"What have the Princes done for the du Guenics, or the Fontaines, or the Bauvans, who never submitted?" he muttered to himself."They fling miserable pensions to the men who fought most bravely, and give them a royal lieutenancy in a fortress somewhere on the outskirts of the kingdom."Evidently the Marquis doubted the reigning dynasty.Mlle.d'Esgrignon was trying to reassure her brother as to the prospects of the journey, when a step outside on the dry narrow footway gave them notice of Chesnel's coming.In another moment Chesnel appeared; Josephin, the Count's gray-aired valet, admitted the notary without announcing him.
"Chesnel, my boy----" (Chesnel was a white-haired man of sixty-nine, with a square-jawed, venerable countenance; he wore knee-breeches, ample enough to fill several chapters of dissertation in the manner of Sterne, ribbed stockings, shoes with silver clasps, an ecclesiastical-looking coat and a high waistcoat of scholastic cut.)"Chesnel, my boy, it was very presumptuous of you to lend money to the Comte d'Esgrignon! If I repaid you at once and we never saw each other again, it would be no more than you deserve for giving wings to his vices."There was a pause, a silence such as there falls at court when the King publicly reprimands a courtier.The old notary looked humble and contrite.
"I am anxious about that boy, Chesnel," continued the Marquis in a kindly tone; "I should like to send him to Paris to serve His Majesty.
Make arrangements with my sister for his suitable appearance at court.--And we will settle accounts----"The Marquis looked grave as he left the room with a friendly gesture of farewell to Chesnel.
"I thank M.le Marquis for all his goodness," returned the old man, who still remained standing.
Mlle.Armande rose to go to the door with her brother; she had rung the bell, old Josephin was in readiness to light his master to his room.
"Take a seat, Chesnel," said the lady, as she returned, and with womanly tact she explained away and softened the Marquis' harshness.
And yet beneath that harshness Chesnel saw a great affection.The Marquis' attachment for his old servant was something of the same order as a man's affection for his dog; he will fight any one who kicks the animal, the dog is like a part of his existence, a something which, if not exactly himself, represents him in that which is nearest and dearest--his sensibilities.
"It is quite time that M.le Comte should be sent away from the town, mademoiselle," he said sententiously.
"Yes," returned she."Has he been indulging in some new escapade?""No, mademoiselle."
"Well, why do you blame him?"
"I am not blaming him, mademoiselle.No, I am not blaming him.I am very far from blaming him.I will even say that I shall never blame him, whatever he may do."There was a pause.The Chevalier, nothing if not quick to take in a situation, began to yawn like a sleep-ridden mortal.Gracefully he made his excuses and went, with as little mind to sleep as to go and drown himself.The imp Curiosity kept the Chevalier wide awake, and with airy fingers plucked away the cotton wool from his ears.
"Well, Chesnel, is it something new?" Mlle.Armande began anxiously.
"Yes, things that cannot be told to M.le Marquis; he would drop down in an apoplectic fit.""Speak out," she said.With her beautiful head leant on the back of her low chair, and her arms extended listlessly by her side, she looked as if she were waiting passively for her deathblow.
"Mademoiselle, M.le Comte, with all his cleverness, is a plaything in the hands of mean creatures, petty natures on the lookout for a crushing revenge.They want to ruin us and bring us low! There is the President of the Tribunal, M.de Ronceret; he has, as you know, a very great notion of his descent----""His grandfather was an attorney," interposed Mlle.Armande.
"I know he was.And for that reason you have not received him; nor does he go to M.de Troisville's, nor to M.le Duc de Verneuil's, nor to the Marquis de Casteran's; but he is one of the pillars of du Croisier's salon.Your nephew may rub shoulders with young M.Fabien du Ronceret without condescending too far, for he must have companions of his own age.Well and good.That young fellow is at the bottom of all M.le Comte's follies; he and two or three of the rest of them belong to the other side, the side of M.le Chevalier's enemy, who does nothing but breathe threats of vengeance against you and all the nobles together.They all hope to ruin you through your nephew.The ringleader of the conspiracy is this sycophant of a du Croisier, the pretended Royalist.Du Croisier's wife, poor thing, knows nothing about it; you know her, I should have heard of it before this if she had ears to hear evil.For some time these wild young fellows were not in the secret, nor was anybody else; but the ringleaders let something drop in jest, and then the fools got to know about it, and after the Count's recent escapades they let fall some words while they were drunk.And those words were carried to me by others who are sorry to see such a fine, handsome, noble, charming lad ruining himself with pleasure.So far people feel sorry for him; before many days are over they will--I am afraid to say what----""They will despise him; say it out, Chesnel!" Mlle.Armande cried piteously.
