The rustling of a silk dress made him turn. The Marchioness de Fleury, in the most captivating spring attire, stood before them.
"Ah! here is Madame de Fleury, and she will tell you herself better than I can," said M. de Bois, apparently much relieved.
The marchioness saluted her guests with excessive cordiality, softly murmured her gratification at their visit, and added apologetically,--
"I must entreat your pardon for allowing you to wait; it was not in my power to be more punctual; a terrible accident--the first of the kind which has ever occurred to me--is my excuse. Do not imagine, my dear viscount," turning to Maurice with a fascinating smile, "that I had forgotten my appointment; but, at the Russian emba.s.sy, yesterday, I was prevailed upon to promise that I would be present at the senate to-day to hear the speech of a Vermont orator, a sort of Orson Demosthenes, who has gained great renown by his rude but stirring eloquence. We ladies have been promised admission (which is now and then granted) to the floor of the house, instead of being crammed into the close galleries.
It will be a brilliant occasion. I invited the Countess Orlowski to accompany me. If all had gone well I should have been ready to receive your visit before she came."
The brow of the countess smoothed a little as she answered, "I felt confident, madame, that there must have been _some_ explanation."
"Ah! I fear you are displeased with me," resumed Madame de Fleury, playfully. "But I will earn my pardon. You will be compelled to forgive me; M. de Fleury meets me at the capitol, and I will deliver this letter of the count"s into his hand, and make him promise, blindfold, to consent to any request that it may contain."
"Madame," returned the count, bowing to the ground, "I shall never be able to express my grat.i.tude. You can hardly form a conception of the favor you are conferring upon me. That letter is of the highest importance, and my indebtedness beggars all expression."
"To be frank with you, count," answered Madame de Fleury, "you owe me nothing. You are only indebted to the advocate you chose,--one whom I never refuse,--one to whom I feel under the deepest obligation, especially this morning,--one who is so modest that she can seldom be induced to ask me a favor, or to allow me to serve her. Thus, you see, it is but natural that I should seize with avidity upon this opportunity."
The count looked at his mother triumphantly; and, as the face of the marchioness was turned toward Bertha, he whispered, "Shall I not tell her that Madeleine is our niece?"
The countess seemed disposed to consent, for the words of Madame de Fleury had gratified as much as they astonished her.
The marchioness addressed the Countess de Gramont again. "I trust, madame, that you will allow me to waive ceremony, and take a liberty with you, since it is in the hope of being some service. I should like to reach the capitol before the oration commences; and, if this letter must be delivered to M. de Fleury immediately, my going early will enable me to have a few moments" conversation with him, which I probably shall not get after the orator rises. Will you excuse me, if I tear myself away? And will you give me the pleasure of your company to-morrow evening? To-morrow is my reception-day, and some of my friends honor me in the evening. I am _desolee_ at this apparent want of courtesy, but I am sure you see the necessity."
The countess bowed her permission to Madame de Fleury"s departure, and the count overwhelmed her with thanks. The countess would herself have taken leave, but anxiety to learn something further of Madeleine, caused her to linger.
The marchioness now addressed her valet, who was standing in the hall waiting orders.
"Patrick, when Madame Orlowski calls, beg her to pardon my preceding her to the capitol; say that I will reserve a seat by my side."
"Then the lady who just visited you was _not_ Madame Orlowski?" inquired the count, more puzzled than ever.
"No, indeed; she is worth a thousand Madame Orlowski"s!"
The count"s glance at his mother seemed again to ask her permission to allow him to announce that Madeleine was their relative.
"We felt certain that she was one of the magnates"--began the count.
The marchioness interrupted him.
"She is better than that; she has all the magnates of the land--that is the female magnates--at her feet. The foreign ladies swear by her, rave about her; and, as for the Americans, they are demented, and would gladly pave her path with gold,--that being their way of expressing appreciation. Madame Manesca pa.s.ses whole mornings with her,--Madame Poniatowski talks of no one else. She enchants every one, and offends no one. For myself, I have only one fault to find with her,--I owe her only one grudge; if it had not been for her aid, that impertinent little Mrs.
Gilmer would not have had such success in society. If I could succeed in making her close her doors against Mrs. Gilmer, what a satisfaction it would be! Then, and then only, should I be content!"
The count could restrain himself no longer.
"We are highly gratified to hear this, madame. It concerns, us more nearly than you are aware; the lady is not wholly a stranger to us; in fact, she--she"--
"Indeed? she was so little known in Paris that you were fortunate in finding her out. I appreciated her there, but I did not know how much actual credit was due to her, for she had not then risen to her present distinction. I confess she is the one person in America without whom I could not exist."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed the countess.
"And I cannot be grateful enough to her," continued the marchioness, "for her visit this morning, for she never goes out, or, so seldom, that I did not dare to expect, to even _hope_ for her presence; yet her conscientiousness made her come; she suspected that I was in difficulty, and hastened here."
"It is like her; she was always charming, and so thoughtful for others!"
observed the count, as complacently as though this were an opinion he had been in the habit of expressing for years.
"You may well say charming," responded Madame de Fleury; "and what knowledge she possesses of all the requirements, the most subtle refinements of good society! What polished manners she has! What choice language she uses! What poetical expression she gives to her sentiments!
I often forget myself when I am talking to her, and fancy that I am communicating with a person of the same standing as myself; and, without knowing what I am doing, I involuntarily treat her as an equal!"
"_An equal?_ Of course, most certainly!" answered the countess, aghast.
The amazement of the count, Maurice, and Bertha, sealed their lips.
"Her taste, her talent, her invention is something almost supernatural,"
continued the marchioness, enthusiastically; for, now that she was launched upon her favorite theme, she had forgotten her haste. "She sees at a glance all the good points of a figure; she knows how to bring them out strongly; she discovers by intuition what is lacking, and dexterously hides the defects. I have seen her convert the veriest dowdy into an elegant woman. And, when she gets a subject that pleases her, she perfectly revels in her art. Look at this dress for instance,--see by what delicate combinations it announces the spring."
The marchioness was struck with the consternation depicted in the countenances of her visitors.
Bertha was the only one who could command sufficient voice to falter out, "That dress, then"--
"It is her invention," replied the marchioness, triumphantly. "Any one would recognize it in a moment, as coming from the hands of Mademoiselle Melanie. Though she has such wonderful creative fertility, her style is unmistakable. There was never mantua-maker like her!"
"_A mantua-maker! a mantua-maker!_" exclaimed the countess and her son at once, in accents of disgust and indignation.
"Ah, I see you do not like to apply that epithet to her, and you are right. She should not be designated as a mantua-maker, but a great artist,--a true artist,--a fairy, who, with one touch of her wand, can metamorphose and beautify and amaze!"
At that moment, a servant announced that the Countess Orlowski waited in her carriage, and desired him to say that she feared she was late.
"You will excuse me then?" murmured the marchioness. "I must hasten to execute my mission for Mademoiselle Melanie, since it was she who so warmly solicited me to undertake this delicate little transaction, and I would not disappoint her for the world. Pray, do not forget to-morrow evening. _Au revoir._"
She floated out of the room, leaving the countess and her son speechless with rage and indignation.
Bertha and Maurice stood looking at each other, and then at M. de Bois, the only one who expressed no surprise, but seemed rather more gratified than moved when he beheld the countess sink back in her chair, and apply her bottle of sal volatile to her nose. The shock to her pride had been so terrible, that she appeared to be in danger of fainting.
CHAPTER XXIII.
n.o.bLE HANDS MADE n.o.bLER.
After the Marchioness de Fleury had departed, leaving her astonished guests in her drawing-room, M. de Bois was the first to break the silence.
"And you, Mademoiselle Bertha, are you also horrified at this rev--ev--evelation?" he asked.
"I?" answered Bertha, making an effort to collect herself. "No, I can never be horrified by any act of Madeleine"s, for she could never be guilty of an action that was unworthy. I am only so much astonished that I feel stunned and confused, just as Maurice does; see, how bewildered he looks!"
The countess had now recovered her voice, and said, in a tone trembling with indignation, "It is _infamous_!"