Chapter XIII: The Vagrant Again

Edouard returned to the Château of La Roche-Noire, unmindful of the length of the walk he had taken. When a man is falling in love, he is so preoccupied that he is never bored; that is some slight recompense, at all events, for the torments which love sometimes causes.

Edouard met Alfred in the courtyard.

"You went out very early, did you not?" observed young De Marcey, gazing fixedly at his friend; "when I got up I asked for you, and they told me that you had been gone more than an hour. The devil! you are an early bird! I confess that last night’s ball tired me a little; there’s no end to those _bourrées_, and the damsels of Auvergne are no light weights.--I’ll wager that I can guess where you’ve been--toward the White House, eh? You wanted to see little Isaure again?"

"No, I haven’t been in that direction; I have been walking about the neighborhood; it’s a lovely country.--Indeed, what is the sense of trying to see that young girl again? It seems to me that it is useless, to say the least."

"Useless to see a girl who’s as pretty as the Loves! For my part, I think on the contrary that it’s a most excellent way to employ one’s time."

"It is just because she is so pretty that it may be a dangerous business. You especially, Alfred, who take fire so easily, would be capable of falling in love, that is to say, of taking a fancy to this village maiden.--I cannot think, however, that you intend to seduce her."

"You cannot think!--you cannot think!--Look here, my dear Edouard, do you propose to give me a course of moral lectures?--So far as I am concerned, I have no plans as yet; but still that little girl is pretty--I mean to see her again, and if she takes to me--faith, come what come may!--Where would be the harm, after all?"

"That girl is virtuous and innocent, and you would disturb her tranquillity! You would seek to arouse a sentiment which you will not feel a week, and then you would abandon her to her grief! That would be ghastly!"

"You are becoming romantic, Edouard.--In the first place, you say that this girl is virtuous--which is not absolutely demonstrated. Her peculiar situation--what people say about her--and the difference between her manners and those of her neighbors, give rise to many conjectures. But still, assume that she is virtuous--at any moment, some peasant, some clown, may fall in love with her and attract her; why then are you unwilling that I should try to be as fortunate as one of these country bumpkins? Furthermore, my dear fellow, if we were always guided by such reflections, we should never have the least little love affair, and we should always go about with downcast eyes for fear of meeting a charming woman and of conceiving evil thoughts!--It would be magnificent, I agree; but what can you expect? perfection is not in human nature; our first parents yielded to temptation, and I shall never have the self-command to be more virtuous than they were!"

Edouard said no more; he would have liked to be able to conceal the vexation he felt, and he was about to leave Alfred, when Robineau appeared, followed by several workmen whom François had brought from the town.

"The thing to be done, my boys," said Robineau, "is to make this château over new--or, at least, something like it. The rooms are certainly too dark, the hangings too old, the windows too small, and the stairways too rickety. Repair, replace, pull down, paint, paste; and, above all things, work fast. I will pay you--like a grand seigneur.--François, show these fellows where to begin; you know my plans."

"What, my friend!" said Alfred; "are you going to repair the whole château?"

"No, not the whole of it; but at all events the part I shall occupy, and where I shall receive company. As for the North Tower, that may remain as it is; I shall never go there.--Next, we must dig up the whole garden and replant it. Do you suppose that I can receive the best society of Saint-Amand, and take them to walk among beet greens? I should give them a fine idea of my taste!--I am going to spend a lot of money, to be sure, but a rich marriage will repay it all."

"Are you thinking of marriage already?"

"Faith, yes! In my opinion, marriage gives a man ballast, consideration. However, we will see about that.--But I am going to Saint-Amand; you will come with me, I hope?"

Alfred hesitated--he had another plan in mind. Edouard, observing his hesitation, made haste to say:

"Yes, yes; let’s go to Saint-Amand. They say it’s a very pretty town, and we must become acquainted with the townspeople."

After a moment’s reflection, Alfred agreed to go. Monsieur Cunette came forward, bowing to the ground before his master, whose feet he was ready to kiss, and announced that the cabriolet was ready.

"What’s that? have you a cabriolet?"

"Yes--that is to say, a sort of little carriole. Monsieur Cheval procured it for me; it is very neat, and it will be better than to go such a short distance in a post-chaise."

"Where did you find a horse?"

"Monsieur Férulus has lent me one belonging to the father of one of his pupils."

"That is to say, the father of the pupil lends it to you."

"I mean to buy some horses at once. Come, messieurs, let us breakfast at once, and start for Saint-Amand. I have notified the notary of my visit, and I am sure that the whole town expects us."

Breakfast over, they got into the carriole, which jolted them somewhat; but the horse was strong and it was not long before they espied the ruins of the fortifications that surrounded Saint-Amand; soon after, they entered the town, but to Robineau’s astonishment the inhabitants were not standing at their doorways.

While the new landed proprietor betook himself to the notary’s, Alfred and Edouard strolled about the town, of which they soon made the circuit. Robineau joined them on the public square; his face was radiant with joy. The notary had told him that people were talking a great deal about him in the neighborhood, and had invited him to dine on the following day because he wished to introduce him to the most notable people of the town. Lastly, he had his pockets full of letters of introduction, and as he had already told the notary that it was his intention to marry, the notary had promised him three balls and four large receptions for the following week.

"I did not forget you, my friends," said Robineau in conclusion.

"Do you propose to find wives for us, too?" said Alfred.

"That isn’t what I mean. Although if you wish it--it seems that in the provinces there is a good deal of marrying; but I said that I had brought two young men with me from Paris, one very wealthy, and the other very bright."

"Which means that the one who is rich is a stupid fool, I suppose?"

"No, not that! But I was asked if you were bachelors, too, and upon my replying in the affirmative, I was strongly urged to bring you to dinner with me, and----"

"You are very kind, Monsieur Jules; but we have no desire to play a scene or two from _La Petite Ville_; you will have to dine without us."

"As you please, messieurs. But there is nothing further to keep us here; let us return to my château. I must go back and hurry up my workmen. I have already told the notary that before long I would give a large party, dinner, ball, fire-works and Bengal fire, like the Tivoli at Paris. I must go back and have the beets pulled up."

They entered the carriage once more and drove back to the château. Robineau was in raptures; he dreamed of nothing but balls, parties, weddings; he imagined all the women in the town disputing for his favors, and all the unmarried girls making soft eyes at him. While he imagined all this, he did not notice that his two companions were not listening to him, but that, absorbed by their own reflections, Alfred and Edouard were thinking of something very different from the parties he proposed to give, at which he had no idea of dancing and drinking with the peasants of the neighborhood.

They were near the château, when Robineau uttered an exclamation which roused his companions from their reflections.

"That man again! always that man! He is my _bête noire_! I don’t know why, but I would rather see a wolf than that tall vagabond!"

The young men looked up and saw the poverty-stricken traveller seated on the ground a short distance from the château, at which he seemed to be gazing as attentively as on the day before.

"Ah, it is the man with the knotted stick!" said Alfred, with a smile.

"It is that poor devil who was at Clermont," said Edouard.

"Yes, it is that fine fellow who is so ugly to look at. For heaven’s sake, see how he stares at my château! He does it ostentatiously; one would say that he wanted to pick a quarrel with the workmen he sees there. I will have the rascal driven away from my moat."

"I do not believe that your lordship has that right, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire. Monsieur Férulus would tell you that that man is _extra muros_ and consequently cannot be disturbed."

"But why does he look at my property like that? I don’t like it."

"Ask him."

"What! Speak to that vagabond! Compromise myself by addressing him! Certainly not. However, I should be glad to know what he is doing here."

"Very well," said Edouard, "as I am not afraid of compromising myself, I propose to try to talk a little with the man. I have an idea that he is an unfortunate fellow looking for work. Couldn’t you give him something to do in your château, as you are just setting up housekeeping?"

"Take that man into my house! No, indeed! I should be afraid that he would rob me."

"Oh! do you think it is always safe to judge by appearances, monsieur? and because this poor fellow’s coat is shabbier than those of the peasants hereabout, is it necessary to refuse him a chance to earn his living? That’s the way the unfortunate are forced into crime."

"After all, what you say is reasonable. Well! go to him and ask him what he can do. I might employ him to pull up beets, or to groom the horses which I propose to buy; we will see. But first of all find out what he is; I am determined to have only respectable people in my service."

The carriage drove into the courtyard. Monsieur Férulus, who had already arrived for dinner, joined the young men. Edouard, while the rest went into the château, went out again and walked toward the place where they had seen the man from Clermont-Ferrand.

The stranger was still seated a short distance from the North Tower, to which his glances seemed more attracted than to the other parts of the château; his staff was between his legs, and his head rested on one of his hands.

Edouard approached the stranger, but he did not look up at him, and remained in the same position. Edouard saw that he must begin the conversation, and, taking his stand almost in front of the stranger he said to him in an indifferent tone:

"You seem to be examining this venerable château with much interest, monsieur?"

The stranger raised his eyes, glanced angrily at Edouard for a moment, then answered abruptly:

"Am I not at liberty to look where I please?"

"No one denies you that right. I simply thought that perhaps the sight of this château recalled bygone memories to you; that you may have known someone here formerly."

The stranger cast a piercing glance at the young man, and a bitter smile played about his lips, but he made no reply.

After a moment’s silence, Edouard continued:

"This is a charming country; I am delighted that I came here; it presents a most picturesque blending of wild and cheerful scenery.--Do you belong hereabout, monsieur?"

The stranger gazed earnestly at Edouard, and replied:

"If I should ask you where you came from, what you have been doing, and what you have come here for, would you consider it any of my business, and would you answer?"

"Perhaps so, monsieur; moreover, I may have reasons for questioning you which you would not have for questioning me."

"That is to say, that because I am poorly clad, because I look like an unfortunate devil, you, who are well dressed, and have money in your pocket, no doubt, think that you are vastly superior to me, and that that gives you the right to question me."

"You are mistaken, monsieur; and although your exterior may have led me to think that you are not wealthy, that thought has made me desirous to do something for you, to be useful to you, and that is what led me to ask you these questions."

The stranger looked at Edouard for some seconds, then shook his head, saying:

"You must be very different from other men then!"

"I came here with the person who has bought this château, and whom you may have seen with us."

The stranger indulged in a mocking smile, as he muttered:

"Yes, yes, I have seen him! and it seems that he has already begun to upset everything in the château."

"This property needs repairs; he proposes to make more modern the part of the building that he occupies. He also proposes to set up a household; he has not enough servants, and there are various positions to be filled. As you seem to look at the house with interest, I thought that perhaps it would be agreeable to you----"

"And you have come to offer me a chance to be the new owner’s footman!" exclaimed the stranger, with a frown.

Amazed at the expression which the other’s face assumed, Edouard replied hesitatingly:

"Footman--or something else; I know of no occupation that is degrading to him who fills it uprightly."

The stranger seemed to reflect for some moments, then exclaimed sarcastically:

"Upon my word, that would be very amusing! It would, indeed! I know that Jacob was a servant to Laban, that Apollo was a farmhand, that David kept flocks, that Cincinnatus drove the plough, and that the Prodigal Son was reduced to herding swine! After all, what does one’s employment matter, provided that one is happy? Is a man in an embroidered coat more worthy of esteem than one in a jacket and clogs? No. But he who is richly clad is able to procure all the pleasures of life, to satisfy his desires and his passions--that is the advantage that he has over the other. The form changes, but the substance is always the same. To prove it, just give money, wealth, to some poor wretch whose simple life and pure morals have been extolled to you, and he will very soon plunge into folly like the others. I know but one class of really wise people, and they are those who do not allow themselves to be tricked!"

Edouard listened to the stranger with no less surprise than interest. His speech proved that he, Edouard, was not in error in thinking that that man had not always been in such wretched plight. Apparently regardless of the person who stood beside him, the stranger took from his pocket a pipe and a flint, and as he struck the flint to obtain a light, continued his reflections:

"What a curious thing life is! When one is rich, happy, highly esteemed, one exposes it recklessly and plays with danger; one makes it a point of honor to defy perils. To be sure, we generally do it solely from self-esteem; then comes adversity, poverty, old age, and then we generally begin to tremble for our lives. We act like fools! For my own part, I have taken the wise course: I worry about nothing; I hold myself superior to everything. I still have a few coins in my pocket, and when they are gone, we will see. It won’t be the first time that I have found myself in an embarrassing position, and there is something piquant in the reflections to which such a condition gives rise. Moreover, the Auvergnats are good fellows; they will always give me a crust of bread, and with that I can walk where I please from morning till night. That is something. Ah! If we were at Athens or Sparta, people might find something to criticise in my mode of life, I know. By Solon’s law it was justifiable to denounce every citizen who had no occupation. But other times, other manners!"

The stranger, having lighted his pipe, put it in his mouth, and turned toward Edouard with a mocking laugh; then blew a puff of smoke into his face.

"Monsieur," said Edouard, "it is easy to see from your speech that you have had an education, that you were not born in the lower ranks of society. Misfortunes, which I do not ask to know, must have brought adversity upon you. You seem to hold a low opinion of your fellowmen, undoubtedly because you have reasons to complain of them; but misfortune embitters us and sometimes makes us unjust; so far as I am concerned, I sincerely desire to be of use to you, and to extricate you from a situation which I see you ought not to occupy."

"Which I ought not to occupy! Why, you see that I ought, since I am in it! But have I asked you for anything? Who told you that I am not contented as I am?"

"A man may become hardened to misfortune, to poverty; but whatever strength of mind he may have, it is impossible to banish entirely from his thoughts the memory of a happier time."

The stranger stretched himself out carelessly on the turf and looked at Edouard.

"Ah! you believe that, do you? How do you know that I do not deserve the misfortune of which you suppose me to be the victim; that it is not my misbehavior, my passions, which have put me where I am?"

"If that were so, I should see in it simply an additional motive for trying to oblige you. A man must be much more unhappy when his unhappiness is due to his own fault."

"Do you think that I follow the creed of Zoroaster, that I regale myself by reading the _Sadder_, which demands that a man should make a rigid examination of his conscience at the end of every day? No, indeed; for a long time my conscience and myself have been the best friends in the world, and for a very good reason, namely, that we never speak to each other.--Have you any snuff about you?"

"No, I never use it."

"That is a pity; it is deuced hard to find any about here! Never mind,--I will do without it; a man becomes accustomed to everything! Formerly I would never believe that one could sleep as well in the open air as in a bed; now I enjoy it immensely. I confess, however, that the bread of these mountaineers is a little heavy; it cannot come up to a truffled turkey or a roasted pheasant; but one must needs be sober when one cannot be otherwise."

"Why do you refuse me then when I offer you the means to be more comfortable? A servant’s place would humiliate you; but we might be able to find some place for you which would not be exactly that, some occupation in which there would be nothing distressing to you."

"No, no, it isn’t the name of servant that offends me; I tell you again, I look upon all men with the same eye! But to be a servant in this château--that is impossible!"

"Why so?"

"It is impossible, I tell you!" As he said this the stranger sprang to his feet; then he continued with a smile: "You must agree that the new owner has every appearance of an egregious idiot!"

Edouard smiled too, as he replied:

"He is a very good fellow at bottom."

"Oh, yes! A good fellow! I have known a deuced lot of men who seem to be that! They borrowed my money and never returned it. However, I did the same myself, later; it is natural; but it is much more difficult to live with fools than with intelligent people. Wealth makes the former even more absurd than ever, because it gives them assurance, self-sufficiency, which they parade on all occasions, and with which they drive one mad!--Ah! I feel by my stomach that dinner time has come; the stomach acts as a watch, you see; good-night, monsieur."

"May I not at least know your name? If any opportunity to oblige you should present itself, which were more agreeable to you than the idea of taking service at the château, I should like to be able to find you."

"To find me! That is not a very easy matter. I am everywhere and nowhere, like the _free judges_ of old times. However, I think that I have chosen my place of abode in these mountains for some time. As for my name, I have no desire to tell you the name which really belongs to me; but I will tell you what the Auvergnats call me, who meet me on the roads and who are beginning to know me; they call me the tall vagabond. That is not such a sonorous name as Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, but after all it is as good a name as another. Good-night."

With that, the stranger walked away whistling, and Edouard returned to the château, thinking of the strange individual with whom he had been talking. They were awaiting Edouard to adjourn to the table. Monsieur Férulus was in despair, for fear that the soup would be cold; but Robineau was very curious to know who the man was with the knotted stick, and as soon as he espied Edouard, he cried: "Well! did you talk with him?"

"Yes, we had quite a long conversation."

"You must tell us about it."

"Cannot monsieur tell us about it at the table?" said Monsieur Férulus.

They took their seats at the table, and Edouard told the result of his conversation with the stranger.

"So he won’t enter my service?" said Robineau.

"No, he refuses."

"I am not at all sorry."

"It must be that that fellow is a little cracked," said Monsieur Férulus, "to prefer the bread of the mountaineers to Monsieur de la Roche-Noire’s _cuisine_."

"I don’t agree with you," said Edouard. "That man has had a good education, and has held high rank in society; he can’t make up his mind to wait upon other men, and that seems to me natural enough."

"What makes you think that that vagabond has been received in good society?" said Robineau. "I have discovered nothing distinguished in his appearance."

"If you had heard him talk, you would be certain that he has not always worn such shabby clothes."

"My dear friend," said Alfred, "you are a little inclined to be romantic. Everything that seems in the least degree strange or extraordinary, attracts you, and you are very glad to transform this vagabond into one of those mysterious characters whom we find only in novels."

"Messieurs," said Monsieur Férulus, filling everybody’s glass, "Monsieur Edouard is a man of letters; he may have been--I will say more, he must have been flattered to hear a few scholastic words come from the mouth of so vulgar a person. But what does that prove? That he has received an education? I am not of that opinion. Are we not told that in ancient times animals spoke?"

"Such things are seen in our day, too," said Alfred.

"Ah, yes! you mean parrots. They have had education; but Livy reports that an ox cried in the marketplace: ‘Rome, beware!’ Pliny says that a dog spoke when Tarquin was expelled from the throne; and if we are to believe Suetonius, a crow cried in the Capitol when Domitian was about to be assassinated: ‘That is well done!’ One of the horses of Achilles, named Xanthus, predicted to his master that he would die before Troy. Lastly, Phryxus’s ram spoke, as did the cows on Mount Olympus; and yet, messieurs, none of these beasts had ever received any education. Surely a man may do as much. My conclusion is that this vagabond has been in the service of some scholar, and that something of what he heard has stuck in his memory; for we masters of arts are like the sun, whose beams penetrate palace and garret alike.--Mademoiselle Cheval’s salmis is excellent.--I have the honor to drink to the health of Monsieur de la Roche-Noire."

Alfred and Edouard had ceased to take part in the conversation; they were both absorbed by their thoughts. But Monsieur Férulus, who seemed to have made up his mind to eat and drink and talk for the whole party, did not let the conversation flag, and took pains at every turn to throw some flattery or some compliment into the face of Robineau, who received it all with delight, and considered Monsieur Férulus much more agreeable than his two friends. The schoolmaster had already attained his end; the atmosphere of the château was much pleasanter to him than that of his school, and toward the close of the dinner, in the fulness of his heart, he said:

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, I feel that I have imbibed a very strong attachment for you."

"Monsieur Férulus," said Robineau bowing, "I beg you to believe that on my side----"

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, it came to me immediately when I saw you approaching on your donkey. There exists a secret sympathy between great men; and if you are great in birth and in worldly wealth, I flatter myself that I am in knowledge. I am a veritable well in the matter of learning! You must have a library in your château."

"I have one in the South Tower."

"In that case you absolutely must have a librarian."

"But the fact is that there are no books in the library."

"Never mind, we will put some in it. I will bring mine, all classical works. You must realize, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, that a château without a library is like a dinner without soup, like a handsome man with only one eye, or a pretty woman who limps. Look you, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, do you know what I am capable of doing for you?--I have the honor of drinking to your health."

Robineau thought for some time, then replied:

"Faith, no, I can’t imagine."

"If you can’t imagine, I must explain to you; that is the way that the Sibyls always answered those who consulted them; and when they had expounded their oracle, ordinarily it was understood no better. But to return to the subject: you absolutely must have a librarian."

"But I thought that as----"

"No, you must have one first of all; and to be the depository of the learning which the Château of La Roche-Noire must contain, requires a profound, erudite, scholarly and modest man. Now I look about in vain over all the country within ten leagues, I see no other than myself who combines all these qualities; _consequentia consequentium_, I will be your librarian."

"Oh! Monsieur Férulus----"

"I have the honor to drink to the health of Monsieur de la Roche-Noire. Yes, I will leave everything, I will turn my pupils over to my sub-master; and I have five at this moment. But no matter! Money is nothing to me. Moreover, I have taken it into my head to make your name immortal, and I will do it. I will compose in your honor Greek, Latin, French and Hebrew verses; you shall be a Mæcenas, an Augustus; I will be your Horace, your Virgil; and to make you immortal, I ask simply a salary of four hundred francs, with board and lodging."

Robineau considered that four hundred francs a year was not a high price to pay for becoming immortal, so he shook hands with Monsieur Férulus and the bargain was concluded. The new librarian promised to come and take up his quarters at the château next day. They drank more bumpers to the pleasure that they anticipated in each other’s society; and by dint of arguing about the advantages of knowledge, and of drinking to the health of the great men of antiquity, they ended by not knowing what they were saying. Alfred and Edouard had retired long since, and Robineau concluded to follow their example; but on attempting to rise from the table, he was surprised to find that he was dizzy and that his legs gave way. He rang for François to take him to his apartment, saying: "This is strange! Anyone would say that I was a little bit tipsy."

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire," said Férulus, trying to find his hat, "there is no harm in getting a little fuddled; Alexander the Great got tipsy sometimes, and our ancestors used to drink hard. In Germany, a man did not think that he had treated his guest in a friendly fashion, if he did not send him home drunk; and in Russia the Muscovites used to be so frantically fond of wine that when they could no longer swallow it, they took injections of it. When I become your house-guest, I hope that we shall reintroduce some of the customs of antiquity.--Until to-morrow, Monsieur de la Roche-Noire!"

Monsieur Férulus left the château in almost the same condition in which Cunette and Vincent had left the ball; and Robineau flung himself upon his bed, with his head in a whirl, but overjoyed to think that there was some point of resemblance between himself and Alexander the Great.