The Flower Girl of The Chateau d"Eau.
VOL.2.
by Charles Paul de k.o.c.k.
XXIV
HOW IT HAPPENED
"I had fallen madly in love with Mademoiselle Lucienne Courtenay; you know as well as I that her beauty and her charm attracted every eye. I paid my addresses to her, she welcomed my homage. In short, I believed that she loved me as dearly as I loved her, and we were married.
"During the first year of our union, I was happy; but I began at last to discover that my wife was not, as I thought, a model of affection and sensibility. Lucienne was coquettish, extremely coquettish; accustomed very early to being flattered because of her beauty, she must needs always be surrounded with homage, with compliments, with admirers! Dress was her princ.i.p.al, I might even say her only, occupation. Amiable and playful when she had her little court about her, my wife yawned and was bored when we were alone. If I spoke to her of my love, she would reply by inquiring about some new fashion. Ah! Monsieur de Merval, if coquetry amuses and fascinates in a mistress, it becomes very dangerous in a wife, especially if a man is jealous, and I was.
"The second year of my marriage pa.s.sed, and I had already ceased to be happy; my wife desired to pa.s.s her life in parties, dissipation, b.a.l.l.s; if I ventured to remonstrate, if I seemed disposed to decline an invitation, she would make a scene, she would call me a tyrant! You may imagine that I always ended by giving way; when one is in love, one is very weak, and I was still in love with my wife; I did everything to please her; I said to myself: "Her taste for dissipation will pa.s.s! With time she will become more sensible, and she will give a little more thought to her husband."
"My greatest grief at that time was that I was not a father; I prayed constantly that Lucienne might give me a pledge of her love, but my prayers were not granted. Ah! many times since then, monsieur, I have thanked G.o.d because He did not listen to me; for it is a great misfortune to have children when one cannot set them the example of domestic peace and virtue!"
Here Monsieur de Merval turned his head away, with a singular expression; but the count, paying no heed, continued:
"Now I must mention a person whom you knew, De Roncherolle, with whom I was very intimate. We had been close friends at school. Roncherolle was a very handsome gallant, and his unfailingly high spirits, his effervescent, although slightly satirical wit, fascinated almost everybody who knew him. We had lost sight of each other on leaving school; when I met him again, after nine or ten years, he was a man of fashion, famous for his gallant adventures, for his success with the ladies. He was still as jovial and clever as before; his tendency to mockery often involved him in difficulty, but, being as brave as he was sarcastic, he had already fought several duels in which he had borne himself most honorably. He seemed so glad to see me again, and manifested so much affection for me, that I did not hesitate to give him mine, and we soon became inseparable. But there was a great difference in our dispositions, in our characters. Roncherolle made fun of everything; he often laughed at or turned to ridicule the most venerated customs, the sentiments most worthy of respect, and we sometimes had lively altercations on that subject; but Roncherolle always brought them to a close by some jocose remark, by some repartee so original, that it was impossible to take anything seriously with him.
"When I married, Roncherolle naturally became one of the habitues of my house; you will be surprised perhaps to learn that with my jealous temperament, I introduced into my domestic circle a fascinating man, especially renowned for his conquests; but I believed Roncherolle to be my friend, my sincere friend; and despite his easy-going principles, he was the last man whom I deemed capable of betraying me! Alas! I believed in friendship, as I had believed in love; it is so pleasant to believe; but one suffers keenly in proportion when one is undeceived!
"I was destined to pay dear for my confidence ere long. Obliged to take a journey which would keep me away from Paris for a week, I desired to take my wife with me; she invented a thousand excuses for not accompanying me. I went away, urging Roncherolle to take care of Lucienne. I was blind, as you see; I had no suspicion of what others perhaps had already guessed.
"But when treachery surrounds us, it seems as if heaven itself undertakes to open our eyes; it arranges events in such a way as to reveal the truth to us; for I do not believe in chance, I believe only in Providence.
"As soon as I arrived at Havre, which was my destination, I found that the matter which I supposed was in litigation was settled, so that I was free the next day, and I started to return to Paris. I exulted in the thought of surprising my wife, whom I had not warned of my return. The train which took me back to Paris was delayed two hours on the way, and it was nearly midnight when I reached my house; the weather was bad, the night was very dark, but I distinguished a carriage which arrived almost at the same time as myself, and stopped a few steps from the porte cochere of my house. A secret presentiment or warning instantly took possession of my mind. Something told me that my wife was in that carriage, that she was not returning alone, and that I was on the point of discovering a shocking treachery! I cannot tell you how it was that that thought came to me so suddenly, or what was the source of the flash that suddenly gleamed in my eyes; but without hesitating a second, I quickened my pace and reached the carriage just as the driver opened the door to let the persons who were within alight. The size of the cab and the darkness enabled me to hide behind it and, unseen, to hear everything.
"Roncherolle alighted first, I recognized him instantly; then he helped my wife to alight; but imagine my feelings, when, instead of entering the house at once, I saw her walk a few steps away with Roncherolle, to whom she applied the sweetest and most affectionate names, and then made an appointment to meet him the next day. I did not need to hear any more; I could no longer doubt my misfortune. The man whom I had believed to be my sincere friend was my wife"s lover! I rushed like a thunderbolt between the traitorous pair, and talked to them as they deserved. My wife uttered a shriek, and ran to the door and rang the bell. I grasped Roncherolle"s arm, when he too tried to fly, and said to him: "You know now what I expect of you; the insult you have offered me can only be wiped out with your blood; if heaven is just, I shall kill you; if not, after betraying your friend, you will have the added happiness of making his wife a widow. To-morrow morning, at eight o"clock, I shall expect you at Porte Maillot; we need no seconds; luckily, I know that you are no coward; I rely upon you."
"Roncherolle disappeared without a word. I entered my house; I hesitated to appear before my wife, for I expected tears, entreaties, a scene of despair; but although my heart was torn, although it requires much courage to endure a blow which shatters in a moment the whole charm of one"s life, my course was already fully decided upon, and that is why I went to my wife"s apartment.
"Imagine my surprise, my stupefaction, when I found her occupied in preparing for the night, almost as tranquilly as if nothing had happened. However, at my approach, I saw that she trembled a little, she was afraid of me; that was the only sentiment that I inspired in her, that was her only remorse.
""Do not tremble, madame," I said to Lucienne, "I am too well-bred to adopt extreme measures with you, measures which your infamous conduct would render excusable, perhaps, but which after all would not wipe out the dishonor with which you have covered my name. That name I propose to abandon, and I order you also to cease to bear it; this is the last order that you will receive from me. To-morrow I go away, I leave you forever. You have your own fortune, I have mine, and thank heaven! our marriage contract was drawn up in such a way that each of us retains the enjoyment of his own property. I shall make no noise, no scandal; the world may interpret my conduct as it pleases; very likely it will put me in the wrong, that would not surprise me; but I shall get over it; it will be much harder for me, no doubt, to give up a happiness of which I had dreamed, of which I was still dreaming, and which I did not think was destined to last so short a time; but I will try, and heaven will help me."
"After saying this, I was silent for a few moments. I confess that I expected tears and some words of repentance. But I was mistaken again!
My wife uttered a few incoherent sentences, in which, however, I understood that she was trying to make me think that I was a visionary, that I had misunderstood her conversation with Roncherolle, and finally she ended by saying that she was very unhappy with me and that we should do well to separate. I left her, I went away with death in my heart, but without a glance at that woman who had not a single tear for the unhappiness she caused me!
"The next day at seven o"clock, I had finished all my preparations for departure and had written to my notary; I was preparing to start for the place where I had appointed to meet Roncherolle, when a messenger brought me a letter; I recognized the handwriting of the man whom I was going to meet, and I hastily broke the seal; that letter has remained engraven in my memory! Roncherolle"s missive was thus conceived:
""My dear De Brevanne"--he had the effrontery still to address me so!--"I am very sorry for all that has happened. You have taken the thing too seriously! I believed that you--as everybody else did; and this is one of those things which happen every day; why in the devil did you come back when you were not expected? From the days of the famous Sultan of the Thousand and One Nights, such surprises have always brought ill luck to those who make them. Now you want to fight with me.
I know perfectly well that you are ent.i.tled to, but it would be a stupendous piece of folly, which you would repent some day. Yes, if you should kill me, I will wager that later--much later probably, but at some time or other--the day would come when you would be sorry for it; for the pa.s.sions calm down, and when a man reflects coolly, he is often surprised to find that he has been terribly angry for a trifle. I propose then to spare you the regret of having killed me; and as for myself, I need not tell you that I shall never aim a pistol at you. And so, as our duel cannot take place, it is useless for you to go to a rendezvous where you will not find me. You know me well enough to be aware that it is not from cowardice that I decline this duel; I have proved that. But with you,--no, whatever you may do, I will not fight; and as you will hope doubtless to meet me somewhere, I give you notice that when you receive this letter I shall already have left Paris.
Adieu; I tell you again, I am sorry, very sorry for what I have done, as you are seriously offended, but if you should kill me ten times over, that would remedy nothing, for what is done is done. Adieu. He who no longer dares to call himself, but who will always be, your friend.""
* * * * *
At this point in Monsieur de Brevanne"s narrative, Monsieur de Merval could not help uttering an exclamation and interrupting the count.
"Upon my word," he said, "I do not believe that there ever was another letter like that. To write in such terms, under such circ.u.mstances!
However, it depicts the man, and I recognize Monsieur de Roncherolle in every line; he shows himself in that letter as he was in society!--Excuse me for interrupting you and pray go on."
"I could not believe that that letter which I had under my eyes meant what it said; ten times I read it, then I went to Roncherolle"s house; but he had not misled me, he had gone away at six o"clock that morning.
Judging from the preparations that he had made, it was probable that he had left Paris, but where had he gone? No one could tell me. I sought him in every direction, to no purpose; for several days I made the most minute search, I could not discover a trace of the man, who, after shamefully betraying my friendship, dared appeal to it to excuse himself for not giving me satisfaction for his outrage. So I was forced to go away without my revenge. Ah! Monsieur de Merval, I confess that that was one of the most cruel torments that I suffered! I left France and travelled for some time; but on receipt of certain intelligence, I returned suddenly to Paris a year after my departure; I was a.s.sured that De Roncherolle had returned, that he had been seen; but despite all my efforts, I could not succeed in finding him. I went away again and travelled a long while; years pa.s.sed, and time, that great restorer, at last restored the tranquillity which I had lost, without, however, restoring my happiness; for, from the sufferings that I had undergone, I had retained a deep-rooted misanthropy, and almost an aversion to mankind. I was excusable, was I not, monsieur? Betrayed in my dearest affections, at the age when the heart abandons itself to them with the least reserve, I no longer believed in anything that had formerly contributed to my happiness; and it is melancholy to say to oneself: "I have no friend; the man who presses my hand to-day will betray me to-morrow if any of his pa.s.sions may be gratified by so doing.""
"Oh! Monsieur de Brevanne, you must not include all mankind in the same anathema! Believe me, there are sincere sentiments, and there are men who understand friendship.--And so you have not seen Monsieur de Roncherolle since the day that you were to fight?"
"As I tell you, it was impossible for me to find him. Someone told me once that he had met him in the Pyrenees, travelling with a lady who called herself the Baronne de Grangeville; from the portrait that was given me of that lady, I had no doubt that it was my wife, and that thought prevented me from going to the Pyrenees; for I will admit that, while I desired earnestly to meet a false friend upon whom I hoped to be revenged, I had not the slightest desire to meet a woman whom I had loved so dearly and who had betrayed me so outrageously. Much time has pa.s.sed since then. A few years ago, I bought this country house, in which I am beginning to take some pleasure. Now, Monsieur de Merval, you know the cause of my separation from Madame de Brevanne--tell me frankly if the world guessed the truth, and if it judged justly in this matter?"
"Yes, I tell you again, you were not the one who was blamed; to be sure, there were, immediately after your rupture, some persons, ladies especially, who undertook to compa.s.sionate the Comtesse de Brevanne, and when they mentioned her, always referred to her as the unfortunate wife, the poor woman whose husband had abandoned her; but very soon those same persons were obliged to admit that they were wrong, for the connection between Madame de Grangeville and Monsieur de Roncherolle became so evident that it was impossible to refuse to believe in it. However, as there are women who are never willing to admit that they were altogether in the wrong, they undertook to excuse your wife by declaring that her intimacy with Roncherolle probably dated from the moment that you left her. But after that, events spoke so loud, the facts were so patent!"
"What"s that? what events, what facts?" said the count, gazing at Monsieur de Merval; the latter paused, seemed embarra.s.sed, and continued, in the tone of a person who feels that he has said too much:
"Why, I mean Madame de Grangeville"s departure from Paris, her travelling with Monsieur de Roncherolle; however, you know all that as well as I do, and I fancy that it cannot be very agreeable to you that I should expatiate farther upon these details in the life of a person who no longer bears your name."
"My dear Monsieur de Merval, as I told you before I began the story of my deplorable misadventure, only a short time ago I should not have had the courage to do it, or to listen calmly while you spoke of that woman whom I loved so well; but I have seen that woman again, here--I mean in this neighborhood--only a few days ago."
"What! you have seen----"
"The person who calls herself now the Baronne de Grangeville, yes. It was at the party given by my neighbors, the people whose house you were leaving when I met you this morning. They had invited me, and I, surmounting for once my aversion to society, attended the party. In fact, I may as well confess that I had not entirely lost the hope of finding Roncherolle; I have been positively a.s.sured that he is in Paris now, and as most of my neighbor"s guests were likely to come from Paris, I said to myself: "I will go back into society, and perhaps I shall meet there the man whom I have sought in vain so long." So I went to Monsieur Glumeau"s; they were giving theatricals in his woods, and I stood apart from the others, but where I could see everybody. Imagine my feelings when my eyes met those of a lady seated beside Madame Glumeau, who very quickly turned her head aside when her glance and mine met. That glance, brief as it was, impressed me--it instantly reminded me of Lucienne. I left my place, and standing farther away under the trees, it was easy for me to observe at my leisure that person"s features. I cannot describe my sensations; I could not, I did not wish to believe that it was my wife; I imagined her still young and pretty; in short, still as fascinating as at the time I parted from her."
"And you found a tremendous change! Remember that twenty years make great ravages, especially in women who were formerly very pretty; the ugly ones change much less, and it is that fact that consoles them for being ugly.--Did Madame de Grangeville recognize you?"
"I have every reason to think so; when a few drops of rain put the guests to flight, she alone remained in her seat, she seemed afraid to move; at last, however, she turned her head to see if I were still there; she saw me and her terror seemed to redouble; apparently I frightened her! As for myself, she aroused my compa.s.sion, nothing more!
I was about to go away, when several young men came in search of her and escorted her back to Monsieur Glumeau"s house, where, as you may imagine, I was careful not to follow her.--Now, Monsieur de Merval, explain to me, pray, how it happens that that meeting, which, by arousing all my memories, should have renewed my former griefs, has produced an absolutely contrary effect? Yes, since that moment my heart has been calmer, my thoughts have been much less gloomy; it seems to me that my mind views things in an entirely different aspect now!"
"The change seems to me very easy to explain, monsieur le comte. Before this meeting, your wife was still in your eyes the youthful beauty with whom you were in love and of whom you were jealous; your memories were the more bitter because they always recalled the treachery of a very fascinating person! To-day that same person appears before you with twenty years more upon her, and she is so changed that you have difficulty in recognizing her. You realized then that you were still in love with, and unhappy about, a person who no longer exists. For to you, who have pa.s.sed nearly twenty years without seeing your wife, her beauty has entirely vanished; whereas to those who have seen her constantly, she may still appear beautiful. As a man of much wit once said: "How do you expect that one person should notice that another grows old, when they see each other every day?"--Hence I conclude, Monsieur de Brevanne, that sentiments of regret are much less poignant when the object regretted has ceased to be what it once was."
"I believe that there is much truth in what you say. But have you seen Madame de Grangeville lately, Monsieur de Merval?"
"Yes, I too met her at the Glumeaus", in Paris, some time before the festivity in question. I had seen Madame de Grangeville more recently than you had, for I had caught sight of her occasionally at the play or at concerts; but I never ventured to speak to her; the false position which she occupied imposed that restraint upon me. At the Glumeaus", it was she who accosted me and attempted to renew our acquaintance; she even invited me to call upon her."
"And you accepted that invitation?"
"I should have been afraid of being discourteous if I failed to do so."
"And does she still make the same show, is she still as fashionable as ever? For she was a coquette in everything; she must have the most sumptuous furniture; the most trivial object in her apartments must have the stamp of the most refined elegance!"
Monsieur de Merval shook his head slightly as he replied:
"Oh, no! it"s not like that at all now; Madame de Grangeville"s household has undergone the same change as her person!"
"Is it possible that her tastes have changed too?"
"Oh, no! not her tastes! I presume that they are still the same; but it is her means that have changed; I believe that she is ruined!"