CHAPTER XXI.
"DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND."
Two days after this conversation with Herminie and Ernestine, M. de Maillefort, after two long and serious consultations with Gerald, wrote to the d.u.c.h.esse de Senneterre, asking her to see him that afternoon, and, his request being granted, the marquis presented himself at the appointed hour.
The marquis, warned by Gerald, was not surprised at the expression of bitter anger and chagrin on the face of Madame de Senneterre, for that very morning Madame de la Rochaigue had informed the d.u.c.h.ess that Mlle.
de Beaumesnil, though she liked and admired M. de Senneterre very much, had no intention of marrying him.
At the sight of the hunchback, Madame de Senneterre"s wrath blazed up still more fiercely, and she exclaimed, bitterly:
"You must confess, monsieur, that I am wonderfully generous!"
"In what way?"
"Am I not giving you the pleasure of coming to exult over the misery you have caused?"
"To what misery do you allude?"
"What misery?" exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess, wrathfully. "Is it not your fault that my son"s marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil is broken off?"
"My fault?"
"Oh, I am not your dupe, monsieur, and it is to a.s.sure you of that fact that I consented to the interview you had the audacity to ask of me. I did not want to miss this opportunity to tell you face to face how much I hate and despise you."
"So be it, madame. It affords just as good a topic of conversation as any other, and you excel in this kind of discourse, I believe."
"M. de Maillefort will oblige me by reserving his insulting irony for some other occasion," retorted Madame de Senneterre, haughtily. "He would also do well to remember that he has the honour of speaking to the d.u.c.h.esse de Senneterre."
"Madame la d.u.c.h.esse de Senneterre will do me the honour to treat me with the consideration due me," replied the hunchback, sternly; "if not, I shall govern my words exactly by Madame de Senneterre"s."
"Is that intended as a threat, monsieur?"
"As a lesson, madame."
"A lesson, to me?"
"And why not, may I ask? What, I who was your husband"s oldest and most trusted friend, I who love Gerald as a son, I who have a right to the respect and esteem of every one,--do you understand, madame? to the respect of every one,--I whose birth is at least equal to yours (it is well to remind you of that, as you attach such an absurd importance to such trifles), I am to be greeted with insulting words and eyes flashing with anger; and yet I am not to remind you of what you owe to me and what you owe to yourself?"
Like all vain and arrogant persons who are not accustomed to the slightest contradiction, Madame de Senneterre was at first surprised and irritated, but afterwards, awed by this stern and sensible language, her anger giving place to a profound despondency, she replied:
"Ah, monsieur, you should at least make some allowance for the despair a mother naturally feels on seeing her son ruined for ever."
"Ruined?"
"Yes, and through you."
"Will you have the goodness to prove that?"
"I have heard of the wonderful influence you have recently acquired over Mlle. de Beaumesnil. My son, too, has more confidence in you than he has in his mother, and if you had been favourably disposed, this marriage, which had been virtually decided upon, would not have been suddenly broken off for no apparent reason. Yes, there is a mystery about all this which you only can solve. And when I think that Gerald, with his ill.u.s.trious name, might be the richest landed proprietor in France, but for you, I am,--well, yes, I am,--the most wretched of women and mothers, and I positively weep with rage and chagrin, as you see, monsieur. You are satisfied now, are you not?"
For the proud d.u.c.h.esse de Senneterre was indeed weeping bitterly.
Had it not been for the deep interest he felt in Gerald and Herminie, M.
de Maillefort, not in the least affected by these absurd tears, would have turned his back on this haughty and avaricious woman, who navely believed herself the tenderest and most unfortunate of mothers simply because she had left no means untried to secure her son an immense fortune and because this scheme of hers had failed; but desiring above all things to ensure the successful termination of the undertaking entrusted to him, the marquis allowed this ebullition of grief, which did not touch him in the least, to pa.s.s unnoticed.
"The mystery you speak of is very simple, it seems to me. Gerald and Mlle. de Beaumesnil like and appreciate each other, but are not the least bit in love, that is all."
"What has love to do with the matter? Are there not plenty of marriages, besides those in royal families, made without love?"
"You must know that I have not requested an important interview with you merely to discuss a question which has been a matter of contention ever since the world began, viz., which is better, a marriage of convenience or a love match. We should never come to any agreement; besides, we have to deal with an accomplished fact: Gerald"s marriage with Mlle. de Beaumesnil is now an impossibility, and you may as well make the best of it. That young lady"s millions will never belong to your son, who, fine fellow that he is, cares nothing whatever about them."
"Yes, and thanks to such idiotic disinterestedness, or rather such shameful indifference to enhancing the splendour of their name, the scions of our most ill.u.s.trious houses are lapsing into a disgraceful mediocrity. It was for this very reason that my father and my husband--by neglecting the means of reestablishing the fortune of which that infamous revolution stripped us--left my son and my daughters almost penniless. In the present condition of affairs, I have little chance of marrying off my daughters, while Gerald, if he were rich, could help his sisters pecuniarily, and they would thus be able to secure eligible partis. And you wonder that I am overwhelmed with despair at the ruin of my plans,--at the destruction of my hope of securing for my son a fortune suited to his rank!"
"I suppose that you love Gerald after your fashion. It is not a very commendable fashion, still you do love him, I suppose."
"Yes, I do love him--I love him as I ought to love him, too."
"We will see about that."
"What do you mean, monsieur?"
"In the first place, it is my duty to tell you that Gerald is deeply in love, and that--"
Madame de Senneterre sprang up out of her armchair, fairly purple with anger, and, interrupting the hunchback, exclaimed, vehemently:
"It is outrageous! I have suspected it all along! The mystery is cleared up now. It is my son who has refused, for that little Beaumesnil was wild about him. I could see that at the ball, and it is you, you, monsieur, who have had a hand in this abominable intrigue. I will never see my son again. He has no heart, no soul!"
The marquis had antic.i.p.ated this explosion, and, without taking the slightest notice of it, continued:
"You interrupted me, madame. I was about to say that Mlle. de Beaumesnil, far from being in love with Gerald, entertains a very ardent affection for another man."
"The bold-faced hussy!" exclaimed the d.u.c.h.ess with such navete that the marquis could not help smiling slightly, in spite of his anxiety.
"I also feel it my duty to inform you, madame, that Gerald is in love with a young girl who is in every respect worthy of his love."
"I beg, monsieur, that you will not say another word to me on the subject," said Madame de Senneterre, feigning a calmness which the trembling of her voice grievously belied. "All is ended between my son and me. He can love whom he pleases and marry whom he pleases, as he is old enough to dispense with my consent. Let him drag his name through the mire if he likes. From this day I shall resume my maiden name, and I shall proclaim high and low and everywhere why I blush to bear a name so dishonoured and degraded. It is to be hoped that I shall, at least, find some consolation in my daughters."
To these senseless ravings the marquis replied, quietly and gravely:
"Your son understands his duty towards you very differently from what you understand yours towards him. He will not even make the formal request for parental consent on the part of a person who is of legal age, which is usual in such cases. He will both honour and respect your wishes to this extent: he will not marry without your consent."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Madame de Senneterre, with a sardonic laugh. "He really does me this honour?"
"And, in spite of the profound love she cherishes for him, the young lady he loves will consent to marry him only upon one condition: that you, madame, go and tell this young lady that you consent to her marriage with your son."
"This, M. de Maillefort, must be only a jest."