Chapter V: Purchase of a Château.--Departure for Auvergne

Robineau did not sleep very long, for when a man’s mind is running on a château, lands, titles, a carriage and servants, it must necessarily cause him some excitement. There are insomnias more pleasant than those caused by ambition and a longing for grandeur; it is sweet in the silence of the night to think of the person we love, to be in thought, in memory, in hopes, with her from whom we are separated. At such times we yield without question to the fondest illusions, we fashion our own dreams, and we dread to sleep, because sleep does not always present to us the images that are most dear to our hearts. But Robineau, who had no such thoughts as these, weary of tossing and turning in his bed, and of looking for a château, first on the right ear and then on the left, rose early and began to dress, saying to himself:

"My cabriolet and my servant may be waiting for me already at the door; I have too much to do to waste my time in bed."

Having dressed, he left his room on tiptoe, because he was not at all desirous to be overheard by Fifine, who was also a very early riser; but he met no one in the hall, and arrived safely in the street, where he looked in vain for his cabriolet.

"The devil! not here yet!" he muttered, looking at his watch. "Ah! it’s only six o’clock; but no matter: if I choose to go to drive at six o’clock, I am at perfect liberty to do it."

He went back into the passage, uncertain whether he should sally forth on foot or wait for his carriage; but, hearing a noise on the stairs, and fearing that it might be Fifine, he decided to go out.

Robineau bent his steps toward his notary’s, but when he reached the house the concierge was just rising.

"I am going to the office!" he called out as he hurried across the courtyard.

"There’s nobody there," the concierge replied. And so it proved; Robineau found the office door locked and went back to the concierge.

"What does this mean? Haven’t the clerks arrived yet?"

"Why, it’s too early, monsieur; the clerks never come to the office at six in the morning."

"Is monsieur le notaire at home?"

"He certainly hasn’t gone out yet. I suppose he’s asleep with his wife."

"Asleep! nonsense! Why, it’s two hours since I woke up. I am going up to his apartment."

"But, monsieur, nobody goes up so early as this."

"When a man proposes to buy a château, he should be at liberty to call whenever he pleases."

The concierge, thinking that Robineau’s business must be of great importance, allowed him to go upstairs, and he jangled the bell at the door of the notary’s apartment.

In a few minutes a maid opened the door with a terrified air, saying:

"Mon Dieu! whatever has happened?"

"It’s I, my dear child," replied Robineau; "I want to speak with your master."

"What for, monsieur?" inquired the servant, still thinking that some event of great importance must have happened.

"What for? Parbleu! about the château, the estate I instructed him to find for me."

The maid became calmer and stared at Robineau as she replied:

"Monsieur is still asleep; he isn’t in the habit of attending to business so early."

"Go tell him, my dear, that it’s his client Jules-Raoul Robineau, who has just inherited twenty-five thousand francs a year from his uncle Gratien; that will wake him up at once."

"Oh! I don’t think so, monsieur. Besides, monsieur and madame haven’t been married very long, and I don’t know whether I can go into their room like this."

"Do you want me to go?"

"Oh, no! wait a moment, monsieur, while I go and see."

The servant decided to deliver the message entrusted to her, and Robineau meanwhile paced the floor of an enormous dining-room.

"When the notary knows that it’s I," he thought, "I am sure that he’ll get up immediately."

But the maid soon returned and said with a mocking air:

"Monsieur swore because I woke him, and sent me about my business; he says you must come again."

"Did you give him my name?"

"Yes, monsieur, but that didn’t do any good."

"Ah! that didn’t do any good? Very well, I will call again."

And Robineau went away in a very ill humor, saying to himself:

"If that man had paid over all my money, I would change notaries instantly. Let’s go to Alfred’s."

He arrived at the hôtel De Marcey before seven o’clock and found the servants walking about the courtyard. Alfred’s valet stopped Robineau, saying:

"My master is asleep, monsieur."

"Bah! that doesn’t matter; he won’t be sorry to see me, he expects me," was the reply; and Robineau went upstairs, walked through various rooms and arrived at last in Alfred’s bedroom, where he found his friend fast asleep. He shook him violently, crying:

"Well, my friend! aren’t we ever going to get up? Come, come, lazybones!"

Alfred opened his eyes, looked up at Robineau, and exclaimed:

"Hallo! is it you? What in the devil do you want of me?"

"I have come to talk business with you. If I am not mistaken, you told me yesterday that you had seen a very fine estate near Mantes, which----"

"Eh! the devil take you and your estates! I was having the most delicious dream; I was coasting with Madame de Gerville, and the sled broke; but instead of being hurt, we were hugging each other so tight, we fell so softly; and I felt the pressure of her body. I touched----"

"I beg your pardon for waking you, my friend," said Robineau, "but----"

"And I," said Alfred, "beg you to pardon me if I go to sleep again."

And he paid no further heed to Robineau, who cried:

"What, my friend! you are going to sleep again just on account of a dream of coasting and such nonsense?"

Seeing that it was useless to speak to him, Robineau decided to take his leave.

"Let’s go to Monsieur Edouard Beaumont’s," he said to himself. "A poet, an author ought to rise early; genius should be up with the lark. At all events, I’ll ask him to breakfast with me, and they say that authors are very susceptible to such invitations."

So he betook himself to Edouard’s lodgings, where he had never been. He knew the address, however, and succeeded in finding it. The young author did not live at a hotel, nor did he occupy a first floor apartment; but he had lodgings in a pleasant house in Rue d’Enghien. The concierge did not stop Robineau, but merely said to him:

"Go up to the fourth floor."

"The fourth floor--that’s rather high," said Robineau to himself. "To be sure, the staircase is very clean and very pleasant. But a poet--there’s no law compelling them to be rich. And yet I have heard Alfred say that Edouard was in comfortable circumstances, that he had about four thousand francs a year. That used to seem a fortune to me."

On reaching the fourth floor Robineau rang once, twice; no answer. Not discouraged, he rang a third time, and at last heard Edouard’s voice, calling:

"Who’s there?"

"It’s I--Jules--you know. I have come to ask you to breakfast. Let me in."

"Oh! I beg a thousand pardons, Monsieur Robineau, but I worked far into the night, and I should like to sleep a little longer. Au revoir."

He walked away from the door, and Robineau stood on the landing for some moments.

"What in the devil have all these people eaten," he said to himself, "that they’re so anxious to sleep? it’s a most extraordinary thing!"

He went downstairs and looked at his watch; it was about half-past seven, and it occurred to him that his cabriolet should be waiting for him. So he returned to Rue Saint-Honoré and uttered a cry of joy when he saw in the distance the carriage standing at his door. He quickened his pace and discovered Fifine and the other young milliners standing in the doorway of the shop. He marched proudly by them and jumped into the cabriolet amid shouts of laughter from the young ladies, saying to himself:

"They laugh at me! Very good! I will try to splash them."

He drove about for an hour through the streets of Paris, then returned to his notary’s office. That gentleman, who was already tired of seeing him four times a day, and who did not care to be roused from sleep by him often, concluded that he had better find an estate for him in short order, as the best way to be rid of him. And so, as soon as he saw him, he said:

"I have what you want."

"Is it possible? An estate?"

"Better than that--a small château."

"A château?--You are a delightful man!"

"With towers, too, and battlements."

"Battlements!--Allow me to embrace you!"

"And moats--they are dry, to be sure."

"I will have them filled with water."

"Plenty of rooms, many guest chambers, stable for twenty horses."

"I will stable asses there."

"A park, a forest, and enormous gardens where you can lose yourself!"

"Lose myself--that is delicious!"

"Outlying land where you can hunt."

"I will do nothing else."

"A little stream abundantly supplied with fish."

"And I am very fond of _matelote_!"

"And the château is all furnished--in rather old-fashioned style, to be sure; but you will find there all that you need for immediate occupancy, except linen."

"My dear notary, this is enchanting. Furnished in antique style! Why, it is all the more noble for that!"

"However, you will obtain with the deeds an exact inventory of everything that the château contains."

"This is all very fine; I am simply afraid that this charming property is too dear."

"Eighty thousand francs."

"Eighty thousand francs! that is a mere nothing. I will buy it."

"It is my duty to warn you that the property does not produce much revenue; the appurtenant estates are not well kept up."

"I don’t care for that."

"There will be some repairs to be made on the buildings."

"I will do whatever is necessary."

"And then, it’s some distance from here."

"What difference does that make to me? I shan’t go there on foot. But where is it?"

"In Auvergne, near Saint-Amand-Talende and Clermont--nearly ninety leagues from Paris."

Robineau reflected for some moments.

"In Auvergne!" he said; "ninety leagues from Paris! The devil! I shan’t be able to breakfast at the Café Anglais and return to my château at night."

"But consider too, monsieur, that an estate near Paris soon becomes ruinous by the number of visitors you receive; one person comes to pass a week with you, another a fortnight; you are never free; you need a large fortune to meet the expense that that occasions."

"That is true; and in Auvergne people won’t drive out to breakfast with me.--I am not familiar with Auvergne; is it a pleasant country?"

"Oh! it’s a most interesting, most picturesque region, monsieur. The little town of Saint-Amand and its neighborhood form one of the most remarkable districts of the Limagne d’Auvergne. You will see mountains in all directions and green fields. Nature abounds in accidents of rare beauty."

"There are accidents, you say?"

"I am speaking as an artist; I mean that you will be surprised, on emerging from a rugged mountain chain, to see before you vine-covered hillsides, and valleys where the most luscious fruits and the most nutritious vegetables grow in abundance."

"That’s what comes of not travelling! I imagined that there was nothing to see in Auvergne but mountain-rats."

"The little village of Talende is supplied with water by one of the most noteworthy and most abundant springs of living water known. Julius Cæsar called Talende the bed of the gods!"

"In that case the people ought to sleep very comfortably."

"Lastly, Auvergne has given birth to more than one famous man: at Aigueperse the Chancellor de l’Hôpital was born; Riom was the birthplace of Anne Dubourg, Issoire of Cardinal Duprat; and the little hamlet of Chanonat witnessed the birth of the amiable Delille, and has been celebrated in song by that poet."

"This is all very fine; but what is the name of the château? I care a great deal about the name."

"The estate is known as La Roche-Noire."

"La Roche-Noire! superb! And when it is mine, can I assume that name?"

"There is nothing to prevent."

"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire! Jules de la Roche-Noire!--Magnificent!--It is settled, monsieur le notaire; I will buy the château."

"You might go to see the place before coming to a decision, and----"

"No! no! It would surely be sold to someone else meanwhile, and the name of La Roche-Noire would escape me! It is decided, it’s a bargain, I will buy the château.--When can I have my papers? When will you have the deed ready? I am in a great hurry to take possession of my château!"

"I must write to my brother notary at Saint-Amand; and then the deeds--oh! it will be a matter of a week at most."

"A week! dear me! that’s a long while!--But no matter; do whatever is necessary, so that no one can dispute my title. By the way, if you are writing to Auvergne, I should be glad to have the people at my château know that I shall be there soon, and to have them prepare a little reception for me. There are servants at La Roche-Noire, no doubt?"

"A concierge and a gardener at most."

"Very good; there’ll be no harm in letting them know that their new master proposes to visit his château very soon; that will give them time to prepare a little complimentary greeting, eh, monsieur le notaire?"

"To be sure, if they wish to offer you one."

"A new lord! Why, I should say that that was the regular thing."

"At the Opéra-Comique, yes."

"And even more in Auvergne, for those people must still retain the patriarchal customs.--Well, I will leave you. Hasten my business, I beg you; remember that my life, my happiness, all my hopes are already centred on my château."

Robineau left the notary’s office, beside himself with joy; and inasmuch as joy, like grief, longs to find a vent, he returned to Alfred, who was no longer in bed, and to whom he shouted from the reception-room:

"It’s all settled! I am a landed proprietor, I own a château, the Château de la Roche-Noire, nothing less,--with towers, battlements, moats,--and cannon perhaps. Nothing is lacking! My dear De Marcey, I am the happiest of men!"

Alfred smiled at the intense excitement produced in the parvenu by the possession of a château; he bade him sit beside him, urged him to be calm, and asked him where his estate was situated.

"In Auvergne," replied Robineau; "a magnificent country! the land of mountains, of great men, of the most picturesque accidents--the bed of the gods according to Julius Cæsar; and that fellow should have known what he was talking about, for the Romans were great voluptuaries when they chose to take the trouble."

"In that case how does it happen that the natives of such a beautiful region come in crowds to Paris to mend kettles or carry water?"

"What does that prove? Haven’t men always loved to travel? The most ancient peoples, the Jews, Chaldæans, the Phœnicians, set us the example; and when a patriarch like Abraham journeys with his family, his household and his flocks, from the Euphrates to Palestine, and then to Egypt, it seems to me that an Auvergnat may well take the trouble to travel to Paris."

"That is true; however, I don’t know Auvergne, but I have heard that it is a very interesting country. Of course you will go down and inspect the château before purchasing?"

"No, I shall purchase it at once and inspect it afterward; I propose to make my entry as lord, as proprietor. The domain of La Roche-Noire! and only eighty thousand francs! You must agree, my dear De Marcey, that it’s a great find."

"More probably some old Gothic structure, in a ruinous, dilapidated condition, where you will have to lay out a lot of money just in repairs."

"I shall repair nothing; I love ruins myself! And a park! a forest! hunting and fishing!"

"Do you hunt as well as you ride?"

"Oh! you wicked joker! Look you, I am sure that you have formed a very false idea of my château."

"I assure you that I am very glad that you have one, because now you will at least let me sleep in peace."

"Oh! my friend! my dear friend! I have a delightful idea!"

"To buy another château?"

"No, one is enough; I am not ambitious, you see. But you have just said that you don’t know Auvergne; here’s a superb opportunity to become acquainted with it. I take you with me to see my property; I compel you to agree that I have made a fine purchase; and you give me some advice as to establishing my household, you teach me to hunt. We will give fêtes, which you will arrange and manage.--Well! what do you say to it? don’t you like the scheme?"

"Faith! I should like well enough to go to Auvergne; but I remember that I am to take a little trip this summer through Switzerland with Edouard; our plans are all laid."

"Instead of going to Switzerland, you may as well come to Auvergne, which is the Switzerland of France; you will see mountains and snow there as well as in Switzerland, and we will take Edouard with us."

"The deuce! do you propose to take everybody?"

"No, but I should like to take Edouard, because he’s a poet, and a poet is often useful, especially when a person means, as I do, to give banquets, entertain ladies and be gallant."

"Ah! I understand; you want Edouard to go, in order to write occasional verses?"

"He will do only what he pleases; but it seems to me that an author, a poet, should not be sorry to visit a picturesque region--a country where there are cliffs and precipices. He will procure material for ten plays! Snow, mountains, torrents--there’s nothing like them to inspire genius. I am sure that Edouard will write a poem about my château, or a tragedy which he will call _La Roche-Noire_.--Urge him to come, Alfred, I beseech you."

"I promise to suggest it to him, and if he agrees, it’s a bargain; we will go with you and install you in your château."

Robineau left Alfred, in order to attend to the preparations for his departure. Alfred, as he reflected on the proposal that had been made to him, concluded that the trip to Auvergne might furnish him with frequent opportunities for amusement; indeed the bare idea of seeing the Château de la Roche-Noire and Robineau playing the grand seigneur was most diverting; and as he and Edouard had formed the plan of going to Switzerland solely to obtain a brief respite from the fatiguing life and dissipations of Paris, he thought that his friend, like himself, would be inclined to accept Robineau’s invitation.

It rarely happened that Edouard and Alfred passed more than two days without meeting. Although they had not precisely the same tastes and the same temperament, they were fond of each other and suited each other. The sympathy that draws two persons together is not always born of similarity of temper and mental characteristics. We see gayety attached to melancholy; and the gravest and most sedate persons seek the company of the most inveterate jokers and find enjoyment with the greatest buffoons. The sluggish nature requires something to rouse it; the mind needs contrasts. How many people there are who are contented only with those with whom they are forever disputing! Two persons may be congenial without loving each other; to inspire the latter sentiment, there must be in the bottom of the heart, despite external differences, that secret sympathy which we feel but cannot define.

Alfred was more frivolous, more heedless, more hilarious perhaps, than Edouard; the latter, however, was hardly more virtuous than most young men of his age; but, as he was not rich, like young De Marcey, he did not carry his follies so far, and he was sensible enough to be determined not to run into debt. His habit of careful expenditure, of reflecting before agreeing to join a party of pleasure, had led his friend to dub him Monsieur le Prudent; but Edouard was no more prudent than Alfred when his heart was engaged. Both were pleasant fellows: Alfred because he said whatever came into his mind, and his natural merriment often suggested some most amusing conceits; Edouard because he said only what he felt, and his thoughts were generally judicious. However, Edouard laughed at the follies that Alfred uttered, and Alfred applauded his friend’s sage reflections.

On the evening of the day when Robineau roused them both from their slumbers, Edouard and Alfred were together, and the latter informed his friend of the proposal of the new purchaser of La Roche-Noire.

Edouard reflected for several minutes; whereupon Alfred lost patience and urged him to decide.

"Go to visit Monsieur Jules Robineau!" said Edouard at last; "why, don’t you know that your friend Robineau is an awful ass?"

"Certainly I know it; but what does it matter? Don’t we visit asinine people every day?"

"If he were only that, it would be nothing; but he is full of absurd pretensions."

"So much the better! that’s the most amusing part of it. Think of the airs he will put on in his château! and the commotion it will make in the neighborhood! and the amusing scenes that will result! You, being a dramatic author, will find innumerable tableaux of manners there, and comical incidents----"

"That is all very well; but we cannot go with the poor fellow for the sole purpose of amusing ourselves at his expense."

"What harm would there be in that? But don’t you see that, while amusing ourselves, we shall be rendering a genuine service to Robineau? He will need our advice in a thousand matters. He means to give fêtes, balls, and he is already thinking of asking you to write verses for marriages and baptisms."

"Indeed! much obliged!"

"However, if we should be bored at his château, we could go away. I don’t expect to pass my life at La Roche-Noire."

"How shall we make the journey?"

"Mon Dieu! just as you choose. By post, I presume; and divide the expense,--that goes without saying. I do not propose that Monsieur Robineau shall pay our travelling expenses; but we shall spend no more than we should in Switzerland.--Well! you are still reflecting. Does your prudence descry some obstacle? With your four thousand francs a year and your savings, you will end by being richer than I am!"

"I do not desire great wealth, I ask for nothing but happiness."

"You are not exacting! you want nothing but the best.--Well, what is your decision?"

"Whatever you wish; let us go to Auvergne, and visit Monsieur Robineau’s château."

"That is settled then. Poor Robineau! he will be in raptures when he knows that we are going with him. He is a good enough fellow at heart; I greatly fear that he will ruin himself with his château, and we will try to prevent him, unless he is really obstinate about it.--We will go and have a look at Auvergne and the little Auvergnates! I am not sure, but I have an idea that we shall find some pretty faces there."

"Ah! thinking of the women already!"

"You are an excellent one to preach! Why, my dear fellow, a country where there were no women, and consequently no hope of a love-affair, though it were as beautiful as Eden, as rich as Eldorado, and of as mild a climate as Araby the Blest, would be in my eyes a dreary solitude. That is why I have always pitied poor Crusoe, who, instead of a woman, had only his man Friday for company."

Robineau did not fail to come the next day to learn the decision of the two friends; and when he heard that they proposed to accompany him to his château, he was in raptures. He bought a post-chaise for the journey and wanted to buy horses as well. Alfred had much difficulty in making him understand that it would be much better to use post-horses as far as Clermont-Ferrand.

"Why not all the way to my château?" asked Robineau.

"Did you not tell me that your château was only a league or two from that town?"

"Yes."

"Very well! as we are going to Auvergne to see something of the country, I opine that we may very well do a couple of leagues on foot."

"But----"

"But, if you continue to oppose our wishes, we shall leave you to go alone."

Robineau yielded, although it would have seemed to him much more noble to drive in a post-chaise into the very courtyard of his château; but he reflected that he would easily find other horses at Clermont to carry him the rest of the way and to transport his baggage; for he had laid in an ample stock of clothes and toilet articles, desiring to introduce in Auvergne the latest Parisian styles.

By dint of pestering his notary, Robineau succeeded in having his purchase completed promptly; and at the end of six days he was ready to leave Paris, attended by his new servant, named François, who had driven his cabriolet, and whom he had promoted to be his valet, because he had instantly detected his master’s weakness; and never spoke to him except with downcast eyes and hat in hand.

Alfred did not consider it necessary to take any servant with him; but as the Baron de Marcey had not returned to Paris at the time of their departure, he left with Germain, his valet, a letter for his father, in which he said simply:

"I am going for a little journey with Edouard and Robineau; I am sorry not to have had an opportunity to embrace you before starting, but I will make up for it when we return. Keep well and enjoy yourself. I am going to try to get some diversion."

The careless fellow did not even mention the part of the country to which he was going; he thought that it made no difference to his father, and moreover he intended to write to him if he should stay with Robineau for any length of time.

On the day fixed for their departure, Robineau took his seat in the post-chaise before the horses were harnessed; he sent François thrice to meet Alfred and Edouard. At last his two companions arrived; the valises were stored away, the trunks strapped on behind, the horses saddled, and the postilion cracked his whip. They were off for Auvergne, and Robineau said to himself:

"Here I am _en route_ for my château!"