The old marquis pointed to a chair, saying in a stern tone:
"Be seated, monsieur; what I have to say to you will take some moments, and deserves to be listened to with attention."
"I beg pardon, monsieur, but you see the disordered state of my dress; I am ashamed to appear before you in such disarray; allow me simply the necessary time to change, and I will at once return."
"No, monsieur! your dress is a matter of great consequence, in very truth! By Saint Jacques! what matters it to me whether your doublet is more or less fresh? It is not the dust with which your clothes are covered that will mar your escutcheon, but your disgraceful conduct!
That it is which sullies the honor of your name much more than the storm has injured your cloak! Be seated--I insist!"
Leodgard restrained with difficulty an impatient outburst; but he threw himself on a chair, and his father continued:
"I have remonstrated with you several times, monsieur, concerning your dissolute conduct; you have not listened to me, you have despised your father"s judicious counsel. To-day, when your misconduct has gone beyond all bounds, when your evil deeds--for they are no longer the escapades of a young man, but evil deeds, of which you are guilty----"
"Father----"
"Do not interrupt me!--To-day, when your evil deeds recognize no restraint, I no longer advise, I command you; and you will respect my commands, or this _lettre de cachet_ will deal with you for me.--Look, monsieur; you know that I do not indulge in empty threats; here is your pa.s.sport to the Bastille, sent me by Monsieur le Cardinal de Richelieu, who also is aware of all your misconduct and has given me permission to make use of this whenever I may think best, leaving in my hands the punishment of him who bears my name."
Leodgard could not help shuddering inwardly when he saw the _lettre de cachet_ which his father took from his desk, and he faltered in a tremulous voice:
"What have I done--what more than many young gentlemen of my age, to deserve to be treated so harshly?"
"Ah! you ask what you have done? That, I presume, is because you hope that I know only a part of it. Unhappily, monsieur, your conduct is too notorious, your vices make too much noise in the world; you are cited too often by all the wellborn debauchees, for the echo not to reach your father"s ears. Stealing wives from their husbands, young girls from their parents, pa.s.sing the night in wine shops and gambling h.e.l.ls, fighting with the king"s archers, with the watch, with citizens, incurring debts and not paying them, breaking shop windows and offering no other compensation than a sword thrust, binding yourself to Jews and usurers, thrashing your creditors when they presume to demand what you owe them, what they have been waiting for so long--such are your n.o.ble exploits, monsieur! a descendant of the Marvejols does not blush to conduct himself thus!--And yet, cast your eyes about you, look at these portraits which surround you, your ancestors who have left you a glorious name--are not you of their blood, you, who debase it? Ah! if they could come forth from their tombs,--and your excellent mother, who was so proud to have brought forth a descendant of our line,--it would be to crush you with their wrath!"
"Monsieur le marquis, allow me to say a word in my own defence.--My faults have been exaggerated. I have committed some faults, I admit; but they are not so serious as you seem to think."
"And your debts--will you say that they are a mere trifle? You owe five thousand pistoles at this moment, monsieur."
"I do not know, monsieur le marquis, whether you have also been told that I have been stripped clean by that miserable Giovanni, that Italian brigand, who terrorizes all Paris?"
"Yes, I have heard of that. But how did you allow yourself to be robbed by that man?"
"I venture to believe that my father has no doubt that if I was overcome it was not without a vigorous resistance on my part."
"Oh! I do justice to your courage; you would not be my son if you were a coward!"
"It was late at night, about a fortnight ago. I was returning home alone and was pa.s.sing through Rue Couture-Sainte-Catherine. Suddenly this Giovanni appeared before me, and demanded my purse as courteously as if he were inquiring for my health. The robber seemed to me such an original character that I talked with him a few minutes. But when he repeated his demand, I drew my sword. He had some sort of a short, broad weapon. Practised as I am in fighting, that devil of a man dealt me a thrust,--I do not know how to describe it,--and I was beaten. I felt the point of his sword against my breast; but he was content to take my purse, and disappeared as he had come, without giving me time to see which way he went."
"If I were lieutenant of police of this realm, that adroit thief would have been hanged before this.--However, monsieur, this Giovanni did not rob you of five thousand pistoles, I imagine?"
"No; but I had a considerable sum upon me----"
"Which you had won in some h.e.l.l, I doubt not.--But let us have done, for the subject of this interview is a painful one to both of us. Here, Leodgard, are papers containing a statement of the amount of your debts; here are your obligations to the Jews who are ruining you; here are your receipts for various sums lent you at exorbitant rates, with a view, doubtless, to my death, which does not come quickly enough to supply you with another fortune to squander."
"Ah! monsieur le marquis----"
"All these papers cost me fifty thousand livres; but I paid it, to save once more your honor, so seriously compromised."
A ray of joy lighted up Leodgard"s face; he stepped toward the old man, crying:
"What, father! you have deigned----"
The marquis made a gesture as if to forbid his son to approach, and continued with unabated austerity:
"Yes, monsieur, I have paid the money; but mark well what I say: long ago you squandered the last of the property which your mother left you.
I do not choose that you should have debts, but neither do I propose that the fortune of my ancestors, which enables me to maintain my rank becomingly, shall be the prey of harlots, gamblers, and rakes; so attend closely to what I say: if I learn that you have contracted any new debt, I shall instantly make use of this _lettre de cachet_, and send you to the Bastille; and when you are once there, it may well be that you will remain there for some time! This, monsieur, I will do--I swear it before the portraits of my ancestors! You know now whether I will keep my oath.--Mend your ways, Leodgard; make yourself worthy once more of the name you bear. You know that it is my dearest wish to marry you to Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin. I was her father"s comrade in arms; the idea that our children would be united some day made the baron"s heart beat fast with joy. Mademoiselle de Mongarcin is worthy of you, her family is on a par with ours; she has a large fortune and is one of the most beautiful women in France. Six months ago, she left the convent where she had completed her education, and took up her abode with her aunt; and she will soon be nineteen years old. What objection have you to urge against this alliance, Leodgard?"
"None, father. I agree that Mademoiselle de Mongarcin is very lovely, although I have seen her but rarely."
"What prevents you from paying court to her? Madame de Ravenelle, Valentine"s aunt, is aware of the baron"s wishes.--Cease to be a libertine, a rake, and she will give you the hand of this wealthy and n.o.ble heiress.--Well, monsieur! what have you to say?"
"Pardon me, monsieur le marquis--but--to marry--to put myself in chains already----"
"Already! A man cannot be happy too soon, monsieur; and you will be happy with a woman who is worthy of you. You will realize the difference between family joys and the orgies of debauchery. Furthermore, numerous suitors for Mademoiselle de Mongarcin"s hand have already entered the lists; if you do not come forward, do you suppose that she will send to beg for your homage? Hasten to present yourself, to disperse your rivals! This marriage must take place ere long.--I have often repented, myself, that I married so late in life! I was forty-three when I married your excellent mother. What was the result? that I was already old when you became a man; and that, instead of finding in me a friend, a companion, my son has seen in me only an old man, to whom he has never confided his secrets."
"Father----"
"You have heard me, Leodgard. It rests with you now to be happy and to regain your father"s affection. You know how you must conduct yourself for that.--Go; I will keep you no longer."
Leodgard bent his head respectfully before the old man, who responded with a slight nod which indicated no great amount of confidence as yet.
When he was out of range of his father"s eyes, Leodgard tore his hair, saying to himself:
"Not incur debts! why, I have no money!--But I must have some! For I promised Camilla that beautiful pearl necklace that she wants so much!
Now that I no longer owe anything, I can easily borrow.--But that _lettre de cachet_!--Ah! I know my father; he did not threaten me heedlessly; he would have me put in the Bastille, and I have no desire to go to that horrible prison!"
VI
CHAUDOREILLE"S G.o.dSON
Among the numerous habitues of the various bathing establishments might be noticed a tall, lean man, with a yellow complexion, like the description of the Knight of the Rueful Countenance. This personage had one of those elongated faces, with prominent cheek bones which call attention to the hollowness of the cheeks; also a long, pointed nose, a chin of the same type, an enormous mouth with a full complement of long teeth, each one of which resembled a tusk, and which terrified beyond words all the little children in whose presence this gentleman was pleased to smile; for he then appeared exactly as if he proposed to swallow the innocent creatures. A low forehead, yellow hair, and moustaches of the same color, the latter twisted at the ends so that they nearly joined the corners of the eyes--such was the Chevalier Pa.s.sedix, who claimed to be Chaudoreille"s G.o.dson.
We like to believe, dear reader, whichever your s.e.x, that you have known a certain _Barber of Paris_, whose adventures made some noise long ago; in that case, you may not have forgotten entirely his friend the Chevalier Chaudoreille, that vain, cowardly Gascon, gambler and shameless liar, who boasted so loudly of his long sword, which he called Roland, and who came to such a tragic end, falling from a roof, and running himself through in his fall with his faithful Roland, which he held in his hand to feel his way along the slippery roof on which he was walking.
The Chevalier Pa.s.sedix, then, claimed to be the G.o.dson of Chaudoreille, albeit the latter, in his negotiations with Touquet the barber, had never mentioned his G.o.dson. But there are many people who forget that they ever held a child over the baptismal font, or who do not choose to remember that they have been G.o.dparents, in order to evade the duties which that relation imposes on them.
However, Pa.s.sedix, himself a Gascon, resembled his G.o.dfather in many respects; like him, he was a glutton, a gambler, and a liar; like him, he sighed for every woman who looked at him, believing himself to be a very attractive gallant, whereas he might fittingly have served as a scarecrow in a community of women.
But there was one respect in which the resemblance between him and his G.o.dfather had no existence. Chaudoreille was always a coward, his battles were mere bl.u.s.ter, and his very death was tragic only because he was fleeing over the roofs from an imaginary danger.
Pa.s.sedix, on the contrary, was really brave; he would draw his sword on the most trivial pretext, would often take up the cudgels for a perfect stranger, and like Don Quixote, whom he resembled in his great height and his leanness, he would readily have fought against a windmill. But his courage was rarely fortunate, and whether because he handled Roland unskilfully,--for he possessed his G.o.dfather"s famous rapier,--or because his excessive ardor made him imprudent, or because he was too sure of victory, the chevalier was almost always beaten; indeed, he was very lucky when he came off with a few scratches and was not nailed to his bed to await the healing of his wounds.
On a certain beautiful warm spring morning, several young n.o.bles were chatting and laughing in Master Hugonnet"s shop. Some were waiting for their inamoratas to come from the baths, others had come thither in the hope of seeing Ambroisine, La Belle Baigneuse, and perhaps of being shaved by her. The majority were there because it was a favorite rendezvous of idlers, lady killers, and all the young dandies and rakes who were eager to learn the news, the spicy anecdotes of the court and city, to inquire concerning the scandalous intrigue of the moment, in order that they might make merry at the expense of the poor betrayed husband; for we must not forget that husbands were betrayed in the good old times no less than they are to-day.
As there were no cafes in those days for the idlers and gossips, the bathing establishments filled their place. As there were no newspapers to read, people were accustomed to collect to listen to the man who came there to tell some anecdote or some new occurrence. The gossips were welcome and held the floor. Many falsehoods were told, as will always be the case in such a.s.semblages; the man who lied with the most a.s.surance was almost always the one who was most eagerly listened to, and most loudly applauded by those at whom he laughed in his sleeve. To-day, we find _blagueurs_ who delight to hoodwink their auditors. The words have changed, but the characters are the same.