The whistles which Ernanton had heard were really his signal. Thus, when the young man reached the door, he found Dame Fournichon on the threshold waiting for her customers with a smile, which made her resemble a mythological G.o.ddess painted by a Flemish painter, and in her large white hands she held a golden crown, which another hand, whiter and more delicate, had slipped in, in pa.s.sing.
She stood before the door, so as to bar Ernanton"s pa.s.sage.
"What do you want?" said she to him.
"Were not three whistles given from one of those windows just now?"
"Yes."
"Well, they were to summon me."
"You?"
"Yes."
"On your honor?"
"As a gentleman, Dame Fournichon."
"Enter, then, monsieur, enter."
And happy at having a client after her own heart, fit for the "Rose-tree of love," the hostess conducted Ernanton up the stairs herself. A little door, vulgarly painted, gave access to a sort of antechamber, which led to a room, furnished, decorated, and carpeted with rather more luxury than might have been expected in this remote corner of Paris; but this was Madame Fournichon"s favorite room and she had exerted all her taste to embellish it.
When the young man entered the antechamber, he smelled a strong aromatic odor, the work, doubtless, of some susceptible person, who had thus tried to overcome the smell of cooking exhaled from the kitchen.
Ernanton, after opening the door, stopped for an instant to contemplate one of those elegant female figures which must always command attention, if not love. Reposing on cushions, enveloped in silk and velvet, this lady was occupied in burning in the candle the end of a little stick of aloes, over which she bent so as to inhale the full perfume. By the manner in which she threw the branch in the fire, and pulled her hood over her masked face, Ernanton perceived that she had heard him enter, but she did not turn.
"Madame," said the young man, "you sent for your humble servant--here he is."
"Ah! very well," said the lady; "sit down, I beg, M. Ernanton."
"Pardon, madame, but before anything I must thank you for the honor that you do me."
"Ah! that is civil, and you are right; but I presume you do not know whom you are thanking, M. de Carmainges."
"Madame, you have your face hidden by a mask and your hands by gloves; I cannot then recognize you--I can but guess."
"And you guess who I am?"
"Her whom my heart desires, whom my imagination paints, young, beautiful, powerful, and rich; too rich and too powerful for me to be able to believe that what has happened to me is real, and that I am not dreaming."
"Had you any trouble to enter here?" asked the lady, without replying directly to the words which had escaped from the full heart of Ernanton.
"No, madame; the admittance was easier than I could have thought."
"Yes, all is easy for a man; it is so different for a woman. What were you saying before, monsieur?" added she, carelessly, and pulling off her glove to show a beautiful hand, at once plump and taper.
"I said, madame, that without having seen your face, I know who you are, and without fear of making a mistake, may say that I love you."
"Then you are sure that I am her whom you expected to find here?"
"My heart tells me so."
"Then you know me?"
"Yes."
"Really! you, a provincial, only just-arrived, you already know the women of Paris?"
"In all Paris, madame, I know but one."
"And that is me?"
"I believe so."
"By what do you recognize me?"
"By your voice, your grace, and your beauty."
"My voice, perhaps; I cannot disguise it. My grace; I may appropriate the compliment; but as for my beauty, it is veiled."
"It was less so, madame, on the day when, to bring you into Paris, I held you so near to me that your breast touched my shoulders, and I felt your breath on my neck."
"Then, on the receipt of my letter, you guessed that it came from me?"
"Oh! no, madame, not for a moment; I believed I was the subject of some joke, or the victim of some error, and it is only during the last few minutes that, seeing you, touching you--" and he tried to take her hand, but she withdrew it.
"Enough!" said the lady; "the fact is, that I have committed a great folly."
"In what, madame?"
"In what? You say that you know me, and then ask."
"Oh! it is true, madame, that I am very insignificant and obscure near your highness."
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, pray be silent. Have you no sense?"
"What have I done?" cried Ernanton, frightened.
"You see me in a mask, and if I wear one, it is for disguise, and yet you call me your highness."
"Ah, pardon me, madame," said Ernanton, "but I believed in the discretion of these walls."
"It appears you are credulous."
"Alas! madame, I am in love."
"And you are convinced that I reciprocate this love?"