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Zibeline's sleigh, which had glided swiftly, and without hindrance, along
the unfrequented track used chiefly by equestrians, had indeed overtaken
the Duchess's carriage. Turning abruptly to the left, it entered the
open gateway belonging to one of the corner houses of the Rond-Point de
l'Etoile.
"Decidedly, the young lady is very fond of posing," said the General,
with a shrug, and, settling himself in his corner, he turned his thoughts
elsewhere.
Having deposited her two friends at their own door, the Duchess ordered
the coachman to take her home, and at the foot of the steps she said to
her brother:
"Will you dine with us to-night?"
"No, not to-night," he replied, "but we shall meet at the theatre."
And, crossing the court, he entered his little bachelor apartment, which
he had occupied from time to time since the days when he was only a sub-
lieutenant.
CHAPTER X
GENERAL DE PREROLLES
The sub-lieutenant had kept his word, and the progress of his career
deserves detailed mention.
He was a lieutenant at the taking of Puebla, where he was first to mount
in the assault of the Convent of Guadalupita. Captain of the Third
Zouaves after the siege of Oajaca, he had exercised, during the rest of
the expedition, command over a mounted company, whose duty was to
maintain communications between the various columns, continuing, at the
same time, their operations in the Michoacan.
This confidential mission, requiring as much power to take the initiative
as it demanded a cool head, gave the Marquis opportunity to execute, with
rapidity and decision, several master-strokes, which, in the following
circumstances, won for him the cross of the Legion of Honor.
The most audacious of the guerrillas who had devastated this fertile
country was a chief called Regulas. He pillaged the farms, stopped
railway trains, boldly demanding ransom from captives from the municipal
governments of large towns. He was continually, active, and always
inaccessible.
Warned by his scouts that the followers of this villain menaced the town
of Pazcuaro, Captain de Prerolles prepared himself eagerly to meet them.
He overtook them in a night march, and fell upon them unexpectedly, just
as they were holding up the diligence from Morelia to Guadalajara. His
plans had been so well laid that not a man escaped. What was the
surprise of the French officer to find, among the travellers, delivered
by himself from certain death, Paul Landry, the principal cause of his
ruin, who the chances of war now laid under obligations to him!
"This is my revenge," said the Captain, simply, to Landry, attempting to
avoid his thanks, and returning to him intact his luggage, of which the
chinacos had not had time to divide the contents.
Reconciled in Algiers with his regiment, Henri de Prerolles did not again
quit the province of Constantine except to serve in the army of the
Rhine, as chief of battalion in the line, until the promotions which
followed the declaration of war in 1870. Officer of the Legion of Honor
for his gallantry at Gravelotte and at St. Privat, and assigned for his
ability to the employ of the chief of corps, he had just been called upon
to assume command of his former battalion of chasseurs, when the
disastrous surrender of Metz left him a prisoner of war in the hands of
the Germans.
Profoundly affected by this disaster, but learning that the conflict
still continued, he refused to avail himself of the offer of comparative
freedom in the city, provided he would give his parole not to attempt to
escape. He was therefore conducted to a distant fortress near the
Russian frontier, and handed over to the captain of the landwehr, who
received instructions to keep a strict guard over him.
This officer belonged to the engineering corps, and directed, at the same
time, the work of repairs within the citadel, in charge of a civilian
contractor.
Taking into consideration the rank of his prisoner, the captain permitted
the Marquis to have with him his orderly, an Alsatian, who twice a day
brought from the inn his chief's repasts. This functionary had
permission also, from ten o'clock in the morning until sunset, to
promenade in the court under the eye of the sentinel on guard at the
entrance. At five o'clock in the evening, the officer of the landwehr
politely shut up his guest in his prison, double-locked the door, put the
key in his pocket, and appeared no more until the next morning.
The middle of November had arrived; heavy snows had already fallen, and
the prisoner amused himself by constructing fortifications of snow--
a work which his amiable jailer followed with a professional interest,
giving him advice regarding modifications proper to introduce in the
defense of certain places, himself putting a finger in the pie in support
of his demonstration.
This sort of amusement was followed so industriously that in a few days
a kind of rampart was erected in front of the casemate of the fortress,
behind which, by stooping a little, a man of ordinary height could easily
creep along unseen by the sentinel.
While pursuing his work of modelling in snow, the Marquis de Prerolles
had taken care to observe the goings and comings of the civilian
contractor, who, wearing a tall hat and attired in a black redingote,
departed regularly every day at half-past four, carrying a large
portfolio under his arm. To procure such a costume and similar
accessories for himself was easy, since the Marquis's orderly spoke the
language of the country; and to introduce them into the prison, hidden in
a basket of provisions, was not difficult to accomplish.
To execute all this required only four trips to and fro. At the end of
forty-eight hours, the necessary aids to escape were in the proper place,
hidden under the snow behind the bastion. More than this, the clever
Alsatian had slipped a topographical map of the surrounding country
between two of the plates in the basket. According to the scale, the
frontier was distant only about five leagues, across open country,
sparsely settled with occasional farms which would serve as resting-
places.
By that time, the plan of escape was drawn up. Upon the day fixed for his
flight, the Marquis assumed his disguise, rolled up his own uniform to
look like a man asleep in his bed, lying after the fashion of a sleeping
soldier; and pleading a slight illness as an excuse for not dining that
evening, and, not without emotion, curled himself up behind the snowy
intrenchment which his jailer himself had helped to fashion. That worthy
man, only too glad to be able to rejoin his 'liebe frau' a little earlier
than usual, peeped through the half-open door of the prisoner's room and
threw a glance at the little cot-bed.
"Good-night, Commander!" said the honest fellow, in a gentle voice.
Then he double-locked the door, according to custom, and disappeared
whistling a national air. A quarter of an hour later the contractor left
the place, and as soon as the functionary who had seen him depart was
relieved by another, the prisoner left his hiding-place, crossed the
drawbridge in his turn, simulating the gait of his twin, and, without any
hindrance, rejoined his orderly at the place agreed upon. The trick was
played!
A matter of twenty kilometres was a mere trifle for infantry troopers.
They walked as lightly as gymnasts, under a clear sky, through the
fields, guided by the lights in the farmhouses, and at nine o'clock,
having passed the frontier, they stumbled upon a post of Cossacks
ambuscaded behind a hedge!
Unfortunately, at that time the Franco-Russian alliance was still in
embryo, and an agreement between the two neighboring States interdicted
all passage to Frenchmen escaping from the hands of their conquerors.
The two deserters were therefore conducted to the major of the nearest
garrison, who alone had the right to question them.
As soon as they were in his presence, Henri could not restrain a start of
surprise, for he recognized Constantin Lenaieff, one of his adversaries
on the fatal night of the Freres-Provencaux.
"Who are you?" demanded the Major, brusquely.
"A dealer in Belgian cattle, purveyor to the German intendant," hazarded
the prisoner, who had his reply all prepared.
"You--nonsense! You are a French officer; that is plain enough to be
seen, in spite of your disguise."
The Major advanced a step in order to examine the prisoner more closely.
"Good heavens!" he muttered, "I can not be mistaken--"
He made a sign to his soldiers to retire, then, turning to Henri, he
said:
"You are the Marquis de Prerolles!" and he extended his hand cordially to
the former companion of his pleasures.
In a few words Henri explained to him the situation.
"My fate is in your hands," he concluded. "Decide it!"
"You are too good a player at this game not to win it," Lenaieff replied,
"and I am not a Paul Landry, to dispute it with you. Here is a letter of
safe-conduct made out in due form; write upon it any name you choose.
As for myself, I regard you absolutely as a Belgian citizen, and I shall
make no report of this occurrence. Only, let me warn you, as a matter of
prudence, you would do well not to linger in this territory, and if you
need money--"
"I thank you!" replied the nobleman, quickly, declining with his
customary proud courtesy. "But I never shall forget the service you have
rendered me!"
A few moments later, the two travellers drove away in a carriage toward
the nearest railway, in order to reenter France by way of Vienna and
Turin.
They passed the Austrian and Italian frontiers without difficulty; but at
the station at Modena a too-zealous detective of the French police,
struck with the Alsatian accent of the orderly, immediately decided that
they were two Prussian spies, and refused to allow them to proceed, since
they could show him no passports.
"Passports!" cried Henri de Prerolles, accompanying his exclamation with
the most Parisian oath that ever had reverberated from the Rue Laffitte
to the Madeleine.
"Here is my passport!" he added, drawing from his pocket his officer's
cross, which he had taken good care not to allow to become a souvenir in
the hands of his jailer. "And if that does not satisfy you, give me a
pen."
Suiting the action to the word, he seized a pen and wrote out the
following telegram:
"DEPUTY OF WAR, TOURS:
"Escaped from prisons of the enemy, I demand admittance to France,
and official duties suitable to my rank, that I may cooperate in the
national defence.
"DE PREROLLES, Commandant."
He handed the paper to the police agent, saying: "Do me the favor to
forward this despatch with the utmost expedition."
As soon as the agent had glanced at the message, he swept a profound
salute. "Pass on, Commandant," said he, in a tone of great respect.
Promoted to a higher rank, and appointed commander of a regiment of foot,
the Lieutenant-Colonel de Prerolles rejoined the army of Chanzy, which,
having known him a long time, assigned to him the duties of a brigadier-
general, and instructed him to cover his retreat from the Loire on the
Sarthe.
In the ensuing series of daily combats, the auxiliary General performed
all that his chief expected of him, from Orleans to the battle of Maus,
where, in the thick of the fight, a shell struck him in the breast. It
is necessary to say that on the evening before he had noticed that the
little medallion which had been given to him by Fanny Dorville, worn from
its chain by friction, had disappeared from his neck. Scoffing comrades
smiled at the coincidence; the more credulous looked grave.
The wound was serious, for, transported to the Chateau de Montgeron, a
few leagues distant, the Marquis was compelled to remain there six months
before he was in fit condition to rejoin his command. Toward the end of
his convalescence, in June, 1871, the brother and sister resolved to make
a pious pilgrimage to the cradle of their ancestors.
Exactly nine years had elapsed since the castle and lands had been sold
at auction and fallen into the possession of a company of speculators,
who had divided it and resold it to various purchasers. Only the farm of
Valpendant, with a house of ancient and vast construction, built in the
time of Philippe-Auguste, remained to an old tenant, with his
dependencies and his primitive methods of agriculture.
Leaving the train at the Beaumont tunnel, the two travellers made their
way along a road which crosses the high plateau that separates the forest
of Carnelle from the forest of the Ile-d'Adam, whence one can discern the
steeple of Prerolles rising above the banks of the Oise.
From this culminating point they beheld the chateau transformed into a
factory, the park cut up into countryseats, the fields turned into
market-gardens! With profound sadness the brother and the sister met
each other's glance, and their eyes filled with tears, as if they stood
before a tomb on All Souls' Day.
"No expiation is possible," said Henri to Jeanne, pressing her hand
convulsively. "I must go--I must move on forever and ever, like the
Wandering Jew."
Thanks to the influence of the Duke of Montgeron, whose faithful
constituents had sent him to the National Assembly, his brother-in-law
had been transferred to a regiment of zouaves, of which he became colonel
in 1875, whereupon he decided to remain in Africa during the rest of his
life.
But Tunis and Tonquin opened new horizons to him. Landing as a
brigadier-general at Haiphong, he was about to assume, at Bac-Ninh, his
third star, when the Minister of War, examining the brilliant record of
this officer who, since 1862, never had ceased his service to his
country, called him to take command of one of the infantry divisions of
the army of Paris, a place which he had occupied only a few months before
the events related in the preceding chapter.
CHAPTER XI
EUGENIE GONTIER
Few salons in Paris have so imposing an air as the foyer of the dramatic
artists of the Comedie Francaise, a rectangular room of fine proportions,
whose walls are adorned with portraits of great actors, representing the
principal illustrations of the plays that have been the glory of the
house Mademoiselle Duclos, by Largilliere; Fleury, by Gerard; Moliere
crowned, by Mignard; Baron, by De Troy, and many others.
At the left of the entrance, separated by a large, high mirror which
faced the fireplace, two other canvases, signed by Geffroy, represent the
foyer itself, in costumes of the classic repertoire, the greater part of
the eminent modern 'societaires', colleagues and contemporaries of the
great painter.
Between the windows, two pedestals, surmounted by busts of Mademoiselle
Clairon and Mademoiselle Dangeville, stood, one on each side of the great
regulator--made by Robin, clockmaker to the king--which dominated the
bust of Moliere--after Houdon--seeming to keep guard over all this
gathering of artistic glory.
Opposite this group, hanging above a large table of finely chiselled
iron, were two precious autographs under glass: a brevet of pension,
dated 1682, signed Louis and countersigned Colbert; an act of notary,
dated 1670, bearing the signature of Moliere, the master of the house.
Disposed about the room were sofas, armchairs, and tete-a-tete seats in
oak, covered with stamped green velvet.
Here, at the first representations of new plays, or at important revivals
of old ones, flocked literary notables and the regular frequenters of the
theatre, eager to compliment the performers; here, those favored
strangers who have the proper introduction, and who wish to see the place
at close range, are graciously conducted by the administrator-general or
by the officer for the week.
Here it was that the Marquis de Prerolles appeared in the evening after
his experience at the skating-pond. He had dressed, and had dined in
great haste at a restaurant near the theatre.
The posters announced a revival of 'Adrienne Lecouvreur', with
Mademoiselle Gontier in the principal role, in which she was to appear
for the first time.
Eugenie Gontier was, it was said, the natural daughter of a great foreign
lord, who had bequeathed to her a certain amount of money. Therefore,
she had chosen the theatrical life less from necessity than from
inclination.
She was distinguished in presence, a great favorite with the public,
and had a wide circle of friends, among whom a rich banker, the Baron
de Samoreau, greatly devoted to her, had made for her investments
sufficiently profitable to enable her to occupy a mansion of her own,
and to open a salon which became a favorite rendezvous with many persons
distinguished in artistic, financial, and even political circles. Talent
being the guaranty of good companionship, this salon became much
frequented, and General de Prerolles had become one of its most assiduous
visitors.
The first act had begun. Although the charming artist was not to appear
until the second act, she had already descended from her dressing-room,
and, finding herself alone in the greenroom, was putting a final touch to
her coiffure before the mirror when the General entered.
He kissed her hand gallantly, and both seated themselves in a retired
corner between the fireplace and the window.
"I thank you for coming so early," said Eugenie. "I wished very much to
see you to-night, in order to draw from your eyes a little of your
courage before I must face the footlights in a role so difficult and so
superb."
"The fire of the footlights is not that of the enemy--above all, for you,
who are so sure of winning the battle."
"Alas! does one ever know? Although at the last rehearsal Monsieur
Legouve assured me that all was perfect, look up there at that portrait
of Rachel, and judge for yourself whether I have not reason to tremble at
my audacity in attempting this role after such a predecessor."
"But you yourself caused this play to be revived," said Henri.
"I did it because of you," Eugenie replied.
"Of me?"
"Yes. Am I not your Adrienne, and is not Maurice de Saxe as intrepid as
you, and as prodigal as you have been? Was he not dispossessed of his
duchy of Courlande, as you were of your--"
A gesture from Henri prevented her from finishing the sentence.
"Pardon me!" said she. "I had forgotten how painful to you is any
reference to that matter. We will speak only of your present renown,
and of the current of mutual sympathy that attracts each of us toward the
other. For myself, that attraction began on the fourteenth of last July.
You had just arrived at Paris, and a morning journal, in mentioning the
troops, and the names of the generals who appeared at the review,
related, apropos of your military exploits, many exciting details of your
escape during the war. Do you recall the applause that greeted you when
you marched past the tribunes? I saw you then for the first time, but I
should have known you among a thousand! The next day--"
"The next day," Henri interrupted, "it was my turn to applaud you. I had
been deprived a long time of the pleasures of the theatre, of which I am
very fond, and I began by going to the Comedie Francaise, where you
played, that night, the role of Helene in 'Mademoiselle de la Seigliere.'
Do you remember?"
"Do I remember! I recognized you instantly, sitting in the third row in
the orchestra."
"I had never seen you until then," Henri continued, "but that sympathetic
current was soon established, from the moment you appeared until the end
of the second piece. As it is my opinion that any officer is
sufficiently a gentleman to have the right to love a girl of noble birth,
I fell readily under the spell in which she whom you represented echoed
my own sentiments. Bernard Stamply also had just returned from
captivity, and the more enamored of you he became the more I pleased
myself with fancying my own personality an incarnation of his, with less
presumption than would be necessary for me to imagine myself the hero of
which you spoke a moment ago. After the play, a friend brought me here,
presented me to you--"
"And the sympathetic current did the rest!" added Eugenie Gontier,
looking at him tenderly. "Since then you have consecrated to me a part
of whatever time is at your disposal, and I assure you that I never have
been so happy, nor have felt so flattered, in my life."
"Second act!" came the voice of the call-boy from the corridor.
"Will you return here after the fourth act?" said the actress, rising.
"I shall wish to know how you find me in the great scene, and whether
there is another princess de Bouillon among the audience--beware of her!"
"You know very well that there is not."
"Not yet, perhaps, but military men are so inconstant! By and by,
Maurice!" she murmured, with a smile.
"By and by, Adrienne!" Henri replied, kissing her hand.
He accompanied her to the steps that led to the stage, and, lounging
along the passage that ends at the head of the grand stairway, he entered
the theatre and hastened to his usual seat in the third row of the
orchestra.
CHAPTER XII
RIVAL BEAUTIES
It was Tuesday, the subscription night; the auditorium was as much the
more brilliant as the play was more interesting than on other nights.
In one of the proscenium boxes sat the Duchesse de Montgeron with the
Comtesse de Lisieux; in another the Vicomtesse de Nointel and Madame
Thomery. In the first box on the left Madame Desvanneaux was to be seen,
with her husband and her son, the youthful and recently rejected
pretender to the hand of Mademoiselle de Vermont.
Among the subscription seats in the orchestra sat the Baron de Samoreau,
the notary Durand, treasurer of the Industrial Orphan Asylum; the aide-
de-camp of General Lenaieff, beside his friend the Marquis de Prerolles.
One large box, the first proscenium loge on the right, was still
unoccupied when the curtain rose on the second act.
The liaison of Eugenie Gontier with the Marquis de Prerolles was not a
mystery; from the moment of her entrance upon the scene, it was evident
that she "played to him," to use a phrase in theatrical parlance. Thus,
after the recital of the combat undertaken in behalf of Adrienne by her
defender--a recital which she concluded in paraphrasing these two lines:
'Paraissez, Navarrois, Maures et Castilians,
Et tout ce que l'Espagne a produit de vaillants,'
many opera-glasses were directed toward the spectator to whom the actress
appeared to address herself, when suddenly a new object of interest
changed the circuit of observation. The door of the large, right-hand
box opened, and Zibeline appeared, accompanied by the Chevalier de
Sainte-Foy, an elderly gallant, carefully dressed and wearing many
decorations, and whose respectable tale of years could give no occasion
for malicious comment on his appearance in the role of 'cavalier
servente'. Having assisted his companion to remove her mantle,
he profited by the instant of time she took to settle her slightly
ruffled plumage before the mirror, to lay upon the railing of the box her
bouquet and her lorgnette. Then he took up a position behind the chair
she would occupy, ready to assist her when she might deign to sit down.
His whole manner suggested a chamberlain of the ancient court in the
service of a princess.
Mademoiselle de Vermont disliked bright colors, and wore on this occasion
a robe of black velvet, of which the 'decolletee' bodice set off the
whiteness of her shoulders and her neck, the latter ornamented with a
simple band of cherry-colored velvet, without jewels, as was suitable for
a young girl. Long suede gloves, buttoned to the elbow, outlined her
well-modelled arms, of which the upper part emerged, without sleeves,
from lace ruffles gathered in the form of epaulets.
The men admired her; the women sought some point to criticise, and had
the eyes of Madame Desvanneaux been able to throw deadly projectiles,
her powerful lorgnette would have become an instrument of death for the
object of her resentment.
"This morning," said the irreconcilable matron, "she showed us her
ankles; this evening she allows us to see the remainder."
"I should have been very well pleased, however--" murmured young
Desvanneaux, with regret.
"If you had married her, Victor," said his mother, "I should have taken
full charge of her wardrobe, and should have made some decided changes,
I assure you."
Perfectly indifferent to the general curiosity, Zibeline in her turn
calmly reviewed the audience. After exploring the boxes with her opera-
glass, she lowered it to examine the orchestra stalls, and, perceiving
the Marquis, she fixed her gaze upon him. Undoubtedly she knew the
reason for the particular attention which he paid to the stage, because,
until the end of the act, her glance was divided alternately between the
General and the actress.
As the curtain fell on this act the spectators turned their backs to the
footlights, and Lenaieff, indicating Zibeline to his friend, said in his
slightly Slavonic accent: