"He is--he is a butcher"s son," cried Joseph, suddenly. "I know it--the Prefect told me. His father is still alive--old Ratoneau--a wholesale butcher at Ma.r.s.eilles. He was one of the foremost among the Revolutionists there--a butcher, indeed. Oh, madame, Herve is right! But it is more than ridiculous--it is impossible. Why, the very name is enough! Ratoneau!"
Madame de Sainfoy hardly seemed to hear him. She put him on one side with the slightest movement of her hand.
"Next year, probably," she said, "General Ratoneau will be a Marshal of France and enn.o.bled. He will be the equal of all those other men who have already married into our best families. At this moment a friend of his, the Baron de Beauclair, formerly his equal, is an equerry to the Empress. General Ratoneau has only to do the Emperor"s work here, to--to pacify and reconcile the West, and his turn will come."
She gave herself credit for not repeating Ratoneau"s own words as to sweeping out the Chouans. Joseph de la Mariniere did not deserve such consideration, but she wished to be careful and politic.
"After all, do you not see how inconsistent we are?" she said to the company generally. "We take all the benefits of the Empire, we submit to a successful soldier, accept a new regime for ourselves, and refuse it for our children. Is it not unreasonable?"
"On the face of it, yes," said Urbain, speaking for the first time. "And there is nothing, they say, that pleases the Emperor so much as the marriage of his officers with young ladies of good family. I have no doubt at all, if my friend Herve could reconcile himself, that Mademoiselle Helene would further the fortunes of her family by such a marriage as this. General Ratoneau is a fine soldier, I believe. I agree with you, madame, he is handsome. He rubs our instincts a little the wrong way, but after all, this is not the time to be sensitive. As to Mademoiselle Helene herself, I am sure she is most dutiful. I could imagine marriages more obnoxious to her. She would soon reconcile herself to a husband chosen for her by all the authorities."
"Poor Helene!" sighed Madame de la Mariniere.
"Come, Urbain, you friend of liberty!" exclaimed Joseph. "You advise internal tyranny, it seems; what would you say to the external? If I were in my cousin"s place, I would wait for that before making such a sacrifice."
"What do you mean, Joseph?" said his brother.
"I mean that our dear Prefect has the fates of all our young daughters in his hands. He has only to report them to the Emperor, and a marriage to please His Majesty will be at once arranged. Is not that enough obedience? Cannot we wait for that necessity, instead of running beforehand to give a beautiful girl to the first brutal soldier who asks for her?"
And after that the argument waxed loud and strong. Monsieur Joseph was called upon for his authority, for particulars as to this new power given to the Prefects, which was hardly yet known, their own good Prefect being heartily ashamed of it. Herve de Sainfoy declared that it was stupid and intolerable, but also impracticable, and in this he and his Royalist cousin agreed. No one would bear it, they were sure; but they were also convinced that De Mauves would never make use of it.
Urbain shrugged his shoulders, and was of a different opinion. He thought the idea quite of a piece with many of Napoleon"s other administrative plans; it seemed to him far-reaching and clever, the foundation of a new Imperialist n.o.bility. Madame de Sainfoy, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes shining, applauded Urbain as he spoke. It seemed to her, as to him, common sense put into practice. If the foolish old families of France would not swallow and a.s.similate the new order of things, it must be forced down their throats. The Emperor, and no one else, had the power to do this. His resolute will had the task of making a new society, and it was useless to complain of his means. But, evidently, the way to the Emperor"s favour was not to wait for coercion, but to accept this fine opportunity of ranging one"s family definitely on his side. Georges an officer, Helene married to an officer, herself a lady-in-waiting to Marie Louise; thus everything would be arranged for floating down the great river of the Empire into the ocean of a new world. And immediate action seemed all the more advisable, if the Prefect"s false delicacy was likely to leave the Sainfoy family stranded on a reef of old-fashioned manners.
At last, when every one had ceased to talk at once and the clamour was a little stilled, Herve de Sainfoy stepped forward and made his wife a low bow.
"Madame," he said, "I have heard all your arguments, and my old-fashioned prejudices remain the same. I have made some sacrifices to keep our country and position, and may have to make more; but when you ask me to give my eldest daughter to a man who is not even a poor imitation of a gentleman, you ask too much. I will choose a husband for Helene myself, or she shall take the veil. That life, at least, has its distinction. Aunts, great-aunts, cousins, have chosen it before her. One of our best and most beautiful ancestors was a Carmelite nun."
Madame de la Mariniere clapped her hands gently. Herve smiled at her, and Madame de Sainfoy frowned.
"A convent! No, no!" cried Urbain, while Joseph muttered breathlessly, "But there is a better alternative, dear cousins!"
He flew out of the room. The rest of the council looked at each other, puzzled and smiling, except Madame de Sainfoy, whose irritation deepened. Who was this tiresome, old-fashioned little man, that he should interfere in her plans! and what _lubies_ might possess him now!
The curtains at the door, flung back by Joseph, had hardly settled once more into their places when he came back again, clutching Angelot by the arm.
Coming from the darkness, from the presence of Helene, Angelot was dazzled and slightly out of breath when his uncle dragged him into the salon. He had not had time to ask a question; he came utterly unprepared into the presence of the family, and the faces that received him were not encouraging. Three at least were flushed with anger or confusion; his father"s, his mother"s, Madame de Sainfoy"s. It was at her that he looked most intently; and he had never seen anything more unfriendly than the gleam of her eyes, the flash of her white teeth between lips suddenly drawn back like those of a fierce animal, while her flush faded, as Monsieur Joseph spoke, to a whiteness even more threatening.
He understood Helene"s words, "If she knew, she would kill me." No, this woman would not have much mercy on anything that crossed her will--and Helene was in her power.
Monsieur Joseph"s slight hands, like Angelot"s, were strong. The young fellow tried instinctively to wrench himself from his uncle"s grasp on his arm, but it only tightened.
"Here, dear friends, I bring you the alternative!" cried Monsieur Joseph, in his joyfullest tone. "Why not marry Mademoiselle Helene to the best and handsomest boy in Anjou--in France, for that matter--a boy we have all known from his cradle--who will have a good fortune, a prudent father"s only child--who would, no doubt, though I grieve to say it, serve under any flag you please for such a prize. Yes, I am safe in saying so, for--"
The romantic little gentleman was stopped in his wild career. Angelot, his eyes blazing, with a white face and teeth set as furiously as Madame de Sainfoy"s own, turned round upon him, seized him with his free hand by the other arm, and shook him with all his young strength, hissing out: "Will you be quiet, Uncle Joseph! Will you hold your tongue, if you please, and leave me to manage my own affairs."
"Come, come, what does all this mean?" cried Urbain, stepping forward.
"It means that my uncle is mad--mad--you know you are!" Angelot said in a choked voice.
Still holding Monsieur Joseph with a dog"s firm grip, he stared into his eyes and shook his head violently.
"What, ungrateful--" the little uncle tried to say, but Angelot"s face, his totally unexpected rage, seemed to suggest such unknown mysteries that the words died in his throat.
Suddenly released, he dropped into a chair and swore prodigiously under his breath, quite forgetting the presence of ladies in the unnatural, awful change that had come over his nephew. He stared at Angelot, who was indeed the centre of all eyes; his mother sitting upright in consternation; his father with angry brow and queerly smiling mouth; Herve de Sainfoy very grave, with elevated eyebrows; the Comtesse leaning back in her chair, hard, fierce, watchful, yet a shade less angry than before. If this was only a fancy of that ridiculous Joseph, it might not signify--yet who knew? She was ready to suspect any one, every one, even the young man"s father. The name of La Mariniere was odious to her.
Angelot drew himself very upright, folded his arms, and turned to face the family council.
"See what it is to have an uncle!" he said, and his voice, though clear enough, was not quite so proud and convincing as his att.i.tude. "He treats me like a child crying for the moon. If he could, he would fetch the moon out of the sky for me. But his kind pains are quite thrown away, mesdames et messieurs, for--I do not want the moon, any more than the moon wants me!"
He almost laughed; and only the quick change of colour in his young face showed that any feeling lay behind the words which sounded--in Monsieur Joseph"s ears at least--heartlessly playful.
Angelot stepped up to Madame de Sainfoy and respectfully kissed her hand. "Bonsoir, madame!"
"Bonsoir, Angelot."
She spoke coldly; she was still uneasy, still suspicious; she gave him a keen look, and his eyelids were not lifted to meet it. In another moment he was gone.
Then the others gathered round poor Monsieur Joseph, and tried to make him explain his wild behaviour. At first he stared at them vaguely, then in a few quick words took all the blame upon himself. Yes, it was an idea that had suddenly seized him. His love for Angelot, the beauty and sweetness of Helene, a dream of happiness for them both! A pastoral poem, in short! but it seemed that the young man was not worthy of his place as its hero.
"It seems, after all, I am more poetical than you," he said rather bitterly to Urbain.
"My dear," his brother said, "poetry at its best is the highest good sense. Now your idea, as the boy himself let us know, is moonstruck madness."
"Ah, moonstruck madness! Ah, the boy! Yes, yes," said Monsieur Joseph, dreamily, and he also took his leave.
Monsieur Urbain and his wife followed immediately. Angelot had not waited for them and the little hooded carriage, but had walked on across the valley in the cool damp darkness. They talked very seriously as they drove home, for once in entire agreement. When they reached the manor, their son had shut himself into his own room, and they did not disturb him.
"I hope you will soon keep your word, and find a suitable husband for Helene," Madame de Sainfoy said to her husband. "I am a little tired of the business."
"I don"t think there will be much difficulty. We must look further afield. Plenty of men of our own rank have accepted the Empire, and Helene is a match for a Prince, though our little cousin refuses her! I rather like that boy."
"Do you? I do not. Certainly he was candid--and he put an effectual stop to his uncle"s absurdities. He is really out of his mind, that man. I wish the Chouans joy of him."
"Poor Joseph! After all, he is an excellent creature. In these days, it is amusing to meet any one so wild and so romantic."
"I find it tiresome," said Adelade.
CHAPTER XI
HOW MONSIEUR URBAIN SMOKED A CIGAR
These days before the vintage were very peaceful at La Mariniere.
Monsieur and Madame Urbain were practical people, and idleness, as a rule, had a bad time of it with them; but September was a holiday month, and there was little work going on, except the hammering of barrels in the yard, and other preparations for busy October. September was usually the month when Angelot could shoot and ramble to his heart"s content, when Urbain had leisure to sit down with a book at other times than evening, when Anne, her poor people visited, nursed, comforted, her household in quiet old-fashioned order, could spend long hours alone praying and meditating in the little old church.
Lancilly had brought disturbance into September. It occupied Urbain"s thoughts and time, it seemed now to be throwing its net over Angelot.
Anne longed still more for peace and refuge under the low white arches of the church, in her visits to _le bon Dieu;_ and even here her thoughts distracted her.