The Idol of Paris Part 36

Albert sighed sadly and closed the carriage door, after he had kissed his fiancee's hand. As the carriage drove away he went up to the room his mother was to occupy when she arrived next day, and looked to see if all was ready.

He took a book and tried to read, but after a couple of minutes he threw it aside and went out of doors again. He stopped a moment on the terrace, considering where to go. A young lady stopped him as he was preparing to go down the steps.

"All alone, Count, and dreaming! Ah! you are thinking of her. Come, let us stroll along together."

And the young Countess de Morgueil took his arm before he had time to answer.

"You were not at the rehearsal this morning. You know that they have given up the tableaux of 'Europa.' Did you insist upon it?"

"No, why should I have made myself so ridiculous?"

"But the Duke pretended...."

"Dear Madame, the Duke could not have pretended anything except that he did not wish to appear without any clothes on, a decision that I heartily approved of."

"They say that he tries to fascinate every woman he meets. What do you think?"

"And what do you?" said the Count, looking her straight in the eye.

"Oh! he would never cause me great palpitation," she returned meaningly.

"Are you making any allusion to Mlle. Darbois?" he asked, stopping abruptly.

"I am engaged to Mlle. Darbois, I believe you know, Madame. You are piqued because you love the Duke de Morlay and he seems to be deserting you to hover near my fiancee. Do as I do; have a little patience; to-morrow by this time the fete will be over and I shall have left with Mlle. Darbois. Don't be either too nervous or too malicious, it does not agree with your type of beauty. I kiss your hands."

He went towards the Chateau, and took up his vigil in the little salon adjoining Esperance's room.

The Countess of Morgueil was confused and mortified. "He is not so stupid as he looks," she thought.

Albert was reading, but listening all the time. Finally a carriage stopped before the Chateau. He went down quickly and caught Esperance in his arms so tightly that the young girl gave a little scream.

"Oh! pardon, pardon. It is so long since I have seen you."

He kissed Mme. Darbois's hand and almost crushed the professor's fingers in his nervous grasp. He asked anxiously concerning Penhouet, and expressed his desire to return there immediately. Maurice and Genevieve came running up.

"How happy every one looks here," said Mme. Darbois.

"Don't believe it, my dear aunt; we are standing on a volcano."

"Ah! the cares of the fete weigh upon you. It always seems as if everything were going wrong at the last moment."

She laughed, proud of her penetrations. Genevieve tugged at Maurice's vest as he was about to set the dear lady right.

"Ah! well, I leave you to dress. This evening, uncle, I want to have a chat with you as I have something serious to say to you."

The philosopher and his wife looked at each other understandingly.

"Very well, my boy, I shall be entirely at your disposal for as long as you like, for I can guess...."

And he looked at Genevieve. Maurice despaired of ever making him understand.

CHAPTER XXVI

Everyone greeted the philosopher with delight when he appeared in the ante-chamber where the guests were a.s.sembled before dinner. The Duke came to present his greetings to Mme. Darbois and stayed talking to her for some time. He saw that she liked him, but foresaw at the same time that it would be very painful for the good woman to have to accept another son-in-law. During dinner the d.u.c.h.ess steered the conversation towards philosophy, wis.h.i.+ng to please Francois, who was placed on her right--art and science being to her the highest t.i.tles of n.o.bility.

"Ah! I am no philosopher," protested the Marquis de Montagnac. "I accept old age only as a chastis.e.m.e.nt, and not having committed any criminal act, I revolt against the injustice of it."

And Louis de Ma.r.s.et, bending towards his neighbour, who had had a great reputation for beauty before age and illness had pulled her down, remarked, "One cannot be and have been, is not that true, Madame?"

"You are mistaken, my dear sir. There are some poor people who are born fools and never change."

A smile of delight appeared on every face.

The Duke found himself in an argument with Lord Glerey, a phlegmatic Englishman, whose marital misfortunes had made both London and Paris laugh.

"You seem," said the Duke, "to confuse indifference with philosophy."

"I do not confuse them, my dear sir. My apparent indifference is simply scorn for the sarcasms, the cruelty of the people of society who are always ready to rejoice when anyone attacks the honour or love of another."

The Duke murmured slowly, "Certainly what they call 'the world'

deserves scorn. And all the same, taken separately, every individual of this collectivity is a man or woman like any other, a suffering being, who laughs just the same, like an eternal Figaro, for fear of being compelled to weep."

Count Albert was talking to an old sceptic.

"But," the Countess de Morgueil addressed him suddenly, "What would you do, if on the eve of attaining the longed-for happiness, you found yourself suddenly confronted by an insurmountable obstacle."

"Everything would depend on the quality of the happiness in prospect, Madame. Some happiness easily abandoned, and some happiness is to be struggled for until death itself."

Maurice had guessed the point of this sudden attack. He was none the less surprised by Albert's answer.

"Decidedly, it is going to be even more difficult than I feared," he thought.

Indeed, Count Albert had evidently a.s.sumed a change of att.i.tude. Love and jealousy had transformed this simple and generous heart into a being of metal; he had not lost any of his goodness, but he had put his soul in a state of defence and prepared himself for the struggle.

He did not know anything, but his presentiments filled him with anguish. He was not unaware that his austerity provoked irony, but now it seemed to him that the irony was taking a form of pity which enraged him.

Dinner was over, the great hall filled with groups gathered together as their tastes dictated. Bridge and poker tables were produced, and some of the young people gathered about a table where liqueurs were being served. Maurice took his uncle by the arm and led him away.

"Let us go to your room, for no one must hear what I have to say to you."

"Not even your aunt?"

"No, uncle, not even aunt."

Francois was astonished, for he had supposed that it was of his own future that Maurice wished to speak. They went towards the Tower of Saint Genevieve.