The Maid of Honour Volume I Part 9

The astute abbe was puzzled by the governess. Her arrival upset all his calculations. Clovis had never consulted him any more than Gabrielle, and under a preoccupied manner, he had, on receipt of the letter, been consumed by a white heat of rage. To dare to introduce a foreign element without his consent! Had he been scheming all this while to be baffled by a stranger? For surely in so small and retired a household she would take a prominent part. Would the woman turn out friend or foe? He had deemed the dreamy Clovis well under his thumb for life. The chevalier was a mere p.a.w.n upon the board. Since playing that false move on the night of the storm, he had employed all his arts to lull Gabrielle's suspicions, and had succeeded beyond expectation. That a head so cool as his should for once so betray its owner! A little patience. So delicious a prize was worth working and waiting for, and trying for again and again. Of different grit to the chevalier, he was not one to submit to defeat on a first repulse. No: his appet.i.te was whetted. The morsel should be his and only his, as he had openly sworn; and would be all the more enjoyable for a little vexatious waiting.

Thus had he arranged the future in his mind. But now, what of the governess? This unexpected move must be met somehow. Would it be well to form an alliance with her, or must she be promptly ousted? Her character must be studied with care. Evidently by nature domineering, what would be her att.i.tude to him? Could she be frightened and brow-beaten? Not likely. Would she endeavour to undermine the influence he had already gained in order to reign alone? Probably.

At the thought the abbe's eyes gleamed cat-like, and his thin lips tightened over grinding teeth. Turned out by a scheming stranger, and when all promised so well. To be turned out meant ruin, for things in the south had been going so wrong during the last six months, had become so much worse since the period of their hurried flight from Toulouse, that both brothers were quite dependent on the marquis. To be ejected now, or later, by the large dark hand of the unwelcome Aglae would mean pecuniary undoing, and the loss of the sweet morsel as well. Resign Gabrielle? Never! How to manage, then? The marquise was inclined to be friendly with the interloper, which showed a too Christian frame of mind to cope with mundane buffeting. This must be combated at once, lest it should become necessary before long to make a combined effort for the annihilation of the intruder.

What had the baleful woman come for to this dismal and remote retreat?

Why had Mesmer thrust his protegee upon the neophyte? With curses the abbe admitted inwardly that he was himself at the bottom of the imbroglio. With the idea of dividing the husband from the wife for ever, he had conceived the plan of burying Clovis so deep in mysticism that he might never be pulled out of the slough, and to that end had suggested an a.s.sistant who should be taught to play upon his foibles.

But who could be expected to foresee that the adept would take the form of a woman?

Of course, the woman was a greedy adventuress in search of flesh-pots, and had gauged aright the feeble and vacillating character of the young Marquis de Gange. She was evidently extremely gifted and he the dullest of good-looking dogs. Already he was dazzled by the jewels of a varied experience which she threw about so freely, and began to babble exasperating nonsense of having met his "Affinity" at last!

That she had some deep design on hand was evident, for she laid herself out to dazzle the besotted Clovis, and succeeded but too well.

If it were not so, what could the motive of so brilliant a person be for deliberately banis.h.i.+ng herself to this hermitage? She had certainly not jogged along those rugged roads for the edification of two strange children, however abnormally cherubic.

In the struggle which must come, simple Gabrielle would be worsted.

Beauty and honest innocence alone are never a match for intellect, even when combined with outward homeliness. Aglae Brunelle was not absolutely ugly, and yet by no means pretty; but when a superior mind s.h.i.+nes through a face, however plain, does it not light the features with a beauty all its own? Toinon had learnt that long since, and used it, as we have seen, for a text.

The more he thought the matter over, the more puzzled grew the abbe; the more angry with himself and dissatisfied. A very few days after the arrival of Mademoiselle, her pervading presence began to be felt by the entire household in a way that maddened Pharamond. It was like the mysterious action of yeast on dough. As outwardly respectful and submissive as a dependent should be, everybody came to feel that orders emanated from her. Was the fascination due to an occult power inoculated by the prophet? Even the scoffing abbe began to wonder whether there was something serious underlying the antics of the charlatan, after all. Certain it was that she did possess a power, but whether due to magnetism or strong will, it was hard to determine. The abbe's will was as tough as hers, he was proud to think, but instinct told him that a struggle between the two would be exhausting to both, and that none might prophesy the result. Better an alliance, if she, like him, was working on a web. But would she brook a divided sway?

Was _he_ prepared to accept so unsatisfactory an arrangement? How exasperating, that just as the horizon seemed so clear, the sky so cloudless, a thunderbolt should come out of the blue to play havoc with all his combinations.

What of Gabrielle? His schemes revolved around her. Thanks to his cleverness he and she had tranquilly resumed their old relations. He did not propose to be content to read poetry for ever. A time was to come when she was to return the burning kisses he had impressed upon her shoulder, and twine her arms about his neck; and that longed-for moment was no nearer now than months ago. To tame the fluttering bird to his will he must do a little squeezing, after all, and make up by the ardour of the future for the painful proceedings of the present.

Yes, Gabrielle must be gently racked, be made familiar with tweaks and pains. A little twist or two and a tug of ropes just to hint of such a tearing as was possible. Perhaps the governess, if an alliance could be brought about, might become a useful agent instead of a kill-joy.

Isolated on all sides, the Marquise de Gange must be thrown on her dear friend the abbe for protection; then the rest would quite naturally follow.

Among other things the accomplished Aglae was a skilled musician, and this became a new and unexpected bond between her and the enchanted marquis. She could rattle off by heart on the spinet all Lulli and Gluck, could even improvise entrancing accompaniments to airs. .h.i.therto unknown to her. She loved music, and considered the violoncello to be the most soul-stirring if sad of instruments. Sometimes her hands would slide from the keys while a great sigh burst from her capacious bosom, and the marquis looking up would perceive tears rolling down her cheeks. "It is nothing, but I do love it so," she would snuffle incoherently, and then resume the improvising with eyes and nose unbecomingly roseate and swollen.

What with the music (Gabrielle of course, retired into s.p.a.ce at the first scratching of the 'cello) and experiments with the bucket, and abstruse instructions as to laying on of hands, and the careful study of Mesmer's now frequent letters, the marquis and the governess were constantly thrown together. To flirt with your affinity--two souls denuded of their earthy envelope, side by side on a sofa--may have its delights; but surely to commune together in the flesh at all hours has conspicuous advantages.

On the day after her arrival Gabrielle had courteously volunteered to show mademoiselle over the castle, and that lady had overawed her hostess by the variety and minuteness of her knowledge, and bewildered her with searching questions. The abbe, looking on, had pointed out to the chevalier (who, gooseberry-eyed, saw nothing) the amusing contrast presented by the two ladies.

Gabrielle was a _Greuze_, without that painter's namby-pamby softness; so fair a thing that the hours almost turned laggard on their plodding way to gaze at her. Tall, slim, erect, with a carriage which is a gift at birth and can never be mimicked by a parvenue; a perfect figure; a colour borrowed from an unopened moss-rose; an expression of calm, as of an unrippled sea in a land-locked bay. By her side moved Aglae Brunelle--taller still, broad-shouldered; with a waist of smaller dimensions than might be expected from the ma.s.sive moulding of the limbs; an expression changing each moment according to the object brought under the beady eyes; a heavy swinging gait, and a trick of tossing the head. There was something that pleased by its oddity, and was as effective in its way as the sweeping erectness of her companion.

Aglae insisted upon going everywhere, and delivered a running lecture as she went, impressing points with a straight dark finger, square-tipped. From the turret window she delivered herself of a lesson in geography, showing that she knew more about the vicinity of the Loire than those who dwelt there. She vowed it was a shame to have walled up the dungeons, for in one (unless she was misinformed) was a crucifix carved with reverent care out of the stone, by the broken knife blade of a despairing prisoner. Then, the survey over, she declared she had not seen the most interesting object of all. What was that? Why! the school-room of the prodigies; what else? Was she not here to teach their minds to shoot, and was it not most important that the scene of the operation should be selected with consummate care?

There was no school-room--only a nursery! Then and there so crying a defect should be remedied. Madame would forgive her energy, recognizing the importance of the subject? Madame was so beautiful and indulgent to a poor stranger that there was no doubt of it. The darlings must have every advantage. Did not madame think so? Of course she did. Then off stumped Mademoiselle Brunelle, shaking the floor as though a colossal statue had been endowed with movement, and the big voice was heard in thunder presently, shouting out peremptory commands about curtains and chairs and tables.

Who was to resist this interloper? Gabrielle, though she felt nettled at being taken despotically in hand, and thrust aside, was not prepared to interfere, for manifestly the arrangements were for the good of the darlings. The new broom was sweeping so very clean, that compunction invaded the maternal bosom, in that she had been remiss in not sufficiently considering the extent of the cherubic wants.

Established in the best room on the ground floor to her satisfaction, surrounded with pictures and statuettes and ornamental nicknacks ravished from other chambers, Mademoiselle Brunelle let all and sundry know that here was her especial stronghold which none would invade with impunity.

Nevertheless, the Marquise de Gange, who did not understand that such an _ukase_ could possibly refer to her, prepared herself to a.s.sist at the lessons of the dear ones and to watch the process of shooting, and she was no little taken aback at the arbitrary proceedings of the governess. At first she took no notice of sour smiles and head-tossings, whereupon mademoiselle thought fit to dot her _i_'s, and bluntly inform madame with that queer mixture of respect and independence, in which the latter was beginning to preponderate, that it was a troublesome matter to instruct youth in complicated subjects in the presence of an ignorant mother.

"Do consider, madame," she observed, saucily, "how humiliating for you it will be, if they discover how little you know!"

Gabrielle bowed her head and blus.h.i.+ngly admitted her shortcomings. "I too can learn," she murmured with meekness, "and you will find me an anxious pupil;" but somehow whenever the rustle of her dress was heard in the corridor, the cherubs unaccountably began their music lesson; and when, remarking the fact, she requested that in future the sc.r.a.ping of Victor's violin might be exchanged for more delectable study, mademoiselle raised her mobile thatch of brow, and curtly declared that she took orders only from the marquis.

Gabrielle left the school-room humbled and bewildered, for a novel idea had been thrust on her which her loyal nature refused to entertain. Clovis could not have introduced this new factor into the household for the purpose of annoying his wife! Everyone admitted that he was a good man, if selfish and somewhat unpractical.

He did not wish this creature to stand betwixt a mother and her babes?

Surely not. The suspicion was unworthy of a true wife, and banished as soon as formed. There was a mistake somewhere. The woman meant well, but was officious. Clovis occupy himself about such domestic details!

Why, he rarely took notice of the children at all, unless worried into doing so. Why should he show interest now--since the arrival of this person? Pondering over this problem in confused pain between the alleys of the moated garden, the marquise endeavoured to rea.s.sure herself. Could she be so foolish as to be growing jealous of a stranger who, it could not be denied, was acting for the best? It was perfectly true that the marquise knew nothing of the subjects that were being taught by Aglae, and it was genuinely kind of her not to let the cherubs see that their erudition overtopped their mother's.

And yet--the hireling had been sadly rude to the mother in the presence of the darlings.

"You are agitated, sweet sister?" whispered the abbe, coming softly up behind across the gra.s.s--his soft hands in a dainty m.u.f.f, for it was chilly--and beaming down on her. "Do you know that I've been following these five minutes without obtaining a hearing?"

He looked so kind, had behaved with such discretion since his mistake, that her chilled heart warmed to him. Her lips trembled, and she burst into a flood of tears. His fingers clutched within the m.u.f.f (oh! how like the vulture's talons!) as though he would have clasped her to his breast and held her there; but with a supreme effort he restrained the impulse. "Not yet; not yet," he murmured to himself, as hearkening to her artless tale with anxious mien he gazed in silence across the swiftly-flowing Loire.

"I fear your suspicion is well founded, and that Clovis wishes it," he murmured shortly, when she had finished; then, taking her cold hand in his, he led her through the postern to a spot which overlooked the cherubic sanctuary.

Clovis sat by the spinet, beating time with a roll of music--the divine afflatus heavy on him--while the pair of angels played.

"She got rid of you on purpose; drove you out, to be untrammelled in her intercourse with him!" whispered the abbe with compa.s.sion.

"My children!" moaned the chatelaine, aghast. "Why can it be his wish that she should take them from me, their mother?"

CHAPTER IX.

THUNDER CLOUDS.

Gabrielle was stung to the quick. When _she_ taught the infants her husband could never be lured into the nursery, and now--in so brief a s.p.a.ce of time--a stranger had succeeded in rousing his dormant interest. In her jealousy she took to secretly watching the movements of the governess, and discovered, to her dismay, that the steps of Clovis were constantly wending towards the school-room. And this state of things had been brought about by the non-performance of duties. It was her own fault--of course it was her own fault for neglecting the abbe's warning. Had he not said that Clovis required leading; had he not even offered to a.s.sist her in leading him, and had she not replied by inference that so long as he was guided judiciously, it might be by another hand? But never, in wildest nightmare, had she conjured the possibility of that hand being another woman's! She was a bad wife, for she had neglected her duty, since, surely, it is a wife's first duty to make herself pleasant to her husband. Oh! woe on sins of omission! Instead of pampering her spouse's hobbies she had scoffed at them, and punishment had swooped swiftly down on her.

But it was not too late to set the matter right. He was not a bad man, though difficult to live with. A word of remonstrance at this juncture was worth a homily later, and he would hearken to her words of pleading, for since the arrival of the brothers at Lorge he had shown, in a glimmering glow-worm way, that he admired and liked his wife. She was satisfied that his sluggish nature was not capable of a warmer feeling, and had brought herself meekly to accept that microscopic meed of affection. She must take her courage in her hands, and open her heart to him; declare that his new arrangement, which at the start promised well enough, was making his wife wretched. When he came to understand that she was miserable, he would apologise at once and send the interloper packing.

Rising from the sofa on which she had fallen after pacing the room in a fever, she moved rapidly along the corridor which led to the marquis' study. Her fingers were on the door-k.n.o.b, and her head was whirling with persuasive arguments, when of a sudden her hand dropped powerless. There were low voices murmuring within. The parquet all around the closed door was strewn with straw and bottles, while on an open packing-case was scrawled in large letters the name of Aglae Brunelle. A cold s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sed over her frame. She was with him now, that woman. On familiar terms, indeed, since her boxes were unpacked by Clovis! They were never weary of communing together, with heads close and hair mingling, discussing subjects which absorbed them both, but in which she would never have a part! The pride of the young chatelaine rebelled. She could not complain before the domineering adventuress. Would it not be humiliating enough to confess to _him_ that his beautiful and high-born wife was jealous of a stranger, sprung from nowhere in particular, who was rather plain than otherwise?

Reluctantly returning to the boudoir, she took a pen and, after a pause of meditation, flung it down. Write to her fond father, begging him to intervene? No. He believed that she was happy, and should believe it to the end, however much she might be made to suffer. He should share her joys, but not her sorrows, the good father who adored her so. She must endeavour to remedy her own mistakes, fight this rival single-handed, win back the errant husband by the female arts which hitherto she had affected to despise, and understood so little.

Was she strong enough for the difficult task? Perchance the abbe would a.s.sist; but was it not another bitter thing to summon one to the rescue who, though repentant, had once so grievously forgotten himself?

Meanwhile, though he kept up a show of airy levity, the cunning Pharamond was, in a different way, almost as perturbed as she. The strides of the affinity were prodigious, whereas his own siege of Gabrielle made no advance at all. Unless he grappled with the situation without delay, he would a.s.suredly be worsted. But how to grapple with it, by cajolery or threats? Or would it be advisable to practise the arts of the bravo? Was the hand of cordial friends.h.i.+p to be extended to the interloper, or was she forthwith to be stabbed in the back? Pharamond considered himself a genius, and knew that one attribute of genius is to know when to seize an opportunity. Consider the knotty problem as he would, he could not come to a decision.

Perhaps, for the present, a waiting game would be the best to play.

The hand of friends.h.i.+p first, as an experiment; a stab with the poignard by and by.

The abbe in his uncertainty took to dividing his valuable society between the ladies. While the marquis and his affinity were fidgeting over experiments, he read impa.s.sioned strophes to the marquise. When the party went forth for a walk or drive he attached himself to the skirt of Aglae. Her behaviour was irreproachable. She laughed slily at his delicate hints, and seemed mightily amused by his compliments.

Once, when he thought he was really making progress in this direction, she placed her two large hands upon her haunches, and wagging her head, remarked, "Does monsieur think me blind?"

"Certainly not," replied the gallant abbe. "Those sparkling orbs s.h.i.+ne like fireflies."

"Then why arrange a trap--and such a clumsy one--for my poor big simple feet to fall into?"

It is disconcerting to the astute to be twitted with lack of skill. The tactics that served for Gabrielle would not do with this shrewder lady. Since she guessed his hand, why not show the cards?

Dangerous--but a hazardous game not unfrequently coerces Fortune.

"Why can't you trust me, mademoiselle," he murmured. "Cannot one so sharp perceive that I'm her friend?"