"Run, put on your hoods," said papa; "we will wait for you here."
Mr. and Mrs. Morphy were greatly disappointed to see us go, and the former declared that if these n.o.bles kept on taking away their custom they would have to shut up shop. Papa, to appease him, paid him double what he asked.
And the baron gave his arm to Suzanne, as the elder, while I followed, on papa"s. Madame du Clozel and her daughter met us at the street gate. The baroness, though not young, was still pretty, and so elegant, so majestic!
A few days later I could add, so good, so lovable!
Celeste du Clozel was eighteen. Her hair was black as ebony, and her eyes a beautiful blue. The young men of the village called her _Celeste la bien nommee_ [Celeste the well named]; and for all her beauty, fortune, and high position she was good and simple and always ready to oblige. She was engaged, we learned afterward, to the Chevalier de Blanc, the same who in 1803 was made post-commandant of Attakapas.[17] Olivier and Charles du Clozel turned everything to our entertainment, and it was soon decided that we should all go that same evening to the theater.
Hardly was the sun down when we shut ourselves into our rooms to begin the work of dressing. Celeste put herself at our service, a.s.suring us that she knew perfectly how to dress hair. The baroness asked us to let her lend us ornaments, ribbons--whatever we might need. We could see that she supposed two young girls who had never seen the great world, who came from a region where nearly all articles of luxury were wanting, could hardly have a choice wardrobe. We thanked them, a.s.suring Celeste that we had always cultivated the habit of dressing each other"s hair.
We put on our camayeu petticoats and our black velvet waists, adding gloves; and in our hair, sparkling with gold powder, we put, each of us, a bunch of the roses given us by Alix. We found ourselves charming, and hoped to create a sensation. But if the baroness was satisfied she showed no astonishment. Her hair, like her daughter"s, was powdered, and both wore gloves.
Suzanne on the arm of Olivier, I on Charles"s, Celeste beside her fiance, the grandparents in front, we entered the theater of St. Martinville, and in a moment more were the observed of all observers. The play was a vaudeville, of which I remember only the name, but rarely have I seen amateurs act so well: all the prominent parts were rendered by young men.
But if the French people are polite, amiable, and hospitable, we know that they are also very inquisitive. Suzanne was more annoyed than I can tell; yet we knew that our toilets were in excellent taste, even in that place full of ladies covered with costly jewels. When I asked Celeste how the merchants of St. Martinville could procure these costly goods, she explained that near by there was a place named the _b.u.t.te a la Rose_ that greatly shortened the way to market.[18] They were bringing almost everything from London, owing to the Revolution. Between the acts many persons came to greet Madame du Clozel. Oh, how I longed to see the friend of Alix! But I would not ask anything; I resolved to find her by the aid of my heart alone.
Presently, as by a magnetic power, my attention was drawn to a tall and beautiful young lady dressed in white satin, with no ornaments except a set of gold and sapphires, and for headdress a _resille_ the golden ta.s.sels of which touched her neck. Ah! how quickly I recognized those brown eyes faintly proud, that kind smile, that queenly bearing, that graceful step! I turned to Charles du Clozel, who sat beside me, and said:
"That is the Countess de la Houssaye, isn"t it?"
"Do you know her?"
"I see her for the first time; but--I guessed it."
Several times I saw her looking at me, and once she smiled. During the last two acts she came and shook hands with us, and, caressing our hair with her gloved hand, said her husband had seen papa"s letter; that it was from a dear friend, and that she came to ask Madame du Clozel to let her take us away with her. Against this the baroness cried out, and then the Countess Madelaine said to us:
"Well, you will come spend the day with me day after to-morrow, will you?
I shall invite only young people. May I come for you?"
Ah, that day! how I remember it!... Madame de la Houssaye was fully five or six years older than Madame Carpentier, for she was the mother of four boys, the eldest of whom was fully twelve.[19] Her house was, like Madame du Clozel"s, a single rez-de-chaussee surmounted by a mansard.... From the drawing-room she conducted us to a room in the rear of the house at the end of the veranda [galerie], where ... a low window let into a garden crossed and re-crossed with alleys of orange and jasmine. Several lofty magnolias filled the air with the fragrance of their great white flowers....
XIV.
"POOR LITTLE ALIX!"
Hardly had we made a few steps into the room when a young girl rose and advanced, supported on the arm of a young man slightly overdressed. His club and pigeon-wings were fastened with three or four pins of gold, and his white-powdered queue was wrapped with a black velvet ribbon shot with silver. The heat was so great that he had subst.i.tuted silk for velvet, and his dress-coat, breeches, and long vest were of pearl-gray silk, changing to silver, with large silver b.u.t.tons. On the lace frill of his embroidered shirt shone three large diamonds, on his cravat was another, and his fingers were covered with rings.[20] The young girl embraced us with ceremony, while her companion bowed profoundly. She could hardly have been over sixteen or seventeen. One could easily guess by her dress that the pretty creature was the slave of fashion.
"Madame du Rocher," said Charles du Clozel, throwing a wicked glance upon her.
"Madame!" I stammered.
"Impossible!" cried Suzanne.
"Don"t listen to him!" interrupted the young lady, striking Charles"s fingers with her fan. "He is a wretched falsifier. I am called Tonton de Blanc."
"The widow du Rocher!" cried Olivier, from the other side.
"Ah, this is too much!" she exclaimed. "If you don"t stop these ridiculous jokes at once I"ll make Neville call you out upon the field of battle." ...
But a little while afterward Celeste whispered in my ear that her brothers had said truly. At thirteen years Tonton, eldest daughter of Commandant Louis de Blanc and sister of Chevalier de Blanc, had been espoused to Dr. du Rocher, at least forty years older than she. He was rich, and two years later he died, leaving all his fortune to his widow.... One after another Madame de la Houssaye introduced to us at least twenty persons, the most of whose names, unfortunately, I have forgotten. I kept notes, but have mislaid them....
A few moments before dinner the countess re-appeared among us, followed by two servants in livery bearing salvers of fruit; and while we ate she seated herself at the harpsichord and played.
"Do you sing?" she asked me.
"A little, madame."
[The two sisters sang a song together.]
"Children," she cried, "tell me, I pray you, who taught you that duet?"
"A young French lady, one of our friends," replied Suzanne.
"But her name! What is her name?"
"Madame Carpentier."
The name meant nothing to her. She sighed, and asked us to sing on.... At dinner we met again my father and the count. After dinner the countess sent for me to come to her chamber while she was nursing her babe. After a few unimportant words she said:
"You have had your lessons from a good musician."
"Yes, madame, our friend plays beautifully on the harp."
"On the harp! And you say her name is--"
"Madame Joseph Carpentier."
"It is strange," said Madame de la Houssaye. "The words of your duet are by me, and the music by my friend the Viscomptesse Alix de Morainville.
All manner of things have happened in this terrible Revolution; I had for a moment the hope that she had found chance to emigrate and that you had met her. Do you know M. Carpentier?"
"Yes, madame; he was with her. He is--in fact--a laboring gardener."
"Oh! then there is no hope. I had the thought of a second marriage, but Alix de Morainville could never stoop so low. Poor, dear, innocent little Alix! She must be dead--at the hand of butchers, as her father and her husband are."
When we returned to the joyous company in the garden all wanted to speak at once. The countess imposed silence, and then Tonton informed us that a grand ball was proposed in our honor, to be given in the large dining-room of Mr. Morphy"s tavern, under the direction of Neville Declouet, the following Monday--that is, in four days.
Oh, that ball! I lay my pen on the table and my head in my hands and see the bright, pretty faces of young girls and richly clad cavaliers, and hear the echoes of that music so different from what we have to-day. Alas!
the larger part of that company are sleeping now in the cemetery of St.
Martinville.
Wherever you went, whoever you met, the ball was the subject of all conversation. All the costumes, masculine and feminine, were prepared in profound secrecy. Each one vowed to astonish, dazzle, surpa.s.s his neighbor. My father, forgetting the presents from Alix, gave us ever so much money and begged Madame du Clozel to oversee our toilets; but what was the astonishment of the dear baroness to see us buy only some vials of perfumery and two papers of pins. We paid ten dollars for each vial and fifteen for the pins!
Celeste invited us to see her costume the moment it reached her. It certainly did great honor to the dressmaker of St. Martinville. The dress was simply made, of very fine white muslin caught up _en paniers_ on a skirt of blue satin. Her beautiful black hair was to be fastened with a pearl comb, and to go between its riquettes she showed us two bunches of forget-me-nots as blue as her eyes. The extremely long-pointed waist of her dress was of the same color as the petticoat, was decollete, and on the front had a drapery of white muslin held in place by a bunch of forget-me-nots falling to the end of the point. In the whole village she could get no white gloves. She would have to let that pa.s.s and show her round white arms clasped with two large bracelets of pearls. She showed also a necklace and earrings of pearls.
Madame du Clozel, slave to the severe etiquette of that day, did not question us, but did go so far as to say in our presence that camayeu was never worn at night.
"We know that, madame," replied my sister, slightly hurt. We decided to show our dresses to our hostess. We arranged them on the bed. When the baroness and her daughter entered our chamber they stood stupefied. The baroness spoke first.
"Oh, the villains! How they have fooled us! These things are worthy of a queen. They are court costumes."