Chapter VI: Part 6

At this moment two men appeared at the park gate, and Gilberte, tearing herself free with a desperate effort, rushed toward them and sought protection from the one who was nearest to her. She was received in Monsieur de Boisguilbault's arms.

As she was almost fainting with fear and indignation, she hid her face on the old man's breast, and neither he nor the carpenter had time to recognize her; but when he saw Galuchet running away, all Jean's rancor against him awoke, and he rushed after him.

Monsieur Cardonnet's clerk was short and stout, and Jean, despite his age, had the advantage in build and activity. Seeing that he was on the point of being overtaken, Galuchet turned to meet him, relying on his strength.

Thereupon a struggle took place between them, and Galuchet, who was a sturdy fellow, sustained the first attack not unsuccessfully; but Jean was an athlete, and he soon brought him to the ground on the bank of the stream.

"Ah! so you are not content to play the trade of spy!" he said, putting his knees on his chest and clutching his throat so tight that the poor devil was forced to relax his hold, "but you needs must insult women, you miserable cur! I ought to crush such a venomous beast as you are; but you are such a coward that you would prosecute me for it. Well! you shan't have that pleasure; you shall leave my hands without a scratch that you can show; I will content myself with a shave that's just fit for you."

Whereupon the carpenter picked up a handful of black mud on the bank of the stream and rubbed Galuchet's face and shirt and cravat with it; then he let him go and said, standing in front of him:

"Just try to touch me, and see if I won't make you eat some of it!"

Galuchet had had altogether too rough a demonstration of the power of the carpenter's arm to expose himself to it again. He longed to throw a stone at his head when he calmly turned his back on him. But it occurred to him that it might turn out a serious matter, and that he would have to pay dear for it, if he failed to lay him low at the first blow.

So he beat a retreat, not without pouring forth insults and threats against him and the hussy who had claimed his protection; but he dared not mention Gilberte's name or let it be known that he had recognized her. He was not perfectly sure that she would not eventually become his employer's daughter-in-law, for Monsieur Cardonnet had seemed terribly anxious and irresolute since Emile had been sick.

Gilberte and the marquis did not witness this scene. The girl was suffocating with excitement, and, hardly conscious of her surroundings, allowed herself to be led toward the chalet. Monsieur de Boisguilbault, sorely embarrassed by the adventure, but resolved to lend his aid like a loyal gentleman to an insulted female, dared not speak to her or let her know that he had recognized her. His distrust returned; he wondered if this scene had not been prearranged to throw the fluttering dove into his bosom: but when she fell fainting at the door of the chalet, and he saw her pallor, her glazed eyes and purple lips, he was seized with affectionate sympathy and with fierce indignation against the man who was capable of insulting a defenceless woman. Thereupon he said to himself that the noble girl had incurred that danger in order to prove to him her pride and disinterestedness. He lifted her, carried her to a chair, and said as he rubbed her icy hands:

"Have courage, Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun; be calm, I implore you! you are safe here and you are welcome."

"Gilberte!" cried the carpenter, as he entered the room and recognized Monsieur Antoine's daughter; "my Gilberte! God in heaven! is it possible? Ah! if I had known this I wouldn't have spared the villain! but he isn't far away and I must catch him and kill him!"

Frantic with rage, he was about to go in pursuit of Galuchet, but the marquis and Gilberte, who had partly recovered consciousness, detained him. They had some difficulty, for Jean was beside himself. At last the marquis made him understand that in the interest of Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun's reputation, he should pursue his vengeance no farther.

Meanwhile the marquis continued to be exceedingly embarrassed in Gilberte's presence. She wished to go, he longed, in his heart, to have her stay, but he could not make up his mind to tell her so, except by insisting upon the necessity of her taking a little time to rest and recover from her emotion. But Gilberte was afraid of making her father and Janille anxious again, and declared that she felt quite strong enough to go. The marquis offered her his carriage; he offered ether; he looked for a phial and could not find it; he hovered about her; he tried to think of something to say to her in reply to her action and her letter; and although he lacked neither good manners nor ease of manner when his mind was once made up, he was more awkward and embarrassed than a young student making his début in society, when he was struggling with the pitiful irresolution of his character.

Finally, as Gilberte rose to take her leave with Jean, who was to escort her to Châteaubrun, he also rose, took his hat and grasped his new cane with a determined air which made the carpenter smile.

"You will allow me to accompany you too," he said. "That scoundrel may be in ambush somewhere, and two champions are better than one."

"Let him come!" Jean whispered to Gilberte, who was on the point of declining his offer.

They left the park, and at first the marquis walked some distance behind or in front, as if to act as a guard. At last he found himself beside Gilberte, and, observing that she seemed prostrated and could hardly walk, he decided to offer her his arm. Little by little he fell into conversation with her and gradually felt more at ease. He talked at first on general subjects, then of herself more particularly. He questioned her concerning her tastes, her occupations, her reading; and although she was very modest and reserved, he soon discovered that she was endowed with superior intelligence, and that she had a very solid foundation of useful knowledge.

Impressed by this discovery, he sought to ascertain where and how she had learned so many serious things, and she admitted that she had derived the larger part of her knowledge from the library at Boisguilbault.

"I am proud and delighted to hear it," said the marquis, "and I place all my books at your disposal. I trust that you will send and ask for what you want, unless you will consent to trust me to select for you and to send you a parcel every week. Jean will consent to be our messenger until Emile can take his place again."

Gilberte sighed; she could hardly believe, in view of Emile's alarming silence, that happy time would ever come.

"Pray lean on my arm," said the marquis; "you seem ill and you are not willing that I should assist you."

When they reached the foot of the hill of Châteaubrun, Monsieur de Boisguilbault, who seemed to have forgotten his whereabouts, began to show signs of excitement, like a restive horse. Suddenly he stopped and gently withdrew Gilberte's arm from his and placed it in the carpenter's.

"I leave you at your door and with a devoted friend," he said. "You have no further need of me, but I carry away your promise to make use of my books."

"If only I could carry you farther with me!" said Gilberte in a supplicating tone; "I would agree never to open a book in my life, although it would be a great deprivation to me."

"Unfortunately it is impossible!" he replied with a sigh; "but time and chance bring about unexpected meetings. I hope, mademoiselle, that I do not say adieu to you forever; for that thought would be very painful to me."

He bowed and returned to his chalet, where he locked himself in and passed a portion of the night writing, arranging papers and gazing at the marchioness's portrait.

The next day, at noon, Monsieur de Boisguilbault donned his green coat, cut in the style of the Empire, his lightest wig, doe-skin breeches, gloves, and half-boots armed with short swan's-neck silver spurs. A servant, in the full dress livery of an esquire, brought him the finest horse in his stables, and, mounting himself a beast almost as perfect, followed him at a slow trot along the Gargilesse road, carrying a small casket slung over his arm by a strap.

Great was the surprise of the village folk when they saw the marquis ride within their walls, erect and stiff on his white horse, like a teacher of horsemanship of the olden time, in ceremonious costume, with gold spectacles and a gold-headed hunting-crop, which he carried somewhat like a taper. It was at least ten years since Monsieur de Boisguilbault had entered a town or a village. The children followed him, dazzled by the magnificence of his equipment, the women rushed to their door-steps, and the men carrying burdens halted in stupefaction in the middle of the street.

He rode slowly up the precipitous thoroughfare and down on the other side to Monsieur Cardonnet's factory, being too good a horseman to indulge in imprudent antics; and, resuming the trot à la Française as he rode into the factory yard, he regulated his horse's gait so perfectly that his hoof-beats sounded like the ticking of a clock in perfect order. Certainly he still made a gallant appearance, and the women said: "You see that he is a sorcerer, for he hasn't grown a day older in the ten years since we last saw him here."

He asked for Monsieur Emile Cardonnet and found the young man in his bedroom, sitting on a sofa, with his father at his right and the doctor at his left. Madame Cardonnet was sitting opposite him, gazing anxiously into his face.

Emile was very pale, but his condition was in no wise alarming. He rose and went to meet Monsieur de Boisguilbault, who, after embracing him affectionately, bowed low to Madame Cardonnet and with less warmth to Monsieur Cardonnet. For a few moments there was no talk of aught save the invalid's health. He had had a sharp attack of fever and had been bled the night before; he had passed a comfortable night, and in the morning the fever had entirely disappeared. They were urging him to go for a drive in the cabriolet, and he was contemplating making a call upon Monsieur de Boisguilbault when that gentleman entered.

The marquis had learned all the details of his illness from the carpenter, who had carefully concealed them from Gilberte. There was no longer any ground for fear. The doctor observed that his patient needed a good dinner, and took his leave with the remark that he should come the next day only to satisfy his conscience.

Monsieur de Boisguilbault meanwhile kept a close watch on Monsieur Cardonnet's face. He detected there an expression of triumph rather than of joy. Doubtless the manufacturer had trembled at the idea of losing his son, but, that fear being dissipated, the victory was won: Emile could endure grief.

For his part Monsieur Cardonnet examined the marquis's strange figure and considered it supremely ridiculous. His gravity and his moderation in speaking were the more annoying to him because Monsieur de Boisguilbault, being in reality more embarrassed than he chose to appear, simply made commonplace remarks in a most sententious tone. The manufacturer, after a few moments, bowed to him again and left the room to return to his business. Thereupon, Madame Cardonnet, divining from Emile's restlessness that he desired to talk with his old friend in private, left them together, after urging her son not to talk too much.

"Well," said Emile when they were alone, "you can bring me the martyr's crown! I have passed through the ordeal of fire; but God protects those who call upon him, and I have come out of it with clean hands and with no apparent burns: a little used up, to be sure, but calm and full of faith in the future. This morning, in full possession of my reasoning power and in perfect tranquillity of mind, I told my father what I had told him in the excitement, perhaps the delirium, of fever. He knows now that I shall never renounce my opinions, and that no fooling with my passion can procure him that triumph. He seems quite satisfied; for he thinks that he has succeeded in disgusting me with a marriage which he dreaded more than the fervor of my principles. He talked this morning about distracting my thoughts, sending me abroad, to Italy. I told him that I did not wish to leave France, nor this neighborhood even, unless he turned me out of his house. He smiled, and would not contradict me, because I was bled yesterday; but to-morrow he will talk to me in the character of the stern friend, the day after to-morrow as the irritated father, and the next day as the imperious master. Don't be alarmed about me, my friend; I shall be brave, calm and patient. Whether he condemns me to exile, or keeps me with him to torture me, I will show him that love is very strong when it is inspired by enthusiasm for the true, and sustained by the ideal."

"Emile," said the marquis, "I know through your friend Jean all that has taken place between your father and yourself, also the great victory that your heart has won. My mind was at rest before I came here."

"I knew, my friend, that you had become reconciled with that simple-hearted but admirable man. He told me that you were coming to see me; I was expecting you."

"Did he tell you nothing more?" said the marquis, gazing intently at Emile.

"No, nothing more, I assure you," Emile replied, with the emphasis of perfect sincerity.

"He did well to keep his promise," rejoined Monsieur de Boisguilbault; "you were too much excited by fever to endure fresh emotion. I have undergone violent emotions myself since we last met, but I am satisfied with the result, and I will tell you what it is. But not yet, Emile; you are too pale, and I am not sure enough of myself as yet. Don't come and see me to-day; I have other places to go to, and perhaps I will see you again when I return this way to-night. Will you promise me to eat some dinner and take care of yourself--in a word, to get well?"

"I promise, my friend. If I only could send word to the woman I love that, on resuming the free exercise of my life and my faculties, I find my love more ardent and more absolute than ever in the depths of my heart."

"Very well, Emile, write a few lines; not enough to tire you. I will come again to-night, and, if she doesn't live too far away, I will undertake to send your letter to her."

"Alas! my friend, I cannot tell you her name; but if the carpenter would take charge of it, now that I have recovered my strength and am no longer watched every moment, I could write."

"Write then, seal your letter, and do not address it The carpenter is working for me, and he shall have the letter before night."

While the young man was writing, Monsieur de Boisguilbault left the room and asked to speak with Monsieur Cardonnet. He was told that he had just driven away in his cabriolet.

"Do you know where I can find him?" asked the marquis, half convinced by this hurried departure.

He had not said where he was going, but they thought to Châteaubrun, as he had taken that road, and as he had been there the week before.

Upon receiving this reply, Monsieur de Boisguilbault displayed surprising activity. He returned to Emile's room, took the letter, felt his pulse, found that he was a little excited, mounted his horse, and rode out of the village quietly as he had come. But he urged his horse to a gallop as soon as he was on level ground.

XXXV

ABSOLUTION

Meanwhile Monsieur Cardonnet had arrived at Châteaubrun, and was in presence of Gilberte, her father and Janille.

"Monsieur de Châteaubrun," he said, taking a seat with perfect self-possession amid those three persons, who were filled with consternation by a visit which boded fresh unhappiness, "you know doubtless all that has taken place between my son and myself with regard to mademoiselle your daughter. My son has had the good taste and the good sense to choose her for his wife. Mademoiselle, and you, monsieur, have had the extreme kindness to accept his attentions, without any very definite knowledge as to whether I approve them."

At this point Janille made an angry gesture, Gilberte lowered her eyes and turned pale, and Monsieur Antoine flushed and opened his mouth to interrupt Monsieur Cardonnet. But he, giving him no time to do so, continued thus:

"I did not approve of this union at first, I agree: but I came here, I saw mademoiselle, and I yielded--on very mild and simple conditions. My son is ultra-democratic in his notions, and I am a moderate conservative. I foresaw that his exaggerated opinions would ruin his intellect and his credit. I demanded that he should abandon them and return to judicious and decent ideas. I thought that I could easily obtain that sacrifice. I rejoiced over it in anticipation; I announced it to you as indubitable in a letter addressed to mademoiselle; but, to my great surprise, Emile persists in his madness, and sacrifices to it a love which I believed to be deeper and more devoted. I am forced, therefore, to tell you that he renounced mademoiselle's hand irrevocably this morning, and I thought it my duty to inform you immediately, in order that, being fully aware of his intentions and my own, you should have no ground for accusing me of irresolution and imprudence. Whether it seems fitting to you now to authorize his love and to permit his attentions, is for you to say; I wash my hands of it."

"Monsieur Cardonnet," said Antoine, who had risen, "I know all this, and I know, also, that you never lack fine phrases to make sport of us; but I say that, if you are so well informed, it is because you sent spies into our house and lackeys to insult us by revolting offers for my daughter's hand. You have already caused us much distress by your diplomacy, and we request you, without ceremony, to stop where you are. We are not simple enough not to understand that you do not propose to unite your wealth with our poverty at any price. We have not been deceived by your devious manœuvres, and when you invented the extraordinary scheme of placing your son between a moral submission, which is impossible so far as his opinions are concerned, and a marriage to which you would not have consented, even if he had been willing to descend to falsehood, we swore that we would have no falsehood and no dissimulation between him and you and ourselves. Allow me to tell you, therefore, that we know very well what it befits us to do; that I am quite as well able to protect my daughter's honor and dignity as you are to protect your son's wealth, and that I have no occasion for advice or lessons from anybody in that regard."

Having spoken thus with a firmness which Monsieur Cardonnet was far from expecting on the part of the _old sot of Châteaubrun_, Monsieur Antoine resumed his seat and looked the manufacturer in the eye. Gilberte felt as if she were dying; but she thought it her duty to support with her pride the just pride of her father. She too looked Monsieur Cardonnet in the face, and her glance seemed to confirm all that Monsieur Antoine had said.

Janille, unable to contain herself any longer, deemed it her duty to speak.

"Never fear, monsieur," she said, "we can get along very well without your name. We have one which is quite as good; and as for the matter of money, we had more glory in losing what we had than you in making what you didn't have."

"I know, Mademoiselle Janille," retorted Monsieur Cardonnet, with the artificial calmness of profound contempt, "that you are very proud of the name Monsieur de Châteaubrun has bestowed on your daughter. For my own part, I would not have been so proud, and would have closed my eyes to certain irregularities of birth; but I can imagine that the fortune of a plebeian, acquired by hard labor, may seem contemptible to a person born, as you apparently were, in the splendors of idleness. It only remains for me to wish you all much joy, and to ask mademoiselle's pardon for having caused her some slight grief. My wrongdoing was unintentional, but I think that I can atone for it by a bit of sound advice: remember that young people who venture to make free with the wishes of their parents are sometimes intoxicated by an ephemeral caprice rather than inspired by an enduring passion. Emile's conduct with regard to her proves what I say, I think, and I am a little ashamed for him."

"Enough, Monsieur Cardonnet, enough, do you hear?" exclaimed Monsieur Antoine, really angry for the first time in his life: "I should blush to have so much wit as you, if I made so unworthy a use of it as to insult a young girl, and outrage her father in her presence. I trust that you understand me, and that----"

"Monsieur Antoine! Mademoiselle Janille!" cried Sylvain Charasson, rushing into the room; "here's Monsieur de Boisguilbault coming to see you! as true as the sun's shining! it's Monsieur de Boisguilbault! I saw his white horse and his yellow spectacles!"

This unexpected news excited Monsieur de Châteaubrun so that he forgot all his anger, and overwhelmed by a sort of childish delight mingled with terror, he went out with faltering step to meet his old friend.

But as he was about to throw himself into his arms, he was petrified with dread and, as it were, paralyzed by the marquis's impassive face and his courteous but sad salute. Trembling and heart-broken, Monsieur Antoine seized his daughter's arm in a convulsive grasp, uncertain whether he should push her toward Monsieur de Boisguilbault as a pledge of reconciliation, or send her away as a crushing proof of his sin.

Janille, completely bewildered, courtesied again and again to the marquis, who glanced absent-mindedly in her direction and bowed almost imperceptibly to her.

"Monsieur Cardonnet," he said, as he stood in the door of the square pavilion face to face with the manufacturer, who came out last, "I fancy that you are going away, and I came here expressly to meet you. You left your house just as I went to look for you, and I hurried after you. I beg you therefore to remain a little while, and to be good enough to give me your attention for a few moments."

"We will talk somewhere else, monsieur le marquis," replied Cardonnet, "for I cannot stay here any longer: suppose we go down to the foot of the mountain?"

"No, monsieur, no, permit me to insist: what I have to say is of some importance, and everybody here must hear it. It seems clear to me that I have not arrived soon enough to prevent some unpleasant explanations; but you are a man of affairs, Monsieur Cardonnet, and you know that it is the custom to summon a family council upon matters of serious importance at which momentous interests are discussed coolly, even when the participants bring to the council some little passion in the depths of their hearts. Monsieur le Comte de Châteaubrun, I beg you to detain Monsieur Cardonnet--it is quite essential. I am old and ill, I may not have the strength to come here again, to take such a journey. You are young men compared with me; I ask you therefore to be calm and considerate and to spare me much fatigue. Will you refuse me?"

The marquis spoke this time with an ease and grace which made him an entirely different man from him whom Monsieur Cardonnet had seen an hour earlier. He was conscious of a feeling of curiosity, not unmixed with a prudent regard for his own interests. Monsieur de Châteaubrun requested him to remain, and they all returned to the pavilion, with the exception of Janille, to whom Monsieur Antoine made a sign, and who took her place behind the kitchen door to listen.

Gilberte was uncertain whether she ought to go in or remain outside; but Monsieur de Boisguilbault offered her his hand with much courtesy, and, leading her to a chair, sat down near her, at some distance from her father and Emile's.

"To proceed in order, and in accordance with the respect due to ladies," he began, "I will first address myself to Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun.--Mademoiselle, I made my will last night, and I have come here to inform you as to its provisions and conditions; but I should be glad not to be refused this time, and I shall not have the courage to read you this scrawl unless you will promise not to be angry. You also laid down certain conditions in a letter which I have here and which caused me much pain. However, I consider them just, and I understand your unwillingness to accept the most trivial gift from a man whom you consider your father's enemy. In order to prevail upon you, therefore, it is necessary that this hostility should come to an end, and that monsieur your father should forgive me for whatever wrong I may have done him.--Monsieur de Châteaubrun," he said, rising with heroic courage, "you injured me many years ago; I retaliated by withdrawing my friendship from you without any explanation. We should either have fought or forgiven each other. We did not fight, but for twenty years we have been strangers, which is a more serious matter to two men who have been much attached to each other. I forgive you the wrong you did me, will you forgive me?"

"Oh! marquis!" cried Monsieur Antoine, rushing to him and bending his knee before him, "you never wronged me in any way. You were my best friend. You were like a father to me, and I insulted you mortally. I would have offered my bare breast to you if you would have run me through with your sword, and I would never have raised my hand against you. You did not choose to take my life, but you punished me much more cruelly by withdrawing your friendship from me. And now you offer me your forgiveness. I receive it on my knees, in presence of my friends and my enemies, since this humiliation is the only reparation I can offer you. You, Monsieur Cardonnet," he said, rising and eying the manufacturer from head to foot, "are at liberty to sneer at what you cannot understand; but I do not offer my bare breast and my arm without a weapon to everybody, as you will soon know."

Monsieur Cardonnet also had risen, darting threatening glances at Monsieur Antoine. The marquis placed himself between them and said to Antoine:

"Monsieur le comte, I do not know what has taken place between Monsieur Cardonnet and you; but you have offered me a reparation which I reject. I choose to believe that there was wrong on both sides, and I wish to see you not at my feet but in my arms; but since you consider that you owe me an act of submission which my age justifies, I require you, before I embrace you, to be reconciled to Monsieur Cardonnet, and to take the first step in that direction."

"Impossible!" cried Antoine, convulsively pressing the marquis's arm, half in joy, half in anger. "Monsieur has just spoken to my daughter in a most insulting way."

"No, that cannot be," said the marquis; "there has been a misunderstanding. I am acquainted with Monsieur Cardonnet's sentiments; his character is inconsistent with an act of cowardice. Monsieur Cardonnet, I am certain that you are as familiar with the point of honor as any nobleman; and you have just seen two noblemen, who had cruelly wounded each other, become reconciled before your eyes, without blushing for their mutual concessions. Be generous, and prove to us that it is not the name that makes nobility. I bring you words of peace and means of reconciliation. Permit me to put your hand in Monsieur de Châteaubrun's. Come; you won't refuse an old man on the verge of the grave. Mademoiselle Gilberte, come to my aid; say a word to your father."

The phrase _means of reconciliation_ had echoed loudly in Monsieur Cardonnet's ear. His penetrating mind had already guessed a part of the truth. He thought that he would be obliged to yield, and that it would be better to carry off the honors of war than to undergo the necessity of capitulation.

"My intentions were very different from what Monsieur de Châteaubrun supposes," he said, "and there has always been in my thoughts so much respect and esteem for mademoiselle his daughter, that I do not hesitate to disavow any words of mine that can possibly be interpreted otherwise. I beg Mademoiselle Gilberte to be convinced of my sincerity, and I offer her father my hand as a pledge of the oath I take."

"Enough, monsieur, let us say no more about it!" said Monsieur Antoine, taking his hand; "let us part without hard feeling. Antoine de Châteaubrun has never known what it is to lie."

"That is true," thought Monsieur de Boisguilbault; "if he had been more cunning, I should have been blind--and happy, like so many others.--I thank you, Antoine," he said aloud, in a trembling voice. "Now, come and embrace me!"

The count's embrace was passionate and enthusiastic; the marquis's calm and constrained. He was playing a part beyond his strength; he turned pale, trembled, and was forced to sit down. Antoine sat beside him, his breast shaken with sobs. Gilberte knelt in front of the marquis and covered his hands with kisses, weeping with joy and gratitude.

All this display and emotion disgusted the manufacturer, who looked on with a cold, supercilious eye, awaiting the _means of reconciliation_.

At last Monsieur de Boisguilbault drew them from his pocket and read them in a clear, distinct voice.

He set forth in a few clear, concise words that he possessed about four million and a half francs; that he gave, by contract, two millions to Mademoiselle Gilberte de Châteaubrun, on condition that she married Monsieur Emile Cardonnet, and two millions to Monsieur Emile Cardonnet, on condition that he married Mademoiselle Gilberte de Châteaubrun, both of said gifts to take effect at Monsieur de Boisguilbault's death, but to be void unless the marriage should be celebrated within six months. Monsieur de Boisguilbault reserved the usufruct of these four millions during his own life, but he gave five hundred thousand francs outright to the future husband and wife, said gift to be effectual on their wedding-day. The said last-named sum, however, was to be given to Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun for her own use if she did not marry Monsieur Emile Cardonnet.

A feeble cry was heard behind the door; it was Janille, fainting with joy in Sylvain Charasson's arms.

XXXVI

RECONCILIATION

Gilberte had no comprehension of what was happening to her; she had no idea of what a fortune of four millions was, and the thought of such a burden imposed upon a life so simple and happy as hers would have caused her more fear than joy; but she realized that her union with Emile had become a possibility once more, and, being unable to speak, she pressed Monsieur de Boisguilbault's hand convulsively in her own. Antoine was completely bewildered to find his daughter so rich. His joy was no greater than hers, but he saw in the marquis's conduct such an overwhelming proof of his forgiveness, that he believed that he must be dreaming and could find nothing to say to him.

Cardonnet was the only person present who really understood what it was to have four millions and a half fall into the laps of his future grandchildren. However, he did not lose his head, but listened impassively to the reading of the will, and, not choosing to appear to humble himself before the power of gold, he said coldly:

"I see that Monsieur de Boisguilbault is determined that the father's will shall bow before that of the friend; but Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun's poverty has never seemed to me a serious obstacle to this marriage. There is another which is much more repugnant to me, namely, that she is a natural child, and that there is every reason to believe that her mother--I will not call her by name--occupies an inferior position in society."

"You are in error, Monsieur Cardonnet," rejoined Monsieur de Boisguilbault, firmly. "Mademoiselle Janille's morals have always been beyond reproach, and, in my opinion, you do wrong to despise a person so loyal and devoted to the objects of her affection. But the truth demands that I set you right in this respect. I solemnly assure you, monsieur, that Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun is of unmixed noble blood, if that fact will give you any pleasure. I will even say that I knew her mother intimately, and that she was of as good a family as my own. Now, Monsieur Cardonnet, have you any other objection to make? Do you think that Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun's character can possibly inspire repugnance or suspicion in any one?"

"Most assuredly not, monsieur le marquis," Cardonnet replied; "and yet I hesitate still. It seems to me that the paternal authority and dignity are impaired by such a contract; that my consent seems to be purchased for a money consideration; and, while I had but one ambition for my son, to see him acquire wealth by his labor and his talent, I see that you raise him to the very apex of fortune, with a life of inaction and idleness before him."

"I hope that it will not be so," said Monsieur de Boisguilbault. "My reason for choosing Emile for my heir is that I am confident that he will not resemble me in any way, and that he will be able to make a better use of wealth than I have done."

Cardonnet simply desired an excuse for yielding. He said to himself that, by refusing, he should alienate his son forever, and that, by consenting with a good grace, he might recover enough influence over him to teach him to use his wealth according to his, the father's ideas: that is to say, he reckoned that, with four millions in hand, he might some day have forty; and he was convinced that no man, even a saint, can suddenly find himself the possessor of four millions without taking a liking to wealth. "He will make a fool of himself at first," he thought, "and will throw away part of his treasure; and, when he sees that it is growing less, he will be so frightened that he will try to make up the deficit; and then, as appetite comes to those who consent to eat, he will want to multiply it by two, by ten, by a hundred. With my help, he and I may be the kings of the financial world some day."

"I have no right," he said at last, "to refuse the fortune offered to my son. I would do it if I could, because the whole transaction is contrary to my opinions and my ideas; but the right of property is a sacred law. As soon as my son receives such a gift, he is a property-holder. I should rob him by refusing my assent to the conditions laid down. I am bound, therefore, to hold my peace forever concerning all that offends my convictions in this extraordinary arrangement; and, since I am compelled to yield, I desire, at all events, to do it gracefully, especially as Mademoiselle Gilberte's beauty, intellect and noble character flatter my egotism by promising happiness to my family."

"As we are all agreed," said Monsieur de Boisguilbault, rising and making a signal through the window, "I will beg Mademoiselle Gilberte, who has, like myself, a fondness for flowers, to accept the betrothal bouquet."

The marquis's groom entered and put down the little casket he had brought. Monsieur de Boisguilbault took from it a bouquet of the rarest and most fragrant flowers; old Martin had spent more than an hour in arranging it artistically. But, by way of ribbon, the bouquet was tied with the necklace of diamonds which Gilberte had returned; and, to take the place of the shawl, which the marquis had not deemed it advisable to produce again, he had put two rows instead of one in the necklace.

"Oho! two or three thousand francs in addition to what the contract calls for!" thought Monsieur Cardonnet, pretending to look at the diamonds with indifference.

"Now," said Monsieur de Boisguilbault to Gilberte, "you can refuse me nothing, as I have done what you wished. I suggest that you and your father take your carriage--the same barrow that was so useful to me and that procured me the happiness of your acquaintance. We will go to Gargilesse. I fancy that Monsieur Cardonnet desires to present his daughter-in-law to his wife, and, for my part, I am most anxious that my heiress should win her heart."

Monsieur Cardonnet welcomed the suggestion eagerly, and they were about to start when Emile appeared. He had learned that his father had gone to Châteaubrun; he dreaded some new plot against his happiness and Gilberte's peace of mind. He had leaped upon his horse, and forgetting his loss of blood, his fever and his promises to the marquis, he arrived at the ruins, trembling, breathless, and oppressed by the gloomiest forebodings.

"Well, Emile, here is your wife already dressed for the wedding," said Monsieur Cardonnet, divining the explanation of his imprudence. And he pointed to Gilberte, covered with flowers and diamonds, on Monsieur de Boisguilbault's arm.

Emile, whose nerves were terribly tense and agitated, was like one thunderstruck amid all the miracles that burst upon him at once. He tried to speak, staggered and fell fainting in Monsieur Antoine's arms.

Happiness rarely kills; Emile soon returned to life and bliss. Janille rubbed his temples with vinegar, Gilberte held his hand in hers, and, that nothing might be lacking in his joy, his mother, too, was there when he opened his eyes. Made acquainted very recently, by Emile's delirium, with his passion for Gilberte, she had made Galuchet tell her the whole story, and, learning that her husband had gone to Châteaubrun, and that her son had ridden thither notwithstanding his condition, and foreseeing some terrible storm, she had driven at full speed to the ruins, defying for the first time her husband's wrath, and the bad roads, to which she paid no heed. She fell in love with Gilberte at the first words they exchanged, and if the young girl felt some alarm at the thought of entering a family of which Cardonnet was the head, she was sure that she should find some compensation in his wife's loving heart and gentle nature.

"As we are all together," said Monsieur de Boisguilbault, with a grace of which no one would have believed him capable, "we must pass the rest of the day together and dine somewhere. There are too many of us not to cause Mademoiselle Janille some embarrassment here, and if we should return to Gargilesse we might take Monsieur Cardonnet's butler unawares. If you will all do me the honor to come to Boisguilbault, which, by the way, is much nearer, we shall find there the materials for dining, I think. Perhaps Monsieur Cardonnet will take some interest in becoming acquainted with his children's property, we will draw up their marriage contract there and appoint a day for the wedding."

This new evidence of the marquis's complete conversion was received with great warmth. Janille asked but five minutes to make _mademoiselle's_ toilet, for she thought that she should be ceremoniously attired for the occasion, but Gilberte greeted with a hearty kiss what she called a joke on the part of her fond mother.

"_I thank you, Antoine," the marquis said, in a trembling voice. "Now, come and embrace me!_"

_The count's embrace was passionate and enthusiastic; the marquis's calm and constrained._]

Meanwhile, the Cardonnet family inspected the ruins, and Monsieur de Boisguilbault retired with Antoine to the pavilion to rest. No one heard their conversation. Neither of them ever divulged its subject. Did they exchange delicate and seemingly impossible explanations? It is hardly probable. Did they agree never thereafter to make the slightest allusion to their long feud, and to take up their friendship just where they had dropped it? It is certain that, from that moment, they talked together of the past without bitterness, and referred to former years with pleasure, sometimes blended with emotion and with merriment. But it was noticeable that these reminiscences never went beyond a certain date--that of Monsieur de Boisguilbault's marriage--and that the name of the marchioness was never mentioned between them. It was as if she had never existed.

When Gilberte returned, dressed as handsomely as she was able or wished to be, Emile was overjoyed to see that she had put on the lilac dress, which one more washing by Janille had made almost pink, and which, owing to the miracles of her economy and skill, still seemed fresh. She had braided her long hair, which reached to the ground, and in that superb _abandon_ reminded her happy lover of the scorching day at Crozant. Of Monsieur de Boisguilbault's gifts she had retained only the bouquet and the cornelian ring, which she showed to the marquis with an affectionate smile. She was coquettish with him, coquettish with the heart, if we may so express it; and while the deference and consideration which she manifested toward Monsieur Cardonnet were somewhat forced, she yielded ingenuously to the inclination to treat the marquis, in her manner and in her thoughts, as if he were Emile's father.

As they were about to start, Monsieur de Boisguilbault took Janille's hand and invited her to drive with him, as courteously as if she had been Gilberte's mother. He was so far from being offended by hearing them call each other _mother_ and _my girl_, that that close attachment had suddenly inspired in him a great esteem and secret gratitude for the old woman who had submitted to so much slander and vulgar jesting rather than reveal to anybody on earth, even friend Jappeloup--whom the marquis had for so long a time believed to be Antoine's confidant and messenger,--the secret of Gilberte's birth.

Monsieur Cardonnet could not restrain a disdainful smile at this invitation.

"Monsieur Cardonnet," said Monsieur de Boisguilbault in an undertone, remarking that smile, "you will know and appreciate that woman when you see how she brings up your grandchildren."

The park of Boisguilbault was thrown open for the first time in its history to a party invited by the owner. The chalet too was thrown open, with the exception of the study, the door of which was securely fastened, thanks to Jappeloup.

The imposing melancholy of the château, the curious beauty of the furniture, the magnificence of the park, and the noticeable air of good breeding in the service, caused Monsieur Cardonnet some vexation. He had done his utmost at Gargilesse to exclude parvenu manners from his household, and amid the ruins of Châteaubrun, where he had felt that he was a personage of consequence, he had not been very ill at ease. But he seemed very small indeed amid the mixture of opulence and severe simplicity that characterized Boisguilbault. He tried, by _liberal_ reflections, to prevent the marquis from thinking that he was dazzled by his old-fashioned splendor. Monsieur de Boisguilbault, who did not lack cunning beneath his awkwardness, and who had waited until that moment to put before him the most distasteful of his demands, answered him calmly and coincided with his opinions. Cardonnet expressed great surprise, for, in common with everybody else, he supposed that the marquis had retained all the pride of his caste and clung to the absurd principles of the Restoration. As he could not refrain from expressing his astonishment, Monsieur de Boisguilbault said to him gently:

"You do not know me, Monsieur Cardonnet; I am as much opposed to distinctions and privileges as yourself. I believe that all men are equal in rights and in worth, when they are honorable and virtuous."

At that moment, dinner was announced, and, as they were about to take their places, Master Jean Jappeloup, cleanly shaved and in his Sunday clothes, came out of the chalet, and playfully pushing Emile aside, took Gilberte's hand to lead her to the table.

"It is my right," he said; "you know I promised to be your witness and your best man, Emile."

Everybody welcomed the carpenter joyfully, except Monsieur Cardonnet, who dared not however display less liberality under the circumstances than the old marquis; so he contented himself with a satirical smile as he saw him take his place at the family banquet. He submitted to everything, promising himself that he would change his tone when the marriage was consummated.

The dinner, served under the old trees in the park, was magnificent with flowers and exquisite in respect to the dishes; and old Martin, whom his master had forewarned early in the morning, surpassed himself in superintending the service. Sylvain Charasson was admitted to the honor of working under his orders that day, and he will talk about it all his life.

The first moments were rather constrained. But little by little the faction of the contented and happy triumphed over that of the discontented,--which consisted of Monsieur Cardonnet alone and he was half reconciled,--the table became more animated, and at dessert Monsieur Cardonnet said to Emile, with a smile: "_We marquises_----"

Shall we speak of the happiness of Emile and Gilberte? Happiness cannot be described, and even lovers themselves lack words with which to depict it. When it was night, Monsieur and Madame de Cardonnet took their leave, graciously authorizing Emile to escort his fiancée to Châteaubrun, on condition that he should keep his father's cabriolet, and not ride again that day. Monsieur Antoine, absorbed in a joyful conversation with his friend Jean, wandered about the park, and Janille, beginning to tire of playing the lady, satisfied her craving for action by assisting Martin to put everything in order. Thereupon, Monsieur de Boisguilbault took Emile's arm and Gilberte's and led them to the cliff where he had first opened his heart to his young friend.

"My children," he said to them, "I have made you rich, because it was necessary to do it in order to overcome the obstacles that separated you, and because it was the only means of making you happy. My will was made a long while ago, but last night I rewrote it. My purpose remains what it was: I believe that Emile knows it and that Gilberte will respect it. I have determined that, in the future, this great estate shall be used to found a _commune_, and in my first will I tried to provide a plan for it, and to lay its foundations. But the plan might well be defective and the foundations unsubstantial; I do not regret my work, because I have always felt that it was weak and that I am of all men on earth the man least capable of planning and carrying out. Providence came to my aid by sending Emile to me to take my place in realizing my plans, and I had recently made him my sole trustee and the executor of my will. But such a disposition of my property would have made it impossible to obtain Monsieur Cardonnet's consent, and I destroyed it when I determined that you two should marry. Official documents have not the value commonly attributed to them, and the law has never found the means of fettering the conscience. That is why I am much more tranquil in my mind when I simply tell you what I wish and receive your promise, than I should be if I bound you by chains so fragile as those of the provisions of a will. Do not answer, my children! I know your thoughts, I know your hearts. You have been subjected to the harshest of all tests, that of abandoning the idea of being united or of abjuring your opinions; you have come out of it triumphantly; I rely absolutely upon you and I leave the future in your hands. It is your intention to put your opinions in practice, Emile, and I furnish you with the instruments; but that does not mean that you have the ability as yet. For that you need knowledge of social science, and that is the result of long-continued labor to which you will apply yourself with the aid of the forces which your generation, not mine, will develop more or less successfully, as God wills. It may be that you will not see my plans come to maturity, my children; perhaps your children will; but, in bequeathing you my wealth, I bequeath you my heart and my faith. You will bequeath it to others, if you have to pass through a phase in the existence of mankind which makes it impracticable for you to found the establishment advantageously. But Emile once said something that impressed me. One day when I asked him what he would do with an estate like mine, he answered: '_I would try_!' Let him try then, and, after careful reflection, after a careful study of reality, may he who has always dreamed of the salvation of mankind in the organization and development of agricultural science, find the means of transition which will prevent a deplorable break in the chain between the past and the future!

"I trust to his intelligence because it has its source in the heart. May God give you genius, Emile, and may He give it to the men of your time! for the genius of one man is almost nothing. For my part, I have nothing more to do but to fall asleep peacefully in my grave. If I am privileged to live a few days with you two, I shall have begun to live on the eve of my death. But I shall not have lived in vain, indolent, disheartened and useless as I have been, if I have found the man who can and will act in my place.

"Keep the secret of my opinions and our plans until after your marriage, and even until after the new and thorough education which Emile must make it his duty to acquire. I aspire to see you free and powerful, in order that I may die at peace. And after all, my children, whatever course you may take, whatever errors you may commit, whatever success may crown your efforts, I confess that it is impossible for me to be anxious concerning the future of the world. In vain will the tempest rage over the generations now born or to be born; in vain will error and falsehood labor to perpetuate the horrible confusion which certain minds call to-day, in derision apparently, social order; in vain will wickedness wage war on earth; eternal truth will have its day at last. And if my spirit is able to return, a few centuries hence, to visit this immense heritage and glide beneath the venerable trees that my hand planted, it will see men free, happy, equal, united, that is to say, just and wise! These shaded paths where I have walked so often, oppressed by ennui and sorrow, whither I have fled in horror from the presence of the men of to-day, will shelter then, like the arched roof of a divine temple, a numerous family kneeling to pray and bless the Author of nature and the Father of mankind! This will be the _garden of the commune_, that is to say, its gynæceum, its festal and banqueting hall, its theatre and its church; for speak not to me of the cramped spaces where stone and cement pen up men and thought; nor of your superb colonnades and magnificent squares, in comparison with this natural architecture, of which the Supreme Creator bears all the expense! I have expressed in the trees and flowers, in the brooks, in the cliffs and fields all the poetry of my thoughts. Do not rob the old planter of his illusion, if illusion it be. He still believes in the adage that God is in everything and that Nature is His temple!"

LEONE LEONI

INTRODUCTION