Chapter XXIII: The Hôtel De Mongarcin

It was the morrow of a grand reception given at the Hôtel de Mongarcin,--a function which had brought together the most noble dames and the gentlemen of the first families of France then residing in the capital.

Madame de Ravenelle and her niece had done the honors of the fête; but Valentine especially had displayed that grace and refinement of manner which made her a noteworthy figure everywhere.

It was she who had conceived the idea of giving a reception; and her aunt had consented, but on condition that her niece should take it upon herself to arrange and manage everything.

The guests had conversed; they had played lansquenet, brelan, primero, dice, and other fashionable games; they had danced sarabands, _passe-pieds, branles_, and all the dances then in vogue. In fact, everybody had seemed delighted with the evening's entertainment, and had lavished compliments upon Valentine and Madame de Ravenelle, congratulating the latter upon having a niece who did the honors of her house so gracefully.

And as the givers of a large party are usually very tired on the following day, the old aunt was stretched out on a reclining chair, from which she did not stir; while Valentine sat on a sofa, with her feet on a soft hassock, holding in her hands a piece of embroidery upon which she was not working.

"Are you asleep, aunt?" inquired Valentine, after a very long silence.

"I think not, niece; at all events, if I had been, your question would have waked me!"

"Oh! I see that you were not asleep at all.--Our reception last night was very brilliant, was it not?"

"If it is to ask me that that you interfere with my doze----"

"No; I wanted to ask you also if you noticed that all those whom we invited came?"

"All! do you think so?"

"Yes, aunt, with the exception of a single one.--Oh! I am quite sure that you noticed that, too."

"It is true," said Madame de Ravenelle, partly rising, "that the young Comte de Marvejols did not come."

"He is the one I mean. I trust that now you will not give another thought to my marrying this gentleman, who shows--I will not say so little zeal, for he has shown zeal in avoiding me!--but who is almost discourteous to us!"

"But, Valentine, young Léodgard's father, the Marquis de Marvejols, accepted our invitation; he apologized for his son and said that fatigue, an attack of fever, kept him at home."

"Of course you do not suppose that I believe a word of that! Fatigue! fever! If he were ill, would his father have come to our party?"

"He may be only indisposed; the marquis, his father, was delightfully amiable with me! He is a man of the old school; he stands very well at court; it is said that the king is much attached to him, and that the cardinal himself has the highest esteem for Monsieur de Marvejols."

"Mon Dieu! aunt, I have never ventured to doubt any of monsieur le marquis's estimable qualities, although his manner seems to me rather stern than amiable. That he stands very well at court is possible; but that does not make it any the less true that his son will never be my husband. Upon my word! fancy my taking for my husband a man who despises me!"

"Oh! my dear niece!"

"Why, my dear aunt, since this gentleman does not deign to take the trouble to pay court to me, since he even avoids my society, does it not mean that he disdains an alliance with me?"

"Have you heard of his paying court to any other woman? No!--If you could name some nobly born person, some _grande dame_, whose assiduous attendant he was, I could understand your irritation. But young Léodgard goes most rarely into society; he likes those parties of young men, where they gamble and drink and fight and raise the deuce with passers-by.--Mon Dieu! niece, such amusements have been indulged in by many young men of illustrious birth. Why, some even go so far as to say that one of our kings took great pleasure in going out at night with his favorites, his _mignons_, and that they used to steal cloaks from the people they met!"

"Oh! aunt! do you approve of that?"

"No, surely not! But I simply mean to say that young Léodgard may be only a heedless youth, who dreads the moment when he must marry; because he knows that then he will have to reform, to change his mode of life altogether and live in a circle where he must maintain his rank worthily."

Valentine made no reply.

A few moments later she rang, and said to Madame de Ravenelle:

"I am going to tell Miretta to finish this tapestry; the work tires me, and the little Béarnaise does it so beautifully!--She did that corner, and it's much better than I can do. She is running over with talent, that girl--she has excellent taste in everything; she trims a cap with marvellous skill!--Will you allow her to work here, aunt, on my stool? We shall not have any visitors to-day."

The old lady confined herself to a nod of assent.

Miretta entered the salon.

"Come here, Miretta," said Valentine, pointing to the stool; "sit here, and work on my embroidery; this work bores me; in any event, I am in no mood to hold a needle this morning; I am tired. Sit down. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Don't hurry, work at your ease; this foot rest is not needed at present.--Did you see everybody last night, Miretta?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I helped the ladies to take off their cloaks and mantles and shawls in the small reception room."

"Ah! to be sure. There were some very pretty ladies, were there not?"

"Oh, yes! but----"

"Well! finish."

"Mademoiselle will think that I mean to pay her a compliment; but I am not given to flattery--I say just what I think."

"Well, say it; what do you think?"

"That mademoiselle was the most beautiful of all the ladies, married or single, who were at the house last evening."

"Really? Why, that is very prettily said.--Do you hear what Miretta says to me, aunt?"

Madame de Ravenelle did not reply, but they heard a sound as of prolonged breathing.

"Ah! my aunt is asleep this time," continued Valentine; "so much the better; we can talk more freely; but we will speak a little lower.--Well! my poor Miretta, so you consider me beautiful enough to carry the day over many other women. Several gentlemen told me last night what you have just told me. I received a multitude of compliments, attentions, even declarations! I am well aware that I must look upon them as the little courtesies which it is customary to address to ladies, but, after all, I know also that I am not ugly! And, nevertheless, there is one young man who does not choose to see me, for fear that he may be obliged to show me a little attention."

"Oh! that is most surprising, mademoiselle; unless, indeed, this young noble has some other passion in his heart!"

"That is what I thought, myself; but I am told that it is not so!"

"But can anyone know such things?"

"Oh! you are right, Miretta; is it possible to know the secrets of the heart? But look you, Miretta: I am very sure of one thing--that is, that you love someone!"

"I, mademoiselle?" replied the girl, blushing.

"Yes, yes! you! Come, tell me the secrets of your heart; since you have been in my service, I have watched you closely; in the first place, you are not light-hearted and merry, as a girl should be; you sigh very often; and when you think that you are not observed, you raise your eyes to heaven as if in entreaty--for whom? Ah! it can only be for the man whom one loves that one addresses such eloquent glances to heaven! Am I wrong, Miretta? have you not in your heart a love which makes you unhappy? Come, confess it!"

"Yes, mademoiselle, you are not mistaken; it is true that my heart is--is no longer mine."

"Ah! I was perfectly sure of it; but then the man whom you love so dearly does not reciprocate, since you sigh so much?"

"I beg pardon, mademoiselle; the man I love does return my love."

"Then why are you sad so often? Perhaps it is because there are obstacles; you are not allowed to see each other, you are forbidden to love."

"There are many obstacles, mademoiselle, in truth, and I meet him very rarely."

"But he is in Paris, is he?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"And it was to join him that you came hither, I will warrant."

"That is true, mademoiselle."

"See what a power of divination I possess! But what does your lover do? Is he not free? Are you not able to marry?"

Miretta lowered her eyes, her bosom heaved painfully, the pallor of deadly alarm overspread her brow.

"Well! I see that I make you unhappy!" continued Valentine; "let us say no more about it. But still, you do see your lover sometimes, and then you are very happy. Oh! when that happens, I can detect it by your face; you are no longer the same girl that you were the day before; you smile and are almost gay. Because, as I believe it is as difficult to conceal one's happiness as one's suffering.--For my part, I have no love for the man they would like me to marry; no, indeed! I have not the slightest love for him, although he is a very well-favored young man."

"Ah! do you know him, mademoiselle?"

"Very little; I have seen him once or twice in society. He is the son of that old nobleman who was here last night--that tall, thin man with a severe expression, dressed all in black, in the style of the time of Henri IV, with a ruff that concealed his chin--the Marquis de Marvejols, in fact."

"The Marquis de Marvejols! Is it his son whom you are expected to marry, mademoiselle?"

"To be sure! why that exclamation?"

"Because, last night I was in the main vestibule when that old gentleman arrived."

"Well! what then?"

"All your servants were there, and also a clerk from the office of your aunt's solicitor, who had come to give her some information about some business--a debt due her, or something else, I don't know what! But, as you may imagine, they told the little clerk--for he is a very small fellow--they told him that there was a grand reception going on, and that madame could not receive him."

"What relation has all this to the old Marquis de Marvejols?"

"Why, mademoiselle, when Monsieur Bahuchet--that is the little clerk's name--when he found that he could not be received, he put his papers in his pocket, saying: 'Very well; I will return to-morrow.'--But, instead of going away at once, as the guests were arriving, he remained a long while in the vestibule, talking with the major-domo and the servants. He is a great gossip, but he is amusing; for he made comments on everybody who arrived, and I assure you, mademoiselle, that sometimes he said some very comical things.--So, when this old gentleman arrived, and the servant announced Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols, the little clerk cried:

"'Ah! I know that nobleman, and his son too. He had a pretty little pile of debts, had the son; but the father paid them all some time ago; it was my master, my solicitor, who called the creditors together. Comte Léodgard promised to reform, but he doesn't reform; he is beginning to run in debt again; and then, he's a great fellow for midnight intrigues! I'll wager that he won't come here to-night; he is too fully occupied elsewhere!'"

"The clerk said that?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I was quite near him and I heard him plainly."

"Well! what else did he say? go on!"

"He said nothing more on that subject, mademoiselle; for other persons arrived, and he had comments to make on them. It seems that that young man knows all Paris; but nothing more was said about the son of Monsieur le Marquis de Marvejols."

"What a pity! I should be so glad to know something more; and it is very probable that this clerk--what did you call him?"

"Bahuchet, mademoiselle; a bit of a man, not so tall as I am, and with a most original face!"

"This Monsieur Bahuchet must know more; and as he is so talkative, if one had an opportunity to question him----"

At that moment the door of the salon opened, and a servant appeared and said:

"The clerk from the office of madame's solicitor, who came last evening, wishes to know if he may speak to Madame de Ravenelle."

"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Valentine, jumping for joy. "Let him come in; he could not come more opportunely!"

"Eh! mon Dieu! what is it? why this noise, these cries?" demanded the old lady, rudely awakened from her nap. "What is the matter, Valentine?"

"Your solicitor's clerk wishes to speak with you, aunt."

"And that is your reason for shrieking so! Let them send the clerk away; I do not care to attend to any business to-day, I am too tired."

"But, aunt, he came last night; and then, if you knew--he will tell us some very interesting things about the young Comte de Marvejols."

"What! my solicitor?"

"His clerk. I beg you, my dear aunt, let me question him; do not you take the trouble to speak, if it tires you; I will speak for you."

Madame de Ravenelle threw herself back in her reclining chair, and at the same instant Monsieur Bahuchet was ushered into the presence of the ladies.