Chapter XLI: A Glance

A few weeks later, a splendid ball was given by the Prince de Valdimer, a wealthy and luxury-loving foreigner, ambassador of one of the Northern powers.

Every person who imparted any ray of brilliancy to the somewhat dismal court of Louis XIII, every bearer of an illustrious name in France, was bidden to this festivity. The Comte de Marvejols had not been forgotten.

It was hardly possible to move in the salons of the vast mansion which the Prince de Valdimer had hired, and which he had caused to be decorated and illuminated on a most magnificent scale.

The ladies, dressed in rich gowns, were covered with diamonds, pearls, and jewels. The men, who were more coquettish in those days than we are to-day, also wore laces, plumes, and precious stones on their garments.

Then there were the newly rich merchants, the financiers, the farmers-general, who sought to disguise their origin by arraying themselves in sumptuous vestments of gold and silver brocade.

A fact that gave additional importance to this function in the eyes of many persons was that it was said that the Cardinal de Richelieu had promised to attend.

The crowd was therefore so great that one sometimes had to wait a long while before going from one room to another, if one did not wish to be suffocated.

A young woman of rare beauty, holding her elegant figure gracefully erect, and leaning on the arm of a man of forty, whose face wore a severe but noble expression, led her escort into a window recess as if in search of air, saying:

"In heaven's name, monsieur le marquis, let us not mingle with that crowd; let us wait here a moment, where we may perhaps be able to breathe! Mon Dieu! what a multitude of people! the whole court and the whole city are at this fête!"

"If you dread the heat, if this crowded hall has no charms for you, Valentine, we will go away."

"Oh, no! I wish to stay; it is a very brilliant affair; but I would like to rest a moment here."

"As you please."

"Why, here is Monsieur le Marquis de Santoval!" cried a little hunchbacked old man, who held his head erect, however, and whose eyes were instinct with cunning and good humor, addressing the escort of the lady who had taken refuge in the window recess; "have I the honor of saluting madame la marquise?"

"Yes, my dear De Noirteuil," replied Monsieur de Santoval, shaking hands with the little old man.

"Ah! present me, I pray you."

"Madame, allow me to present Monsieur de Noirteuil, a gentleman from the South--like myself; moreover, a clever diplomatist who has often placed his talents at the service of his country, and always with success."

"What would you have--I had nothing else to offer my country; it would have none of my person!--But allow me to congratulate you, Santoval! You are a lucky mortal, 'pon my honor! I have heard your wife's beauty extolled, but I see that what I have heard is far below the truth!"

"You are gallant, as always, De Noirteuil!"

"At this moment I am simply the echo of what is said on every side.--What think you of this fête, _belle dame_? a little crowded, is it not?"

"Why, monsieur, it seems to me to be very brilliant, very splendid!"

"Humph! too many people! That is the way with these foreigners; when they want to give a fête, they invite and invite! they would do much better to make a selection, to sort people out."

"What! do you mean to say that you have seen anybody who is out of place here?"

"I do not say that; still, after all, he might well have invited a smaller number."

"They say that the cardinal is coming."

"That is possible; but it is all the same to me--I don't care about seeing him, I have no request to make of him. He has just organized two companies of _mousquetaires_, but I fancy that he will not appoint me to a captaincy. Ha! ha!"

"Still fond of your laugh, my dear De Noirteuil!"

"Ah! I must have something, you know, marquis! Now, you possess an enchanting wife, and I, my gayety! I never had any other companion; but it has its good points.--Mon Dieu! what do I see? What miracle is this? Is it really he? Yes, it is himself, on my word!"

"Of whom are you speaking, De Noirteuil?"

"Of that young cavalier whom I see yonder, at the entrance of the gallery; dressed in the extreme of fashion, with princely magnificence! But he carries it well, vrai Dieu! He is a very pretty fellow, that Léodgard de Marvejols!"

"Ah! you are speaking of the Comte de Marvejols?--What is the matter, Valentine? do you feel ill?"

"I, monsieur? not in the least. Why do you ask me that?"

"Because it seemed to me that your arm suddenly rested very heavily on mine.--I am happy that my alarm was unfounded."

"I uttered that exclamation of surprise," continued the hunchback, "because it is a long while since young Marvejols has been seen at any ball or party; he has ceased entirely to go to court; in short, between us, he is looked upon as a regular _mauvais sujet_, who frequents only courtesans and low gambling hells!"

"It would seem that you are not his friend, monsieur," said Valentine, with an ironical glance at the little man.

"I, madame la marquise? Oh! I bear him no ill will. I have never been his rival. Ha! ha!--Look, he is coming this way!"

Léodgard, having learned from several persons that the Marquise de Santoval was in that room, was trying to force his way through the crowd and had succeeded in reaching a point within a few feet of the window where Valentine was.

Old De Noirteuil immediately bowed several times to Léodgard and offered him his hand, saying, in the shrill, piercing voice which seems to be the patrimony of hunchbacks:

"Hail! my dear count, hail! Enchanted to see you, on my word of honor! you are such a rare bird--at court, at all events; no one will ever reproach you for being too zealous a courtier! But, vive Dieu! you should not abandon your place to others in this way! A Marvejols is intended to show himself, as I was saying just now to my friend the Marquis de Santoval and his charming wife."

While the little old man was speaking, Léodgard had fixed his eyes on Valentine, who, in her turn, fixed hers upon him. This reciprocal glance lasted only an instant, but what a multitude of things were said during that swift flash, which seemed of the sort to kindle a conflagration!

The Comte de Marvejols well deserved that a lady should rest her eyes upon him. Hardly twenty-eight years old, tall, well made, and endowed with a noble and graceful bearing, he possessed in addition very handsome features and an expression at once winning and haughty. The only points that one could criticise in Léodgard's appearance were an extreme pallor which gave to his face a suggestion of the other world, and a certain vagueness in his glance which harmonized too well with the pallor of his brow.

But, as women, in general, are rather inclined to men who have something uncommon about them, Léodgard made many conquests, and his appearance at the Prince de Valdimer's had created a sensation.

After exchanging a handshake with Monsieur de Noirteuil, he saluted the Marquis de Santoval; then he bowed low to Valentine, accompanying the movement with a slight smile, which indicated that it was not the first time that he had presented his respects to the marchioness. Then he walked on into another salon.

"He is good-looking, very good-looking, a charming cavalier!" murmured the little old man, looking after the count.

"Monsieur de Marvejols bowed to you as to an old acquaintance, it seemed to me," said Monsieur de Santoval, whose brow had grown dark.

"Why, my father was a very close friend of the Marquis de Marvejols, so that the count and I are not strangers; I have met him once or twice."

"Oh! I beg pardon; I knew nothing of that.--Is not the count married?"

"Yes, indeed! oh, yes!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil; "in fact, he made a very absurd marriage--the daughter of a man who kept a shop; and it was his father, the old marquis, who insisted that the marriage should take place. It seems that there had been seduction, malediction, desertion--and a child with it all."

"Men renowned for their _bonnes fortunes_ seem to have bad ones too, sometimes!" observed Monsieur de Santoval, smiling in a strange fashion.

"It seems to me, monsieur, that the crowd is less dense," said Valentine, "and that we might walk through the other rooms now."

"With pleasure, madame; I am at your service."

"Lovely woman! enchanting woman!" cried the little hunchback, as he watched the young marchioness move away on her husband's arm.

"Yes," said the Baron de Montrevert, leaning unceremoniously on the little man's shoulder; "but much too lovely for her husband--eh, Noirteuil?"

"Do not lean on me so, baron--you are heavy, you are extremely heavy, baron!"

"What do you mean by that, you crafty old man? Do you refer to my body or my mind?"

"Both."

"Is it true that Léodgard is here?"

"Quite true; I spoke to him just now."

"Do you know that Sénange has enticed Camilla, his mistress, away from him?"

"How do you suppose that I know that? Do I consort with courtesans, pray? I have never cared for that sort of woman!"

"Ha! ha! ha! I think that you have been very wise, my dear friend!"

"You laugh, do you? Mon Dieu! if I had chosen to cover them with gold, they would have adored me."

"You mean that they would have pretended to."

"To a man of sense, that amounts to the same thing. Look you--you mention Léodgard; he is handsome, young, and well made; and yet you told me just now that his mistress had left him!"

"That is true; and the strangest part of it is that Léodgard has not had a quarrel with Sénange; indeed, it is said that they continue to be good friends."

"Par la sambleu! I should say so! What greater service can one render a friend than to rid him of an old mistress?"

"Noirteuil, you are a villain! It is very lucky for the ladies that you have that slight protuberance on your shoulder!"

"Why so?"

"Because it has preserved them from the tricks you would have played on them.--But I propose to try to find the fair Santoval, and, if possible, I will dance with her."

"Go! go singe yourself at the candle, my handsome moth!" said the little old man, mingling with the crowd; "I fancy that more than one of you will scorch his wings; but I shall not be one!"

Léodgard had turned his back on Valentine, still fascinated by her glance, by her beauty which had disturbed his senses, by her charming and noble carriage, by the grace with which she wore her splendid costume, and, lastly, by the change which the title of wife had wrought in her manner and in her whole aspect.

He could not convince himself that that intoxicating beauty was really the maiden whose hand he had refused. But he remembered that in those days he had hardly glanced at her, and that she, on her side, had barely raised her eyes to his face; and he said to himself:

"What a difference! What a glance she flashed at me just now! There was in her eyes a sort of ironical expression which seemed to jeer at me for having failed to appreciate her--a sort of challenge to me to refuse to do homage to her charms!--Ah! I long to see her again! to gaze upon her charms a long while, a very long while! to taste that happiness which I once spurned! Will she look at me again as she did just now?"

Léodgard succeeded without difficulty in finding Valentine. The young marchioness, alleging the heat as a pretext, had refused all invitations to dance; she had seated herself on one of the raised benches in the gallery, which were so arranged that the ladies who sat there could enjoy the sight of the ball without moving.

When he discovered Valentine, the Comte de Marvejols leaned against a pillar within fifteen feet of her, because from that place, thanks to her elevated position, he could gaze at her at his ease. The Marquis de Santoval, being at the foot of the benches, and surrounded by people, could not see Léodgard.

The latter had been in his chosen place but a few moments when he became certain that Valentine had seen him, that she knew that he was there for the sole purpose of admiring her and watching her movements. Thereafter he saw nobody in the whole assemblage but that woman, a single glance from whose eyes had sufficed to set his heart on fire. All the passing, all the going and coming about him were powerless to divert his attention; his eyes did not wander from the Marquise de Santoval.

"Vive Dieu! my dear count, you are terribly preoccupied, this is the second time that I have spoken to you without obtaining a reply!"

As he spoke, the Baron de Montrevert placed his hand on Léodgard's arm; the latter angrily roused himself from his contemplation and muttered:

"Well! what is it, Montrevert? Is not a man the master of his thoughts and actions here?"

"Oh, the devil! How surly you are to-night, Léodgard! Have I disturbed you in some very pleasant occupation? I will wager that I know what has nailed you to this pillar! Yes, now I know!--Aha! my dear master, we are admiring the Marquise de Santoval, who is on one of the benches yonder!--Well! in that case, I forgive you for snarling at me--such a lovely woman is quite capable of making us forget our friends!--But look--it seems to me that she casts a glance in our direction; this is a good place, apparently!"

Léodgard had resumed his contemplation of the marchioness and was no longer listening to Montrevert.

At that moment the little old hunchback joined them and stood on tiptoe, crying:

"What are you looking at there? Is the cardinal in that direction? I don't care about seeing him--I know him; still, as they say that he is thinner than ever, I should like to judge.--Montrevert, take me in your arms a moment, so that I may see."

Montrevert followed Léodgard's example--he did not reply. The Chevalier de La Valteline, who also had stopped near them, said to Monsieur de Noirteuil:

"Console yourself; it is not the cardinal they are looking at; it is the young Marquise de Santoval, whom everybody is admiring."

"The Marquise de Santoval! Oh! that makes a difference; I know her! I am very intimate with her husband!--But what a noise there is in the next room! Doubtless the cardinal is making his _entrée_; he seems to be coming this way, for the commotion is approaching us. So much the better! we shall be able to see him."

At that moment, the new arrival, whose peculiar costume and unique figure caused such a lively sensation in the throng that filled the rooms, made his appearance at the door of the gallery where the benches were. At sight of him many ladies could not control their desire to laugh, which they tried to dissemble behind their fans, while the little hunchback cried:

"By Notre Dame! who is this green man, who looks not unlike an asparagus stalk?--But I know him! why, yes, it's the Gascon chevalier, Monsieur de Passedix!--Where in the devil did the Prince de Valdimer pick up all these people?"

"My dear De Noirteuil," said La Valteline, "do not make a mistake; Passedix is a genuine chevalier of good family! He is absurd with respect to his physique, his costume, and his pretentious ways--that may be; but he is in no wise out of place here!"

The Gascon had, in fact, laid aside his orange costume. Having succeeded in obtaining an invitation to the Prince de Valdimer's ball, he had determined to create a sensation there by his magnificence, and, above all, by the originality of his costume; he had, in short, decided to do his utmost to forget Miretta; and having found no cure for his troubles in wine, he proposed to himself to make other conquests, hoping that another love would cure him of the passion which had caused him naught but vexation.

For several days, Passedix had reflected upon the subject of the color which would be most becoming to him and at the same time would be likely to attract the eyes of the ladies at a ball. He had decided on apple-green, and had ordered a satin doublet and short-clothes of that color, both slashed with olive-green, to form a contrast with the background. A dark-green girdle surrounded his waist; a short apple-green cloak was fastened to the left shoulder; and lastly, a sea-green velvet cap, surmounted by plumes of the same shade, completed the costume of the chevalier, who resembled an ambulatory tree, and whose entrance had produced an effect even beyond his hopes.

"One could never imagine anything like it, if one did not see it!" said the little old man.

Passedix, who had recognized La Valteline and Montrevert, pushed through the crowd which escorted him, and hastened to join them.

"Hail to the flower of chivalry!" exclaimed La Valteline, smiling.

"Enchanted to meet you, my fine fellows!--Cadédis! what a crowd at this ball! it is gorgeous! it is elegant! The fair sex predominates--so much the better, sandis!--I say with François I: a ball without ladies is a court without roses--no, I mean a springtime--but, no matter!--Ah! but there is our friend the Comte de Marvejols, glued to yonder pillar.--Good-evening, Léodgard! How now! not a word for a comrade?--Can he have gone deaf, I wonder? he does not answer!"

"No," said Montrevert; "but I believe that he has fallen in love with the Marquise de Santoval, who is sitting over yonder."

"The Marquise de Santoval!" repeated Passedix, with difficulty repressing a sigh.

"That name makes you sigh, chevalier," said La Valteline; "can it be that you too are one of the adorers of that lady, who sows confusion in all hearts?"

"I! oh! not at all; but I remembered that the Marquise de Santoval is no other than Mademoiselle Valentine de Mongarcin--that is all."

"Vertuchoux! monsieur," said the little old man, saluting Passedix in his turn, "you have chosen an exceedingly dashing costume for the ball, and one which, as you must have noticed, produces a great effect here."

"My costume is graceful and distinguished, is it not? I have always had a weakness for apple-green; it is very becoming to me!"

"Yes, you wear it in a way that is peculiar to yourself."

"You have the general aspect of a shrub," said Montrevert.

"So much the better, sandioux! I am a rosebush; the ladies will be the roses."

"You represent hope also!" said Monsieur de Noirteuil.

"As you say, I am the chevalier of hope."

"One might also take him for a lettuce!" said the little hunchback, in an undertone.

"But, if I remember aright, you were all orange not long ago?"

"Yes, yes, that is true; but I have had enough of my orange costume; it came very near costing me dear.--Did Sénange and Monclair never tell you what happened to me, thanks to that infernal doublet?"

"No, we know nothing about it. Was it not a love adventure?"

"Love adventure! Bigre!--I beg pardon, I meant to say no, by Roland!--I was arrested, taken away--the crowd was already beginning to talk of hanging me! and all because they absolutely insisted that I was the famous robber Giovanni!"

"Giovanni! you, Giovanni! Ha! ha! ha! that is too absurd!--I say, Léodgard, Passedix was mistaken for Giovanni!"

The name of the Italian robber produced a magical effect upon Léodgard. The amorous expression of his glance instantly disappeared; he turned toward those who had addressed him, gazed at them with a distracted air, and replied in a metallic voice:

"What? what is it? what do you say? I did not hear."

"I said, count, that the Chevalier Passedix, whom you see before you disguised as a lawn----"

"What do you mean by _lawn_?" cried the Gascon.

"No; I meant to say dressed as a meadow--in short, this worthy gentleman was arrested by mistake for the robber Giovanni!"

"Ah! he was arrested?"

"Don't you agree with me that it is very comical?"

"Sandis! baron, I see nothing amusing in it at all! What do you see in it that moves you to laughter?"

"Pardieu! Passedix, the fact that you no more resemble Giovanni than that enormous lady yonder resembles the Marquise de Santoval; and I speak by the card, having had the honor of being set upon and robbed by the illustrious brigand!"

"What, monsieur le baron! have you been attacked by the famous Giovanni?" said the little hunchback, raising his head in order to look at Montrevert more closely.

"Yes, monsieur, and much more than attacked--I was beaten; for I tried to defend myself. But Léodgard here knows Giovanni much better than I, for he has had two encounters with him: the first, when he was robbed, like myself; on the second occasion, he tried to avenge me and kill the villainous thief; he fought with him and wounded him.--Is not that so, count?"

"Yes, it is true, I wounded him; at least, I thought so!" Léodgard replied, trying to hide his emotion, and glancing uneasily in every direction.

"You thought so!" rejoined Montrevert; "why, it was no delusion, as you were covered with blood when you came back to us."

"Cadédis!" cried Passedix, raising his hand to put aside one of the plumes, which fell over his left eye; "I don't know what I would give to cut that infernal robber in four pieces!"

"In that case, messieurs," said Monsieur de Noirteuil, "you must indeed know this Giovanni perfectly."

"That is why I said just now that the Chevalier Passedix did not resemble him at all!" said Montrevert. "Not that you can see his face, which is all hidden by his beard, but you can distinguish his eyes, which are very black and very bright, and his nose, which is long and sharp."

"Well! all that resembles me, I should say!"

"But he is a long way from having a figure like yours--he is not even so tall as Léodgard; he is very active, and seems to be powerfully built and quite young."

"I see no great difference from your humble servant."

"For some time past, we have heard nothing of people being attacked by this robber," said the little old man; "it would seem that he is reposing, or that he has left Paris."

"No, indeed!" said La Valteline; "but the shrewd rascal always awaits a good opportunity before acting; he does not steal for trifles! No, no! he is a fellow who selects his victims.--Not more than fifteen days, that is to say, fifteen nights ago, the wealthy Destaillis, receiver of the salt tax, was robbed by him as he left a gambling house in which he had broken the bank!"

"Sandis! if I were lieutenant of police, I would be ashamed of not having captured this Giovanni yet!"

"It seems that he has retreats, hiding places, in every quarter; he throws off the track all the bloodhounds that are set on him."

"Patience, messieurs," said the little hunchback; "I have been assured that the Cardinal de Richelieu said lately that he proposed to turn his attention to that villain! And if his eminence takes a hand in it, Giovanni will be caught."

"But what is this commotion in the gallery?--Ah! messieurs, this time it is really the cardinal; he is going to pass through here."

"I don't care about seeing him," said the hunchback, darting toward the crowd, "but he may have something to say to me; that is why I think it better to be where he can see me."

"For my part, I should not be sorry to have him notice me!" said Passedix.

"Oh! parbleu, chevalier!" said Montrevert; "he cannot help it! You have a costume that attracts every eye."

"So much the better! Sandis! you make me swim in joy! Bigre! here he is! we must stand erect!"

Richelieu came forward slowly, surrounded by a throng of courtiers, all of whom strove to obtain a favorable glance or a mere word from his eminence; and those who were vilifying the prime minister most savagely a few moments before were not the least eager to bend their backs double to obtain a smile.

As it was absolutely necessary for the guests to stand aside and make room for the cardinal to pass, he stopped a moment in front of the pillar against which Léodgard was leaning, and glanced at the persons nearest him.

"His eminence paused to look at me," said Passedix, leaning toward La Valteline. "Look--see----"

"He turns and speaks in an undertone to the Prince de Valdimer, who is at his side."

"I should not be surprised if he were to call me! He wishes to know the address of my tailor!"

But the Gascon's expectations were not fulfilled; it was not upon him that Richelieu had cast his eagle eye; it was Léodgard whom he had noticed; it was the name of the Comte de Marvejols that had come from his mouth.

After gracefully saluting the ladies who stood along his path, Richelieu walked through the gallery; but before he took his leave he cast at Léodgard another glance, of which all the courtiers then present sought in vain to divine the meaning.