Chapter IV: A Novel Way of Making Acquaintances.--Baron Potoski

The two travellers were not far from Paris, when the conversation between them began to flag; at the outset, Monsieur Ménard expressed to Frédéric his very great pleasure in being in his company, and Frédéric thanked him; then they admired the view at several points. But soon the younger man's thoughts reverted to Madame Dernange and other disloyal fair ones, and he became pensive and silent; whereupon Monsieur Ménard turned his attention to the pâté with which he had taken care to supply himself, and entered upon a conversation with it, which he interrupted only to say a word or two to the bottle of madeira.

"I imagine that we shall have a delightful trip," said Frédéric, emerging from his reverie.

"I agree with you, monsieur le comte; we have everything requisite for it," replied Monsieur Ménard, with a smile, making haste to swallow what he had in his mouth. "If monsieur le comte would like to taste this pâté--it is delicious."

"No, thanks, my dear Ménard; I am not hungry yet."

"As monsieur le comte pleases."

"Oh! I beg you, no _monsieur le comte_ between ourselves; call me Frédéric, that is much better."

"But, monsieur le comte--when we are travelling--at public-houses--it is well that people should know that they have the honor----"

"Yes, of course; so that they can make us pay four times the usual prices. I tell you again that I want to avoid all those ceremonies which add nothing to the pleasure of a journey."

"You will at least allow me to call you Monsieur de Montreville; for monsieur le comte your father might be angry if he knew that you travelled incognito."

"By the way, how much money did he give you?"

"Eight thousand francs, monsieur."

"Eight thousand francs! that's none too much!"

"Oh! Monsieur de Montreville, surely it is enough, when we have in addition a comfortable carriage and good horses. We are not going to the world's end. And then, you know, your father said that we could ask him for more, in an emergency."

"True; besides, we're not going to do anything foolish."

"And it would be imprudent to carry a larger sum on a journey. We are going to Italy, and that country is infested with brigands; between Rome and Naples, especially, they say the highroads are very dangerous. When we get there, we must take every precaution."

Frédéric made no reply; he was thinking of Dubourg, and was surprised that he had heard nothing from him. They were already nine leagues from Paris, on a very fine road, where it was difficult to imagine any possible mishap.

Suddenly the loud cracking of a postilion's whip announced that there were other travellers behind them. Frédéric looked back, and saw a small berlin coming up at a gallop. The clatter drew rapidly nearer, indicating that the berlin was overtaking them and would soon pass them by. A cloud of dust enveloped them, but the road was so wide that there was no need for them to turn out. But just as they expected to see the berlin whirl by, it collided with their carriage; and the shock was so violent that the post chaise was overturned beside the ditch, into which Monsieur Ménard was thrown headlong, shrieking at the top of his voice.

The berlin stopped. The postilion of the chaise reviled the other postilion, calling him fool and blockhead and drunkard, for running into him on a road where three carriages could easily pass. The other postilion limited his reply to a sneering laugh, which inflamed his confrère's wrath. Frédéric, who was not injured, went to Monsieur Ménard, to ascertain what his condition was. He proved to be more frightened than hurt; he felt himself all over, straightened his wig, and kept repeating that the fall would certainly upset his digestion.

Meanwhile, the postilion of the berlin had dismounted; after exchanging a few words with his passenger, he, hat in hand, approached our travellers, who were still in the ditch, and, after apologizing for his awkwardness, said to them that Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir, requested permission to come in person to inquire for their welfare, and to offer them such assistance as was in his power.

When he heard the postilion declaim the name and titles of his passenger, Monsieur Ménard scrambled out of the ditch, and removed from under his waistcoat one end of his ruff, which his fall had rumpled.

"Tell your master that we appreciate his courtesy," said Frédéric; "but that it is unnecessary for him to put himself out; I think that the accident will have no serious results."

"But there's something broken in our chaise," said Monsieur Ménard; "and we might avail ourselves of Monsieur le Palatine Pota--Poto--Potiouski's offer, to reach the next village."

The tutor had not finished speaking, when the soi-disant Polish nobleman alighted from his berlin and walked toward them, with his hand on his hip, affecting a most dignified air and carriage. Frédéric looked up and recognized Dubourg; he was on the point of laughing outright, when his friend forestalled him by running toward him, exclaiming:

"I cannot be mistaken! What a fortunate meeting! It surely is Monsieur Frédéric de Montreville!"

And he threw his arms about Frédéric, who also feigned surprise and cried:

"What! why! it is Monsieur de--Monsieur du----"

"Baron Potoski!" whispered Dubourg.

"Monsieur le Baron Potoski!"

During this recognition, which took place on the edge of the ditch, Monsieur Ménard outdid himself in salutations, pulling Frédéric gently by his coat-tails the while, in order to lead him back to the highroad, which seemed to him a more suitable place for his introduction to the noble Pole.

At last, Dubourg turned to Ménard, and said, addressing Frédéric:

"Have I the honor of seeing monsieur le comte your father?" And he bestowed upon the tutor the most gracious and most dignified smile imaginable.

"No," said Frédéric; "but he has been a second father to me. Allow me to present Monsieur Ménard, my former tutor."

"Monsieur Ménard!" said Dubourg, assuming an expression of unfeigned admiration, and gazing at the tutor as one might gaze at Voltaire. "What! can it be that this is Monsieur Ménard? Peste! I have often heard of him; the _primus inter pares_ of tutors! How delighted I am to make his acquaintance! _Tandem felix_, Monsieur Ménard, since I know you."

Monsieur Ménard did not know where he was; this deluge of courtesies and flattery from the Palatine of Rava and Sandomir so confused and delighted him, that his profuse salutations would have landed him in the ditch a second time, had not Frédéric caught him opportunely.

Dubourg finally put an end to the poor man's embarrassment by taking his hand and pressing it hard.

"What a great honor you do me, monsieur le baron," he stammered.--"So you are acquainted with Baron Potoski?" he added, turning to Frédéric.

"Acquainted with him!" was the reply, accompanied by a smile; "why, we are close friends. Dear Dubourg!"

"What do you say? Dubourg?" cried Ménard.

"Yes," hastily interposed the pretended baron; "that is the name I went by at Paris, where I was compelled to maintain the strictest incognito, being intrusted by my government with a secret and very delicate mission."

"I understand, I understand," said Ménard.

"Continue to call me Dubourg, my dear Frédéric; that was my name when I first knew you, and it will always be dear to me."

While Ménard went to inspect the overturned vehicle, Frédéric said to Dubourg, in an undertone:

"The method you employed to join me was a little violent, do you know? You nearly killed poor Ménard and me."

"It's that blockhead of a postilion's fault: I told him to upset me as we passed you; but the rascal preferred to upset you. That annoys me the more, because I expected to get a seat in your carriage, whereas I must offer to take you in mine, which is a very different matter. Never mind: let me talk and act. I see already that it will be easy enough to pull the wool over this poor Ménard's eyes. But be ready to second me, and back up what I say, when it's necessary. Above all things, don't forget that I am Baron Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir. You nearly spoiled everything by calling me Dubourg; luckily, I found a way to straighten that out; but don't make any more such blunders, or I shall be obliged to travel without you, and I assure you I shall not go very far."

Ménard returned and announced that one of the axles of the chaise was broken, and that it could not be repaired before the next morning.

"Well, messieurs," said Dubourg, "you must do me the honor to ride in my carriage; we will stop at the first village and pass the night there, while the local blacksmith repairs your chaise."

This plan being adopted, they left the postilion to bring the vehicle to the village, and our three travellers entered the Polish baron's berlin. It was a wretched old affair, the lining patched and soiled, and so badly hung that the passengers were jolted terribly.

Frédéric could not restrain a smile as he stepped into the palatine's equipage; but Dubourg hastened to say to Monsieur Ménard, who took his place modestly on the front seat and had not as yet done more than glance furtively at his surroundings:

"This carriage is older than we are; it belonged to my grandfather. It was in this same carriage that he rescued Stanislas Leczinski, when he was pursued by his rival, Augustus, whose cause was espoused by the Czar, while Charles XII of Sweden was the protector of Stanislas.--But you know all that better than I do, Monsieur Ménard, for you are a scholar."

"Oh! monsieur le baron."

"To return to this carriage--all my family revere it as I do; it is a family carriage. When my father left Cracow, during a period of civil commotion, this modest berlin contained six millions in gold and jewels; it was the remnant of his fortune, with which he intended to live in retirement in Bretagne, where they have delicious milk and butter."

At this point, Frédéric, who had bitten his lips at the six millions, began to cough to overcome his desire to laugh, while Monsieur Ménard looked at the carriage with the utmost respect.

"You will appreciate, Monsieur Ménard," pursued Dubourg, wiping his forehead with a silk handkerchief, which he had thrust into his waistcoat to give himself the aspect of a foreigner, "you will appreciate that one becomes strongly attached to a carriage which recalls such honorable memories. I know that it is not modern, and that it might be hung better; twenty times, my steward has talked of having it repainted, and of having it newly lined inside, but I always refuse. This seat, which I now occupy, was once occupied by King Stanislas; that in which you sit, by a princess of Hungary; and I confess, Monsieur Ménard, that I am determined not to change this Utrecht velvet, which has had the honor of supporting those eminent persons."

"I share your feelings in that respect to the full, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, who, enchanted as he was to travel with two men of distinguished rank, was unable to contain himself when he was told that a princess of Hungary had once sat where he was sitting. "This carriage must be very dear to you; and I assure you, monsieur le baron, that it rides very nicely, and that I find it very comfortable----"

At that moment a vicious jolt threw Monsieur Ménard forward, almost into his pupil's lap; but he added, clinging to the door:

"_Ubi plura intent in carmine; non ego paucis offendar maculis._"

"_Vitam impendere vero_," rejoined Dubourg.

Frédéric looked out of the door, coughing harder than ever; while Monsieur Ménard said, with a bow:

"I never doubted it, monsieur le baron."

"As I am obliged to remain incognito," said Dubourg, "I have not brought any of my suite with me, and I confess that I am not inclined to complain; I detest all the pomp and parade and etiquette which are the accompaniments of high station. When I travel, I lay it all aside; I am the man of nature, and I play the part of a simple observer. But, by the way, my dear Frédéric, I haven't asked you yet where you are going; would it be presumptuous in me to inquire?"

"No, indeed, my friend; I am leaving Paris because I found there only coquettish or heartless women, who do not understand my way of loving."

"Well, my dear fellow, the trouble is that your way of loving is no longer fashionable! However, this is mere amorous petulance, I see; you are still a little romantic, a little sentimental.--We must cure Frédéric of all such nonsense, eh, Monsieur Ménard?"

"That doesn't come within my functions, monsieur le baron; besides, we must overlook a little something; Seneca says, you know: _Non est magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiæ._"

"That is very true," Dubourg replied; "the greatest men have had their weak points. Alexander drank too much; Antiochus dressed as Bacchus to please Cleopatra; Æneas consulted the Cumæan sibyl; the Emperor Maximilian died from eating too much melon. So it's not at all surprising that Frédéric should have a too sensitive heart."

Monsieur Ménard bowed to monsieur le baron, who had given him a small specimen of his erudition; which added not a little to the respect he had already conceived for him.

"I have no definite plan," said Frédéric; "I intend, however, to visit the countries which recall interesting events, or which have given birth to illustrious men. One loves to tread the ground from which the genius sprang that has outlived so many generations. In all that surrounds us, we fancy that we recognize the great man who, by his writings, his feats of arms, or his virtues, made his birthplace famous. In a word, my friend, we are going, first of all, to Italy."

"What! can it be? Why, my own purpose, like yours, is to see a little of the world, in order to add some new light to my poor stock of knowledge. What a delightful idea! Suppose we make the journey together?"

"Gladly, my dear baron! it will be most agreeable to me, I assure you."

"Upon my honor, I am grateful to the chance that led to our meeting! What an unexpected pleasure to travel with my friend the Comte de Montreville and the learned Monsieur Ménard, to compare our reflections concerning the places we visit, to be enlightened by the observations, the friendship, and the learning of so distinguished a teacher!"

Ménard outdid himself in reverences, and began to express his thanks; but Dubourg continued earnestly, giving him no time to reply:

"What a delight to visit ancient Rome with you--and magnificent Genoa! to climb with Monsieur Ménard to the summit of Vesuvius, and even to go down into the crater, if there is no danger! How pleasant to view, in a friend's company, the tomb of Virgil and the Grotto of the Dog, and to ascend, with a profound scholar, the Tarpeian rock! What pleasures await us in Switzerland, the home of William Tell! that cradle of liberty, whose morals have retained all their purity amid revolutionary tempests! There we shall receive the most touching hospitality in every village; we shall eat cheese there, Monsieur Ménard--oh! such cheese! I don't undertake to say, however, that it's as good as the cheese in Bretagne, for there's nothing like that; a charming country, Bretagne, studded with woods, fields, and rich pastures. Ah! what fine cows they have there, Monsieur Ménard!"

Frédéric nudged Dubourg, to make him leave Bretagne, whither he constantly returned with the affection of a native.

"In Switzerland," he continued, "one often eats cheeses fifteen or twenty years old; the excellent Helvetians know the secret of keeping them for an indefinite time."

"They must be even better than our roquefort," said Ménard, who felt sure of his ground when eating was the subject of conversation.

"Oh! I promise you they are; compared with the old Swiss cheeses, our roquefort is no better than neufchâtel. However, Monsieur Ménard, if you travel with me, I shall hope to give you cheese to eat more than once."

"Ah! monsieur le baron!"

"We will visit the glaciers, we will ascend the Saint-Gothard, and the Rigi, which you have to climb on all fours. What magnificent views we shall have! And when we go down into the canton of Les Grisons, we will botanize. Monsieur Ménard will gather herbs. We will watch the Swiss maidens glean; they wear very short skirts--and we shall see some fine sights!"

"Well, my dear master, what do you think of our plan?" queried Frédéric. The former tutor was enchanted with it: to travel with a man of such high rank, and so learned and agreeable, as Baron Potoski, seemed to him great good fortune; and although the hard cushions and the jolting of the berlin made him black and blue in spots, he felt brave enough to travel a thousand leagues in a carriage which had held King Stanislas, and in a seat which a princess of Hungary had occupied.

"Most certainly I see no reason why we should not travel with monsieur le baron," he said; "and at the first post-office I will write to monsieur your father and tell him of our fortunate meeting; he cannot fail to approve our plan."

"No, no!" cried Dubourg; "on the contrary, you must not write a single word to monsieur le comte. As I have told you, I am travelling incognito; I don't want anybody to know where I am. My government desires to appoint me ambassador to Turkey, but I am not at all desirous of that distinction. Monsieur le comte might inadvertently let the cat out of the bag, and all France would soon know my whereabouts; it will be much better not to say anything."

"I agree with you," said Frédéric. "What's the use of saying anything about it to my father? He left me free to go wherever I please, and asked Monsieur Ménard to go with me as a friend, not as a mentor. Surely, my father would be exceedingly pleased to know that I am travelling with monsieur le baron; but in his delight at learning that I am in such company, he would undoubtedly betray your incognito, and you would be obliged to leave us."

"Yes, I understand," said Ménard; "and yet--if----"

Dubourg, seeing that the tutor still retained some scruples, made haste to produce his horn snuff-box, which he offered to Frédéric, looking at him with a meaning expression.

"Do you recognize this, my dear Frédéric? it's the one I showed you at Paris."

"Yes, I recognize it perfectly," said Frédéric, with no idea of Dubourg's purpose; while Monsieur Ménard glanced at the snuff-box and waited impatiently for the baron to explain himself.

"Ah! it's a very precious object in my eyes!" said Dubourg, taking a pinch of snuff. "You have no suspicion, Monsieur Ménard, to whom this modest snuff-box belonged?"

"No, monsieur le baron."

"Modest as it is, I would not exchange it for one of solid gold. It was the King of Prussia's snuff-box, Monsieur Ménard."

"The King of Prussia's?"

"Yes, monsieur; the great Frederick, who, as you know, was very fond of snuff and often carried it in his pocket; still, he had snuff-boxes, which were always very simple, like everything he carried. He himself gave this one to my father, from whom I had it."

"Ah! monsieur le baron, if I might dare to crave the honor----"

And Ménard respectfully put out two fingers to take a pinch of snuff from the Prussian king's snuff-box, which Dubourg smilingly offered him.

Ménard took a pinch with becoming humility. He stuffed his nose full of snuff which he considered delicious, and, when he sneezed, the poor man fancied that he bore some slight resemblance to the King of Prussia. He had lost his head completely; the fumes of grandeur mingled with those of the snuff, and at the third sneeze he cried, saluting Baron Potoski with renewed deference:

"It certainly is not necessary to write to monsieur le comte."