Chapter XXIII: An Involuntary Aversion

On seeing M. de la Rochaigue thus reappear near the sofa where she had sat during her conversation with M. de Maillefort, the baroness exclaimed:

"What, monsieur, were you there?"

"Certainly, for suspecting that your interview with M. de Maillefort would prove exceedingly interesting as soon as you two were left alone together, I slipped into the little salon, and have been listening there behind the portieres close to you."

"You heard what that detestable marquis said, then?"

"Yes, madame, and I also noticed that you were so weak as to ask him to come again, instead of giving him plainly to understand that his presence here was no longer desired. You had a fine opportunity to do it, and you should have availed yourself of it."

"But, monsieur, is not the Marquis de Maillefort as dangerous in one place as another? He made me understand that very plainly; besides, one can not treat a man of M. de Maillefort's lineage and importance in a rude manner."

"What do you suppose would happen if you did?"

"This: the marquis would undoubtedly demand satisfaction of you for such an insult. Are you not aware that he has fought a number of duels, all of which resulted disastrously for his opponents, and have you not heard that only a few days ago he forced M. de Mornand to fight merely on account of an ill-timed jest in which the latter indulged?"

"But I, madame, am not as obliging and simple as M. de Mornand. I would not have fought."

"Then, M. de Maillefort would have made your life a burden by his sneers and ridicule, until you would have been compelled to hide yourself from very shame."

"But are there no laws to protect a man from such a monster? Ah, if I were in the Chamber of Peers such scandalous proceedings should not go unpunished! An honest man should not be at the mercy of the first cutthroat that happens to come along!" exclaimed the indignant baron. "But in heaven's name, what is the matter with him,--what does this damned marquis want, anyhow?"

"You must have very little penetration, monsieur, for he certainly talked with almost brutal frankness, it seemed to me. Others would have resorted to circumlocution and even falsehood, but M. de Maillefort?--no, 'You intend to marry off Mlle. de Beaumesnil,' he says. 'I intend to see in what manner and to whom you marry her, and if your choice does not please me I shall interfere.' This is what he had the audacity to say to me, and he is in a position to carry out his threat."

"Fortunately, Ernestine seems to have taken an intense dislike to this horrid hunchback, and Helena must tell her that he was the mortal enemy of the countess."

"What good will that do? Suppose we should find a party that suited us and Ernestine, isn't the marquis, by his sneers and sarcasms, quite capable of inspiring the innocent girl with an aversion for the very person we want her to marry? And it is not only here, in this house, that he can play us this shameful trick,--and many others that he is capable of concocting,--but he can do it anywhere and everywhere he meets Ernestine, for we cannot hide her. We shall be obliged to take her out into society."

"Is it this that you fear most? I should be of the same opinion, perhaps, if--"

"Do you suppose I know what I fear? I would a hundred times rather have some real danger to contend with, no matter how threatening it might be, for then I should at least know what the danger was, and perhaps contrive to escape it, while now the marquis will keep us in a state of perplexity that may cause us to commit a thousand blunders, and hamper us in every way. Consequently there is nothing for us to do but look the situation straight in the face and say to ourselves: 'Here is a man of wonderful discernment and diabolical cleverness, who sees, or will endeavour to see and know, all that we do, and who, unfortunately, has a thousand means of attaining his ends, while we have no means whatever of escaping his surveillance.'"

"I am more and more convinced that the opinion I expressed a short time ago is a just and correct one," said the baron, complacently.

"What opinion?"

"That the marquis is an abominable scoundrel."

"Good evening, monsieur," said Madame de la Rochaigue, wrathfully, starting towards the door.

"What, you are going like that when we are in such desperate straits, and without coming to any decision!"

"Decision about what?"

"Why, about what we shall do in the matter."

"I know one thing!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaigue, completely beside herself, and stamping her foot angrily, "this abominable hunchback has demoralised me completely, and you--you finish by utterly stupefying me with your asinine remarks."

And Madame de la Rochaigue flounced out of the room, slamming the door violently in the baron's very face.

During the conversation between Madame de la Rochaigue and M. de Maillefort, Helena had taken Mlle. de Beaumesnil back to her own room. As she was about to leave the young girl she said:

"Sleep well, my dear Ernestine, and pray to the Saviour that he will not allow the face of that frightful M. de Maillefort to trouble your dreams."

"I really don't know why it is, mademoiselle, but he almost terrifies me."

"The feeling is very natural," replied the devotee, gently; "more natural than you suppose, for if you knew--"

As Helena paused, the young girl said:

"You did not finish, mademoiselle."

"There are some things which it pains one to say against one's neighbour, even though he may deserve it," remarked the devotee, with a saintly air. "This M. de Maillefort--"

"Well, mademoiselle?"

"I am afraid of paining you, my dear Ernestine--"

"Go on, I beg of you, mademoiselle."

"Ah, well, as you insist, I am compelled to tell you that this Marquis de Maillefort has always been one of your mother's bitterest enemies."

"My mother's?" cried Mlle. de Beaumesnil, wonderingly.

Then she added, with touching naivete:

"Some one must have deceived you, mademoiselle. My mother could not have had any enemies."

In a tone of tender commiseration, Helena replied, shaking her head:

"My dear child, such artlessness does your heart credit; but, alas! the best and most inoffensive people are exposed to the animosity of the wicked. Have not the gentle lambs ravening wolves for enemies?"

"But how had my mother ever wronged M. de Maillefort, mademoiselle?" asked Ernestine, with tears in her eyes.

"Why, in no way. Just Heaven! one might as well say that an innocent dove would attack a tiger."

"Then what was the cause of M. de Maillefort's animosity?"

"Alas! my poor child, I cannot tell you that. It would be too revolting--too horrible," answered Helena, sighing heavily.

"Then I have good cause to loathe this man, and yet I blamed myself for yielding to my involuntary aversion."

"Ah, my dearest child, may you never have a less justifiable aversion," said the devotee, sanctimoniously, lifting her eyes heavenward.

Then she added:

"I must leave you, now, my dear Ernestine. Sleep sweetly. To-morrow morning, at nine o'clock, I will come for you to go to church."

"Good-bye until to-morrow, mademoiselle; but, alas! you leave me with sad thoughts,--my mother had an enemy."

"It is best to know the real character of the wicked, my dear Ernestine, for then one can at least guard against their evil doing. And now good-bye until to-morrow morning."

"Good night, mademoiselle."

So Mlle. de la Rochaigue departed, proud of the perfidious cunning with which she had aroused a cruel distrust of M. de Maillefort in Mlle. de Beaumesnil's heart.

Ernestine left alone, rang for her governess, who also acted as her personal attendant.

Madame Laine entered.

She was about forty years of age, with a somewhat insipid face, and a pleasant, though rather obsequious manner, in which there was a touch of servility that made it very different from the devotion of a faithful nurse, which is always instinct with the dignity of disinterested affection.

"Does mademoiselle wish to retire?" asked Madame Laine.

"No, my good Laine, not yet. Bring me my writing-desk, please."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

The desk having been brought from Ernestine's chamber, her governess said:

"There is something I wish to tell mademoiselle."

"What is it?"

"Madame has hired two other maids for mademoiselle, and--"

"I have told you that I require no other personal attendants than you and Therese."

"I know it, mademoiselle, and I said as much to madame, but she thinks you are not sufficiently well served."

"You satisfy me perfectly."

"But madame says these young women are to stay in case you should need them, and this suits all the better as madame dismissed her own maid recently, and these women are to attend her in the meantime."

"That is all very well," responded Ernestine, indifferently.

"Mademoiselle desires nothing?"

"No, I thank you."

"Does mademoiselle find herself comfortable here?"

"Very comfortable."

"The apartments are certainly superb, but there is nothing too good for mademoiselle. Every one says so."

"My good Laine, you may put out what I shall require for the night," said Ernestine, without paying any attention to the governess's remark. "I can undress without your assistance, but I would like you to wake me a little before eight to-morrow morning."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

Madame Laine turned as if to leave the room, but as Ernestine opened her desk to write, the governess paused, and said:

"I have a favour to ask of mademoiselle."

"What is it?"

"I should be very grateful to mademoiselle if she would have the goodness to spare me a couple of hours to-morrow, or the day after, to go and see a relative of mine, Madame Herbaut, who lives in the Batignolles."

"Very well, go to-morrow morning, while I am at church."

"I thank mademoiselle for her kindness."

"Good-night, my good Laine," said Ernestine, thus dismissing her governess, who seemed inclined to continue the conversation.

This interview gives a pretty correct idea of the relations that existed between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Madame Laine.

The latter had often endeavoured to establish herself on a more familiar footing with her young mistress, but at the very first effort in this direction Mlle. de Beaumesnil always put an end to the conversation, not haughtily nor curtly, but by giving some order in a kindly way.

After Madame Laine's departure, Ernestine remained lost in thought for some time; then, seating herself at the table, on which her desk had been placed, she opened it and took out a small book bound in Russia leather, the first leaves of which were already filled.

The history of this book was simple but touching.

On her departure for Italy, Ernestine had promised her mother to write every day a sort of diary of her journey. This promise the girl had kept until the sorrowful days that immediately followed her father's fatal accident, and the even more terrible days that followed the news of the Comtesse de Beaumesnil's death; and now that she had rallied a little from these crushing blows, Ernestine found a sort of pious consolation in continuing to write to her mother every day, keeping up the both pleasant and cruel illusion by continuing these confidential revelations.

The first part of this book contained copies of the letters Ernestine had written to her mother while that lady was living.

The second part, separated from the first by a black cross, contained the letters which the poor child had, alas! had no need to recopy.

Mlle. de Beaumesnil seated herself at the table, and, after she had wiped away the tears which the sight of this book always evoked, she wrote as follows:

"I have not written to you, my darling mamma, since my arrival at M. de la Rochaigue's house, because I wished to analyse my first impressions carefully.

"Besides, you know how peculiar I am, and how, whenever I go to a strange place now, I find myself almost dazed for a day or two by the change. It seems as if I must have time to become accustomed to the new objects by which I am surrounded, to recover my mental faculties.

"The apartments set aside for my exclusive use are so magnificent and so spacious that I felt lost in them yesterday, but to-day I am becoming more accustomed to them.

"Madame de la Rochaigue and her husband and sister have welcomed me as if I were their own child. They lavish every attention and kindness upon me, and if one could have any feeling save gratitude, for such a cordial reception, I should feel amazed that persons so much older than I am, should treat me with so much deference.

"M. de la Rochaigue, my guardian, is kindness itself. His wife, who quite spoils me by her tenderness, is of a very gay and lively disposition. Mlle. Helena, her sister-in-law, is the gentlest and most saintly person imaginable.

"You see, my dearest mother, that you need feel no anxiety concerning your poor Ernestine's lot. Surrounded by such devoted friends, she is as happy as she can be, now.

"My chief desire is to become better acquainted with M. de la Rochaigue and his family, for then they will doubtless treat me with less ceremony, and cease to pay me compliments which embarrass me greatly, but which they probably feel obliged to pay me in order to make me feel at ease.

"They are so kind that each person in turn seems to be racking his or her brain for the pleasantest and most complimentary thing they can say to me. By and by, I hope that they will see they do not need to flatter me to gain my affection. One would almost suppose from their manner that they were under the greatest obligations to me for being allowed to receive me into their household. This does not surprise me much, however, my dearest mother, for how often you have told me that refined people always seem grateful for the services they are able to render others.

"I have had some very painful moments to-day,--not by any fault of my guardian or his family, however.

"This morning, a gentleman (my notary, as I learned afterwards) was introduced to me by my guardian, who said:

"'My dear ward, I think it would be well for you to know the precise amount of your fortune, and this gentleman will now tell you.'

"Whereupon, the notary, opening a book he had brought with him, showed me the last page all covered with figures, and said:

"'Mademoiselle, from the exact'--he used a word here that I have forgotten--'your yearly income amounts to the sum of three million one hundred and twenty thousand francs, which gives you nearly eight thousand francs a day, so you are the richest heiress in France.'

"This, my poor dear mother, reminded me again of what, alas! I scarcely ever forget,--that I was an orphan, and alone in the world; and in spite of all my efforts to control my feelings, I wept bitterly."

Ernestine was obliged to stop writing. Her tears had burst forth afresh, for to this tender-hearted, artless child, this rich inheritance meant the loss of her mother and of her father.

Becoming calmer after a few moments, she resumed her pen, and continued:

"It is difficult for me to explain it, but on learning that I had eight thousand francs a day, as the notary said, I felt a great awe, not unmixed with fear.

"'So much money--just for myself! why is it?' I thought.

"It seemed to me unjust.

"What had I done to be so rich?

"And then those words which had made me weep, 'You are the richest heiress in France,' almost terrified me.

"Yes; I know not how to explain it, but the knowledge that I possessed this immense fortune made me feel strangely uneasy. It seemed to me that I must feel as people feel who have a great treasure, and who tremble at the thought of the dangers they will incur if any one tries to rob them of it.

"And yet, no; this comparison is not a just one, for I never cared very much for the money you and my father gave me each month to gratify my fancies.

"In fact, I seem unable to analyse my feelings when I think of my wealth, as they call it. It is strange and inexplicable, but perhaps I shall feel differently by and by.

"In the meantime, I am surrounded by the kindest and most devoted of relatives. What can I have to fear? It is pure childishness on my part, undoubtedly. But to whom can I tell everything, if not to you? M. de la Rochaigue and the other members of his household are wonderfully kind to me, but I shall never make confidants of them. You know I have always been very reserved to every one but you and my father; and I often reproach myself for not being more familiar with my good Laine, who has been with me several years. But anything like familiarity is impossible to me, though I am far from being proud."

Then alluding to the aversion she felt for M. de Maillefort, in consequence of Mlle. Helena's calumnies, Ernestine added:

"I was cruelly hurt this evening, but it was such a disgraceful thing that, out of respect to you, my dear mother, I will not write it, nor do I really believe that I should have the courage.

"Good night, my darling mamma. To-morrow and the day following, I am going to nine o'clock mass with Mlle. de la Rochaigue. She is so good and kind that I could not refuse. But my most fervent prayers, my dear mother, are those I offer up in solitude. To-morrow morning and other mornings, in the midst of the careless crowd, I shall pray for you, but it is when I am alone, as now, that my every thought and my very soul lifts itself to thee, and that I pray to thee as one prays to God--my beloved and sainted mother!"

After having replaced the book in the writing-desk, the key of which she wore always suspended around her neck, the orphan sought her couch, and slept much more calmly and peacefully now she had made these artless confessions to an--alas!--now immortal mother.