Foy, one of her so-called
cousins--rather distant, I fancy! But the independent airs of this young
lady, and her absolute lack of any respectable chaperon, have decided me
to break off any relations that might throw discredit on our patriarchal
house," Madame Desvanneaux replied volubly, as ready to cross herself as
if she had been speaking of the devil!
The Duchess could not repress a smile, knowing perfectly that her
interlocutor had been among the first to demand for her son the hand of
Mademoiselle de Vermont!
During this dialogue, the subject of it had had time to cast aside her
fur cloak, to fasten upon her slender, arched feet, clad in dainty, laced
boots, a pair of steel skates, with tangent blades, and without either
grooves or straps, and to dart out upon this miniature sheet of water
with the agility of a person accustomed to skating on the great lakes of
America.
She was a brunette, with crisply waving hair, a small head, well-set, and
deep yet brilliant eyes beneath arched and slightly meeting brows. Her
complexion was pale, and her little aquiline nose showed thin, dilating
nostrils. Her rosy lips, whose corners drooped slightly, revealed
dazzling teeth, and her whole physiognomy expressed an air of haughty
disdain, somewhat softened by her natural elegance.
Her cloth costume, which displayed to advantage her slender waist and
graceful bust, was of simple but elegant cut, and was adorned with superb
trimmings of black fox, which matched her toque and a little satin-lined
muff, which from time to time she raised to her cheek to ward off the
biting wind.
Perhaps her skirt was a shade too short, revealing in its undulations a
trifle too much of the dainty hose; but the revelation was so shapely it
would have been a pity to conceal it!
"Very bad form!" murmured Madame Desvanneaux.
"But one can not come to a place like this in a skirt with a train," was
the more charitable thought of the Duchess.
Meantime the aforesaid tournament went on in the centre of the sheet of
ice, and Zibeline, without mingling with the other skaters, contented
herself with skirting the borders of the lake, rapidly designing a chain
of pierced hearts on the smooth surface, an appropriate symbol of her own
superiority.
Annoyed to see himself eclipsed by a stranger, the General threw a
challenging glance in her direction, and, striking out vigorously in a
straight line, he sped swiftly toward the other end of the lake.
Stung to the quick by his glance, Mademoiselle de Vermont darted after
him, passed him halfway along the course, and, wheeling around with a
wide, outward curve, her body swaying low, she allowed him to pass before
her, maintaining an attitude which her antagonist might interpret as a
salute, courteous or ironic, as he chose.
By this time the crowd was gradually diminishing. The daylight was
waning, and a continued sound of closing gates announced the retreat of
the gay world toward Paris.
Zibeline alone, taking advantage of the free field, lingered a few
moments to execute some evolutions in the deepening twilight, looking
like the heroines in the old ballads, half-visible, through the mists, \
to the vivid imagination of the Scottish bards.
Henri de Prerolles had entered his sister's carriage, in company with
Madame Desvanneaux and Madame Thomery, and during the drive home, these
two gentle dames--for the daughter was worthy of the mother--did not fail
to sneer at the fair stranger, dilating particularly upon the impropriety
of the challenging salute she had given to the General, with whom she was
unacquainted.
"But my brother could hardly request his seconds to call upon her for
that!" laughingly said the Duchess who, it seemed, had decided to defend
the accused one in all attacks made upon her.
"Look! Here she comes! She is passing us again. One would think she
was deliberately trying to do it!" exclaimed Madame Desvanneaux, just
before their carriage reached the Arc de Triomphe.