The Golden Lion of Granpere Part 22

'Thank ye, George; thank ye; but it does not much matter now what I smoke. Things are going wrong, and I don't get satisfaction out of anything.'

'Don't say that, father.'

'How can I help saying it? Look at that fellow up there. What am I to do with him? What am I to say to him? He means to stay there till he gets his wife.'

'He'll never get a wife here, if he stays till the house falls on him.'

'I can see that now. But what am I to say to him? How am I to get rid of him? There is no denying, you know, that he has been treated badly among us.'

'Would he take a little money, father?'

'No. He's not so bad as that.'

'I should not have thought so; only he talked to me about his lawyer.'

'Ah;--he did that in his anger. By George, if I was in his position I should try and raise the very devil. But don't talk of giving him money, George. He's not bad in that way.'

'He shouldn't have said anything about his lawyer.'

'You wait till you're placed as he is, and you'll find that you'll say anything that comes uppermost. But what are we to do with him, George?'

Then the matter was discussed in the utmost confidence, and in all its bearings. George offered to have a carriage and pair of horses got ready for Remiremont, and then to tell the young man that he was expected to get into it, and go away; but Michel felt that there must be some more ceremonious treatment than that. George then suggested that the Cure should give the message, but Michel again objected. The message, he felt, must be given by himself. The doing this would be very bitter to him, because it would be necessary that he should humble himself before the scented s.h.i.+ny head of the little man: but Michel knew that it must be so. Urmand had been undoubtedly ill-treated among them, and the apology for that ill-treatment must be made by the chief of the family himself.

'I suppose I might as well go to him alone,' said Michel, groaning.

'Well, yes; I should say so,' replied his son. 'Soonest begun, soonest over;--and I suppose I might as well order the horses.'

To this latter suggestion the father made no reply, but went slowly into the house. He turned for a moment into Marie's little office, and stood there hesitating whether he would tell her his mission.

As she was to be made happy, why should she not know it?

'You two have got the better of me among you,' he said.

'Which two, Uncle Michel?'

'Which two? Why, you and George. And what I'm to do with the gentleman upstairs, it pa.s.ses me to think. Thank heaven, it will be a great many years before Flos wants a husband.' Flos was the little daughter up-stairs, who was as yet no more than five years old.

'I hope, Uncle Michel, you'll never have anybody else as naughty and troublesome as I have been,' said Marie, pressing close to him. She was indescribably happy. She was to be saved from the lover whom she did not want. She was to have the lover whom she did want.

And, over and above all this, a spirit of kind feeling and full sympathy existed once more between her and her dear friend. As she offered no advice in regard to the disposal of the gentleman up-stairs, Michel was obliged to go upon his painful duty, trusting to his own wit.

In the long room up-stairs he found Adrian Urmand sitting at the closed window, looking out at the ducks who were paddling in a temporary pool made by the late rains. He had been painfully in want of something to do,--so much so that he had more than once almost resolved to put his things into his bag, and leave the house without saying a word of farewell to any one. Had there been any means for him to escape from Granpere without saying a word, he would have done so. But at Granpere there was no railway, and the only public conveyance in and out of the place started from the door of the Lion d'Or; started every morning, with much ceremony, so that it was impossible for him to fly un.o.bserved. There he was, watching the ducks, when Michel entered the room, and very much disposed to quarrel with any one who approached him.

'I'm afraid you find it rather dull here,' said Michel, beginning the conversation.

'It is dull; very dull indeed.'

'That is the worst of it. We are dull people here in the country.

We have not the distractions which you town folk can always find.

There's not much to do, and nothing to look at.'

'Very little to look at, that's worth the trouble of looking,' said Urmand.

There was a malignity of satire intended in this; for the young man in his wrath, and with a full conviction of what was coming upon him, had intended to include his betrothed in the catalogue of things of Granpere not worthy of inspection. But Michel Voss did not at all follow him so far as that.

'I never saw such a place,' continued Urmand. 'There isn't a soul even to play a game of billiards with.'

Now Michel Voss, although for a purpose he had been willing to make little of his own village, did in truth consider that Granpere was at any rate as good a place to live in as Basle. And he felt that though he might abuse Granpere, it was very uncourteous in Adrian Urmand to do so. 'I don't think much of playing billiards in the morning, I must own,' said he.

'I daresay not,' said Urmand, still looking at the ducks.

Michel had made no progress as yet, so he sat down and scratched his head. The more he thought of it, the larger the difficulty seemed to be. He was quite aware now that it was his own unfortunate journey to Basle which had brought so heavy a burden on him. It was as yet no more than three or four days since he had taken upon himself to a.s.sure the young man that he, by his own authority, would make everything right; and now he was forced to acknowledge that everything was wrong. 'M. Urmand,' he said at last, 'it has been a very great grief to me, a very great grief indeed, that you should have found things so uncomfortable.'

'What things do you mean?' said Urmand.

'Well--everything--about Marie, you know. When I went over to Basle the other day, I didn't think how it was going to turn out. I didn't indeed.'

'And how is it going to turn out?'

'I can't make the young woman consent, you know,' said the innkeeper.

'Let me tell you, M. Voss, that I wouldn't have the young woman, as you call her, if she consented ever so much. She has disgraced me.'

To this Michel listened with perfect equanimity.

'She has disgraced you.'

At hearing this Michel bit his lips, telling himself, however, that there had been mistakes made, and that he was bound to bear a good deal.

'And she has disgraced herself,' said Adrian Urmand, with all the emphasis that he had at command.

'I deny it,' said Marie's uncle, coming close up to his opponent, and standing before him. 'I deny it. It is not true. That shall not be said in my hearing, even by you.'

'But I do say it. She has disgraced herself. Did she not give me her troth, when all the time she intended to marry another man?'

'No! She did nothing of the kind. And look here, my friend, if you wish to be treated like a man in this house, you had better not say anything against any of the women who live in it. You may abuse me as much as you please,--and George too, if it will do you any good.

There have been mistakes made, and we owe you something.'

'By heavens, yes; you do.'

'But you sha'n't take it out in saying anything against Marie Bromar,--not in my hearing.'

'Why;--what will you do?'

'Don't drive me to do anything, M. Urmand. If there is any compensation possible--'

'Of course there must be compensation.'

'What is it you will take? Is it money?'

'Money;--no. As for money, I'm better off than any of you.'